#morgan is looking her over for bruises and NOTHING else OF COURSE

[sermna]

post-mission inspection ✨

[luveline]

I read the Derek and Spencer fainting bit and now I want to complete it with Hotch :)))

If that’s alright of course…

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Aaron knows you harbour more affection for him than anyone else on the team, which is a true compliment to him, as you adore Spencer. He can never tell if you're friendly or loving, if you want some or all or nothing, the line between you blurred. 

When Morgan and Garcia first began their flirtatious friendship, Aaron thought they were seeing each other on the sly for a whole fortnight. He's a profiler, but he doesn't know everything. 

He does, however, know that something is wrong with you today. Hand held up over your eyes, you squint out over the crime scene with a wrinkled nose. The lakeside smells as bad as it looks with gore blackening the surrounding grass. He's been telling you for months to get some shades. You've been ignoring his advice. 

Your disapproval of the smell is normal. Your unsure footing is not. You take his forearm when he offers it and step across the muddy bank to the body without audible complaint, though you give him a 'this fucking sucks' narrowing of the eyes when he gives you the time. 

"Agent Hotchner," a deputy greets, "Agent L/N. We found the second body here. Bystanders pulled the first out thinking she was still alive, but that was unfortunately not the case." 

You shift unprofessionally close to Aaron. He doesn't really care. The sheriff barely looks at you both, his attention on the corpse hidden between overgrown cattails. 

Aaron hates to admit that he gives you more of his attention than is helpful. You seem odd. Call it intuition, call it plain old profiling, Aaron reads the next minute of events in the smallest twitch of your finger.

You put your hand on his back and he doesn't think, he just grabs you. The sheriff deputy startles as you fold over Aaron's arm like a marionette with strings sliced, exhaling hard as your body does its best to hit the grass beneath your feet. 

"Agent L/N!" The deputy yelps. 

"I got her," Aaron says, easing you down to the ground. He keeps a hand behind your head to lay you down flat, the other quick to leap from your side to your cheek. You'll likely have bruises in the shape of his hands at your waist. "Y/N?" 

He rubs his thumb under your eye. Quick, he leans down with an ear to your lips and relaxes at the sound of your shallow breathing. He pulls away, resting a hand atop your chest. 

"Can you hear me?" he asks, conscious of and ignoring the copious pairs of eyes watching over you. 

You don't respond. Aaron goes into emergency mode, flagging down a cop who races for a paramedic, hands at your throat unbuttoning the first button on your blouse, the second in an overabundance of caution. 

"Y/N, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that?" His tone wavers somewhere between demanding and desperate. "Come on. Come on." 

Fainting is one thing. Fainting with no signs of dehydration and little sun exposure is another, especially considering you hadn't moved from one position to another. You've passed out with no obvious cause. Any number of things could be wrong. 

He doesn't slap you —it works in the movies and not often elsewhere. In fact, Aaron finds himself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Patient outwardly and insanely panicked on the inside, he holds your face in his hand and waits for someone to tell him you're alright. 

Your breath catches, your head lolling into his palm. He straightens it, weary of your airways. "Y/N? Tell me you can hear me." 

The whirlwind of your fall and the eternity of your recovery has him holding his breath. 

"I can hear you," you mumble, again attempting to turn your head. He lets you this time. He's so relieved, he'd let you do anything. 

He fights the urge to shout, Where's the medic? instead following your face, tilting his head to the side. "Open your eyes, honey," he murmurs, for your ears alone. 

Your lashes twitch against his pinky index finger. You frown as though you're in pain and finally rouse to attention. 

"What hurts?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"Nothing hurts…" Your frown worsens. "You look really unhappy." 

"I'm not ecstatic about this," he says. He gives in, shouting, "Where's the medic?"

"Oh, no, please," you say, trying to sit up, "that is so embarrassing."

Aaron pushes you flat to the grass beneath you. "Stop, you need to stay flat. You passed out. This is the solution–" He puts his hand flat over your chest as you put in some effort. "Hey, this is what you need to do. Listen to me, agent." 

"What happened to honey?" you ask quietly. 

"That's when you were doing what I wanted." 

You close your eyes in a faux strop. "I guess I'll have to do what you want more often, sir." 

"That's enough." He sounds fond. Why does he sound so fond? 

The deputy clears his throat. "Paramedics are here." 

You groan. Aaron hides a smile. Through everything, his hand has stayed on your cheek. He doesn't pull it away until he absolutely has to, and even then, he holds some part of you. Your elbow, your wrist. He has the sense to be sheepish about it when the paramedic ushers him back, but even then, he's thinking about when he'll get to touch you next; he needs the assurance that you're okay. 

He gets it a half hour later when you're sipping on a gatorade in the back of an SUV. 

"Do I still get paid for today?" you ask, smiling playfully. "Or is this a write off?" 

He wants to joke about it with you, but there's work to be done. He sends you back to the hotel with a frankly unprofessional hug and a demand to take it easy. He's sure you'll be back stepping on his heels by late afternoon. 

