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dontsh0vethesun · 6 months ago

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and she’ll tease you

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smut; teasing, office sex, boot riding, finger sucking, oral fixation kinda, dom!emily, mommy kink, degradation, praise, lowkey hand kink icl i was thinking about them and salivating from all my lips

a/n: title from the song ‘bette davis eyes’ by kim carnes - this is from a request !! wc: 1.7k

Emily seemed to have woken up on whichever side of the bed makes you walk the path of torment. She, of course, was the devilish one in this scenario, and you were merely the one she was so determined to tease.

You’d woken up in the older woman’s bed, an occurrence not so uncommon, with the soft pad of her fingertip trailing over your arm and the light smile on her lips being the first thing to greet you.

Her lips grazed yours with her murmur of ‘good morning’, and in your sleepy haze you returned it as best you could. And, despite the briefness of the kiss, your breath halted just as it always does. She pulled away much too soon for your liking, rising from where she lay with a smug glance at you over her shoulder.

In spite of the way your eyes were fighting against tiredness, you couldn’t keep them away from the muscles of her bare back, the inward curve of her waist when she stretched her arms above her head and the perfect view of her naked body when she sauntered away into the bathroom.

She’d let you stay in the duvet-covered comfort for a little bit longer, leaving you to blink yourself into as much of an alert state as you can before work. You were still savouring that last bit of comfort when you heard the water shut off mere moments before she came back out to you.

Her flirtatious disposition she’d decided to emphasise was in full swing, sauntering to her wardrobe in her underwear, droplets of water still sitting in the contours of her back. Her eyes didn’t shy away from you when she’d pulled the covers from your body, leaning over to ghost a peck over your lips whilst luring you from the mattress.

And the drive to work left little respite; her hand crept daringly high where it rested on your thigh, a teasing move rather risky this early in the morning. Especially on the way to work. Unbeknownst to you, however, that was her plan entirely. Emily adores you when you’re worked up - when she can tell you’re thinking of nothing but her.

Her hopes for the day couldn’t have worked out more flawlessly; she was blessed with a case-free day, just paperwork and a couple of meetings to occupy her time. So she had plenty of time to fit in some playful torment.

She watched out of the window of her office at you working at your desk, taking part in conversations here and there. She waited until you went for your mid-morning coffee to make her move, making sure to approach you with the sleeves of her shirt rolled up in the way she knows you like.

Your eyes glazed over her forearms as soon as they came into view, and your cheeks warmed at the smirk she regarded you with.

“Want one?” you asked her with a gesture towards your mug, instantly reaching for another at her nod.

The quiet between you was palpable yet comfortable whilst you waited for the coffee to brew; you shuddered at the fingertips she dragged across your back, tracing lines up to your neck and along your collarbone.

She nudged beneath your chin, guiding you to face her - so close you could feel the heat of her breath.

“You working hard?” she smiled, eyeing your lips and the way your neck twitched with your swallow.

“Mhm,” you nodded, watching the way her tongue swiped along her bottom lip with a movement so slow and deliberate it made your heartbeat quicken.

“Always a good girl for me,” she breathed, almost daring to let her lips brush against yours yet pulling away before letting you give in. With that, she left, coffee in hand and a wink to you over her shoulder with the swaying of her hips fogging your mind.

She’s playfully scolded you before for picking up your personal phone when you’re meant to be working, but when you saw the screen light up with her name, you swiped it open.

‘I miss you in here’, she’d typed.

Before you’d finished a reply, another message came through, a photo of her shirt partially unbuttoned; the black lace of her bra poked into view, and her necklace sat against the line of her collarbone, dipping into the space between her breasts. You glanced at her office door despite knowing there’d be nothing to see, you just hoped nobody caught sight of your antsy state, fidgeting in your chair.

Emily knows the effect she has on you - how her hands so often capture your attention. She catches you following their movements when she talks, the way her knuckles strain with her grip on the steering wheel. The next photo that popped up confirmed your suspicions of her hellish behaviour, the teasing and flirting, the sly touches at any moment she was near.

A photo of her hand, fingers splayed on her thigh. The svelte digits served as a reminder of her constant hold on you, the ease with which she can have you yearning for her attention in one calculated decision. You could only think of her touch, the one she’d graced you with only last night.

You stood from your chair with a huff, feeling pathetically desperate for the attention of your lover; your back felt hot, your stomach twinged with need, and the ache between your thighs only grew at the idea of her.

You didn’t bother to knock and just let yourself into her office with the door clicking shut behind you and an instant pout mirroring her smirk.

“Can I help you?” she spoke, leaning back in her chair behind her desk, legs spread with confidence. She oozes power and she knows it, it drips like honey from her skin.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you frowned, still feeling hot beneath the collar of your shirt despite your frustration with the woman.

“Doing what?”

“This,” you gestured towards her seated form and the cocky look on her face. “The teasing, the messages - all day.”

“Aw, has it made you desperate?” she mocked, beckoning you towards her with a crook of her finger. She used the same hand to grab your hip, keeping you firmly in your place with a bashful heat in your cheeks as she peered up at you. “Are you needy, baby, hm? Have you been getting worked up just thinking about your mommy?”

You whimpered at the way she cupped your clothed cunt, she felt the radiating heat and the subtle twitching of your hips and laughed beneath her breath.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

You hardly ever consider going against her command, and right now, with the pulsing ache in your core, you obey it right away. You didn’t mind so much the pathetic way you knelt at her feet when you were sinking into a haze of submission. A deep-rooted and visceral desire and need to relieve the buzzing feeling flowing through you.

“Tell me what you want,” Emily muttered with her voice deep and quiet.

“I want you.”

“Tell me like you mean it, baby. Beg for me, or I’ll leave you whining like the little mess you are.”

“Please, mommy,” you murmured. “Please, I need you. I need you so much; it’s all I can think about.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she practically cooed, nudging your legs apart before pushing the toe of her black leather boot against you. “C’mon, be a good little slut and get yourself off.”

With a thick swallow and a glance towards her office door, you pushed yourself down onto her; the idea that someone could interrupt made you flush in a pleasurable apprehension. The thrill of it all spurred you on.

The seam of your jeans hit against your wanting clit with each thrust of your hips against her boot, and you choked back a moan at the feeling. The way your girlfriend watched you intently made you eager to please, urging yourself to chase after the high you desperately needed.

“You’ve gotta keep quiet, sweet girl,” she uttered, poking at your lips with her fingers before pushing them past. You latched around the digits that hooked over your teeth, gently biting into them to keep yourself quiet, sucking them into your mouth with pleasure. Emily just sat back and watched, filling your mouth while you humped the boot she sporadically pressed hard against you.

Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you could feel how soaked you were with each stimulating push of your clit. Your hands held onto her thighs for a semblance of balance on your shaking knees, and you felt the heat of your orgasm creep higher and higher.

“God, you’re such a needy thing,” she mused. “And when anyone could walk in,” she tutted. “Do you want them to see how desperate you get for your mommy, hm? How much of a little whore you really are?”

You shook your head with an incoherent mumble around her fingers, but truly, in this moment, you couldn’t care much less.

“I wouldn’t dare to let them see,” she added, stroking her thumb softly over your cheek. “Nobody gets to see you like this apart from me - I love watching you fall apart too much to share it.”

With each word breathed and each snap of your hips you teetered on the edge of release, staring up at her with eyes pleading a silent question. And, when she nodded with a glimpse of a smile, you let your actions grow hurried in a quick capture of your orgasm. Her eyes were dark and blown, lips parted as she watched you.

It took little more for you to cum, biting into her skin with a roughness she didn’t mind and a moan at the back of your throat that she muffled. Whilst your heart was still pounding and your cunt still reeling from your high, she pulled your lips to hers with fervour, leaning down to catch each heavy breath you let out.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you when we get home,” she rasped against your jaw, cupping the back of your neck in her palm.

