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it-was-summer · 3 months ago

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Come In With The Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, I'm so sorry for the late posting. I know that I don't have a new chapter of 'Video Killed the Radio Star' out yet, but stay with me here. This is part one (of two) of my 500 followers post! I want to thank everyone for reading and being so sweet throughout the years. I really hope you all like this first part! The second part will probably be posted sometime this upcoming week. AND IT WILL BE 18+. I'm estimating sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Again, this is not proofread because I never learn. Love you all- Em <3

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

You are on Part One! -> Part Two

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Slow burn ahh fanfiction, emotional cheating, an accusation of emotional cheating, couple fighting, sex mentioned, alcohol mentions, drunk reader at one point, light cursing, babygirl Spencer Reid, suggestion BLINK AND YOU MISS IT SUGGESTION that Reid is Bi, reader is referred to as a woman, she/her/hers pronouns at some parts, and mention of feeling like a burden. AND probably something else, idk.

Plot: Spencer Reid becomes friends with you after bumping into you at a grocery store. Instantly enamored with you he develops a crush. A crush, apparently destined to fail, because why wouldn't you have a boyfriend?

Word Count: 10,365 (That's correct... 24 PAGES)

Day One

Almost everyone could agree that Spencer’s job was incredibly arduous. If not arduous, it was strenuous, formidable, occasionally crushing, onerous; the list goes on. Overall, his job –despite all its pitfalls– was something he loved. There was one thing he was starting to hate more than anything, though: he couldn’t seem to keep all his groceries from going bad after a week of back-to-back cases.

Spencer narrows his eyes at his messy handwriting, looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cans in front of him. He just couldn’t find the can that he was looking for. Penelope had loaned him her recipe a few weeks back, and despite his disastrous efforts in the kitchen, he was determined to give it a shot. His mother never taught him how to cook –not that he blamed her, of course– so it was truly an area in which he simply lacked a lot of skill. Given his eidetic memory, he didn’t really need a list, but Penelope said this brand was best for her recipe when they talked last week. He didn’t want to risk it, so he wrote it down.

He turned his head side-to-side, looking for a nearby worker, but found none. The only person in this aisle was him. He frowned a little before the sound of a sigh passing behind him made him jump. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him, staring at a list in hand. He couldn’t help but wonder when you had gotten there and how long you had been standing behind him before your sigh alerted Spencer to the presence of another life form in this aisle.

Your head tilted slowly, your eyes met his, and Spencer felt his mouth drying. He wasn’t charming around beautiful women like Derek; most of all, he hadn’t expected to run into one at the grocery store. Your eyes stayed on Spencer for a second before they moved towards the cans in front of them. Spencer felt like a warmth had just been pulled away from him in the absence of your gaze.

He shuffles out of your eyeline as you scan the cans with a soft smile. “Thank you,” your voice was light and airy, carrying a softness that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing. Your body is closer to his as you walk toward the cans and carefully reach up on your tiptoes to grab a can of sauce on the highest shelf.

Spencer gets the idea stupidly slow: He should get it for you. He clears his throat and maneuvers his body to avoid touching the beautiful stranger beside him. He slides the sauce can off the shelf and hands it to you.

He’s greeted with a dazzling smile, dimples on your cheeks, and eyes shining bright under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. “Thank you,” you repeat before you stare at him expectantly.

Spencer can’t help but feel like his IQ is taking slashes as he stares at that smile, “Spencer,”

You gave him a gentle nod as you walked the sauce over to your cart, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Y/N.” You say as you look over your shoulder at him, hair falling into your face. For the first time in a long time, Spencer can feel the ends of his fingers twitching with anticipation at the idea of offering to brush the hair out of your face for you. He gives you a soft smile instead, his eyes trailing back to the list in his hands in an attempt to stop himself from staring.

Your voice near him almost makes him let out a yelp of surprise as you say, “Are you looking for something? I don’t work here, but I cook a lot.” You say matter-of-factly, suggesting that your cooking hobby somehow made you an expert in the grocery store layout.

Spencer felt like handing you his list and following you around like a puppy dog for the rest of his grocery shopping if it meant you’d keep standing this close to him. “Yeah, uhm, this brand of chili beans.”

“Oh, you haven’t looked low enough.” You barely even glance at his list before bending your knees and crouching down to the lower shelf to grab it. You look up from the ground, holding the can of beans for him to take with a bright smile before you say, “You’re so tall you must have forgotten about the lower shelves.” A laugh escapes your lips as Spencer carefully grabs the can from your hand.

You stand up with a gentle sigh. He can tell that you’re about to say something else when a man’s voice interrupts you. Your eyes grow brighter at the sound, and your head quickly turns toward the sound at the far left end of the aisle. “I got the cheese.” As he approaches, the man shoots the shredded cheese into the cart with a grin.

You mouth a soft ‘yay’ as the man’s arm quickly wraps around your waist. “Josh, this is Spencer. I was just helping him look for a can of beans. Spencer, this is Josh.”

Spencer feels his lips draw into a tight-lipped smile as he waves his free hand, “Nice to meet you,” He says with a slight nod.

“She’s always talking to strangers, I swear. Stop making friends everywhere you go, you little angel.” Josh says as he pinches your side, earning a melodious laugh from you. Spencer feels a little nauseous.

“Hey, gross.” You chuckle lightly as you pull Josh’s hand off your side, “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Spencer. See you around.” You grab the handle of your cart with a beautiful smile before rolling the cart out of the aisle with Josh in tow.

Spencer watches you until you take a right and disappear from his view, and now he can only look at the can of beans in his hand. He sighs at his luck, smiling a little with amusement at the fact that you have a boyfriend. His short interaction made it clear to him that you were easy to get along with. Beautiful, kind, easygoing, of course, you had a boyfriend.

Spencer silently resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never see you or Josh again as he continued with his unneeded list.

Now, he felt like the fabled gods of fate were laughing down at him as he made the last trip to his car. He was closing the trunk of his car when he heard a familiar voice yell out his name from across the parking lot. “Spencer!” You yelled with bags in hand, panting lightly as you approached him with a light jog. “How funny is this?”

A sarcastically bitter voice was in his head. Only the Ancient Greeks would find this funny. “Do you live in this building?” he asked as his eyes scanned the parking lot for Josh. His shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just you.

“Yeah, third floor.” You say as you readjust the bags in your hands. Spencer gave you an amused smile as he slid his last two bags on one arm, extending his free arm toward you.

“Need some help?” He offers in a soft voice. You give him a grateful look as you nod, handing him a slightly heavy bag. Typically, you wouldn’t have accepted help from a perfect stranger, but almost everything about Spencer screamed non-threatening, so you let yourself be a little trusting.

“Can’t believe that we’re neighbors. I'm glad I talked to you at the store; I made a neighbor friend!” Your speaking speed almost matches his when he is going on his excited ramblings.

Spencer pushes a door open with his back, holding it open for you with his foot as he laughs. “I guess it's plausible, being that the grocery store is as close as it is.” He’s quick to move to the next door, repeating the motion.

You smile gently as Spencer opens another door for you, this one leading the two of you to the stairwell. “Oh, you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t believe in fate, aren’t you, Spencer?”

“I would have to say that I absolutely fall within the twenty-nine percent of Americans who do not believe in fate. Nothing is predetermined.”

“Maybe you’re predetermined to believe that,” Is your quick remark as you walk in front of him on the stairs.

“Not likely,”

“So, what? You’re a cynic?”

Spencer smiles wide at the question, “How does my not believing in fate make me a cynic?”

You grin, tossing a skeptical look over your shoulder, before speaking again. “Not believing in fate is such a cynical thing to do,”

“And what does that make you?”

“Stupid and optimistically in love.”

Spencer shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the door that leads to the second floor, but he continues to follow you up another flight of stairs without complaint. “I would label myself as a realist.” And a profiler, but he was careful to leave that part out. The cases over the years proved one thing to him: nothing was predetermined. There was an opportunity for change everywhere.

“Okay, Mr. Realist, what about luck?” You asked as the two of you approached the door marked for floor three.

He thought for a moment as you held the door open for him, “Maybe,” was all he could say as the memory of when he was struggling with his aim came to mind: killing an UnSub with a shot to the head when he had been aiming for his leg.

“So you do believe in fate.” You turned your body to walk backward down the hallway with a satisfied, winning smile as you looked at him before slowing to a stop in front of your apartment door.

“Fate and luck are not the same thing. Luck is usually used to describe an outcome; it’s a notion. It’s circumstantial. Fate defies logic, science really.” He said as he handed you your bag carefully. His eyes glanced at the number on your door: thirty-seven. “You live with your boyfriend?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself, silently screaming at himself for being a creep.

The question barely phases you as you reach into your pocket, searching for your keys. “Yeah, moved in six months ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Spencer hated small talk. Actually, he secretly hated the fact that the first person he found attractive, after months of failed dates, was taken. He also hated that you were living a floor above him for six months, and he hadn’t known about it– hadn’t known about you. Above all, he hated that he enjoyed your company already, especially having only known you for more than a few hours at best. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“A year and eleven months,” you answer with a soft smile, your eyes giving way to soft emotion as you open your door. “What floor do you live on again?”

Spencer wants to say that you never asked, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He was sure you couldn’t be rude if you tried, that sweet smile of yours not capable of the act. “Second floor,” he answers as he readjusts his bags timidly.

With a soft gasp, you set down a bag or two, “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologize softly as you look up at him, your eyes beautiful and tender. Spencer can’t remember if he is mad when he looks into those eyes.

Spencer let out a meek and barely audible “It’s okay,” He decides it truly is.

You bite your bottom lip and smile at him, “Well, thanks for your help, Spencer. I really appreciated it. Come up some time and say hi!” As you beam at him, you move a stray hair out of your face.

Spencer nods slowly, swallowing thickly, and manages a soft smile. His feet move his body back to the stairwell slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Day Forty-Two

You’re laughing over something Josh said. Spencer doesn’t really get it, but you seem to think it is the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. Punchlines usually went over his head, but he was always happy to nod along with a smile on his face.

Spencer honestly didn’t want to come up and visit you and Josh a month ago. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in himself to stay away from your electric personality—why he visited you and Josh three Saturdays ago was still a mystery to him.

As Josh walks away with a smug smile, you turn to Spencer. He watches as you lean towards him, eyes tracking Josh until he’s out of sight. Your amused smile falls from your face as you whisper a soft, “Did you get that?”

Spencer is taken aback at the question. You laughed at Josh’s joke; how did you not get it? Why did you laugh so hard if you didn’t get it? He wonders until he’s whispering that same question to you, “If you didn’t get it, why did you laugh?”

You smile a little cheekily and only slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t want him to know I didn’t find it funny. Sometimes, he falls short of witty humor.”

Spencer smiles at that, shaking his head as he stares over at the area where Josh disappeared. “Why don’t you just tell him that you didn’t find it funny?”

“Because,” Your voice sounds offended, but the amused look in your eyes tells him differently, “I’m his girlfriend of two years, and I’m nice. Unlike some people.” You give him a side-eyed glare, making Spencer gasp in mock defense.

“I’m nice!” He hisses out in a defensive whisper. He briefly falters at your incredulous look before slowly nodding in defeat, “Okay, I’m a little mean sometimes.”

You smile again and face him, your hands moving as you talk, “Which is funny because you’re perfectly nice when you’re around me.”

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that one either. After being friendly with the couple for a little over a month, he just could not be friends with Josh. His jokes flew over Spencer’s head, he talked over you (and sometimes him), and he never seemed to take your interests seriously.

Last Monday after work, you called Spencer, asking him if he wanted to go to the movies with you to see a tragic Italian film. He was quick to say yes, partially because of the excellent movie selection and because he wanted to be around you more.

When he asked why Josh wasn’t joining them, you simply said that it wasn’t Josh’s thing. That didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go. Then, the day after, you called him again, asking him if he’d be willing to go with you to one of those paint-and-sip places around town that weekend.

His answer was another resounding yes, and he didn’t even drink. Then the question came again during the class, and you responded with the same thing– it wasn’t Josh’s thing.

Josh’s thing was going off to work all day and then coming home to ignore you for a good two hours before dinner. Then he was all yours again. At least, that’s what Spencer saw. He understood that everyone needed their alone time and that he was being a little petty and a little jealous toward Josh.

He wanted to be the bigger person, honestly. It was just so hard when your boyfriend made it so easy for Spencer to hate him. He’d never say that to you, of course. You looked at Josh like he had hung the moon yesterday and then created the stars today. You never missed a chance to talk about Josh around… well, anyone—the precursor to Spencer’s current dilemma.

Deep down inside, he knew that his inappropriate crush on you couldn’t possibly get worse. So he thought, What’s the harm in becoming close friends with you? If anything, it was likely that seeing more of your personality would pull his rose-colored glasses off his face and force him to see you in a normal, less love-sick light. After all, he had gotten over his embarrassing crush on JJ and saw her almost daily at work.

When Josh walks back into the room, he’s on his phone. He barely glances up from the text as he speaks to you, “Hey, babe, would it be okay with you if I head out for the night?”

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion, “But Spencer is here, and we were going to finish the movie, remember?”

“Right, but I already know what happens. I mean, it’s a tragedy, right? Spencer and you always have more fun together doing your nerd stuff. No offense, Spencer. The guys just want me to go out with them.”

A realization dawns on your face as you realize he’s not asking so much as telling you he’s leaving. You nod slowly, letting Josh kiss your forehead before he grabs his keys and leaves. You look over at Spencer, who is trying to be polite by not watching the scene, looking down at the television remote with a deep interest.

You smile slowly, sadly, and turn your body a little on the couch facing the television. The rest of the night is spent in your living room with Spencer, sitting next to each other and watching a movie before ending with your head on his shoulder and the soft tone of someone saying they “Liked the movie.”

Day Ninety-Three

You could feel something starting to slip. It was a familiar feeling; something in the ground was shaking. It shook you, at least. You always noticed it first—a crack in the ship's hull. You were always the first to address it, too.

With Josh, it used to be customary for him to apologize for any indiscretion and try to fix the damage. But false promises are like duct tape in the ship’s hull, slipping and sliding against wet wood, water pouring in until the whole ship goes down.

It wasn’t always like this. Him coming home and ignoring you for hours, only to acknowledge you late into the evening. It was relatively new to your relationship. Well, if you consider nine months new. By now, you could only label it as consistent. Before you lived with your loving boyfriend, he would carve out time in the evenings just to talk with you for hours or take you on dates that sometimes lasted for days on the weekends.

You knew that living together would take some of that away– everyone deserved to have their private time, and you weren’t going to start demanding day-long dates anytime soon. You just missed the effort he used to put in, the time when he would make days for the two of you– hours for just the two of you.

A year ago, Josh would have jumped to see that weird new Hungarian horror movie with subtitles for you if you had asked. He would have attempted to stay awake during it, hold your hand during the parts that scared you, something lovely.

The first crack started when you moved in with him. One evening, you had gotten home from work early and occupied the living room for a few hours, watching some random French movie that had been recommended to you by your best friend. She didn’t like this kind of thing but knew you did, so you were grateful that she had thought of you.

When he came home from work a little later than usual, he saw you on the couch with a plate of pasta, watching the movie intently. You turned your head towards the door and smiled wide at him. “Hey! I made spaghetti, grab a plate and watch this movie with me? I’ll restart it.” Your hands were already reaching for the remote when a heavy, annoyed sigh cut through the air. You looked over at him again and gave him a gentle, empathic smile, “Hey… did you have a hard day? We don’t have to watch anything we could–”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to do anything with you right after I get off work?” Josh hissed out as he threw his keys onto the wooden kitchen table.

You felt your head reel back a little at the question, and you laughed a little, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees on the couch. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you ever thought I might want to come home after work and not talk to you for a few hours? I mean, I thought that after living here for two months, you would have caught on, but clearly you haven’t. I come home, and you’re right there, ready to talk. Prepared to force me to sit down and watch some… foreign language film that has some profound meaning that you’ll blabber about for thirty minutes before bed tonight.”

You blinked a little at his harsh words, which were unlike him. He never seemed annoyed by your passions, hobbies, or ramblings. In fact, he always seemed to encourage them. You tried your best to give him a genuine smile, “Love, you’ve had a long day. Let’s just take a second and get some food in you, and then we can d–”

“You’re not getting it,” he laughed bitterly, a sound that caused a sick knot to grow in your throat. “Sometimes, I’m tired of it being we, we, we, we. I’m always doing things with you: Cooking with you, reading with you, watching movies with you, sleeping with you, going on dates with you. Ever since you moved in, it's like it's always an ‘us’ task or a ‘we’ task.” His voice was rising in volume, and you felt your breathing becoming shaky. “I feel like you're always on top of me. It’s suffocating! Maybe I just want to be alone for a few hours. Maybe I don’t want to watch your stupid, fucking, symbolic foreign films.”

“I... I didn’t know that’s how you felt.” You breathed out as you slowly turned the television off and got up with your plate. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to soften those brown eyes and start telling you that he didn’t mean it. You wanted him to tell you that work was brutal that day, and he had accidentally lashed out at you. But he just stared at you, panting a little. “I’ll leave you alone some more. I, uhm, I’ll watch this alone in our room.”

And that was that. You had convinced yourself that you were a problem. You were too clingy, always in his space, always trying to force him to like your hobbies, always trying to share too much of yourself with him, always too much. So you decided that maybe what you wanted to do wasn’t his thing anymore.

Besides, you had plenty of friends that liked the same things as you did… maybe. Molly didn’t like foreign films, but Alex enjoyed them enough. Molly did like to paint, but her schedule always conflicted with yours. Sabrina was also a fan of painting but had moved to Boston last month. The list of her friends with crazy work schedules could go on and on, as could the list of friends who moved. You had thought about reaching out to some of them, but Josh’s words rattled you to your core, and suddenly, you felt like a burden for wanting to spend time with your loved ones.

Then, after six months of living with Josh, you met a man in a grocery store—a tall, hazel-eyed, intelligent man. Spencer Reid was unlike any man you had ever met in your life, a rare friend. He was transparent, often going into long, passionate tangents that always had you learning something new. So when he randomly mentioned a foreign film he wanted to see that weekend in one of your conversations, you felt comfortable asking him to come to the movies with you.

Then again, to the paint-and-sip place where the two of you failed to partake in any wine and managed to paint two terrible renditions of sunflowers. Spencer Reid was becoming a friend that you didn’t think you’d burden. Your other friends were quick to explain that you weren’t too much. Still, maybe it was because he had helped you carry your groceries up to the apartment the first day you met him or the way he was so happy to listen to your stories and thoughts. Something about Spencer Reid made you believe him when he said that you weren’t a burden.

And he was nice to be around. Then, there was the pesky fact of Spencer being attractive. At first, it was more of a passing thought. The way he wore his glasses late at night, how his hair fell to one side, the way his fingers were so gentle with books. He was a good-looking man in a nerdy way. Mix that with sweet, caring, and accomplished; he was a threat.

A threat to anyone but your loving boyfriend of two years. Sabrina was laughing over something you had said over the phone, her giggles rising in volume as she tried to speak between them, “He’s a.” Giggling. “An adonis of th–” Cackling. “The mind!” She managed before asking, “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’s a very smart-minded, attractive person.”

“Oh, so you’re like… crushing on the hot mind guy and fighting with Josh. Got it.”

“I’m not fighting with Josh, and we talked about it last month. We’re okay now.”

“Still ignoring you when he comes home?”

You pause before you let out a slow sigh, “Yeah.”

“What’s his record?”

“Four hours and fifteen minutes. He said he will try to be more attentive throughout the week, but he just keeps…” You trail off. You can imagine Sabrina shaking her head on the other side of the line.

“What about the weekends?”

“Going out with his friends more, he visited his mom’s last weekend. Nary a date night in sight, not since our second anniversary at least, and that was..”

“Yeah..” There was rustling, chips maybe, on her side of the line. “Maybe he’s planning something big. Maybe a trip? I don’t know, maybe you should bring it up again.”

You nod a little, your hands typing away gently on your work computer. “Maybe. The last time I mentioned missing our date nights, he just said, ‘We have dinner dates every night at home.’ That was an incredible feeling.”

“Something about weaponized ignorance is coming to mind.”

“Don’t,”

“Josh has been lacking in good boyfriend points since that stunt with the cake on your birthday,”

“He got a little icing on my nose!”

“Don’t,” She dragged out the ‘t’ sound, “Care! The disrespect! Your dress! Ugh, I’m going to get worked up. Talk to me about Dr. Genius.”

“What about him?”

“Does he ever, maybe, do something you wish Josh would start doing?”

You laugh, “What? No…”

“So you don’t wish that Josh would know the symbolism behind The Red Shoes and go into how… what did he say?”

“That art was worth dying for, and that Hans Christian Andersen's original story surrounded a sense of morality and religious–”

“Ah, Ah, Ah, so you don’t want Josh to know that?”

“He doesn’t need to know that,” your fingers falter in their typing, “Two people can have similar interests and not be in love.”

“Right, it just seems like lately, you’ve been…” You hate the awkward silence that follows Sabrina before she carefully speaks again, “Maybe replacing Josh with Spencer in your hobbies. I know Josh lashed out and was wrong, too, but this Spencer guy… he clicks with you– your hobbies, at least. And your witty humor, too. It seems he matches your intellectualism and your passion for learning, exceeds it even, but Josh is steps below you. Josh, he… just always seems so tolerant of your hobbies.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” a voice calls her name, “Look, I gotta go. Josh is great, and I’m just being silly. Maybe I just have a grudge against him or something. I love you.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” You reply quickly before she ends the call.

You shake your head a little at her words, still swimming in your mind as you go back to charting something on your computer. What did that even mean? Josh is steps below you. He wasn’t dumb. He just lacked… that dry humor you had with Spencer sometimes. A quick, witty remark that had one of you smiling in seconds. Besides, that notion was ridiculous, given you had only known Spencer for three months. Josh made up for it in love… and you did love him.

All couples went through rough patches, but you were sure that if you raised your concerns again with Josh, things would change. You nod a little at the thought as you sigh, shifting in your chair slightly as you readied yourself to be engulfed in your work.

Day One Hundred and Forty-Six

Spencer could feel the bass of some pop song thumping in his chest. It had been a pleasant and slow week at the BAU. While he would have loved to go home and sit down with some book of his choosing, he allowed Penelope and Derek to convince him to go out with them.

The bar wasn’t too far from his apartment complex, so he didn’t mind. Penelope was twirling her drink's tiny umbrella between her fingers as she pointed towards a pretty red-head dancing in a dark green dress. “What about her?”

They have been playing this game for ten minutes now. By they, he means Garcia and Morgan. The game is ‘Who does Spencer find pretty at the bar?’

“Babygirl, you have a great eye,” Derek says as he points the woman out to Spencer, but before he can say anything else, Spencer decides they’ve played this game past the point of amusement.

“Why can’t we accept that I don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, again?”

Penelope frowned a little, giving Spencer a pleading look. “You said that the last time we took you to the bar, you were willing to participate next time. It’s next time, Reid.”

Spencer remembers the conversation and groans softly as he sips on his water. He hated disappointing them with his lack of effortless charm. It had improved through the years, but he still struggled to find the right words to say in front of someone he found attractive.

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Are you going to back out of your promise?” Derek’s voice is teasing as he smiles at Spencer. Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of newfound obligation. He knew what was holding him back and hated himself for it.

His inappropriate crush on you had grown to be near debilitating, and even though Spencer had told himself that it’d never happen, he kept holding out hope that one day it would. He had gone on dates in the near five months he had known you, but he always ended up comparing his dates to you. They never laughed as sweet as you. They came up with the same academically related jokes you did. They never– they just weren’t you, simple as that.

“Fine, but someone else. She’s pretty, but I think that girl is her girlfriend.” He pleaded softly, watching as a taller brunette woman spun around the pretty redhead to the beat.

Penelope clapped and set down her drink, “This next one has to be perfect.”

“Pretty boy’s future bride,”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush at that, and he nudged Derek with a nervous laugh. Penelope was still scanning the crowd. The bar wasn’t empty or devoid of beautiful women or men for her to choose from, but no one screamed Spencer Reid material. Derek was scanning the crowd with her, always happy to see her passionate about something, even if it was Reid’s love life.

A gasp slipped past Penelope’s lips as she grabbed Derek’s arm tight, her index pointing toward someone by the speakers. Derek’s eyes landed on who she was pointing at, and he smiled wide, nodding quickly, “Future Mrs. Reid material,”

Spencer can barely see where they are pointing as he tries to look toward the area that Garcia is pointing at. Then he sees her. It’s you, and his heart drops. He wants to tell his friends he knows that isn’t ‘Future Mrs. Reid’ at all, but Derek and Penelope are already pushing him into the crowd. He glares back at them and stubbles with his footing for a second before walking toward you.

You’re wearing a beautiful black dress, hugging your curves. In the flashing lights, Spencer thinks that you’re shining. Your hips sway lightly to the beat as you stand near the speakers, alone.

Spencer gently taps you on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you have a glare on your face before you see it's him. He almost laughs at how you gasp and loudly scream, “Spencer!” Your hands fly out to his shoulders, shaking him gently as you giggle. “Hi!” You’re so drunk.

Spencer is sure that Penelope and Derek are watching the scene unfold with confused expressions as he laughs softly, your hands on his shoulders gently shaking his body side-to-side. “Hey, where’s Josh?” He yells over the music.

“Getting drinks!” You yell back in an excited tone.

He smiles wide and shakes his head a little; he usually doesn’t find drunk people endearing. But right now, in the flashing lights of the bar, your rosy-cheek face and tipsy giddiness have him feeling a little more enamored than usual.

“Who are you here with?” You ask loudly, your hands falling away from his shoulders.

“Uh, my friends, coworkers!” he replies as he stands beside you to point out the confused-looking pair staring at them.

“Can I say hi?” He could tell that your friendly disposition continued even when intoxicated, and he found himself adoring the consistency. He nods gently, and you’re smiling so much. Spencer wonders how someone could be so excited about meeting someone else’s friends.

He leads you over, your fingers grabbing the back of his button-up as he carefully leads you through the crowd. The gentle pull of your fingers gripping his shirt makes his cheeks burn as he stops in front of Derek and Penelope. “Y/N, Derek, and Penelope. Penelope and Derek, Y/N.”

You let go of the back of his button-up quickly as you extend a giddy hand, “Hi, I haven’t met any friends of Spencer's yet.”

Derek looks amused as he shakes your hand, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer, “How do you know the boy genius?”

“I found him looking lost in the grocery store. We’re neighbors! Well, almost,” You let go of Derek’s hand to point towards the roof, “I’m on top of him.”

Spencer can feel the breath knocked out of his lungs as he quickly corrects you, “She lives on the floor above me.” He explains before either of them can make a joke.

Penelope matches your happy attitude as she shakes your hand, “We had no idea that Spencer had a friend in his apartment complex! How long have the two of you been friends?”

“Almost five months,” You say with a little giggle, leaning toward Penelope slightly. “Spencer comes over to discuss movies with me or books, or we went to a poetry reading last weekend.”

“He comes over often, huh?” Derek’s voice asks playfully, and you nod quickly.

“The mothership is always beckoning,” You joke, laughing harder than you should at your own joke.

Penelope slowly drops your hand, tilting her head, and her flower earrings sway slightly. “And... your roommate is okay with that?” she asks carefully, and Spencer wants to ask why she doesn’t simply ask if you have a boyfriend.

“Oh, no. Josh doesn’t care. He’s my boyfriend of two years. Nothing can break that security, I’m sure.” You look towards the bar for him and catch his eye. You wave high and wide for him, and he smiles, shaking his head at you as he waits for the drinks.

“So, Pretty Boy here is just a friend.”

You giggle a little at the nickname and try to cover your smile with your hand, looking at Spencer. “Pretty Boy?” You giggle out. Spencer frowns a little and goes to defend himself, but you’re already nodding, “He is a pretty boy. That’s fitting.” Then, he feels like his body is on fire.

Derek is about to say something when Josh slides behind you with two drinks. “Always with Spencer,” he teases softly, kissing your cheek before handing you your drink.