[nescaveckwriter]

Bundled, Broken, Maybe Healed? (Part 1)

Prompt: Bundled up in blankets - will be in bold,😱

A/N: YAY! My third one for @badthingshappenbingo 🤭, Okay y'all, this chapter is intense, I'm not kidding.. we find more out about Meredith's past and its traumatic okay... So good luck...😱💓❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, blood and gore, normal Criminal Minds stuff, going into depth off crime scenes etc, drug use,torture, anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentiss, Meredith Lang.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:3000ish 😅

Chapter Name: Bundled, Broken, Maybe Healed? (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Hotch sat there, the emotion caught in his throat, glancing at the document in front of him, then over to her sitting at her desk, rereading the file from top to bottom again. Of course it was filled with the basic information, height, etc, but what rattled him, is what she went through, her story started when she was sixteen, at the mall with her best friend Hope Jefferson, they got abducted.  He skimmed the pages once again, clenching and unclenching his fist. As he read over the lines when she was found or rather rescued, Jason Gideon and Aaron Hothcner found Meredith Lang (17) bundled up in blankets in a cage. Dehydrated, beaten, bruised, curled up little girl, only skin and bone, her abductor withheld food from her, she was malnourished for sure, she was strung out on a mixture of drugs. 

How did he not recognize her? How is it possible that he saved her 13 years ago, and he didn’t know it. Does she recognize him? How could she, she was high out of her mind when they found her. He glanced at the pictures of the fragile, broken little girl, and today she’s a strong sassy woman. He read the file further on from the psychiatrist Olivia Walters , once BAU saved her she, went to a psychiatric hospital, to get clean, and to work through her trauma, for a couple of months she didn’t really talk, didn’t really open up, she couldn’t grasped that she was saved, that she was, free, I’ve noticed that when she gets stressed that she’ll pick at her fingernails, and when her parents came to visit, she’ll smile and act she’s fine, that what she went through is nothing, I’ll try my best for her to open up, but nothing worked. 

But today, I made a breakthrough, later I learned it was Hope’s birthday, she sat there looking at me with those intense green eyes, filled with determination, she spoke ‘I’m not broken you know, he could never break me, he broke the others, he even broke Hope, she didn’t deserve it’ after I asked what does she mean she started, she told me ‘The day we got taken by him ‘The Collector’ he called himself, I made a promise, to myself, to Hope to my parents, I will not break, I will hold on, and I will get out of this’ she didn’t cry, she clearly distanced herself from her own emotions, as if she was telling me a story, from a book. ‘He threw us that night in a cage, making sick, vulgar jokes, he’d tell us that after he would break us in, so that we could be the perfect little dolls, that he’d sell us off to the highest bidder, and after he’d got his money, he’d take the girl back, and collect the hyoid bone in their throats so that we can’t scream and can’t swallow, we’ll need him for everything, you’ll be his little puppet, to have forever.’ I sat there listening to her telling me about this man, what he did, what he said, and I thought about my own kids, I was terrified, she didn’t shed one tear ‘So as the days went on he’ll take one for one, and some will do as he says, eating, or drinking water like a caged dog on a chain, obeying every word, and other was too afraid to do anything, he’ll beat, kick, smash their face in, leave them there, some didn’t make it, so the rest of the other girls who was there longer than me and Hope obeyed every rule, as for me and my best friend we clung to each other , like our lives depended on it, a few days passed and it was our turn, he dragged me out of the cage, and of course I was kicking and screaming, Hope was shouting ‘NO’, I remember looking at her terrified face, thinking, I hope he spares her from whatever his about to do to me,  and I… uhm… well I looked at him taking in his face, every detail of this burly man. So he dragged me to this chair looked like dentist chair, you know, there were this big lights, I remember scratching him, he was so angry, I could feel his skin under my nails, he punched me through the face and I remember being so sore, so unexpected, type of pain I never felt it before, so he picked me, strapped me in the chair, and took some kind of needle filled with...

[abstracthappiness]

microfiction, November 27 - December 3

Mother always knew when bad luck was coming, but the warnings were always odd. Like the time a frog hopped onto the table at teatime. It coughed up a ring, which she recognized with a frown, and a sharp tooth from a dog or wolf— She told my sister and I to pack our bags.

-

I opened my eyes to daylight, having passed out under a bush. My blind date had been talking all sorts of crazy—and he put something in my drink. I was so out of it, I pulled a Cinderella as I ran out. Somewhere back there, there was one shoe on the step.

-

The kraken will come, said the scarecrow. “But we’re completely landlocked,” the witch protested. The kraken will come, said the crows. Prepare yourself, whispered something in the corn. The storms started that day, and the waters rose—and she watched the tentacles emerge—

-

The house locked us out. As the light faded, we tried to prepare: Lisa always carried candles, and we had a handful of matches, thanks to Ben’s smoking habit. But the wind came up, the candles guttered out, the darkness rushed in—and oh, it was sharp like teeth—

-

In the morning, solitude was all Morgan craved, after listening to her sister go on all night. The fact that Elise was dead never stopped her chatter. Around dawn, Morgan dozed, and Elise faded with a sad smile. “Don’t pout,” Morgan shushed, “I’ll see you tonight.”

-

“You claim to be nothing but a monster—but you’re more than that to me. You’re the storm-tossed girl I found on a riverbank. You’re the warrior who spared me even after I aimed an arrow at your heart. You’re the lady who didn’t let the Faerie Hill devour me.”