“How am I meant to focus on my work now?”

“Mm, I dunno,” she smirked, shrugging as she leaned back in her chair, and you stood up shakily. “Think about how good the reward’ll be if you keep on being so well-behaved.”

“Yes, Chief,” you teased, smiling at the blush she always sports at the title. “I’ll see you later.”

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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webdollzz · 5 months ago

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characters & fandoms avaliable! ⋆₊˚⊹

Click here to view...↓

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Call Of Duty.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish.

Captain John Price.

Valeria Garza.

Special mentions.

König.

Keegan Russ.

Spiderman: Into/Across The Spiderverse.

Hobart 'Hobie' Brown.

Miles Morales (1610).

Miles 'Prowler' Morales (42).

Miguel O'hara.

Gwen Stacy.

Aaron Davis (1610).

Aaron Davis (42).

Harry Potter.

(please note, all nonfancast are hbp and up!)

Harry Potter.

Ron Weasley.

Hermione Granger.

Blaise Zabbini.

Draco Malfoy.

Theodore Nott.

Mattheo Riddle.

Tom Riddle.

Pansy Parkinson.

Criminal Minds.

Aaron Hotchner.

Spencer Reid.

Derek Morgan.

Emily Prentiss.

Jennifer Jareau.

Luke Alvez.

Tara Lewis.

Elle Greenaway.

Outer Banks.

Rafe Cameron.

JJ Maybank.

Pope Heyward.

Kiara Carrera.

Sarah Cameron.

John Routledge.

The Last Of Us.

Ellie williams.

Joel Miller.

Tommy Miller.

Jesse.

Dina.

Maria.

If you see someone of interest, here's my masterlist, I may have some work on them!

feel to leave your own request at my inbox, → here

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 months ago

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The Performer: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: Hold on. Just hold onto what's good. Don't let him see how broken you are. Spencer becomes heartbroken when he realizes that you don't want to see him but you'll see everyone else. How can you see yourself through his eyes like this?

Season Five Masterlist

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

Once Paul was taken to the interrogation room, the team got together to figure out how they were going to talk to him. If he is the unsub, then how is he doing it? Paul is pacing the interrogation room while the team watches him from the next room.

"A lot of this doesn't add up," Spencer mutters.

"We've been wrong before."

"Not this much."

"The plot thickens," Emily says when she enters the room. "He was arrested for domestic violence ten years ago."

"How bad?"

"Well, Garcia was able to find the battery charge but it was expunged, so who knows?"

"Again, welcome to celebrity justice," Kim scoffs.

Emily looks through the two-way mirror and watches Paul pace in thought.

"He's pretty agitated."

"I wonder why."

"Celebrities out here aren't used to being put in the box," Kim explains.

"This seems more than that, though."

"I don't know. These are people everyone falls down around and defers to. Adulation is their norm."

"You know, Prentiss, that may be a good way for you to play him," Derek says.

"Me? You were the one who pointed at him. He may see you as an adversary. Have him off-guard."

Derek wishes you were here. He hates the rule Strauss put in place for you. Let the locals handle it. His ass. If you were here right now, you'd be able to see through Paul and understand how to get to him. He clenches his jaw in thought. Rossi walks into the room, bringing Derek back into reality.

"So, what did you tell the press?"

When Paul arrived, the press and fans were outside waiting to hear what he had to say. Word travels around fast when it comes to celebrities. Rossi stayed behind to deal with them.

"My official statement was that I hate Los Angeles. What's happening?"

"Prentiss is gonna take the lead."

"Good choice."

"Remember, if he is the unsub, he's ashamed of the disorder so use that to your advantage. Tell him you can't believe that someone like him could do this. Throw him a lifeline. Oh, and ask him for his autograph."

"Right," Emily nods. "Adulation." Emily takes a deep breath and walks inside the room. Paul stops pacing but he isn't calm about any of this. "Mr. Davies. Have a seat. Relax."

"Relax? How the hell am I supposed to relax? I've been trying to call my manager, but I can't get a signal."

"These interrogation rooms don't usually have cell service."

She gestures for him to take a seat across from her, and he does.

"Is there another phone that I can use? I think there's been a really big mistake."

"There's been no mistake. I'm sure that you couldn't have had anything to do with what's happened."

"Really? I mean, you're the one that brought me in here."

"The police gave me some bad information."

"You're not the police?" he asks, skeptical.

"Neither one of us is the type of person who belongs in a police interrogation room. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Of course, I know who you are. I'm a big fan."

"Really?" he scoffs.

"Does that surprise you?" Emily laughs.

"Yeah, that's a surprise."

"Okay, well, before we get started," she takes out a blank sheet of paper and slides it to him along with a pen. "Would you mind?"

"Would I mind what?"

"I hate to ask, but I don't usually get opportunities like this."

Paul seems to understand what she is asking and shoves the paper away from him.

"What the hell is this? You're no fan of mine. You people think I'm stupid. Am I suspected of something?"

Okay, time to drop the act. He's not going to buy into it anyway. Emily gets right down to business and takes out some crime scene photos to show him.

"What's the name of your new album, the one that comes out today?"

Paul looks at the pictures and almost gags in horror.

"Is she--"

"Dead? Yes. With the name of your new album written on her."

"It's a common phrase."

"Is it? It seems a little odd to me. The instead of A. This girl went home with you last night. Can you explain that?"

"I don't remember," he stutters.

"You don't remember hurting her? Their blood was drained from holes in their throats."

"What?"

"Are you a vampire, Mr. Davies?"

"You can't be serious. It's a character I play. A stage act."

"I understand things get out of hand, sometimes."

"No, no, no! This is crazy! I don't know how that girl ended up like that. I think I need my manager here."

"You're gonna do this all on your own, just like a big boy."

"I have a right to a lawyer."

"Are you asking for an attorney?"

"No. I'm asking to speak to my manager so he can find one. I need a phone. I need to make a call. I need to make a call."

Emily can't question him further if he asks for a lawyer. She gathers the files and leaves him alone in the room.

"There's nothing you can do when they lawyer up, Prentiss," Derek says.

"Y/N would know if he was lying or not."

Everyone goes quiet at your name and just like that, Derek's jaw ticks in anger.

Spencer's phone rings and he answers it when he sees it's JJ.

"Dr. Reid here."

"Spencer, what is going on? Anything?"

"The possible suspect is some sort of rock and roll star. A lot of it doesn't fit the profile, though."

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah. There's a lot of media attention."

"Okay, I'll get right on that when I get back. I'm at Gina's house so let me get some info first."

"Great. Thank you so much," Spencer hangs up.

"None of this makes any sense," Derek sighs.

"Television is saying his new record is selling through the roof. All of his stuff is. As soon as his being questioned in an actual string of murders became public. What are we gonna do with him?"

"Well, he wants to talk to his manager so maybe we let him make that call and find out what that guy knows."

"It's worth a try," Derek nods.

Hotch steps off to the side to take a call only to return five minutes later with some news.

"That was the lab. The saliva samples from the victims' throats indicate that the DNA's from a woman."

No one says it but everyone thinks that if you were here, you would have known it was a woman from the first crime scene. Not having you here is weighing down heavily on everyone's shoulders. If they don't help you out of prison, then what kind of family are they to you? You say for them to work normal cases and help other people but who is helping you? Who is going to save you?

"A woman? That's incredibly rare."

"Not impossible."

"No, but Renfield's with this type of aggression almost never presents this way."

"Okay, we knew something was wrong. Our profiles have never been this far off, Reid. Go back and work it with a woman. See if there's anything we may have missed. Prentiss, get ready to give Paul his phone call."