“Josh, these are Spencer’s friends, Penelope and Derek.” You say, taking the drink and happily taking a small sip.

Josh holds out his hand for them to shake, a charming smile on his face, “I thought Spencer’s only friend was my girlfriend.”

Penelope doesn’t laugh, but she still manages a polite smile and shakes his hand before Derek does the same thing. Spencer fidgets a little, still beside you. You turn your head up toward him, and you mouth a soft, ‘He’s drunk’ as a way to excuse Josh’s behavior.

However, recently, Josh has been acting like that sober. He would demand to join the two of you at the movies while complaining about the movie selection. He’d sit between the two of you if the opportunity arose, which wasn’t strange. What was weird was how he’d become more physically affectionate with you in front of Spencer. Spencer hated that– hated looking at it.

Josh quickly grabs your shoulders and says, “We should let you all get back to your night.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already leading you away. You gasp as he guides you away from the three of them, and you quickly smile, wave, and yell out a quick, ‘It was nice to meet you’ before you walk further away with Josh.

Penelope sips on her drink as a way to stop herself from talking, but Derek breaks the silence first. “So he’s jealous of you.”

Spencer wants to deny it, but even he can’t deny the facts. “Not at first, but now… I don’t know if I’m not nice enough or if I did something, but yeah, lately, he’s been like that.”

Penelope sighed and looked toward where you and Josh had walked off to, “She seems sweet,”

“Yeah, Reid’s head over heels for her too.”

“Wait, Spencer, are you?”

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shaking his head a little, a lame attempt to try and hide his feelings. Derek lays it on thick, “Come on, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. Did you see how he looked at her when he approached her earlier? Like a lovesick dog with a bone in his mouth.”

Spencer raises his hands and scoffs, “Okay, I’m working on it, alright. She’s just easy to be around. I’m getting over it.”

Penelope is swooning over the information, “A forbidden romance,”

“Her gatekeeper boyfriend and you, the pretty boy genius from downstairs,” Derek adds.

Spencer sighs, annoyed with their teasing, “Alright, let’s drop it.” The pair gives him a look, and he adds a soft, “Please.” Seeing their friend’s annoyance didn’t usually deter them, but the way he shifted from one foot to the other as he begged them to stop had Penelope and Derek sharing a look before letting all their silent jokes go. Spencer was grateful that evening had returned to normal, his nervous thoughts slowly slipping away with easy conversation.

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three

You’re sure Josh is mad at you for something. You just can't get it out of him. A few weeks ago, he had been nothing but sincere. Soft again, sweet again, him from a little over a year ago. It was beautiful, and it felt like he had finally listened. It felt like he had come back around and somehow repaired the hull.

Then he started ignoring you again. You had been careful, so careful, not to suffocate him like he mentioned. You make sure that you go out with Spencer on weekends. You distance yourself just enough for Josh to miss spending time with you. Spending time with Spencer was also good for you; he helps keep your spirits high.

He kept you feeling lighter than air. He would text you sometimes on cases with the team when he was out of town. Little reminders, little jokes, and sometimes… It felt nice. You didn’t know how to describe it. Thrilling, calming, extraordinary, and tumultuous all that once. It confused you, pulled at the heartstrings, softly tugging at something deep within you. It unsettled you and made you ache when you looked at Josh in bed next to you.

But his sweetness distracted you. Erased longing and replaced it with familiar love. You knew his steps, and he knew yours.

And now, he was angry with you. You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to be a pest to the man you loved. You hoped he would just come right out and say it. You hoped that his cup of secret rage would overflow and spill over.

The sound of heavy footsteps disrupts your stagnant reading. Your eyes kept reading the same sentence. Every time you tried to continue with the following sentence, you found yourself unable to do so. You set the book face down on the bed and smiled a little at Josh as he stood in the doorway. It was Friday night, and Spencer was on a case. Molly was busy, Christina was busy, and everyone was busy. So you stayed home, attempting to read.

He was drunk, no drunk didn’t even cover it. He looked like death, pale with red eyes and muttering incoherent things to himself. “Josh… are you okay?” Your smile quickly faded, and you moved to the edge of the bed, watching him sway against the door frame.

He didn’t answer and just laughed a little, which turned into a groan and then a sigh. You push yourself off the bed and walk to him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, but before your fingers can touch him, he smacks your hands away with a deep frown. “Josh!” You gasp as you pull your hand away, rubbing at the slightly pink skin.

“Not right,” he mutters, and you shake your head as you try to understand what he’s talking about.

“What’s not right? Josh, are you okay?”

He stumbles as he pushes past you, his shoulder roughly bumping into yours as he sits on the bed. You stay by the door. “This. Us, not right anymore.” He roughly puts it together.

You can feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach as you turn around to face him, “What are you talking about?”

“Not right anymore,” his drunk hands are dramatically waving between the two of you, “You’re not,” he motions to his chest lamely, “Here anymore.”

You can feel the tears threatening to rise in your eyes, your breathing becoming fast as you shake your head. “I’m here, you’re here.” You point your index into your chest, just above your heart. “What are you saying?”

“Not here,” He repeats loudly.

“I am here!” you yell back as you walk to him. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but we can discuss it, Josh. We can fix things.” You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on your chest, its weight making it difficult to breathe clearly.

“No,”

You’re quick to talk over him, “Yes, we can,”

“No, we can’t,”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay, we can–”

“No–”

“It’s okay, I won’t be mad–”

“I’m in love with someone else,” He yells, his spit hitting your cheek. Your hands twitch slightly at the feeling, but you can’t move. All you can do is stare at him with a gaping mouth, opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. You couldn’t form the words, and your mind was blank. “Don’t give me that.”

You feel like someone else’s voice is speaking, “Give you what? Shock? Disgust? You’re in love with someone else. How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to be happy? Oh, Josh, I’m so happy for you and your mistress! I’m so glad that you’re fucking her and me at the same time! I’m so happy, so happy!”

“I’m not fucking Estelle, she and I,”

“Your coworker, are fucking you kidding me?”

“Oh, shut up with the pity party!” He looks sober suddenly, his face red and twisted with rage as he stands up from the bed. Your footing slips a little before you catch yourself walking back from him. “You think these past six months I’ve enjoyed having him over here all the time? Giggling with you in the living room over some intellectual private joke that I don’t get, o-or how about when you disappear with him every weekend you can? Introducing you to his friends in bars, going to movies with you, you didn’t try hiding it from me!”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” Then it dawned on you, and Josh could tell from how your back straightened and how you looked at him with unsure eyes. “Spencer? You think I’m cheating on you with Spencer?”

“Not physically, but yes.”

“Josh, what are you even saying right now? I made a friend who likes the same things I do. I mean… a year ago, you told me that I was suffocating. You told me that you didn’t enjoy my hobbies. Did you just expect me to stop them? How did I cheat on you? Spencer and I we’ve never–”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never fucked, or-or kissed him! Emotionally, you gave up on us. You’re only emotionally available for him. He gets you, all your jokes, your kindness, everything. He has it all. You’re always running into his arms!”

“Running into his arms? Josh, you push me to him. I don’t love Spencer; we are just friends. He’s there for me because he is my friend! What are you going to say now? Th-that I forced you to Estelle, who, by the way, I saw last month at that Holiday party for the office. Are you going to tell me that me being by your side all while having a friend with the same interest as me was too much for you?” You can barely breathe.

“You know it's more than that, don’t play victim. I can see the way you look at him. You used to look at me like that, and then six months ago, you met him. You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t try.” You repeat back before you’re scoffing a little, pacing the room quickly. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me for months. If anyone has the right to play the victim here, it’s me. I don’t see you for hours. We had the day off for our second anniversary, and you didn’t talk to me until noon. When I moved in with you, did you even want me to be a person? Or did you want a perfectly still doll, interesting only when you want her to be interesting, talkative only when you want to listen, ready for the taking when it was good for you? Go ahead, treat me like a fucking doll.”

Josh is shaking his head now, his breathing ragged as he slowly runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t,” He pauses, his eyes looking at a photo of the two of you from two years ago framed on the bedside table. “It doesn’t matter anymore? I don’t love you anymore. You can make me the villain. I don’t care. I want you out.”

You swallow hard at his words and laugh a little, “Where am I supposed to go?”

“I,” He looks at you, and you see how tired he looks. The part of you that still loves him feels crushed; the other just feels angry. “My name is on the lease. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll let you pack a bag, but I want you,” he motions towards the apartment, and you assume he means your presence in the apartment and your things. “Gone.” And he doesn’t let you say anything back, walking out into the living room.

You stand still; you feel frozen. You don’t know if you want to start crying, start packing, or just call people to see if you can crash at theirs. That feeling, the feeling that he planted in you rises inside you. You’ll be a burden, suffocating, and miserable. But you need a place to sleep for the night.

Your shaky hands reach for your phone on the bed, randomly calling people. Alex is out of town, you know. Christina just moved and doesn’t even have a couch yet. You call Molly, but she doesn’t answer. You wish you lived in Boston so you could call Sabrina, but that’s unrealistic. You keep scrolling through the contacts and try to think.

As you reach the next contact, your fingers falter, and your mouth feels dry. You hesitate multiple times before hitting the call button. You wait with bated breath as you bring your phone to your ear.

Ring.

You should hang up. This is a bad idea.

Ring.

Doesn’t this just prove Josh’s point?

Ring.

You don’t even know if he’s back in town or when he’ll be back. You should hang up before he answers; call someone else.

The third ring is cut short as Spencer picks up the phone. Your hands shake as he says a gentle, tired, “Hello?”

“He-hey.. Uh, are you still in Illinois?”

“No, we’re an hour out. Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.”

You lick your lips quickly as you debate, telling him everything: the fight, how Josh is kicking you out. Instead, you settle for, “I just need a place to crash for the night, and I know it's a big ask, and you’re getting home from a case, but–”

“Yes, yeah, you can stay at mine.” You let out a slow breath and nod a little, a sense of temporary relief settling over you.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be at yours in an hour?”

“See you soon,” Spencer says before you hang up the phone. You get to work as fast as you can, grabbing luggage from the closet and packing like a mad woman. Anything you can fit into the case, you carefully fold or roll up and stuff inside.

An hour comes around, and you’re packed enough for a week at the very least. You grab the only thing on the bed that’s yours, a dark green blanket, before slowly rolling the suitcase into the living room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re not in your body anymore, watching the scene from the ceiling.

Josh turns, a phone against his ear, and you only catch the ends of an ‘I love you’ before he hangs up. He draws his lips in a tight line before asking, “Where you headed?”

You feel like he knows the answer, “Spencer’s.”

His lips turn upwards, and he laughs; he laughs so hard that he’s gripping his side. “Ye-Yeah, that's right. Prove me right. Run straight to Doctor Reid. Fucking rich.” He snips at you as you finally feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “You know what let him have my sloppy seconds.”

You gasp softly, the comment like a punch in the gut. “Have fun fucking her in our bed. Make sure to put the pictures face down before you give her the most underwhelming four minutes of her life. I’ll be back tomorrow to start packing.” You say as you start stepping through the front door, slamming it behind you. You’re panting lightly in the empty hallway, your mind numb as tears stream down your face. You don’t remember lugging your stuff to the second floor or getting to Spencer’s door.

The only thing you remember is the sound of your name and gentle hands grabbing your chin and tilting your head up with care. You remember sobbing, hyperventilating out the events of the past evening to him as he helps you inside. And the eventual call of sleep that reaches you on Spencer’s couch.

Day One Hundred and Ninety

Spencer could hear the soft sounds of your computer playing something in the living room. Last Friday… Well, technically, early Saturday morning, you had your head on your knees outside his apartment door. The sound of sobs had him dropping his dirty go-bag and grabbing your chin to soothe you.

He listened to everything: how Josh thought that you were emotionally cheating on him with Spencer, how Josh had fallen in love with a coworker, and how he kicked you out. You said you would have stayed, but the lease was in his name. It was a stupid decision of the past catching up with you– your words, not Spencer’s.

You had told him that it would only be for one night, but Spencer wasn’t going to make you couch surf all week. He insisted that you stay with him until you found an apartment. He let you stuff your boxes of things in his study and was happy to do it.

The worst part about this arrangement was seeing you like this, seeing you so heartbroken. You went to work a little later than him, came home later than him, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle. He kept catching you with a dissociative look on your face. Too scared to ask you if you were okay, he would awkwardly attempt to cheer you up with your shared hobbies. But that only worked for so long until you were ending the night with that numb look on your face again.

He lays in bed, wondering if he should go into the living room to check on you. He barely thinks it through before he throws his covers off and slips out of bed. He has plaid pajama pants on with an old CalTech shirt, and when he walks into the living room, he can see you pause what you’re watching on your computer and smile at him.

“Hey,” you whisper, even though it's just the two of you in the apartment.

“Hey,” Spencer whispers back before sighing and walking toward the back of the couch. “Can’t sleep?”

You look up at him before returning to the dimly lit computer screen, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” His quick reply has you nodding a little. You shift a little, pushing yourself up to make room on the couch for him. He takes the unspoken invitation and sits down next to you.”What are we watching?”

You lick your lips nervously, “Romcom. When Harry Met Sally.”

Spencer glances at you before he admits, “Never seen it.”

You gasp softly, and that playful light returns in your eyes for a second. He hasn’t seen that light in a week. “Spencer Reid, you haven’t lived.”

Spencer takes the opportunity to joke around with you, making a buzzer sound with his mouth. “Wrong. I’ve been alive for many years.”

This gets a weak smile from you, but still a smile nonetheless. “You want to watch it with me? I know it's late, but… maybe it’ll lure you to sleep if you find it boring.”

Spencer grins, glancing at the clock to see how late it is. He shakes his head a little, “Maybe we could just talk for a second? I’ve barely seen you this week.” He suggests. You’re quick to nod, shutting your laptop. You lean back on the sofa and bring your legs up to sit crisscrossed. He watches you. Your eyes are no longer red or puffy, but the skin on your cheeks still seems pale, lacking their natural rosiness.

“I found a great apartment, but I can’t move in until the end of this month.” You break the silence first, hands folding awkwardly in your lap.

Spencer nods, resisting the urge to hold one of your hands as he speaks. “That’s fine, and I’m not kicking you out anytime soon. You’re stuck with me for three more weeks.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Ever the gentleman,” You say softly, but your eyes don’t have that light anymore. You seem distracted, your eyes lingering on him briefly before staring at your hands. “Spencer,”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do when everything feels like too much?”

Your voice cracks softly as you ask the question, and Spencer is scared you’ll start crying again. He always feels useless whenever you cry, a genius without answers. He swallows the nervous lump in his throat: “I read, or sometimes I force myself to go out. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I end up at the public library. Or sometimes, if I have the day, I go to the Smithsonian. But... it’s been a while.”

You seem to perk up a little at the mention of the Smithsonian, and you give him a playfully little side glance, “Air and Space?” You guess with a small smile.

He smiles and shrugs, “Sometimes,” he returns the playful sideways glance. “Portrait Gallery?”

You’re laughing a little as you nod. Spencer feels relieved to hear its soft melody. “Portrait Gallery.” You confirm your pick with a soft sigh.

Spencer lets warm silence spread for a second, his eyes occasionally flickering over to your serene expression. “What about you? What do you do when you’re overwhelmed?”

Your eyes meet his as he asks the question, and for a second, you seem a little surprised that he is asking you anything. He wonders if you expected him to keep talking or ignore the tension in the air around you.

“Well, reading is lovely. Museums, movies,” you pause for a second, and your expression softens. “Music. I love music when I’m feeling overwhelmed, sad, or happy. It’s a universal fix, music.”

“What kind of music?” He has heard you talk about music before, how you didn’t understand people who hated it. Music helped him escape to childhood memories, the good ones at least. He wondered if it had the same effect on you.

“Everything. Pop, country, indie, anything that moves me. I like classical too, but only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

“I like it in ballets, plays, movies. I like the visual representation that accompanies it.” Your eyes leave his slowly, “Like a music box with a ballerina inside.”

Spencer finds that this version of you, the melancholy version, is blunt. You don’t people-please or avoid questions; instead, you would directly state something. He liked how you directly stated your musical likes and how honest they were. He finds himself wanting every version of yourself that you have shown him lately, and he feels a little guilty for it.

A soft gasp from your lips stops him from overthinking, “Oh shoot,” You mutter as you pull out your phone, looking at the calendar before you curse softly.

“What’s wrong?’

“I, uhm,” You swallow hard and set your phone down, “I just remembered that Josh and I were going to celebrate our third anniversary a little early this year. Our second wasn’t the best, and he promised we would do something I wanted to do. We had tickets to see Swan Lake.” You chew on your bottom lip slowly, getting lost in the thought before you say, “That’s next month. I gotta cancel.”

Spencer can see how you slump at the thought and how sad it makes you to cancel the plans. He feels himself saying the words before he can even process them: “I can go with you.”

You turn to him with a soft laugh of disbelief, “What?”

“We could go together. Make the most of it. I mean, I like Swan Lake.”

“Spencer, it would be wrong to spend what would be my third anniversary with you. I mean–”

“It wouldn’t be the exact day. You said it was a couple of months early, so it would just be us…going to see Swan Lake. Just friends, seeing a ballet, and getting dinner or something. A night on the town. Something to keep your mind off things,”

He hopes you’ll agree to the offer, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes dart back and forth, rapidly looking into his eyes and then at his face. The silence is killing him, a knife in his back as he tries his best to breathe normally.

Then you’re giving him a slow smile, a little shy at first, before you beam at the suggestion, “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go to the ballet together. I mean, I would do it with or without Josh anyway. Now I’ll be able to go with someone who will actually enjoy it, even better.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones again, and you place a tentative hand over his. “Thank you, Spence.” Your voice is sincere, and Spencer feels his body relax when you touch him.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening two months from now.” He whispers in the air between you before he slips his hand away from yours and stands. He yawns softly, “Now… let’s get some sleep.”

You nod, a small smile still on your face as you lay on the couch. “Night.” You whisper as you close your eyes.

Spencer stands and stares down at you a little longer than he should before he takes a step toward his bedroom. “Goodnight,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. He’s thinking about your genuine smile for another hour before he even closes his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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zvdvdlvr · 7 months ago

Text

Where Were You? Where Were You?

🩻 - Synopsis. Aaron realizes how badly he messed up, but doesn’t know if he has the strength to mend the wounds he gave himself and you.

🩻 - Warnings. Angst. No happy ending. Self isolating!Aaron. Boo hoo we’re all pitiful clowns here. Part one HERE! NOT EDITED!

🩻 - Author’s note. Part one got so much love!!! Thank you all for reading and commenting. I hop you enjoy the second part, but I’m bringing in the big guns for part three! :)

You stayed to get your psych evaluation. It took two tries. The first time around took a toll on you: reliving everything that happened, talking about it in explicit detail, and acting like everything was fine. But you knew you failed before it even began.

You took it again a couple weeks after. Even though you were officially benched from any cases, you didn’t complain.

All the time the team spent away gave you the opportunity to job surf. In reality, quitting the BAU was much harder than you initially imagined. Of course you would still be able to see them and talk to the team, it just… wouldn’t be the same. You would miss J.J.’s round of ‘good mornings’ as she swept by you all, eyes locked on the coffee pot a few feet away. You would miss Derek perched on Emily’s desk, teasing you, Spencer, and Emily like he was getting paid for it. You would miss Spencer looking over at you every couple of minutes to see of you were paying attention or not; making faces at you or mouthing words if you weren’t. You would also miss Emily spinning stories about her past, telling you the good and the bad, letting you closer into her heart. You would obviously miss Penelope’s hugs whenever she could tell if something was off, trying to cheer you up. And Rossi. Rossi buying the coffee at expensive places after begging him too, Rossi giving you advice during a case, Rossi being the father of the team he was meant to be. But… most of all you would miss Aaron.

Aaron speeding to his desk in the morning, desperate for something to wake him up. Aaron walking into casual Friday in a pair of tight-fitting jeans you didn’t know he had. Aaron stepping out of a hotel room in a quarter-zip, unaware of you ogling him. Aaron letting Jack go straight to you whenever the little guy swung by. Aaron’s smell when he hugged you. Aaron. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.

No. You physically shook your head. Get rid of him, you thought, he’s just going to make it harder for you to leave. The computer screen was giving you a headache now. You finally decided to get up and stretch your legs.

As you moseyed over to Penelope’s cave, you noticed the time: 11:49.

“Hey Pen,” you greeted. “You eat anything? I’ll go grab lunch for us,” you offered.

“Hey mamas!” Derek greeted. You saw his face of the screen, smiling.

“Hey, you. How’s the case?” You asked, immediately happy to talk to the man.

Derek shrugged and looked at someone behind the camera. “Reid! C’mere. It’s y/n/n.”

You heard a couple gasps over the quiet chatter in the precinct and suddenly Emily and Spencer’s face showed up on the screen.

“Hi y/n!” Spencer greeted excitedly. You came to stand behind Penelope, poking her in the cheek as you greeted the both of them.

“Hey Spence! Hey Em!” You were happy to see the pair. Though you had seen them only four days ago, you missed them. A pang of guilt stabbed at your heart: how were you supposed to quit your job if you couldn’t stand four days away from them?

“-ffee shop you’d love. I got that mocha stuff you normally get to try, and it was alright. I guess I see why you like ‘em,” Emily shrugged.

“I’ve been telling you! Anyway, how’s the case?” You asked.

“Close. I can feel it,” the black haired woman said plainly.

Spencer nodded and started talking about the case. The unsub’s main slaughter technique consisted of an electrical wire- of all things- and a Swiss army knife, a different knife each kill. You nodded along, listening to what your friend said. Eventually, you heard “Reid!” and Spencer said a quick goodbye and he was out of frame.

“That’s our cue, baby girl,” Derek said. “I’ll talk to you two ladies later.”

You heard Emily’s ‘bye!’ and the screen turned black.

“Sweetness, I would love some food,” Penelope groaned. “I’ll eat anything you get, but I need a pink lemonade! I need it, y/n, or I may perish.”

You laughed. “Yes ma’am.” With that, you poked her other cheek gently and left.

— 🔥

Aaron heard your conversation. He heard your sweet laugh, how easily you fell into conversation with Derek, Spencer, and Emily. He thought of the few months before you were taken. You were excited about a stray kitten you had found, claiming that the little creature followed you from your apartment to the bookstore you swung by regularly. You hadn’t even realized the calico until you sat down and felt his little paws tugging on your pants, tiny mews trying for your attention.

You were overjoyed to have been- in your words- ‘decided worthy enough for the system to choose you’. Penelope had been buzzing about it too, especially after showing her numerous different pictures of the little fella.

Spencer had asked what you did with him, knowing you didn’t have the time to take care lf a kitten when you were gone so much. You told the team that you had given it to a cousin’s daughter, who was immediately taken with the kitten.

The joy in your tone as you gushed about the kitten was palpable. Aaron loved- liked so many things about you, and how passionate you are was definitely one of those qualities. But he felt his own smile fade off of his face as his eyes fell back on crime scene photos: he had a job to do. And you were unimportant.

— 🔥

You picked up Chinese food, ordering inside the restaurant because the line wrapped around the whole building.

After ordering, you paid and gave the cashier a smile. You kept smiling until you turned away, still feeling her wandering gaze drag harshly down your cheek, eyebrows furrowing as she tore herself away from the scar as dipped below your shirt.

As you stood back and waited, you felt like everyone’s eyes were on you. What an idiot, you thought: a government agent who doesn’t even have the confidence to buy some food. Your jaw tightened and you kept your eyes down, waiting until your last name was called. You saw a little girl look at you as you walked out. She held her hand up to wave and you smiled at her, the chubby cheeks of her face lifting into a bright smile. You looked away when her mother pulled her forward, sharp eyes glaring at you.

The little girl’s toothy smile filled your head as you drove back to the office. The ice in Penelope’s pink lemonade clinked around in the plastic cup as you drove. You drove in silence, thinking of the mother pulling her daughter away. Were you… really that bad? Ugly? Your heart sank into your stomach: a feeling you were starting to get used to. You saw your vision blur, but refused to cry. Maybe that’s why Aaron doesn’t want to see your face anymore. Because you were a monster. MacMillian had done his job- successfully.

— 🔥

Aaron stared at the text on his phone.

From Penelope Garcia 🖥️😄: u need to talk to y/n. ASAP. i don’t think she’s okay and i think it has to do with the macmillian case

It had been three weeks since the case and you still hadn’t spoken to Aaron since before you were kidnapped. Well, you had talked to him, but it was stiff and professional. He looked over at Rossi who was speaking with a few officers. Aaron felt like an idiot.

He wanted bothing more than to drag you into his office and sit you down to talk. Talk about what happened, what he did, how you felt, how you’re feeling now. Aaron just wanted to help you heal but he knew he can’t. He can’t jeapordize your relationship or his job. Aaron felt a lump grow in his throat. He didn’t even know what he wanted anymore- other than you.

To Penelope Garcia 🖥️😄: How is she? What happened?

From Penelope Garcia 🖥️😄: she went to get food for us and came back all upset. i think the poor girl was about to cry :(

From Penelope Garcia 🖥️😄: and i think there’s something else i need to tell you

From Penelope Garcia 🖥️😄: but it has to be in person.

Aaron leaned back in his chair. “Damn it.”

— 🔥

A day later the team came home. There was an arrest and the case was closed. There was a lighthearted conversation on the way home, Reid and Rossi playing a card game as Derek, Emily, and J.J. bickered over something (Aaron doesn’t know anything when they get together and scheme). But Hotch was looking out the window and thinking of Penelope’s texts. What had happened to make you shut down? What news did Penelope have for him? How were you doing mentally? How are you at home?

Hotch knew you had nightmares. Hell, everyone could tell. You had growing purple splotches under your eyes, a larger coffee cup every morning, and you zones out consistently during the day. You wore turtlenecks- that Hotch personally thought you looked amazing in- even in 85 degree weather. Not to mention how jumpy you are whenever someone touches you.

Reid had nudged you one day to get your attention; you were staring at nothing and it was time to leave. Derek watched you, a frown on his face after saying your name thrice. Spencer nudged your shoulder with a knuckle and you flew backwards, stumbling out of your chair, a hand coming to your cheek (where The Scar ran down your face). You played it off quickly after seeing Derek, Emily, Rossi, and even Hotch’s looks. But the fear in your eyes… Spencer knew you thought he would hurt you.

After landing, Hotch gave the team the day. As they all cheered and left to get their stuff, Hotch walked into the bullpen where he knew you were still working.

“Y/n.”

God, Aaron missed you. Missed seeing you, being in the same room as you- hell, breathing the same air as you.

You looked up from your computer, eyes falling on an exhausted looking SSA Aaron Hotchner. “Sir?”

“You may have the rest of the day off.” Aaron swallowed, holding your eye contact. Your eyes were one of his weaknesses. After a second of silence, you nodded.

“Thank you, sir.”

Hotch turned on his heel and made his way to see Penelope. He felt his head spin: your blank stare and emotionless eyes felt like a knife to the gut. Aaron really fucked up, hadn’t he? Fucked up so bad you called him ‘sir’ and acted like you hadn’t bonded over your love for Phil Collins and old action movies. And how to looked away from him like you hadn’t slept in Aaron’s house clad in a pair of his sweatpants and an old sweatshirt, Jack lying on top of you after falling asleep to a cartoon. And especially the way your voice was monotone, completely different from the way you held up a quiet conversation after being sent home because you had a concussion.

“Garcia-“

Penelope stood up the second she heard Hotch’s voice. Tears welled in her eyes, shining brightly against the different colored lights in her cave. “Sir, it’s about y/n. I- I didn’t mean to snoop, but she’s just been so distant lately and ever since that case, she hasn’t gone out with me, Emily, J.J., or even Spencer! I’m really sorry-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Garcia. Slow down. What happened?” Aaron asked. He felt bile rise in his throat. He had a gut feeling that whatever the bubbly blonde woman had to say wouldn’t be good. He swallowed.

Penelope harshly wiped the tears off her face. She looked down and then back up, clearly distraught about the news. “Y/n applied to another job… and got accepted.”

