#because the garcia thing is making my blood boil | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssahotchhner · 4 years ago

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don’t trust cops

Hi, I didn’t really proofread this so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes! This is a oneshot, there won’t be any follow up. Basic synopsis is that Hotch suspects that the reader is in an abusive relationship.

pairing: hotch x reader

words: 5.2k

warnings: guns, intimate partner violence, verbal abuse, cursing

questions, comments, concerns

At first, there were little signs. Things Aaron brushed off as him always looking for the bad guy. You would show up to work with bruises on your arms or legs and claim you got them in the field. When you were watching an interrogation, if someone raised their voice you almost always flinched. The bags under your eyes had gotten darker, as if you weren’t sleeping. You were more attached to your phone than anyone could remember and refused all invites to come out after work.

“You asked for me?” You say one day in Hotch’s office.

He nods, “Sit, please.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ask as you sit.

He quickly shakes his head, “Not at all, your work is more than satisfactory.”

“Okay,” You say slowly, “So… What can I do for you?”

“I’m worried about you, I just wanted to check in. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

You frown, “I’m… sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He gestures to your collarbone where your shirt has slipped to reveal a fresh purple bruise, “You come in here everyday with new bruises. You check your phone consistently every thirty minutes and get hostile if anyone points it out to you. You flinch at loud noises, should I go on?”

While he was talking you had lowered your head to watch your hands, your thumbs fiddled with each other in your lap, “While I appreciate your concern, Hotch, I believe that my personal life is not your concern as long as it doesn’t affect my work.”

“Y/N, I just want to help, I can intervene if you are in danger--”

“If that’s all, sir, I’d like to get back to my desk, I have a lot of reports to finish.”

He stares at you for a moment more before sighing, “Of course.” He watches you leave his office, feeling useless. There wasn’t much he could do if you refused to be helped.

Soon after he called Morgan into his office, “What’s up, Hotch?”

“Morgan, I need you to keep an eye on Y/N.”

He frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. I… have suspicions that there’s domestic abuse going on at home, but she won’t let me help.”

Morgan immediately goes into protective mode, “Hotch, if there’s someone hurting her you can’t expect me not to show up at her door and beat his ass.”

“Believe me Morgan, I’d let you, but you could endanger her if she’s not ready to leave him. You know that.”

Morgan looks like he wants to slam his fist into something, “I knew something was off with her.”

“I think we all do…” Hotch trails off as his gaze is distracted by the bullpen, “What is that?”

“Looks like… a flower delivery.” Morgan says and sure enough, the delivery man places the humongous arrangement on Y/N’s desk. She smiles and the girls flock around her as she plucks the card from the middle of the bouquet.

“An apology,” Hotch says, his blood boiling, but his voice is neutral, “For the bruises he gave her last night.”

“And so the cycle shall continue,” Morgan scoffs.

“Morgan, do not bring it up to her. She will ice you out as I’m sure she plans on doing to me and we need to be able to keep a close eye on her, understood?”

Morgan bangs his fists on top of each other, but he nods, “Understood.”

Hotch watches him leave his office, his eyes glued to you, but you don’t notice. You’re smiling a bit, for now. Happy until he hurts you again.

Aaron does his best to stay focused on his work and not to think about you or monitor your every move, but it proves significantly difficult and so a few days after he talked to Morgan, he calls Garcia into his office.

“Do you need something, sir?”

“Close the door, please, Penelope.”

“Is something wrong?” Penelope frowns as she closes the door.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Hotch is more stressed than he’s been in a while, knowing you’re in danger and not being able to do anything about it has taken a significant toll on him.

“Sir?” Penelope asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“What I’m about to ask you to do stays between us, Morgan is the only other person who knows, understood?”

“Yes, of course. Hotch, you’re starting to scare me.”

He sighs, “I need you to dig into Y/N’s personal life and find whatever you can on a significant other.”

As expected, Garcia looks horrified, “Hotch, I can’t-- I can’t do that to a member of the team.”

“I understand what I’m asking of you, Garcia, but I promise it’s for her safety. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Garcia frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I think she could be in danger, but she won’t let me help officially which is why I don’t want you telling anyone. If she finds out about this she’ll isolate herself further.”

“Okay,” Garcia’s nodding, “For her safety.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

“Sir, what exactly am I looking for?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t know. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Garcia gets up and nods to herself, “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

“Me too.” Hotch says to himself as she leaves.

***

It was three weeks later and Garcia hadn’t found anything. She had found the boyfriend, but there was no history of previous arrests or anything that would tip them off that he could become violent.

“This is good news right, sir? Maybe you were wrong?” But Aaron is frowning at the file, “Sir?”

He shrugs, “All this means is that he hasn’t been caught which is exceptionally common with abusers. He’s also law enforcement and… Well, I’m sure you know the correlation between law enforcement and domestic abuse.” Garcia was looking at Aaron like she was about to have a panic attack, “But, you’re right. It could be nothing. Thank you.”

Garcia looks like she’s going to leave, but then she turns back, “Sir, if… If you’re not wrong…”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, Garcia. I promise.”

Penelope seems reassured by that and leaves his office. Soon after, JJ comes in to let Hotch know there’s a case.

“Is everyone here?” Hotch asks.

“Everyone but Y/N. I’ve texted and called her, but no answer.”

Hotch nods, “Thanks, JJ.” He tries calling you himself, just in case, but you don’t pick up. He ignores the tick of frustration he feels. Why don’t you trust him? You had worked together for years, he could help you. He had treated you like the rest of the team, like family. If anything, he had maybe grown a bit fonder of you than anyone else on the team.

“Where’s Y/N?” Morgan demands when Hotch walks into the conference room.

“She’s not answering her phone, we can start without her.” He nods to JJ, ignoring Derek’s pointed look.

“Hotch, it’s time to tell the team, I’m not leaving DC without her.”

Prentiss frowns, “What’s going on?”

Hotch meets Morgan’s eyes, “She could just be away from her phone.”

“You know as well as I do she doesn’t miss work calls.”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” JJ asks.

Aaron sighs, “I have suspicions that Y/N is in a domestic abuse situation.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Reid asks.

“Because I was worried if she found out that everyone was watching her she would mention it to him and isolate her from us further. I told Morgan to keep an eye on her and I had Garcia look into her boyfriend.”

“Garcia, did you find anything?” Prentiss asks.

She shakes her head, “Nothing.”

Prentiss looks back at Hotch, “And you’re sure about this?”

He shrugs, “All of her behaviors point to it.”

“Then someone should at least go check on her.” JJ says.

They all stare at Hotch, expectant, and finally he sighs, “Fine. Prentiss and Morgan, you go check on her and meet us in Baltimore.” When Prentiss and Morgan head out, Hotch turns back to the rest of the team, “JJ, continue.”

***

The text from JJ about a new case woke you in the morning along with the knocking at your door. Stretching, you rolled out of bed, “Coming!” You called to the door.

When you opened it, your boyfriend stood at the door looking stressed and angry. The usual feelings of anxiety and fear immediately flooded you, “Andrew, what is it?”

“You can’t go to work today.”

You frown, “What?”

“Your FBI buddies, they’ve been looking into me, did you tell them about me?”

Suddenly he’s on you, backed against the wall and you feel like you’re choking, “No, no, I swear, they-- They saw the flowers you sent,” You swallow, “But that’s all I swear.”

He’s so close now you can feel his breath on you, “I don’t believe you.”

You immediately start crying, “Andrew, please, I swear--”

“Liar!” He backhands you and you taste blood. “What did I tell you about lying to me?”

“Baby, I promise,” You beg, “I promise I haven’t said anything. They’re expecting me, if I don’t show up they’ll--”

“They’ll what, huh? Call the cops? Is that a threat?”

“No.” You take a breath, trying to calm yourself down, “I just want you to know what’ll happen if you--”

“Well you should’ve thought of that before you told them shit about me!” He yells and you flinch. Immediately he goes for the vase of flowers he gave you a few days ago, swiping them off the table causing the glass to shatter near your feet, cutting into your ankles. You close your eyes and try not to react, thinking maybe that’ll calm him down.

“Andrew, I promise you I have not told them anything. They have no reason to look into you.” You say calmly, “And even if they did look into you they wouldn’t find anything, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Before you can even react, he’s punched you in the stomach, “Don’t talk to me like one of your unsubs, you stupid bitch,” He punches you again and you think you feel a rib crack, “You’ve always thought you’re better than me because you’re a fuckin’ fed.”

You can’t even respond because he’s knocked the wind out of you, your palms cut on the broken glass as you fall forward on the floor. “Can’t go to work like this now, can you?” Without waiting for a response, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Almost immediately you collapse into sobs, hyperventilating as you try to pull the glass out of your hands and feet. You’re in the bathroom trying to clean yourself up and see how much damage has been done to the rest of your body when you think you hear Derek’s voice calling your name. “Fuck.” If you don’t open that door you know Morgan will just kick it down. You hadn’t cleaned up the glass yet and you had to walk tentatively to avoid the pain in your rib.

Derek calls your name again. “I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t kick down the door.” You shout as you slowly make your way over.

When you open the door Emily is also there and you don’t even try to put on a show. There’s no point. You watch as they take in the broken glass and flowers lying on the floor, the blood on your mouth and the way you’re holding yourself to avoid pain in your ribs. “Did Hotch send you?”

“You didn’t answer anyone’s calls.” You can hear the shock in Emily’s voice.

You nod, “So being late results in uninvited visits with your guns out now? Must’ve missed that bit in the employee handbook.”

“He’s worried about you, we all are, and apparently with good reason.”

“I’m fine.” You say, and as if to demonstrate, grab a broom and start sweeping up the glass, “Brief me on the new case.”

Derek scoffs, “You’re crazy if you think you’re working on this case, you’re going to the hospital.”

“You can’t make me go to the hospital.”

“No, we can’t,” Emily says, “But you won’t be allowed in the field until you’re medically cleared--”

“My injuries are minor and weren’t obtained in the field. I’m allowed to work.”

“Hotch will bench you if you show up like this.”

“Then let him tell me that himself. Are you two just gonna stand there or are you going to help me clean up?”

Derek shares a look with Prentiss who shrugs and helps you clean up. For the most part they don’t say anything, but you can tell Derek is quietly stewing in his anger.

“If you want to say something to me then say it.” You’re in the bathroom now and he’s trying to help you pull all the glass out of your skin.

“I’m just trying to understand why an FBI profiler would put up with this kind of treatment.”

“It’s not always like this.”

“His violence is escalating, it was only bruises before this,” He gently touches your rib to confirm it’s broken, “It’s only a matter of time before he kills you.”

You look away from him, “Hotch asked Garcia to look into him, didn’t he?”

Morgan sighs, “She didn’t find anything.”

“Well whatever she did must’ve notified his precinct that the FBI was looking into him because that’s why he came here this morning.”

Emily frowns, “Garcia’s more careful than that, she would know that that would put you in danger.”

You shrug, “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, he knew somehow that you guys were looking into him.”

Morgan is staring at nothing, his head lowered, “Derek, what is it?” Emily asks. You think you already know before he says anything.

“I… may have been following him on my free time. Sometimes I park outside of here and watch your window just to make sure you’re still alive when he leaves.”

You push past Morgan, too furious with him to even feel the pain in your ribs, “You had no right, none of you had any right.”

“This team is a family, we look out for each other.”

You’re pulling on a blazer and a pair of black boots, “If you two don’t take me to the crime scene right now, so help me God.”

They both look at you hopelessly, “Fine,” Emily says, “Let Hotch deal with you.”

***

The cuts in your feet along with your most likely broken rib make you a sorry sight as you have to limp into the Baltimore police station. The look on Hotch’s face when he sees you almost falters your rage, just for a moment.

“You made them look into Andrew after I told you I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” He looks to Morgan and Prentiss, “Why isn’t she at a hospital?”

“She insisted on coming here and working on this case.”

“You’re not working this case until you get checked out by a doctor.”

You lower your voice, “If I go to a doctor and get these injuries documented, you know what they’ll ask me.”

“Yes, I do. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve gotten medical attention.”

“You’ll be protected.”

“What if I don’t want to be protected? I love him.”

He watches you for a few more moments, “Prentiss, take her to the hospital.”

Prentiss lightly touches your shoulder and guides you out of the precinct and you glare Hotch down the entire way out. “She won’t forgive you for this.” Derek says, now at Hotch’s side.

“Maybe not, but at least she’ll be alive.” Hotch turns his full attention back to Morgan as Prentiss drives you away, “What did he do to her?”

Morgan sighs, “Looked like he hit her in the face, she was bleeding from her mouth. She had glass all in her hands and feet from a shattered vase and I think he may have broken her rib.”

“So he’s escalated.”

“Yeah, because he figured out I was tailing her.”

“Morgan, this is not your fault, I asked you to keep an eye on her. And besides, he would’ve just found another excuse.”

“So what do we do? DC police isn’t about to let us arrest him.”

“We hope that she lets us protect her and that he’ll come to us.”

Derek stares at Hotch for a second before it clicks, “You want him to come get her at our headquarters.”

“At a minimum he’ll be arrested for threatening a federal officer while she’s on duty. It’s the only way we’ll get him.”

“You’re comfortable using her as bait like that?”

“Derek, the alternative is him finding a way into her apartment and killing her before we get there, do you think that’s a better idea?”

Morgan sighs and simply walks away.

***

“I know what you guys think of me.” You say to Emily as she had been carefully avoiding meeting your eyes. You were in an emergency room, waiting to be called, “That I’m stupid for staying.”

Emily’s shaking her head, “No one thinks that. We’re just trying to understand why someone as smart as you, who has all the resources to get out as a federal agent, wouldn’t get out.”

“Come on, Emily, I’m a profiler too, all you guys had to do was check into my past to see why that is. Don’t tell me no one’s done that yet.”

“No one has done that because you’re not an unsub, you’re our family. Why else do you think I’m here with you right now and not working a case?”

You sniff and rub at your nose, “He’s not a bad person, he’s trying.” Emily won’t meet your eyes again. “He promised me he’d go to anger management.”

“How long ago was that?” Emily asks with a knowing look.

You take a shaky breath, “I won’t let you guys arrest him.”

“If he comes near you again we won’t need your permission.”

***

After your visit to the hospital, Hotch ordered at least two FBI agents to stake out your apartment every single day, 24 hours a day. You talked to Andrew on the phone, but you were firm that it was over this time, if only to save your career and your reputation.

He was angry, more angry than you think he’d ever been. He threatened you, threatened your team, accused you of cheating until you were forced to block his number. You didn’t tell the team about this. Didn’t tell them about the threatening gifts he left for you at work. Maybe if you had, things wouldn’t have been so terrible when Andrew showed up.

You didn’t know he was in the elevator with you until the doors had already closed and his arm easily wraps around your neck, his other hand pushing the barrel of his gun into your head.

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” You don’t react.

“You’re about to walk into a bullpen with at least twenty armed federal agents, you won’t leave here alive.”

“I don’t intend to leave alive, I want them to watch me kill you. Sucks I have to do it with a gun, I would’ve liked to see the light drain slowly from your eyes.”

The elevator lights are ticking closer and closer to the floor your unit is on. “Andrew, I don’t want you to die. Don’t you love me?”

“You know I do!” His emotion finally shows, “You left me!”

“I know baby, and I’m sorry.” The elevator doors are opening, “Just put down the gun and we can talk about it, otherwise I can’t promise you’ll ever see me again.” Tears were threatening to spill over as you knew you were about to watch the man you loved get murdered by your friends.

“If I can’t have you,” He says shakily, marching you out of the elevator. Nobody’s noticed yet, “Nobody can.”

When he walks into the bullpen with you, at first your friends don’t notice, laughing about something circled around Reid’s desk. Penelope is the first to notice and her face drops, “Oh God.”

Then Morgan looks up. “Hotch!” He yells and then suddenly there’s about fifteen guns trained on Andrew.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You say shakily.

“Yeah, where is Agent Hotchner, huh? I’d like to talk to him about my girlfriend.”

You think maybe you can calm him down, “Andrew--”

“Shut up!” He screams at you, pushing the gun harder into your temple.

Aaron takes his time coming out of his office, no gun as he comes down the steps and enters the bullpen, “Why are you asking for me, Andrew, aren’t you going to kill her?”

“I wanted you to see.” Andrew says through his teeth.

“Why me?” He looks around him, “You have quite an audience already.”

Andrew starts laughing, “Why don’t you tell him, baby? Tell him why I want him to see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar!” He screams, “Why are you always lying to me? You think I don’t know what happened between you two? All those late weekends babysitting for Agent Hotchner.”

“It’s true sometimes Y/N comes to play with Jack if I have a lot of paperwork to do on the weekends, but only because Jack really likes her. But you put a stop to that, didn’t you? She hasn’t seen Jack in months.”

Andrew starts maniacally laughing, “You must all think I’m stupid. You’ve been fucking my girlfriend Agent Hotchner!” He finally removes the gun from your head and points it at Aaron, “Maybe I’ll kill you instead.”

“Andrew, don’t.” You hear the sound of safeties releasing.

“Okay Andrew, you win, I’ll tell you the truth.” You still in Andrew’s hold at Hotch’s words, “Y/N and I have been having an affair for months now.”

“Hotch.” You warn, but he goes on.

“She’s beautiful, young, intelligent,” He looks at you pointedly, “Incredible at her job. What’s not to love?”

You know what he’s doing, but you don’t want to do it. You shake your head, crying in earnest now, “Hotch, please.”

“I knew it! You son of a bitch!”

“Andrew, you have no one to blame but yourself. A low ranking DC cop, barely competent, you failed out of college.”

“Shut up!” Andrew says. You’re trying to steady your breathing as Hotch speaks.

“Meanwhile, your girlfriend graduated top of her class with an accelerated masters in criminal psychology, was recruited straight out of the FBI academy to join the BAU, the bureau’s most elite unit. Why would she want you? Especially when she could have me.”

“You better shut your mouth, man.”

“I have dozens of years of experience on you. I have a law degree. I hold several accolades from being in the BAU for so long, and of course, I’m the unit chief. But, hold on, I almost forgot. A real man knows how to satisfy a woman in bed, Andrew, but you’ve never been able to get your own girlfriend to orgasm, isn’t that right?”

Andrew is shaking his head ferociously and you know Hotch is about to deliver the final blow. Your signal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Except I do know, Andrew. And I can’t count the number of times I’ve made your girlfriend orgasm in my bed, all while moaning my name.”

“You stupid motherfucker!” Andrew yells and you spin in his arms. You move to grab the gun, your hand on it, but you’re not able to disarm him before the gun fires. At the very least, you’ve fucked up his aim and now you have his gun pointed at him, tears dried to your cheeks. Hotch knew Andrew’s fatal error had always been underestimating you. All the things Hotch had said were true. You outranked him, you were smarter than him, and you had more training than him. He was just as much talking to you just then as he was talking to Andrew, reminding you of your worth. Hotch knew that you would be able to disarm him easily if he was riled and distracted enough, but Andrew had never seen you as the threat you were until now as you have his gun pointed at his chest.

As soon as someone had cuffed Andrew, you dropped the gun, hands shaking and spun to see Hotch on the ground, blood on the floor, “Oh God.”

“I’m fine,” He winces, “It just clipped my shoulder. I knew you’d be able to get the gun away from him.”

You collapse on the floor next to him, “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see Jack in a while,” You say, tears falling down your cheeks again, “I really miss him.”

“Out of everything I just lied about in front of this entire bureau, that’s what you’re upset about?”

You nod, “I know he asks for me, it broke my heart when you stopped texting me the videos.”

Hotch nearly laughs, “I’ll send you some more as soon as I can.”

“How did you know?” You lower your voice, “About our sex life?”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs, “It was a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“You want to do this now?” Medics had arrived now and were looking at Hotch’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

He sighs, “All of his insecurities were focused on me from the second he walked in here. He couldn’t stand that he was subservient to you which would make trying to pleasure you in bed even harder for him. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that not only were you not equals, you were superior to him. I, on the other hand, outrank you. His biggest fear was that the only man who would ever be able to satisfy you was someone more dominant than you. I just played on that fear.”

You nod slowly, the medics are telling you they need to bring him to the hospital, “Thanks for making sure no one died in here.” You say finally and start backing away from him.

“You asked us not to hurt him.”

You sigh, “I know, but, still. Thank you.”

He offers you a small smile before the paramedics take him away, Penelope immediately rushing over to crush you into a hug, the rest of your team joining in. You had taken them for granted, punished them for caring about you. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

***

“Man, Jack, you beat me again!” You laugh and set down the Wii remote, the sounds of Mario Kart filling the room.

“Only because you let me.” He says with a grin.

“No, I would never do that!”

“I’ve watched you play with Daddy, I know you’re better than me.”

You giggle and ruffle his hair, “Or Daddy is a lot worse than you think he is.”

There’s a knock at Jack’s bedroom door and Aaron walks in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, an outfit you rarely saw him in, “Dinner’s ready, go wash your hands, bud.” He announces and Jack immediately runs past.

“I should be going then, it was nice hanging out with him again.”

Aaron frowns, “Nonsense, stay for dinner.”

“Hotch, I couldn’t--”

“Please, stay. I made more than enough and there’s a bottle of wine I’ll need help finishing.”

You smile, “Okay.”

The dinner was full of laughs and Jack recounting all of his epic wins on Mario Kart before he finally started yawning. There was still a half a bottle of wine left when Hotch finished tucking in Jack.

“Thanks for dinner, Hotch, I really appreciate it.” You stand to put on your coat.

“I thought I asked you to help me finish this bottle.”

You laugh, “You really want me to stay?”

“I thought you would’ve figured out by now that Jack is just a ruse to get you to hang out with me.” He smirks and you roll your eyes and sit down again. “How are you doing?” He asks while he refills your wine glass.

You shrug and avoid meeting his eyes, “Fine.” You look up to see him staring at you, a knowing look on his face, “I’m serious, I’m fine. I actually think I owe you an apology.”

He frowns, “For what?”

“For shutting you out when you were just trying to help me.”

He shakes his head, “You were in love, I can’t blame you for that.”

You swallow, and maybe it’s the wine that makes you brave, but you finally ask the question you’d been thinking about since the day Hotch had gotten shot, “When you were talking to Andrew, lying about us having an affair… Did you profile me for any of that?”

He pauses, “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking.”

You sigh, “You said that someone like me would want a dominant man, someone who outranked me. Was that a lie or part of a profile?”

He watches you carefully, “You know as well as I do that all aspects of a profile won’t be correct, it’s just a guide.”

“But that’s what you think I would want from what you’ve observed.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

You gaze at him, mouth slightly parted, “You really don’t know?” He’s still staring at you so finally you sigh, turning your attention to the wine that you swirl around in its glass, “When I first started at the BAU I had a ginormous crush on you.”

He chuckles, “Really?”