With his permission, Emily escorts Paul out of the interrogation room and into the main room where every police officer is roaming. She leads him to a desk phone and stands close to him.

"Can I have some privacy?"

"That's not how it works."

He's given a chance to use the phone regardless if someone is next to him. He takes the opportunity and calls his manager.

"Ray?"

"Holy hell, man, the record's gone through the roof!"

"What do you mean?"

"It's flying off the shelves. I told you I'd fix it. I told you. Yeah, everything's good. You're gonna be back on top and everything's gonna go right back to normal, You can stop doing the drugs."

"Ray, I'm at the police station with the FBI," he hisses.

"I know, I know, I know. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry?"

"No, don't worry about it. Look, there's nothing that could be tied to you, absolutely nothing. It's all good, man."

"What did you do, Ray?"

This gets Emily's attention.

"The less you know about it the better. Look, I gotta take care of this thing and then I'll be right back. I'll be down there. Let me just fix this."

"Ray--"

"Hey, relax, would ya? It's gonna be alright."

Ray hangs up before Paul can get another sentence out.

"Did he do something?" Emily asks.

"I don't know."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd be down to fix it."

"Fix what?"

"Fix this, I suppose."

The call with Ray didn't help much but Spencer is going over the profile again since the unsub is now a woman. They made it based on a man so it's going to be different through the eyes of a woman. Penelope calls him when she's got more information on the whole situation.

"Yeah?"

"I found fan mail to Dante. Vampire fan mail. It's bananas."

"Obsessional?"

"Ad infinitum and beyond. Tara's friend Gina, the stuff she writes... He's her God. A vampire God. She lives for him. She said she'll kill for him."

"She fits every other piece of the profile. Gotta go." He hangs up. "Guys! The girl Tara was with before she died is our unsub!"

"Do you have an address?"

"JJ is there right now."

"Let's go," Hotch says.

If the unsub is Gina and JJ went to her house alone, there's no telling what kind of trouble JJ is in which is why Derek hauled ass to her place. The entire house is covered with boxes, papers, and everything else a hoarder would have in their house. It's hard to navigate through the mess but half of the team walks inside the house while the other half goes through the back.

JJ wasn't expecting Gina to be off her rocker with styrofoam boxes of blood in her backyard, nor was she expecting Paul's manager to hit her in the back of the head with a shovel. She is going to have a slight bruise later, but nothing she can't handle.

The team arrived just in time to save her, arrest Ray, and take Gina away no matter how much she screamed about the blood going bad if she didn't take care of it.

The team is back on the plane before they know it, and tension is high. JJ is sitting by the window with an ice pack on her head, Spencer is staring at her with guilt in his eyes, and Derek is watching Spencer's body language and reactions. Everyone else is doing their own thing.

"I feel so bad I didn't go with you to interview Gina," Spencer sighs.

"Spence, stop, alright? We had no way of knowing she was gonna be dangerous. She was just the friend of a victim. Granted, a schizophrenic friend with a sociopathic partner."

"Seriously, Reid, we had no way of knowing that Gina had that type of anger inside of her," Derek says.

"Y/N would have known," Spencer whispers with tears. Silence falls over everyone. He looks up and lets the tears fall. "I don't understand why she doesn't want to see me."

"Kid," Derek sighs, "she doesn't want you to look at her like that or remember her in that way."

"We're supposed to be partners. Do you think I wanted her to see me after Tobias? No, but we did it anyway."

No one has an answer for that. They honestly don't know what to say. The only person he can talk to about this is you, and that's hard when you won't let him talk to you. He doesn't care if you don't want to see him. He's going to go down to that prison and talk to you like adults because he can't handle not talking to you. A few days after they landed back in Virginia, he finally got the chance to head down to Goochland to see you.

You're in the rec room with Ashley playing some cards with her. You spent a few days in solitary confinement but got out on good behavior. Big Sue hasn't touched another person after being humiliated in front of everyone, and she's been leaving Ashley alone in fear of you.

"I am so sorry you got thrown in solitary confinement because of me," she sighs.

"Listen to me, I won't be all the time so you need to stand up to these bullies. I know it's scary but I promise that if you do it once, they'll back down. She won't bother you and if she does, just stand up to her."

"Okay," she nods.

"Y/N?" You look up and see one of the guards approaching you. "You've got a visitor."

"Who?"

"Spencer Reid."

Your heart aches at what you're about to do. You look away from the guard and curl up on the couch.

"I don't want to see him."

"Okay."

The guard tells the office in the lobby of this, and the officer looks at Spencer who has hopeful eyes.

"Inmate has refused visitation. Next!"

Someone pushes past Spencer to talk to the officer at the desk but Spencer can't seem to leave. He's angry, frustrated, and heartbroken all rolled into one. He doesn't know what to think. What does this mean for you two if you won't let him see you?

"Better write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." - Writer Cyril Connolly

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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admirationandromantics · 6 days ago

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Masterlist

❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀--✽--❀

Until Dawn:

Christopher Hartley

Michael Munroe

Joshua Washington

Matthew Taylor

Samantha Giddings

Ashley Brown

Emily Davis

Jessica Riley

The Last of Us:

Ellie Williams

Dina

Jess

Once Upon a Time:

Peter Pan

Captain Hook

Marvel:

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pottersmiracle · 11 months ago

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masterlist 【!】

• Harry Potter

- harry potter - ron weasley - hermione granger - draco malfoy - pansy parkinson - blaise zabini - tom riddle - fred and george weasley - sirius black - remus lupin

• Euphoria

- rue bennett - cassie howard - jules vaughn - maddy perez - kat hernandez - fezco - nate jacobs - lexi howard - elliot - chris mckay - ashtray

• Life is Strange 1 2 True Colors & Before the Storm

- max caulfield - chloe price - nathan prescott - victoria chase - rachel amber - warren graham - kate marsh - frank bowers - sean diaz - alex chen - gabe chen - steph gingrich - ryan lucan

• The Umbrella Academy

- luther hargreeves - diego hargreeves - allison hargreeevs - klaus hargreeves - five hargreeves - ben hargeeves - viktor hargeeves - lila pitts

• The Sparrow Academy

- marcus hargreeves - ben hargreeves - fei hargreeves - alphonso hargreeves - sloane hargreeves - jayme hargreeves

• Supernatural

- dean winchester - sam winchester - castiel - crowley - jack kline - rowena macleod - lucifer - gabriel

• Stranger Things

mike wheeler - jane hopper - lucas sinclair - erica sinclair (platonic) - will byers - dustin henderson - max mayfield - billy hargrove - steve harrington - robin buckley - nancy wheeler - jonathan byers - eddie munson - joyce byers - jim hopper

• The Walking Dead

- daryl dixon - rick grimes - maggie greene - negan - michonne grimes - carl grimes - glenn rhee - rosita espinosa - king ezekiel - jesus - abraham ford - shane walsh

• Outer Banks

- jj maybank - john b routledge - sarah cameron - pope heyward - kiara carrera - rafe cameron

• 13 Reasons Why

- clay jensen - hannah baker - jessica davis - justin foley - tony padilla - zach dempsey - alex standall - tyler down - skye miller

•Slashers/horror

- stu macher - billy loomis - jennifer check - colin gray - ethan landry - [will be adding more i just dont know how to write for some other movies cause i dont know all the lore for them 😭]

•Jackass/Viva La Bam

- bam margera - johnny knoxville - ryan dunn - chris pontius - chris raab - brandon dicamillo

• Pitch Perfect 1 and 2 (i don't like 3 i apologize)

- beca - emily junk - chloe beale - stacie conrad - ashley - cynthia rose - jesse - bumper - benji - pieter kramer - kommissar

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

-damon salvatore - stefan salvatore - elena gilbert - klaus mikealson - elijah mikealson - rebekah mikealson - kol mikealson - bonnie bennet - jeremey gilbert - caroline forbes - kai parker -

• Avengers (+Loki and Valkyrie)

- tony stark - steve rogers - peter parker - natasha romanoff- thor odinson - bruce banner - loki laufeyson - valkyrie

• Guardians of the Galaxy

-peter quill - gamora - nebula - rocket raccoon - drax - mantis

• ATSV/ITSV

- miguel o’hara - hobie brown - miles morales - peter b. parker - gwen stacy - pavitr prabhakar -

• Youtubers

- colby brock - sam golbach - jake webber - johnnie guilbert - tarayummy - anthony padilla - ian hecox - damien haas - shayne topp -

• Wednesday

- wednesday addams - enid sinclair - ajax petropolus - xavier thorpe - bianca barclay -

• Miscellaneous

- theodore finch - pete davidson - david wooderson - joel miller (show & game) - jake peralta - tate langdon - willy wonka (timothee chalamet) - felix catton - oliver quick - joe goldberg - spencer shay - freddie benson

[will probably update in the future!]