-

Sen told her: “We need to get your guardian angel’s attention.” So Jules found the tallest building in the area—and took a leap of faith. Halfway down there was light and feathers and a voice that made their eardrums bleed: ʀɛƈӄʟɛֆֆ ʍօʀȶǟʟ, աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ʊք ȶօ ռօա?

-

There’s a dead swan on the front porch. Blood on white feathers. It’s a warning. It’s a promise. “It’s a figment of your imagination,” her sister whispers. “You would know,” Malorie snaps back, “You’ve been dead two years.” Her sister vanishes. The swan does not.

-

The General scowled, fed up with her riddles. “Was that your plan, Lorelei? To conjure up your monsters, to lure me to your wild woods and slay me there?” She rolled her eyes. “Such ego, General. Why do you assume any of this had anything to do with you?”

-

Rev sat down beside Jess as she waited for the bus. He held out an apple, crisp and red and freshly plucked; incongruous with the frigid winter day. “A little on the nose, no?” she quipped. He smiled, flashing sharp teeth. They both pretended he wasn’t a devil, that he wasn’t constantly trying to tempt her. “One day you’ll trust me, Jessika,” he said in parting. Once he was out of sight, she bit into the apple. It was rotten inside, of course.

-

A thick rime of ice covers the entire room, including the queen. Her clock-work heart still ticks, faintly, under cold synthetic skin. —Was she frozen by her own hand, or someone else’s? —We’re not paid to ask questions, Jax. Let’s wake the old girl up.

-

“Mummy, listen to this,” Sammy said, and proceeded to tell a story that made her hair turn white. “Where on earth did you hear that?” she demanded. “From the boy beneath my bed,” Sam explained. “He tells the best stories! He whispers them to me through the floorboards.”

-

I found out Hadley’s mother was Jewish (and deceased) the night he got into a fistfight. Not that he was a fighter; his face hit the concrete pretty quick and I started screaming. This punk couple passing by saved his ass. One girl had a safety pin through her lip; she hailed a taxi for us while her girlfriend knocked the skinhead out cold. In the emergency room, Hadley got seventeen stitches, with a palette of bruises all over his face and ribs.

-

<You were drowning. We brought you here and operated—now you have gills and fins and can speak telepathically—please calm down, I’m sorry we did this without your consent, but—> <No, no—I have to go, I have to rescue my sister—she’s being held captive by pirates!>

-

“Have you read Doctor Flamel’s latest paper?” “The Rumpelstiltskin Theory? Preposterous. You can’t just turn whatever you like into gold—” “Her lab looks like King Midas took a stroll through it.” “She’s a fool, then. The Emperor will make her disappear.”

-

The sun went down, and Bren did not return to the standing stones. Lyra huddled by the fire, hungry and lonely and on edge. The night kindled atavistic fear deep in her bones; every sound beyond the fire’s light was a monster come to devour her. She prayed for dawn to come quickly. Before Bren left, he’d tried to be kind to her, even though he thought her half-mad. He’d told her, patiently: “Calm yourself. The fire will keep away the ghosts.”

-

Two palace guards stood at her door. “The queen awaits, at your leisure.” Nora dusted off her hands. “What does Her Majesty want with a spinster from Lowtown?” The Captain answered, “She’s looking for a hero, madam.” “Or a witch,” his companion added.

-

She plummeted, caught in the golden drift between planets. Navi caught up to her, his body stretched into a perfect dive. His pupils were shrunk to pinpricks by the light, ice crystals forming in his hair. “Stay between the beams,” he yelled, “or you’ll be erased.”

//

read more on: TWITTER | read more on: MASTODON twitter prompts: vss365 / FromOneLine / vssHauntedHouse / whistpr / vssMagic / 2WordPrompt / SciFiFri / SciFanSat / vssDaily / WeirdMicro mastodon prompts: MastoPrompt / MicroPrompt / Promptodon

[casspurrjoybell-28]

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 18a

*Warning Adult Content*

Found Out - Part 1 - Kao

I have never had to hide wounds before.

No one in the Blood Pack would care if they saw an Omega beat up and bruised.

That was the norm, anyway.

I don't know how I feel about it now.

It's the next day and I was able to make it home without anyone seeing me.

I quickly made a salve out of some cinnamon, oil and water to create a substance to cover up the bruise on my face before Morgan and Oliver came back from school.

But hiding the obvious limp when I walk will be a challenge.

My ankle is badly sprained and there are numerous bruises all over my body that make it hard to find clothes I can wear without showing them.

I'm so on edge, constantly checking my surroundings to see if those horrible Alphas are around.

I don't feel safe at all.

At the same time, I don't want to tell anyone.

People fussing over me or wanting to treat my injuries will make me feel awkward and overwhelmed.

I'm used to dressing my own wounds and taking care of myself.

It's hard to let others into that sphere after being alone in it for so long.

I know I'm being extremely stubborn.

But at the same time, I feel trapped in the bubble of independence I've made for myself.

And... that's okay for me right now.

I don't need help. I'm fine.

The weekend passes and I don't leave the room.

My wolf whines, not liking having to stay inside and of course, wanting to see our mate.

Oliver worries about me but I tell him I am just tired.

When the next week comes around, I'm dreading it.

It means Cyrus will be expecting me at training and with my ankle, it'll be impossible.

In general, us wolves heal at a fast pace but Omegas heal slowest, unfortunately.