You nod, allowing him a small smile, “Yep. It was very embarrassing.” You shake your head, “And then I met Andrew and…” You shrug, “Well, you know the rest.”

“And what about now?”

You look up at him and he’s looking at you so intently, concern written all over his face. And maybe a little bit of something else, too. “I’m not sure it ever fully went away.” You say softly.

He leans forward in his seat and gently picks up one of your hands, holding it in both of his, “I would be so incredibly lucky to love someone like you. I meant everything I said about you in the bullpen.”

You’re not sure you’re breathing, “You mean that?”

He searches your face, “Let me show you.” He says softly and then tips his face into yours. His lips brush yours tentatively, gauging your reaction. He’s nervous, you realize, which feels absolutely absurd to you. You carefully bring a hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb along his skin before deepening the kiss.

You feel his sigh of relief when you kiss him back. The kiss lasts for a few seconds before Aaron pulls away just an inch, “Would you like to stay the night?”

His voice is husky and deep and the beat of your heart quickens. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You say breathlessly.

And he smiles that rare smile and guides you up the stairs.

#mine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #hotch angst #hotch smut

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

“Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

805 notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

taunted

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ hours after his release from prison, spencer’s girlfriend is kidnapped. can he pull it together long enough to save her?

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ swearing, reference to sexual assault, blood, kidnapping

word count ↠ 5.7k

“People go, but how they left always stays.” — Rupi Kaur

Spencer felt overwhelmed to say the least.

In the last 24 hours, he’d undergone more stress than any human should ever have to endure. Between his release from prison and racing against the clock to save his mother, he was grateful to finally able to take a moment to stop and breathe.

In between the chaos, he hadn’t been able to see one of the people he’d missed the most during his imprisonment; his beloved fiancee, Y/N.

He knew that the team had contacted her to inform her of his release, but there’d been no time for heartfelt reunions when he was released, the safety of his mother being the only thing on his mind. As much as he’d missed his girl, it would have to wait.

As he stood walked through the lobby of his apartment complex, he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips at the anticipation of seeing her. She’d been to visit frequently while he was incarcerated, giving him just that little push to fight, to fight like hell, to come home to her. And now he was there.

As he walked up the flights of stairs, he remembered all the times he’d wished he could reach out to grab her hand when she was sat across from him, with the glass separating them and preventing him from touching her. He remembered the sleepless nights in his cell, on a bed that was cold and hard with a single uncomfortable pillow. He recalled how badly he yearned for her on those nights, craved the warmth of her arms, their bed. He was so eager to finally hold her in his arms, remind her how much he loved her, thank her for sticking with him, for being his lifeline during the hardest months of his life.

Any excitement that he held was diminished as soon as he climbed the final few steps to their floor, his eyes landing on their apartment door.

Their open apartment door.

Spencer’s eyes blew wide, part of him trying to calm himself down, she just forgot to close it behind her, and the other part knowing Y/N was too cautious to make such a silly mistake.

He wasn’t armed, after all he wasn’t planning on having to deal with shit like this for at least a few weeks following his release.

He cautiously made his way into the apartment and was immediately greeted with the obvious signs of a struggle in his living room. The coffee table’s contents had been scattered across the floor, the little table they normally placed cups of tea or snacks on had toppled over. The pretty white vase that Y/N’s mother had bought the couple a few years back was shattered on the floor, the yellow daffodils that had been inside the vase laying there limply. By the fireplace was a small pool of blood, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who it belonged to.

Seeing the blood sent Spencer into a panic, his breathing increasing as he anxiously called out for her, opening up the doors to their bedroom and the bathroom, finding all the rooms empty.

He ran a hand through his hair and down his face as he tried to steady his breathing, so that he could think.

“She’s not here, She’s not here, She’s not-” Three whispered words were all that left his lips, a broken mantra filled with worry and despair.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning, how did the unsub even gain entry to the apartment?” Rossi asked, grimacing at the state of the room around them.

After coming to the realisation that his fiancee was missing and had indeed been taken, Spencer had called Emily, who’d assembled the team together to help the distraught genius. Emily sent Garcia, Luke and Matt to the BAU headquarters to work from there, while the rest of the team met up with Spencer at his apartment.

Once they’d arrived, they found Spencer outside, anxiously pacing the hallway outside the door as he mumbled to himself, desperately trying to fight off the raging headache he had. JJ was quick to attempt to console him, but to no avail. His brain was essentially mush. As if the stress of everything he’d been through wasn’t enough- the love of his life was missing, potentially dead, and he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. How was he supposed to help?

Emily had nodded to the rest of the team, silently telling them to head inside the apartment to check things out while she came to stand in front of Spencer.

“Reid? Reid. I know this is a lot but I need you to listen to me. You can’t be here. You’re not in the right headspace for this. You’re better off back at the BAU with Garcia, Luke and Matt.” Emily tried. She didn’t want to upset him further but it was the best thing for him. There was no chance of him thinking clearly at the scene, so sending him back to HQ was the best option.

Spencer knew that. However it didn’t stop him from looking at Emily with anger flaring in his eyes. “You’re not seriously kicking me off the case? My fiancee is missing-” His voice raised but Emily cut him off.

“I’m not kicking you off the case. Y/N is a part of this family and we won’t rest until she’s home, but you’re not gonna be able to think here, Spencer. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.” She promised and he nodded, forcing him self not to grunt in pain as his splitting headache worsened.

As he stepped off of the elevator, his legs carried him quickly through the glass doors into the bullpen. He b-lined for the conference room, where Garcia, Luke Matt were sat at the roundtable. Garcia was typing away furiously at her laptop, Matt looking over her shoulder whilst Luke reviewed pictures from the crime scene. When Spencer entered the room Garcia looked up, her fingers faltering.

“Reid..” Garcia started, but quickly realised she didn’t know what to say.

Spencer said nothing, stalking toward her and leaning his hands on the table. “Emily told me you’re looking at security footage from outside our apartment complex? Did you see anything?”

Garcia exchanged a look of sadness with Matt before clearing her throat. “Uh, the cameras outside the lobby caught the kidnappers vehicle as it left, a blue Sedan, but it’s too dark for us to make out the plates.”

“Did the camera’s catch her being taken?” His voice was quiet but sturdy. The coldness of his tone almost made Garcia shiver.

“Yes.” She squeaked out.

“Show me.” He demanded, walking to her other side so he could lean over her shoulder to watch.

Matt shifted, standing up straight. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Reid.”

“Did I ask?” He spat, not bothering to spare Matt a glance as he looked at Garcia’s laptop screen. “ I said show me.”

“O-Okay.” She murmured, clicking a few buttons before the video started up.

The four of them watched intently as a man in a dark hoodie carried an unconscious Y/N out the front doors of the complex. Spencer noted the splotch of red on her forehead, likely from where the bastard had hit her to knock her out. The man forcefully shoved her in the back of the car that waited by the front of the building, before moving to get into the drivers seat and taking off.

Spencer was gripping the edge of the roundtable with such force that his knuckles were white, and it seemed a miracle that the wood hadn’t splintered under his force.

Luke spoke first. “Did we get a good enough look at his face?”

Garcia shook her head. “Not really. His back was to the camera’s a lot.”

Matt sighed. “It means he knew where they were, and how to avoid them. This kidnapping was planned, likely weeks in advance.”

Spencer slammed his hands down on the table, and Garcia let out a yelp at the sudden movement. “So we have nothing then?” He yelled, starting to pace the end of the conference room, his hands gripping handful’s of his hair.

“I’ll call Emily and see if they found anything at the scene.” Matt mumbled, quickly leaving the room.

Spencer rubbed as his eyes frustratedly, before turning toward Luke and Garcia. “You guys need to get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, you need to get out. I’m sorry but I need to think, I need to focus and I can’t do that with you here.” He ushered the two out of the conference room, slamming the door shut behind them as he looked around frantically. He grabbed the photos that were on the table that Luke was previously looking at. He stared at them, willing his brain to work, hoping he’d figure out what he was missing. He quickly grew frustrated with his lack of progress, picking up one of the books from the table and throwing it at the wall in his angry haste.

Garcia gasped, a loud bang sounding from the conference room where Reid was working tirelessly to find Y/N. She shared a look with Luke, who shrugged. The pair quickly moved toward the room, gently opening the door, to find Spencer pacing the room anxiously, running his hands through his hair as he tried to control his breathing.

Spencer didn’t know what to do. He’d exhausted the few leads they had, he was mentally and physically exhausted and he wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was. All he knew, all he could think about, was that his girl was out there somewhere, waiting for him to save her. And he wasn’t even close to finding her.

“Reid, I know a lot is going on but you’ve got to try and clear your head-“ Luke started but Spencer interrupted him, his tone cold and unforgiving.

“My fiancée is missing, and I can’t get it together long enough to figure out where she is!” He yelled, and Garcia flinched at his words. He saw the looks on their faces and frowned. “What?”

“You threw a book at the wall..” Garcia mumbled, still cautious of her words.

“If Y/N dies because I was too slow I’ll be throwing a lot more than books.” He seethed, before brushing past the stunned pair.

The cold water felt refreshing on his boiling skin as he splashed it against his face in an attempt to calm himself down a little. He gripped the sink tightly in his hands and forced himself to look in the mirror. He wasn’t shocked by what he saw staring back at him. A shell of the man he was before prison. Cold and harsh and unkind, a man who would kill another and still sleep easy. His breaths were heavy and he felt the familiar feeling crawling up his throat, the feeling that he wanted to cry, to sob and plead for everything to just end. Hadn’t he been through enough?

He choked the feeling down. Crying and pleading weren’t going to bring Y/N back home to him.

He could feel the panic bubbling within him, and so he forced himself to think of happier times, times where the weight of the world wasn’t on his aching shoulders. He screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to go somewhere better, somewhere happier, even if just for a minute.

“Spence?”

It was her voice. Oh thank god.

He blinked his eyes open, his gaze landing on her sat next to him. He immediately knew which memory he was recalling. It was one of the happiest days of his life.

He’d taken her out that night for dinner and then up a mountain of sorts so they could get to a high enough point where they’d have a perfect view of the stars. He’d explained the constellations to her as she sat next to him, cross-legged with her head resting on his shoulder and his arms around her.

He looked at her as she stared up at the night sky in awe. He took in every detail of her face, letting it really sink in that she was his, a woman so kind and compassionate and beautiful was all his. She raised her hand to point up toward the sky, an amused smile on her lips.

“What about that one, what’s it called?”

He was more than happy to tell her.

As they sat in a blissful silence, Spencer noted how this was the happiest he’d felt in a long time. With her, he was sure there could never be a bad day again.

He broke the silence by clearing his throat, unwrapping his arm from her as she turned to face him, her brow furrowed.

“Spence? You okay?”

“Yeah- I- Um, I didn’t just bring you out here to watch the stars.” He started, his palms quickly becoming sweaty and his voice dying in his rapidly drying throat. He kept trying to speak, to say the words he’d practiced a thousand times over in his head, but he simply couldn’t form the words.

She reached out to grab his hand, taking in gently in hers as an act of reassurance. “It’s okay, It’s only me. Take your time.”

He squeezed her hand in thanks before taking a deep breath and moving up from his seated position, manoeuvering so he was now down on one knee in front of her. He kept the grip on her hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket for the small red box that he’d carried with him for months prior to this moment.

Y/N gasped when he opened up the box, showcasing the beautiful silver ring sat inside. Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears.

“Y/N.” He started. “Over the two years, two-hundred-and-seventeen days, six hours and fifteen minutes we’ve been together, there’s not been one moment where I’ve not loved you. Even through petty arguments and silly fights, I have never and will never stop loving you. I don’t think I could if I tried. You’re always there for me when I need you. When a case has been rough, you’re at home waiting to hold me and make everything better. You’ve never failed me, and if you accept this ring, I promise I’ll never fail you. You’re my whole life, Y/N. There is nothing I wouldn’t do if it ensured your safety, if it meant coming home to you. You’re everything I’m ever going to want, you’re everything I need. So Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the extraordinary honour of marrying me?”

Words failed her in that moment so all she could do was nod her head as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around him as she cried happily into his neck, and he chuckled to himself, arms wrapping around her securely.

She pulled back a moment later, swiping her fingers under her eyes to wipe her tears away as she flashed him a breath-taking smile. “Yes.” She answered quietly, watching as he carefully slipped the ring on her finger. she gazed down at it in awe. “It’s beautiful, Spence.” She grinned back up at him, her hands coming to cup his cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, before moving forward to connect his lips to hers.

He wished he could cling onto the warmth that bubbled in his chest forever.

A voice came from behind him, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked behind him, to where Luke stood by the door.

“Reid, You gotta come. Garcia found something.”

“What have you got Garcia?” Luke called as soon as he entered the conference room, Reid rushing in behind him.

“I managed to get the footage from the cameras that are outside the shop opposite the apartment complex.” She started, and Reid came to stand next to her, watching the footage play on her laptop. “If I zoom in close enough I should be able to get an ID on our unsub. We can see his face, but it’s still a tad blurry. Not to worry, I’ll work some magic and get it as clear as I can. Hopefully then we can run it through facial recognition and pray it turns up something.” She sounded hopeful, and Reid was grateful for her optimism.

It wasn’t much, but it was a lead. And honestly that was all he could ask for at that moment.

Garcia skilfully managed to unblur the video they had of the unsub, but facial recognition didn’t turn up any matches or any new leads. The team were at a loss. It had been seventy-two hours since Y/N went missing, and with every hour, the possibility of her coming home alive decreased. Spencer knew the statistics, he knew the chances. it was the curse of an eidetic memory, he supposed.

With every hour, Reid lost more and more of himself, any hope he had being chipped away with the annoying tick of the clock as seconds passed by. He had barely slept, even when being ‘ordered’ to by Emily. The only time he’d slept was when he got so drained and exhausted that he actually passed out for a few hours. He refused to eat, drinking as much caffeine as he could in order to force himself to stay awake. How could he sleep at a time like this? Whenever someone on the team tried to encourage him to eat, if only a few bites of a cereal bar, he’d snap at them.

Eventually, JJ had had enough. She watched Spencer snap at Luke, who was just trying to encourage him to put something other than coffee in his system. She stood up from her seat, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her. He attempted to protest but she gave him a look that made him decide that it was best he keep his mouth shut. She pulled them into an empty office, closing the door behind them for privacy.

��You gotta listen to me, Spence.” She spoke calmly. “I know this is killing you. I know how badly you want to find her and bring her home. Everyone out there is trying so hard to do that for you.” She pointed to the doorway to emphasise her point. She dropped her arm back down to her side as she watched him run his hands over his face exhaustedly. “Talk to me.”

“I just I can’t think straight-” He whimpered out, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “I need her to come home, I can’t live without her.” He got a little choked up, his hands trembling slightly as he desperately tried to keep his emotions in check.

JJ gently placed her hand on his shoulder, still cautious of touching him since his release from prison, not wanting to alarm or startle him.

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that we’ll find her. Y/N is tough, she won’t let him break her.”

Spencer nodded, wiping his eyes on the cuffs of his blazer. He was about to thank JJ for her comfort when a knock sounded through the room. Tara came in, a morbid look on her face. “You guys need to come see this.”

When they reach the conference room again, all of the team is gathered around the table, their gazes all trained on the phone in the middle of the table that was ringing.

Emily looked to Garcia. “Are you ready to trace the call?”

Garcia nodded. Spencer was about to ask what was happening when Emily reached over, answering the phone and putting it on loud speaker. “This is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI, who am I speaking to?”

“I want to speak with Dr Reid.” The unsub’s voice boomed through the speaker, and Emily exchanged a look with Spencer as she shook her head, placing a finger over her lips.

“We want proof of life before we negotiate anything with you.” She stated.

“She’s listening, perfectly alive. I want to speak to Dr Reid.”

Emily nodded toward Spencer, signalling for him to speak.

“I’m here.” He spoke, keeping his voice strong despite how he wanted to cry. It was a skill he’d learned in prison- tears equated to weakness, and weakness got you killed.

“I’d like you to know, I’m feeling generous today.” The unsub sounded like he was smirking on the other end of the line, almost proud.

“You are? What does that mean?” Spencer continued the conversation on, keeping the unsub on the line long enough for Garcia to get a location.

“I’ve spent a fair bit of time with Y/N. She’s fierce. Hard one to break, this one.” He was mocking Spencer, taunting him, and he had to try ridiculously hard to keep his building anger in check. “She begs for you, you know? When my punches make pretty bruises bloom across her skin she pleads for you to save her. But she’s tough, always hitting me back with insults. You know earlier, she actually spat at me, the bitch.” He chuckled, and Spencer breathed in deeply, gripping the edges of the table in a death-grip.

Rossi shot him a look from across the table that said ‘Keep it together’.

“No worry, I’m sure I can break her. If you give me some more time with her, maybe I can try some.. alternative methods.”

That was the line for Spencer, who spat through clenched his teeth and stood to hover over the phone. “You listen to me, you son of a bitch, if you touch her I swear to god-“

“I’d be careful about threatening me, or I might not be so generous.” The unsub tutted.

“What do you want? Tell me what you want in return for Y/N’s safety.”

“This isn’t a bargain, Doctor. This is a kindness. I’m going to let pretty young Y/N speak with you before I kill her. I’m not so much of a monster that I would stand in the way of young love. You have five minutes to talk. You’re welcome.”

There was more rustling on the phone, and then silence.

And then finally-

“Spence?”

Her voice was croaky, likely from the lack of water and her screaming. It sounded so broken, and Spencer’s heart ached because he could tell she was using all of her strength to try and sound okay for him.

Spencer sighed out of relief. despite how it sounded, proof that she was alive was enough to lift the slightest bit of weight from his shoulders. “It’s me, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“I think some of my ribs are broken, my wrist definitely is. I’m trying to be strong Spence but I don’t know if I can-“ She choked and tears filled his eyes as he willed them to keep at bay.

“Y/N, listen to me. I will find you. Do you understand me? You will not die there. You’re gonna come home to me, I promise you that.” The tears he tried to hide away slowly trembled down his cheeks as he made promises that he wasn’t 100% sure he could keep.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry-“ She started but he interrupted her.

“Please don’t apologise, It’s not your fault, baby.” He pleaded, the feeling of dread filling him the longer they spoke.

Around the table, each team stood watching in shock, tears swimming in their own eyes.

“Two minutes.” The unsub shouted through the phone.

“I need to tell you something.” Y/N whimpered.

Spencer shook his head although she couldn’t see it. “No, I know where you’re going with this, stop it.”

She ignored his plead. “Spencer Reid, I’ve loved you ever since we met, when you spilled your coffee all over me. I remember it like it was yesterday. Your coffee ruined my outfit, and you were an apologising mess, so you gave me your jacket, even though it meant you’d get cold. I’ve loved you ever since that moment, Spencer.” Her voice broke at the end and she cleared her throat, determined to finish what she wanted to say. “You have to promise me you will move on, Spencer. You’ve got to let yourself be happy. You deserve it, so much.”

Spencer whined, his own voice croaky. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say goodbye to me, Y/N.”

The booming voice of the unsub came through the speaker again. “Times up.”

“Spencer I love yo-” The end of her sentence was cut off by the unsub ending the call, the dial tone ringing out when the line went dead.

Spencer’s hands were shaking in anger as he closed his eyes, bowing his head, hopelessly trying to keep himself calm.

Emily was the first to speak. “Did you get it, Garcia?”

Garcia continued to click away from a few moments before gasping. “Yes! Yes! I got it!”

The exclamation made Spencer’s head shoot up.

“Send us the address.” Emily ordered, as the team headed out toward the cars, with no time left to waste.

The team pulled up to the location Garcia had given them, splitting off into two groups to cover the front and back entrances.

Spencer, JJ, Luke, and Emily were all cautiously walking down one of the warehouse’s winding corridors, before turning the corner, guns in hand. They’d entered a large room, and Spencer’s eyes immediately landed on the limp figure hunched over in a chair in the centre of the room.

Whilst the other members made sure there were no other possible threats in the room, Spencer rushed forward, the only thing he could think of was getting to her.

Oh god please be alive, please.

As he got closer, he took note of the wounds she has sustained. There was blood pooling from a wound on her thigh, and a few other cuts and bruises.

Why was she so still?

As soon as he reached her his hands cupped her cheeks, her head lolled towards him, as she struggled to hold it up. He pressed two of his fingers to her neck and had never been so thankful to feel a shallow pulse beneath her skin.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up, come on sweetheart.” He pleaded, swiping his thumbs over her cheeks.

She blinked her eyes open, groaning in pain as she came to. She hissed at the pain in her thigh, her eyes focusing on the man in front of her. “Spencer?”

“It’s me, I’m here. We’re gonna get you out of here alright, just stay with me.”

“He left a few minutes before you got here-“ She coughed mid-sentence, nodding her head weakly toward the back entrance of the room. “He went that way.”

Luke and Emily moved towards the back entrance in pursuit of the unsub, while JJ stayed back to untie Y/N’s wrists from behind her whilst speaking into her radio requesting medical attention.

Y/N groaned again as she felt Spencer’s hands on her thigh, desperately trying it slow the bleeding. She blinked, despairingly trying to stay awake. Spencer could see her fighting and scrambled to find something to distract her with. “Hey, hey. you remember when we met? Like you said on the phone? That I completely ruined your blouse with my coffee because I’m an idiot.” He gave her a small forced smile that he hoped would reassure her as she wailed out again in pain.

He looked at JJ, who looked back at him with tears in her own eyes. “I don’t think we can wait much longer for the medics, we’re gonna have to bring her to them.”

“Are you sure we should move her?” JJ asked.

Spencer simply nodded. “She might die if we don’t move her now, she’s losing too much blood.” He pulled his belt from his waist, tying it tightly just above Y/N’s leg wound. She let out a shrill cry of pain, sobs escaping her lips.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts. We’re gonna get you up and outside okay.” He cooed as he hoisted her up bridal style, holding her as gently as he could so as not to agitate her wound. With JJ beside them, he began to walk back towards the entrance. “It’ll be okay. I promise. You’ll be okay.” He pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead as a promise.

Her head dropped against his shoulder and he looked down at her, his tone pleading as he spoke. “I know you’re tired baby but you gotta keep those beautiful eyes open for me, okay?” They were just stepping through the front door when she spoke.

“Spence..” She whispered, her eyes fluttering as she defeatedly attempted to stop the darkness from consuming her.

“Yeah?”

She didn’t answer.

Everything was a blur after that.

The hospital waiting room was one of Spencer’s least favourite places, he’d decided.

The strong smell of disinfectant along with the bright lights and white walls irritated his eyes, making his headaches even worse. He didn’t dare try to sleep though, not until he knew if she was okay. His head was in his hands and his leg bounced anxiously as he sat in the waiting room, his team surrounding him, all aching for any news.

Finally, after what felt like hours had dragged on, a nurse entered the room calling for Y/N’s family.