#the walking dead #outer banks #supernatural #stranger things #the umbrella academy #life is strange #euphoria #harry potter #scream #13 reasons why #jackass #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2

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zizzlekwum · 1 year ago

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Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER EIGHT

The BAU is called to New York to investigate a series of murders suspected to be hate crimes. Follows the events of Criminal Minds Season 2 Episode 16 "Fear and Loathing."

Trigger Warnings: mentions of racism

Word Count: 7,243

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin @fatherfigured [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

NOTE: Sorry about the day-late posting. I was really busy yesterday night and by the time I got home, I had to go right to bed because I had to be up at 5:30am this morning for work. I hope you enjoy!

You’re next to the coffee machine, mixing cream and sugar into your coffee, while Prentiss pours herself a cup.

“Ow!” she exclaims, spilling her coffee. “Shit!” She reaches up and grabs a paper towel to wipe her hand.

“Good morning, Y/N, Emily,” Morgan says, chuckling as he comes around the corner. “How was your weekend? Good?”

You nod as Emily moves to wipe the counter. “Played a lot of Pokemon and some Halo,” you tell him. “Can’t complain. What about you, Emily? You have a good weekend?”

“Yeah,” Prentiss says, then pauses. “No. Yes.”

Morgan chuckles, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Oh, I’ve been there.”

Prentiss smiles. “No, it wasn’t— ugh. I don’t want to get into it.”

“No problem,” Morgan says, mixing some sugar into his mug.

“It-it just feels weird for me to talk about my personal life here,” Emily explains. “You know, I don’t really know you guys all that well yet.”

“I totally get that,” Morgan says.

You shrug. “That’s fair.” You go to follow Morgan out of the room.

“I think I totally screwed up this date,” Emily says from behind you, causing you and Morgan to turn around.

Morgan laughs, not unkindly. “Okay. What happened?”

Prentiss smiles. “You have to understand, I’m a nerd.”

“Oh, me too!” you tell her excitedly, smiling. Morgan chuckles again.

“Like, seriously!” Emily insists. “You know, I can fool people for days, weeks even. But sooner or later, I blow my cover and I say something so geeky. And then he doesn’t respond, and I lose all confidence.”

“What did you say?” Morgan asks.

“Kilgore Trout,” she says.

Morgan shrugs. “Guy has a problem with Kurt Vonnegut?”

“You know Kilgore Trout?” Emily says, her face lighting up.

“I read Slaughterhouse Five when I was twelve, and it blew my mind,” Morgan tells her, smiling. “Seriously, I couldn’t get enough. So I just kept going and I read them all.”

Emily nods. “Yeah, yeah, me too! What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, Mother Night, for sure,” Morgan tells her.

“The one about the American spy,” you say, smiling.

“You’re a fan, too?” Prentiss asks you.

“Of course!” you tell her, neglecting to mention that you had gotten into Vonnegut because of her character’s passion for his writing after watching Criminal Minds in your own universe. “Just don’t ask me what my favorite is— I can’t decide.”

“‘You are who you pretend to be,’” Emily quotes.

“‘So be careful who you pretend to be,’” Morgan finishes.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you guys are Vonnegut fans,” Prentiss says, smiling. “You just made my day.”

Morgan smiles. “Any time.”

Hotch comes up behind Morgan. “Conference room in five minutes, please,” he tells the three of you before walking away.

“Got it,” Morgan says as you nod.

You turn your attention back to Prentiss as you all begin to walk over to the conference room. “I don’t understand why you being a nerd would ruin a date,” you tell her. “If it does, then I don’t think you’re looking in the right places.”

She smiles. “You may have a point,” she admits as you walk through the door of the conference room, taking your seat at the table. Prentiss sits next to you, Morgan on her other side.

A few minutes later, the rest of the team files into the room and JJ points her remote at the TV screen, pulling up a video of an adolescent girl singing. “Sandra Davis, sixteen years old,” she starts. “This is her singing at her high school talent show a month ago.” She presses a button and a picture of a teenage boy comes up on the screen beside the video. “This is her on-again, off-again boyfriend Ken Newcombe. Their bodies were found in a park near the male victim’s car in Groton, an affluent, mostly white suburb of New York City in Westchester County. It’s the third of three killings believed to be a series of hate crimes.”

“Hate crimes?” Prentiss repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“First two victims were Keisha Andrews, fifteen, and Vickie Williams, seventeen,” Hotch says as JJ presses a button and pulls up their pictures on the screen. “They disappeared from their homes in Central Westchester one night. Their bodies were found in a wooded area in the southern part of the county, near the city.”

“Strangled, beaten, stabbed,” Gideon says.

“And this was painted on their faces,” JJ says, pulling up pictures of a black swastika painted on the face of the first and second victims

“What about this couple?” Morgan asks. “How are they part of it?”

“Another swastika,” JJ tells him, pointing her remote at the TV as a picture of a blue sedan with the word ‘STOP’ and a black swastika spray painted on the side appears on the screen. “This one on the boyfriend’s car.”

“It’s a different victimology,” Prentiss notes.

Morgan shrugs. “Maybe just an escalation.”

“Or a different killer,” Gideon says.

“And it doesn’t end there,” Hotch adds. “Yesterday, an African-American community leader, a Reverend Williams, decided to take this on as a political issue— racial hate in the suburbs.”

The TV screen changes to a gritty video of a man speaking to a crowd. “What we are seeing is pure apathy,” Reverend Williams says. “Black kids are getting killed and the police are doing nothing to stop it. When will these racists be confronted?”

“Apparently, in response to Reverend Williams’ muckraking, a Black kid was beaten on the streets of Groton this afternoon. Connecticut neo-nazi group called the White Stallions claimed responsibility.”

“There are neo-nazi groups in Connecticut?” Emily asks in disbelief.

You sigh. “They’re everywhere, man,” you tell her, your lip curling in disgust at the thought.

“The mayor of Groton called me this morning, frantic,” JJ continues. “He’s desperate to solve these crimes before it escalates even more.”

“What are the racial demographics of Groton?” Gideon asks.

“Population 42,000, eight percent Black,” JJ responds.

Gideon nods. “I’d say the mayor has reason to be worried. If it doesn’t stop soon, it could flare up into a full-scale race riot.”

“So let’s make sure to solve the case before it does,” Hotch says, standing. “Wheels up in thirty.”

* * * * *

On the plane, you continue to look through the case files with the team.

“New York, New York,” Emily says, looking out the window at the city.

“Too bad we’re flying right past it, straight to the suburbs,” Morgan says, walking down the aisle to take a seat next to you, across from Prentiss.