🏷️: @zaddyhotch @jazzimac1967 @polireader @magical-spit @angelmather1 @pettydonuts @aremuslupinsimp

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oneshotnewbie · 3 months ago

Text

❝𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬❞

𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (& 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑇𝑒𝑎𝑚)

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡: "𝐼 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝐻𝑜𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘. 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 „𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑠“? 𝐻𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑝𝑠𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 – ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑."

ᕚ---ᕘ

"Emily." you called quietly, but with an undertone that was unmistakably frustrated. You stomped down the stairs from Hotch's office and walked past everyone else on the team, your goal strictly set on the black-haired girl. "We need to talk."

Emily Prentiss looked up, her eyes flashing with amusement as she saw the seriousness in your face. She was sitting at her desk, organizing some files, but it was obvious that she had been waiting for this confrontation - yes, maybe even enjoying it.

"Oh?" she leaned back in her chair, folded her arms under her chest and gave you a challenging grin. "What have I done now?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You folded your arms too and took a step closer. "I asked you yesterday to tell Hotch that I wouldn't be coming because I was sick."

"And I did," Emily raised her eyebrows, acting innocent and casual. "Well, more or less." You snorted deeply when you heard her answer and let your arms fall to your sides. "What the hell did you tell him?"

Emily couldn't hold back the grin any longer. She practically beamed as she repeated the sentence that had obviously caused a lot more of a stir than she had originally expected. "I told him that you died for our sins."

For a moment, the room was completely silent. You stared at her with your mouth wide open, as if you couldn't believe what you had just heard. Then the pent up frustration burst out.

"Are you out of your mind? That really upset him, Em!" you raised your hands as if to illustrate the absurdity of the situation she had maneuvered you into. "He just hugged me! Aaron Hotchner hugged me!!"

The woman in front of you started to giggle, but you were far from finished. "He told me he was going to kill you in a shootout on the field! He seriously thought I was... dead. Thanks to you!" you emphasized the last word, as if you wanted to make sure Emily understood the full extent of the misunderstanding.

That was the moment when she finally lost control of herself. She pressed her lips together, her shoulders began to shake, before she suddenly burst out laughing. She threw her head back slightly and grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand, as if she had to hold on. Her laughter was loud and infectious, and it didn't take long for other team members to take notice.

"What's going on here?" Derek Morgan was the first to come over to you when he heard Emily laughing. He leaned casually against his desk and looked at you intently. "Someone wants to let us in on the joke?"

"Oh, believe me, you want to hear it," the black-haired woman gasped between her fits of laughter and you looked at her intently, your eyes shooting daggers at her.

Spencer Reid, who had just been working on his laptop, looked up curiously from his desk, already putting on his glasses and giving you a questioning look. "What happened?"

"Emily..." you rubbed the bridge of your nose as if you were trying to muster up the last bit of patience. "Emily told Hotch yesterday that I died for our sins instead of just telling him I was sick."

Morning let out a loud laugh as he processed the sentence. "Oh my god, that's epic. I wish I'd thought of that."

"Wait," JJ said, who had also come over and stood next to Reid, one hand holding onto his desk chair. "Hotch really thought you died?"

"Oh yeah," you confirmed dryly, biting your lip. "He was completely distraught. He hugged me tightly and said he didn't expect to ever see me again. That was really bizarre."

"I would have wanted to see his face," Morgan said, suppressing his wide smile as you gave him a deadly glare. "Hotch is usually so calm and collected."

"Not half an hour ago," you said, shaking your head. "It really shocked me when I saw him like that."

"It was just a little joke," Emily said when she finally caught her breath, even though the grin was still on her face and stretched across her rosy cheeks. "I thought he would understand."

"Emily!" you said in frustration, tilting your head to the side, rolling your eyes. "It's Hotch! Of course he didn't understand!"

Reid, who had been listening quietly and not interjecting until now, just shook his head, obviously confused. "But why did you even say that? What was the purpose?"

"I've had a tiring night and a long day. I needed some entertainment." she answered him simply, quickly turning her gaze back to you, grinning mischievously.

"Entertainment?" you raised an eyebrow, and braced your hands on her desk, bringing your face closer to hers. "You seriously made Hotch believe I was dead. It's a damn miracle that he didn't show up at my door in the middle of the night or that my phone didn't explode with messages."

"This may have gotten a little out of control," Emily finally admitted, raising her hands in a gesture of innocence. "But in my defense, it was a damn good joke."

"He hugged me," you repeated, stunned, shaking your head again as if you were still processing what had happened. You slowly raised your hands in the air, drawing a vague outline as if you were trying to reconstruct the hug. "He never does that. Never."

Morgan was now standing next to you, looking up from his phone before watching you. His eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he was waiting for you to realize at any second how absurd the situation really was. "I bet he was really worried. He may seem harsh, but everyone knows he cares about us like we're his children."

"Exactly," JJ agreed. "And if he really thought you were... well, you know, dead, then I can imagine that hit him really hard."

"Oh, I know," you said with a sigh and dropped your hands to your hips, the despair on your face replaced by a slight smile as you considered the absurdity of the situation. "He looked really upset. I didn't know what to say."

"How did you resolve it?" Reid asked curiously, tilting his head to the side and pushing his glasses up on his nose. He looked at Emily searchingly, as if he wanted to analyze every little reaction and consider the logic behind her actions. "I mean, it must have been a pretty weird moment."

Your fingers ran nervously through your hair as you took a step back, frowning in resignation. "I told him that Prentiss was lying and I was just sick. But he looked at me like I was a ghost."

"You should have just left it at that," Emily said, her laughter now completely dead and her shoulders relaxed as she looked past you to Reid. "That would have kept the tension going a little longer."

Your head snapped back to her and you glared at her. "I was about to shake him and tell him I was alive. He almost pinned me to the ground, that's how tight the hug was."

"The man is usually so stoic," said Morgen, shaking his head and his eyes wandering to the floor as if he was trying to keep himself from laughing again. "He'll never forgive you for that, Prentiss."

"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to talk to him normally again without him seeing me as a walking dead man." By now you were sitting on the edge of Emily's desk, your fingers tapping your thigh thoughtfully.

"Well," Emily said with a winking smile and placed her hand on your lower back. "You should just be glad he didn't arrange a memorial service for you right away like he did for me when I died."

JJ gave Reid a knowing look and laughed softly before placing a hand on his shoulder when she saw that he was still deep in thought. "It's fascinating how people react to such information. You'd think that a logical mind like Hotch would be immediately suspicious. But in a moment of emotion, he apparently took the information at face value."

"Spencer, sometimes you just can't act logically when you think someone you know has died," JJ said calmly as she gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"That was an extreme example," you replied, still shaking your head. "I really don't know what you were thinking, Em."

Emily shrugged and grinned cheekily at you. "Life is too short not to have fun. And besides, when else do I get the chance to annoy Hotch?"

"Scared?" you asked, needing to know if you had understood correctly. "He's ready to take you out on the field at the first opportunity..." you raised your hands again, this time to imitate a gun and pull the trigger with your fingers.

Morgen let out another laugh, followed by JJ. "Oh, I bet that'll be a fun conversation the next time he sees you."

Emily shrugged again, as if she didn't care at all. She grinned and reached forward to drop her hands from your waist and straighten some files on her desk. "I'll take the risk," she said casually, giving you another cheeky wink. "You only live once, after all."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that answer, though you bit your lip to keep it from happening. "You're incorrigible," you muttered as you pushed yourself off and slowly walked back to your desk.

"It's one of my many talents," Emily called after you, giggling softly once more. She reached for a pen on her desk and began to playfully twirl it between her fingers, giving Morgan and JJ an amused look. "And hey, you're still alive, so it's all good."

You sighed deeply again as you reached your desk and plopped down in your chair. As you immersed yourself in your work, your eyes kept wandering to Emily, who still had a satisfied smile on her face.

You turned to the others, whose faces were contorted in amusement and wide smiles. "Tell me, what's wrong with this woman?"

Everyone shrugged and scattered to their desks. It was clear that this incident would be a topic of conversation for a long time - and that Hotch might actually be plotting revenge.

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bettysupremacy · 1 year ago

Text

The Cheerleader Curse

summary When you randomly show up at Eddie’s table, he takes your presence more malevolent than you intended

w/c 1.3k

a/n requested here!

Carol groans as Tina’s new boyfriend squeezes the meat of her hip. Turned away, he’s locked in a conversation with his teammate beside him.

“It’s sweet.” You defend.

“It’s nauseating, is what it is, I’m trying to eat here.” She takes a fry from your tray casually, popping it into her mouth.

Your nose scrunches, kicking her under the table with your white cheer sneaker. “Don’t be a bitch,” you take a handful off Tina’s boyfriends tray, dumping them onto hers. “Take his.”

She laughs loudly, biting into another one.

Tina’s boyfriend Derek turns, confused at the loudness of Carol’s laugh. “Girls.” Tommy shrugs, covering up your misbehavior. He too steals a fry from Carol’s plate, slinging his arm around her when he’s fit the whole thing in his mouth.

Tina’s shoe nudges yours. “You coming to my party this weekend?”

You dust your hands, chewing on a fry thoughtfully. “Um,” you swallow. “I think I have plans.”

Tina and Carol share a look. A dramatic, exasperated, look. “We never get to see you anymore.” Your best friend whines.

“You know we miss you at the parties.” Tina follows in suit.

You nod, understanding of their annoyance. “I just,” you sigh. “I promised I’d bring the boys to this the arcade, and we usually don’t leave till midnight.”

“Can’t Steve take em?” Tommy steals another fry. Carol swats him in the chest. “What?” He chews. “Boyfriend tax.”

“Steve works the late shift.” You shrug. “And it’s my weekend.”

“My weekend.” Tina imitates. “Why does everything always fall on your weekend?”

You frown, wary of the fallout between your friends. “He’s going through a lot.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but his thoughts are kept quiet.

“He is.”

“We know,” Carol mumbles. “We know.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interaction, unaware of the events that ripped Tommy, Carol, and Steve apart. “Well,” She shrugs. “If you get off the hook early you can show up.”

You nod, reaching down to pick your bag from the ground at the mention of the boys. “Of course,” you push from your seat. “I’ll be right back, don’t miss me.”

“We will.” Tina takes a fry from Derek’s plate. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The walk over to the boys table isn’t embarrassing, but it is uncomfortable. Your mind spins the whole cafeteria looking at you, wondering what is she doing? Why is she associating with them.

You flick Mike in the head when you reach. He doesn’t seem to mind, flicking your knee, but you look up guiltily anyways when you hear Eddie scoff.

“Hello?” He huffs, annoyed. This was a first. Sending a girl to do the terrorizing instead of Jason. Maybe he was absent, maybe he called you and asked can you do me a favor?

“Hi,” you nod at the older boy. You don’t know his age, but you where you are a first time senior, he is not. You don’t like the glare he fixes you with, sitting, waiting expectantly, like you’ll do something.

He’s pretty in his own way. Soft brown eyes, big curly hair. Any girl would be quick to swoon at his usual easy flirt personality.

Or maybe that’s just you.

You smile at him anyways while Dustin looks up from his picked at lunch tray.

“Hi, buddy.” Your warm hand glides over the Dustin’s cool forehead. He fusses as you smooth his curls.

“Stop,” he swats with the coolness of a teenager.

Eddie nearly jumps to scare you away, and he could. Dark black eyeliner, enough silver to shine a mile away, he’s easily intimidating. Especially when his face holds this expression of expectant distain.

Your eyes crinkle at Dustin’s flustered embarrassment. “How’re you, kid?” Its directed towards Mike and Dustin.

“Been better.” Dustin huffs at the same time Mike shrugs a fine.

You nod, hands stuffed into the oversized pockets of your varsity jacket as you roll on your heels. “You have Biology next?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Dustin shoulders droop.

“You normally love that class.”

“Not today,” he sighs, sickeningly morose as he looks up at you. “Can’t find my book anywhere.”

You frown. “That’s not good.”

He doesn’t react to the bluntness of the statement. “Tell me about it.”

“You check under your bed?” You tilt your head.

“And my moms.”

“Your backpack?”

“First place I checked, obviously.” The end of the sentence comes out with less attitude than he meant.

“Hmm,” you hum, Dustin doesn’t notice the glint in your eyes that Eddie does. “My car?” You smile.

His shoulders drop, relief and embarrassment mingling together clashingly. “You bozo.”

You pull it from the shoulder bag you currently carry. It thuds to the table loudly, but nobody outside the table seems to notice. “I know, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” He snatches the book quickly.

You smile. “Nobody’s trying to take it from you.”

Settling into your spot, you watch as Dustin shoves his book into his bag carelessly, and ignore the upset feeling of Eddie looking at you over the younger boys back. Searching the expression, you can’t find anything nice in it. Your tummy flips uncomfortably. “Well,” you nod to Dustin. “Don’t die before biology.”

“Noted,” he salutes, and you have to stop yourself from wrinkling your nose in cringe. Teen boys.

Eddie notices of course, his guard standing strong.

“Wait!” Dustin panics before you fully walk from the situation. “Steve can’t pick me up today.”

Harrington? Eddie thinks. The fuck is Dustin doing with Harrington?

“You need a ride?” You offer, but not really offer, cause you won’t let him decline.

“That-“

“I can give you a ride,” Eddie interrupts loudly, standing from his plastic seat. His fingertips push into the cold, sticky, table. “I’m not doing anything after school.”

And it’s not that you don’t trust Eddie, but who lets their children get in cars with strangers? Especially strangers in scary looking band tees.“Oh, it’s fine.” you look down at the geeky teen below you. “Right, Dustin?”

The younger boy nods. “It’s cool.”

“No, really,” Eddie continues, doing what he thinks is a favor to Dustin. “it’s no problem.”

Mike giggles from where he sits.

“Dude,” Dustin laughs confusedly. “It’s cool.”

And Eddie sits back down.

“Meet me at my car.” You point at the boys. “Don’t be late.”

And with that you turn, all the way back to your preferred table.

“That was weird.” Eddie laughs uncomfortably when you’re out of hearing distance. The whole table looks at him silently. “What?”

“We’re friends with her.” Mikes eyes zoom in. Eddie sweats.

“Didn’t you see her glare at me?” Eddie’s eyes scrunch in confusion. “And when have we ever associated with that group?”

“We’ve been through shit.” Dustin shrugs. “She’s cool.”

“And Harrington.”

Dustin shrugs again, hesitant with his next words. “He’s cool too.”

Jeff laughs loudly at Eddie. “You’re looking for a reason to be paranoid.”

“You sure your weed is clean?” Gareth chimes in teasingly.

“Fuck off.” Eddie sighs slumping in his seat. His eyes eyes lead back to you as the boys move on. He saw you glare. “They’re like a curse.”

“Who?” Gareth laughs.

“Them.” He waved dismissively towards you. “The cheerleaders.”

“She was nice.” Jeff shrugs.

“Nice until they’re not.” His head shakes seriously.

“Nice to look at.” Comes in Gareth quickly.

Jeff high fives him under the table, but Eddie ignores. The Cheerleader Curse.

A good campaign name.

“I don’t think Eddie likes me very much.” You sit back down at the table.

“The freak?” Carol asks. Tina side kicks her, shaking her head in don’t be mean.

“Yeah,” Your bag drops to the floor. “He was looking at me weird.”

“Maybe he wants in your pants.” Tommy shrugs, unconcerned. Carol swats him again.

“Gross,” She rolls her eyes. “But I did hear he has a reputation.” She pauses, glancing back at him. “Somehow.”

You look up at your friends. “What kind of reputation?”

“I heard he sleeps around.” Carol shrugs.

“I heard,” Tina chimes in, leaning into the group. “That he sells drugs in the woods.”

“He does.” Tommy shrugs. “He’s weird, but his weed isn’t shit.”

Tina sits back. “What’s his price?”

The conversation gets placed on back hold in your mind. Briefly, you debate looking back, ultimately turning to peek over your shoulder. What couldn’t he like about you? Had your nonexistent interaction turned him off of the idea of getting to know you?

For some funny reason, the thought sits in your gut uncomfortably.

“You good?” Carol reaches over the table to lightly pinch your arm. “We gotta call the Nurse?”

“No.” The shake of your head is adamant. “No, m’good.”

“Seriously,” Tommy shrugs. “He’s just weird, don’t let it bother you.”

You nod placid. “Yeah,” Your eyes flit to Eddie, before back to your friends again. “You’re right.”

“That’s my girl.” Tina’s knee knocks with yours.

You smile convincingly, nodding to your friends words. It’s hard for you to focus after that, mind clouded by the mean boy 6 tables away. You don’t look back again, don’t peek.

And somehow, Carol can see right through you.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

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ideasarestuckinmyhead · 5 months ago

Note

Can I get an imagine for an AU where Sugarboo was the one to kill Derek?

Like,,, Alphonse and Seth both survive (albeit wounded), Auron pays off the cops to stop investigating as a token of thanks, but now Sugarboo has to tell their boys that they killed someone.

Oh the ANGST!! Bc how do you tell the two people that didn't want your hands to get blood on them that you killed the guy that started all of this?

I think it's similar to how Jessie got found with blood all over her. Sugarboo is just looking at the two smiling wide as they give Boo horrified looks.

"I needed to protect you two....I'm so sorry." Whispering out as Sugarboo clutches the gun in their hand. Alphonse wishes he never had it in his car now, and Seth is frozen in place.

"Boo?"

"Sugar....oh no..."

The two men don't know how to feel, as they watched Boo start crying. Causing them to finally move and go to hug their third, who began sobbing into the arms of the two.

Auron, hears this all. Guilt is all in his head as he started making phone calls. Then after a while he finally walks out, Boo noticed him first and the red head speaks.

"I'll make sure your protected from the law. You three should go, I'll handle everything else." Telling the three Auron then walked a bit away. As his phone is clutched in his hands, rings are heard and he speaks quietly into the phone.

Alphonse was about to speak but, Seth held him back. So, taking his word they went back to the apartment. Jessie was standing out front on a phone call, when seeing their car her face turned to shame.

Seth ignored her as she opened her mouth and just helped Sugarboo out the car. Sharply taking in a breath Jessie saw the blood, but looked away when Seth threw a glare. Alphonse opened the door to the apartment and helped Seth walk Boo in.

Charlie was inside, sitting on the couch with his concussion he had. But stayed completely silent as the trio walked in. Boo looked shaken as they sat on the couch across from him.

Seth whispered something to them as he gently took the gun from their hands. Alphonse walked away and began a bath, both men were quietly talking to each other.

"Boo, come on let's get you cleaned up." Whispering to his lover, they stood up and followed him to the bath. Seth went into the kitchen and began patching up his wounds. Finally placing a ice pack on his head where he got hit in the back of it.

Alphonse then emerged from the bathroom and did the same. He held a bag where it held Boo's bloody clothes, giving Seth a nod he walked out the apartment. Going through the door he heard Jessie cussing someone out, she was getting heated while on the phone.

"I should have fucking killed that bastard! You red headed fuck..........you better make sure this doesn't get tout and make their life perfect again!" She then clicked the phone harshly. Gripping her hair as she tried and steady her breathing, then looked up.

"Hey....Ma." Mumbling Alphonse glanced at her. The older woman fixed her composer and smiled tired. Then saw the bag and held out her hand.

"I'll handle that, it's their clothes ain't it?" Asking got her a nod in response and she took the bag. Then went to the van, grabbing more. "I'll burn the clothes, just make sure sugar is eased. They can have these, they'll fit." Gently giving the clothes Jessie then walked away.

Choosing to just have a bit of peace, Alphonse went back inside. He saw Seth without his jacket, coming out of the bedroom. Giving the sad eyed man a smile Alphonse held up the clothes given to him.

"These are for Boo. Can you give them to 'em? I need to patch myself up." The brown haired man nodded and walked away with the clothes. Beginning to heal himself the pinkette finally noticed the blonde on the couch.

"Hey, Chuck. Your head good?" Worried slightly, he decided to ask. Charlie flinched being addressed but nodded, he didn't want to say anything right now.

As Alphonse got himself fixed up, he heard crying coming from the bedroom. Both Seth's and Boo's, looking down he held his face. How the fuck are they going to deal with this now?

#red rants #yuurivoice #red reblogs #red answers #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth #red writes

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agent-leighreid · 11 months ago

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BAU TEAM MEMBERS...

...BEING JEALOUS OVER YOU

-Part one of two

-f!reader

-!!TW!! Mentions of rape and murder. Sexual innudenos.

-Y/n (Your name)

-Y/l/n (Your last name)

-Written in Y/n's POV (unless mentioned otherwise)

-Part one of two includes Emily, Hotch and Spencer.

-Part two of two includes, Derek, JJ and Garcia.

EMILY PRENTISS

"Okay Morgan, she's going to a Nightclub tonight, scouting for another victim no doubt..I need you to-"

"Charm? No problem Hotch, it's in my blood." Derek said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I rolled my eyes, playfully hitting his shoulder. He chuckled, swatting me away, I raised my hand to attempt to 'hit' him again, but before I could continue, Garcia was calling in.

"Go ahead Garcia" Hotch said, putting it on speaker.

"A little birdy told me, that my Morgan is going undercover at a nightclub to flirt with an unsub?" she questioned.

"Don't worry baby, you're still my number one girl.." Derek spoke, smiling.

I glanced up at Emily and saw her smile, radiant as ever. She met my eyes and if I didn't look away, those pools of perfection would've had mine locked in place forever.

"Oh I had no doubt about that!" Garcia's response brought me back into orbit. "But that's not my issue, sugar" she said.

"What is it Garcia?" Hotch asked, growing slightly impatient.

"Our unsub is a lesbian." she stated.

Everyone's eyebrow raised, and through the corner of my eye I saw Emily look up at me.

"That explains her victimology, could be surrogates for an ex, or a girl who never liked her back.." JJ said.

"Or she could be acting out on her internalised homophobia" Reid suggested. "She grew up Catholic right? Recently Catholic churches have reached out to LGBT members to offer support..but that wouldn't have been the case for her growing up, most likely her parents tried to take her to therapy or they might've even tried to exorcise the homosexuality out of her..she's been manipulated into thinking who she is is evil, and wrong when in actuality she was just never accepted." he said. "Murdering these women is a way of killing that part of herself that no one, not even God, had been able to rid her of. She's trying to compensate for her so called “sins”. "

A small wave of silence washed over the room in the police precinct.

"Well, Y/l/n? Prentiss? Which of you is happy to do it?" Hotch asked, as Derek sadly sat back down.

Again, another small wave of silence until I grew confident and spoke up. "I'll do it." I said.

Yes, I was voluntarily putting myself in harms way but..

Number 1, it's my job

And Number 2, I can show Em I'm not just for the gentlemen.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, we gotta catch this bitch right? And plus, I match the victimology better.." I responded, glancing up at the crime scene photos, my stomach sinking slightly.

"Okay, let's get ready" He said, walking off.

I was given a black satin dress, running from my shoulders to just above my knees. It had lace sleeves and was pretty thin. I shivered as I stepped out of the toilet that I changed in, my given high heels clicking along the floor of the precinct as I walked. While I never wore high heels, they weren't that hard to get used to.

(A/n: that's a fucking lie they're the worst shoes to ever be invented. Torture. And for what?)

I entered back into the room that we were set up in, whiteboards with speculations filling up the space and paperwork littering the desks.

I placed the handbag I was also given on one of the desks, putting my gun and badge inside.

A wolf whistle pulled me from my thoughts as the rest of the team walked in. The whistle came from Derek as he walked in smiling, Emily not far behind him, glaring in his direction. The rest of the team followed close behind, and we went over the plan.

Hotch and Morgan would also be in the nightclub watching over me and the unsub, while Emily, JJ, Spencer and Rossi, along with a number of officers from the police station, waited in SUV's outside. Watching through CCTV and listening through shared ear pieces.

The team got ready and walked out to the SUV's, the cold air hitting me like a brick; the dress wasn't exactly the thickest material in the world. I stopped in my tracks and folded my arms, feeling goosebumps.

"Want my jacket, Y/l/n?" Emily asked, coming up behind me, her warm hand placed gently on the small of my back.

My eyes met hers and I had to thank the city lights for hiding the blush that flushed onto my face.

"Oh, are you sure?" I asked, proud of my voice for staying steady.

"Of course! And hey, it goes with the dress.." she said, draping it over my shoulders as she looked me up and down, before entering one of the SUV's.

I had no idea if I fantasised that last part, but by the way Derek smirked at me while he walked past, wiggling his eyebrows as he followed Emily into the SUV, told me that I didn't.

I got into the other SUV, and we drove to the Nightclub.

I walked inside, music blaring in my ears, making them ache slightly. I glanced over the room and walked to the bar after JJ telling me she was there. I spotted her, and slowly approached the bar.

She sat fiddling with the little umberella in her drink.

"Can I just grab a lemonade please?" I asked the bartender.

The unsub watched me from her seat as I turned to face the dance floor, my arms resting on the bar.

"You not a drinker?" She said, initiating conversation.

Play it cool, Y/n.

"Me? Oh..nah." I said, turning in her direction.

The bartender slid me the lemonade.

"Thank you" I said, digging through my handbag for the money.

The unsub layed her hands on mine, stopping me from looking.

"Let me get this for you." she smiled.

I smiled "...oh, thank you" I said, my tone steady.

"It's no problem, why don't you drink?" The unsub asked, leaning toward me a little.

"Oh...my dad was an alcoholic.." I admitted to her, sheepishly looking down at my lemonade.

"Ugh, Dad's. Don't you hate them" she said, moving one of her legs on top of the other. "Or just...men in general.."

I saw Hotch a few feet down the bar, eyeing us up. "Yup.." I said, popping the 'p'.

"So many treat thier daughters terribly.." she said, taking another sip of her drink.

I didn't respond, but held my gaze.

"I bet I could treat you better.." she said, rubbing her high heel along my calf. "So much better than any man.."

My eyebrow arched as I copied her earlier move of leaning toward her.

"Oh yeah? How would you do that?" I asked, lightly biting the straw of my drink.

She smiled, her eyes growing hungry.

"Firstly.." she started, getting up off the stool.

EMILY'S POV

"Firstly.." she got up off her stool and took another step closer to Y/n.

"I'd show you how much of a princess you are.." she said, running her tongue along her teeth.

"Ew." I said, audibly. JJ, Spencer and Rossi drew their faces away from the computer and looked at me.

"What?" I asked. They said nothing and returned back to watching the unsub, while my eyes darted back to Y/n again.

"What then?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Oh then?" the unsub replied. "You'll just have to wait and see..." she said, paying with the lace of Y/n's sleeves.

I felt my heart leap into my throat.

"Can we go in already?" I asked, impatiently.

"Morgan and I are slowly etching toward them, be ready." Hotch replied.

I let out a breath and made sure my gun was loaded.

"Oh alright Y/l/n.." I heard JJ say, her eyebrows were raised, she sounded impressed.

I looked up from my gun "What?" I asked.

She pointed to Y/n just in time for me to see her tucking in some of the unsub's hair behind her ear.

The grimace on my face was painfully obvious, but I didn't care. I felt my chest roaring with flames of....I don't know what. Watching Y/n like that with someone else just didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was the fact that she was an unsub.

I watched the screen and saw the unsub pouring something in Y/n's drink, Y/n's vision blocked by the unsub's hand that she placed on her face.

"Hotch!?" I questioned, already making my way out of the SUV.

"I saw it, go." he responded.

"Already at the door."

Y/N'S POV

I heard her crush something in my drink, and my smile grew as I masked the slight fear creeping in.

"You're so beautiful" she said, stroking my cheek.

I giggled and reached inside my bag, pulling out my gun. "You're not, F.B.I" I said.

She turned to lose me in the crowd, but was met with Hotch right behind her. Morgan, JJ, Reid, Rossi, the police and Emily all filtered through the party goers, with thier guns pointed at our unsub.

The crowd of clubbers dispersed, some running out of the club, others huddling and watching from the sides.