Spencer stood so quickly he nearly toppled over. He moved toward the nurse nodding his head frantically. “I’m her fiancee, is she okay?”

The nurse gave him a smile and nodded. “She’s absolutely fine, sir. The wound on her thigh bled quite heavily, but we were able to stabilise her. She has a few bruised ribs and a broken wrist, but she will make a full recovery. She’s awake if you’d like to see her?”

He nodded again, sparing a thankful glance at his team before following the nurse down the hallway.

He’d never felt such a sweet relief as he did when he saw her sat up in her hospital bed, a small smile on her lips as she drank from her water cup. Her smile brightened at the sight of him and she gave him a little wave, setting her cup down on the tiny side table.

“Thank god you’re okay.” He murmured once he reached her bedside, leaning down to engulf her in a light hug, so as not to cause her any pain.

She grinned, reaching her good hand up to hold him to her.

When he pulled back he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, one that just further assured him that she was okay. Once they pulled away, he moved his hands to cup her cheeks.

“Hi.” He grinned, the tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hi.” She gave a light chuckle, immediately regretting it when a sharp pain seared through her chest, making her wince.

He pressed his forehead to hers in a sweet gesture, closing his eyes as he basked in her warmth. He tuned his ears into the rhythm of her soft breathing, focusing on them and trying to keep his in time with hers.

She gently brushed her hand up and down his forearm in a comforting manner. “It’s okay, Spence. I’m okay.”

“I nearly lost you.” His throat caught on the words, and she noticed the stray tears that quivered down his cheeks.

She smiled sadly as he opened his eyes, hazel orbs meeting hers. “But you didn’t. I’m here. I’m alive, you’re alive, and it’s all gonna be just fine.”

He nodded before pulling away from her. he reached for the chair that was up against the wall of the room, pulling it so he could sit at her bedside. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.” He frowned, placing his hands in his lap. “I should’ve protected you. It’s my job to protect you. How can even think I’ll be a good husband, even a good father someday if I can’t keep you safe?”

She reached over and gripped his hand tightly. “You will be a phenomenal husband Spencer Reid, and an even better father. In less than five months I’ll be your wife, and I’ll be the happiest woman alive.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing manner and he smiled a little at her compliment. “And when we have a baby, they’ll be the luckiest kid on earth to have you as their father.”

“Yes ma’am.” He teased and she smiled, happy she’d been able to quash his worries, for the moment at least.

His fingers hovered over the engagement ring on her finger, bringing her hand to his lips to place a kiss on it. “Why wait?” He murmured.

“What?”

“Why should we wait five months? The nurse said they’re gonna discharge you on Thursday morning. So as soon as you’re up to it why don’t we go down to the courthouse and elope?” He queried, a smile on his lips.

“Spence.. the weddings all planned. Five months isn’t a long time.” She countered, a small smile on her lips.

“It is, it’s too long. I don’t want to waste another minute of my life not being married to you. I want you to be Mrs Reid and I want us to start living our lives together. We can still have the wedding, we’ll just get married twice.” He shrugged, and Y/N couldn’t believe she was really considering the idea.

“Spence, I don’t know..” She trailed off, still needing a little convincing to get on board.

He released her hand and stood from the chair, moving it over slightly before lowering himself down onto one knee, taking her hand again. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me-“

“You know you’ve already asked me this? Like a year ago.” She teased, and he chuckled shaking his head at her.

“Hush, let me finish. Will you marry me, on Thursday?”

“Yes.” She answered with a grin, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

He beamed, surging forward and wrapping her in his arms.

“You know, Garcia will kill us for getting married without her there.” She smirked as they pulled back, and Spencer nodded in agreement.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“You think she won’t find out? I’ll leave you to deal with her when she gets angry, Dr. Reid.” She joked, and he laughed with her.

“I think I can handle it, Mrs Reid.”

She grinned at the premature use of the name. “You can’t call me that until Thursday, you know.”

“Technically I can’t. But as soon as I can, I’ll never stop.” He promised, leaning down to kiss her once more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #hercleverboy

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hotchseyebrows · 3 years ago

Text

thoughtfulness in little things

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: can you believe that is my first ever full length morcia fic? me? resident morcia nut? wow. what a world. anyway!! i hope yall like this (and if you noticed it was already on ao3 earlier today shhh this is a scheduled tumblr post im Sleeping rn) and hopefully i dont take 4 months in between posting fics again, but i make no promises!!! my brain is Evil

thank you @blkantigone for being my beta and thank you @derekmorqan for letting me barf 1k of this in our dms a while back, i love you both sm

they do kiss a fair bit in this (it is, in fact, a first kiss fic) and its a little steamy, but by no means explicit and is rated teens and up on ao3 :)

read it here on ao3!!

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?”

Everything changes during a late night in Penelope's batcave. But really, nothing changes at all.

word count: 3000

Friday nights without a case are a rare treasure for SSA Hotchner’s highly sought after team of profilers. Normally, Derek and Penelope would be taking advantage of the freedom by dancing all night, but sometimes the universe has other plans.

Penelope used this week’s case-free time to put the finishing touches on an antivirus and security software of her own creation. The personal information of her beloved BAU babies was a hot commodity well worth the additional protection, and she’s always looking for a reason to fiddle with Quantico’s servers. It ended up being a whole production, taking the entire afternoon and then some. Apparently, she still doesn’t have all of the permissions required to make certain adjustments which means that she’s fiddling and bending her way into all of the things she needs to do. If that wasn’t bad enough, the whole damn thing crashed around 4:00. She managed not to pull her hair out, but it was a close thing and it set her back at least an extra hour.

Derek stops by a little after 5, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Baby girl, I can hear the bottles of DC’s finest vodka and Hennessy calling our names, are you almost ready to leave for the day?” He pauses in the door, taking in her furious typing and furrowed brow. “Whoa, Mama, what’s the matter? You’ve got Hotch’s eyebrows.”

She throws her arms up. “The entirety of the FBI and also the world is getting on my nerves!” He walks over to her, leaning on the side of her chair and turning her away from her monitor. His hands gently grab both of hers and he rubs a soothing circle with one of his thumbs.

“Explain, baby girl.”

She does, eventually just ranting and raving about how annoying it is to still be put in metaphorical handcuffs by the FBI as if she can’t just do what she wants anyway. “I’m not even breaking any rules, technically, they’re just making things annoying and long winded.” She sighs, moving her hands to interlock their fingers. “But now that it’s started, it would be doubly annoying to stop it and come back later. So I’m stuck here until it’s done, which might take a while.”

He nods, thinking. Then he straightens up, grabs the extra rolling chair, and sits down.

Penelope splutters. “Sugar, you don’t have to stay here with me, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

He shrugs. “How am I supposed to party when my best girl is stuck at work?” She blushes, turning away to hide it on instinct.

“You cheeseball.” She spins around to lightly push on his arm. He just smiles.

They sit together for 20 minutes in relative silence as she continues her work. It’s a comfortable silence; his occasional humming soothes her rising annoyance at how needlessly long this is taking. She can hear him playing with one of the fidget toys she keeps on her desk behind him. When she gets to another point of sitting and waiting, she turns towards him and asks him about his day. He tells her about how Prentiss helped him get Reid back for a prank by distracting him in the break room while he switched out the keyboard of Reid’s computer with an identical one with a grass garden planted inside. “It’s a long con for sure, but I’m hoping it sprouts this weekend.”

She laughs. “How long did it take you to set this up, dumpling?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to see his slightly sheepish but proud look about his dedication to his prank war. Her computer beeps at her, and she spins back around to begin working again.

He rolls closer, avoiding her question and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You getting hungry yet?”

She relaxes, leaning against him. As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “Yes, I’d say so.”

He leans over and moves a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay baby girl, I’ll go grab us food and be right back.” She nods, lifting her cheek on instinct to meet the kiss she knows is coming. He stands and sure enough, leans down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be quick. Be good.”

“How can I do anything else if you’re not here?” She bats her eyes up at him.

He grins. “Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something.” He brushes his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her shiver.

She watches him leave, catching the kiss he blows at her from the door. Turning back to focus on her work, it feels like she blinks and he’s back. A glance at the clock tells her it’s been over a half hour. He puts the bag of food onto the table before coming to pull her away from the computer.

“One minute, I promise, I’m so close to just letting this thing run for a little.” He twirls her hair around his fingers before dropping his hands onto her shoulders, rubbing away the tension. A minute and a half later, she leans back in her chair with a sigh. She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at her.

"Come eat, baby girl. Don't think you're getting out of eating my hard won dinner." He moves to the table and pulls out her chair. She follows and sits.

"Hard won — mon cher, you didn't tackle a wild animal and lug it home to our log cabin in the woods, you drove your car 20 minutes."

He kisses her temple, handing her a pair of chopsticks. "Yeah, but I would lug home whatever you needed anytime, so the sentiment is the same."

She smiles and knocks their feet together under the table lightly. He moves his chair, so they are sitting right next to each other on the same side of the table. The heat from his arm is palpable.

Derek grabs a box from the bag and splits the vegan pad thai within onto two paper plates. He opens the box of spring rolls and places it in between them while she places napkins in front of them both. He pops the cap off of her bottle of lemonade without her asking, and sets that in front of her too. “Thank you, handsome.” He smiles in response. They start eating and the comfortable silence returns.

She talks him through what she still needs to do to fix everything in between bites, even though she knows he doesn't really understand her technobabble. But Penelope can feel his eyes on her, and without looking, she somehow knows that something has shifted in the air around them.

"What?" she asks, turning her attention away from gesturing at her computer with the chopsticks. "Do I have something on my face?"

He chuckles. "Actually, yes, c'mere." He brushes away a stray spot of sauce on the corner of her lips with a gentle swipe of his thumb. The rest of his hand stills on her cheek. She shivers. She can see him notice it, his attention focusing in on her. Penelope's blood is thundering in her ears as he glances in between her lips and her eyes.

She leans purposefully into his hand. His thumb brushes over her lips again and her mouth falls open a little.

"Penelope, I-" he cuts himself off with a hard swallow. "Penelope." His eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes quickly again.

She can only blink at him for a moment. "Yes, Derek?"

"I don't kn- um. Can I-" She's never seen him flustered and unsure like this. But they've never been out of sync before and they aren't about to start now, so she nods, bringing up a hand to rest on his. A smile grows on his face before he starts to lean in. His hand slides along her cheek to more firmly grip her face- it makes her gasp.

He pauses, thinking something is wrong. "Penelope, are y-" Her heart swells at how careful he is to take care of her always, and she meets him in the middle, pressing their lips together in a soft, purposeful kiss.

For a moment, all is still. The world boils down to just the place where their lips are touching. Their lips barely brush against one another, but already Penelope feels light headed. Derek separates their lips for a moment before kissing her again, a firmer touch this time. She sucks in a breath through her nose. His lips are incredibly kind- that’s the only word for it. He doesn’t seem to know the word “take” right now because all she can feel from him is “give.” As he presses into the kiss and gently cups the side of her face, her brain wildly spins through thoughts about how of course he’s like this even when kissing her and how good he smells and how she can’t believe they haven’t done this sooner.

He draws her closer against him, pressing into the kiss more insistently before bringing his other hand up to her face and holding her. His fingers move to cup the sides of her neck and she tilts her head to the left a touch, letting her mouth fall open in a sigh. He makes a soft noise before tentatively sliding their tongues together. A full body shiver runs down her spine and through her limbs. Another small noise falls from the back of his throat. Her stomach swoops like they've just dropped down the side of a huge arch in a roller coaster. She places both hands on his chest, pressing forward. He moves with her, chair squeaking underneath him as he presses closer, one arm snaking around her back. Penelope’s heart pounds even louder. His tongue is gentle even in its insistence as their kiss turns slightly desperate.

It feels like someone has lit a fire underneath Penelope’s chair, warmth washing over her whole body and radiating out from everywhere they touch. One of his hands tangles into her hair as he gently tilts her head back. If she wasn’t sitting her knees would have buckled so long ago, but now she would absolutely be on the floor. It’s no surprise that Derek Morgan is an incredible kisser, but knowing something and knowing something is so different.

He pulls back, letting their foreheads rest together. Her eyes stay closed, tingles radiating from everywhere his fingers are tenderly holding her face. She tightens her grip on his shirt. He kisses the tip of her nose. "You still with me, baby girl?"

She nods, breathless. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Hi." It's the first thing she thinks to say.

He laughs. "Hey you."

She has so many questions- how long have you wanted to do that, can we do that again right now, can we do so much more right now, right here- but before she can ask any of them, her computer beeps loudly. "Oh!" She jumps at the sudden noise. He drops his hands and leans back, looking far too much like the cat who got the cream. "I should- right, I should deal with that," she says, standing on shaky legs. Heels were never so precarious. Of course, there is no hiding from a profiler.

He grins up at her. "Need some assistance?" His eyes are shining like he's hiding a joke. She scrunches her nose at him, biting back a smile.

"Oh, hush you. I’m perfectly capable of walking 3 feet, thank you very much." Her tenacity is a little undercut from the way her hands are trembling a little as she smooths her skirt, but still. The point remains.

He raises his hands in surrender. "Alright baby girl, go on then."

She walks over to her computer and stays standing to fiddle with the wires behind it before bending over at the keyboard and reading the report on the screen. "It shouldn't be much longer now, it just needs to run the last new anti-virus- what?" He's leaning back in his seat and staring at her, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"What, Mama?" But he knows what, clearly evident from the way he is trying to school his expression into something innocent.

She blushes. "Derek Morgan, I don't know what I'm going to do if you keep looking at me like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I might have some ideas."

She sucks in a sharp inhale through her nose. Playing nonchalant, she turns back to her computer. "Well, I might have to hear your ideas out."

"Yeah?"

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he's grinning.

"Yeah." she says, not trusting what will come out of her mouth if she elaborates (probably something along the lines of “I’d listen to all your ideas, do your ideas include any semblance of forever, if you keep grinning like that I'm gonna lock the door and do something reckless”).

They sit in relative silence, just the sounds of her typing filling the room. When she finishes, she spins her chair around. "Hi," she says again.

"Hi baby," he responds.

Her fingers twist and curl the hem of her skirt. "So, uh, well, that's gonna take at least another 30 minutes to finish running."

He raises one eyebrow. "30 minutes, huh?"

She nods. "Might be a good time for some of those ideas."

He stands and walks across the room to her. She takes his offered hand and stands as well. They stay there, inches apart and holding hands as the charged atmosphere around them seems to crackle. In the same breath, they lean in to kiss again. Both of her arms wrap around his neck as he tucks his around her waist. He pulls her against him, fully pressed together as the soft kiss deepens into something heated and desperate.

He bites her bottom lip gently before the kiss turns open mouthed and slick. She arches against him as they slide into a slow rhythm. She feels fluttery, like his arms are the only anchor point in the whole world and if he let her go, she’d simply float away. He tastes like lemonade, sweet and alive. She hums as he tracks his hands in a slow circle at the base of her spine. Her knees really do buckle a little as he attempts to tug her closer, but he holds her steady. She rests a hand on his cheek and grounds herself by using the other to grip the back of his neck. She’s utterly swallowed up by him, his arms and his mouth and just him surrounding her in their own little cocoon. He separates their mouths to kiss across her jaw and down her neck, hands flattening on her back. He places a line of long kisses down to the crook of her neck. She lets out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to give him more room. He sinks his teeth into the same spot lightly, and she shudders.

"Derek," she whispers. She can feel his smile against his skin as he kisses the same place again.

They slow to a stop, tucked against each other. He rests his face against her neck and mumbles something against her skin. "Hmm honey?" she says, hand rubbing a circle on the nape of his neck.

"I got us that Talenti ice cream you like," he says, only moving enough to be heard. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, and the color changing spoons are still in the break room.”

"Oh Der, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do all of that." Her heart skips a beat.

He shrugs, kissing the side of her neck. "I wanted to."

She is half tempted to haul him in for another kiss, but as if on cue, her stomach grumbles. He picks his head up and smiles at her. "Come eat now," he says before giving her another quick peck.

She lets him pull her to the table, but before they sit, she pulls him in again. He chuckles into the kiss. "Eat, you menace." He mumbles against her lips. Pulling back, he plants a kiss on the apple of her cheek as he guides her into her seat.

She bites a retort about how she was trying to but he sees it on her face anyway.

"Later, baby girl. Dinner first."

“Then dessert?” She tilts her head and gives him a flirty smile.

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “All the dessert you want, Penelope.”

Much the same as before, they eat in comfortable silence. Except this time he rests a hand on her thigh, and traces a slow lazy circle with his thumb. The conversation picks back up and turns to unrelated things. Derek muses about possible retaliations from Spencer once he notices his new desk plants as he casually offers her a bite from his plate. She takes it, humming.

Something Penelope did not realize had lost its footing resettles in her chest. Nothing is different, not in any way that would scare her or be a loss. They are just the same as they've always been, but also more. (Though she'd be hard pressed to think of a time when this wasn't the way they were. Maybe things are just being unveiled, not changed.)

When they finish eating, he goes to get the ice cream and two of the fun spoons from the break room. They split the pint and laugh far too loudly for how late it is. The computer beeps for a final time, software finally fully uploaded and settled. She still has to run tests and double check that everything is working, but that can wait. Derek offers her a bite of ice cream, and if he kisses her again to remove the ice cream from her bottom lip, she can't say she minds.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #cm #cj.txt #cjs fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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insufferablelust · 4 years ago

Note

blurb/one shot about reid coming home after prison and the team wants you to go home with him to his apartment to comfort him because you guys are good friends. he starts to talk about how lonely he was and how much he missed talking and laughing with you but also how much he dreamt of touching/fucking you while he was there. spencer is a very hard dom and rough considering he hasn’t touched anybody in months.

Warning : Smut! with some name calling, and dom!Spencer x Sub! Reader.

When you received the news that Spencer has been released from that god awful prison, you jumped at the first look of him entering the bullpen with JJ after the whole Cat ordeal. You hugged him like you would hug a boyfriend, but you didn’t care, you haven’t seen him in so long— he refused to let you visit him on prison because he can’t bear the thought of how the others would watch you and Spencer’s blood boiled at the thought.

Its how you two has always been together, since you joined the team after Emily depart to interpol, you have always been close to Spencer— from the outside, it would look like you two were too close, but neither of you really cared. It would be naive of course, if you lie and say you don’t love him— because you do, as a best friend and so much more. But you knew, how difficult relationships could get for him so you never tried to pry more than you were given even if you had to watch him break down after Maeve, and the stories that follows.

Morgan teased you about it before he left, saying how you should make your move now rather than later— only Morgan knows how much love you have for Spencer (and Morgan is also the only person who knows how much love Spencer have for you) but you shrugged and laughed it off, swallowing down the bitter pill of reality that he would never look at you more than just a friend— a very close caring friend that kissed multiple times because they were drunk, yeah that’s it, right?

Wrong.

It’s been a few weeks since Spencer’s release and the whole Mr.Scratch mess. You were just quietly enjoying your mandatory break with red wine on your hand and flashes of imagination that accompanied your thoughts. You sighed as you take a look at your phone to see a message from Penelope.

Garcia, P ❤️

Hey princess! how about you, me, em, JJ, and Tara go out to shop tonight? maybe we could catch up too? i miss you aaalll soo much.

You smiled at the sweet message, quickly typing a ‘yes i’ll be there, your majesty. and i miss you too.” It wasn’t that difficult of a choice, seeing as you weren’t doing anything anyways, and you sure as hell could buy some more things just for the sake of retail therapy.

You quickly changed into a comfy dress that stops just below your knee, with a vintage belt around your hips and a cute burgundy cropped cardigan to keep you warm. You were zipping your bag when you heard it, heard the pretty loud bangs on your door that had you startled. To say that you were a bit paranoid was an understatement, as you approached the door with a gun prepared on your hands— you squinted at the peephole to see if you should open your doors or not, to your absolute childish-crush surprise— it was Spencer, a very disheveled looking Spencer standing in front of your door.

As soon as you sees him, you placed your gun away safely tucked on your cabinet before opening the door and let him in. He was dressed somewhat nicely, shirt tucked underneath his pants with his signature dark blue cardigan, his hair was a mess, and the bags below his eyes indicated that he’s in fact not doing well— though you figured as much.

“Spence, are you okay? you look tired.” You mumbled carefully, as you sat down beside him on your couch, his eyes wouldn’t even look at you but rather taken a keen interest on the floor of your apartment.

“Oh..are you going on a date?” He asks timidly, his voice shaky and on edge as his gazed turned to your bag and then your clothes.

“What? No, no no! Pen asked me out on a shopping night with the girls so i was just about to go.” You laughed, and you swore you heard his loud sigh of relieve when you said that, but you’re convinced that your mind is telling tricks to you.

“Well um i can go.. if you’re—“ You cut him off instantly just as he about to stand, you grabbed his wrist tightly to pull him back down and shake your head, smilling softly, “No.. Please, i can shop another time— you came all the way here so stay okay?” You begged him, eyes desperately trying to lock with his.

“Okay... okay, Y/N.” He sniffled, eyes finally met yours— you were shocked to see they were brimmed with raw fresh tears, falling slowly down his cheeks— you didn’t say anything else, just immediately tucking him against your sides so his head was laid on top of your heart and your fingers on his hair.

“Oh it’s okay, shh it’s okay— you’re okay, i’m here just let it out..” You cooed, holding him tightly as he sobbed onto your chest.

“Got your pretty dress all wet..” He mumbled as you both were laying down on top of the soft rug near your fireplace on the floor, your cheeks warmed at the sound of his voice, “It doesn’t matter, it’s not that your teardrops are made of paint anyways.”

You both laughed at your answer, laying on each other’s side, eyes locked. You brushed your fingertips across his cheeks, feeling his breath shuddered, “Spencer..” You whispered softly.

“Hm?”

“What happened?” His eyes fluttered shut as he drew in a sharp breath, your fingers were calm and soothing on his skin. “You’ll hate me..” He suddenly whispered, voice shot and it nearly made you cry.

“No, no i won’t. Hey look at me, there you go.. Spencer.. you know i’ll always support you no matter what, and i’ll never judge you of any decision you made because i know you, okay? and i trust you.” You emphasized each word, as your nose brushed against each other— you could care less at the thoughts of breaking regulations now.

“I know Y/N, it’s not that.. it’s just..” He moved back a bit, before intertwining your hand in his and kissed the knuckles, “I missed feeling happy.. missed being.. being able to help.. to talk freely... to sleep without nightmares.. to just—“ His voice trembled as fresh stream of tears threatening to fall upon his skin, you were quick to held his hand tighter so he knows you’re there with him— that you’re real.

“To have a control over my life, over something.. everything is out of place, Y/N... I-I can’t live like this.” You could see it in his eyes, just how much he wanted to feel the control again— to make his own decisions without having the trauma of being drugged by a female serial killer or catched by the police.