“Hey, this is weird,” Prentiss says. “Uh, there are traces of GHB found in the first two victims, but no sign of sexual assault. So, why would the unsub use a date-rape drug to commit a hate crime?”

“Maybe he wants to weaken them,” Reid says, “so they can’t fight back.”

“But there was no GHB in the victims of the double homicide,” Prentiss says.

“There’s a lot that’s different about the double homicide,” Morgan points out.

“The question is why,” Hotch adds.

JJ walks away from the printer in the back room of the jet. “All right,” she says, holding a piece of paper. “We just got new information. A few weeks before the murder of Sandra Davis and Ken Newcombe, a threatening letter was delivered to Sandra Davis’ door. She showed it to her parents, who then notified the police. The police never figured out who wrote it.” She hands the paper to Reid.

“‘We see Ken with you and it makes us sick,’” he reads. “‘Take care to stop this now or you will pay. If you tell anyone about this you will pay.’ Strange. Doesn’t seem real.”

“What do you mean?” JJ says.

“The wording seems… I don’t know, off,” you say, for lack of a better word.

“Exactly,” Reid says. “First of all, the use of ‘we’ in a threat this direct is almost always bogus.”

“One individual trying to diffuse responsibility,” Emily explains.

“Also, the message itself seems contradictory,” Reid says. “On the one hand, ‘take care to stop this now or you will pay?’ Presumably they want them to stop seeing each other, but then on the other hand, they don’t want them to go public with it. ‘If you tell anyone about this you will pay.’”

“The point of hate crimes is to increase publicity, not decrease it,” Hotch says. “It’s like terrorism.”

“An effective threat lets everybody know that they’re in danger if they do this behavior,” Reid adds. “The author would want Sandra to tell people about the note.”

“Doesn’t sound like a guy who’s actually prepared to kill,” JJ points out.

“I’m not sure it even is a guy who wrote it,” you say.

“You’re right,” Reid tells you. “‘Take care to stop this’ implies empathy. ‘Take care?’ Males don’t use this type of language, especially when they’re trying to threaten somebody. This message is certainly written by a female, and based on the lack of psychological sophistication, I’d say it’s most likely an adolescent.”

“You think a girl killed these kids?” JJ asks.

“I think a girl wrote this note,” Reid responds.

“Let’s call that mystery number one,” Gideon says.

Hotch looks over at him. “You got a number two?”

“Maybe,” Gideon tells him. “It says here the autopsy on Sandra Davis was inconclusive.”

“She suffered blunt force trauma to the face, she had some bruising around her neck. Cause of death is still unclear. Coroner’s working on it.”

Hotch sighs. “A lot of questions. Let’s get started on some answers.”

* * * * *

When you get to the local police precinct, the mayor is already waiting out front, along with two other men. He goes to greet JJ as you step out of the SUV.

“Agent Jareau,” he says, holding out his hand for JJ to shake. “Gregory Hughes.”

“Mayor Hughes,” JJ greets him, shaking his hand.

The mayor turns to the man directly to his right. “This is Detective Rick Ware from the State Police Department. We haven’t had a murder here in two years, you understand. This was way above our heads, so we put Rick in charge.”

JJ turns to the rest of you. “These are Agents Gideon, Hotchner, Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/L/N.” You nod your head as a polite greeting.

“I have to say that what’s been happening here the last few weeks is— it’s just hard to fathom,” Mayor Hughes says. “I mean, we’re thirty minutes from the city.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asks.

“This isn’t the deep south,” Detective Ware explains. “For the most part, these are sophisticated New Yorkers.”

“Are you saying you don’t think this is a race issue?” Morgan asks.

Detective Ware shrugs. “All we’re saying is whatever happened here is way out of the norm for this community. I wouldn’t want you entering this investigation under assumptions that— well, aren’t true.”

Gideon shakes his head. “Fact is, we don’t know what this is about yet.”

“We need to concentrate on the double murder and make sure that it’s the same killer, first of all,” Hotch tells Detective Ware.

The mayor frowns. “You mean there could be more than one?”

“We don’t know that yet,” you assure him.

“All we do know is the threat sent to Sandra Davis was written by an adolescent girl,” Morgan adds.

“You can tell that just from a half a page note?” Detective Ware asks.

Morgan nods. “It’s pretty straightforward profiling.” Detective Ware and the officer to his right exchange a look.

Gideon frowns. “Is there a problem, officer?”

The officer gives a slight shake of his head. “Uh… there was a girl that we suspected at first, but then we talked to her and dismissed her.”

“I’d like to meet her,” Morgan tells him.

“I think it’s a waste of time,” Ware says.

“I’d like to decide that for myself,” Morgan says. Ware shrugs, and you all make your way into the police station to get set up.

* * * * *

Later, you, Prentiss, and Morgan follow Detective Ware to the interrogation room. “Sandra showed us the note two weeks before she was killed,” he tells you. “Now, we asked around the school for who might have a grudge against Sandra and Ken. The only girl’s name that came up was Tonya Mathis. Rumor was Ken dumped her for Sandra, although Ken told me Tonya was never his girlfriend.”

“You said you talked to Tonya about the note,” Morgan says. “What’d she say?”

Detective Ware stops outside of the viewing room, turning to face the three of you. “She swore up and down she had nothing to do with it. And I find it pretty hard to believe she would write a racist note.”

“Why’s that?” Prentiss asks.

Detective Ware opens the door to the viewing room. “See for yourself,” he says, gesturing for you to walk inside. You follow Emily through the door and look into the interrogation room from the window, where an adolescent Black girl is sitting at the table, fidgeting.

“That’s Tonya?” Prentiss says.

“In the flesh,” Detective Ware says.

“Leave her in there for a few minutes,” Morgan tells him.

Detective Ware frowns at him. “You wanna make a seventeen-year-old girl sweat?”

“I wanna scare the hell out of her,” Morgan says.

After a few minutes of watching Tonya squirm in her seat, Morgan and Prentiss enter the interrogation room as you and Detective Ware watch from the other side of the glass.

“Hello Tonya,” Morgan says. “I’m Agent Morgan, and this is Agent Prentiss. We’re with the FBI.”

“FBI?” Tonya repeats, surprised.

Morgan leans on the table and holds up the picture of the letter sent to Sandra Davis. “I’m gonna get right to the point. Writing a threat like this? It’s a federal crime.”

Tonya doesn’t blink. “I told him I didn’t write that note.”

“Oh, I know what you told him,” Morgan says. “But this is not the principal’s office, you understand? The people you threatened are dead.”

“I didn’t kill anybody,” Tonya exclaims.

“I know that. I got it,” Prentiss tells Morgan, sitting down in the chair across from Tonya. Morgan straightens back up to a standing position. “But we need to know why you wrote that note. You were angry with Ken because he didn’t acknowledge you. I get it. He didn’t admit that you were his girlfriend.”

“I was his girlfriend,” Tonya says.

“Yeah.” Prentiss nods. “What about Sandra? She’s the one who got the note. Why were you so angry with her, Tonya?” Tonya looks over to the side, away from Morgan and Prentiss. “Oh, this isn’t just about her going with Ken, is it, Tonya?” Prentiss observes. She points at the picture on the table. “That note says ‘we.’ You wanted to make it look like other people were in on it. Like the whole town was against her. Why? Is that the way she made you feel? Like everybody was against you?”

Tonya sighs, shaking her head. “It was that stupid talent show,” she admits.

“What talent show?” Morgan asks.

“I was just as good as her,” Tonya tells him. “She was just this quiet little girl who nobody liked. Then she sings and suddenly she’s all little miss popular, and Ken’s all over her. It’s not fair!”

Morgan leans on the table again. “So, Tonya… look at me. You wrote this note for revenge, didn’t you?”