It sucks a ton.

When I spot Xavier talking with Morgan that morning at the schoolhouse after dropping Oliver off, I have an idea.

I ask if he can tell Cyrus that I'm not feeling well so I won't be at training.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a bit under the weather," I force a smile. Morgan doesn't look convinced but Xavier says he'll let Cyrus know.

I quickly leave before the blond can pester me any more about it.

I do what I do best, instead.

I shut myself in and everyone else out.

When I get back to the room, I wipe the sticky mixture covering up my bruised face in relief, that shit feels so cakey.

Tired from the agonizing pulse in my leg, I get back into bed.

It feels like I've just drifted off to sleep when I hear a knock on the door.

I startle awake, rubbing at my eyes.

It must be the neighbor again.

Yesterday she kept coming over to ask if we had any spare cloth because she needed more for the quilt she was making.

Apparently my numerous 'no' hadn't deterred her.

I drowsily slump out of bed, stumbling over to the door and opening it.

Except I'm not met with the short little lady but rather, the huge stature of a man that I have to crane my neck up just to see his face.

When my eyes meet his own icy blues, I realize my mistake.

I slap a hand over the purpling bruise, attempting to retreat back into the room but it is far too late.

His face has darkened to an expression I've never seen before... one of pure rage.

He forces himself into the room, easily disregarding my piteous attempt to close the door.

It slams loudly behind him and I flinch.

"Who did this?" he growls, eyes aflame but I just shake my head, keeping my face covered.

"Koa, who dared to hurt you like this?" his tone is full of fury, each word dripping with the intensity of it.

The veins in his neck are taught, his arms tense and rip with the muscles within them.

"I... I am fine. It was an accident," I stutter out, wringing my hands together in nervousness.

Shit. This is not good.

I didn't anticipate him reacting like this at all, either.

It's strange that someone is so upset over something like this.

The Alphas in my life before him never cared even a little bit.

"You are not fine. You favor one leg, meaning the other is damaged. Your face has clearly been mottled by the bastard's hands," his fists clench as he assesses me.

"And who knows where else you are wounded."

"There's nothing more," I deny, but that only angers him further.

"You will show me."

"Cyrus..."

"Now," he shouts, eyes flashing to his wolf and in response my own immediately cowers, my omega whimpering in submission and exposing his belly.

I know this sensation all too well.

An Alphas command.

One that they use to force Omegas to obey, something that was used on me many times.

And it is impossible to resist.

My trembling hands go to the hem of my shirt, pulling up the fabric to reveal the large patch of inflamed skin sprawling across my rib cage to my stomach and all the way down to my lower abdomen.

Rex's foot must've been God-damn giant.

I hadn't gotten a good look at it until now.

And I hate Cyrus right now for making me do this.

He did what all the others did.

Used his dominance to make me bow down to his order.

Then I glance back up to see how Cyrus is taking it I wish I hadn't.

His pupils have shrunk, eyes completely glowing now with animalistic wrath.

Oh, fuck.

"I will kill them."

"Don't be like this, Cyrus," I plead.

"I don't need you to get revenge for me or protect me. I can look out for myself." 

"You call this looking out for yourself?" he motions to my less-than-ideal state.

"How could you not come to me the second this happened? I am your Alpha. I am made to protect you."

"You are not 'my' Alpha," I shout back.

His brows crinkle in anger, a snarl marring his usually calm face.

"You are impossible. Is there no limit to ways in which you will trouble me?"

"And I'm telling you to leave it the fuck alone."

"I will not," he roars.

"You are my responsibility. If someone hurts you, then I must take action."

I let out a dry laugh.

"So you're going to force me to tell like the weak Omega I am? Use your wolf on me again?"

"It is for your own good that I do these things," he seethes but I can tell he is bothered by what I suggest.

That I am possibly comparing to others that have done the same to me.

"Asshole. You think this is anything worse than what I've dealt with before? This is nothing. Just drop it." 

After that, Cyrus goes silent.

So silent it scares me.

But then he simply walks to the door.

He opens it and only then turns back to me.

"Make no mistake... I will find them. And for every mark that paints your skin, they lose a finger. And then their life."

*

I find myself being dragged to the Pack infirmary by Xavier later in the day, the snitch that caused all this.

Well, to be fair I was the one to tell him to let Cyrus know I wouldn't be coming to training.

How was I supposed to know that would make the guy trek up to my room and cause a scene?

So now, courtesy of Cyrus's orders, I'm off to get my injuries treated.

Honestly, now that it's all been revealed to the main person I wanted to hide it from, I don't another resisting.

The shit those Alphas inflicted on me does hurt like a bitch and it'll be nice to have some relief from the pain. 

The infirmary is a smaller building a block away from the pack house, with mostly warriors coming to and fro the main double doors.

The ones entering sport bloody gashes and the ones leaving sport bandages and crutches. 

"How do so many get injured like this?" I ask Xavier as we approach the entrance.

A man with a bandaged head limps past us, obviously needing to come back as soon as possible. 

"Mostly territory disputes. Or on missions for resources. Many packs or bands of rogues choose to attack because they want what we have. Cyrus has been handling it well, though. Always nipping the assaults in the bud. Has also stationed tons more guards since he became Alpha."