“And.. and i can’t stop thinking about..” He stopped as he bit his lip, under the soft glow of the crackling fore— you could see just how pink his cheeks get as he stared at you still, his palm is now pressed against your cheeks, “About what, spencer?” You whispered, feeling overwhelmed already by the warmth of him pressing against you so closely, your heart thrummed against your ribcage like a drum going off on it’s own.

“You... you— one of the only thing that kept me alive.. alive on— you, you i can’t get you out of my mind. I don’t like it..” His lips were practically brushing against yours as you widen your eyes, letting a pained, “Oh..” Left your lip as you came to a realization at what he’s referring to, but before you could get out of his grasp— he cut you off,

“I don’t like it because i can’t do a damn thing about it, Y/N. I don’t like it because i can’t touch you whenever i want, I don’t like it because.. because i’m so used to having things so certain.. all my life, all i want to believe in was numbers, and— and science but the only thing that makes sense right now in my life.. is you.” He craddled your jaw so gently as your forehead pressed against each other.

The room grew quiet after that, just heavy breathing, and both of you savoring the moment, the warmth of each other’s skin. You could hear a pin drop, but the only thing that you heard was his heartbeat that beats at the same pace as yours— fast, and full of desire, pent up desire for each other. His leg tangled itself onto yours as he inch his lips closer so they were practically grazing against each other, before he kissed you softly, softly yet so rough.. Rough as in he was savoring you, indulging in your taste.

The kiss lit you on fire, your skin burned against him as you whimpered softly at the pace of his kiss, it was rushed— yet full of desire, desire to claim each other.. to control you, and if you said you didn’t want it then that would be a lie. Here you are, sober and bright, with his tongue shoved deep inside your mouth, battling dominance— as you submitted to him, letting him to own that control.

When both of your lungs ran out of air, you whined against him, to which he pulled back and pant. Both of you tried to catch your breath, but your whole body is burning with fire— that fire is insatiable, the desire for him is insatiable.

“You said... you need control... let me be your canvas.” You whispered as you put your hands above your head and bit your lip nervously.

The silence returned as he watched you, stared at you, with so much adoration, shock, and lust.. it took him a bit of time to respond to your declaration, his hand wrapped itself on your neck, just held it there with a bit of pressure before whispering, “I’m not going to go easy on you.. are you sure you want this?”

You only smiled, and bat your eyelash at him, whispering, “Don’t hold back, Reid.”

Your back was arched in an angle you never knew you could reached, your hips constantly bucking up as your wrist tugged against the belt that tied them up tightly. Here you were, body as nude as day, with your hands tight together on top of your head, your panties shoved deep inside your mouth and the love of your life— the new version of him, has been between your legs for hours now, sucking the poor swollen clit of your cunt, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm that your eyes was wet with tears.

He hummed softly as he felt you clenched around his tongue, and tasting the way you ache and gushed onto his taste buds— groaning at the sweetness. He pressed a soft electrifying kiss on top of your clit that sent you to a sobbing mess before crawling up and pull the panties from your mouth and smile so softly yet so condescendingly.

“Oh princess.. Look at you, your make up is ruined.. look like such a mindless thing,” He taunted, causing you to buck your hips instantly, which earned a chuckle from him, “I didn’t know you would be this much of a depraved desperate whiny little girl, Y/N. I should’ve claimed you sooner.” You were screaming inside your head, telling him yes-yes you should but it’s okay.. i don’t mind now, just please— but the only thing that came out of your sinful bitten raw lips was a small “I’ve always been yours.”

He sees red instantly, hands clamping down your neck, as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling an overwhelming sense of power— control he’s been craving, and oh how kind were you, the light of his life to serve that control on a silver platter for him— silly thing you are.. of course he’s going to take you in every way possible.

“That’s right you are, keep that in mind, bunny. Try not to scream too loud yeah? hate to bother your neighbor right? how will i explain? that my baby just can’t take it when she get fucked til she goes mindless?”

Just as you were about to answer, his cock pushed past your tight entrance, so suddenly and deep that you yelled, yelled with pure pleasure of being stretched— burning with pleasure, “Oh! Spencer!” Your eyes rolled back to your skull, as he groaned, “Fuck— you’re so fucking tight angel, oh there’s a good little slut for me.”

At that, he began to thrust into you, so fast yet so deep, your lips wrapped itself around his thumb as he fuck the sanity out of you, feeling the overwhelming amount of raw pleasure— and love at the same time.

“Mmm! take me! oh god so deep, so— fuck!” You moaned after he pulled his thumb back, cultching your wrists together as the head of his cock hit that spot— the spot that has you seeing stars. He smiled as he keeps on working his thrusts “Yeah? yeah right there baby?”

“Y-Oh! yes, please please” Your whines were half coherent, but neither of you cared, nor complained, the only thing in your minds right now is to indulge in this burning fire of a pleasure, to relinquished control.

“Good girl, so fucking tight for me Y/N— god i love you..” He said it— said it, as his thrust became sloppier, yet somewhat deeper, his face were on your neck— biting a huge amount of marks, marks that’ll make sure everyone knows you’re his.

“I love you! i loveyou! god i—“ You were cut off as his other hand reach down to rub your clit fast, sending you into a spasm fit, back arched, nipples against his sweaty chest and the walls of your cunt clenched around his cock so tightly that it brings him to the very edge.

“Cum baby, cum for me, good- fucking girl do it.” He whispered, walls breaking down as he hold himself back as you cum, cum so hard around his cock that you were silent— only letting a very high pitched chants of his names, which brought him to his own release, coating— painting your walls with his cum, claiming you inside and out.

You both tried to catch your breath as he tried to pull out, in which you whined, “No.. wanna— wanna— ugh please?” Your glassy eyes were looking at him with such a pure adoration, pure submission, that he softly smiled and propped your both to your side with his softening cock still nestled deep inside your cunt.

You sighed as he unclasp his belt, bringing your wrist down to kiss them one by one. “I love you.. i do, i truly do Y/N.” He whispered, eyes looking at yours as you smiled widely, nodding and lightly sniffling.

“Hey.. dont cry, shh shh come here baby, hey hey.. are we taking turns to cry now?” He chuckled against your hair as he pulled you close, embraced you in his arm which you giggled at and pushed his chest a bit, before nuzzling your noses together,

“I’ve always loved you, Spencer Reid, and i always will.”

——

Oh my god!!! i know its not like the actual req, i changed it up a bit i hope whoever you are, you won’t mind!! anyways, thank you so much for requesting i love you! and thank you everyone for reading.

I’m gettting through my reqs right now, so if you requested in the past few weeks, expect them to be out soon! I love you all, blurb and tag list is always open. ❤️

#insufferableblurb #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #dom!spencer

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thewhitejournal · 4 years ago

Text

kind words .

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader oneshot

request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write an Aaron Hotch x shy reader where Hotch is always careful and gentle around the reader, but one day he yells at her in the middle of talking (maybe she messed up on the case) and she immediately shuts up and won't look at him bc it scared her so bad? If that makes sense.

alright @lovely-lady-lumps , this one is for you! i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations.

like and reblog if you liked it! :)

content warnings: angst, cursing, talk of murder/crime/violence

The team stood around in the large and finely decorated dining room of the Peterson’s home. They were waiting on a call from the unsub, as it was in his M.O. to do so. The daughter, Kelly, of James and Miranda, had been kidnapped. She was only seventeen, and as with most cases involving kidnapped children, time is of the essence.

Emily and JJ were comforting the parents in the nearby living room; they were both too distraught to pick up the phone when the unsub called. You were the unsub’s type, a younger, innocent-sounding girl. As the new agent trainee of the BAU, there were a lot of learning experiences for you to have. This was one of them. Hotch had so much faith in you that you could handle this case, even though it was one of the more emotional ones.

It would be a lie to try and say Aaron Hotchner didn't make a lasting first impression on you the first day you met him. You had to be interviewed by him to join the BAU. It was one of the most nerve-wracking days of your life

You took a shaky breath as you stepped out of the elevator, walking into the room you would soon learn to be was called the bullpen, where all the other agents sat. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, piercing through your skin like needles. You moved your feet with care up the stairs so as to not trip, like it was your first time walking up a set of them.

Agent Aaron Hotchner’s office was only a couple paces away now. Sure, you've had interviews before, but this one was different. This interview would decide the fate of your career for the rest of your life. Not to mention you'd heard plenty about the man conducting it; he was stern, strict, not to be messed with. He was a fearless leader and wouldn't take anyone’s shit. You'd even heard once that a bullet was fired right past his head at gunpoint and he didn't even flinch. Your anxiety and nerves were riding higher than ever.

Your knuckles rapped softly on the wooden door. ”Come in.”, you heard his voice sound from inside. Your breath shook as you exhaled and your shaky hand turned the knob, pushing the door open into his office. It was minimally decorated, and that's an overstatement. He had only a few personal items on his desk; pictures of him and what you assumed to be his son. He had a huge smile on his face, holding the child in his arms. The boy wore a soccer jersey and a smile to rival his father’s.

Agent Hotchner stood to greet you. Immediately you were intimidated by his height and overall presence. His hand was huge compared to yours, and warm in a comforting way. He gave you a small smile while shaking your hand, which made you feel a little better. ”Please, have a seat.” He said, gesturing to one of the leather armchairs that sat in front of his desk. You did as you were told.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, other than of course your occasional slip-up and stutter. But Hotch, which he said you could call him, always comforted you and spoke in a low, soft, gentle tone. This was the last thing you expected from a man like him.

Ever since then, he's always been so kind and helpful to you. How could you not fall for a man like that? Oh did you fall, hard and fast. The whole team certainly knew, but you weren't sure he did. They are all profilers after all. Prentiss, Garcia and JJ would lovingly tease you about him and always asked if either of you had made a move yet.

The answer was always ’no’; he was your superior in many ways, and you weren't even on the team officially. Reid and Morgan acted like a mix between older brothers and guys that still wanted you but knew Hotch had your heart, so they didn't dare overstep any boundaries. Rossi of course was like your father, advising you to be careful but that he would certainly make sure Aaron would never be found again if he hurt you. You knew it was all jokingly...hopefully.

Aaron stood over you, along with Rossi, Morgan, and Reid in the room. You let out a small, shaky breath as you waited for the phone call that should be coming any minute. You felt Aaron’s hand rest softly on your shoulder. He didn't say anything, but the gesture meant a million words. ”You can do this, (Y/N). I'm right here.” You could almost hear him whispering it into your ear.

The phone rang. The room was silent; all eyes were on you. A shaky breath escaped your lips, and you turned to look up at Aaron. His light brown eyes searched your face, dark brows furrowed as he tried to read your mind. With his job, it was almost entirely possible. He gave you a small nod; you took that as a sign to pick up the phone. You gathered as much courage as you could and pressed the button to answer it.

”Mmm...Miranda, my compliments to the chef. She takes right after you, curves in all the right places except even juicer...” The distorted voice filled the room. You cleared your throat.

”This is Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can Kelly come home, please?” You tried to sound as innocent as possible. Aaron’s hand squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, then his hand fell to his side. You had to speak in a way that would praise the unsub, say what he wanted to hear. He was a dominant sexual sadist; pleasing the unsub was the only way to get Kelly back to her family.

”And how old are you, young lady?” You cringed at the way he said it, but you kept your composure.

”25, sir.” He groaned at this.

”Sounds like a fair trade to me. Tell me (Y/N), what are you wearing?” Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was fuming. He hated hearing someone talk to you like that. He wanted so badly to intervene, tell the unsub to shut the hell up. But the case depended on this ruse.

”A white blouse. Your turn.” You yourself were starting to get angry. All you wanted was to help get this family back together, but it felt like you weren't getting anywhere.

”Nothing but a smile, darling.”

”Kelly’s mom and dad really miss her. Can she come home?” The innocent tone returned to your voice. A deep and distorted chuckle came from the other end of the line.

”No, no. I think I’ll keep her a little while longer. You should come and join us though. You sound like you'd be a lot of fun.”

Your blood was boiling, anger was clouding your mind. Tears were pushing against your water line, a few making it down your cheeks. You were biting your lip so hard you thought it might bleed. Word vomit was bubbling up inside you, and as bad as you wanted to control it, it all came spilling out.

”How could you do this to such a loving family, you sick fucking psychopath? What the hell is wrong with you, you freak? Can't you see the pain you've caused this family?” Even more tears spilled onto your face, and your fingernails dug into the palms of your hand, knuckles so white they envied the walls. The unsub scoffed from the other end, there was a scream heard, and then silence as the line went dead. Reid and Morgan looked at you with widened eyes. Rossi looked almost proud. You could see Hotch shaking his head in your peripheral vision, pinching the bridge of his nose. Your stomach sank. You knew you’d messed up, and it hurt you to know you probably let Hotch down. That was the last thing you ever wanted to do.

Garcia called Morgan’s phone, and he answered it quickly. “Hey, baby girl. Tell us you got something.” He immediately put her on speaker.

“I traced the call. I’m sending everyone the location.”

“Thanks, baby.” Morgan hung up the phone and shared a look with everyone in the room, including you. You saw Hotch motion them on out of the corner of your eye, but Morgan held his hand up at Hotch for some reason. You felt Hotch’s hand clasp your shoulder, and you looked up at him. His face was stern and hard like stone.

“I’m going to talk to you when we get back.” He said in a harsh tone, with a voice full of anger. You watched him hurry off out the door and heard the SUV’s sirens turn on and they all pulled away. You hadn’t even noticed Morgan didn’t follow the rest of the team out the door, not until he pulled a chair out from the table and flipped it to where his chest met the back of the chair. His arms folded over each other, resting on the chair. He sighed. You turned your head to look at him; with this motion, tears you didn’t even know had formed fell on to your cheeks.

“Morgan, I-“, your voice broke. You loved Aaron, all the stolen looks and little kind gestures. You didn’t care if it was inappropriate to say so, it was the truth. One thing you never wanted to do was disappoint him, but it seems you’ve done just that.

“(Y/L/N), it’s okay. Not everyone on this team is perfect, including Hotch. I know you’re not even on the team yet, but there’s no way he’s gonna let you go. Do you know why?” You didn’t answer; you figured he was going to tell you why anyway.

“Because you’re one of the most talented little profilers I’ve ever met.”, he continued. “You’re kind and smart and you’re damn good at this job. We’ve all made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we’re not good at what we do. Garcia found the location of the call, they will find her. It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”

You sighed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You wanted to believe that, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Morgan got up and motioned you to do the same. He pulled you into his strong arms, and it took every ounce of energy you had not to break down and start sobbing into his t-shirt. Your arms wrapped around his back and you squeezed his body.

“Thank you, Derek.” You muttered. He didn’t respond; his lips placed a quick kiss to the top of your head. He gave you a ride back to the police station, where the team would eventually end up. The family followed suit.

The unsub was caught and arrested. You heard a commotion coming from outside; it was the press, trying to get pictures and interviews from the team, per the usual. You looked up to see Aaron walking through the door with the rest of the team, with the unsub in handcuffs, pushing him towards a holding cell. The unsub looked over at you, did a once over of your body, and winked at you. Aaron noticed this and shoved him along a little more forcefully. The action made your heart flutter a little.

JJ went over to the family and told them their daughter was in the hospital and that she was going to be okay. They cried and hugged and thanked her. Hotch came back from disposing of the unsub to the local police, along with a couple of members of the team. “Great work guys. Wheels up in thirty.”, he told them. His eyes met yours, and he gestured with his head to one of the empty detective’s offices. You got up and followed him, watching your feet the whole way. Even when you went into the room and shut the door behind you, everything in the office seemed a lot more interesting than looking at Aaron. The blinds were shut and the room was dark, save for a desk lamp.

“(Y/L/N), the way you handled that phone call was unacceptable. The entire case could’ve been compromised and that girl could’ve died! What the hell were you thinking? I told you to stick to a script, tell the unsub what he wanted to hear. Was that not clear enough for you?” His voice rang out through the empty office, bouncing off the walls and coming back to hit you in the chest. You wouldn’t look at him. Your throat hurt, and tears fell on to your cheeks. You had one arm across your chest and the other propped up on it, fist under your chin.

“(Y/N), say something.” His tone seemed a bit softer now. His hand reached out to rest on your arm, but you shrugged him off. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I can’t be mad at you for getting emotional over this case, and this was a win for us anyway.” Your eyes finally met his.

His eyes were the soft, light brown that you loved. His lips were pressed into a thin line, apologetically you had to assume. You wanted to kiss him, but you knew that would be an overstep to your boundaries as a new agent trainee. His eyes flickered around your face, trying to read your emotions.

“Are you okay?” You nodded. He nodded back, in understanding. The tension in the air was so thick; you could hear your pulse in your ears and butterflies fought each other in your stomach. You were still looking at him, taking in every little detail of his face. He muttered for you to come here. You hesitated at first but stepped towards him. He pulled you into a hug, and you rested your head on his chest, taking in the moment along with a deep breath. He smelled almost like vanilla and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His heart was pounding in his chest, which quite surprised you. You’d think he would be calm.

You pulled away from his chest, still in his arms. You could swear his eyes looked darker. Maybe it was his intoxicating smell or the fact that the room was spinning already, but you could’ve sworn he leaned into you. You copied his motion, lips only centimeters apart now. Blood rushed to your cheeks, making them feel hot. He closed the gap, kissing you gently. He pulled your body closer to his; you were now chest to chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss deepened, and you heard him sigh; not one of annoyance, but one of happiness. He slowly pulled back from you, but didn’t meet your eyes. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, that was...unprofessional of me and-“ You silenced him by placing your lips on his again for a brief moment.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” You both smiled at each other, lips meeting again. The team was probably getting impatient, but neither of you cared. Everyone won tonight.

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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

Text

The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

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slowly-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Looks

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Canon typical violence

A/n: I wrote this through a sleep deprived, midterm frenzied daze, and I’m not 100% happy with it. But I hope it turned out okay.

“We have three victims in six weeks. They were all abducted from public places and were held for three days before being discovered in a different, but equally public place first thing in the morning,” Garcia begins the briefing, clicking through the slides of the abduction and dump sites, “all three victims were high risk-”

“Holy shit,” Emily cuts her off as the mugshots of the victims appear on the screen.

“You okay?” You ask cautiously. Emily isn’t one to interrupt a meeting, and the outburst makes you a bit nervous.

“You’re seriously telling me you don’t see it?” Emily looks between you and the screen, making you even more confused.

“I do,” Morgan says, JJ and Spencer nodding along.

“Alright, you all are going to need to let me in on your secret. What are we seeing?” The team is now all staring at you confused.

“You really don’t see it, do you y/l/n?” Rossi says and you groan in frustration.

“What is there to see?” You practically yell.

“They all look exactly like you,” Emily says and you freeze. You lock your eyes onto the screen and furrow your brow. Sure they have the same hair color and eye color, but surely you’re not identical in any way.

“No they don’t. Can we just get on with the briefing?” You huff out. Annoyed at all the attention on you. You’re here to help these women. Not agonize over their looks.

“Right, of course. The three victims were high risk, making them easy targets, but he could become bolder as time goes on,” Garcia finishes and you all nod.

“Then we better stop him before he does. Wheels up in twenty,” Emily dismisses you and you all move to leave the room. But she grabs your arm, forcing you to stay behind with her and the rest of the team pauses as well.. Rossi looks between the two of you, debating if he should usher the team out and give you some privacy. But before he can decide Emily looks at the rest of the team.

“She can’t go.” Your jaw drops at her words and you pull your arm from her grasp.

“What the hell Emily? You don’t think this is a conversation we should have in private?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice low.

“No because you’re not going to listen to me,” she crosses her arms and you roll your eyes at the stern look she sends you.

“Because you’re being ridiculous!” you yell this time and Morgan speaks up.

“She’s just trying to keep you safe. I know you say you don’t see it but you do look exactly like them.” You look around the room to see everyone nodding along and you sigh.

“I get that you guys are concerned for my safety, and I appreciate the thought, but it’s unnecessary. When you look beyond appearances I am nothing like those girls. More than that, I have you all to protect me. Now we can waste time with you forcing me to stay here and I’ll hop on a commercial flight tomorrow and meet you there, or we can get on the jet and help these women. So let’s save me the time and money and get going. These people deserve our help Emily, that’s our job right now,” the team stays silent but you can see their resolve cracking, Emily finally giving a nod that disperses the team. A look of anger crosses her face but you can see the fear that’s barely concealed. You step towards her, gently taking her hand.

“I’m going to be okay,” you promise and she sighs, placing a lingering kiss to the side of your head.

“You better be.”

xxxxx

“We need to hold a press conference,” Rossi says and you all nod, having been thinking the same thing. “Y/n needs to do it.”

That is where the agreement stops. You wouldn’t mind doing it, but everyone else begins voicing their concerns, nobody louder than Emily as she jumps out of her chair.

“Do you seriously think we’re letting him see her?” Emily snaps and you take her hand, pulling her back into her seat before she tries to lunge at Rossi’s throat.

“We all know this is the best idea. The profile doesn’t indicate that he’d be willing to try and grab me in public, but just in case I’ll wear a vest and I’ll have all of you to protect me. He’s not getting anywhere near me, but this is what needs to be done,” you try to sway her and you can see the conflict in her eyes. She wants nothing more than to catch this guy, but she won’t do it at the expense of losing you.

“I’m gonna be up there with you,” she says and everyone nods.

“We can do that. Morgan and Reid I want you taking pictures of the crowd to send back to Garcia. We know he’ll be there so be discrete, but get a shot of everyone there. Any questions?” Rossi has taken over the briefing and at the shake of your heads he dismisses the team. Morgan and Reid going to find their equipment, you and Emily sitting down to write the release, and everyone else scattering to set up the conference. In what feels like no time at all you’re on the stage getting ready to address the public.

“Thank you all for coming. As you all know, there is a predator in your community. Over the last several weeks, three women have been murdered…” you start your briefing. Emily stands silently beside you, sunglasses on and scanning the crowd. She looks more like your bodyguard than your girlfriend, but you let it slide. She’s nervous, and if standing next to you helps you’ll let her, that’s where she’s been the whole case. Your speech is long, definitely longer than it needs to be to get the point across but you plan on giving the team as much time as possible to scout the crowd. You continue sharing the profile, adding details and talking slowly until you hear a call through the coms that they’re ready. With that you wrap up your speech and exit the stage with Emily following behind you, both of you silently praying that this was enough to get the bastard.

xxxxx

“Samuel Finnigan. 1492 Beach road,” Garcia rattled off the address of your unsub as you all grab your vests and make your way to the SUVs.

“Thanks Garcia!” You end the call as you reach the parking lot.

“Woah woah woah. You are not coming with us!” Emily steps between you and the vehicles so fast you almost run into her.

“You mean you’re finally letting me out of your sight?” You can’t help the snarky reply. You’re getting really tired of this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snaps and you roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, trying to stop this from escalating.