She huffed putting her hands up. Emily holstered her gun and forcefully pushed down the unsub's arms, tightening the handcuffs around her wrists. "You're under arrest for the murder of 4 women, you have the right to remain silent-"

"I know my rights!" the unsub spat.

"Let's hope you do." Emily replied, shoving her toward a police officer to escort her to a cruiser.

I watched her leave, standing at the bar.

Emily turned to me, placing her hand gently on my elbow. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.

I looked to her and smiled. "Yeah, I'm good" I smiled.

She looked down at my drink, the powder still visible. "I was scared you were gonna take another sip.." she admitted.

My heart fluttered. "I heard her crush it.." I said sheepishly.

"Crush it?" She asked.

"Yeah, it must've been like a pill or something..I don't know" I said.

Emily met my eyes again, her pupils dilating as she took in my features.

"Actually pills are pretty hard to crush, unless it was specifically made, she would have struggled to crush it without atleast looking like she was trying to. She may have snapped the pill if it had a casing on it but I don't think that's what we're dealing with. Due to how packed the powder is within a pill, a human's finger strength isn't enough to crush it how you thought she would have. Have you ever tried to crush an egg with just one hand? It's basically the same thing-"

"Reid.." Morgan smiled.

"Yeah?" he asked. Morgan just shook his head.

Reid looked back at Emily and I and noticed how neither of us were processing the information he was giving, we were just looking in each other's eyes. We were staring at one another a little too long to just be friends.

"Oh.."

AARON HOTCHNER

Was flirting with my boss unprofessional? Yes.

Was I certain I was one lip bite away from getting fired? Also yes.

Did I care? That's another story.

I sat next to Morgan on the jet as we ran through what we had and attempted to get as much information about the unsub as possible before landing in Detroit.

"Well this guy surely isn't organized, his work is sloppy. It's like he doesn't care about getting caught" Hotch said.

"But evidences suggest that he is organised. He's taken forensic countermeasures to ensure we can't ID him..." Rossi spoke from his seat.

"Well...I wouldn't care if it was you taking me into custody either, Hotchner." I said, looking up at him and smiling.

He licked his lips, staying slient. "Morgan, Reid, go the crime scene. Rossi, Prentiss and JJ, talk to the victim's families..see what you can gather. Y/l/n, you're with me at the station." he said.

"Alright Hotch! Friendly remarks aren't a crime now are they?" I asked, holding up my hand sin defence.

"If you're not careful they will be, and plus..they were hardly friendly.." he said, walking off to sit in his seat.

"He loves it really." I say to the rest of the team, as they either hid thier smiles or unshamefully giggled at my antics.

We landed in Detroit and separated, each of us leaving for where Hotch wanted us to go, of course, he kept me by his side. Can't help it can he?

"So are we just gonna set up and wait for the others?" I asked, walking to our given room at the precinct.

"No, not exactly. The Detriot Police already have a suspect in custody.." He said, nodding toward the interrogation room.

"And you were gonna tell the team when exactly?" I asked, looking through the glass.

"They know, I had Garcia notify them as they made their way to where they needed to be. You and I, are gonna crack this guy. Even if he didn't kill and rape those 3 women...he's got something on him.." He said.

I raised my eyebrow. "Let me guess, I should be the one to talk to him?" I said, tilting my head slightly.

Hotch stepped closer to me. "Steven Oaks. He's a typical Alpha Male, one who doesn't lack dominance, he's unlikely to talk with someone a bit too...similar." he said.

I matched his movements and turned to face him too. "So what are you saying, Hotch? You afraid your “Alpha” persona's gonna rub him off the wrong way?" I mocked.

"Not at all, I'm just saying he might take pleasure in talking to someone a little more...submissive" he said, glancing from my eyes to my lips again and again.

I let out a breath and bit my tongue. "Is this an order?" I asked.

He didn't respond, he just held his gaze, and so I stared right back. His eyes, though often darting south, were never drawn away by nearby policemen.

I shook my head. "Pfft, fine. What's my tactic, Hotch?" I asked, approaching the glass and getting a good read of the guy before going in.

"Just see what you can find out.." He said, his arms folded.

I approached the door and entered, not before undoing just one more button of my shirt.

"Listen man i-"

I smiled warmly. "Last time I checked, I wasn't a man.." I said, sitting across from him.

He smirked and leant back in his seat. Relaxed already.

"No..no you are not" he said, his smile not fading.

"Ma'am, I can assure you, I had nothing to do with those 3 women, okay?" he said, sitting up.

"Oh we know, well- I know.." I sheepishly smiled, playing into whatever persona I threw on as I walked in.

"I know what kinda man you are...you wouldn't kill.." I said, my smile not faulting as I began to brush his leg with the tip of my shoe.

He took a breath in. "Oh yeah?" he asked, biting his lip.

As much as this was killing me, I had to play along. It's all fun and games flirting with your boss whom you know (and cherish on that note) but it's another thing doing it with a creep that you're certain should be in a cage.

"So...tell me Steven. How many people are in your gang?" I asked. If I'm totally honest, it was a shot in the dark, the only thing I had to go off was the badly covered up tattoo on his forearm. It was the symbol of a pretty wanted gang in the area after they moved from Canada down to Detriot.

"Oh I have a gang do I?" he asked.

"I assume so, you seem like the type of guy who.. likes to be in charge.." I said, running my foot just that tiny bit higher.

"I am." he said.

I kept my gaze fixed.

He smirked again. "Mulier vivit ut serviat viro suo et viri qui in circuitu eius sunt."

(A/n: I used Google translate, do not quote me that that was a correct translation)

This time, I leaned back and drew away my foot. "A woman lives to serve her husband and the men who surround her." I said, translating what he said. The way this gang was first noticed, was through an investigation of rapes. Each woman was left with a word printed out on an A4 peice of paper, until the rapes stopped and the police were able to form a sentence.

“A woman lives to serve her husband and the men who surround her.”

By the look on his face, he wasn't expecting me to know Latin.

He smirked again though, drawing his eyes away from my face, to my chest.

"Oh the things I would've done to you..." he whispered, his voice low and his breath repulsive.

He leaned forward more, reaching out his hand, probably to stroke my cheek, but before I could move Hotch stormed in, slamming his hands on the table.

"Touch my Agent, or even think about it, and I swear to you, I have a registered Glock 17 in my holster with a new box bullets that I will personally fire into every single one of your limbs, until any low life friends you do have, won't be able to identify your body. The only thing left of you will be those already rotting teeth." He said, his voice stern.

Steven sat back in his chair, unimpressed. Hotch took me by the hand, and placed his other on my waist guiding me to the door.

"Was that a threat, Agent?" Steven asked as Aaron was about to shut the door.

"No." he said. "That was a promise." he said, slamming it instead.

"Are you okay?" he asked as soon as we were back in the BAU's room at the precinct.

"Yes." I smiled. "Didn't you want more dirt on that guy anyway? I mean...was the quote even enough to nail him?" I asked.

"The words left with each of the rape victims were never released to the public, the only people who would know that phrase are the Detectives who worked the case, or the gang members themselves..are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, taking a step forward. It was hesitant, compared to his pervious one.

I closed the gap between us, laying my hands on his chest. "Aaron Hotchner, I am fine. I was doing my job." I said, looking up at him.

He almost leaned in to my touch as he took a deep breath. "If you need to tap out of the case I will happily-"

"Aaron." I interrupted him.

"We've put away a freak, let's work on the unsub we were called in for, okay?" I asked.

His hand found itself at the small of my back, his thumb rubbing soft circles.

"Just let me know.." He said, before turning around away from me, just in time as Reid and Morgan walked in.

SPENCER REID

"-It's all maths really.." Spencer had climbed out of his pool of facts and statistics. He was trying to convince Hotch to let him come into the casino with me.

"And plus if..if anything happens then she won't be left on her own.." he said, glancing at me.

"Not that you wouldn't be able to handle yourself..I was simply-"

"Spence." I cut him off smiling.

"Hotch said you come in with me 5 minutes ago." I said.

"He did?" he turned his head to where Hotch was standing.

"Get ready" Hotch said, before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

Spencer turned to me and sheepishly smiled. That same smile in which I'd fallen for.

I exited the room also, to change into something more...gold digger appropriate. Wasn't exactly my style. I wasn't the type to dress so provocatively but if it's to catch a killer, I'll wear anything. I changed out of my shirt and got into the dress I was given, squeezing into the high heels and attempting to but on the mascara.

I huffed in the mirror after slipping for the third time.

"You..need some help with that?" Emily asked, walking into the changing room.

I smiled. "Please" I said, holding it out for her.

She took it and began applying it. "You're telling me you don't ever wear mascara?" she asked, concentrating.

"No? Have seen me with mascara? Or any makeup for that matter?" I asked.

"Well lucky for some...natural beauty and all that.." she said, turning to my other eye.

"Oh please" I said, waving her off.

"What?" she asked, almost offended. "You're gonna tell me you're not beautiful? Because I know I certain man with an IQ of 187 and interestingly enough, his intelligence gets slashed to 60 when he sees you for the first time in the mornings.." she said, smirking.

I tried to hide my blush, but that was hard considering she was right in my face. She turned my head with her fingers and examined her work. "There all done." she said, turning me to the full length mirror, taking in my appearance as a whole.

"Jeez that's a look" I said, slightly grimacing. "I mean...it'd look great on someone else I just don't know how I feel about it.."

"Well you're gonna have to embrace it!" She said, walking out. I followed close behind. "And besides you actually look really hot" she said, winking at me.

I laughed. "Don't let JJ hear you say that.."

Her mouth gaped and she hit me on the shoulder.

"Okay, we're ready" Emily said, as we walked back in to the room.

The others gawked at my outfit, never expecting to see me in something like it, even Hotch raised his eyebrows momentarily.

"Damn, pretty girl" Garcia said from the computer.

"Thanks Penny" I smiled. "Where's..Spencer...or Reid, sorry.." I asked.

"Oh he's just coming we gave him something to wear aswell" Hotch said, pointing to the door.

Spencer walked in, he wore a black jacket with matching trousers and a white shirt, with a number of the buttons undone. His hair a little less styled than before, and a bit messier.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks in a frenzy, and the fabric around my chest got a little tighter.

"Sorry, I know what time the unsub gets to the casino and I didn't have time to do my hair..." he said, fiddling with a number of strands.

Too flustered to speak, I just did the first thing I thought of. I walked over and ruffled his hair up more. "You look beautiful." I said, and walked out immediately.

My eyes were popped out of my head as I walked away, the team following close behind me.

Morgan began walking next to me. "What was that?" He giggled.

"Derek." I warned, my blush still hadn't faded from when Spencer walked in.

SPENCER'S POV

"Sorry, I know what time the unsub gets to the casino and I didn't have time to do my hair..." I said, trying my best to fix it.

That's when my heart stopped. Y/n walked over, in a dress I'd never imagine her in. I'm sure she wouldn't have put herself in the dress either, but that's not to deny how beautiful she looked.

Sure, her persona for tonight was: 'flirt with and rub up the guy with the most money' (our unsub) but she looked like an angel to me.

"Reid!" Garcia snapped me out of my thoughts from her spot on the computer.

"Go! Everyone left with Y/n when she walked past you" she said, smirking. She disappeared off the screen and I scurried out of the room, catching up with everyone.

Y/N'S POV

"Here are your ear peices, they're small enough so no one will notice." Hotch said.

I put mine in, as did Spencer.

"Okay, Y/n you go inside first, all you need to do is steal his phone, it should be in the inside pocket of his blazer.." Hotch said.

"So my pick-pocketing childhood has payed off.." I said, jokingly.

I made my way inside the casino and let myself settle in. I'm here to find a man with a big prize pot. A specific man anyway.

I wandered from one end of the casino to the other latching onto winners of games until I finally noticed the unsub sat at a poker table.

I looked behind me, noticing Spencer just entering the casino. He saw me, we locked eyes. I reluctantly teared mine away and went and stood behind the unsub.

"Well isn't that a bad hand? Surely you should fold.." I said, looking down at the straight in his hand.

"Call." said the others at the table.

The unsub looked up at me and smirked as he showed the dealer his straight, winning the pot. He handed me a bill. "Why don't you go get us some drinks for the next game sweetheart? A scotch for me if you don't mind.." he said.

I made sure to be overly touchy. "Sure thing" I said, strutting away.

I made my way over to the bar, where Spencer was. "Can I have a lemonade and a Scotch please?" I said, making sure to not drop the act I'd put on.

"Is that Poker over there?" Spencer spoke up.

I faced him. "It sure is, takes a lot of luck.." I said, walking off with the drinks.

Spencer followed. "Or intelligence." he said, beating me to the table and sitting down.

I passed the unsub his drink and we clinked glasses.

The dealer dealt everyone their cards, including Spencer this time around.

Everyone took a brief look at thier cards, and each man tapped the table. They all called.

The dealer flipped over the three cards, resulting in two of the men to fold, the only ones in the game now were the unsub and Spencer.

"C'mon baby, you got this.." I whispered, not so quitely in the unsub's ear, running my hands in and out of his blazer, passing off as just really horny. The game continued as I felt up this little freak until I eventually felt the phone and managed to slip it out, unnoticed.

"I'll raise.." the unsub said, throwing in an abundance of chips.

I looked up at Spencer, trying to tell him that he could fold already as I had the phone.

Instead, he watched me fiddle with the collar of the unsub's blazer.

He said nothing, and just placed the chips in, seeing the unsub's raise.

"Okay, cards?" the dealer asked.

The unsub layed his cards down. "Full House.." the unsub said, smiling.

Spencer didn't even look at the dealer as he placed his cards down, his eyes were glued to mine. "Royal Flush.." he said, his head tilted slightly.

I of course had to keep up my act, so while running my hands down his arms, I slowly walked away from the unsub and over to Spencer, wrapping my hands around him this time.

"Well aren't you lucky?" I said.

He faced me. "It's all maths really" he said, placing his hand over mine as it layed on his chest.

"What do you say I cash in these chips and we...get ourselves outta here" he said, standing up, and turning to face me, his hands snaking around my waist.

I bit my tongue and further closed the gap between us. "Okay" I said. At this point I didn't even need to act turned on. I was.

SPENCER'S POV

We walked, arms linked over to the cashier and exchanged the chips I had for the money.

"You won big tonight didn't you, son?" The cashier said, gathering the bands. I looked at Y/n, examining every inch of her perfect skin.

"I did.."

We made our way out of the casino, and walked down the road a little, before hustling into the SUV.

"Y/n you got the phone didn't you?" Hotch said, his angry eyes not leaving mine until she pulled it out.

"Oh but of course Agent Hotchner" she said, passing it to him.

I faced her again, the dim light in the SUV glowing down on her like she was the center of the universe..well...she was the center of mine anyway.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader #female reader

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hotchy-poo · 5 months ago

Text

Five Minutes

a/n: This is my literal first ever piece of fanfiction I've ever written so bare with me please, any and all feedback I would love. This is based off of season 3 episode 20 Lo-Fi.

Summary: The final moments of a terrorism case and too many close calls leaves the reader more shaken than usual.

GN!reader x BAU!Team, some slight Hotch x Reader, maybe Morgan x Reader if you look hard enough.

Word Count: 1.7k

cw: some swearing, discussions of death and explosions

You can hear your heart thudding in your chest, it feels like your ears are ringing but you can still clearly hear the sounds of the shoes and boots you and most of your team were wearing. Dave and Hotch had pieced it together that the profile your team had been putting together was wrong, it wasn't a trio or duo of serial killers, it was a home grown terrorism attack, and it was going to take place in a hospital in downtown New York. The hospital you and your team are currently in. Almost your entire attention is being put towards sweeping the parking lot searching for the terrorist ambulance driver.

The rest of your brain was occupied with two thoughts. 1. Where the hell is Derek Morgan and 2. That surveillance video of Kate Joyner's SUV blowing up, sending her and Hotch flying. He's behind you now, you can hear the change in his gait, his limp from the shrapnel cutting its way into his leg. You also know his face is scratched to hell and his ear is bleeding. Part of you wishes he would have sat this out due to his injuries but everyone knows he's allergic to taking care of himself.

Turning the corner, gun in hand, finger on trigger, you shake those last two thoughts from your head. All focus needs to be on this current situation. Reid nods towards the elevator and you see the dead special service agents lying there covered in blood. One of their legs in the way of the door preventing it from closing all the way.

Your attention is then drawn to a man who is sitting on the concrete floor with his legs crossed. A phone in one hand and a knife in the other. The team surrounds him, guns raised and ready. You notice his EMS uniform and know this is one of the UnSubs, the master bomber. You also notice the lack of ambulance with a bomb that would decimate this hospital and surrounding buildings. The bomber decides he won't be arrested and uses the knife to end his life, proving that he would kill and be killed for his cause.

A faint explosion is heard far in the distance as Hotch calls in that the hospital is secure. The tension could be felt in everyone's chest as they turned their heads to the sound, making eye contact with others, panic visible in their expressions. Reids phone rings and he immediately answers, only a second passing before his whole body sags with relief as he hears Morgans voice on the other side letting him know he is ok and the bomb exploded in a safe location away from the city and its residents. Relief fills your chest as you realize everyone is safe and that another case has come to an end. And while it may not have been the ending anyone wanted, it was over and you looked forward to leaving this experience in the past.

You had barely gotten enough sleep in your hotel room, expecting to have passed out from exhaustion from the events of the case, but you found yourself thinking of all of the what ifs. What if Morgan hadn't of gotten to a safe location in the ambulance, or what if he hadn't gotten out in time, what if Garcia couldn't have jammed the cell towers like she did, what if Hotch had been closer to the SUV or even inside of it. Tossing and turning all night left you quieter than usual in the morning and it was not unnoticed by your team.

Reid, Morgan, Garcia, Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi said their goodbyes and see you laters to you and Hotch outside the federal building. You offered to make the drive with the injured man and Morgan was more than happy to let you as he wanted to lay down on the flight and drink his Cristal. Keys in hand you and Hotch begin the walk to the black SUV you would be driving, subconsciously you brace for some sort of impact as you approach the vehicle and before you can try to play it off Hotchner is suddenly standing in front of you with a concerned look in his eye.

"Everything ok Agent L/N?" he asks raising his eyebrow.

You brush him off trying to step around him "yeah of course I'm fine." Hotch shuffles his feet and prevents you from walking away. "I'm just not super excited for the long drive Hotch, I'm good."

You hope that that was enough to sway him and you think is has as he lets you step around him. Just as you reach for the cars handle to throw your bag in the back, you feel his hand grasp your elbow and turn you to face him.

"You know" he begins "it's ok to be upset, what we all just went through in the past couple of days was hard and damaging, and its ok to feel conflicted, or sad, or angry." He moves his head trying to make eye contact with you but your eyes are firmly placed on the sidewalk. Knowing that if you try to explain what it is that you are feeling it might all come out as word vomit and your emotions might get the best of you.

"I'm good Hotch" you respond still not making eye contact "let's just go." You pull your arm out of his grasp before throwing yours and his bag in the back seat. Shutting the door you go to walk to the drivers side when Hotch calls your name.

"Y/N." Him saying your name doesn't leave room for you to walk away. You slowly turn to face him and you see his lips in a straight line and his eyebrows furrowed. He starts to walk towards you, his limp so prevalent and you can't keep it together anymore. Your eyes fill with tears threatening to spill over and you know that if you start to cry you won't be able to stop.

Hotch gently grabs your shoulder and sighs as he asks you again if you're ok and you can't keep your emotions and tears at bay any longer. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you try to speak.

"It's just... this case was so much... we thought we had it figured out and that we could catch them but they were always a step ahead of us" The tears keep rolling and you can't stop talking even if you wanted too. A sob breaks out of your mouth and you drop your head as your body shakes with your cries. "All I can think about is the what ifs, all I can see is that surveillance video of you being BLOWN up Hotch" You're aware that your voice is much louder than it needs to be and Hotch's ear rings and aches but he acts like it doesn't bother him. "You got flung across a street Hotch! Derek climbed into a goddamn ambulance with an explosive that would have decimated three blocks of this city at least!" Your breathing is erratic, chest falling and raising quickly. You're using your hands very expressively and Hotch grabs both of your arms to try and slow you down.

"I need you to breathe Y/N" he says but you're not listening.

"I thought you had died when I saw that video!" you sob. " And you weren't answering your phone!"

"I left it behind, I forgot about it" He responds "I didn't mean to I'm sorry" his voice is quiet and gentle.

"And then once we were in the hospital Derek took off like a madman and when the ambulance blew up I thought he was in it!" You are still almost yelling, the tears have not slowed at all, in fact they may have sped up. You keep rambling about how you thought you had lost Hotch and then how you thought you had lost Derek. Starting to stumble over your words you stop talking and just start to sob, pulling your hands up over your face.

Suddenly you're pulled into Hotch's chest, one arm wraps around the middle of your back securing you to him, and the other goes to the back of your head. You can his thumb moving on your back trying to calm you. You know your tears are staining his clothes but you can't seem to care, you also wouldn't be able to escape his hug even if you wanted to.

He holds you as you cry, not caring that you are on a busy sidewalk, ignoring peering eyes. His only concern right now is you.

"I know that this case was a lot Y/N" he begins "this case demanded a lot of us, and we were put into dangerous situations. But I'm ok" He moves his hands to grab the sides of your face and pull your head up so that you can look at each other. "Derek and I are ok, some healing time is necessary but we're alive and well."

Your cries have stopped and now you're just left with a runny nose. Sniffling you take a step out of the embrace allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. You let out a singular breathy laugh and wipe your face with your hands.

"You're right" you agree with him, Derek and Hotch are alive and that is what matters the most. "I'm still gonna kick Derek's ass for what he did."

Hotch exhales through his nose and cracks a small smile "why don't we start driving back to Quantico L/N, its a long journey ahead of us."

You nod and climb into the drivers seat of the car, immediately refusing his offer to drive. Turning the key in the ignition and plugging in the offices address into the GPS, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly as you turn on the blinker and pull out into traffic.

The car is silent for a few minutes before you decide to break it

"Hotch?" you ask. He turns his head to you, prompting you to continue, "promise me you won't tell the others that I just cried in your arms for a minute in the middle of down town New York?" You glance over at him and you see a small smirk form on his face.

"I would never" he responds. I also won't say that it was five minutes not one he thinks to himself.

a/n ok im kinda proud of this, and i hope i can articulate myself well enough, literally just watched this episode for the first time and i cried. if it sucks or you have any tips for me to write better please let me know! I really hope you enjoy it and I hope i get to make more fics hehe

#aaron hotch x reader #Morgan x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #jenifer jareau #emily prentiss #spencer reid #cm #penelope garcia #kate joyner #dave rossi #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months ago

Text

A Rite Of Passage: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: A case brings you to a small town in Texas that is close to Mexico's border. Someone is killing people who illegally cross the border, and he's a lot closer than you think.

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

Season Five Masterlist

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.

"A lion's work hours are only when he's hungry; once he's satisfied, the predator and prey live peacefully together." - Chuck Jones

"Hey, where's Hotch?" Emily asks when she walks into the briefing room.

"Budget meeting."

"Maybe he'll give us a raise," Derek jokes.

"They're cutting, not raising. I just hope they don't take the coffee."

"I'd quit," Spencer says.

"Oh, yeah. That'll save 'em like fifty bucks a week."

"Hotch will meet us on the plane," JJ says when she walks in.

"Where are we going?"

"Last night, three decapitated heads were found in front of a sheriff's station in the small border town of Terlingua, Texas."

She passes out the file on the victims which includes pictures of their crime scenes.

"Three victims at once?"

"Actually, they appear to be in different stages of decomposition."

"The ME confirmed that one of the heads is a day or so old. The other two appear to have died a few months ago, but the wound edges suggest that they were decapitated recently," JJ explains.

"There is dirt in their mouth, ears, and nose. At some point, these two heads were buried and then dug up."

"Okay, so why the sudden need to display them?" Emily asks.

"The need may not be so sudden. In Mexico, in 2009 alone, ten heads were in coolers and the people belonging to these heads were killed just hours before they were found. It's the result of a battle between feuding drug cartels."

"The DEA isn't interested?" you ask.

You'd think the Drug Enforcement Association would want a crack at this.

"They asked us to take a look at it. Considering the different decomposition, this might not even be about drugs."

"Alright, what do we have?"

"Well, the victims are two males and one female so there isn't a gender preference. Staging the heads in front of a sheriff's station is aggressive. All three victims are Hispanic and unidentified. Terlingua has a large illegal population. It's made IDing the victims that much harder."

"He might be trying to make some type of political statement. Volunteer border patrols do a lot of personal policing down there. Groups like the Minutemen prize law and order above everything else, and those patrols serve their political agenda. Murder would be bad for their image," Spencer explains.

"Staging the heads in front of a police station suggests that the unsub might be local. He'd have to have knowledge about how to do something like that without being seen. So, what we have is hundreds of miles of unincorporated desert and an endless supply of anonymous victims crossing the border every day."

"It's a serial killer's perfect storm," you sigh.

As JJ said, Hotch met you at the plane when he was done with his meeting.

"Explain this to me. The unsub hunts along the US-Mexico border. How big is that area?"

"Over five thousand square miles of desert," Spencer answers at the same time as you do.

The entire team stares at you two and you look away with heated cheeks.

"He could have gone undetected for years," Hotch says eventually.

"Why announce himself now?"

"What do we know about crime in Terlingua?" Rossi asks.

"It's a stop-over town. Immigrants stay only twenty-four hours before moving on, but that also makes them narco-trafficking hubs. Outside of immigration violations, most of the arrests are drug-related."

"That, my pretties, is an understatement." You look to your left and see Penelope's face on the screen. "Anyone familiar with the Lugo Cartel out of Baja, California? Their greatest hits include multiple brutal murders along with importing and distributing nearly two tons of cocaine and copious amounts of heroin between 1990 and 2009. Now, if we get in our BAU time machine, flash forward to now, a super cheap, highly addictive, and totally impure form of black tar heroin just showed up on the streets of Terlingua, and the DEA thinks the Lugo Cartel is directly responsible."

"They're expanding their operation which is often announced by a wave of violence. The Lugo Cartel killed two DEA agents last year. We're going to need to watch our backs. To Cartels, the Feds are fair game. There's even usually a bounty, so we're going to bring in the toys," Derek talks about the big weapons.

"Be careful with those. I don't need broken MP-5s on our budget," Hotch says.

"Guys, here's the thing. I don't think I technically have authorization to carry a weapon like that," Spencer says.

"You don't," Derek and Hotch say at the same time.

You reach over and put your hand on his arm. You want to grab his hand but he still has a gross ick when it comes to germs. Yes, he held your hand when you were going through it with prison but that was because he decided to. You don't want him to feel like his choice is being taken away when it comes to germs. Instead, you touch something much safer like his arm.

"You know, we're going to have a victim pool that is extremely hesitant to talk to us."

"Prentiss, you and Morgan start with the migrant community, see what inroads you can make. Stress that we're only there to catch a killer. Rossi, Y/N, and Reid, the ME is waiting to show you the heads."

"Maybe they can tell us something," you say.

The entire department only consists of five people including the sheriff. When Hotch and JJ got to the station, eight men were posted outside of it. The fact that they had eight despite there only being five officers inside shows that they outnumber them, asserting their dominance. Deputy Ronald Boyd isn't too worried about it only because those eight men are just a handful of men who work for Omar Morales, the head of the narco-trafficking ring. They picked him up this morning outside of town where he was heading to the airport.

Deputy Boyd would have talked to him only Sheriff Eva Ruiz wouldn't let her men talk to him. Hotch is worried about the men outside but she plans on ignoring them thinking they'll get hot and tired and go away on their own. The reason why she won't let her men talk to Omar is because she doesn't agree that they arrested the right man. The heads at the police station, in her opinion, are a message that demands for her to butt out. Just in the six months she's been Sheriff, there are more than twenty missing immigrants; that's more than three a month or one victim a week.

There hasn't been an official investigation because no one wants to be the snitch. However, she believes that someone has been killing for a lot longer than they let on. The Lugo Cartel kills to send a message, it's how they communicate but Eva seems to think otherwise.