"Is there no way to appease these other groups? Like, make them stop attacking?" I ask in wonder.

I had no idea all this was going on. We're kept so safe here in the heart of the Pack's land that I'd been ignorant of the violence going on outside.

Xavier shrugs.

"We have tried to make alliances. Some Packs agreed. Others refused our efforts to make peace. They resort to violence because they don't know how to properly manage their people. They desire to take from us in some way or another. We've tried to provide aid in the past but we also have to take care of our own. With a growing population of omegas and children, it's important to focus our energy here."

I nod, processing all of the information.

I try to push down the guilt of treating Cyrus how I have been, when he's been doing so much for me and the others that live here. 

"Don't be worried, though. You should've seen this place before Cyrus took power. There often wasn't enough room for all the patients. His father just didn't have the knack he does for running the pack." 

I take note of how much Xavier looks up to Cyrus.

It's sweet.

And shows that... well, Cyrus is a good guy.

But for some reason, I can't stop sabotaging our relationship, if you can even call our strained communications that.

At the same time, I also can't seem to distance myself from him like I originally planned.

I find myself drawn back every time, whether its asking him to train me or lingering around the school house in the morning to see if he'll be with Xavier when the Alpha stops by for tea with Morgan. 

And buried deep down below the frustration I feel toward him for forcing me to show him my wounds and for getting angry like he did, there's the stuttering of my heart when I think about the fact that he reacted like that to me being hurt.

The fact that to him, my safety matters that much.

I feel the give of the barriers I have built up around myself and I realize I am scared.

So scared because this feeling has been buried for so long.

The feeling that I have had only once before with my first love, Des.

But even now, it's different. 

With Cyrus, it's different... so much more than I can comprehend and I don't think I'm prepared to face the weight of that in the slightest. 

[leilersworld]

can we as a fan base take a few minutes to deeply appreciate how complex and beautiful the characters on Criminal Minds are.

Spencer Reid is so much more than a kind genius who’s the youngest on the team, he’s an anxiety ridden young man who’s trying his best to convince not only himself but his “superiors” and the people around him that he’s good enough. and all at the same time he’s trying to heal his inner child that broke when he was left to take care of his mother without a father and graduate highschool at 12 years old. He’s also a man who went through a drug addiction all because someone else decided to inflict pain on him. He seemingly loses everyone that’s important to him and his brain reacts by shutting down and not allowing him to love as much as he could before.

Jennifer Jareau is so much more than a blonde women who has kids and is sensitive to situations with kids. She’s a women who has gone through a miscarriage and has been confused on who’s she’s supposed to love and who she’s not supposed to love her entire life. she lost her best friend at eleven years old and had to find her laying in a pool of blood, which left her damaged and made her feel the need to protect everyone around her all the time. she feels like she has no control and when it comes to kids and her teammates she’s even more vulnerable to that thought.

Aaron Hotchner is so much more than a hard headed boss who always follows protocol and never cracks a smile. He’s a man who fell in love and then felt like he got too reckless and ending up losing that love. He’s also a father, a single father for a long time might i add. He feels the need to be harsh and blunt with the team because he’s scared if he lets his guard down, someone he loves and cares about will die again. He was abused as a child and everyone has seemed to glaze over it like it was nothing, and like it hasn’t impacted who he is today. He’s trying his best for everyone, not only his family, but his chosen family (the team) as well.

Penelope Garcia is so much more than the bright and cheery tech analyst at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. She first hand sees all the bad in the world through her job, so she uses stuffed animals and bright colors to remind her that life can still be good. She first hand sees the way her teammates morals are lost in the field, and what horrible things can happen to her family. So she try’s to make them smile and laugh as much as she can because she can’t help but feel like it might be her fault they’re not smiling in the first place. She of course feels this way because her own parents died in a car accident when they were out looking for her when she hadn’t come home in time for curfew. And the one time she gave someone a chance, he ended up shooting her. She’s trying her best to not let the walls around her collapse entirely.

Derek Morgan is so much more than a buff man who gets a lot of women and is cocky. Deep down he’s a boy who was manipulated and abused into thinking he wasn’t good enough. He lost the only person he ever looked up too as a boy (his father) and Carl decided to use his vulnerability as a way to convince him he was “saving him” by molesting him constantly. He then pulled himself out of his bad situation and covered all of his past bruises with the concealer that is being a buff man who gets a lot of girls and has a lot of game. Not only this, but he grew up in a family full of women. And he feels as if he needs to protect them because if he doesn’t, no one will.

Emily Prentiss is so much more than a women who is good at her job and cracks some jokes from time to time. She was a young girl who got pregnant and was shamed for getting an abortion by a church she was supposed to feel loved in. And then just as she thought her bruised past was simply put behind her, the man who had a bounty over her head escaped from prison. This then forced her to fake her own death and flee to London where she couldn’t keep in touch with her chosen family (the team) and was blamed for it when she came back to Virginia. All she ever wanted was for her mother to love her and appreciate the work that she did, but it’s seemingly very hard to impress a Diplomat.

David Rossi is so much more than and Italian Man who loves to cook and has had a few wives. He served in the Vietnam war and has a tough surface that he doesn’t allow people to break through, in fear of feeling too weak. He’s also a man who’s lost many things, one being his son who died soon after child birth, and another being a women he fell in love with. (Strauss) because of a serial killer. He compartmentalizes with the immense amount of loss and pain with tribal things like wine and being a cubs fan. Deep down he cares way more then he makes it seem, and makes it care to seem.