Tonya glances down at her lap, frowning. She looks up at Morgan, tears in her eyes. “I know it was stupid,” she says, her voice quivering. “But I just… just wanted to scare them. I’m sorry.”

Morgan stands and exits the room, a moment later coming into the viewing room where you and Detective Ware were watching the interrogation.

“We called Tonya’s family and friends to check on her alibi,” Detective Ware tells him, shrugging.

Morgan glances over at Tonya. “That girl didn’t kill those kids.” You follow him out of the room, meeting back up with Hotch and Gideon in the conference room where he’s set up a bulletin board.

“Has anybody seen Reid?” Hotch asks. You shake your head. “Reid!” he calls.

Reid comes around the corner. “I got the coroner’s report.”

“There you are,” Hotch says. He takes the report from Reid. You, Morgan, Prentiss, and Detective Ware take a seat around the table. “‘Victim had been beaten so extensively that the cause of death was indeterminate. Post-mortem stab wounds were also discovered.’”

“Post-mortem stabs, huh?” Morgan repeats.

“What?” Detective Ware asks.

“Post-mortem stab wounds almost always indicate sexual homicide,” Hotch explains.

“Uh, this is also a fairly extreme overkill,” Reid notes, “which is markedly different from the other two girls.”

Detective Ware leans back in his seat. “So you’re saying this was a different killer.”

“Not necessarily,” you say.

“We’re saying if it was the same killer, the overkill indicates he didn’t get what he wanted from someone,” Hotch adds.

“What he wanted?” Detective Ware asks.

“Sexual offenders kill for sexual release,” Morgan explains. “And in this case, there’s no sign of sexual assault on the victims. That tells us that he probably fetishizes— takes some souvenir from his victims that he uses to get off.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t sound like the MO of a hate crime,” Detective Ware says.

Hotch shakes his head. “No, we’re pretty certain that hate wasn’t the primary motive at all.”

“He has a specific physical type, and he tries to cover his tracks,” Emily says.

“He’s a serial killer,” Gideon says solemnly.

* * * * *

The next morning, you and the team are sitting around the conference room table, watching the news report of Reverend Williams speaking. “And when did the FBI finally arrive?” Reverend Williams is saying. “Only after a white boy was killed. We cannot rely on the police. We must protect ourselves. Let the people who are taking our daughters know they will not get away with this.”

“That’s not helpful,” Gideon says as Detective Ware turns the TV off.

“No, but to be fair, to him I’m sure that this all does seem racially-motivated,” you point out. “Probably can’t look past the swastikas.”

“Explain that to me,” the detective says. “The swastikas on the bodies. What do they mean?”

“They’re a distraction. For us,” Hotch tells him. “This-this killer isn’t driven by hate, but he wants us to think he is so we don’t guess his real motive, which is serial sexual homicide.”

“I’m confident the unsub’s from this county,” Gideon says. “He knew the kind of hysteria that would flare up from these swastikas.”

Detective Ware nods. “And Reverend Williams took the bait.”

“JJ’s trying to buy us some time,” Hotch says. “She’s talking to the Reverend to see if he’ll cool his rhetoric a little bit.”

“Hate crimes are political,” Gideon says. “If we’re right, this was personal.”

“Well, we need to confirm that the double homicide is linked to the first two murders,” Hotch says.

“We need to speak to the families of the victims,” Morgan says.

“Morgan, take Prentiss and Y/L/N to talk to Sandra Davis’ family,” Hotch tells him.

The three of you stand. “On it,” Morgan tells Hotch. You and Prentiss follow him out to the SUV.

* * * * *

When you get to Sandra Davis’ house, Morgan rings the doorbell. Sandra Davis’ mother opens the door. “Can I help you?” she asks.

“Ma’am, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI,” Morgan tells her, holding up his ID. You and Prentiss do the same. “These are Agents Prentiss and Y/L/N. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions.”

She nods. “Please, come in.” You follow Morgan through the door into what appears to be the living room. A man is sitting on the couch, and he stands to greet you, introducing himself as Sandra’s father. Sandra’s parents sit next to each other on the couch while Emily takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. You and Morgan remain standing.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” Prentiss says as you look around the room. “We know how difficult this must be for you.”

Sandra’s mother nods. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

“Can you tell us what happened that night?” Emily asks.

“She just disappeared that night,” Sandra’s mother tells her. “I know she must’ve just walked out the front door, but I thought we’d hear that.”

“What about the window in your daughter’s bedroom?” Morgan asks.

“She couldn’t have climbed out there,” Sandra’s father says, shaking his head. “It’s been painted shut for years.”

“No it hasn’t,” a quiet voice replies from down the hall. You look over to see Sandra’s sister stepping out of a doorway sheepishly.

“What are you talking about, Bree?” her father asks her.

Bree glances over her shoulder towards the room in question. “I fixed it so I could get out.”

“You’ve been sneaking out in the middle of the night?” her mother says.

“I’m sorry,” Bree says, looking down at her feet.

“You’re not in trouble,” her father tells her. “But just tell me— did she sneak out before?”

Bree shakes her head. “No, I swear. She always told me not to do it. She was the good one. She… she didn’t deserve this.” You frown in sympathy.

“Nobody deserves this,” Emily says.

You notice a couple awards displayed on the mantle. “I see Sandra liked to sing?”

Sandra’s mother nods. “She loved it, ever since she was little.”

You smile. “We heard she sang in her school’s talent show.

“She was so excited,” Sandra’s mother says, her eyes distant. “Everyone was shocked when they heard her voice.” She clears her throat, looking off to the side.

Prentiss stands. “I think that’s everything we need,” she tells the Davis family. “If you can think of anything else, please give us a call.” You say your goodbyes and head back to the station.

* * * * *

When you get back to the police precinct, the rest of the team is in the conference room, bouncing theories off of one another. Hotch nods to you as you sit down.

“So we dug up everything on the first two victims, and basically these girls were good students who stayed out of trouble,” Hotch says.

“Just like Sandra Davis,” Prentiss notes.

“And we found something else— they both liked to sing,” Hotch says. “One in church, and one in a band. Their parents said that this was their passion.”

“Just like Sandra Davis,” you say, echoing Emily’s earlier words.

“African-American girls between the ages of fifteen and seventeen who like to sing? That’s a pretty specific type,” Emily says. “Sounds like the same unsub to me. And the fact that they all sing, that could be part of his MO. Maybe part of a ruse.”

“We found another girl missing,” an officer says, walking into the room. “Naomi Dade, sixteen years old.” You frown.

“When?” Hotch asks.

“Last night,” the officer replies.

“Why are we just finding out about this now?” Gideon asks.

“First victims weren’t found for a couple of days, there’s a chance she’s still alive,” Hotch points out.

“Let’s get to the profile before it’s too late,” Gideon says. You all stand and head out into the bullpen as the officers gather around you. You notice the mayor standing at the back of the room.

“The suspect we’re looking for is a Black male,” Hotch starts. “Statistically between the ages of twenty and 35. We know he’s Black because of his victims— sexually motivated killers almost always kill within their own race.”

“The victims he’s chosen are good girls,” Morgan continues. “They’re good students. No behavioral problems. They’re what we call ‘low risk.’”

“And the lower the risk of the victim, the higher the intelligence of the unsub,” Prentiss adds.

“Guy’s a smooth talker,” Gideon says. “Makes people feel at ease. Gains their confidence. You’d be amazed what these guys can talk people into.”

“Jeffrey Dahmer was once pulled over by police officers for driving over the center line,” Reid says. “He had a garbage bag full of body parts in the back seat of his car, but he was so calm and so self-assured that he convinced the officers not to look in the bag. He then went on to kill at least fifteen more people.”