You walk into the ME's office where there are heads in jars so that they can be preserved. You touch the side of the glass and allow the energy to paint you a picture. Fear. Desperation. The victims are running through the open desert as someone wearing a mask is chasing them on a quad made for the terrain. The victims are terrified for their lives but the unsub doesn't show any mercy.

"You know, contrary to popular belief, decapitation is not that easy," Spencer says, bringing you back.

"You don't often hear popular and decapitation In the same sentence," Rossi says.

"You'd need to strike on the weakest point of the spine. It's normally between the C3 and C7 vertebrae. There are multiple strikes but they don't show any hesitation."

"I realize you didn't have much to work with here but outside of the obvious, was there anything unusual about these victims?" Rossi asks the Me.

"The second victim appeared to have been blind, if not completely, then he had cataracts bad enough that it was difficult for him to get around."

"What about the other two?" you ask.

"No."

"I only had their teeth to go by but the most recent victim is older as well as the first one, the woman. It'll take some time to get an accurate age but I'm confident that they were older.'

"We're looking for something that we call a signature. Something that all the victims shared like a physical mark or something postmortem."

"I don't know if this is what you mean," she grabs the reports on them, "but they all had sand residue in their noses and throats."

"Could that be from being buried?" Spencer asks.

"Possibly, but the trachea and the nasal passage were kind of torn up. If I had the lungs here, I'd guess that they were full of sand as well like they breathed in the sand enough to lacerate the passages."

"They were running," you say. "The unsub chased them on quads through the desert. Trust me when I say he didn't show any mercy."

Hotch is able to talk to Omar who isn't too happy to talk to a Fed. Omar is cocky and arrogant only because he knows he or his crew didn't do these murders. If Omar had, he'd gut the victim from crotch to chin then leave the intestines open for the animals to eat. He'd send his hand to his wife, his eyes to his mother, and his tongue to his kids with a note saying their Daddy had died wetting himself. Omar doesn't believe that these murders are a message, none that he recognizes.

Hotch asks him about what he thought of the recent murders only because Omar likes to be a man in control. He has an army standing guard outside the station who will protect him because Omar has somehow convinced them that they need him, and Hotch expects to believe Omar doesn't know what's going on in his town? What Hotch is looking for, according to Omar, is Santa Muerte, the Saint of Death.

The Saint of Death is a drug dealer's version of a doctor's Raphael the Archangel or a cop's Saint Jude--someone they pray to. Omar has learned that someone loses track of the ways they can die when they cross the desert from Mexico. Sometimes, it's easier to blame a superstitious figure than someone real. Santa Muerte has been coming up more and more with the illegals Eva sends back, the coyotes she arrests, and the drug traffickers around town. All of them are afraid.

Evan once handled a homicide where her only witness was a four-year-old girl. She told Eva that her mom and dad were killed by a dragon. It turned out that the bad guy wore a green rainsuit with a pointy hood. To the little girl, it looked like a dragon. So, when hundreds of people are talking about the same monster, it's a sure bet that something is going on. They don't know what to call it so they settle on Santa Muerte.

With a town like this, you're not surprised that by the next morning, another murder has surfaced. This time, there is a head on a post right outside the Sheriff's house. The team heads over there along with some of her own men. You get there before her men do and you approach the head that hasn't been moved. You slide some gloves on and touch the side of his face delicately. This man was trying to cross the border last night with his family. He fell to the ground after not being able to continue either because he couldn't physically or he was sick. It doesn't matter. He was the only one left behind so the unsub targeted him until he killed him.

"I told you we should have kept that bastard locked up."

Eva let Omar go because there was nothing she could charge him with. The officers only had assumptions that he was involved with no evidence. You turn to look at Deputy Boyd and freeze in your steps. He walks past you without so much as a glance in your direction but he doesn't need you. The energy surrounding the head is the same as Deputy Boyd's. He either killed the man or he knew about it to move it to Eva's house. Your first instinct is to shout to the rooftops that Boyd is the unsub but you have to think about this through Hotch's eyes. He'll want evidence so you keep your mouth shut for now.

"I'm telling you for the last time, Boyd, go back on patrol," Eva says.

Boyd rolls his eyes but does as he's told.

"There isn't any decomposition. It's a new victim," Spencer says.

"He's becoming more focused on you, Sheriff. May I have a word?" Hotch asks. He and Eva step off to the side but you can still hear them. "It's clear that this is personal."

"It always was."

"How's that?"

"Look, I have no idea how many of these people have gone missing over the years, but one thing is clear. I'm the only one who seems to give a damn. That's as personal as it gets for me."

"We're here because we care."

"All I've got is a bunch of stories and superstitions. What if it isn't even happening?"

"Sheriff, I can't tell you how long this has been going on but something's definitely happening now. From the way the unsub is acting, it's obvious that you've touched a nerve. Whoever he is, I think you've probably talked to him."

Damn right, she has. He's right under her nose and she doesn't even know. You don't want to talk to her about this now because you don't want to freak her out when you don't have to.

"I've talked to anyone who will listen—drug dealers, immigrants, and even business owners."

"Well, one of them is your Santa Muerte and he's feeling the pressure. When we get back to the station, I want to go over every single interview you've done."

"How? Who are we even looking for?"

"We have a profile to give you and your deputies."

"Hotch, a word?" you butt in. He steps away from the Sheriff and joins your side. "I know I need evidence but you want to know what I saw when Deputy Boyd showed up? His energy matches the one on his head. I didn't see anything else but that can only mean one of two things—he's the one who killed him or he knew about it."

"Pay attention to his behavior during the profile. After, get your evidence."

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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takaraphoenix · 4 months ago

Note

For Stiles month, could I ask for 12 and Steter or 14 with Stiles, Jackson, and Danny? 🥺

(You are lucky you are getting both even though you put 'em in the same ask - just send two next time ;) - because someone else ALSO wants Stackson brOTP for 14!!)

The Birds and the Wolves

Tags: m/m, fluff, getting together, Pack Alpha Peter, post Nogitsune, vaguely post series

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale

@writersmonth Prompts: birds + library

Summary: Stiles is in the Hale Mansion's library when he realizes he's in love with Peter.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

The Birds and the Wolves

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Things had been kind of messy when Scott became a True Alpha and Derek gave up his Alpha status to save his sister's life. For a while, Peter, Derek, Cora and Isaac stayed as part of the McCall Pack. Until the Hales left. And Stiles tried not to take it personal, because it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and he wasn't even part of the Hale Pack – not that there was a Hale Pack anymore – and he even understood why they left, because there was no Hale Pack anymore. They'd already lost so much in this damn town, so of course would they leave. But it devastated Stiles.

They stayed in contact, though. Stiles and Derek, because over multiple times of mutually saving each other's lives, they had become friends. Stiles and Peter too though, because they'd been working together to create one coherent digital bestiary, out of the Hale bestiary and the stolen Argent bestiary and any book that either of them could find online. At first, it was all just professional, all about the bestiary. Then they started talking more.

It was the Nogitsune that really brought them closer. Though not possessed, Peter could relate to being a prisoner in your own body and to slowly losing your mind. It was also just easier, for Stiles, to talk through texts than in person. Not having to look at the other, not having to speak. Especially in the early weeks, months, after the possession, that helped him a lot.

Stiles knew that Jackson got his number from Peter, because not long after Peter got Stiles to talk – by offering his own trauma first, talking about the coma and his own experiences to get Stiles to talk – Jackson texted him. Stiles and Jackson bonded over the Nogitsune and the kanima.

That was how Stiles had learned that the Hales had ended up moving to London. Jackson was there, Derek's first beta, one of the scattered members of the Hale Pack. Stiles wasn't surprised when, a few months later, Peter casually mentioned being an Alpha again. That was always going to happen, Stiles had known it from the moment Peter had been resurrected, but it became an inevitability after Derek lost his Alpha spark, because Peter was not going to let the Hale Pack die. So he had hunted and killed a rogue Alpha and started rebuilding the Hale Pack, in London.

Boyd and Erica found their way to London, after Stiles texted them about this development. After running away from Beacon Hills, they had bounced from pack to pack. Never truly finding a home. Stiles hadn't found it in himself to make them stay, after everything, but he had insisted on staying in contact, so he would know they were safe. Safe but not happy. So when there was a small Hale Pack in another country, Stiles told them to go, to give it another chance, with a different Alpha.

After graduation, Stiles packed his bags and didn't even have to think about it. He needed to get out of this town. He loved Scott, dearly, he had many friends in the McCall Pack, it had been his family for so long now, but… he couldn't stay. The town that had killed his mom had also nearly killed him, he'd killed one of his best friends here, and so many others. Scott was sad, but he understood.

Stiles left, and he never even considered any other option than London. It had never been a question for him but maybe he should have considered telling the pack first. He'd knocked and got greeted by absolute bafflement. And then by hugs and fierce declaration that he had to stay.

That had been exactly a year ago now. Stiles settled in, found his place among the pack, fell back into friendships that had only existed on his phone for far too long now. The Hale Mansion was stunning, large and… home. His favorite room was the library though. All the books from the Hale vault, all the books both Peter and Stiles had bought over the past years, in their research. Stiles had been delighted when he first walked in there and he could be found in it about every day.

Especially at first, when he was settling in and was… kind of overwhelmed. There were still a lot of things he was struggling with after the possession, which only made it worse, because then he got frustrated with himself for still not being over it, so he retreated even further into himself. His pack was patient with him though, they understood and gave him time.

Sighing, Stiles turned his head to look out of the library's window. The pack was outside, training. Sparring with each other. Derek and Peter were instructing them. A soft smile spread over his lips as Stiles watched his Alpha. Damn, Peter had come a long way since the feral Alpha who had first turned Scott. Coming back to life had helped him, but becoming an Alpha again, without killing a family member, to bring back his family's legacy this time, to form his own pack, it had helped him so much. He'd become a great Alpha and Stiles was proud to be in his pack.

Stiles couldn't help but laugh when the wolves started chasing birds. Sometimes, when they were connecting a little too much with their wolf side, they acted more animalistic. Like chasing birds.

"Stop that, you unhinged puppies!" Stiles called out of the window. "Behave yourselves!"

"Let the pups have fun, darling," Peter called back, looking up at Stiles with a smile.

Stiles froze, surprised, as a thought crossed his mind. He's beautiful. Not just physically, of course was Peter Hale gorgeous. But seeing him with the pups, seeing him be a good Alpha, seeing him be snarky and teasing, Stiles found it all beautiful, loved it all. Loved… Peter.

It had all developed so naturally, they'd grown closer, Stiles found his place. And more often than not, that place was next to Peter. He hadn't noticed before, because it happened so gradually. But that moment, as random as it seemed, with Peter standing among his pack, smiling so softly up at Stiles, it felt like something was slipping into place.

"Oh," Stiles whispered to himself in awe. "I'm in love with you."

Peter, who'd slowly turned back to the betas to make them stop chasing birds, froze. His head snapped back to Stiles, eyes flashing red. Stiles' heart jumped into his throat and he flushed. But no. No, he didn't want to take it back. He was better, he had gotten so much better, he hadn't felt like he deserved to be happy, after the possession. Now, he was happy, finally. Here, with them. With Peter.

"I love you," Stiles repeated, louder, laughter bubbling in his chest.

It took Peter all but ten seconds to move from the garden upstairs to the library, standing in front of Stiles a little wide-eyed. Still red. There were some fangs too. Stiles smiled at him and reached out, resting a hand on Peter's cheek. There was no doubt, no worry that Peter wouldn't return his feelings, because at the same moment he noticed that he loved Peter, he also realized that Peter loved him. Had loved him for a long time, had shown it in so many different ways.

His support, his help to get through the possession, his patience, kindness and care, when it came to Stiles. There were so many lingering touches, more than just normal scent-marking among pack. A possessiveness. A protectiveness. Stiles smiled warmly at Peter.

"I'm glad you're ready," Peter whispered, resting his hands on Stiles' hips.

"I'm glad you waited for me to be ready. Thank you. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"You're worth waiting for, darling," Peter assured him as they both leaned in slowly.

Stiles' eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a soft kiss against Peter's lips.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Steter #Fluff #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #Teen Wolf #Steter Fic #Stiles Summer Stories 2024

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v3nusxsky · 2 years ago

Note

emily prentiss x pregnant!bau!reader ;; she gets a pos pregnancy test after a few rounds of ivf with emily, but she never got to tell her because she only found out a week after her “death”. (no one knows r’s pregnant only hotch bc of a cryptic pregnancy🤫) and when she comes to work, she sees emily, alive as ever— r’s mad and makes no move to talk to em. emily corners r in the coffee room, forcing her to talk to her and all r says is that the ivf didn’t take. a few hours later, r notices her 7month checkup is in a few minutes, she takes emily with her without telling her wehere they’re going.

- 🐦

Emery Faye

*Authors note~ omg I love this sm and it's something that's not normally spoken of much so I hope I handled it okay*

Trigger warnings~ cryptic pregnancy angst Emily "death" mentioned

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

A baby was always something you and Emily wanted. So when you're first few rounds of IVF failed naturally you were disheartened. Emily had told you of her past and how she didn't want to go through pregnancy again. That was fine by you, you loved the idea of carrying your child for the pair of you, and giving your wife a child to love and care for. It was a long shot, you knew that but you both weren't ready to give up on the idea of a baby.

Until that day, where Doyle stole Emily from you. Her life taken, leaving you widowed. That was five months ago. During, you got depressed and it seemed like the IVF had failed, after all nothing was amiss with your body. You felt like you'd failed Emily by not bringing her child into the world. No you couldn't even get pregnant and now she was gone all because of some serial theorist asshole who wanted revenge on your wife.

Your depressed state was causing your physical, mental and emotional health to deteriorate and fast. You knew you were spiralling downwards with no end in sight, all you wanted was your wife, yet she was gone just like the idea of starting a family. Therefore, you felt as if your purpose in life had died with your lovely Emily.

Hotch was the one to drag to you the hospital, insisting on a check up as he could see how badly you were doing and the guilt of knowing he was hiding Emily from you made him extra cautious with you. After all Emily asked about you all the time, JJ and Hotch filled her in and it was killing her from the inside. You were insistent that you were absolutely fine, no need for such a reaction when you were fine, grieving your wife but absolutely fine.

That was when they told you. You were pregnant. The round had worked, what a cruel coincidence. Emily wouldn't be around to see her child grow up and love them. But you would always tell them of her, and now you had your purpose. Obviously Hotch allowed you time to process the fact before adopting his practical ways of thinking. That was how you decided to hide the pregnancy from the team for as long as possible. Just wanting to bond with the baby and let the hurt and excitement settle down.

Seven months into your pregnancy you were glad your pregnancy was cryptic, it gave you more time to work out how to tell them, after all having a mini Emily could be rather traumatic for the team. Part of you hoped it was a boy to make things easier on others and part of you wanted a baby girl. Reminder of your late wife.

An emergency meeting at the round table was never good, but you weren't expecting to see a nervous looking Hotch and a guilty looking JJ. "Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted the whole team, as you know Emily-" the name came of your late wife causing you to blank out. Emily? And that's when you saw her in the doorway with a guilty and sad expression. "Sweetheart?" She murmured looking at you while the team all exploded in a flurry of emotions. "Heck yeah I got a problem with it" Derek raged, "I'm sorry truly you didn't deserve that" she murmured wrapping him in a warm hug.

Tears silently fell down your cheeks as you left the room, Hotch knew of course, you'd told him of your appointment and he guessed you'd function on autopilot so it was only natural that he sent Emily after you. Some time alone would do you both some good, and it would give you the opportunity to tell her about the baby.

Emily caught up to you, gently took your hand and allowed you to silently lead the way. In the car, Emily settled into the passenger side and allowed the silence to wrap around you both. Truly, there was so much she wanted to say to you but she knew you needed the time and space.

What shocked Emily was the fact you pulled up to the hospital, but she kept quiet just shooting you a questioning glance. The whole process went so much faster than you thought, maybe that's because you felt as if you'd joined another universe, your mind reeling as it attempted to take in the vital information, that Emily was indeed alive.

That was how you found yourself on the bed, the cool gel against your stomach as the babies heartbeat filled the room. "So you have a very healthy little one here, who's more than willing to show us what they are. Would you like to know?" The technician asked you and that was the first time you met Emily's eyes, "shall we?" With a stunned nod you were told that your baby was in fact a baby girl. "Emery Faye" you murmured reaching for Emily's hand. "It worked?" She whispered as if she was afraid it was all a dream. A teary nod was all you offered before both of you glued your eyes to the screen, as your baby wriggled around.

"She's got your nose Em" you giggled and your wife let out a laugh that you'd truly been missing. "I'm so sorry my sweetheart, I wanted to tell you but I couldn't risk him hurting you and now our baby girl" she murmured bringing a hand to your almost flat stomach. "It's cryptic Em, she will start to show more in a few weeks" her hand now laced yours as she came closer and to kiss you hesitantly. The first kiss of many to come. "Emery Faye? You remembered?" Emily whispered against your lips and you nodded. "I couldn't forget Em, I just can't believe you are really here. I just want you safe."

Word count~ 1149

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x you #ssa emily prentiss #anon requested

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it-was-summer · 4 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!reader)

A/N: I am exhausted this weekend so if at some point you feel like the writing shows that DON'T BE ALARMED. It is simply just me fighting back the urge to go to bed. The chapter does contain a good amount of sexual assault and violence so please, please, please be mindful of that while reading. I love all the comments here and Ao3, they make my day! I have also been noticing a lot of love towards the original of this series and I appreciate everyone for taking their time to read the remake! Please know that as of right now this thing IS NOT PROOFREAD I JUST NEED TO GET IT OUT! Stay safe, healthy, and happy! -Love, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #2 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: Cancer mentioned, sexual assault, blood, knife, cutting, mentions of death, death threats. Remember that you are not alone.

Tape Contents: Spencer and Derek are sent to discuss your abduction with Adeline. You fight back a sexual and physical attack from Heather. Heather reveals her plans for what will happen if anyone finds you.

Word Count: 4,029

March 5, 20XX

Spencer wasn’t too fond of hospitals, but he was fond of children. He interacted with them, loving that he could see how they processed information–new and old—every day. He loved Henry to bits, the way the kid was so willing to listen to Spencer’s ramblings or the way he was so amazed at a magic trick Spencer was doing.

Sick kids were a tragically different story, not that he didn’t like them. He always felt like… well, he was having a hard time conceptualizing it as he weaved through the crowded lobby. The pediatrics oncology unit was too packed for his liking. Statistically, he knew that one in two hundred eighty-five children could be diagnosed with some form of cancer before they hit twenty. That didn’t mean he had to like weaving through a small crowd of parents, doctors, and nurses on the way to room two hundred thirty with Morgan. There it was –the words for that feeling– watching someone younger than himself not being able to experience life at thirty.

After finding the friendship keychain, Hotch decided that Reid and Morgan should find your alleged ride-or-die, Adeline Smith. Meanwhile, Hotch and Prentiss would drive to Norfolk to talk to your mother. Rossi and JJ were handling some information with the police, so they were all paired away.

Derek and he slipped into the hospital room that housed Adeline and her daughter, Nicole. His chest tightened involuntarily at the sight of a mother stroking her daughter’s head, a smile on both of their faces. Derek was quick to speak, “Excuse me,” The mother and daughter jumped at the noise, and their eyes snapped to the hospital room door. “I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We just have some questions.” His hands dug into his jacket pocket to pull out the badge, muscle memory for both.

Adeline’s hand fell from her daughter's hairless head to her shoulder, her fingers giving it a light squeeze. “Questions regarding?” She asked with a curious expression as she stood up, a skeptical look in her eyes.

Spencer’s eyes met Nicole’s for a second, a small smile rising to his lips, and she gave him a nervous smile right back. He moved his gaze over to Adeline, who was now standing with her arms folded across her chest as she waited for the two men to answer her question. Derek looked over his shoulder at Spencer, then back at Adeline. He gently motioned for her to follow him to a slightly more private area to talk to her, the two moving to a corner of the room near the bathroom.

“Were you aware that Y/N L/N was being stalked?” Derek’s voice was calm as Spencer approached Nicole’s bedside chair and sat in it awkwardly.

Spencer motioned towards the girl’s stuffed animal, a bright orange cat that sat in between her legs. “I love cats,” he said in a soft voice.

Nicole beamed at him, grabbed the stuffed cat, and happily petted the top of its head: “Me too! This is Bee.”

“Bee? Do you like Bees?”

Adeline’s eyes strayed to Spencer's conversation with her daughter, and she nodded a little at Derek’s question: “We talked about it. She went to the police.” She said, a little numbly, before her head suddenly snapped towards him. “Why?”

“She was taken from her apartment on March third. She recorded videos for the police to send to us, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to help find her.” Derek explained gently as he watched Adeline’s face go pale.

Adeline grabbed her clothed chest and searched for a breath, her eyes wild as she looked at Derek’s face. Her eyes began searching for some hint in his face that he was lying, but she found none. She couldn’t stop the tears that were filling her waterline, and she turned her body away from her daughter and Spencer in a desperate attempt to hide her tears from her daughter. Her knees felt weak as she tried to breathe.

Spencer glanced back at Adeline and Derek, scooting a little to obstruct Nicole’s field of vision. He didn’t want the young girl to see her mother cry. Nicole shook her head slightly at his question, “No, not really. Auntie Y/N got her for me, and she loves bees.” She laughed softly, her words making Spencer’s heart melt a little.

“Is Bee your favorite?”

The girl covered the cat’s plush ears and smiled like she had a secret. “No, but she is my second favorite.” Her fingers scratched the stuffed animal’s ears gently. “Mr. Business is my first,” she whispered to him.

“Ah, and where is Mr. Business?” His eyes searched her hospital bed, and then he spotted a stuffed cat, a tuxedo cat. He grinned a little, and he motioned to the stuffed animal with his eyes, “Mr. Business is a very fitting name, I think,”

Adeline held out a hand for some space from Derek, and the hand clutching her chest came up to her mouth as she tried to keep from vomiting all over him. She had been stuck in this hospital when you had called her that first night. Having always loved talking to you, she answered enthusiastically. Still, the more she listened to the situation, the more she realized she didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort you the way you needed. And she said that to you. She said that to you. She couldn’t help you then, and she couldn’t help you now. She couldn’t even help her own daughter.

A sob rose in her throat, and she shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no, we talked on that day. Th-That night,” She recounted softly to Derek through her tears.

“What did you talk about?” Derek whispered the question softly as his eyes searched the room for some tissues, but his search was futile. He places a gentle hand on Adeline’s shoulder instead.

“We talked about college; she wanted her mind off of things, so we talked about our apartment when we were in grad school. It’s been two days! What have you been doing for two days while my best friend went missing?” Her cheeks were red, her fingers pointing accusingly at him before she sobbed softly, and her hand was moving back up to wrap around her mouth to muffle the sound.

“She didn’t show up to work on March fifth. That's when she was reported missing. We’re doing everything we can. What time did the two of you talk?”

“W-we talked around nine, maybe nine-thirty?” She whispered back softly before she started to breathe heavily again. “Why didn’t I call? I should have called again. It was getting so late, and she had locked all the doors, and I thought she was just being anxious. I should have called her again. I should have left the hospital to visit her.” Her mind was spiraling, the neverending rabbit hole that showed her all the ways she could have saved her best friend, unhinged its proverbial jaw and swallowed her whole, ready to digest.

Morgan wasn’t necessarily new to the information, as Penelope had already told him about your call logs from that evening, but he always liked to hear it be confirmed. It also helped him place an estimate of the time of your abduction. “Could you tell me about anyone, anyone at all, that might have been a little too into Y/N? Any ex-boyfriends that refused to leave her alone? Did she break up with anyone around Christmas?”

“No, she hasn’t dated anyone for almost a year.” Adeline sighed thickly and shook her head as she tried to calm down. “No, all her ex-boyfriends, they were always so mousy. ” She sighed, “And they always look alike,” she paused and gave a soft, sad chuckle, motioning over to where Spencer was as he continued to entertain her daughter. “Well, they all look like your Doctor friend, if I’m being honest. She’s always been too nice for her own good, even in college.”

Spencer tried to talk over the sobs that could be heard from the corner of the hospital room, clearing his throat or laughing as Nicole stumbled through a story. “She’s a loud crier,” Nicole whispered with a gentle pat on Bee’s head.

Spencer frowned as his efforts failed him, and he looked over his shoulder at Morgan, who was looking at him with a similarly sympathetic look on his face. He was about to say something when Nicole shoved Bee toward him, “You should give this to Auntie Y/N. Mommy said she was sad the other day. Bee always helps.”

Spencer turned the stuffed animal over in his hands, and he debated telling her the truth, but thankfully, his better judgment decided against it. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I see her,” Spencer promised softly as Nicole smiled wide at him.

As Derek and he walked out of the hospital, Derek’s eyes stayed on the stuffed orange cat in Spencer’s hands. As they pushed past a small group of people, Spencer found himself almost slamming into a pretty nurse, a gorgeous nurse. Her blue eyes blinked as she shuffled to one side, only to be unintentionally blocked by Spencer once more. She sighed a little and gave him a once over with a frown. Her eyes lingered on the gun holstered against his hip before she gave him a polite smile and said, “Excuse me,” and slipped past the two men with a determined look in her eyes.

Derek only said something when they got into the parking lot, the two of them walking to the black SUV, “Did you pick one up at the gift shop?”

Spencer groaned softly, making Derek chuckle as he walked around the car’s front to the passenger seat. “Open the door,” He said bluntly. When they were both inside the car, Spencer carefully placed the stuffed animal in his bag, and Derek chuckled again at the sight, turning the key.

“You didn’t even buy me one,”

March 5, 20XX

You were assuming Heather was angry with you. The assumption wasn’t baseless as the hunger in your stomach growled. You were quick to find that the harmony between a full stomach and morphine did matter and that harmony had left you many hours prior. You also were basing the assumption as you had spent what must have been a whole day fighting off tears and nausea.

The sick part was that you were beginning to get used to how your body got swarmed with heavy, hot, and benevolent warmth. The dull pain in your ankle was silenced under the warmth’s blanket of kindness. It reminded you of a heated blanket in a strange way.

You had finished the sips of your water before falling asleep and regretting it. You had learned that the bucket off to the side of the dresser was the perfect distance from the bed. Your broken ankle was dragging against the carpet with every movement. The chain around your good ankle didn’t snag as you sluggishly managed to hold your body up against the wall to pee into the bucket.

Once you were done, you hopped on your good leg and managed to pull your clothes back on. Your body fell face-first onto the bed, eliciting a soft groan from your lips as you found your body reluctant to move from its new home.

You closed your eyes and fell into the position, letting the bed sink in deeper. Your eyes snapped open with a sense of alertness that you hadn’t felt in hours as you heard the first click of a lock. Your arms weakly managed to push yourself up into a sitting position, pushing yourself back to your former position against the headboard. Your head throbbed at the fast movement, and your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the door.

When it slowly opened, you sucked in a small breath of air, watching as Heather slid into the room with a tray of food. “Hello, my Catherine.” She sighed as she shoved the keys into her scrub pocket with one balanced hand. “My, my, someone is looking pale today.” She asked as she sat down in the chair off the side of the bed with a gentle, pretty smile.

You nodded a little. Your lips were numb as you licked them. “What day is it?” Your voice came out quiet and strangled.

“Monday,” She stated simply as she twisted the top off a bottle of apple juice. She handed it over to your already waiting hands before she carefully lowered the morphine drip’s intake level. You greedily drank the juice without thinking twice, desperate to get something in your stomach.

You panted lightly as you pulled the half-empty bottle away from your lips, “Th-the date, I mean,”

“March fifth,” She rolled her eyes as she carefully rearranged a neatly made turkey sandwich on a paper plate, slowly placing the plate on the edge of the bed for you to take. “You moved in here early Saturday morning, don’t you remember?” she laughed out like it was the silliest thing she had ever heard.

You felt your mouth start to move to correct her, to tell her that you didn’t move in; she had kidnapped you. But as you stared at the turkey sandwich on the edge of the bed, you realized that playing along would be better. Playing along meant more food and less nausea. Playing along meant living longer. “Right,” You said breathlessly as you pulled the paper plate to your lap. “How could I forget?”