Overall, they’re so much more than a TV show and i think we as the audience tend to forget that.

[leiawritesstories]

Moving Day

For the absolutely amazing @morganofthewildfire --HAPPY BIRTHDAY MORGAN!!! ❤️❤️❤️ 

Warnings: language, innuendo, lots of fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Enjoy!

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

“ROWAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” Aelin’s holler echoed down the hall of their house. Their brand-new house. Which they were literally moving into right now. “Get your cranky ass down here!”

Rowan dumped the three boxes in his arms onto the kitchen counter and headed down the hall to the master bedroom to see his fiancée. “Yes, Fireheart?”

“I’m...I’m stuck,” she pleaded from somewhere in the room. 

He looked around, searching for anywhere Aelin could have gotten herself entangled in the space. There wasn’t much in the mostly-empty room, just the pieces of their bed propped against the far wall, some boxes, and...the closet.

Rowan walked into the closet, half-expecting to see Aelin having accidentally tangled herself in her clothing, stepped over a ladder that was lying flat on the floor, and found the space empty. What? Empty?

“Up here, buzzard.”

Rowan jumped. “What the fuck--” He looked upwards. 

Sure enough, there was Aelin, standing in the attic, the panel in the ceiling slid aside. And the ladder she’d used to get up there was currently on the floor.

“How the hell did that happen?” he wondered aloud, picking up the ladder. “Might someone have forgotten to secure it in place?” He could barely keep the laugh out of his voice. 

She pouted. “Shut up, Ro, I know it was stupid not to check that it was secured, but I’m just so fucking excited!” She turned the full, staggering force of her elated grin on him. 

Rowan chuckled a little ruefully. “I can’t deny that, Fireheart.” He held the ladder in place as she climbed down, unable to resist skimming his eyes over the inviting curve of her ass in her denim shorts. 

Aelin swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Time for that later, buzzard. We’ve got a house to move into now.” 

“And we’re currently alone, in our new bedroom, with everyone else occupied elsewhere,” he purred, stepping right up next to her. 

Her breath caught, heaving out in a shuddery sigh, and she closed her eyes, ghosting a soft kiss over his lips.

And then she slid away and headed down the hall. “Later, buzzard!” she called, laughing over her shoulder.

Rowan grumbled a string of choice words, staying another few minutes in the closet to try and rein in his raging need for Aelin. He returned to the flurry of moving shortly later, little Whitethorn under control, and spent most of the rest of the day hauling boxes, furniture, and other shit around his and Aelin’s new house, internally and sometimes externally cursing why in the hell moving was this fucking complicated.

~

As night fell over their new neighborhood, Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway of their house and waved their thanks to the movers and their friends, all the people who’d helped them make the move in just one day, rather than their original plan of not hiring a U-Haul and instead just making a bunch of trips in Rowan’s pickup from their apartment to their house.

Lorcan and Elide had heard of that plan and immediately taken Aelin’s moving planning rights away, calling for a U-Haul and organizing the whole move-in. Under her expert eye, the move had gone efficiently and smoothly enough, if one ignored the handful of dropped boxes and Rowan and Lorcan utterly failing to put together an IKEA bookshelf and table.

Rowan insisted he didn’t need to read the instructions and Lorcan, of course, agreed, so they went right for the pieces and ended up completely and totally lost and unable to make sense of the pieces after several hours of trying, with nothing but Lorcan’s bruised thumb--he’d banged the mallet straight into his thumb instead of the furniture--to show for it. 

Elide and Aelin stifled their mirth and consoled their men and then helped them construct the furniture, this time with the instruction pamphlet to guide them.

Rowan wrapped his arms around Aelin’s waist, propping his chin on her head. “Well, Fireheart, we’re home.”

“That we are,” she grinned, leaning into his chest, lacing her fingers with his. Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Ah, you and your appetite, my love.”

“You’ve never had any complaints about my appetite, Ro,” she hummed, tossing him a wicked wink. 

He swallowed harshly. “Indeed not,” he practically growled. And then he grinned widely. “Let's make you some food, then, love.”

“That’s the best goddamn idea I’ve heard all day!” Aelin exclaimed, all but yanking him inside and into the kitchen. “How much edible food do we have?”

“I don’t think anything has cooked itself since we got here, Ae, so we’ll have to cook something,” Rowan drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just make ramen or soup or something quick, because I am fucking hungry.”

He snickered, grabbing a couple of packets of noodles and two bowls. “Chicken or chicken, Fireheart?”

“I’ll take the spicy one,” she hummed, filling up a Pyrex with water and putting it in the microwave, setting the timer for five minutes. She grabbed her packet of ramen and ripped it open, dumping the dry noodles into her bowl. Looking up, she saw that Rowan hadn’t moved, his gaze sparking with dark desire.

“Is that how you like it, love? Spicy?” His voice a growl.

“You know it is,” she smirked, all too eager to let him crowd her back against the counter. He surged forward, kissing her fiercely, his packet of ramen abandoned on the countertop. 

Just as he trailed biting kisses across her collarbones, the microwave beeped.