“This guy’s a hustler,” Hotch says. “He may not have a lot of education, but he knows how to trick impressionable young girls. Victor Paleologus used to patrol shopping malls pretending to be a movie producer. He told Kristi Johnson he could get her an audition for a James Bond movie. And that was the last time she was ever seen alive. We think because all these girls are singers that the unsub may be connected in some way to the recording industry.”

“We know the unsub has a vehicle,” Morgan says. “Big enough to transport a body. It’s clean. It’s not too old. Nice enough to make a girl feel comfortable inside, but it’s not flashy. This is not a guy who wants to attract attention to himself.”

“Probably a large, dark sedan,” Hotch adds.

“We recommend putting this profile on the news, the paper, anywhere it might be seen by the people in this county,” JJ tells the officers.

“This guy’s ruse didn’t work on everybody,” Morgan adds. “Somewhere out there is at least one woman who didn’t fall for his game and that’s who we need to find.”

“The key to this unsub’s psychology is the souvenir he takes,” Hotch says. “We don’t know what it is yet, but we know that once he has it, his victim then becomes disposable, and that’s when he kills her.”

“The unsub’s ritual was interrupted when he killed Sandra Davis,” Gideon says. “We don’t believe he was able to take a souvenir from her. We think he may revisit her house or any place she may have frequented.”

“We recommend surveillance in locations where the unsub might approach young girls,” Hotch adds. “Churches, high schools, libraries, coffee shops.”

“Stick with the community,” Gideon says. “The people of this county should be able to offer some good leads.” He stands. “Thanks a lot. Good luck.”

The officers begin to stand and head out of the station onto the streets, but Detective Ware stops them. “Whoa, whoa, hold on, hold on, hold on.”

“I’m not telling you not to do your jobs,” the mayor says. “I just want to make sure that we don’t get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s he doing?” Gideon asks from beside you.

You shrug, frowning. “Doesn’t sound like anything good.” You head over to where the officers are gathered around the mayor.

“So please, just sit tight one more minute,” the mayor tells the officers.

“What’s the problem?” Hotch asks him.

“The problem is I would have to be crazy to release this profile to the public,” the mayor says.

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asks.

“Reverend Williams has already stirred up enough trouble by choosing to make this town a soapbox for his anti-racism campaign,” the mayor explains. You frown, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you think is gonna happen if I go to the press and tell them the killer is Black?”

“Hey, the best way to stop all this is to find that killer,” Morgan tells him. “And we just gave you the best way to do that.”

“Right,” the mayor scoffs. “By telling everybody to look out for an anonymous Black man? They’re gonna say that’s racial profiling.”

“But it’s not racial profiling,” you point out. “Racial profiling is targeting suspects because of their race. We’re not doing that.”

“We gave you a complete profile,” Gideon says, nodding. “A profile which happens to include race.”

“Look, the point is I’ve never even heard of a Black serial killer,” the mayor argues. “And neither will the African-Americans in this community, already upset by what’s been happening here.”

“You can believe in Black serial killers or not,” Hotch says, “but the fact is they do exist, and it’s only a matter of time before he kills another girl.”

The mayor shakes his head. “Look, I am not interested in debating this. Detective Ware is more than capable of heading this investigation.”

Morgan looks to Detective Ware. “You gonna let this happen?”

“Let what happen?” the detective responds. “Make every Black man in this county a target?”

“Rick,” an officer says, walking up to Detective Ware.

“What?” Detective Ware asks.

The officer sighs. “We found Naomi Dade’s body.”

“Dammit,” Detective Ware says.

JJ comes up behind him. “We’ve got a mass of reporters out there,” she says, pointing over her shoulder to the door.

“What’s it gonna be, Detective?” Morgan asks.

“Please,” Gideon tells him. “Let us help you.”

Detective Ware considers his words for a moment before stepping outside to address the press. You breathe a sigh of relief as he relays the complete profile, including race, the the reporters. He tells them everything the team told his officers. “Finally,” he says, beginning to wrap up the press conference, “I want to assure you we considered all options, and we’re certain this is the best course of action. Thank you.” He turns and walks back into the police station.

Hotch nods at him. “Detective, I think you made the right choice,” he tells Detective Ware.

The detective shakes his head. “I hope this doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

“Why would it?” Prentiss asks.

“Why? Last thing I need is to spread fear that a dangerous Black man is running around this county.”

“Best way to solve your problem is to stay focused on what we need to do to catch this guy,” Hotch says.

“So tell me,” Detective Ware says. “Tell me what to do.”

“We need to get the word out— not just on the news,” Gideon says. “We need to talk to these kids face to face. Gotta give them the profile.”

“What about the talent show that Sandra Davis sang in at her high school?” Prentiss chimes in.

“Good point,” you agree. “That might be where the unsub saw her sing.”

“That’s a good idea,” Gideon says. “Go talk to the kids at her high school.” He turns to JJ as Prentiss stands. “Set up a tip line.”

JJ nods. “Yeah, you got it.”

* * * * *

You help work the tip line for hours, coming up with dozens of false leads but nothing solid. The minutes begin to blur together until you’re all notified that Detective Ware was shot while on patrol with Morgan. You and Hotch rush to the scene.

When you arrive, the paramedics are loading the detective’s body into the back of the ambulance. You follow Hotch as he strides purposefully over to where an officer is standing by a police car, the back door open.

“What the hell happened?” Hotch asks the officer. The officer nods to the handcuffed man in the back of the police car.

“I didn’t know he was a cop,” the man tells Hotch. “W-we saw this black car parked in front of our house. This Black guy with a gun sneaking around the yard.”

“So you shot him?” Hotch asks, incredulous.

“I-I was scared,” the man says. “I got a family.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, so did the detective.”

The officer closes the door of the squad car. Hotch turns his attention to him. “Where’s Morgan?”

The officer points over his shoulder. “Back there.” You and Hotch walk past the officer to see Morgan sitting on the curb, looking down at his hands. He looks up when you and Hotch reach him.

“You okay?” Hotch asks.

Morgan shrugs, then shakes his head. Hotch’s phone rings.

“Yeah, JJ,” Hotch answers as you sit down next to Morgan. You hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder, not sure what to do. “You’re kidding,” Hotch says, causing you and Morgan to look at him. “Another girl just went missing,” he tells the two of you. “All right, we’re on our way.” He hands up the phone and you and Morgan stand, following him back to the SUV.

* * * * *

When you get back to the office, JJ informs the three of you that there’s a witness who says she was approached by a man who claimed to be working for a record company. She’s waiting in the conference room. You and Morgan go to talk to her.

“It was after choir practice, at the church,” the girl tells you. “He came up to me outside— this Black guy. Told me he was an executive at some record company and he goes to churches in the area to scout talent. He said I had a great voice and he’d like to record me.”

“What did you tell him?” you ask.

“I told him I wasn’t interested,” she says. “He gave me some kind of business card and told me to call him if I changed my mind. It didn’t even have a company name on it— just his name and a phone number.” She scoffs. “It looked so fake. How could anyone fall for that?”

“Do you still have the card he gave you?” you ask her.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t have to keep the card.”

You frown. “Why not?”

The girl hesitates. “I know him,” she says finally. You and Morgan shake a look. “He played the keyboard for the high school’s musical.”

You and Morgan thank her for her time before exiting the room, going directly to JJ. She’s already on the phone, holding up a finger. “Terrance Wakeland,” she tells you after hanging up. “I called the school to ask for his name.”

Morgan sits down at a desk and types in a number on the phone pad, putting it on speaker. It only rings once before you hear Garcia’s voice. “I was beginning to think you guys had forgotten all about me,” she says.

Morgan smiles, shaking his head. “Well, we need you now more than ever, hot stuff.”