Heather smiled a little as she watched you bite into the sandwich, happy to see you adjusting. You were eating so fast that she was a little worried about your empty stomach. She didn’t want to make feeding you so sporadically a habit. But yesterday, when she came up with a food tray, she thought about your rudeness and how cruel you had been to her. It made her stomach twist into angry knots. She decided that not feeding you for a day would be a lesson.

“I’m so happy our first fight is over. I hate to be angry with you, Catherine.” Heather’s sweet tone wasn’t lost on you as she touched your arm gently. Your chewing slowed for a second before you swallowed, your eyes glued to her hand on your arm.

“I picked out every gift just for you,” She sighed softly as she traced soft circles against your skin. You fought back the urge to pull your arm away. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know? You remember in college when you and Adeline dressed up as Lizzie and Jane Bennet. No one got it but god,” She sighed, her eyes finding yours as you stayed frozen.

The hand on your arm slowly reached for the paper plate on your lap. Your fingers twitched a little as you fought back the urge to grab the food as she placed the plate on the nightstand beside your bed. Everything was happening so fast and yet incredibly slow at the same time.

Then she stood up and crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over your lap before stranding you with a white smile. Her hands came to cup your face and tilt it up. A soft sigh fell from her lips. “You’ve always been brilliant,”

You shook your head in her hands lightly. The warmth of the morphine was slow to leave your body, but as your body filled with an intense feeling of dread, you could feel everything. Your ankle throbbed sharply, and you were starting to feel like you were about to be sick again. “I’m not,”

Heather threw her head back and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. When she lowered her head to meet your gaze again, she leaned closer, one of her thumbs reaching up to trace your bottom lip. You cringed a little at the feeling, a sight that she ignored. “You’ve always been so humble, too. How did I get so lucky?” She whispered as she leaned in to kiss your lips softly.

You felt your lips tighten and bile rise to your throat, and you swallowed it. You let her kiss you once, then twice, then a third time. Your lips stayed closed in a tight line as you tried to imagine yourself in a different position, but with every touch Heather placed on you, the more you stayed cemented in your reality.

Heather pulled back with a look in her eyes that you could recognize as crazed lust. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to know what her hands felt like anymore. You bit your lip to silence a whimper. Her hands pulled roughly at your shirt as she grabbed the hem of it and pulled it over your head with a simple yank.

You shook your head quickly now, “No, Heather, I-I’m not ready. I don’t-”

She shushed you softly with a gentle smile as she traced the swell of your breast slowly, the touch eliciting your tears to pool over your waterline. “I know you’re worried, but I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Her eyes lingered on the prominent bruise on the center of your chest. She frowned, leaning down carefully to kiss the blue and black patch of skin.

“No,” You cried softly, your voice soft before you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” You yelled, causing her back to straighten and sit up.

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a soft scoff.

“I-I can’t do it, I’m not ready. I don’t want to, Heather. Please don’t make me.” You begged softly as tears rolled down your face. “I’ll try next time, I promise. I just, please, please don’t make me.”

Heather frowned a little before she let out a harsh laugh, her arms folding over her chest tightly. She looked down at you, “You know I saw your precious little Adeline today,”

You felt your back tense at Adeline's mention, “What? I thought you worked in pediatrics, not pediatric oncology. W-why did you see Adeline?”

Heather reached out a hand to press on your bruise roughly, the feeling making you wince. “I work in pediatric oncology. Sometimes, I help Nicole. I loved it when you visited her at the hospital. It was almost too easy to steal the copy of your apartment key from Adeline. She doesn’t love you as much as I love you, you know that, right?”

You shook your head, and you cried harder as you realized that you had never even noticed her at the hospital. Your focus has always been so zoned in on Nicole or Adeline that you didn’t even register Heather’s presence. Would Adeline remember Heather? You doubted it.

“She talked to some agents or something and was inconsolable. Fucking useless friend of yours. Anyway, I ran into them in the hallway. Scrawny kid with some buff guy, I’m sure Adeline called them.”

You found your hands grabbing her hand on your chest and shook your head side-to-side. “No, Adeline doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t, I promise.”

Heather’s eyes met yours briefly before they trailed down to your bare chest and your hands holding onto her wrist. “Say you love me more than her then,”

“I-I, what?”

“Say it.”

You opened your mouth, but all that came out were gentle sobs as you tried to form the words, terrified that she was about to do something to Adeline. The thought of Heather hurting Adeline had you gasping softly for air.

Her eyes were on yours again as you panted softly, “You don’t love me?” Her spit hit your cheek as she hissed the words in rageful disbelief. She was off your lap in seconds as she moved to the dresser and quickly pulled out a small pairing knife.

“Wait,” You cried softly as you tried to hurry away from her, making a vain attempt to get up from the bed that was meant with a howl of pain from your ankle and your body slumping over the edge lamely.

Her hands grabbed your ankles, good and injured, and pulled you roughly to the edge of the bed. A scream left your throat at the contact. “You think I’m going to let them find you?” She questioned in a suspiciously calm voice as she grazed the smooth side of the knife against your collarbone.

You stayed frozen as she leaned in closer, her lips at the shell of your ear, “If they ever found you, Emma. I would kill you and then myself. I’ve already decided. We have to be together,” Her voice in your ear had you breathing harder as she slowly pressed the tip of the knife into the area above your heart.

The knife only stung at first before it felt like a ripping pain. Heather dragged the knife into your skin with a deliberate sense of control. Not too deep, not too superficial. Something she wouldn’t have to stitch up. She made a diagonal line before staring a few inches apart from the other cut. “We belong together, Jane.”

You cried out again as she started dragging the knife into your skin once more, “Please,”

“You just need to open your heart. If they ever found us, I need to mark where to shoot. Stay still.”

As Heather got close to completing the ‘X’ mark on your chest, marking you as a possible target. You felt your body thrash under her weakly. The edge of one of the lines skewed to the left, and Heather let out an annoyed groan before she pulled the knife away from your chest and to your lips. “Stop fucking crying,” She growled as she slashed at your bottom lip.

You hissed at the feeling as blood coated your chest and filled your mouth. You stared up at her as soft sobs kept leaving your mouth, “Fuck you.” You muttered before gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth and shooting it directly at her.

You laughed as it made contact with her cheek, and she wiped the bloody spit away with the back of her hand. She laughed harshly as she nodded a little, “Okay, so you want to be a brat.” She laughed.

She was sliding off the bed now, leaving you lying on your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she gripped the pairing knife in her hand tighter. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. It’ll be your last one, Emma.” She snapped at you before stomping to the door and flying it open.

Once she was gone, you stayed there, staring up at the ceiling wordlessly. You licked at the cut on your lip gently as blood flowed freely into your mouth. You swallowed the copper-tasting liquid as you let the consequences sink in. She was going to kill you if they found you, and you had already called for a team of highly trained professionals to come to find you.

You almost laughed at the irony. You didn’t want them to find you. You did want them to find you. It was almost hilarious. You tried to smile with your cut lip but found the action too painful to manage.

You didn’t want to die at twenty-eight. You wanted to see your mom again, Adeline, Nicole, hell, you wanted to go to work one more time. You rolled onto your stomach and cringed the way the fluffy comforter grazed the bleeding “X” on your chest. You reached for the morphine drip and rolled it closer as you slowly turned a knob and upped the intake. Your shaking hands then moved to the sandwich on the nightstand with a sigh.

She could kill you when they found you, but if she thought you weren’t going to try and manipulate the situation, she was dead wrong. You weakly bit into the sandwich while trying to think of a plan.

You refused to die without leaving a mark.

TAG LIST: @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

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meeludrawz · 6 months ago

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SO I RECENTLY FINISHED READING "Sooner or Later you're gonna be mine" by Staringback on A03

Since A03 keeps refusing to let me in, I downloaded it as an Epub to read it on my kobo

Anyways, for the one who knows, it was sadly unfinished And my brain thought about some headcanons of what happens next >:3 The hc's under the cut (I tried to follow the story as much as I could)

After Sans learns that Frisk is Asgore and Toriel's "prisoner", he gets fucking pissed, because why wouldn't he? Jerry then reminds him that he can't fight them on his own

So Sans goes back to his home in Fell City, with Grillby, and tells Wingdings about it

He doesn't have any other choice but to go to sleep for his plan, to fully gain his magic back. (Wingdings promised him he could kill both Goats if HE WENT TO SLEEP) Sans of course despised to go to sleep while his little lady was captured but he knew better than to piss his older brother

Next morning, he teleports to his home in Surface City and deals with the angry humans who tried to kidnap/interrogate Papyrus

Sans and Pap then go back to Fell City to get his older bro

Before leaving, Wingdings has fun torturing and FINALLY killing Grillby (because THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVE)

The three Gaster brothers, Sans, Pap and Wings teleports right into the Dreemurrs home and fight the Goat couple to save Frisk!

Undyne, Asgore's guard, decides at the very last moment to join Frisk's side

Alphys is unable to fight due to her asthma but still helps Undyne and Frisk escape this hell of a house while the skeletons and the goats fight

Even thought the fight was difficult, the skeleton brothers won

Sans was really fucking pissed and disgusted when he learned that Frisk had to act like the goat couple's child. So he killed them. No MERCY (They deserve it too)

Wingdings then completely has control over Fell City and now, no one will stop him from taking control over Surface City

It will take time before the plan would be a success

For now, Frisk, after telling Sans about Whisk/Burgerpants, they save the kitty

Whisk and Tops/Nice cream guy eventually become a couple again :D They'd also move in Surface City

After longs days of rest, because they CLEARLY deserved it, Frisk and Sans get their official date

Over months or years, Wingding's territory in Surface City gets bigger and bigger. He still works for Don Dee but that's only a matter of time >:)

After lots and lots of dates later, Sans and Frisk gets married. And now she lives with the Gaster brothers. In the beginning, they all find it weird but hey, it makes the house lively so they don't mind

Frisk is pregnant! It wasn't planned but Sans and her are still happy about it!

Sometimes when Sans looks at Frisk's round belly, he regrets not having been able to save her from her ex. He still thinks that maybe he could have saved the baby and Frisk before Derek (her ex) causes de "miscarriage"...

Welp, and then they lived happily ever after! I guess? I ran out of ideas but I sill really love the ideas that I got And I really really had to share those hcs to get em out of my head

#mafiafell #undertale #undertale au #underfell #maybe #idk #sooner or later you're gonna be mine #sans x frisk #i usually don't ship sans x frisk but when frisk is an adult its okay to me #and grillby #that motherfucker #i HATED him #that's why i like to think that he died

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hayleythecannibal · 3 months ago

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Sinister Minds: Act I- Chapter One - Extreme Aggressor

TW: Crime scenes, Death, Murder, Kidnapping

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist:

Prequel

FBI - BAU -- CLASSROOM -- DAY-

Up on the wall screen are photos of various victims. “Anyone recognize these faces?”Gideon asks the class of students. “Victims of the "Footpath Killer."” A girl shouts from the back of the class. “That's what Virginia newspapers are calling him. We refer to him as the UNknown SUBject or Unsub.” The lights go back on. as Jason Gideon is teaching his class. “I told Virginia PD -- we're looking for a white male in his 20s ... who owns an American-made truck in disrepair. Works a menial job. I told 'em when you find him ... don't be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.”

One of the students raises her hands. “Not to sound skeptical, but come on ... a stutter?”

“Where'd the murders occur? Hiking paths. Isolated. If I'm a killer who has to use an immediate application of overpowering force, even out in the middle of nowhere, I lack confidence. I can't charm them into my car like Ted Bundy did. I can't because I am ashamed of something.” The side door opens and Dr. Spencer Reid steps into the class. He holds up a file folder and taps it.

“Excuse me.”

FBI - BAU - HALLWAY -- DAY –

Dr. Spencer Reid and Jason Gideon walk through the hallway as Reid fills Gideon in on the details. They're looking at a crime scene photo of a dead body. “They're calling him the "Seattle Strangler." Four victims in four months. He keeps 'em alive for seven days. The handle serves as a crank.” Spencer says as they walk down the Hall.

“Allowing him to control the rate of suffocation.” Gideon suggests to the very young profiler. “To prolong it?” Spencer responds in question. “To enjoy it. Seattle's hit a wall?” Spencer nods: “Physical evidence is nonexistent. There are no tangible leads.”

“And another girl is missing.” He grabs the photo from Reid and heads into the office.

FBI - BAU - GIDEON'S OFFICE -- DAY-

Gideon stands behind his desk and looks through the file. “I looked the case file over. I'll get some thoughts to you ASAP.” Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan walk into the office. “You're gonna be with us in Seattle ASAP. And a New Profiler is joining the team.” Hotch says as he enters Gideon looks up from the file. Morgan holds up a photo of Heather Woodland. Gideon takes the photo from him. Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, A new Profiler?

“22-year-old Heather Woodland.” Derek Says, When i enter the room: “Before she left for lunch, she downloaded an email with a time-delayed virus attached. The killer's virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen. I looked over the file before I arrived” I say as I hand Gideon a photo of the message. He reads it and recognizes it immediately. He glances at Hotchner before walking over to the nearby wall. "For heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself." Gideon reads out. On the wall is a framed photo with the inscription on the bottom: WILLIAM HEIRENS, THE LIPSTICK KILLER, 1945. The message is the exact one written on the wall in the photo.

“He never keeps them for more than seven days, which means we have fewer than 36 hours to find her.” Hotch says as he glances at me. “They want you back in the saddle. You ready?” Derek asks.

“Looks like medical leave's over, boss.” Spencer says with a smile. I lean against the back wall watching them all interact with curiosity. “They sure they want me?” Gideon asks with raised brows. “The order came from the director.” Hotch nods, Gideon turns and looks at the photo.

“Well, we'd better get started.”

AIRPORT -- NIGHT -

Two black cars stop on the runway in front of the airplane. Gideon and Reid

step out of the car with their gear. They head for the plane. A car pulls up and out of it steps Dr. Brianna Graham, Her heels clicking along the cement of the private runway. “Joseph Conrad said, "The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."” Gideon says as He notice Dr. Graham behind them.

Hotchner and a female agent exit the Third car. They head for the plane with the others. “This girl may only have 36 hours to live. We're not asking for a judgment of Gideon. We want an assessment. We want to know you're there to step in if he can't perform. Are we clear?”

“Of course.” Hotchner gets on the plane.

PLANE (FLYING) -- NIGHT –

Gideon walks up the aisle to join Reid, Graham, Morgan and Hotchner. Reid reads from

the file. “His first victim was 26-year-old Melissa Kirsh. Stab wounds, strangulation.”

“Wait, wait. Back up, back up. He stabbed her ... and then strangled her to finish her off?” Derek says with confused squinted eyes. “Other way around. Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” Gideon says.

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe. He tried, probably found that it took too long …” I say with folded arms as I think. “So he stabbed her instead.” Derek says and I nod. “And realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood.” Hotch continues the thought. “Next time, our boy's got a method -- the belt.” Derek finishes. “He's learning, perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer.” Gideon nods.

F.B.I. NORTHWEST FIELD OFFICE SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

The team exits the vehicle and enters the building.

LOBBY -- DAY –

Gideon picks up his bag from the conveyor belt after entering the metal detector. He heads inside. Behind him, Graham, Reid and Morgan follow. Morgan nudges Reid. “You know Her Parents were both Profilers.” Hotchner comes up behind them. “Actually her mom was a Criminal Psychiatrist, Her Dad was a profiler.” Spencer explains softly, “How do you know that?” Derek asks “Morgan, Her dad was Reid’s Professor.”

FBI BUILDING - BULLPEN -- DAY –

Hotchner makes the introductions. “This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan, our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Reid. And our Child and Sex Crimes Expert, Dr. Graham.” Gideon stands over by the map. “Doctor Reid.” Gideon Clarifies.

“Dr. Reid, our expert on, well, everything, and after two years busting my butt in this office, I hope you remember me.” The office chuckles. Gideon is looking at the board - just one of many they have set up in the office. “He's willing to travel with the body.” Gideon says as he looks at the board with his arms crossed.

“Then he drives a vehicle capable of concealing one.” Derek says, “One in 7.4 drivers in Seattle owns an SUV.” Spencer reveals, As they talk, Gideon looks at the victim boards. The first board has photos of MELISSA KIRSCH, VICTIM #1. “Explorer with tinted windows.” Derek Says with speculation “Explorers rate higher with women.” Spencer says. The second victim board has photos of ANNE CUSHING, VICTIM #2.

The next board has photos of AMY HABERLAND, VICTIM #3. The board after that has photos of SONDRA WATTS, VICTIM #4.

“But how do we know it's his car? Ted Bundy drove a VW Bug.” Derek says as he looks at The final board has photos of: MISSING, HEATHER WOODLAND. “What about a Jeep Cherokee?” Hotch suggests. “Jeeps are more masculine.” Spencer says as Gideon turns and looks at the group. “We all know how an Unsub feels about asserting his masculinity.” Gideon says surely.

“When did the Bureau become involved in the case?” Hotch asks “After the fourth body. He dumped that one out of state.” The agent says, Hotchner turns and looks at Gideon. “On purpose.”

“If so, knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record.” Spencer says, i furrow my brows in thought. “Or that he watches television. May I?” A Seattle Agent hands Me the file. Another Seattle Agent looks at Hotchner. “So you wanna see our suspect list?” Hotch puts his hand up with a gesture. “No, we won't look at a suspect list until after we come up with a profile. It keeps our perspective unbiased.”

“When do we sit down with your task force?” Gideon asks the agents, “Four o'clock.” I look up from the file. “An accurate profile by four o'clock today?” Derek says with wide eyes, Gideon is looking at something on the far victim board. He walks past them. “That's not a problem.” Gideon says absently, The agents follow Gideon as he nears the board.

“Agent Gideon, where would you like to start?” Hotch asks as He walks up to the board for VICTIM #2, ANNE CUSHING. He points to one of the Photos. “Let's start at the site of the last murder”

WOODLAND RESIDENCE - DAY-

A sandy-colored dog barks at Graham, Reid and Hotchner. Reid is startled. David grabs Sandy's collar. “Sandy, no, no, no. I'm so sorry.” David says as he keeps Sandy at his side. I smile at the dog. “No, it's okay. It's what we call the Reid effect.” They glance over at Reid. “Happens with children, too. I'm Agent Hotchner. This is Special Agent Dr. Reid and Special Agent Dr. Graham”

“You both look too young to have gone to medical school.” David’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “They're Ph.D.s. --three of them.” Spencer says, “I only have one Ph.D. sir.” I say with a smile. “Are you Both geniuses or something?” David asks as Hotchner starts petting the dog.

“I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified--but I do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. Yes, I'm a genius.” Spencer says as he turns and looks around the room. Sandy barks. “Sandy, you get a lot of attention, don't you?” Hotch asks the dog.

“Yeah, Heather loves this dog. I feed her when Heather's away.Usually, she's fine, but ... lately, she won't eat. It's almost like she can sense something's wrong.” David says. “Not sense. Smell. Our apocrine sweat gland releases secretions in response to emotional stress.” I explain as I pet the dog softly. I love dogs. My dad brought a lot of strays home when I was a kid. “Sandy's worried because she knows you are.” Hotch says. David nods. Reid looks at the magazines on the dresser. “David, does your sister drive a Datsun Z?”

‘No, but she's in the market for one. How'd you know?” Reid picks up the magazine and shows it to them. Sandy barks. “Come on, Sandy.” David takes Sandy out of the room. Hotchner looks at Reid. “There's an immediate relationship established between a buyer and a seller, a level of trust. If I want to coax a young woman into my car …” I say as I gesture and uncross my arms

“Offer her a test drive.”

FBI – BUILDING - OFFICE -- DAY –

Morgan tosses a baseball and paces the floor as he thinks. “Okay, then how 'bout the fact that on one hand, we have paranoid psychosis ... but the autopsy protocol says what?” Derek asks out loud. Reid twirls around and around in his office chair. “Adhesive residue shows he put layer after layer of duct tape over his victims' eyes.” Hotchner listens as they talk. So does Gideon, who is standing on the other end of the room looking at the photos on the wall.

“He knows he wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes. He doesn't want 'em looking at him, apparently. Okay, but then he takes the body and dumps it right out in the open, murder weapon nearby.’ Derek says as Gideon continues to stare at the wall in front of him. We see the various photos, maps and reports flash by. The argument in the background gets louder and louder.

“Not the MO of a paranoid convinced he's being watched or Surveilled.” I say when I pop a raspberry in my mouth. “Paranoid psychosis, but behavior that's not paranoid.” Derek says,as he continues to throw the ball in the air. “Maybe he's schizophrenic.” Hotch throws in. “Maybe we just don't have enough for a complete profile.” Derek says, I shrug and nod. “We have enough to narrow our list of suspects.” Hotch says.

“We're looking at less than 12 hours to have to find this woman.” I say and stand up from my seat. “We don't know exactly what –” “Hey, Hotch, we don't know anything!” Derek says before Hotch can complete his sentence. “All right, enough.” Everyone is quiet.“Let's tell them we're ready.’ Gideon turns and heads out of the room. Hotchner and Reid are very quiet.

Morgan is stunned. “We're ready?”

Gideon leaves the room without answering him. Morgan turns to look at the others. “Reid. Graham. You're both good with this? We've got a woman who's only got a few hours left to live, an incomplete profile, and a unit chief on the verge of a nervous breakdown.” The door opens

and Gideon rushes back in to grab something. “They don't call them nervous breakdowns anymore.” Gideon leaves the room.

“It's called a major depressive episode.” I say with an awkward smile. “I know, Graham.” Derek says with an annoyed tone.

FBI - CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY–

Gideon makes the presentation. “The unidentified subject is white and in his late 20s. He's

someone you wouldn't notice at first. He's someone who'd blend into any crowd. The violent nature of the crime suggests a previous criminal record -- petty crimes. Maybe auto theft. We've classified him as an organized killer – careful. Psychopathic as opposed to psychotic. He follows the news, has good hygiene. He's smart.”

“Because he's smart, the only physical evidence you'll find is what he wants you to find. He's mobile, car in good condition. Our guess -- Jeep Cherokee, tinted windows. The murders have all involved rapes. But rape without penetration is a form of piquerism, and that tells us he's sexually inadequate. Psychiatric evaluations will show a history of paranoia stemming from a

childhood trauma-- death of a parent or family member. And now he feels persecuted and watched.”

“Murder gives him a sense of power. Organized killers have a fascination with law enforcement. They will inject themselves into the Investigation. They will even come forward as witnesses to see just how much the police really know. That makes them feel powerful, in control. Which is why I also think ... in fact, I know ... you have already interviewed him.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE -- NIGHT–

Agent Elle Greenaway walks across the street toward the Slessman house. She glances

behind her, then hurries up the grass and up the porch stairs. She knocks on the door. The door opens. “Hi.” An old woman with an oxygen tank, wearing a nasal canula and leaning heavily on a cane answers the door. In the background, we see a young woman carrying a toddler.

“I'm sorry to bother you. I'm house-sitting down the street, and

when I got back, the door was wide open, and the lights weren't working. I feel

stupid asking this, but is there someone who might be able to take a look inside

with me?” Mrs. Slessman turns and calls up the stairs. “Richard. Richard, get down here!”

NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE - NIGHT–

Richard Slessman and Elle Greenaway walk across the street toward the darkened

green-colored house.“Are you sure you locked it?” “Yeah.” They walk up the front steps. He turns on his flashlight and pushes the door open. “Hello?” He steps into the house slowly and looks around. Elle follows him inside. There doesn't appear to be anyone there. He walks deeper into the house, looking at the dining room area. “Hello!”

Suddenly, armed FBI agents burst out from their hiding places. “FBI! Freeze!” “Freeze!” Richard is surprised. Elle grabs Richard's hands, twisting them behind his back. He drops the flashlight and falls forward to his knees. “Get him down!” She takes out her handcuffs and cuffs him. “Richard Slessman, FBI. You are under arrest for the murder …” Her voice fades into the background. Richard turns and looks to the side. Gideon steps forward and looks at him. Richard smiles back at him.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - NIGHT–

A framed photo of Richard Slessman hangs on the hallway wall. The front door opens and Hotchner rushes in. Other agents quickly follow. “I'm going up.” Gideon walks into the house; Reid and Graham join him. “There's no sign of the girl here. We can arrest him with probable cause, but we won't be able to hold him.” Spencer says as we follow as Gideon walks down the hallway enough to glance into the kitchen. He sees Mrs. Slessman sitting at the kitchen table, the woman carrying the baby standing next to her.

“Slessman's been at the top of the suspect list.” Spencer says, as Gideon looks at Mrs. Slessman“Is that the mother?” Elle steps into the hallway: “Grandmother. The mother died in a fire when he was 13.” Gideon walks past her and toward the kitchen. “Probably not the only fire in his childhood.” Reid looks around the room. Morgan is behind him. “Before his "Son of Sam" murders, David Berkowitz set a multitude of fires.” I say with curiosity as I look around the room.

“Exactly how much is a multitude?” Derek asks me. “According to his diary, 1,400 and …” I say and “...88.” Elle finishes for me, Gideon turns to Elle. “Luring him out was your idea, right? Greenaway?”

“Elle. I don't send a SWAT team into a house with children.” She clarifies, “Hotch says your background is in sex offender cases. What can you tell us?” Gideon asks. He couldve asked me, its clear this man is an aggravated and anger-excited rapist. But i believe Its a Duo. one dominant one submissive.

“The last four murders show he's an anger-excitation rapist. He'll keep a victim for a couple of days. He probably records or videotapes them so that he can keep reliving the fantasy.” Elle says and i nod along with her statement. “You okay with Hotch being in on the interview?” “I'd like him to lead, actually.”

“Fine. But hold off. Slessman's done time, and he knows the process. And all you will get now is a demand for a lawyer.” Gideon turns and heads out. Elle looks a little disappointed. “Hotch, let's check the garage, then show me what you got.”

“Next time, show a little leg.” Morgan heads up the stairs. After a beat, Elle follows him. “Morgan, the only time you're gonna see a little leg from me is when I'm about to kick your ass.” She smiles.

“I still teach hand-to-hand over at Quantico if you need a little brush-up training.” Derek smirks and crosses his arms. Elle sighs “Seriously ... I want that opening at BAU. You got any advice?”

“Just trust your instincts.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - GARAGE -- NIGHT–

Hotchner opens the garage door. Inside is a dark-colored jeep. “Well, we got the jeep right.” Gideon shakes his head. “And everything else wrong. The bodies had defensive wounds. Richard doesn't have a mark on him. We're missing something.” Gideon says unsatisfied.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - SECOND FLOOR -- NIGHT–

Morgan looks around the second floor and finds Richard's bedroom. He looks around the room and notices the large model airplane hanging on the wall along with the other various items around the room. “Something's not right about this. This is a boy's room ... not a

man's.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - RICHARD'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT –

Two agents sit at the computer. “Log in password.” He hands the slip of paper to agent 2, who starts typing in the DEADBOLT DEFENSE Administrator login password: SLSS6000 Morgan tries to stop them. “No, no -- wait, wait!”

It's too late. The agent hits enter and the computer blacks out. Morgan exhales. “It's not turning back on.”

“Yeah. And it won't. It was a false password.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC -- NIGHT –

Elle walks into the attic and finds Gideon, Reid, and Graham already there. They're both staring at a Go board. Hotchner stands in the back of the room behind them. “What kind of game is it?” Elle asks with a tilt of her head. ‘In China, it's called Wei- Chi. Here we call it "Go". It's considered to be the most difficult board game ever conceived.” Spencer says, I stand beside him, Studying the board.

“Chairman Mao required his generals to learn it.” Gideon explains, I tilt my head to look closer at th board. “It also looks like he's playing himself.” Spencer points out. “How can you tell?” Asks a confused Elle.