Obnoxiously.

They pulled apart, flushed, laughing. “I suppose it’s trying to tell us something, buzzard,” Aelin chuckled. 

“Damned loud microwave,” Rowan grumbled, ripping his ramen packet open with more force than strictly necessary.

~

Satisfactorily fed, Aelin plopped both their bowls in the kitchen sink, deciding evilly to start washing them and see how long it took for Rowan to haul her away to...break in their new bedroom. 

It was barely two minutes before Rowan’s warm, familiar presence loomed behind her, his tattooed arm winding around her waist. Perhaps she arched her back a little more than necessary as she stood in front of the sink, knowing full well her jeans shorts made her ass look incredible. “The dishes can wait, Fireheart,” he purred, his breath fanning hot against her ear. 

Aelin pressed herself backwards into him, humming at the strangled moan he let out when her ass ground against his hardness. “But I’m nearly done,” she pouted breathily.

Rowan shut off the water and tossed her over his shoulder, his ridiculously and unfairly muscled arms banding her in place. Aelin laughed, not even pretending to struggle as he carried her swiftly down the hallway, shifting her into his arms bridal style before entering their bedroom. 

The only thing actually assembled was their bed; everything else lay in opened and unopened boxes about the space. He nudged the door closed and strode over to the bed, laying her down and crawling up atop her, his weight half-pressing her into the mattress. She tangled her fingers into his messy hair, grinning up at him in the soft moonlight. “Hi, my love.”

“Hi, my love,” he returned, one hand cupping the side of her face. “What do you say we give this room a proper welcome, hmm?”

~

Aelin awoke the next morning to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, Rowan’s warm body cocooned around hers. She mumbled something unintelligible, rolling over to tuck her face into the crook of his neck. She felt him shift, his big hand sliding up and down her spine, felt him smile against her head when he realized she was shading herself from the morning light. 

“Too bright, Fireheart?” he mumbled, his voice a sleepy, sexy rasp.

“Mmmmmm, s-sunny,” she groaned, burrowing against him. 

He grinned, kissing her mussed hair. “It is summer, love.”

She grumbled something about his lack of humor and snuggled into his side, blinking up at him. They laid there for a while, silent, coming into wakefulness and just looking at each other, content in their new bed in their new house. 

“G’morning, Rowan,” Aelin murmured eventually, not breaking their eye contact.

“Morning, Aelin,” Rowan whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. “Welcome home.”

A soft smile, one only he ever saw, danced across her face. “I can’t wait to wake up like this every morning.”