“You’ve been attached to me all week. You’re always right next to me, and normally I wouldn’t mind that, I love spending time with you. But I can’t stand you watching me like I’m gonna snap in two. I’m fine. I’m a big girl, I can protect myself!” you yell, any sense of calm going out the window, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to this guy! Until he’s in custody you’re not going anywhere near him.” you groan and run your hands through your hair. This is absolutely ridiculous.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m in charge here, and what I say goes,” her words make anger boil deep within you, she sounds like a child fighting for power, and you half expect to see her stomping her foot like a toddler.

“You can’t just switch from being my girlfriend to being my boss to win an argument.”

“I’m your unit chief first,” she says firmly and something within you snaps.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be my girlfriend at all!” There's a moment of heavy silence. Even the wind seems to die down, leaving the two of you staring at each other in the parking lot, both waiting for the other to be the first to break.

“You aren’t coming,” Emily’s tone changes. This is the voice she uses when lecturing recruits, not the one she uses with you, so you put on an emotionless mask. If she’s gonna pull the unit chief card, you’re not letting her see how much it hurts.

“Is that an order?” you ask and she sighs.

“Y/n. Please don’t make me-”

“Is that an order?” you ask again, cutting her off mid sentence.

“Yes. That’s an order,” she knows she’s won the argument, but a look of defeat crosses her face anyway.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be here when you get back,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Y/n-” she takes a step towards you but you take one backwards, placing your hands behind your back and standing up straighter.

“You better get going, Unit Chief Prentiss.” She sighs again at your words but makes her way to the SUV. You can see the team staring at you through the windows and you lock your jaw at the looks of pity on their faces. They will not see you break. You won’t let them.

You don't go inside when they pull out of the parking lot. You need a few moments to compose yourself first. Looking up to the sky you try to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. You stay still for a few moments before hearing footsteps behind you.

“Sorry you just missed-” you cut yourself off. The man looking back at you is not a local officer, but instead the face from the DMV picture Garcia showed you. You drop your vest to move your hand to the gun strapped to your hip but he’s pointing one at you before you can grab it.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to follow me quietly and you won’t get hurt. At least not yet,” the sick smile on his face makes your stomach turn, but you nod. His smile widens and he gestures with the gun to his run down pick up truck parked behind the station. As the barrel of the gun is pressed into your back you take a few shakey steps towards the truck, weighing your options carefully. You wish you would’ve just put on the vest inside. You make a note to ask Emily about making that protocol if you get out of this.

The closer you get to the vehicle the more you realize you’re running out of time. In a split second decision you throw your elbow back, catching his nose as you try to duck out of the way of his gun. You manage to move enough that the bullet misses any vital organs, instead it goes straight through your shoulder. You scream in pain as he shoves you into the back seat of his truck. Blood pours out of your shoulder and your thoughts start spiraling as you slip into unconsciousness.

I’m gonna die.

Emily thinks I hate her.

I’m gonna die and Emily will never know how much I love her.

God I love her.

xxxxx

“He wasn’t there,” Emily tells the police chief as she enters the precinct and he nods. The rest of the team isn't too far behind, talking amongst themselves and debating their next steps.

“You still think it’s him?” a he asks the team, but another person speaks before any of them can.

“Where’s that other girl? Y/l/n, right? The one who looks like all the victims,” a rookie speaks and the BAU freezes, their attention snapping to him.

“What do you mean where is she? Is she not here?” Emily snaps and the poor man takes a step back, his fear clear as day.

“N-no. She went outside with you all. She never came back in. DId something happen?” He never gets an answer as Emily pulls out her phone and steps towards the conference room.

“Garcia I need you to pull the security footage from outside the precinct,” she says as soon as the line connects.

“I can do that. Why though? Do you think he was-oh god” Garcia cuts herself off and Emily’s jaw tightens.

“What’s happening Penelope?” Her voice has the same mix of anger and fear it’s held for days as she paces the room.

“I’m sending it to your tablets now,” Garcia’s shaky voice does nothing to calm their nerves as they all lunge for their tablets, watching in horror as you get shot, cursing themselves for leaving you alone.

“How the hell did these dumbasses not hear a gunshot right outside their door!” Emily yells, moving to storm out the door. JJ steps into her path, grabbing her shoulders to stop her.

“Emily, take a breath. You can go yell at the cops or we can sit down and figure out how to find y/n,” JJ’s voice is steady, much calmer than she feels, and Emily nods.

“Garcia, start looking for any properties in Finnigan’s name,” Emily orders and the team snaps into action. They’re going to find you, no matter how long it takes.

xxxxx

“No, that one was demolished, look,” Rossi slides a tablet in Reid’s direction. There’s a news article on the screen depicting a foreclosed property, half collapsed and surrounded with construction equipment.

“How has one man owned so many different properties in such a short amount of time? It’s like he was doing it intentionally, trying to make it harder for us to find him,” JJ’s voice is thick and scratchy, she hasn’t slept since you disappeared two and a half days ago, none of them have.

“He was definitely hiding from something, whatever it was. This is a man who doesn’t wanna be found,” Morgan says, tossing another empty coffee cup into the trash can that has long since overflowed. The team has lost count of how many pots of truly disgusting break room coffee they’ve made it through in the last few hours, Reid doesn’t think he’ll stop shaking for a month.

“I think I have something,” Penelope’s voice comes through one of the screens and they all snap awake. “His sister died 5 months ago, right before he started spontaneously buying and selling properties at an alarming rate, he clearly went on the run.”

“She must’ve been his first victim, and once he started he couldn’t stop. Who knows how many more victims there are that we haven’t even found yet,” Rossi says and Emily swallows hard.

“She looks like y/n, doesn’t she?” Even knowing the details of the case, it scares her to think he may see his sister in you.

“More than any of the others,” Garcia says, sending a picture along. The girl they’re all staring at could be your sister. You’re identical, right down to the way you style your hair. Under better circumstances Emily may joke about doing a DNA test to make sure you’re not actually related, but right now it makes her sick to her stomach.

“So we know why he’s doing this. Now we just need to figure out where,” Reid says and Penelope nods, smiling slightly.

“I may have that answer as well, this one fits all the parameters. It’s isolated, and he’s only had it for a few weeks, it’s definitely still standing,” she says, a bit of hope creeping into her voice. Even though she’s not there, she’s as scared as the rest of the team, if not more. They’re all a wreck, you’re family and they all have a feeling of terror that you may not be coming home with them. But none of them more than Emily. None of them feel the pain she does, but they’re all determined to make sure that pain is a temporary one.

“Send us the address,” Emily’s voice is firm and her fists clenched as they make their way to the SUVs once again, praying it’s not another dead end.

xxxxx

You know it’s them when there’s a banging on the front door of the cabin you’re being held in, it has to be them. The words “FBI open up!” are being yelled and you know you’re saved. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything as satisfying as the look of terror Samuel’s face as he takes off running. You hear what must be Derek kicking the door down before several sets of footsteps sound off through the house, Spencer being the first to appear in your line of sight.

“He went out the back,” your voice is weak, but he hears you loud and clear.

“Finnigan went out the back. I have eyes on y/n, you guys go get that son of a bitch.” You let out a weak laugh at that, you can count the number of times you’ve heard Reid curse on one hand with two fingers to spare. Unfortunately that laugh turns into a cough, and you’re quickly reminded of the extent of your injuries. The bleeding in your shoulder has never quite stopped and you have more bruises and cuts than you can count.

“Spencer. Tell Emily-” you pause, coughing weakly once again, “tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry and I didn’t mean it.”

“You tell her yourself,” his tone is harsh but you know it’s because he’s scared. As he takes a few steps closer to you he begins to frantically look around, for the rest of the team, for the medic he’s calling through his radio, for anyone. His head snaps back to you as your coughing continues. “Hold on, just a few more minutes.”

You nod at his words, your eyes starting to slip closed as he puts pressure on your shoulder. Your face scrunches up and you can feel tears starting to pool in your eyes, “Spence, stop. It hurts…please stop.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” his voice cracks but his hands don’t move. You can hear the someone jogging over, and you hope that means they have him in custody. It takes all the energy you have left to pull your eyes open again, seeing Emily’s face above you as she takes your hand.

“Emily I-” she shakes her head, cutting you off.

“I know, and I love you too. Just take deep breaths, it’s going to be okay.”

xxxxx

“Emily, I'm really sorry,” you whisper, hours later in a hospital bed with tears filling your eyes once again.

“I know. I am too. We both said things we didn’t mean, we didn’t want to hurt each other. It’s okay, love,” she says but you shake your head.

“It’s not okay. I almost died today and the last thing I would’ve said to you is that I didn’t want to be with you. I do. I promise you I do,” the tears start falling, but Emily is quick to brush them away.

“I know that. Even then, when you said that, I knew you wanted to be with me and I with you. I was so scared for your safety that I over reacted, and that reaction left you alone. If there’s one thing I learned from the last few days it's that we’re better together. We’re safer, happier, and stronger together. I wanted to do this later, maybe over a fancy dinner or a walk in the park, but now seems more appropriate,” Emily says and you furrow your brow as she reaches into her jacket pocket. Her smile is wide as she pulls out a ring, and the tears in your eyes are no longer from sadness. “Y/n, you are the love of my life and I almost lost you today. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, however long that is. So, will you marry me?”

You nod as she slips the ring on your finger, laughing in disbelief. As soon as it’s done you crash your lips into hers. The kiss is salty from tears and is broken by your smiles, but it’s perfect.

“Yes, I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it means dealing with your ridiculous overprotectiveness,” you tease and she rolls her eyes.

“You know you love it,” she tries to argue but you just laugh again.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you breathe out, and Emily is happy to be the one taking orders this time.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

CM tag list: @reidingandwriting

#emily prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #Emily prentiss x female!reader #Emily prentiss reader insert #Emily prentiss fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fic #looks

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moonknightly · 4 years ago

Text

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (four)

Word Count: 5.3k

Excerpt: “He cries and he screams and he curses every higher power he can think of until his voice is strained with the effort. He bargains, he pleads. He prays, and then he curses again.”

Warnings: Blood, violence, gun violence, cursing, meh

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

OCTOBER 20TH - DAY FOUR

The precinct is busier than usual when Santi walks in the following morning. There are twice as many people, twice as many noises, twice as many reasons for Santi to be annoyed.

So many FBI agents. So many sounds. It’s complete sensory overload.

He stops after taking only a few steps off of the elevator, shaking his head, trying his hardest to push his irritation down. He’d been livid when Cameron announced that she was no longer letting the squad work on the case, and he hadn’t been the only one to let their anger show, but if Santi is being completely honest, he knew it had been coming.

It didn’t make it any easier, though. It felt like giving up in a way, even though that was the last thing he was willing to do.

Giving up would never be an option.

And fuck, the idea that it would one day be expected of him made his blood boil.

Santi takes a couple of deep breaths. He lets his eyes fall shut for just a moment, willing himself to stay calm. He shakes his head once, twice, and then starts to move towards an empty desk Cameron was letting him use. He can hear bits and pieces of the different conversations going on around him as he walks, but he can’t bring himself to actually pay attention to what’s being said.

He plops himself down into his chair, and before he has even a moment to make himself comfortable, he feels someone come up behind him and stop just a few feet away. He twists in his chair, spinning it around to face whoever has decided to sneak up on him and was surprised to notice that it wasn’t one, but two people — both agents.

“Need something?”

Santi doesn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, and while one of the agents chuckles a little bit, the other looks rather unimpressed with his attitude.

The second one — the one wearing a glare that quickly morphs into a arrogant smirk — shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head curiously at Santi.

“Maybe.”

Yeah, he fucking hates this guy.

Santi waits for the agent to continue, but several seconds pass in silence and he can’t stop himself from slowly raising an eyebrow in question.

“Okay…” Santi mumbles, dragging out the “y”, still waiting.

“I’m Agent Barnes, and this is Agent Graves.”

Santi glances towards the other agent, Graves, who smiles gently at him and gives him a quick nod. He definitely likes this one better.

Barnes rocks back and forth on his heels, still smirking to himself as he says her name under his breath. “We’d like to talk to you about her disappearance, if that’s alright with you.”

Santi can’t help but flinch at the cold way in which Barnes says her name. He can tell the sudden movement piqued Barnes interest, but he isn’t about to explain himself, doesn’t feel the need to.

“Sure, I’d love to talk about my wife,” Santi responds, eyes narrowed and lips upturned into something that resembles a grimace.

Barnes takes a few steps forward and comes to lean against Santi’s desk while Graves stays where he’d been standing. Pope folds his arms across his chest.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Barnes asks, looking down at Santi, his eyes staying trained on his face. Santi holds his gaze, taking it like some sort of challenge almost.

He absolutely loathes the bastard.

“On the sixteenth. She stopped by after she left the hospital and I walked her downstairs.”

“And at what time was that?”

“At about eight,” Santi answers, shrugging his shoulders gently. He hadn’t been looking at the clock, he’d been looking at her.

“And why didn’t you go home with her?”

“I had a lot of paperwork and she was tired. I needed to stay and there was no reason for her to.”

Barnes nods his head once, seeming to think over the information Santi just gave him in a way that makes him roll his eyes again.

“And what time would you say you made it home that night?”

“You know, I’m starting to feel like this is an interrogation, not an interview. Look, I’ve already told all of this to-”

“It’s just a simple question.”

Santi is frustrated, because all of the times, all of the facts, they’re all written down in her file, and he’s positive that the agents had already looked through the notes.

“About fifteen minutes after midnight.”

The passive expression Barnes is sporting quickly morphs into a smirk — one that honestly makes Santi want to deck him but also makes him so sick to his stomach at the same time.

“How long does it usually take for you to get home?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take.”

“That’s funny.”

Santi furrows his eyebrows, ready to slam his hand down onto the desk and demand Barnes just get to the fucking point, but before he can even blink the agent is continuing on with his words.

“You scanned out of your office at eleven that night. Only twenty minutes home...”

No. There’s no fucking way he’s about to-

“That leaves almost an hour that you have unaccounted for.”

Santi is completely and utterly floored at what Barnes is implying. He can only stare in shock for several seconds, jaw slack, tips of his ears turning bright red as heat flooded his body.

“You think that I killed my wife.”

It isn’t a question, but rather a statement — a statement that Santi never imagined he would find himself saying. He scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief.

“We don’t-” Graves starts to say, but his partner quickly cuts him off, silencing him with a simple wave of his hand that only pisses Santi off even further.

“I didn’t say that,” Barnes says, voice lacking any distinguishable emotion.

Santi scoffs again and quickly stands, feeling like it gave him some sort of advantage even though he was several inches shorter than the other man.

“I would never do anything to hurt my wife.”

“I’m not saying that you did, but maybe,” Barnes starts, that damn smirk returning full force. “Maybe you and Nathan...”

“Okay, now you’ve gone too far,” Santi fumes, taking a step closer to Barnes, getting ready to wind his arm back so he can just-.

“Garcia,” Cameron calls out from where she’s standing, about ten feet away.

Santi hadn’t noticed her approach.

“Do you hear this bullshit? Did you hear-”

“Santiago,” she interrupts, effectively silencing him. She rarely calls him by his full name, and when she does, it was used as a form of comfort that Santi didn’t even know he needed until just now. He swallows the lump in his throat and glances towards his feet, trying to push his anger away, giving way to the shame at the fact that someone could ever think he’d hurt her.

“I wouldn’t hurt her. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Cameron places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze like she’s done so many times recently. “I know.”

Of course she knows. Santi loves her more than any person had ever loved another. She is, and always will be, his entire world, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning and his reason for breathing, and Cameron can’t understand how someone could even insinuate that he might be involved in her kidnapping. Santi has a temper and that’s no secret to anyone, but he would never, ever do something to hurt his wife, not even in the midst of the most heated argument would he imagine laying a single finger on her.

“I wouldn’t.”

Santi looks towards Cameron with such hopelessness and desperation trapped in his irises. He’s pleading with her, begging her to just believe him. He’s convinced that she agrees with Barnes.

“We all know.”

She squeezes again, and after her words have a few seconds to settle in, it seems to be enough, at least for the moment.

Santi’s shoulders seem to relax, just a fraction, and he sucks in a sharp breath. He nods his head once, solemnly so, and mumbles something that sounds like an excuse under his breath before retreating towards the locker rooms. No one follows, he doesn’t want anyone to. He just needs a few seconds to himself, a moment to push the nausea and the nerves and the worry away, even though he knows they would only return.

What Santi really needs is for this to all just be some sort of twisted, fucked up nightmare.

What Santi really needs is her.

OCTOBER 21ST — DAY FIVE

Cameron makes Santi take the rest of the day off. He tries to argue with her, giving her the same reasons he had before, but nothing seems to convince her to let him stay. Ideally, she didn’t even want him to leave Jay’s apartment the next day either, and this time, he decides to just shut up and listen.

She wants him to sleep in until noon, watch as many movies as he possibly can, call his mother back, and actually eat something more than a few bites of whatever fast food or microwavable meal he’d been forced to buy.

Normally, Santi wouldn’t complain about doing any of those things, but today is different. He needs something to focus on that will keep his mind quiet. He feels that he needs a distraction today more than any other day so far.

Because today is their two year wedding anniversary, and he is losing his mind by doing nothing.

It’s just after six p.m., and he’d woken up at five in the morning with no possible chance of getting back to sleep. The TV is turned off, and Santi has no desire to stand up and find the remote, and even if he does turn something on, he knows he won’t be able to properly focus on it. The bagel he’d made that morning is still sitting half eaten on the coffee table, and he didn’t even bother to make himself lunch.

Nothing Cameron wanted him to do came even close to being done, but Santi just can’t bring himself to do anything other than play a word game on his phone.

But he knows that he needs to call his mother back. He still hasn’t spoken to her, and she’s still calling him a few times each day, leaving message after message each time she’s met with the familiar “beep” of his voicemail. His father had started to do the same, even going as far as to send him a text message that read “If we didn’t know any better, we would think you’re missing too”. He deleted it right after opening it.

He just needs to get it over with

Santi sighs gently, closing out of his game and pulling up his contacts, scrolling until he found his mother’s name. He hits the call button, his stomach flipping as he waits.

She answers after the first ring, the worry in her voice sounding in Santi’s ears, the guilt of not answering any of her hundreds of calls suddenly weighing on his shoulders. He didn’t mean to cause her any sort of panic or grief, but what did he think ignoring her calls would do, especially in a situation like this?

“Hey Mamá,” he mumbles into the phone, voice hoarse from not having used it all day.

The relief in his mother’s voice after she hears him speak instantly makes that guilt grow into something that nearly swallows him whole, and his chest tightens as he listens to her cry in what he hoped was ease after finally hearing from him and not hurt because she just now heard from him.

About five minutes pass before the conversation moves from Santi’s apparent inability to answer his phone to what he knows his mother has been calling about, and what has been the only thing on his mind for the last five days.

“Have you found anything?”

Santi feels a lump form in his throat, and he suddenly loses the ability to speak properly. This has been his reality for the better part of a week — talking about her and thinking about her every second of every day, which really isn’t any different from normal except for the fact that it now made his heart ache rather than fill him with joy.

He briefly tells his mother what happened in Princeton and Allentown, though he assumes she’d already heard. If you turned on the news for even two minutes, you would see her name and her picture flash across the screen, accompanied by Nathan’s, which never failed to make Santi’s rage blossom all over again.

“At least I know she’s alive,” Santi mutters after a brief pause where neither of them could find the right words to say, thinking back to the picture from the other day. “The amount of blood...Mamá, I was so fuckin’ scared that she was de-”

Santi’s voice cracks, and he can’t bring himself to finish his words. Saying that he’s afraid out loud is probably the most candid he’s been since the start of it all. He still hasn’t let himself cry, not really, but the one tear that fell down his cheek is all it took for the dam to break loose.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, but he doesn’t hang up. He simply lets it fall to the couch beside him as he brings his other hand up to his mouth, covering it as a broken sob passes his lips. His mother continues to listen on the other end, and her heart shatters for her son as well as his wife. She recounts an almost silent prayer just as Santi curses God’s name, and she can’t even bring herself to chastise him for using such language. She would’ve done the same if she were feeling even half of what Santi is.

All of Santi’s emotions continue to pour out of him in a violent downfall, like a storm that held no mercy, leaving a gaping hole in his chest that threatens to swallow him whole. He cries and he screams and he curses every higher power he can think of until his voice is strained with the effort. He bargains, he pleads. He prays, and then he curses again. His mother listens the entire time.

Several minutes pass like this, and once he’s sure that there are no more tears left for him to cry, after he feels like he would pass out if he shed even one more, he picks the phone back up slowly, though he stays completely silent. After several seconds, his mother says his name gently.

“I’m here,” he mumbles, no emotion left in his voice at all.

His mother seems to be thinking about her words, choosing them carefully as to not upset him any further. “Maybe you should think about coming home for a few days.”

Santi doesn’t respond, and after another moment spent in silence, she speaks again. “You know, I just don’t think you should be alone tonight…”

“You remembered,” he grumbles quietly, his voice hardly audible.

“Of course I did Santiago, but regardless of whether it’s your anniversary or not, maybe you just-”

“You know what Mamá,” he interrupts, cutting her off. “I, uh — I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Jay just got this new video game and we were gonna order a pizza or somethin’ for dinner,” he lies, though there was absolutely nothing in his tone to give him away. “I won’t be alone, promise.”

She seems to accept his answer, and doesn’t question him any further. She even sounds slightly enthusiastic about it, saying that it sounds like the kind of distraction Santi needs. He has to physically bite his tongue in order to keep himself from scoffing.

They say their goodbyes shortly after, and Santi throws his phone onto the couch cushion beside him, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he stares at the floor for what feels like an hour when it was probably only two minutes.

He and Jay don’t have any plans.

There’s no video game, no pizza. He feels slightly bad for lying to his mother, but a larger part of him just wants to save her the worry and trouble.

He quickly stands from the couch and switches out his sweatpants for a pair of jeans, but can’t find the effort to change out of his old PT sweatshirt, the one she always stole from him. He runs his fingers through his hair, not bothering to style it. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and he’s sporting a decent beard that he knew she would love.

He grabs his wallet and the spare key Jay’d given him, picked up his phone and sent him a text, also lying to him about his location and his plans, and set out the door.

Not ten seconds pass before Jay is texting him back, telling Santi they’d caught a case and he wouldn’t be home until later that night anyways.

Santi doesn’t think twice about it, and simply shoves his phone into his pocket before heading to the subway.

Their apartment is dark when Santi arrives a half hour later. He doesn’t bother to flip on the light in the entryway, and takes a moment to just stand there, his back against the wooden door, fingers tracing each groove.

It almost feels normal, like any other day. It feels like Santi had just gotten off work for the night and he’s taking a moment to decompress before he would make his way to the bedroom, where he would find her curled up under the sheets, her head on his pillow as she waited for him to come home to her.

But she always made sure that the lamp in the living room was on for him, and she had a habit of leaving the TV running until he got in. Neither are on, and only silence and darkness and solitude surround him.