Reid reaches down and spins the board. “This might provide an advantage, actually. Go is considered to be a particularly psychologically revealing game. There are profiles for every

player -- The Conservative Point Counter, The Aggressor, The Finesser.” I say as i study the board and slessmans patterns. “What kind of player is Slessman?” Asks Hotch. Reid leans forward to study the board for a moment. He looks at Hotchner. “Extreme Aggressor.” I respond softly.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC -- NIGHT –

Elle, Reid, Graham, Gideon and Hotchner enter the second floor bedroom just as Morgan

finishes setting up a laptop to get into Richard's computer. “Okay, here we go.” The laptop hums and a DEADBOLT DEFENSE login appears on the screen. “What's the number 6 at the bottom of the screen?” Elle asks confused. “Number of password attempts before the program wipes the hard drive.”

“There could be an email or a journal in the computer, something

that tells us where Heather is. Do you think you can break in?” Suddenly, Gideon is listening in on their conversation.

” In six tries?” Morgan scoffs and shakes his head. "Try again. Fail again. Fail better." Gidon says and Reid looks at Morgan. “Samuel Beckett.” I quote, Morgan blinks. "Try not. Do. Or do not." Derek counter quotes. Reid turns and looks at Gideon. “Yoda.” Gideon turns and looks on the small wall shelf. He suddenly sees something and reaches out to grab a book from the bottom of the stack. He pulls the book out and looks at it. The title of the book is "Journal of Applied Criminal Psychology."

He flips through the pages of the book and finds a newspaper clipping inside. The partial headline reads: "-BLAST KILLS SIX". The photo under it shows two men. One of them is Gideon, his hands and pants bloodied. Reid, who is standing next to Gideon also looking at the news article, looks at Gideon. “I wanna talk to him.”

Gideon closes the textbook and heads out of the room. Elle and Morgan look up from the laptop as Gideon leaves.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - KITCHEN -- NIGHT–

Richard Slessman sits at the kitchen table. Gideon walks in, tosses the textbook on the table in front of Richard and takes a seat opposite him.

“You read my paper. Learn anything?”

“Heirens said a man living inside of his head was the one who

committed the murders. You said he was lying, that there'd never been an actual case of multiple personalities.” Slessman says insecurely. ”You have an academic interest in disassociative identity disorder, or you just planning your defense?” Gideon looks at him closely.

Richard chuckles. Gideon takes the newspaper clipping out from the book. He spreads it out in front of Richard. The Boston Sentinel headline reads: "Shrapnel Blast Kills Six". “You a fan of Adrien Baal's work?”

“No. I'm a fan of yours. You know ... they never give you the real facts about CPR ... that outside of a hospital, it's only effective 7% of the time. Your friend had a 93% certainty of dying, but you kept trying ... even after you'd broken his ribs, even after his blood was all over your hands.” Slessman leans forward and smirks. “Why don't you tell us where Heather Woodland is?” Gideon asks, but its more in the tone of a demand.

“Woodland ... isn't she the girl that went missing a couple days ago?” Slessman leans back with a smirk. Gideon nods. He looks around the room. The wood block on the counter reads: "Good little boys are like sunshine." The cookie jar on the shelf reads: "Cookies for Good

Boys Only."

“Get him out of here.” Gideon stands up and leaves the kitchen. He briskly walks past Hotchner.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - NIGHT -

Hotchner walks out and around the side of the house where Gideon is. Gideon

takes several short breaths.“Hey.” Gideon turns around. “He said "isn't she the girl ... ". If he'd already killed her, he would have said–” Gideon says with a concerned/panicked expression. "Wasn't she the girl ..." Hotch finishes for him. “She's alive. We don't know for how long.”

AARON HOTCHNER:

“ Is it true what he said about CPR? I mean, I didn't know.” Hotch asks curious. Gideon scoffs. “You want statistics on CPR, ask Reid.” Gideon says frustratedly. “I wanna know if you're okay.”

“I'm fine.’ Gideon glares. “Are you?” Hotch seriously questions his friend. “Think I can't do the job?” Gideon raises his brow with a scoff.

“I think you can't be two different people at once. What?” Gideon looks away. He smiles as he realizes something. “Conflicts in the profile.” Quick flashes of: Richard Slessman's interview with Gideon; Heather Woodland's victim board; crime scene photos of another victim; more photos of the victims; the dump site for victim #2; the Unsub appears next to the body, turns, then runs; the computer message; the matching message on the framed photo; the funeral; the child looks at Gideon; the strangers walking along the sidewalk; the first victim's photo with the belt still tied around her neck; strange photos; extreme close-up of an eye; a map with places labeled and stickered in green, yellow and blue; Richard Slessman walks down the stairs; and Richard

Slessman sitting across the kitchen table from Gideon.

“Two different behaviors.” “Two different people. There's a second killer.”

FBI - STAIRS -- DAY –

Gideon, Graham, Elle and Hotchner walk down the stairs. “A second Unsub.” Elle says with surprise. “It's not unusual. Remember Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris?” Hotch points out.

“1979. They outfitted a van to rape and murder girls in California.” I say, its one of the cases that made me specialize in sex crimes and Crimes against children. “We're looking for someone who fits a similar relationship?” Hotch asks Gideon. “They're not equals. Slessman's smart, but he is a submissive personality.” Gideon clarifies, I nod. “So number two is the dominant.” Elle asks, I nod: “Authoritative, arrogant.”

“Probably not as smart as Slessman.” Hotch Adds, Gideon smirks slightly, “He's like the schoolyard bully recruiting a good underling --he'll be protective of Richard. He'll make him feel like he owes him.”

“If Richard's been up in the attic fantasizing about being an extreme aggressor, this guy showed him how to do it.” Hotch continues the thought. “He helped him take the first step.” Says Gideon. “I think we should interview him, use this as pressure.” Elle expresses. Gideon stops and looks at Elle. “No, no. We need leverage. A name.” Gideon states with thought. “From the suspect list?”

“That'll take too long. There's gotta be a faster way.” Gideon shakes his head. Hotch dons on something. “There is.”

FBI - LOBBY -- DAY–

Hotch hands a cup to Mrs. Slessman. “Here. This might be a little hot.” Hotch sits across from Mrs. Slessman. “Mrs. Slessman, I don't think we've got the right guy. I think the person we're looking for might be a friend of Richard's.”

“Richard never had many friends.”

“You sure? There's gotta be someone.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - BEDROOM - DAY–

Morgan is on the phone. “Hey, it's Morgan. Need you to work me some magic here. I got a

program called Deadbolt Defense and a girl with only a couple of hours to live, so what do you know?”

“Then you've got a problem. Deadbolt's the number one password crack-resistant software out there. You're gonna have to get inside this guy's head to get the password.”

“I thought I was calling the 'Office of Supreme Genius'.”

“Well, gorgeous, you've been rerouted to the office of 'TooFriggin' Bad.'”

“Thanks anyway.”

FBI - OFFICE - DAY-

In the nearby office, Gideon and the others listen in on Hotchner's conversation with Mrs. Slessman. “Well, there was ... there was this one young man. I think his name was Charlie.”

“Cross-reference Charlie for the second Unsub.” Elle types it in and gets a result. “Charlie is probably Charles Linder. He was Slessman's cellmate and received a dishonorable discharge from the military.” Gideon uncrosses one of his arms to gesture. “He's bigger, tougher. He could have protected Richard in prison. Where were they incarcerated?”

“Cascadia. Less than a mile from here.”

“Let's go.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - BATHROOM -- DAY–

Morgan closes the bathroom medicine cabinet. He's reading the label off of a prescription bottle. “My name is Richard Slessman, and I have trouble sleeping.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - RICHARD'S BEDROOM -- DAY–

Morgan is lying flat out on Richard's bed. Derek exhales. “Okay. What do I do when I'm trying to get to sleep?” He reaches up into the headboard cubbyhole and grabs a handful of CDs. He looks at them and grabs the portable CD player and headset. He looks inside and finds it empty. He looks on the side of the room and sees the CD rack. He gets up. “Guys, a little help. We're going through every one of these CDs -- scratches, wear and tear. I wanna know which CD he plays the most. Let's go.”

FBI - OFFICE -- DAY–

Hotchner enters the office and heads for Graham and Reid. “We get an address on Linder?”

“It's coming right now.” Spencer says as he looks at the fax printout. Hotchner hands something to the agent sitting at the desk. “Does senior management want a field assessment on Gideon?” I ask Hotch.

“Don't worry about it.” Hotch says quietly, Spencer tilts his head with furrowed brows “Are they nervous about him being in charge?”

“Aren't you two on your way back to Slessman's house to help Morgan?” Hotchner turns and walks away for a moment. “Do you know why he always introduces me as Dr. Reid?’ Hotchner turns and heads back toward Reid. “Because he knows that people see you Both as kids, and he wants to make sure that they respect you. What's the address?’

“Don't think it matters anymore.” Hotchner sighs. They look at the fax printout.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - BEDROOM -- NIGHT–

Reid sits cross-legged in the center of Richard's bed, opened and discarded CDs

litter the bed and floor around the bed. He fiddles with a CD, flipping it around as he thinks. He gets something.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC-- NIGHT –

Morgan is up in the attic pacing the floor. “Aw, c'mon. I need a password. I need a password.” He grumbles as He looks around the attic. “What am I looking for? What could I possibly be

looking for?” I’m trying to get the CD player on the Laptop to open. I need some type of pick. Morgan sits down and sighs. “I've been thinking about the CDs.” Reid enters the attic carrying an open paper clip. “Dr. Reid! That paperclip, I need it.” I have my hands open to catch the paperclip.

“Oh, Reid, come on. We tried the CDs. We searched, sifted, and sorted through every one of this guy's head-banging heavy metal collection. We gotta find something, or this girl is dead.”

Reid Tosses me the paper clip and I start fiddling with the laptop. “Im telling you Morgan. His favorite is in here.”

“What are you doing?” Morgan furrows his brows as I slide the CD holder open and finds a

Metallica disk inside.“what made you Both think of this?”

“It was the only empty case.” Reid says, and I just shrug. “Its the only place that holds CD’s that wasnt opened”

“All right. I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to go to sleep at night. What song could possibly speak to me?” Morgan responds.

Reid Furrows his brows, he must be in thought. He looks up quickly. “Enter Sandman”

FBI - INTERVIEW ROOM -- NIGHT–

Hotchner talking with Richard. “We found out Heather was buying a used car. You know how car

salesmen get us to buy a car? They call it reciprocity. They drop the price and ... feels like they've done us a favor. We feel obligated. There's a sudden pressure to reciprocate this one little favor. And it's so powerful that we'll ... put a deposit down on a car we're not even sure we really want.” Hotch explains.

“So what?”

“So Vogel did you a favor. He protected you in prison, and now you feel like you owe him and you need to protect him. Guys like Vogel learn in the schoolyard which kids to bully and which kids to protect, and he's got you convinced that you owe him so much that you'll go to jail for him. Richard ...I'm here to remind you of something. You owe him nothing.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC - NIGHT –

Morgan is on his cell phone. “Gideon, Heather's alive.”

“How do you know?” Morgan kneels down in front of the laptop. Reid, Graham and the other agents are huddled around the monitor as well. “'Cause we're watching her right now.” On the monitor is a live Webcam viewer of Heather Woodland inside the cage. Video close-up shows Heather taped and gagged inside.

CAR (MOVING) - NIGHT-

Gideon is on the phone. “Hotch, he's gonna kill her. He's heading there now. We need a

location.”

“I don't have enough time to get it out of him.” “Find something, Hotch, or that girl is dead.”

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC - NIGHT -

Reid, Graham and Morgan watch the monitor. “Morgan, can you show me the last twelve images lined up next to each other?” I ask softly, and move closer to the screen. “Yeah.”

With a couple clicks the images line up, filling the monitor. “Right there. You see that? The light bulb hanging from the Wire?” I point on the monitor, Reid smiles at me. I smile back akwardly And look at Morgan.

“Yeah, what about it?” Morgan raises a brow. “It's shifting positions like it's swaying ... like the earth is tilting.” Spencer says, getting hat I’m putting down. “Not the earth, Doc. The ocean.” I say with a breath. We all look at each other.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC - NIGHT-

“It's a pier or a dock. He wouldn't be able to transmit the Webcam image from the middle of the ocean.” Morgan says over the phone. “You're sure about this.” Hotch asks, “It's the best we got, Hotch. Even if we're right, getting the exact location's on you, my friend.”

“What is it you always ask Garcia?” Hotch sounds like hes smiling through the phone. “To work me a little magic.”

FBI - INTERVIEW ROOM - NIGHT-

“Just to let you know ... Gideon's talking to Vogel ... and Vogel's nailing you to the wall.” Hotchner walks around the room. “Yeah, whatever.” Slessman scoffs. “He said it was your idea to keep the girls on a boat. He's talking, Richard. Reciprocity. Tell me where she is, and we make a deal. Is it a dock? A pier?” Hotch leans on the table. Slessman’s eyes widen. “It's a shipyard. Allied Shipyard.”

ALLIED SHIPYARD -- NIGHT–

The dark-colored car pulls into the shipyard and stops. Elle and Gideon get out of the car and look around the area.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC - NIGHT -

The video cam updates and we see Tim Vogel is there inside the room. “Guys, he's inside.” Vogel unlocks the cage and removes the chain. “Get Elle on the phone.” Reid gets his phone out to make the call.

ALLIED SHIPYARD - NIGHT-

Gideon walks down the ramp, his gun out. He opens the gate and enters the

fenced-off area.

SLESSMAN RESIDENCE - ATTIC - NIGHT–

Morgan is on the phone with Elle. “Listen to me. You need to wait for backup.”

“If we wait, the girl is dead.”

“And if we had waited in Boston –”

“I can't. You told me to trust my instincts.”

ALLIED SHIPYARD -BOAT - NIGHT–

Vogel opens the cage door and reaches for Heather. She's on the floor Sleeping. “Come on.” He starts dragging her out toward the door by pulling her ankles. She frees one leg and kicks him in the head. Heather gets up and tries to run. She hits her head on something. Still, she runs and manages to get out of the room and out onto the boat deck.

Vogel follows her. Unable to see, Heather starts crawling away from him. He grabs her from behind and pulls her up. “Stop!” Vogel looks up and sees Gideon headed his way. “Stop.”

“Get back!” Gideon is on the walkway toward the boat.”I'll shoot her.”

“I wouldn't. If I were you, I'd aim the gun at me. You shoot the girl, you got nothing.” Gideon says as he slowly approaches the Unsub. “Get ... back!” “Shoot me instead. Come on. What, are you a lousy shot?” Gideon moves his gun to the side, his arms spread out. “Fifty feet away. You got a perfect shot. Shoot me.”

“You think I'm stupid?” Vogel gets internally defensive. “I think you're an absolute moron. I know all about ya, Tim. You're at the gym five times a week. You drive a flashy car, you stink of cologne, and you can't get it up. Not even Viagra's workin' for ya. You know what that tells me? That tells me you are hopelessly compensating, and it's not just in your head. It is physical. What did the girls call you in high school? What'd they come up with when you fumbled your way into some girl's pants, and she started laughing when she got a good look at just how little you had to offer?”

“Shut up!”

“Short stack? Very little Vogel? I got it. Tiny Tim.” Vogel pushes Heather away from him and points his gun at Gideon. Elle shoots and hits him a couple of times. Vogel fires at Gideon, hitting him in the chest. Vogel goes down. Gideon goes down. He slumps back against the chain railing.

“Gideon!” Elle heads over to check on Gideon. Heather gets to her feet and yells as she cries. “You okay?”

“I'm fine. Go look after the girl.” Elle runs over to Heather and puts her arms around her. Heather cries. In the distance, sirens approach.

ALLIED SHIPYARD -- DAY-

Heather is on a gurney as Gideon looks down at her. He puts a hand on her forehead, turns and leaves as the EMTs put Heather into the back of an ambulance. Gideon walks away. Hotchner and Morgan sit on the side watching Gideon. “So what kind of report do they want on him?’

“I suppose whether he's fit to be a field agent. You know, Haley and I were looking at a baby names book. Well, guess what Gideon means in Hebrew.” Hotch says as Reid passes by and hears the question. “Mighty warrior. Appropriate.” Reid says and walks away. Hotchner smiles at him. “So what are you gonna tell them?” Morgan asks. “What would you say?”

“Gideon saved her life. That's good enough for me.” Morgan says and stands up and leaves Hotchner there.

AIRPLANCE (MOVING) - EVENING-

Morgan is sleeping in his seat, the file he's reading off to the side. Reid is lying across several chairs, his jacket covering himself like a blanket. He rolls over and clutches his jacket closer. Graham is talking to her Dad on the phone. Gideon is awake. Hotchner walks over to him with a cup of coffee in his hand. He sits on the armrest across the aisle from Gideon. “Hey.”

“You and Haley pick the baby's name yet?” Asks Gideon as he looks around at his team members. “It's funny ... Haley liked the name Charles, but, you know … all I could think of …” Hotch shakes his head with a soft laugh. “Manson” “Henry” “Lee Lucas”

“Uh ... Jeffrey.” “Dahmer.”

“There's just too many of them.”

“Kind of hard to feel good about catching one when you know there are fifty more still out there.” Hotchner stands up. “How's your report going?” Hotchner smiles and scratches his head. He's busted. “Didn't think you could hide that from an old profiler, now, did ya?” “You know, you saved that girl today. You can feel good about that.”

“It is good. It's a good thing.” Hotchner puts a hand on Gideon's shoulder. He turns and walks away.

#twistedminds #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds x oc #hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #Spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #cm #penelope garcia

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emberfrostlovesloki · 27 days ago

Text

Leave Me Whole, and Let Me Be Untouched by the Sun [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@fear0phobia) Center (@@noseysilverfox) Right (@mysterygoo)

Prompt: An unsub is strangling people in New Orleans, and he keeps escalating. Once he gets Emily as a victim, the team, and the reader, will never be the same again, but they have no idea what will happen to their teammate and friend and how it will hurt them.

Pairing: Emily x BAU-Reader

Category: Angst/Whump

Word Count: 8.8K

Content Warnings: Major character death, many forms of suffocation, mention of OD’s and a shooting, depression, and despair, brief mention of food and alcohol. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! Here is the second whump fic after October is over (uh-oh)! I know the month is over but from me the whump will continue a while longer as I have four other whump fics planned. My writing this took some time but I was happy when I was writing rather than stressed, so I think that’s a good thing. That being said, thank you to everyone who has kept up with me, or to any new readers or followers! Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

y/n = your name

The case started out as a normal one. The team packed into the briefing room with Hotch giving the details and Penelope running the tech. Then on the jet ride to New Orleans, the BAU tossed ideas back and forth like a tennis ball at the Grand Slam. The killer had a surprisingly high kill count. Derek and Spencer had been shocked that they hadn’t been called in sooner. The MO had one tie-through for all of the victims. Suffocation, or loss of air until expiration.

There had been five drowning in the Mississippi, and the police had attributed it to drunkenness after a late night on Bourbon Street. New Orleans had a lot of drowning each year. Then there there had been three victims that had OD’d and asphyxiated on their own vomit. It wasn’t until more traditional methods of strangulation were used that the police started putting some of these ideas together. Those methods included wire around the neck, use of the hands, suffocation with a pillow, and the most dramatic was when a man had been hung from the roof of a building with his arms tied behind his back. The victim was blindfolded and had a note attached to his chest reading: The Night Breather Strikes Again! To say the scene had caused panic and uproar in the city was an understatement.

y/n was looking over her file and said, “So he’s escalating. I mean that last victim looked like someone from an Eli Roth movie. This unsub wants attention and the media is giving it to him. I just don’t know how the paranoia of the city is going to help him.” Emily smiled. Even though y/n was pretty new to the team, she had picked up so much, not to mention that she had fallen madly in love with the slightly younger agent. Em cleared her throat and said, “It probably doesn’t, but he has to have the attention and validation to feel anything anymore about his kills. But how do you escalate past that?”

y/n looked up and caught Prentiss’s eye, there was a warm flicker of desire there and y/n blushed slightly, looking back at her case file until she looked normal again. Hotch hadn’t really approved of their relationship, but he hadn’t stopped it either. He’d only issued an ultimatum, “No PDA of any sort on cases. What you do with the rest of your time is up to you, I guess.” When he added that last epitaph, y/n, and Emily had to hold back peals of laughter, it was something they joked about often now. Despite their relationship status, they still were always locked in on cases. It hadn’t been an issue for either of them yet, and they planned on keeping it that way. After all, they were both adults and no matter how head over heels they were, the job came first.

New Orleans was abuzz with activity when they landed and headed to the police station. Mardi Gras was a week away and businesses were prepping for the hoard of tourists and outsiders that the festivities would bring. Rossi looked at the lead investigator on the case and asked, “What are you doing to prep for the Mardi Gras crowd?” The younger male huffed and said, “Well, we’ve left fliers at all the bars and restaurants, and we’ve told the owners to call us immediately if they see something off, but after Katrina, this, summer and Spring Break are our busy season, and I doubt anyone is going to want to scare away business on those nights. I’ve also assigned teams of officers apart from those just on the street for the parades to be on the lookout, but I don’t know if it will do any good.”

Dave nodded and said, “We’ll have one of our agents create a geographic profile, it might give you a better idea of where to concentrate your officers instead of just using manpower. Officer Stevenson nodded and looked like he hadn’t understood anything that Rossi had just said. Dave turned to Spencer and shouted, “Reid, can we get a geographic profile in a few hours?” Spence nodded and moved toward an officer to get the files he needed to make the profile.

While this was all happening, Aaron, Morgan, y/n, and Emily were en route to two of the scenes. Hotch and Derek were taking the first and would be dropped off. The second scene was only a few blocks in the other direction, so they all figured they’d ride together and if anything interesting came up at either site they’d phone each other. The two men arrived at their destination and hopped out, and then Em and y/n were driven to the next scene. A lot seemed to be going on at the site, but y/n realized that some construction was happening near the yellow tape. There was a backhoe and a concrete mixer standing still and y/n turned to the officer and asked, “Did you stop this construction once the body was found?” The officer who had driven them nodded and replied, “Yes, ma’am. It was actually the lead on this project that found the body and called us.

Em looked at y/n with interest and said, “Can you give us the name and number of the man? We’d like to speak to him.” The officer nodded and replied, “Sure, I just need to look it up in the case notes. It’ll only take a minute.” Emily stopped the man from returning the cruiser and asked, “What is it they’re doing here construction-wise anyway? No offense, but this doesn’t look like a spot that needs to be repaired much.” By that statement, Emily meant the small plot of land they were standing on looked like a small tornado had passed through only a few nights ago. The officer gave a chuckle and replied, “None taken. If you can believe it or not there’s a hidden bunker behind the storm drain. It’s a decent depth down. Seven feet or so. It’s the remnants from the Cold War, but of course, it was never needed and after Katrina, well you can imagine what it looked like inside after that. y/n, who had been listening in asked, “So what are you doing to it?” y/n was a bit of a history nerd, and a small part of her would love to go down and see what the inside looked like now.

The officer looked between the two women, surprised by this diversion, but replied, “Well, a lot of the homeless used it for shelter for a good while, but last month two high school kids OD’d down there on meth, so the city saw it fit to fill in the entrance with concrete. That way no one else could get hurt down there. I’ve never been down myself, but I’ve heard some wild stories like allegedly the lights still work. It can’t be real, but it’s fun to talk about.”

Em raised an eyebrow as the man got excited. He noticed her expression and excused himself to get back to the cruiser and find them the information they had asked for. Once the man was gone, the agents moved to the real scene but didn’t find much that was helpful. It was a very isolated and lowlight area which might help with a profile, but other than that there was no important information to gain. y/n sighed; she had hoped for more. Despite this, she stayed cheerful and said, “Once we have that info let’s walk over to Hotch and Morgan. Maybe they could use some help and we can tell Hotch the new information.”

Em nodded and said, “Plus we can get a sense of where the car must have come from to drag the body here. I wish we knew if they were killed on the scene or dropped somewhere else.” y/n furrowed her brow and replied, “Let me call Garcia and get the lividy from this victim of this scene, that will give us a better idea.” Prentiss smiled and replied, “And this is why I love you, you always know who to call.” y/n smiled back and replied, “You’re too nice to me, you know that right?”

Back at Hotch’s scene, y/n told him about the man who had found the fifth body. He nodded remembering when the officers had told him about it at the precinct. Apparently, he had nothing to add, but y/n asked, “Mind if I meet with him again? I just think he could be one of those people who want to be part of the investigation. This killer needs validation and what’s more validating than reporting a crime you committed?” Aaron nodded and said, “Go for it. Have Spencer in the room with you. I’d like two people in there in case either of you misses something.” y/n agreed and moved back to the police station to set up the interview while Emily was chatting with Derek about this scene.

A few hours later, y/n was sitting next to Spencer and across from Tim Baldwin in an interrogation room of the police building. There was something very odd about the man as if he was putting out waves of cool emotion. It made y/n shiver for a second before she composed herself. This wasn’t an interrogation, after all, just getting information. However, Reid had suggested the room as an intimidation tactic and y/n had agreed.

“Mr. Baldwin, could you explain the scene you came upon when you found the victim? Please be detailed and tell not only what you saw, but how you got to work that morning.” Tim looked up from the metal table and started rhythmically tapping the side of his chair He said in a slow, deep voice, “I told the police already, but if you ask., I arrived at 6:20 AM at the construction site. The work day starts at 7:00 and I was getting ready for the other boys to pull up. I had some coffee in my truck. My headlights were on and I noticed a strange pile of blankets that hadn’t been there when we’d finished up yesterday.” y/n nodded along taking some notes. “I stepped out. I thought it might be a homeless person. We’d cordoned off the area and I was gonna try and get them to move. When I moved the blanket, I wasn’t ready for what I saw.”

The man seemed to slow his cadence which was very monosyllabic and monotone for someone with such an interesting voice. Spencer asked, “Can you describe what you saw and what you did next?” The man nodded and replied, picking at a hangnail on his thumb, “Well there was a feller’ and his face was white and blue. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I moved back real fast. Kinda gave me a shock.” From the way the man said it, it didn’t seem like he was shocked at all. Baldwin continued, “Then I called up the cops, and texted the boys to wait for an hour to come in. I figured you didn’t all need seven other brutes kicking up dust on someone so important. I heard of those other kill’ins, figured this was one of ‘em.”

y/n nodded before asking, “How well do you know this city, Mr. Baldwin?” Tim seemed slightly surprised by this question but finally answered, “As well as any native-born I ‘spose. It’s a big city with lots of places, but I can give directions as well as anyone.”

y/n knew she’d never ask this man for directions. There was something inherently off about him. Reid then asked a few questions, and after they let him go. Once he was out of the room, y/n looked at Spencer not even sure what to say. Spence let out a sigh and said, “Well, he’s a character at least.” y/n nodded and said, “I always thought the ‘characters’ would be the easiest to read and they’re not.” Reid nodded and said, “I don’t think it’s him. He was just so clinical about the whole thing.” y/n bit the inside of her lip and said, “Let’s see if Garcia can pull up some medical records on him. I’m wondering if he’s on the spectrum. Not that means anything, but it might explain some of the behavior.” Spencer agreed and said, “I think that’s a good thing. Let’s gather some thoughts for Hotch and Rossi, they’re going to want to know what we found out.”

Later that evening, late, the team was back and working at the precinct. y/n had slipped off to get another coffee when Emily snuck in behind her. y/n yawned widely and Em said, “Can I help you with that?” y/n whipped around with her cup which sloshed a bit of hot coffee on her. “Shit, fuck” y/n whispered as she set down her cup. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed and she stepped forward grabbing some napkins and patting her girlfriend's hands saying, “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you were holding something.” As Em kept patting her hands and looking into her eyes. y/n leaned in a pecked the brunette woman’s cheek before saying, “It’s okay, Em. I think I’ll survive.” Prentiss gave one of her beaming smiles leaned against the counter and let out a breath. There was a soft moment of silence between them as y/n raised her cup to her lips and took a hesitant sip of caffeine.