“Aw, it’s like candy to my ears, sugar,” Garcia says. “Go.”

“All right, well, here’s the scoop,” Morgan starts. “The guy’s a freelance musician. Played keyboard for the girls’ high school’s musical. We contacted the school and they gave us a name— Terrance Wakeland.”

“In the New York metropolitan area including Westchester County…,” Garcia says, trailing off. “Computer says three.”

“Do any of them work at a recording studio or for a record company?” you ask.

“Okay, I’m going to cross reference with IRS records.” There’s a pause. “Gotcha. Mount Vernon, just outside the Bronx. A&L Studios— Looks like they went belly-up a few months ago.” Another pause. “But he still works there as a security guard.

“Thanks mama, you’re the best,” Morgan tells her, hanging up the phone. He turns to you. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

Hotch drives, with Morgan in the passenger seat and you and another officer in the back, sirens blaring. “What are the chances of us catching this psycho in time?” Morgan asks.

You try to think back to when you watched the episode back in your own universe but come up empty. You consider everything you know instead. “Well, we know he needs something from the girls before he kills them,” you say. “So we might have a little time, depending on how long that takes. It might be connected to their singing, given the recording studio angle, so there’s hope.”

Suddenly, Hotch hits the brakes, turning the wheel to the right. You lean forward and look out the windshield to see the road in front of you closed for construction. “Is there a faster way?” you ask the officer beside you.

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of.” You curse.

A few minutes later, the tires screech as Hotch pulls up to the recording studio. You leap from your seat before the car fully stops, drawing your weapon. “I’ll cover the door,” the officer says behind you as you wait for Hotch before entering the studio, gun pointed in front of you. Morgan leads.

You lean against the wall as Morgan looks around the corner. “Check the back,” he whispers quietly to you and Hotch. You nod and follow Hotch down the hall as Morgan turns the corner. You continue searching the studio, finding no one. When you enter the recording room, you notice a music stand knocked over on the ground, along with a spilled water bottle.

You nod to Hotch. “Check this out.”

“Morgan!” Hotch calls.

Morgan comes around the corner, holding a few CDs in his hand. “Yeah. Doors are wide open, lights are on. Somebody left in a hurry.”

You gesture to the spilled water. “There was definitely a struggle.”

Morgan sighs. “So maybe she’s still alive.”

“They were here, and maybe she tried to flee,” Hotch says. “She could be in the neighborhood, trying to get away.” Hotch moves to exit the room but Morgan holds up a hand.

“Guys, look at this.” Morgan holds out the CDs in his hand to Hotch. “It’s the voices, man— his souvenirs.” You watch over Hotch’s shoulder as he flips through the CDs, each labeled with a victim’s name.

Hotch puts down the CDs, turning toward the door. “Let’s go.” You and Morgan follow him outside. You all jump back into the SUV and drive around the neighborhood, sirens blaring, looking for the girl.

“There they are!” you exclaim, pointing ahead to where Terrance Wakeland is holding the girl, talking to an officer. The SUV screeches to a stop in front of him and you jump out, pointing your gun at Wakeland.

“Wakeland!” Morgan shouts. “FBI! Don’t move!”

Wakeland puts one hand up, holding onto the girl with the other. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Let her go,” Hotch commands.

“What did I do?” Wakeland asks.

“Let her go!” you tell him as another squad car pulls up beside you, two officers getting out and pointing their guns at the unsub.

“I know you think this is about those murdered girls, right?” Wakeland says. “Right?!”

“He won’t let her go,” an officer says from beside you.

“He could be armed,” another officer adds from your other side.

“Just calm down!” Morgan tells them.

“Hey, what the hell are we waiting for?!” the officer yells.

“Do not shoot!” you shout, holding up a hand.

“I want you to calm down!” Morgan commands loudly. “Put your weapons down so we can move in! Do it!” No one moves. “Do it!” Morgan yells again. The officers reluctantly lower their weapons as Morgan takes a step forward. “Wakeland, get away from the girl. Turn around. Hands on your head!” Wakeland does as he says, and Morgan takes out his cuffs as you wrap an arm around the girl and lead her away; she’s unsteady on her feet, presumably drugged, but otherwise unharmed. You lead her to the back of the SUV, helping her in as Morgan leads a cuffed Wakeland to the back of a squad car, shoving him in by his head and slamming the door behind him. It’s over— the unsub has been caught, and the next victim saved. You breathe a sigh of relief.

* * * * *

Luckily, most of your wardrobe is black, so you have something to wear to Detective Ware’s funeral. You stand toward the back next to Emily and Morgan as Amazing Grace is played on a bagpipe and Ware’s widow and children each place a red rose on his American-flag-covered coffin. As everyone turns to walk away, you move to join them before noticing Morgan standing still, so you stop and wait beside him as everyone else leaves the area.

“You all right?” Emily asks him quietly after a minute of silence.

Morgan looks at her and nods slowly. “I was just thinking. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father.”

Emily looks at the coffin. “Their father died a hero.”

You shake your head. “I don’t think that really matters.”

Morgan nods again. “Mine did, too,” he tells Emily. “It doesn’t make it any easier.” He sighs, giving one last look at the detective’s coffin before walking away. You and Emily share a sympathetic look before following him.

* * * * *

The plane ride home is unusually quiet, still reflecting the somber mood of the detective’s funeral. You’re playing Pokemon Diamond on your DS, sitting next to Reid and across from Morgan, who are playing cards. It’s Morgan’s turn, and he’s staring at his cards, contemplating his next move when Emily drops a book onto the table in front of him, making him jump.

Emily chuckles. “Oops! Sorry.”

Morgan looks at the book and laughs. “Oh, wait a minute.” He picks it up and glances at the back, smiling. “No, you didn’t. Where did you find this?”

“In the airport,” Emily tells him, smiling. “Can you believe it?” She takes the book back from him. “I haven’t read this in fif- like, twelve years.” You snort at her backtrack.

“Okay, that’s funny,” Morgan tells her. “Chapter three is where it starts to get good.”

Emily raises her eyebrows. “Okay, I will let you know when I get there.”

Morgan nods. “All right, you do that.” Emily walks away and Morgan turns back to Reid, who is staring at his cards, lost in thought. “You all right?” Reid doesn’t answer. “Reid.”

Reid startles, shaking his head. “Hm?”

“I said, are you all right?” Morgan repeats.

Reid shrugs. “I’m fine.” He glances at the rest of the team. “Thanks for broadcasting it.”

You frown as Morgan leans forward. “Hey, talk to me. Whatever you say to me in confidence is between us. You know that, right?”

Reid shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to tell you.”

Morgan sighs, setting his cards face down on the table. You look back down at your DS, trying not to listen. “Reid, listen to me. What you went through out there, nobody expects you to to rebound—”

“I can still do my job, all right? I’m not gonna freak out,” Reid insists.

Morgan frowns. “You think I don’t know that?”

Reid pauses, setting his cards down on the table. “It’s the crime scene photos,” he admits finally.

“Crime scene photos?” Morgan repeats gently.

“The dead girls in the leaves,” Reid tells him.

Morgan pauses. “Reid, we’ve seen worse.”

Reid nods. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know we’ve seen worse, but… for the first time, I know. I look at them, and… I look at them and I-I know what they were thinking. And I know what they were feeling, like, right before.”

“It’s called empathy,” Morgan tells him. “And it’s a good thing.”

Reid rubs his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. He sighs. “It’s not, it’s got me all messed up. I don’t- I don’t know how to focus. I can’t do my job as well.” He glances at Morgan. “So what do I do?”

“You use it,” Morgan says. “Let it make you a better profiler. A better person.”

Reid nods. “A better person,” he repeats quietly. Morgan nods and places down another card as they continue their game.

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