Santi kicks his shoes off by the door before pushing away from it, taking a few tentative steps into the apartment. The room is slightly illuminated from the glittering lights of Manhattan, just enough for Santi to see around the outlines and shapes of things. It’s strange — everything looks the same, smells the same, but it feels so completely different. So completely foreign.

Lifeless.

A few things are out of place, like the blanket they kept on the back of the couch, now on the floor, and the couple of books they kept stacked on the coffee table are shifted a few inches to the left. Santi folds the blanket and puts it back in its place, moves the books back, and then walks slowly into the bedroom.

The smell of her perfume instantly hits him upon entering, and he has to grip the doorframe to keep himself from stumbling backwards. He sways on his feet, and closes his eyes for just a moment, taking a deep breath to, hopefully, steady himself as he reaches to his right to flip on the light. He keeps his eyes tightly shut for another moment before slowly opening them to finally take in his surroundings.

The bedroom is far worse than the main living area. The pillows from the bed are tossed to the floor, the sheets and comforter twisted together in a knot that Santi knew he would struggle to get out. There’s a small strand of yellow police tape on the floor that Santi doesn’t understand why it’s there, as they had only blocked the front door with it. Both of their bedside drawers are still pulled open, and he can see that the bathroom light is still on.

The bathroom.

Santi moves without intending to do so, and he feels his feet carry him towards their ensuite almost as if he’s on autopilot. He reaches the threshold in just a few short seconds, and at first, his brain doesn’t exactly process what he’s seeing, doesn’t fully make the connection and he only stands there, confused and bewildered.

No one’s been by to clean up yet, and blood still covers every surface Santi chooses to set his eyes on, only now, it’s dry, and more brown than it is red. The shower curtain had been taken away by the crime scene techs, as had the bathmat and the various hand towels that had been covered in crimson. Santi is almost positive that there isn’t as much glass on the floor as there had been before, which made sense — the techs would have taken some of it as well. But the floor and the walls and the counter...it looks like the kind of murder scene one would see in a grotesque horror film.

There’s even a handprint on the side of the tub that Santi knows belonged to himself. He’d used the tub to hold himself up, to keep himself from collapsing further after falling to his knees. He looks towards the cabinet under the sink to find a second handprint, right where he knew it would be. He had caught himself there, too.

He stands in the doorway for what must have been five minutes at least, staring at the blood and the glass and the wreckage, and he feels absolutely nothing. If anything, he feels completely and utterly numb to it all. Part of him can’t believe that what he’s looking at is real, and the other part won’t allow his brain to connect the dots.

He knows it’s her blood, in their cozy little apartment in Manhattan, and yet, he still feels like he’s standing in the middle of any old crime scene, where any old victim had been murdered by their enraged boyfriend. He’d seen it so many times before, back when he was a detective. It doesn’t seem any different now.

He tries to make sense of it in his head, tries to use sound logic and the knowledge of what he’d learned in his psychology classes throughout college to figure out why he’s feeling the way that he is, but nothing made sense. He just feels so entirely disconnected.

Another few minutes pass before Santi is finally able to turn his gaze away from the carnage. A small bout of nausea hits his stomach, but he chooses to ignore it. He’s learned that if he doesn’t pay attention to it, the less likely he is to lose what little his stomach holds at any given time. He wipes a stray tear away from his cheek, one he wouldn’t have noticed if the cool air from the vent hadn’t hit his face, and steps away from the bathroom.

His next destination is the closet. Nothing in there has been touched or moved to his knowledge, and for some reason, he feels comfort in that. He sighs gently and grabs an empty bag from the corner. This time, he’s more careful when choosing what clothes he would bring with him, because he has no plans on returning to the apartment anytime soon, not without a stack of moving boxes and a U-Haul at the very least. He decides right then and there that he’s breaking the lease early and finding somewhere else to move immediately. Just having the apartment in his name makes his skin crawl and he wants out, wants nothing to do with it. And not only that, but as well as he knows his wife, he knows that if-

When they find her, she won’t want to be anywhere near the apartment.

But he also knows that there’s a part of her that will want to keep it just to prove a point, to show that she’s more than what had been done to her, and the thought of that makes him smile just a tiny bit.

“Stubborn ass,” he mumbles under his breath, a small, sad chuckle following just after.

He needs to get out of there.

Santiago gathers all of the clothes he figures he’ll need and turns to leave the closet when his eyes catch a familiar flash of gray, just like they had five nights before.

Nevada is still where Santi had dropped him, just lying on the floor, forgotten. She would’ve been so upset had she seen him just tossed aside like that, and that thought also causes Santi to grin to himself. She loves that damn wolf more than anything, would often swear that she loves him more than she loves Santi but he’s always thought it was so adorable how attached she was to the stuffed animal that he doesn’t even mind. She’d always treated Nevada as if he were a living, breathing thing.

He walks over to him, gently kneeling down to take him into his hands, his smile growing slightly as he feels the matted “fur” against his fingertips.

Santi slowly flips Nevada over, finding that her rings are still shoved onto the tail, just like they had been before. At first, he didn’t think that he would find them there, and he can’t exactly explain to himself why. He gently pulls them off, letting the cool metal settle in the palm of his hand.

All he can do is stare at them for several seconds, and it feels as if a rock settles and grows in the pit of his stomach the longer he he holds them. He closes his fist around the two rings, mumbling something that sounds like a promise — a promise that he’ll find her, and that he’ll bring her justice no matter the outcome — before shoving them into the pocket of his jeans.

He glances at his own wedding band for a moment, sitting on his ring finger, the silver glistening in the light, just like it had every single day since they said “I do”.

Two whole years to the day.

He’d planned to take her away for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. It was supposed to be special, romantic, just the two of them alone in Boston without a care in the world. He’d had it planned for months now.

Does she know what day it is, wherever she is? Does she remember, or even realize how many days have passed?

Fuck that. Santi hates himself for even wondering, because it made him feel so completely selfish.

And he hates himself even more when he reaches to slide his wedding band off of his finger.

He failed her, he doesn’t deserve to wear it. He doesn’t deserve to call himself her husband.

When-

If they find her — which also makes Santi hate himself, because he’s beginning to pay attention to the numbers and the statistics and he’s starting to look at it as a recovery instead of a rescue — will she even want to still be married to him?

Will she still love him? Or will she hate him for letting this happen to her?

He slowly drops his hand, leaving the band on his ring finger. He’s sure he’ll never be able to take it off. Even if he never sees her again, he was sure the band will remain on his finger until he’s rotting in the ground (like he deserved, but he pushed the thought away, not wanting to wallow in his own self loathing).

He will always be her husband, unless she explicitly tells him that it’s no longer what she wants.

Santi shakes his head and tries to turn his brain off. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He shoves Nevada into his bag, zips it close, and makes his way out towards the foyer. He turns off every light in the apartment before leaving, locking the door behind him without looking back once. He can’t stand to be in there any longer, not liking where his mind is headed while standing in the middle of all that had once been theirs.

He arrives back at Jay’s shortly after, expecting him to still be gone on whatever case he’d been talking about, surprised when he finds the other detective standing in the middle of the living room. It looks as if he’d been pacing, his hands on his hips and a blank expression on his face that Santi can’t read.

“What’s up?” Santi asks, throwing his bag onto the floor by the door, deciding he would worry about finding a spot to put it away later.

Jay stays silent for close to a minute, seeming to be lost in thought before he finally speaks, voice low and eyes looking everywhere but at Santi. His tone sounds cold yet so full of emotion at the same time.

“Nathan emailed you a video tonight. Your account is being monitored and we intercepted it before you could see it.”

Santi’s blood runs cold, and he feels frozen in place. He wants to ask Jay what it is, but he can’t make himself speak, doesn’t remember how to use his voice. Instead, he just swallows the lump that had formed in his throat and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

It takes Jay several seconds to speak again, and when he finally does, Santi is sure that he would’ve preferred for him to just stay fucking quiet.

“Santi, Nathan shot her.”

Jay has tears in his eyes, and Santi still can’t move. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t fucking move move. Can’t speak, can’t think, can’t process the other man’s words. He can’t do anything.

“They’re working on tracing the email but we...the FBI said they have enough reason to believe that she’s-”

Jay can’t bring himself to finish his sentence, but Santi understands. He understands perfectly, though he wished he didn’t.

Nathan shot her, and they have enough reason to believe it was fatal.

But it doesn’t sit right with Santiago.

Something about it feels off, feels wrong. He was sure he would’ve felt something in his gut, like people say they do in books and movies when someone they care about is hurt or in trouble. But then again, he hadn’t felt anything out of the ordinary when she had been taken. But if she had been killed, he was almost certain he would have felt something — some instinct in the back of his mind, anything.

“She’s not,” Santi snaps, voice hard with emotion though it broke on the last word at the same time. “She’s not dead.”

“Santi,” Jay chastises sternly, exasperation evident in his voice.

“She’s not dead.”

“You didn’t see the video!” Jay yells, sliding his hand down his face as the pain and anger takes over his entire body. “You didn’t see it and you should be thankful that you didn’t have to.”

It’s obvious that what Jay had seen in the video traumatized him, and was enough to make him think for himself that she’s dead, but Santi just can’t accept it. He doesn’t know if it’s the denial talking, or if what he’s feeling is actually real, but after repeating himself for a third time, he feels the world come crashing down around him, he feels everything stop.

Santi’s knees give out, and he crumples, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Jay catches him before he can hit the floor.

Everything is black.

Santi’s heart, his world — it’s nothing but black.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic

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ssahotchhner · 4 years ago

Text

hunter, hunted

i should not be so excited about this but i just discovered that when you copy and paste text into a new post tumblr FINALLY allows italics and bolded fonts to be transferred over so I don't have to remember to go through it and do it myself again i could literally CRY rn. ANYWAY I thought it would be fun to write a oneshot like the Profiler, Profiled where Morgan is accused of murder. i created an oc for this one and I hope you love April I've spent a lot of time with her the last couple of weeks (:

words: 13.4k

pairing: hotch x oc

warnings: detailed descriptions of murder and torture and sexual assault

questions comments concerns

“Where’s the weapon, April?”

It was almost laughable. A federal agent handcuffed in an interrogation room being questioned for murder in her small town while visiting a childhood friend. She shakes her head at the detective, laughing. “I carry a gun on me at all times because, as I said, I’m a federal agent. You have it in your possession already. If you want to test it to see if I’ve fired it recently, be my guest. You won’t find anything.”

“You’re right, we won’t find anything because Brandon Perry died from blunt force trauma to the head. So I’ll ask you again, where is the weapon?”

This time, April does laugh. Of course he wasn’t shot. That would be too easy. “You know what, Detective Barnes, if you hadn’t kicked my hotel door down in the middle of the night, handcuffed me and dragged me in here, I may have cooperated with the investigation, but here we are. So I’ll tell you again: my Unit Chief is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I won’t be answering any more questions until I can speak with him.”

The middle aged man glares at her until finally getting up and leaving her alone in the interrogation room. She rested her head on the table and hoped that maybe that stupid motherfucker would listen to her this time.

***

“Hunter has been detained in Bar Harbor, Maine.” Hotch tells the team in the conference room.

JJ frowns, “Isn’t that her hometown? Why has she been arrested?”

“For murder.” Hotch says. Before the team can react, he pulls up a picture of Brandon Perry’s body, “Brandon Perry was found yesterday by a fisherman just off the docks a week after he was released from prison on parole. He had been bludgeoned to death with some sort of blunt object, the M.E. suggests a baseball bat.”

“And why do they think April did this?” Spencer asks.

Hotch clicks a button and a picture of a couple brutally murdered in their bed, a little boy who’s throat had been slashed, and a little girl with brown hair and bright green eyes, alive and well filled the screen, “Because he was serving time for the murders of Addison, Jacob, and Timothy Hunter. April’s family.”

Everyone stares at the monitor in shock, “Her whole family was murdered when she was a kid… and she never mentioned it to us?” Penelope asks, her lower lip trembling.

“April was left relatively unharmed, but she had been sexually assaulted by the assailant. She said he was tall, but he had on a ski mask so she was never able to give solid identification.” Hotch finishes.

“So how’d they connect these murders to Brandon Perry?” Rossi asks.

“He was connected to a couple other home invasions and assaults nearby so he entered a plea deal. The local police were under a lot of pressure to close the case.”

“Breaking into homes to murdering almost an entire family is a big escalation.” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “I thought so too.”

“April was just a kid,” Prentiss says, “And to go through a trauma like that, I’m sure she believed whatever the police fed her. And to see him be released from prison like that… I hate to say it, but it could have been the trigger.”

Penelope’s shaking her head, “No, no, you guys don’t really think April did this, do you?”

Everyone’s silent for a moment and then Morgan speaks, “Baby girl, if she’s innocent, we’ll prove it. But we can’t rule out the possibility that she did this just yet.”

“I know April hasn’t been here that long,” Garcia says, “But she is still a part of this family. You can all treat her like an unsub, but I won’t.” She finishes and marches out of the conference room.

Aaron sighs, “Wheels up in thirty.” He says resolutely before leaving the room.

***

Hotch walked into the police station, the team at his back and was greeted by a man about April’s age who introduced himself as Detective Fielder. “Detective, I’d like to speak to my agent.” Hotch demanded after shaking the man’s hand.

The man shrugged, “Sorry, sir. My partner’s in there with her. She’s stubborn as hell. I went to school with her, you know it’s a shame the way her family died but… must’ve knocked a screw loose or somethin’. She ain’t ever been the same.”

Aaron thought it over, killers had made their way into the bureau before. Not like this, though. Not under the nose of his whole team. April kept to herself, but she had joined this team less than a year ago, it would be overwhelming for anyone. “You misunderstand, detective. It wasn’t a request. Bring me to my agent.”

Reluctantly, the younger detective brought Hotch to the back of the station where he could already hear another man, older by the sounds of it, screaming at April.

She was staring back at him, her posture relaxed, looking more annoyed than anything. Hotch walked in and she relaxed further, only then letting on that she had been putting on a show of being unbothered for the detective, “Thank God.” April sighs, “I thought maybe they didn’t call you.”

“Are you alright?” He asks her first, unable to explain why hearing another man scream at you had made his blood boil.

“I’m fine,” She says and directs her attention back to the older detective, “Detective Barnes won’t even get me a water, though.”

“Detective Fielder, get April some water.” Hotch demands. He can feel the two men exchange a look behind him before the younger detective leaves the room. “Detective Barnes, uncuff my agent.”

“You can’t let her go, you don’t have jurisdiction here.” He growls.

“I’m not suggesting you let her go, but even if you’re right she committed a one off crime of revenge. She’s not a threat to anyone here. Uncuff her.” The detective glared at April who only smirked at him. “Now, detective.” Aaron said, firmer this time.

With a look of disgust on his face, the detective uncuffed a smiling April as detective Fielder came back in the room with a cup of water. “Thank you, Billy.” April said as the detective placed the cup in front of her. He ignored her completely.

“I’d like to speak to her alone.”

“Like Hell.” Detective Barnes spat.

“With all due respect, detective, it doesn’t appear that you’ve gotten much out of her. You’re welcome to watch through the window, but I will be questioning her. Clear the room.” They stared at each other for another few moments before the detectives both left the room. Hotch turned back to April whose entire demeanor changed. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and slouching over the table as she rubbed at her wrists where the cuffs had been. The antagonizing behavior Hotch had just witnessed her exhibit completely vanished.

“You don’t help when you antagonize them like that.” Hotch says.

She shrugs, “The men in this town don’t like a woman who thinks she’s his equal. They never liked my attitude. They like it even less now that I outrank them. Either I act like the superior I am, even in cuffs, or they force me into submission.”

He sits down at the table across from her, “Why didn’t you tell me about your family? It wasn’t in your file.”

“Strauss knew.” April says, immediately defensive. She hadn’t lied, the bureau knew.

“But you didn’t want me or the team knowing, why?” She doesn’t answer him, just stares at her hands. “April, I can’t help you if I don’t know.” He says gently.

Finally she looks up and sighs, “When I was twelve my entire family was brutalized and murdered in front of me, but not before the unsub raped me in front of my parents. And I didn’t react the way the people of this town wanted me to. I was twelve and I was covered in semen when he left. So I showered before calling 911. I didn’t cry even once in front of anyone and I never spoke about what happened to anyone, not even the police. Only enough to tell them that I had no idea what he looked like, but I thought he was white.” Her eyes water just slightly and she doesn’t meet his eyes, “For the six years after the murders that I stayed in this town, I know a lot of people thought I did it. That I was some kind of psychopath. So no, I didn’t want it in my file.”

“You thought maybe we’d arrive at the same decision the town did.” Hotch opens the case file, “But you were never tried or even considered a real suspect. There was no physical evidence.”

She smiles sadly, “No physical evidence means nothing to a small town who’s rarely ever seen a scandal, and certainly nothing like this.”

He stares at her for a moment, “And so when Brandon Perry was released from jail, you thought he hadn’t suffered nearly enough so you came back up here and killed him.” April laughs and Hotch can see he’s made her feel antagonistic again, “This isn’t funny, April, you’re a suspect in a homicide.”

“No, Hotch, you don’t understand. It’s funny because I don’t even believe Brandon Perry killed my family and I haven’t believed that for a long long time. Which is why it would make no goddamn sense for me to kill him.”

“That’s bullshit!” The door bursts open and detective Barnes walks in.

“Detective--” Hotch stands as if to shield her and April nearly frowns at how protective he seems to be of her right now. She had seen him this way around the rest of the team, but never her.

“You told Detective Fielder when you were fifteen that you would kill that son of bitch yourself if he ever got out of jail.”

Hotch looks at April with a bit of annoyance, he hated when others had more information than him and from the second he walked in here she kept hiding things from him, not telling him the whole truth.

She lazily rolls her eyes and stares at Billy, “I was fifteen. I was angry. He cooperated with the police so he had the opportunity to get parole after fifteen years? Get his life back after I thought he had ruined mine? Yeah, I said some stupid shit, I think any kid would have.”

“When did you start to doubt that Brandon Perry had killed your family?” Hotch asks, but she’s still shooting daggers at the other detectives, “Agent, eyes here.” He says roughly, growing impatient with her.

Her eyes snap to his, “I used to lurk on support pages for people whose loved ones had been murdered and I remember seeing that this girl described… Almost exactly what had happened to my family, but she said it happened while Brandon was on trial here. She lived a couple towns over.”

“So what did you do?”

She shrugs, “Nothing, I was seventeen, I didn’t have any resources there was nothing I could do.”

Hotch sits down across from her again, leaning over the table so he’s closer to her, “You really expect me to believe, with the conviction you just said Brandon is innocent, that you didn’t look into this further?” She stays quiet and won’t meet his eyes, “I can have Garcia search your desk and computer if you’d rather do this that way.”

She leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not a fucking criminal.”

“Then tell me what you know.” Hotch says, voice raised.

“Fine! I started volunteering at the police station so I could get access to files. I was good with the digital databases, but no one else was so they basically gave me free reign. I was able to find three similar cases, all within a couple years of each other but in different cities. One of them, he crossed into New Hampshire. All of the local police departments either arrested someone like Brandon or dismissed it as a one off crime and let it go cold. The files are in my desk drawer at the BAU.”

“You carried them with you all this time?”

She picks at the cuticles around her thumb, something Hotch noticed weeks ago she does when she’s nervous. “I thought… I thought about asking you guys to just look at the case a million times. See if you saw what I saw. And if you didn’t then maybe I could finally move on.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

Her eyes dart around the room, to the detectives, the one way window, and then back to Hotch, “You guys, the team, you all have… This unbreakable bond and I… I barely just got here and I thought if I’d asked…” She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, “I just… I didn’t think you’d care.”

“The whole team flew out here at the drop of hat for you and you think we wouldn’t care?”

She frowns, “The whole team is here?”

“Yes.��

April sits back in her chair, looking dazed.

“Detectives, you’ll be releasing Agent Hunter from your custody now and since we have reason to believe there’s a serial killer loose and across state lines, we’ll be staying on the case.”

“You don’t really believe anything she’s saying, do you? She’s a psychopath!” Detective Barnes fumed.

Hotch stands and steps to the detective who immediately takes a step back after noticing Hotch’s menacing stance, “She is a federal agent and is no longer a suspect, you have no physical evidence and you just lost motive. You will speak to her with respect and if you don’t think you can handle that I’ll contact your superintendent and have you removed from the case. Is that clear?”

The detective stood back and out of their way, April looking at the ground so Hotch wouldn’t have to yell at her for antagonizing them again.

“What’s the history with you and Billy?” Hotch asks as they walk out of the room.

April rolls her eyes, “He was my high school boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Hotch muses, “You can do better.”

Before she can figure out if he was joking or not, the team realizes she’s walking of her own free will and they seem to all release the tension in their bodies. JJ walks to April first, pulling her into a hug before she can react.

April slowly raises her arms to hug JJ back, “I wish you had told us sooner.” Is all she says.

“I’m sorry you guys came all the way out here.” April addresses the team when JJ moves away from her.

“That’s okay, Hunter, we’re just glad to see you aren’t a murderer.” Morgan teases.

“We might actually be staying here for a while after all.” Hotch says.

Prentiss frowns, “Is there a case here?”

April opens and closes her mouth, “I-- Maybe.”

“Why don’t you call Garcia, ask her to get those files to everyone.” Hotch says to her quietly.

April nods and walks off.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Rossi asks.

Hotch pushes his hands in his pockets, “The reason we were able to clear Hunter is because she has no motive. She doesn’t believe Brandon Perry killed her family and she hasn’t since she was a teenager.” He pauses, “She thinks the murders may be the work of a serial killer. She found three additional cases nearby, one crosses over to New Hampshire, that she believes are the work of the same unsub.”

Prentiss slowly nods, “And you want us to see if that’s true or not.”

Hotch nods, “I’m sure April would really appreciate our support.”

Everyone on the team is already nodding when April comes back, “So, as Penelope might say… Avengers assemble?” She asks hopefully.

Thankfully, they all laugh and nod, even Hotch cracks a smile, “Great.” April sighs in relief, “Let’s go to the conference room.”

With Garcia on a laptop screen, April tells them everything she knows, which admittedly, isn’t much. However, there are overwhelming similarities between the cases.

“Every family he chose was wife, husband, two kids. The eldest was the daughter all between the ages of 11-13 and in each case the daughter was raped and kept alive.” April was speaking as if she wasn’t speaking about herself and Hotch would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him. “In each case the parents were brutally tortured with a knife, forced to watch the rape and then killed with a fatal gunshot to the head. The boy was always killed first and it was always quick.”

“A mercy kill?” Reid muses.

April sighs, “I’ve never been able to figure that part out. It’s obvious he gets off on the rape and torture of the parents and daughter, but why not leave the boy alive the way he always leaves the daughter if it’s out of mercy?”