After a moment, Emily asked, “Have you ever been to New Orleans before?” y/n turned her head to look at Em and replied, “Only on a layover when I was kid, but I’ve always had this stupid dream about it.” Prentiss turned and asked, “What stupid dream?” y/n chuckled and replied, “Well when I was young I thought it would be fun to have a lot of money. Enough money to fly out here on a private jet in the middle of the night and go to Cafe Dumont and get a coffee and beignets at 2:00 AM by the river. Just be in a city like this whenever I wanted. In my mind, I was always wearing a blue ballgown and ludicrously high heels, which are really impractical for this city.” Emily took y/n’s hand and gave it a squeeze. It was always nice to hear her inner thoughts and dreams that she rarely shared. Em said, “Hey, maybe one day we can do that. I’m not sure about the private jet, but the rest of it. We could make that happen.” y/n smiled and said, “You’re so romantic. I love you.” Em booped y/n’s nose and replied, “I know. Now, we’d best get back to work.”

The next two days were relatively quiet. Interviewing friends and family. Building out the profile. The team had decided that the man killed his victims in one place and dropped the bodies in another. The wait for something to happen was making the team's skin itch. No new developments could mean a few things like the unsub had gone back into hiding, the unsub was planning, or the killing spree was over. The first and last options were the best, but the most unlikely. With the unsubs escalation, it could be moments before they struck again. That theory was proven correct as the next morning again at 5:00 AM a dock worker pulled a flatbed into a deep freezing unit where the young man was shocked and horrified to find three bodies, frozen, mouths agape as if gasping for air.

Derek was pacing as usual outside the crime scene as the victims were identified. These, unlike the first slew of the dead, were older or elderly folks. Morgan turned to the ground and said, “The escalation means the unsub kills more than one person. Not just three random people in three random places, but three people that he brings together. Maybe those folks even knew each other.” Hotch nodded and replied, “Sounds about right, but let’s not jump to whether they knew each other or not. Only a solid ID will tell us that.” y/n was biting her nail, a bad habit of hers when she chimed in, “But these victims are older. So the unsub can kill more people, but they can’t all be young or strong. So that tells us something about his physicality at least.” The rest of the group nodded along and continued talking as they waited. Surprisingly, much of the job was infuriatingly waiting, waiting, and more waiting.

The scene and the cops ramped up and kept ramping up until the first night of Mardi Gras. Being able to have any control was very hard. The team was working on Bourbon Street, as were most of the Police force. Things were crazy and the amount of ambulances for people getting alcohol poisoning and ODing on drinks and drugs was astronomical. y/n was in the fray with Spencer and she shouted over a very loud jazz band saying, “This is madness. Why would anyone choose to come here for this.” Reid wasn’t handling the drunken crowd any better than y/n and replied, “Beat’s me. I don’t know how we’re supposed to be doing anything useful right now. We don’t need an unsub when we’ve got this going on.”

On the other side of the square, Emily was with JJ and noticed something fishy by the corner of the Catholic church. Em’s continued gaze to the far corner of the square caught JJ’s eye and she asked, “What do you see over there, Em?” Prentiss fixed her earpiece and replied, “I think something might be happening over there. Someone’s down and I can’t figure out if the person standing over them is a friend or a stranger.” The liaison nodded and asked, “Should I inform the team?” Em shook her head no and stated, “Nah. They wouldn’t get here fast enough anyway to help. Let me just go over there and see what’s going on.” JJ didn’t like that idea, however, she didn’t object as Emily quickly moved away from her. JJ’s eyes never left Prentiss’s form, but it started to get harder to see her as the crowds swarmed around her.

There were a few loud pops and a bang from the center of the square and JJ’s head whipped in that direction. It took a few moments to realize that some fool had just set off firecrackers, but the police were now running toward the situation to hand out a ticket most likely, and others were fleeing, afraid that there might be a gun somewhere. By the time JJ had figured this out, she let out an annoyed breath and moved back to look for Em, but she was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, the blond liaison started slowly moving through the crowd toward where she’d last seen Emily. When she got to the spot, a pool of dread opened in her when she saw Prentiss’s badge, earpiece, and cell phone, all smashed like they had been stomped on hard. “Shit,” muttered JJ before getting the team on comms and saying urgently, “Y’all, we have a problem. I lost Emily and now I found her badge, phone, and earpiece on the ground.” There was an oppressive moment of silence before Hotch crackled on the line with his full authority, “JJ, what’s your location?” JJ responded and then Aaron continued, “We all meet at JJ’s location stat.” With that, the line went dead.

y/n felt her world reel at the information that Emily might be gone. Taken by the unsub. She took five deep breaths and started pushing through the most crowded part of the plaza. She had to remind herself that despite her fear, it could be something else. Also, Emily still had her gun, and Emily with a gun was a bad day for any unsub. y/n thought, ‘Emily is smart and capable. She wouldn’t intentionally get taken. If she was, I know she’s putting up a hell of a fight’ It took y/n far longer to get to JJ’s location than she wanted, but she was the first there. She was already pulling on gloves as she saw JJ. y/n just nodded at the liaison before kneeling down to look at Emily’s things. She didn’t touch them because there might be evidence on the items. y/n looked up at JJ and said, “Let’s try and start to set a perimeter. We need this scene as clean as possible. It will make finding Emily easier.” The two women just started that task when Morgan and Hotch sprinted to them. As the team gathered, there was nothing in y/n that thought she wouldn’t get to see and hug Em again, She was sure, more sure than she’d ever been that they’d find her. With that hope, the start of the long four days began. It was also the start of the rest of y/n’s life; she just didn’t know it yet.

When Emily woke it was dark and musty smelling, like rot and petrichor. She tried to roll onto her back but found it impossible to do. This limitation woke her more. She must have been out, as she had no conception of what time it was or where she was. Prentiss opened her eyes and everything was a bit blurry. There were some old yellow-brown lights above her that looked like they’d come from a science lab in the 60s. She also realized that the scent of earth moss and earthy wetness was correct as she was lying on a large patch of what must have been a greenish-brown moss that was slippery to the touch. She was handcuffed to a lab table that was bolted to the floor. She tried at the cuffs a few times, but for now, she couldn’t see a way out of them. Part of the room seemed to be slightly cleaned, but most of it seemed at least a decade old. One notable thing about the room was how cold and clammy the air was. Emily suspected that she might be underground in a hideout somewhere. Perhaps the unsub was keeping her here until he felt like killing again. Killing a federal agent would up the escalation factor for sure.

Finally, after Em’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness beyond the faint halogen square of light around the center of the space, Em noticed the most interesting, and horrifying part of the room. All along the floor and even on crudely built shelves on the wall were the bodies of at least fifty dead bodies in various states of decay. Prentiss leaned to the side and vomited. She spat to clean her mouth and pulled a cuffed hand to get the spittle off her chapped lips. There was no mistaking it, this must be where the unsub strangled his victims.

Why these bodies hadn’t been displayed Emily couldn’t know. She hoped she’d get to ask the unsub about it. Perhaps he was a perfectionist and these people hadn’t died “right?” Emily knew that talking was her best weapon right now. She didn’t have her gun, she was confined, she didn’t know what time it was or how long she’d been there. The last thing she remembered from the packed square was leaning down next to somebody who had been shot, and then feeling a cloth over her mouth that smelled funny. Then it was lights out.

As all of this was coming to Emily there was a loud rumbling noise above and to the side of her like she was sleeping under a very high bridge. Em tried to scream for help, hoping whoever was above her might hear her. However, her cry was more cough than sound. Prentiss found her mouth and throat very dry from the cold and whatever had been used to knock her out. Clearing her throat again, Em shouted, “Help, please, HELP ME. Can you hear me?” Even if Emily’s plea for aid could be heard above the rumble of the trailer holding the concrete, the man driving the vehicle wouldn’t have been inclined to help her.

In the light of some worklamps, and against the orders of the police, Mr. Baldwin readjusted his hard hat as he turned on the flow from the concrete mixer. The flow of the building material was slow, like lava. This would be his piece de resistance. Now all he had to do was keep those pesky FBI agents away for at least a week. He had things timed to a T, so every three hours he very carefully placed wrapped packages in the slowly pooling grey sludge. He’d already rigged the top of the old bomb shelter, he was just making sure that if he was found out before the concrete was mostly dried, that nothing could be done. Tim had taken down the police barrier and he assumed with the whole force working on Mardi Gras patrol, there would be less attention paid to places decently far from the city center and far off the main road.

Once the Chief of police had asked him to fill in the old bomb shelter the idea had come to him. He was so obsessed with showing off and looking at his collection of bodies that he’d even moved his old kills into the shelter. He’d put up caution and his work zone sign tape and no one questioned him as he moved in the early morning. But like all great masterpieces, they could be easily ruined by a careless teenager getting high, or a homeless person finding his creation. So he was taking precautions. He was putting a top coat on his work to keep it the same forever. Sure he’d be unable to go back inside the see the bodies, but it’d only be so long before he got asked to do something like this again. Katria had opened many doors for contractors and he was one of the best independent workers in the city. His rates couldn’t be beat, which meant he was invited everywhere.

Fourty-two hours later, y/n hadn’t slept a wink and was pacing. Her eyes were red and looked slightly crazed. Morgan was looking at her from across the room and she snapped “What Derek? For the last time, I’m not going to take a nap. Now can you look somewhere else?” Derek dropped his arms and y/n’s shoulders fell as she put her head in her hands. Derek moved over to her and gave her a small embrace, patting her lower back as y/n composed herself. y/n sniffled and she rasped, “I’m sorry Derek. I don’t know what to do anymore. What to think.” The team had started the first hour strong looking for Emily. The police had cleared the square, but that had taken over an hour. The people that seemed suspicious had all turned out as dud leads.

Not only was there that, but three more bodies had shown up around the town leaving the police and the BAU struggling for manpower and resources to handle everything going on. Rossi had suggested that y/n and Morgan stay behind and keep looking for Em while the rest of the team went to handle the new scenes. Rossi thought he was doing y/n a kindness by letting her look for Emily, and y/n was glad, but at the same time, it was driving her crazy that she couldn’t do more. A hair had been found on Emily’s wallet that wasn’t hers, but the testing was taking what felt like forever. There were no fingerprints on Prentiss's items except her own. There were no texts or calls in Em’s logs from Verison’s report either.

Chief Kranic walked into the room where y/n and Morgan were holed up. He was holding his notepad and walkie. Once he knocked on the door and stepped inside, y/n pulled away from Derek and stood for more of attention. Morgan looked over to the portly man who’d seen one or two muffaletas in his day asking, “What is it, Chief?” Kranic looked worried and said, “Now we have an off-duty officer missing. The men think it might be your unsub ‘fella and they’re getting anxious.” y/n nodded and asked, “Where was the last scene?” Mogan’s head snapped to y/n and he said, “You’re not thinking of going out on the field right now, are you?” y/n let out a tiny huff. They didn’t need to be arguing in front of the officer. She replied neutrally, “We can talk about it once we have more information. Chief?” The large man took a few minutes to relay the information and both agents took notes. Once Kranic was out of the room y/n said, “Derek, please. I can’t keep staying here. I’ll go crazy with worry over Emily. Please let me do this.”

Morgan almost said, “You know that’s what JJ said to Em before she got taken, right?” But he stopped himself just in time. He tried to think of himself in y/n’s shoes and he understood. Finally, he gave a sharp nod and replied, “Go with a team of officers, and y/n, don’t do anything stupid out there. I’m going to call or text you every hour, alright.” y/n nodded. There was a hint of thanks in y/n’s eyes and as she brushed past him to grab her gun from the table, she gave his shoulder a small pat before moving out the door.

Emily had fallen asleep and when she woke up again it was much darker this time. The lights were still on, but with how gloomy the space was now, she realized that she must have woken during the day or there had been some opening to the outside somewhere, but all was darkness now. The air also felt more stifled and musty. Her nose had become slightly adjusted to the scent of rot, though it was not a pleasant smell. In the darkness, she could just see a few parts of the bodies in the room with her. Pointy noses and chins and feet barely lit up. Skulls looking back at her. Emily closed her eyes and shuddered. She could break. She could let this situation break her, but she knew the team was looking for her. That y/n would be sick with worry for her. Emily couldn’t leave her love like that. She had to get back to y/n so she wouldn’t be so worried. It was for y/n that Em held strong.

A little while later, Em woke from her trance-like state when a crackly voice came from the ceiling asking, “Are you still alive in there you little pest? You’ve got lots of air and I think I need to speed this up.” Emily coughed surprised that any kind of intercom would be in whatever place she was in. There was a small laugh as the man speaking to her said, “I hear you coughing in there. Wanna chat? It will be the last one you’ll have.” Emily grit her teeth and replied, “Don’t count you’re chicken’s before they’re hatched.” There was another laugh and then the hardly audible reply, “Humans are always so confident. They are so sure that everything will turn out for them, well I know, you’re not making it out of this one Agent Prentiss.”

This scenario of speaking with the unsub was not how she expected it to happen. Speaking face to face could give lots of clues, but a faceless badly modulated voice from a speaker from the ceiling was much less easy. Emily settled for just getting a handle on her situation. The man had spoken about her having a lot of air, and she worried about what that meant.

Putting on a strong voice Emily replied, “You certainly like playing god, so tell me, am I on an ark? My team will find me eventually - where exactly am I? You’re so confident that they can’t save me, you can tell me.” There was a prolonged pause, and Emily was afraid she might have pressed too hard. Thankfully there was a reply. The man seemed as confident as ever, “You Agent Prentiss are in an ark, an ark of concrete that is slowly drying. No way in or out. You will soon become like those other pretty people on the walls. I hope you’re comfortable because you’ll be here for a long time. And speaking of time, I think I’m going to speed up the process a little.” There was a swishing sound like a small fan or vacuum which, to her dismay, Emily realized was sucking air out of the mid-sized room. Prentiss felt the panic rise up in her again and she started hyperventilating. Tim assumed that Emily was doing what she was doing and said one last thing: “You’d better stop doing that, Agent, you’ll kill yourself faster. Now if I were you, I’d get comfortable with your gods.”

The next day after more bodies were found but no clues toward Emiy’s location, the team was haggard. Hotch was leaning against a desk rubbing his eyes. He was just as tired and worried about Emily as the rest of the team. He was close to an officer when their radio went off. The message was: “This is Unit 72. We have something strange on Lockwood.” The officer at the desk clicked his radio and said, “This is Fernandez, please report, over.” “Well, Mr. Baldwin and some of his equipment are out on lot 3. He seems to be sitting in his truck. Looks like he’s finished the job and I just went over there last week to tell him to hold off on construction.” Hotch furrowed his brow. Lockwood sounded oddly familiar and so did the name of Baldwin. He had a feeling in his gut and he turned to y/n asking, “y/n didn’t you talk to a Baldwin a few days ago?” y/n looked up from the file she was reading and nodded her head saying, “Yeah, Tim Baldwin. He was a contractor. He seemed very odd, but nothing came up.”

Hotch stood up straight and said, “I think we have something. Get the rest of the team, we’re going to Lockwood and wherever the hell lot 3 is.” The BAU rushed to where Tim was sitting in the cab of his pickup truck. Aaron, a few officers, and Morgan took point. Chief Kranic pulled out a mic and leaned out the door of his cruiser saying, “Mr. Baldwin, put your hands on the wheel of your car and don’t move. We have seven guns on you right now. Nod your head if you agree.” y/n, Spencer and Rossi watched as Baldwin nodded his head. Kranic continued loudly, “Good, now slowly place your hands on the wheel.” The unsub did as he was told and as soon as his hands were safely on the wheel the team rushed in. An officer opened the door and Hotch pulled the working man from his car and onto the ground where Rossi cuffed and read him his Miranda Rights. The second it was over Aaron said, “Where is Agent Prentiss!” The unsub laughed and pointed his chin toward the newly poured concrete saying, “Down there mister.”

y/n was now by the group's side and her eyes widened. Hotch still didn’t fully understand and barked, “What does that mean?” y/n stepped in front of Aaron and replied, “There’s an old bunker down there. Emily might still be alive. He’s just locked her in.” A small glint of hope crossed over Aaron’s eyes until there was a shout from Spencer over on the side of the lot. The BAU left Tim in the hands of the police to put him in a car as they all rushed to Reid’s side. There was a vent and cool air was coming out of it. y/n became more panicked as she saw this and turned to Spence asking, “How do we stop it? How do we get the vent to cycle air back into Emily.”

Reid bit the inside of his lip and said “I don’t know if this has a return value it might be a ventilator only. y/n started pacing and said, “So what do we do? Em’s down there.” Aaron looked at y/n and his stern gaze calmed her slightly as he said, “We’ll get a tech out here and see what can be done. If not getting air in, then stop the flow out. We’ll also get some construction workers and a civil engineer to see what we do about the concrete or digging her out from the top. Rossi nodded and said, “I’ll call Garcia, she’ll get people out here faster than legal.”

Aaron nodded and moved toward Spencer who was still standing by the vent. Hotch looked at the young genius and asked, “Any clue how much air she might have down there?” Reid shook his head and said, “I can’t say unless I have the specifics of the room, how long Emily has been down there and how long this vent has been on. My guess is that she has a few hours left, but that’s just a very very unsubstantiated guess.” Hotch didn’t like those odds and he moved over the the police car and opened the door to see Baldwin. Without hesitation, Aaron grabbed Baldwin by the collar and said, with his face an inch from the unsubs, “How big is that room? How long has Agent Prentiss been in there for?” The unsub seemed unphased and replied, Oh I don’t have exact stats on the room, but you’re girls been in there for about three days now. She was still conscious last I talked to her which is surprising given she has no water. Maybe she’s been drinking her piss.”

The statement from the man-made Aaron was so mad that he dropped him and slammed his hand so hard into the side of the car that he was sure he hurt something. Hotch was seething with rage at Emily being spoken about so callously even if there might be truth in the statement. After a few breaths, Hotch looked back at the man and said, “You’ve talked to her, how? And if you don’t give me a straight answer in less than one sentence I’ll make sure you get the death penalty. I’ll bring up everything you’ve ever said and done that looks sideways, so how? Did. You. Talk. To. My. Agent?”

Tim chuckled again at Aaron’s anger. He didn’t say anything for an instant, not sure if he should reveal his secrets, but then again, having the other agents talk to their friend, and hear her die would be priceless to watch, so he honestly replied, “There’s a HAM radio built into the building via the speaker. I rigged one to the table you’re agent’s cuffed to always be open. I did it in case I ever got trapped down there myself. Just a precaution, but it was fun talking to the soon-to-be dead. Like speaking to a ghost.” Hotch couldn’t even be mad as he shoved Baldwin back in the car and moved over toward the unsub’struck. He asked the first officer combing through the vehicle, “Have you seen a HAM radio set?” The woman nodded her head no and Aaron called JJ and y/n to help him search. After using a police cruiser's radio, y/n shifted through all the frequencies until she found one with no sound. She played an alarm sound and Hotch was able to find the radio in the boot of the unsub’s car under the spare tire well. Thankfully the frequency hadn’t been changed and Aaron said, “Emily, it’s Aaron, we’re right outside. Can you hear me? Emily, can you hear me?”

There was a pause that felt like an eternity before there was some coughing from the other end of the line and a small, crackly voice that was Emily’s saying, “Hotch? Is it really you?” Aaron let out the biggest sigh of relief he had in his life and he signaled to the team that he had Emily on the line. Everyone, especially y/n sprinted over. Aaron smiled and bowed his head, replying, “Yeah, it’s me. The whole team’s here. We’re gonna get you out of there.” There are excavators and bulldozers along with as many civil engineers as Gacia could find on their way. There was another very long pause before in a defeated-sounding voice, Em said, “You can’t Hotch.” Aaron looked at y/n who was clenching her fist so hard she was drawing blood. He handed the mic over to her and y/n asked, “Em, what do you mean we can’t? There’s a plan and everything. It might be close, but we think it can be done. Spencer has all the calculations and stuff now.”

There was a soft sound of defeated laughter before Emily said, “y/n, I’m so glad to hear you’re voice. I never thought I was going to get the chance again. Oh God it makes me glad that I could hear you once more.” y/n was holding back tears and she repeated Hotch’s question, “Darling, why are you talking like this, We’re getting you out of there.” Prentiss was honest this time as she said, “The unsub, he set mines, lots of them. There’re some in the concrete and some in the ground above. If you try and dig me out, if you even get an excavator on top of this place the vibrations will make the whole thing blow. Not only would I be mincemeat but anyone nearby could die or be injured too.” There was a break as the whole team absorbed the news. It was devastating. Unbelievable. As they were all trying to reckon with this knowledge, Emily continued, “y/n, I don’t want to die in a thousand pieces, and I don’t want anyone else hurt. The air is already thin in here. There isn’t going to be time for you to save me.” Spencer took the mic from y/n’s limp hands and said, “Em, it’s Spence. I’m going to lead you through some breathing techniques that will save you air. Can you just follow my breath?”

“Oh Spencer, you always were so, so, so very smart. I’m happy I got to be on the team with you. But I don’t want to do any special breathing things I want to talk to you each if I can, and then be with y/n. Please, just let me go.” Hearing this, Morgan had had enough and he moved back to Baldwin to have him tell him where all the bombs were and what kind of bombs they were. Deep down Derek knew that there wouldn’t be time to de-arm as many explosive devices as Emily implied, but he refused to admit it to himself. There had to be something he could do. But Baldwin had nothing to say. He was enjoying watching the BAU fall apart. The cherry on top of an already wonderful day for him.

Finally, the construction team, a bomb squad, the civil engineers, and anyone else Garcia could think of arrived, and as Rossi and Aaron spoke with them and described the situation y/n JJ and Spencer all heard as Emily’s breathing got more and more labored. She left some final words for the other members of the team, knowing they would fight for her till the end. After this, Em’s voice changed. It was the one she used when y/n and she was alone in bed. Not in the office of the bullpen. She asked, with difficulty, “y/n tell me what it looks like out there.” JJ and Spence exchanged glances and took a few respectful steps back. This wasn’t about them anymore.

y/n looked around and tried to see something, anything pretty around her. She stepped forward and sat on the edge of the tall grass just next to where the curing concrete was. She took a breath and said, “It’s a beautiful day. The… the sun is out and there are tiny white flowers in the tall grass. The wind…” y/n was choking up tears and sobs but managed to say, “The wind is stirring the grass and I’m right here with you, Em. Always will be.” y/n could hear crying from Emily too which only made her sobs worse. They stayed that way for a few minutes and Em said, “That’s my girl. Don’t be sorry about anything ever, y/n. I’m not. You’re the best thing to happen to me.” y/n’s body was wracked with sobs as she nodded her head into the ground and tried to vocalize, “I love you.” Her vocal cords weren’t having it and she was so overcome with grief but unable to move as she heard Emily’s breathing labor more and more until it was extinguished in a gurgling gasp and slow release of a life-ending.

The whole team looked over to y/n as she stood and left the HAM radio where it had been on the ground. They knew it was over now. They wondered what y/n would do, but seemed too afraid to move. After a second Derek thought y/n might collapse but instead she opened her mouth and screamed the loudest she’d ever screamed. y/n screamed out her head and her heart and her spirit and any other part of her that hurt so bad that she wanted to die herself. After she had screamed herself mute, y/n closed her eyes and felt light like a feather. The team watched as y/n swayed forward and backward, Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all moved forward with Morgan grabbing her before she fell to the ground. Rossi had pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1 and Hotch took off his jacket so he could cover y/n with it and keep her warm as she seemed to go into shock. Aaron’s heart was breaking, everyone’s was, but he would keep it together, for now, he vowed to not lose another agent. Not today.

It was two days later that y/n woke. She’d gone into shock the the hospital was worried about her waking up fully distressed or panicked. Having the option of time taken away would help her not have to think about all the current events. y/n was still pretty heavily sedated as she came too in her hospital bed. Rossi and Morgan were sitting at her bedside as the doctor recommended she not be alone when she woke. y/n lulled her head to the side and asked in a tired voice, “Where am I? What day is it?” Rossi sat forward and said, “You’re in the hospital, y/n. You’ve been here for two days.” y/n squinted her eyes and asked, “Why? Did something bad happen to me?” Rossi looked over at Morgan who sat up and replied, “Yeah, something bad kind of happened to all of us, but you took it really hard. That’s why you’re in the hospital.” Even more confused, y/n asked, “What happened?” Rossi gave y/n’s arm a pat and replied, “We’ll tell you later. For now, why don’t you get some rest.” y/n weekly nodded and before her head was even back on the pillow, she was asleep again.

It took a full two weeks before y/n could be safely dismissed and the doctors and psychologists didn’t fear that y/n would do something to possibly harm herself. Early on, when she had been told the news again, and the grief was fresh and new like a new cut, y/n had asked Aaron, who was sitting at her bedside, “Have they gotten Em’s body yet?” Hotch looked up from the book he was reading and set it aside before saying, “No. We called Emily’s mother and she flew down from Istanbul where she’s currently working. I described everything that Emily said to her and she heard the whole explosive situation. Mrs. Prentiss decided that it would be most respectful to honor Emily’s last wish and let her stay where she is. The bomb squad did figure out that if only one of the bombs were to go off it would likely blow up the whole structure and everything inside.” Aaron looked at y/n carefully to see how she had taken the news.

It was clearly a blow to not be able to see the one you loved again, ever. But in some small way, he hoped there would be some comfort in knowing that Emily would stay as she was the last time they’d seen each other. The last Aaron had seen the two of them together they’d been sitting close in the hotel lobby. Legs touching they whispering and laughing between themselves. The memory hurt and made Hotch glad they had had each other. y/n didn’t end up responding much, just said, “Oh,” and closed her eyes again.

A month later there was a funeral honoring Emily’s long service to the BAU and to her country. She was put to rest and it felt like the earth had been split in two with such a great loss to all who knew her. The service was formal and as the Priest gave the eulogy, y/n almost wanted to believe in God for Emily’s sake and for her own. After the metaphorical casket was buried, there was a small remembrance gathering at Rossi’s.

y/n was standing on the far side of the room when a voice called her name. Pulling out of her daze, y/n saw Mrs. Prentiss and she stood straighter saying, “Ma’am, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Mrs. Prentiss nodded and said, “I should say that I’m sorry for your loss as well. I hear Emily was very fond of you.” Tears pricked at y/n’s eyes and she wiped them away. y/n supposed that was the closest Mrs. Prentiss would come to saying, ‘So, you were my daughter’s girlfriend.’ y/n spoke with honesty and replied, “I miss her so much that it’s hard to breathe sometimes.”

Elizabeth Prentiss nodded in understanding and said, “I was never very close with my daughter though she was brilliant, but I wish I had known her better when she was with you, I bet she just shone brighter than anything.” y/n smiled and said, “Yes, she did. Always.” Elizabeth nodded and said, “I’ve gone through all of Emily’s things and sent out the appropriate things to the right people. A box should be coming for you tomorrow. However, in the kitchen, I found this old bottle of wine. I’m not much of a drinker myself and besides, it should be enjoyed like she’d have wanted to have it, with you young folks. So I thought I’d give it to you.” y/n took the bottle and nodded. Clearly, Mrs. Prentiss was not huge on emotions, but at least there was this.

y/n found herself flying and driving to New Orleans much more often now. Any chance she could get as long as she could spend two nights there? She’d always go to Emily’s “grave and bring flowers.” The first time she saw that graffiti had been painted over the now-dried concrete she got so mad she called Derek and he let her let out every cuss word she knew until there was nothing more to complain about. y/n had washed it off an hour later. However, as the months elapsed, she started to see the chore of washing off any vandalism as a small way of keeping Emily alive. Like she was cleaning Em’s front entryway. It didn’t make any sense, but it kept y/n going. It kept her sane.

On what would have been their three-year anniversary together, y/n considered flying down and drinking the bottle of wine from Prentiss’s apartment at her grave, but Mrs. Prentiss had been right. That’s not what Emily would have wanted. Instead, she invited the team over and everyone brought something that reminded them of Em, and they shared the wine and told stories from the past and remembered. They kept her alive in their hearts. As Garcia started what appeared to be a very funny story and y/n sipped from her glass, she thought, ‘You’ll be alive with me for as long as I live Emily, I promise.’

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