“It could be he thinks he’s sparing the boy the pain and trauma of having to go through the after effects of watching his parents and sister tortured.” Prentiss says.

“When all is said and done the daughter suffers the most psychologically.” Hotch says, “She could be the real target, maybe a surrogate for someone he knew.”

At this point, Hotch notices the way April is staring at the table, eyes unfocused, “Hunter,” Her eyes shoot up, “You must be exhausted, let me drive you back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”

“Hotch, I’m fine, I want to help.”

“No,” He says and she frowns, “If the daughter is the true target we’re going to have to dive deeper into victimology. Why he chose you. You don’t want to be here for that.”

Everyone’s quiet and deliberately looks away from April. She sighs, “Fine, but I’m coming back first thing in the morning.” She stands and walks out of the conference room without waiting for Hotch.

“Garcia, see what you can find about April’s childhood as well as the other victims and let us know if there’s any similarities.” Hotch says.

“It feels icky, but I’ll do it.” Garcia responds.

“I’ll be back.” Hotch addresses the rest of the team before heading after April.

They ride in silence for a few minutes, Hotch glancing over to the passenger seat every few seconds. “Whatever you want to say just say it.” April says, growing tired of the constant glances.

“You don’t have to keep working on this case like it’s any other case--”

“It’s not just any other case.”

“I know,” He says gently, “I’m worried about you. I know you bottle things up, showing emotion to other people makes you feel vulnerable, which in turn makes you feel weak. And I worry that the way you’re bottling up your rage is going to lead to you taking it out on--”

“I didn’t kill Brandon.” She says.

“I know you didn’t. But if we do find the real killer, I can’t let you come with us into the field until he’s been taken into custody.”

“Hotch--”

“It’s not up for discussion. I’m sorry.”

She sat back in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest and they continue on in silence for a while longer. “Do you think our unsub is also responsible for Brandon’s death?” Hotch felt guilty about upsetting her and thought maybe getting her brain back into work mode would stop her from giving him the silent treatment.

For a few moments he thinks she might continue to ignore him, but finally, she sighs, “It’s possible. If we think he gets off on the suffering of the daughters, he might be upset that I thought he had been caught. That I felt safe knowing he was behind bars. Killing Brandon after he was released could have been a message to me that he’s still out there and obviously following me.”

“You don’t feel safe anymore.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It was implied.” Hotch pauses, “I can stay at the hotel with you, work with the team remotely from the room next to yours.”

He expects her to refuse, but instead she agrees. “Okay.” She says quietly. This only worries him more as she is typically unlikely to accept help unless he insists upon it.

They walk up to the hotel room in silence and Hotch stands behind her as she unlocks her door, “Hey,” He says softly and she turns, “Anything you need, anything at all, I’ll be right there.” He nods his head to the door next to them.

“Thank you.” She says, giving him a small smile before pushing the hotel door open and then quickly closing it behind her.

He stands there for a moment, staring at the space she was just standing in before sighing and going to his own room.

“How is she doing?” Rossi asks when he calls the team from his room to let them know he’ll be staying there.

“She won’t admit it, but she’s scared. She thinks he might be following her and that Brandon Perry was a message to her that he’s still out there.”

“That would make sense if we think the girls are the real targets.” Prentiss chimes in.

Hotch stays on the phone with them a little while longer before they all decide to head back to the hotel. He stares at the wall that separates him from April and tries to get his mind to quiet enough to rest. He’s right here. Nothing will hurt her if he’s right here. He thought about how just last week Rossi had teased him for catching him staring at April. He had nearly convinced Aaron to ask her out. But she was so distant and hard to read and he didn’t want to chance rejection. Eventually, he closes his eyes and drifts off, an image of you smiling at him on the backs of his eyelids.

***

April was exhausted, but she stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Small noises that she never thought twice about now startled her. Hotch is next door. She reminded herself. She thought about the comment he made about Billy: You could do better. Had he been… Flirting? Aaron Hotchner… Flirting? It felt absurd. Shaking the thought out of her head, she got up and poured herself some water from the Brita in the mini fridge. Finally, after drinking the water, she’s able to fall asleep.

The breeze against her face wakes her. Slowly blinking her eyes into consciousness, she notices the balcony doors are open. Those were closed when I fell asleep, She thinks to herself and shoots up in bed, scrambling for her gun as her heart races. April considers yelling to Hotch, but if he’s still here she doesn’t want to scare him off.

On the wall at the foot of her bed reads “Welcome Home” in what looks like blood. Under it sits her favorite childhood teddy bear, head ripped clean off. She tightens her grip on the gun in order to stop the shaking and then glances around the room, but there’s nothing. Then she slowly opens the bathroom door. Pointing her gun at the shower, the curtain moves. She doesn’t hesitate she fires off four rounds, breathing hard. She doesn’t hear a body fall. Reaching out she pushes the curtain, but no one’s there.

Seconds later, Hotch is calling her name, but he doesn’t wait for a response before kicking down the door. “Hunter?” He calls again and she thinks she might hear fear in his voice. Fear for her?

“I’m in the bathroom. You can put down your gun, it’s clear.” He appears behind her a moment later, still staring at the shower, “I thought he was still in here.”

She walks around him and back out to where he left the message, “He came in through the balcony, I— I thought I locked it…” She trails off, looking at the glass of water on the table and realizing she can’t remember when she fell asleep.

“What is it?” Hotch asks.

“He was in here before. I think he drugged my water.”

He narrows his eyes at her, “We should go to the hospital then, I’ll have the team come here and treat this as a crime scene.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m fine—“

“We don’t know what he gave you or how much, besides, having you tested will tell us what he used faster than sending a sample of the water to Quantico.”

“Fine.” She agrees begrudgingly, he was right. She walks over to her bag of clothes and it’s only at this moment that she realizes she had worn only an oversized t-shirt to bed and Hotch was making a valiant effort not to stare at her legs.

“I’ll, um, I have to get dressed as well.” He says hurriedly, gesturing to the pajama pants he’s wearing. He leaves before she can say anything else. Under normal circumstances, April’s sure this would have made her laugh, but that teddy bear seems to be staring her down. She gets dressed and leaves the room without another glance.

***

April stares out the window of the SUV in silence while Hotch calls Rossi to fill him in on what happened so the rest of the team can start assessing her hotel room. When he hangs up, she feels his eyes darting between her and the road again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly.

She’s quiet for a moment and then she takes a shaky breath, “That teddy bear went missing from my room a couple weeks before the murders. It was my favorite.” She swipes impatiently at the tears that start falling, “I blamed Timmy for it, we fought about it for hours. He felt so bad that I was mad at him he used his birthday money to buy me another one. I really thought he took it.” She tilts her head back in the headrest, trying desperately to stop the impending sobs.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but he reaches across the car to hold her hand. To her own surprise, she lets him, the calluses on his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back of her hand.

***

“What do you have, Garcia?” Hotch steps out of your examination room for a moment to accept the call.

“How is she?” Penelope asks first.

“She’s… shaken up. But, like everyone else on this team does an excellent job of seeming unaffected.”

She sighs, “My poor wonder woman. Anyway, I think I found the connection between all the daughters.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it turns out that our April was a very talented child. Her parents took her to talent shows regularly, she was voted ‘Most Likely To Make It To Hollywood’ in her middle school yearbook.”

Hotch frowns and looks back at April, “We’re talking about the same federal agent, right?”

“I know, sir, not much surprises me anymore, but this did. There’s videos of her singing all over the internet, she was on the local news, quite the young star.”

“And the other victims?”

“All singers, sir. Every last one.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

He walks back into April’s room, “You used to be a singer.” He says.

She rolls her eyes, “So?”

“So all the other daughters were singers too.” She sets her jaw and won’t meet his eyes. She’s not surprised by this information. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You didn’t think it was relevant that there was a connection between all of the victims?”

She sighs and she feels shame at his obvious disappointment, “I’m sorry. I’ve worked really hard to block it out, sometimes I honestly forget.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

She bites her lip and looks down at her hands, picking at the cuticles around her thumb again, “He made me sing while… While he raped me.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No. I swear.”

He stares at her for moment and she knows he’s trying to see if she’s lying. It makes her angry at him, but also at herself. Maybe Hotch had never been as fond of her as the others, but he had never distrusted her. Just another thing the unsub had taken from her. “What song did he make you sing?”

The question is so painful to think about that she visibly flinches, “Do you really need to know that?”

“You know I do.” He says softly.

She looks away from him again, back to the cuticle on her thumb that she’s made bleed, “Like A Virgin by Madonna.”

He places his hand over hers again and she finds it almost alarming the way his touch seems to immediately calm her. “April, we won’t stop until we find him. I promise.”

She gives him a teary smile, “Will you stay with me?”

He smiles back at her, giving her a hand a slight squeeze and his smile takes her breath away, “I’ll be glued to your side until this case is over.”

***

A couple hours later they had found out that there was a classic date rape drug in April’s system: Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, or GHB. The drug is usually prescribed for narcolepsy, but it was most often obtained illegally from Mexican pharmacies which they assumed was how the unsub got it.

“I’m bringing you back to the police station so you can stay with me and the team like I promised, but you don’t have to keep working the case.” Hotch says as he drives.

“Funny that you think you can stop me from working the case.”

He smirks a bit and brings his attention back to the road.

“What do you guys have for a profile so far?” He looks over at her, frowning. “What? I know you guys have been working while I’ve been reliving my trauma so what’ve you got?”

“White male, when he murdered your family he was probably in his twenties so now we’re guessing mid thirties to early forties. The torture is consistent with a sadist. Killing an entire family is an incredibly high risk crime which suggests he’s a narcissist, but also very organized. He’s able to control four people at once without much difficulty and he’s never left a shred of physical evidence behind except on the daughters. This means he’s arrogant and--” Hotch cuts himself off.

“What?”

“You said you showered before calling 911. Why?”

“I… I told you he left… He left his semen all over me, I was just a kid, I wanted a shower--”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. Yes, you were traumatized, but every kid has it hardwired in their brain that as soon as something bad happens the first thing they do is call 911.”

“Okay, well I didn’t.”

He presses some buttons on the console of the car and then Garcia’s voice is coming through the speaker, “At your service, sir.”

“Garcia, in any of the family murders, was there a rape kit done on any of the daughters?”

“Well, surely there must have been-- Oh. No, no rape kits, not on any of them.”

“Does a police report tell you why?”

“I’m checking… and…” There’s a sigh from Penelope.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“All of them showered before calling 911.”

April is already shaking her head, “No, no that can’t be right.”

“Did any of them report why they showered before calling for help?”

“Most of them, like April, just reported that they felt icky and needed to shower, but the first one, the very first victim Katie Yates, she reported that the unsub made her shower. Like, held her at gunpoint, marched her to the bathroom, and watched. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was, he left while she was still in the shower.”

“That’s not what happened,” April says quietly, her eyes closed.

“Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch says and hangs up the phone before she can respond, “April--”

“No.” She says fiercely, “I’m telling you that’s not what happened.”

“Every other aspect of the crime is controlled and calculated, he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving DNA all over his victims--”

“I would remember that if he did--”

“No,” Hotch says gently. He had pulled into the police station now, putting the car in park, “No, because you didn’t want to remember. Just that one memory, that one you wanted so badly to believe was your own. That he wasn’t there for the shower. But he was, wasn’t he?”

“Please stop.” She said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere and he puts his hand over hers, “Look at me.” She doesn’t obey immediately so he reaches up to grip her chin and gently turn her face to his. Her eyes are shining and her breathing is uneven, but his eyes are soft and she has the absurd urge to rest her forehead against his. “He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

She nods and swallows. “I need you to walk me through exactly what happened after the rape.” He continues. Her lip trembles, but she nods again. “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Hotch--” She whimpers.

“I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time. You know how this goes. Close your eyes.” She takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “Good. He’s on top of you still. He’s just finished. Tell me what you feel, what you hear.”

“Um. I’m crying. I can hear my parents crying. His weight on me is making it hard to breathe.” She starts panicking, her breathing quickens.

“April, focus. He’s not here. You’re safe. What about your hands, what are you touching?”

“The carpet. I’m on the floor in the basement.”

“Can you see your parents?”

“Yes,” She gulps, “But I’m trying not to look at them. It’s humiliating.”

“Okay. Now what is he doing?”

“He… He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear ‘Thank you for the show’ and then he stands up.” Her breathing quickens, “He’s walking to my parents, I don’t want to watch, he’s going to kill them, Hotch--!”

“Okay, okay, come back. Open your eyes. I’m here.” His hands come up to cradle her face. She should be startled by her boss touching her like this, but she’s oddly comforted.

Her breathing finally slows, “I’m tired.” She says softly.

“I know. We’re almost done. Close your eyes again, you can do this.” His hands stay on her face as she closes her eyes again, “Okay. Your parents are dead. What does he do now?”

“Uh, I’m screaming. He’s looking at me and laughing and then he grabs my arm and pulls me up from the floor. I struggle and he puts the gun to my head and says if I don’t calm down he’ll blow out my brains like he did my parents. And then… He walks me up the stairs to the bathroom…” Her breathing becomes rapid again, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes you can.” Hotch’s voice is low and soothing. He believes in you, she thinks to herself, if he thinks you can do this, you can.

“He turns on the shower. I’m already naked and once I’m in the shower he starts undressing.” Silent tears stream down her cheeks and she’s distantly aware of Hotch gently wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. “He comes in the shower. He’s touching me. I’m begging him to stop. Oh, God.”

“April, stay there. He’s undressed, he’s taken the mask off, do you recognize him?”

She’s shaking her head, “I can’t… I can’t look.”

“The water’s hitting your skin, his hands are on you--”

“Stop.”

“Look up, April.”

Despite herself, she listens. She’s in that shower, significantly smaller than she is now, and she looks up to see blue eyes looking down at her. Shaggy brown hair nearly covers them, especially now that it’s wet. He has a smirk on his face and crooked front teeth. There’s a tattoo on his right arm of a cross.

“Okay, okay that’s enough, you did it.” Hotch’s voice pulls her back out and she becomes aware of the car that’s still around them and the fact that she’s sobbing. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You did so good.” She falls forward in his arms and after a moment of hesitation he wraps his arms around her, holding her until her breathing settles. It takes him a moment to realize that anyone could look in the SUV and find him in a seemingly compromising position with his subordinate and he pulls away. To his shock, she seems to look disappointed. “You ready to go inside?”

“Yeah.” She says and without another word, she gets out of the car. Hotch can’t deny that he feels like he’s done something wrong as he watches April walk into the station.

When April walks in the station, her whole team cranes their heads to watch her, but she heads straight for the coffee without looking at anyone. Hotch files in soon after.

“Is she okay?” Reid asks, the rest of the team waits for his answer.

“I just gave her a cognitive interview, I’m sure she’s upset.”

“Did you learn anything?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” Hotch nods, “She remembers what he looks like and she identified a tattoo on his right arm.”

“We should have Garcia run that, see if we can get an ID.” Morgan says.

“Call a sketch artist as well.” Hotch looks up at where April was standing just a few moments ago to see her gone, “Excuse me.”

***

April’s hands shake so hard as she tries to pour the coffee she ends up putting it down in frustration. “Need some help?” She turns to see Billy, standing there smirking at her.

Sighing, she stands back and gestures for him to go ahead. He steps in to pour the coffee, “Pretty elaborate ruse you got going on, staging a break in at your hotel room with that teddy bear.”

She stares at him in disbelief, “You still think I did this?”

“I think,” He says, handing her a cup of coffee, “That you’re impulsive and you went to confront Brandon and you didn’t mean to kill him, but you did and now this is all to cover everything up.”

“Oh,” She scoffs and starts walking away from him, “You are delusional and a dick.”

He follows April into another room and closes the door behind them, “Open the door.” She says when she realizes she’s shut in.

“You and your stupid FBI team are making this whole police force look bad, you need to drop the investigation.”

“The cases cross state lines, we have jurisdiction.”

“Yeah, you would have jurisdiction if there was a real case, but there isn’t. You’re a pathological liar and you can’t even see it. Brandon Perry murdered your family and raped you and just can’t let it go.”

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” She walks around him to the door, but he turns quickly and places his palm against the door, slamming it shut again. “Let me out.” She says slowly.

“I’ll let you out when you promise me that you’re going to march out there and tell them that you’ve been lying this whole time and then march your pretty ass back to D.C.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll arrest you for the murder of Brandon Perry.”

“You have no evidence.”

“Oh, April, April, April. I know you know what a coerced confession is here. And I also know that you know a jury of your peers here in Maine would send you to prison for less.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door and Billy finally steps away. When she opens it, Hotch is on the other side, “Everything okay in here?”

“Just fine, Agent Hotchner. Isn’t that right April?” Billy says and grabs a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger and tugging, exactly like he used to when he sat behind her in middle school.

April slaps her hand on his wrist and twists his arm around until he yells. “You lay a hand on me or threaten me again, I will make sure you don’t have a career here anymore. Understood?”

“You can’t--” He starts, but she twists his arm further.

“Am I clear?” She says again.

“Alright, fine!”

She shoves him away and he stumbles, nearly falling to the floor as April storms out, Hotch still standing in the doorway, watching Billy.

“I told you,” Billy says, pushing himself to standing, “She’s a crazy bitch.”

“Detective, let me make myself very clear. If you continue to harass my agent or impede on this investigation in any way, not only will I make sure you never have a career in law enforcement again, I will arrest you for obstructing a federal investigation.”

Billy shakes his head, “She’s got you all wrapped around her finger.”

“And I think your boss has you wrapped around his finger. He’s the one who arrested Brandon Perry. Seems like he would have a lot more to lose if he was wrong than you would.”

“He wasn’t wrong.”

“Then let us conduct the investigation. If it leads back to Brandon Perry, then so be it.”

“You really think she’d accept that?”

“If the evidence led us there, she would. Now stay out of our investigation if you value your job.” Hotch leaves without giving him time to respond and then tries to find April.

“Are you alright?” He asks when he finds her. She’s sitting alone at a conference table.

“I’m fine, Billy’s just an asshole.”

“There’s more to your relationship than you told me to begin with.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“You said you came up here to visit a friend. Who were you visiting?”

“I’m tired of being interrogated--”

“The reason Billy is so sure you killed Brandon Perry is because you were with him that night and then you left suddenly, isn’t it?”

April sighs and looks down at the table, “Hotch, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help, but who I was with and what I was doing that night doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t kill Brandon so please just drop it.”

He shakes his head and he looks almost frustrated with April, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he care so much about her relationship with Billy? “I don’t understand why you would waste your time on a cop like that, look at what a mess it put you in.”

She frowns, “With all due respect, sir, it’s really not your business who I’m sleeping with.”

“Why did you leave that night if you didn’t kill Brandon?”

She scoffs, “I can’t believe this.”

“Answer the question.”

She was angry with him. Practically bursting at the seams with rage. Just like every other man, thinking he’s entitled to everything about her. They all disappointed her in the end. “Billy and I had a fight and I wanted to be alone.”

“What was the fight about?”

“He wanted to be an official couple again. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

She tilts her head to the side, “Just because I’m a good fuck doesn’t mean he gets to claim me. Like you said, he’s just a stupid cop and I could do better. Now will you leave me alone?”

April recognized that look in his eyes: He was jealous. Aaron Hotchner was jealous that she had a sexual relationship with another man. And suddenly her anger evaporated and was replaced by desire. She supposed she did always have a thing for older men which she was sure a profiler would say had to do with her dead dad. Either way, she sent a smoldering glare his way until he left her alone.

When he left, she rested her head on the table in exhaustion and didn’t notice Emily had approached until she heard the seat in front of her being pulled out. She raises her head and manages a smile, “Hi.”

“How are you doing?” She asks.

“Better now that you’re here, I’m tired of all the men around here.”

She laughs, “Good. Well, the sketch artist is here and I’m sad to report that he is a man.” April groans. “But, I will stay with you if you want and then I think we’re all going to work through the night, but Hotch was talking about bringing you back to the hotel to get some rest. It sounds like you had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Cognitive interviews are the worst.”

As promised, Emily sits with her while she talks to the sketch artist and Hotch walks over not long after. When it’s finished, Emily gives your hand a squeeze and leaves with the sketch to pin to the evidence board.

“You should get some rest, I’ll take you back to the hotel now.” Hotch says, hands in his pockets. It was intriguing to her that he could act like he didn’t just ask about her sex life only an hour ago.

“I can’t sleep in that room again.”

“You can sleep in mine. I’ll sleep on the floor,” He adds quickly upon seeing the look on her face.

She sighs, “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, just don’t touch me.”

“Won’t be a problem.” And with the indifference in his tone, she thought maybe she had actually imagined everything earlier.

“Great.” She murmurs and gets up to walk out first.

Hotch stays behind for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and Rossi comes up behind him, “You picked a terrible time to start giving her hints about the way you feel, Aaron.”

“We’re trying to solve a case about her family’s murder and all I can think about is how pissed off it makes me to know that she’s been sleeping with someone else.”

“You’re human.”

Hotch just shakes his head and walks away.

***

“Daddy driving you home?”

The voice behind April makes her jump, her hand flying automatically to her gun.

“Woah, it’s just me April.” Billy laughs, leaning up against the station building, “You really are on edge, lately, huh? A sign of guilt or genuine fear?”

She could strangle him right here, she thinks. But instead, she reigns in her temper and leans against the wall next to him, “What about your daddy, huh? Haven’t seen him here all day. Is he too busy making wrongful arrests?”

Billy scoffs, “Yeah, and how’s your stupid little profile going? Did you find the real killer yet?”

She sighs, “You cops are all the same, think your old fashioned police work is better than profiling.”

Billy looks like he’s about to respond, but Hotch walks through the door just then, “There’s daddy, you better hurry up and get in the car like a good girl.”

Hotch barely registers what Billy’s said before April launches herself at him, fists flying. He immediately reacts, grabbing her arms, “Hunter, hey, hey! That’s enough! Get in the car.” He says sternly.

She shakes him off, but walks to the car all the same.

“Fucking bitch.” Billy mutters, drawing Hotch’s attention back to him.

“Detective, I thought I made myself clear that you were to stay away from my agent and out of my case.”

Billy steps up, eye to eye with Hotch, “This is my station, agent. Back off.”

Hotch stares him down for a few more moments, “The superintendent will be hearing from me tomorrow, at the very least you’ll be getting suspended. Maybe now’s a good time for you to clean out your desk.” And then he turns and walks back to the SUV, ignoring Billy’s curses behind him.

Once Hotch is in the SUV and starts driving away, he starts talking to April, “When you’re out in the field you represent me, you represent the team, and the whole bureau. You can’t just--”

“I don’t need a lecture right now.”

He’s surprised to hear tears in her voice and it softens him immediately, “April, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you today.”

“You’ve only done what you need to do to solve the case, you shouldn’t apologize.”

“No, no, I… I shouldn’t have questioned you about Billy earlier. You were right, it’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine.” She says. First indifference, now an apology. Maybe she really had imagined everything. “I just want to sleep.”

***

Hotch works for a while by the light of the lamp when you get into bed, poring over the case files again and again, trying to figure out if they had missed anything. He’s pretty sure April is actually sleeping and once he’s sure he can’t get any more work done, he turns off the lamp and gets ready for bed.

He slips in the bed as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake her, but there’s the smallest moan that escapes her lips when the mattress shifts. A moment later, she turns over, still in sleep and slings her arm over his chest, sighing contentedly as she rests her head on his chest. Hotch freezes, unsure of how to react before slowly wrapping his arms around her in return. Her shampoo smells like peaches and vanilla and he breathes it in deeply knowing in the morning she’ll pretend this never happened.

***

When April wakes up and finds herself in Hotch’s arms, legs tangled under the sheets, she does her best not to panic. With the way they were positioned, it was clear she had initiated this which was all the more embarrassing. Lucky for her though, she doesn’t have to figure out her next move because his phone rings. She pretends to be asleep as he slowly comes to wakefulness and reaches for his phone.

“Hotchner.” His voice is husky from sleep and it sends a thrill through her and she imagines for a moment what it would be like if Aaron Hotchner was hers. Then she hears Billy’s voice in her head calling him her daddy and the moment sours.

“Okay.” He says after a few moments, “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He ends the call and sets the phone back on the nightstand, but to her surprise, he doesn’t immediately wake her. “Are you awake?” He whispers after a few moments and she tries not to balk.

“Mmm.” Is all she manages and she keeps her eyes closed, not sure she can meet his eyes like this.

“They’ve, um… Another family was killed last night.” He tries to say it as gently as possible, but she shoots up in bed anyway, “The daughter was killed as well this time.”

She’s shaking her head, “No… No, that can’t be. She has to… She can’t be dead.”

“It’s probably a message to you.” Hotch says calmly.

She scoffs, “That’s great. A whole family’s dead because of me.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Oh, like hell it isn’t.” She says, climbing out of bed and pulling on her jeans. She doesn’t fully realize who she’s getting dressed in front of until Hotch tries to subtly avert his eyes. “I should’ve solved this case years ago. I’ve known it was serial for a while. I could have saved them.”

“You know as well as I do that thinking like that isn’t helpful for anyone.” He says, following her lead and getting dressed in front of her. The fact that they’re both acting like nothing out of the ordinary has taken place between them makes everything somehow even more intimate.

She sighs, “Let’s just get over there.” And she walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

***

April can feel the bile rising in her throat as her team mills around the crime scene. She’s crouched next to the girl, Layla, whose throat had been slit. She had also been stabbed too many times to be counted by the naked eye. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, but April could see the fear there. He had left her here, in front of her parents’ bodies, naked. “He went through the entire ritual, even the shower, then brought her back down here and killed her.”

“He’s always been very controlled and organized, but this last kill is full of rage.” Prentiss notices.

April frowns as she looks at Layla’s throat and notices that it almost seems to be bulging, “I think there’s something in her throat.” She pulls on her latex gloves while everyone crowds around her and then gently prys the girl’s jaw open. Reaching in, her fingers brush what feels like crumpled paper at the back of her throat and April pulls it out. Heart racing, she smooths it open.

Welcome home, April. I’d like to see the woman I’ve created. Arrive alone at the place where we first met, 20:00.

Everyone was silent as April read the note over and over after reading it aloud the first time. The word “alone” had been underlined several times. There was no threat attached to it, but April knew it was one all the same.

“We’ll have to call SWAT and let them know, we’ll also have to prepare the local police--”

“No.” April cut off Hotch, “You can’t be serious, he said to come alone.”

“April, his end game is clearly to kill you, if you go there by yourself you won’t come back out. And I already told you you’re not allowed to handle the arrest.”

“This is our one shot to get him,” Her eyes water, “This family died because of me--”

“Hunter--”

“Stop.” The tears fall down her cheeks and he wants to brush them away like he had the day before. “I won’t let this happen again, I’m going to see him by myself.”

“At least go in with a wire, we’ll stay a safe distance away.” Morgan bargained.

She shifts her attention to Morgan, to her team who are all looking at her sadly. Concern dripping heavy from their limbs. “No SWAT.” She insists, “Just this team.”

Hotch sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

She wasn’t, but she nods anyway.

“Fine.” Is all he says before walking away.

***

Aaron is conscious of her eyes on him as he helps her put the wire on, “You steer the conversation away from yourself when you’re in there. Don’t let your guard down for a second. He’s going to try to get in your head, blame you for what he’s done. Don’t let him, just feed his ego and then call us when you’ve got him. Okay?”

“Yeah.” She says quietly.

He finishes putting the wire on and leans away from her in the surveillance van, “I can go in with you.” He says, giving it one last shot.

“No.”

He nods resolutely, “Promise me you’ll walk out of there alive.” She avoids meeting his eyes, “April.”

Finally she locks her eyes to his, “I’m scared.” She says, and her voice shakes.

It’s the first time he’s heard her admit it. He’d known she felt it, but she’d never admitted it. “Listen to me.” He says firmly, “You are not the twelve year old girl he knew. You’re stronger than him. You can do this.”

She takes a deep breath and nods, moving around him to exit the van.

“Be careful.” He says one last time and he thinks maybe she’s aware of just how worried he is about her, his eyes full of concern.

She gives him a small smile before turning away and walking down the street, rounding the last block to her childhood home, the house she hadn’t entered again since the murders. The town was small and since everyone knew what had happened there, it had never been sold.

April stands just outside the house for a minute, hand hovering just above her gun, trying to get both hands to stop shaking. Hotch believes in you. She reminds herself, recalling his words in the van. She can do this.

She’d been avoiding thinking about all his touches in the last few days. The way his rough, callused fingers felt so gentle on her face when she cried. The way he’d wrapped his arms around her in sleep, almost protectively. The way when he woke to answer his phone this morning he had absently stroked her shoulder. Did they mean anything to him or was he just an overworked, touch starved man, desperate for any sort of attention, even from her.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she headed for the door, raising her gun as she approached. The door was already slightly ajar and she pushed it lightly with the pads of her fingers. Carefully, she cleared each room, heart ricocheting against her rib cage, though she already knew where he’d be waiting for her.

After they had found the last family, Garcia had been able to ID the killer based on the sketch and the tattoo as Allen Grey. He had the usual tough past, abusive father and mother, grew up in poverty. His parents died when he was still young and his older sister was left to take care of him, and she then continued the cycle of abuse, escalating to sexual assault. It explained the mercy for the young boys and torture of the eldest daughters, but April couldn’t bring herself to feel sympathy for him.

She stood at the top of the basement stairs, could already see the lights on down there and could hear Madonna’s Like a Virgin playing on vinyl. April hated the way her body reacted, the way everything in her was telling her to run. She was a federal agent for Christ’s sake, she took down killers like this one all the time. He was no different, she tried to assure herself, he was just like the rest. And then she steeled herself, brought her gun back up in front of her at eye level, and began descending the stairs.

“There you are! Welcome home, April!” Allen says cheerfully as you point the gun at him, “Now, now, come on, I don’t have a weapon,” He raises his hands, “Why don’t you holster that gun, Agent Hunter.” He had an arrogant smirk on his face.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her finger flexed on and off the trigger, wanting so bad to just pull it and be done with it. But she knew her team was listening and this was exactly why Hotch hadn’t wanted her in the field for this. She lowered her weapon and put it back in her holster.

“That’s better. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the worn out table and chairs, “Let’s have a drink. Talk.”

She swallowed thickly, “No thank you.” She managed.

“No, come on now, April. We have to catch up!”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He smiles at her again and comes closer to her. Slowly, he pulls a knife out of his pocket and brings it up for her to see. She balks, but he quickly grabs her from the back of her neck to keep her steady and runs the knife gently over her face. “You were always so clever, April.” She keeps eye contact with him, doing her best not to show any fear. “So pretty and smart. I only followed you, after, you know? You were… number two, I believe. I chased the high I got with you with everyone after, but none of them were the same.”

“Is that why you stopped for a while after the fourth family?”

He nods, “Like I said, you were always so smart. And then I saw how you became obsessed with people like me, went to college to study criminal justice, always thinking about me. Joined the FBI because you were so obsessed with me, weren’t you, little April?”

She wanted to spit in his face, but she remembered what Hotch said about feeding into his ego, “They say you never forget your first.” She says cooly, almost seductively.

It works, an arrogant smile twists its way up his face and he pockets the knife. “All I ever wanted was to find you,” She says, slipping into character, “See those blue eyes again. I dream about them every night.” None of these statements are lies, but the tone she takes when delivering them, the sweetness she adds to it, the act she puts on makes bile rise in her own throat.

“I knew it.” He says, looking at her with newfound desire, “We’re soulmates, you know?” His words are gentle, but he grips her by the hair again and pulls, exposing her neck. “Let’s run away together, baby.”

“Okay.” She says softly, “I’m ready.”

Hotch is already ordering the team to go in, jumping out of the back of the van with Morgan. Through his earpiece, he listens closely to you. He can hear your fear in the way you’re breathing, but he’s not sure Allen is picking it up from you.

When she agrees to go with him, he spins her and shoves her against a wall, her head painfully bouncing off the cement. He laughs as she winces and then leans in to kiss her throat, “Are you going to tell your team to leave us alone?” He reaches under her shirt where the wire is and yanks it off her. “April, April, April. My clever, clever girl. You had to know I would have expected you not to come by yourself.”

He pushes himself off her and walks to the table, reaching under it and pulling out a gun that he had taped there earlier.

April’s jaw tenses as he raises the gun to point it at her head, “You won’t kill me.” She says smoothly, though she’s not sure she believes it herself.

“No,” He cocks the gun and turns slightly to aim towards the doorway, “But if Aaron Hotchner walks through that doorway I’ll kill him.”

She does her best to betray nothing, but a muscle in her jaw jumps involuntarily and he narrows his eyes at her, “Yeah, I thought you liked him.”

“I care about everyone on my team.” She says stiffly.

He shakes his head, “No. Don’t forget April, I’ve been watching you. I know your weaknesses as I’m sure you know mine and the past few days here I’ve noticed the way you look at Agent Hotchner when you think he’s not looking. But he always notices because he’s always aware of you, even when he tries his hardest not to be. So, April, I’ll give you one chance,” He hands the wire back over to her, “Tell Aaron to back off.”

Reluctantly, she takes the wire from him. “Hotch,” She breathes, “Stand down.”

Hotch holds a hand up to the team on the outside, signaling them to stand down, though he can barely hear past the roaring in his ears.

“There,” Her voice comes in his earpiece again, “Are you happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when he hears me kill you and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

“I thought we were running away together.”

“You think I can’t tell when you’re playing me?”

“No, I know you can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Something in April had unlocked when Allen threatened Hotch. Threatened her team. And she knew Hotch could hear them and though she had told him to stand down, he was trying to figure out another way to get to her. He wouldn’t stop until she was out of there, whether it ended with both her and Allen in body bags or Allen in cuffs. But she wouldn’t let it come to that.

“Since you’ve been watching me my whole life, you know the entire town thought I killed my own family and that I lied about the whole thing. Do you know why they thought that? Because they saw in me what my team sees in people like you.” She walks up to him, and though every instinct screams to run, she instead places a hand on his chest, “That night… you made me into you. So no, Allen,” It’s the first time she uses his name and she relishes the shock that lights in his eyes, “You can’t tell when I’m playing you.” Capitalizing on his surprise, she disarms him the way Morgan has drilled into her over and over, quickly slamming his wrist into the nearest surface and catching the gun when he releases his grip. Faster, she takes a step back from him and draws her gun as well, now pointing two weapons at him, “And I think you’ve overplayed your hand, babe.”

He raises his hands and now there’s genuine fear in his eyes, “April--”

“I’d like you to very slowly remove the knife from your pocket and toss it to the floor and if you even think about launching it at me, just know that I am a very good shot and I have been dreaming about killing you every day since I was twelve, don’t tempt me.” Her voice shakes, but this time not from fear, but from anger that she’d harbored close to her chest since the man who stood in front of her stole everything from her.

As Allen slowly does as he’s told, April hears footsteps on the stairs and is relieved when she spots another gun trained on Allen in her peripheral. Morgan begins to walk to Allen, but April stops him, “No.” She says, “I want to do it.”

He nods and redraws his gun, backing away. She holsters her own weapon and hands Allen’s gun back to Hotch without looking at him. Drawing cuffs from her pocket, she walks behind Allen who has managed to get a smirk back on his face. The sight breaks something in her and she roughly shoves him against the wall, feeling satisfaction at his grunt of pain when his face collides with the cement. She tightens the cuffs a bit more than necessary and begins stating his rights to him as she marches him up the stairs.

“I’m going to be a legend, you know? They’ll make all these dateline documentaries about me and the families I’ve killed.” He’s smiling still as April shoves him in the backseat of Billy’s police car. She’s trying not to think about the fact that he showed up here.

“Prisoners don’t look too fondly on those among them who kill and rape children, Allen, and I’m going to make sure that whatever cell block you rot in knows exactly what you’ve done. Have a nice life.” And she slams the car door.

Billy’s watching her as she does so, “I’m sorry.” He says simply.

April sighs, “I don’t care.” She says without looking at him and then walks away.

Hotch is watching her, arms crossed and frowning deeply. She stops in front of him, tilting her head to the side and noticing the concern written all over his face as he sizes her up, “Thank you for backing off when I asked you to. I know that was hard for you.”

He simply pushes himself off the car that he was leaning against and pulls her to his chest. She feels surprised for a moment, but then wraps her arms around his waist in return, breathing him in, focusing on his touch rather than Allen’s. And when the sobs begin to wrack her body, he just holds her tighter. He knows the rest of the team is watching and maybe he’ll have to explain this later, the way he rests his head on top of hers to reassure himself as much as her, but he doesn’t much care. He’d been fairly certain she was going to die in there and he’d never have the chance to tell her how he really felt.

Hotch drives back to the hotel with her sleeping in the passenger seat. The medics had checked her out and concluded that she didn’t really have any injuries, but his heart had nearly shattered in his chest when April asked if there was any way they could refill her sleeping medication. They had been unable to, but decided to give her a few doses of ambien anyway, to last her until she could call her prescriber back in DC.

“You can take as much time off as you need when we get back.” He had said as they climbed in the SUV, his too big FBI jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she immediately popped the ambien in her mouth.

“I don’t need to take time off.” Was all she said before she curled herself in a tiny ball, facing the car door, and fell asleep only minutes later.

Now, he pulled into the hotel parking lot, rain falling gently against the windows and debated whether he should wake her. “April.” He said softly, gently shaking her shoulder.

“Mmm.” She murmurs and her eyes flutter. Still straddling the line between sleep and wakefulness, seeing Hotch’s face above hers prompts a small smile. “Aaron.” She says softly and reaches her hand up to touch his face.

Hearing her use his first name so tenderly sends a jolt through him, but he reminds himself that she’s sedated, albeit lightly, from the ambien. “Do you think you can walk up to the hotel room?”

She nods sleepily and he quickly gets out of the car to help her out of the other side, pulling the hood of his jacket over her head to shield her from the rain. She walks slowly because of the drug, but he doesn’t mind. And when she slides her hand down to his to intertwine their fingers, he doesn’t mind that either. When they get to the hotel room she wordlessly strips down to her underwear and climbs into bed.

He stares at her for a while, unsure if she would want him in the bed or not, and decides it’ll be safest to sleep on the couch. He begins taking some cushions off the couch when he hears her voice, “Aaron?” There was his name again. He wasn’t sure why hearing her say it had him coming undone, but he wanted her to repeat it over and over again.

“Yes?”

“Why won’t you come to bed?”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple times before responding, “I was going to sleep on the couch.” She’s quiet for too long and he thinks she must’ve fallen asleep so he turns back to the couch.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” Her voice is so quiet, he wonders if he imagined it. But when he turns back to the bed, she’s watching him, eyes full of sadness and what he thinks might also be desire. He can’t say no to her. She continues watching him as he takes off his clothes, first unbuttoning his shirt. She watches him carefully, no traces of shyness and he tries his best not to let on the way her attention affects him. He undoes his belt buckle and then pulls off his pants before walking to the bed, pushing the sheets aside, and climbing in.

She turns to him and brings their faces close enough that just another inch would have them rubbing noses together. “Why have you been so nice to me this whole case?”

It’s not what he was expecting her to say and he frowns, “It was a tough case for you that brought back a lot of trauma, why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

She shrugs, “I know you’ve never liked me the way you like the rest of the team--”

“That’s not true--”

“Aaron.” He wonders if maybe she’s caught on to the way saying his name affects him as his mouth closes immediately, “I’m not stupid, I haven’t been here nearly as long as the others and I certainly never open myself up in front of them the way the rest of you do. It’s not anyone’s fault, I’m just… Not a part of the family. But this case… You treated me the way you would treat Reid, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss… Any of them. Why?”

“The second you join this team you’re a part of this family and I’m sorry we made you feel otherwise.”

She rolls her eyes and turns her head to look at the ceiling, “Would you have shared a bed with any of them?”

Heat floods his face and he’s glad she’s not looking at him. “No.” He says and he’s sure his voice, thick with desire has betrayed him.

But April only nods, still staring at the ceiling, “Is it just because you’re lonely?”

It’s then that he realizes what she’s getting at. He hears the vulnerability in her voice, the fear there. She thinks she’s not good enough for him and it breaks his heart even further. “April, look at me.” She manages to turn her head to him and her eyes are glassy. “You have shown the last few days how incredibly resilient, intelligent, and just amazing you are. You can’t really think that the only reason I keep reaching for you is because I’m lonely.”

She smiles sadly, “You wouldn’t be the first.”

A lesser man would’ve taken this personally, perhaps groan about how she could think so little of him, but Aaron was different. He understood what she’d been through, that he could have been Superman himself and she’d still have her doubts.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to prove it to you.”

She turns her head back to him and frowns, a trace of amusement on her face, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Hesitantly, he reaches out and strokes a thumb across her cheek, “I’d like to start by just holding you tonight, if that’s alright.”

She closes her eyes at his touch, nuzzling her face further into his palm and he melts. “I’d like that.” She says softly.

So he gently wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him. Her little sigh of contentment as she settles against his chest is almost too much for him to take. “Aaron?” She says after he's spent a few moments just listening to her heartbeat.

“Hm?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever felt truly safe around.”

He feels her sadness then and he tightens his grip around her to convey that he’s sorry she feels that way, but he’s grateful for her trust. They fall asleep like that and neither attempt to move away from the other the entire night.

***

“So this is a date.” It had been about two months since they had gotten back from Maine and Aaron had been nothing but a gentleman to her. So much so, in fact, that at some points she thought he was no longer interested in her.

He chuckles, “It’s not a date. We’re meeting the team.”

“Yes, but you’re taking me,” April grins, linking her arm through his as they walk towards the bar, “So it’s a date.”

“If it was a date I would’ve done this--” Hotch spins her in front of him and abruptly kisses her. At first, she freezes, but when he gently nips at her bottom lip she moans slightly, kissing him back. As sudden as it began, it ends and Aaron is staring at her with a look of such arrogant satisfaction she wants to slap him.

“Okay, so it is a date.” She murmurs quietly as Aaron steps around her and walks away, “I knew it.”

When Aaron opens the door to the bar for her, he casually slips his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. He notes her questioning look from the corner of his eye, but just squeezes her hand in response. And instead of detaching herself from him when the team notes their arrival, she squeezes his hand in return, even when the relentless teasing from the team commences.

Aaron only slips away from her to go get them drinks and even then she looks back for him. It’s the most unsure of herself he’s ever seen her and it only broadens his grin.

“You finally did it, eh? Attaboy, Aaron.” Rossi’s already at the bar, a whiskey in hand and another on the bar that he slides to Aaron. He takes it and then orders April a gin and tonic.

“It’s just one date, Rossi. She’s still… hesitant.”

“She doesn’t look hesitant,” Rossi says, looking over his shoulder, “She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked away from her.”

Aaron smirks, “Yes, well, I’ve discovered playing hard to get is very effective with her.” He tips the bartender and clinks his glass with Rossi before walking back over to April. When he hands her the drink, she seems to shrink into his side, taking larger gulps of her drink than he thought she should.

“Slow down,” He plucks the drink from her hand and places it on a nearby table, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Look at all of them just staring at us, I feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what, being with me?”

“Aaron, no,” She places a hand on his arm, sensing the insecurity rising in him, “I want to be with you.”

“Then what?”

She shrugs and reaches for her drink again, but Aaron covers her hand before she can, clearly expecting an answer from her. She sighs and looks up at him, “I feel pressure to be perfect because I can see on their faces how much they love you and I don’t want to fuck this up and then you all hate me because I wasn’t good enough for you.” It all comes out in a rush and she feels breathless after admitting it, her cheeks reddening as he lifts his hand, allowing her to reach for her drink.

“April, they like you just as much as they like me.” She rolls her eyes and he reaches out to tip her chin up gently with his fingers, “You could never mess this up.”

“I messed it up with Billy.”

He drops his hand, unable to hide the annoyance and jealousy on his face at the mention of Billy, “Billy was an immature boy who didn’t know how to treat you anyway.”

She smirks, “And you’re a big strong man who can sweep me off my feet at a moment’s notice?” He manages the smallest of smiles as a slow song starts playing, “Come on, Hotchner. Ask me to dance.”

“You want to dance in front of the team?”

“Well you brought me here to show me off, didn’t you?” He gives her a look like he’s offended she would even think so and she laughs, “Please?” She pouts, “Billy would dance with me if he were here.” She adds teasingly, her eyes glittering with mischief.

Hotch shakes his head at her, but he’s grinning, “You love causing trouble, don’t you?” And she laughs in response as he takes her hand and pulls her to the dance floor, letting his left hand rest gently on the small of her back, his other hand holding hers.

He twirls her around the room and with the whole team watching, he kisses her as the song ends. Their lips worked together to teach each other their own dance and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, until the rest of the team starts jeering and April pulls away, her face flushed. Aaron is still looking at her, smiling and she reaches up with her thumb to swipe at his mouth, “I got some lipstick on you.” She says quietly.

“Can I take you home?” He says finally and his voice is husky and full of want.

She wonders if he’s aware of how alluring the sound of his voice is. “Yeah.” She responds swallowing.

He leads her out of the bar after much protesting from the rest of the team, but all he wants and needs is to get April, April who’s smiling at him from ear to ear, home and in bed with him. They settle into their new relationship with ease, the team noting that they’d never seen either of them smile so much and all of April’s fears and insecurities melted away day by day.

As long as her unit chief quietly placed a coffee on her desk every morning with a sweet note attached to it, she figured she could overcome anything.

#mine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x oc #hotch angst #hotch fluff #hotch imagine

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