They stayed in bed until the sun rose high, dozing and waking in each other’s arms, both happy beyond words to have their life, their new home, the promise of the future. Together.

~~~

[honeypiehotchner]

you’re still a traitor (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

This is all angst because my brain wanted to write something based off “traitor” by Olivia Rodrigo 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of excessive drinking as a coping mechanism, no happy ending (and no there won’t be a part 2 soz)

Hotch Masterlist || Main Masterlist

brown guilty eyes and little white lies i played dumb but i always knew

Your relationship with Hotch wasn’t even a real relationship. Not in hindsight, at least. At the heart of it, though, as it was happening, it felt real. It felt more real than anything you had ever experienced.

Nothing was glorified, over-exaggerated, or unnecessary. You’ve always been a straight-to-the-point person, and so has he, so it struck neither of you by surprise when you began spending nights together on cases.

The tension between the two of you had always been high from the day you started at the BAU. He blames it on the skirt you wore to the interview. You blame it on the way he looked you up and down every chance he got.

No wonder he didn’t look surprised to find you on the other side of his hotel room door.

That first night you had said something stupid, something about the girls being lame and going to bed early. But the truth was that they were raiding the minibar, and as much as you wanted to join them, you wanted to see Hotch more.

You knew he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t hard to conclude, not with his recent divorce, late hours, entire pots of coffee to himself, and dark circles under his eyes.

Not to mention, of course, the small throw pillow and blanket that magically appeared on the couch in his office one day.

You weren’t surprised when he opened the hotel room door, still fully dressed, minus his jacket. You were barely a fourth of a way through your explanation for turning up at his door when he pulled you inside, lips bruising yours and hands gripping your skirt.

To him, it was always the damn skirt.

That night was the first of many. No one knew. No one knows now. Hotch continued to book you a room of your own, and you continued to spend your nights in his bed.

You mastered the art of sneaking to his room after everyone was in, and sneaking back to yours before anyone woke up.

Occasionally, you’d stay back at the BAU until everyone had left, just to spend a moment more with Hotch.

loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

No one knows this, but you’re the reason his dark circles left. The reason he didn’t stay as late anymore. Because you always coaxed him away, wanting dinner, or even just company as you walked to your car (where you’d then ask for dinner, or rightfully point out that he’s already at the parking garage, so he might as well go home).

Dinner one night turned into almost every night, except when he had Jack. Sleeping in his bed once became almost every night, except when Jack wanted to spend the night.

A label was never spoken about, but you never felt the need to speak about it. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one he was sleeping with and vice versa. Why did a label matter?

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Labels didn’t matter to you. Exclusivity is all that mattered, and you had that. You thought.

You had suspected Hotch started seeing someone else. But all you had was a gut feeling, and a feeling isn’t enough evidence.

i kept quiet so i could keep you

Soon it wasn’t just a feeling. Soon Hotch didn’t want to go to dinner anymore because he was leaving earlier than you — earlier than anyone else. Soon he started actually leaving for lunch on his lunch hour, and that’s when the rumors started swarming.

“Okay,” Garcia ushered everyone over in the bullpen. “Is. Hotch. Dating?”

Rossi chuckled. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like he knows something.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “Why do we think he’s dating someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Garcia gasped. “He just left the building on his lunch hour! I’ve never seen him leave for lunch the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Me either,” JJ agreed, to your horror.

“Maybe it’s just something with Jack,” you shrugged again, not even aware of your defensive tone.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

“What?” You blurted, eyes wide. “No? Am I supposed to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Reid pointed out lowly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said. You grimace, thinking about it now, but you didn’t have any energy then to know it was rude. Or to care.

You were paranoid. Horrified. You were in Hotch’s bed two nights ago, and now he was leaving on his lunch hour, and you had no idea what for. All signs pointed right where the rest of the team was thinking, but the thought made you sick.

So sick that the next night, when you found yourself once again in Hotch’s bed, you brought it up.

You tried to be nonchalant. You don’t know where it went wrong.

ain’t it funny? remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid

“How was lunch yesterday?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Something you used to gaze at in awe, but in that moment it made you panic. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You left for lunch and the whole team thought something was up.”

He merely hummed. Hummed. That was his reply.

“Emily thought I knew where you went,” you continued, tracing circles on your arm. Normally, you’d trace circles on his chest, but that felt wrong all of the sudden. “I told them I didn’t and they didn’t believe me.”

He chuckled quietly. “I went to lunch. That’s all.”

“With who?” You asked, far too quickly. Maybe that was your mistake. You were too accusatory too fast.

“Did it have to be with someone?” He retaliated, and looking back now, you see this moment here, this was the downfall.

“I mean,” you paused. “You normally stay in your office if you’re eating alone. I figured if you left then you were going to meet someone.”

“Oh.”

You hesitated. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he finally said, ripping the Band-Aid off once and for all. “Her name is Beth. But we’re just friends.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

He turned on his side then, facing you with his head propped on his arm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“You’re never curious.”

“You never leave the office to meet someone for lunch.” Especially not a woman, unless for whatever reason, Haley wants to have lunch and brings Jack, but the last time that happened was seven months ago, back when they were still trying to be friends after the divorce.

“I’m allowed to meet friends for lunch.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied, probably too harshly. “I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

you gave me your word but that didn’t matter

Weeks passed by and you watched Hotch leave every now and again to have lunch with Beth. He never explicitly told you that it was Beth he was meeting every single time, but you knew. You always knew.

Because the look he’d give you as he’d close his office door, phone in hand no doubt to send a text to her, letting her know he was on his way. The look he’d give you said it all.

You knew the end was coming. Truthfully, you knew the end of the two of you was coming from the first day he met her for lunch.

You had never seen him as happy as he looked when he came back. And with every lunch date, it got worse.

Yet, for some reason, he still invited you over. And for some reason, you still agreed without hesitation.

February came and your heart broke with it.

You knocked on Hotch’s office door, bag in hand, the question of dinner on your hopeful lips.

“Can we talk?” He asked, speaking before you had a second to breathe.

You nodded, stepped inside to your demise, not even bothering to sit down. You knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t.

Two sentences. That’s all it took.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is something I want long-term — for me or for you. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

For me or for you. He was always thinking of your well-being. It always annoyed you.

“Okay,” you had said, cracking a small smile to hide the pain. “Fun while it lasted, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Well, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

You couldn’t hold the tears in and they flowed freely before you were even out of the bullpen. You were thankful everyone had left. Imagine the explanation you would’ve had to conjure up. The web of lies he would’ve forced you to spin in five seconds.

Instead, you had to spin an entirely new web. All to explain why you weren’t sleeping, why you were drinking more, why you looked like you had cried all night the next day (you said it was allergies and insomnia; Morgan was the only skeptical one, but he let it go).

it took you two weeks to go off and date her

The real ending came when Valentine’s Day arrived. You were foolish to think he’d spend it with you, but you still did.

The jet landed back in Virginia after a long case, and you thought for sure Hotch would tap you on the way off of the jet, ask you to dinner, then back to his place, just like you did last year.

But he had made plans. With Beth.

You were delusional to think otherwise, but still, his smile cut right through you when he told Rossi he had plans.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

Derek, Emily, and Penelope wanted to go out for drinks and you were the first to agree, ready to forget the past year of your life.

Thankfully, you didn’t spill any secrets while drunk. You did confess to going through a breakup, but not with Hotch. No one will ever know it was Hotch. The “he” in question will forever remain a mystery to them.

Meanwhile, you watched Hotch fall deeper and deeper in love. He decided to run a triathlon, and he trained every morning -- with her. He left for lunch almost every day to go eat -- with her. He never stayed late, he always had plans -- with her.

He hardly ever spoke to you anymore. And you never spoke to him.

It became an unspoken agreement for you to leave finished paperwork on his desk without a word (if he was in there) or better yet, to drop it off while he’s at lunch.

You sleep in the hotel room furthest from his every case.

The seats next to him on the jet are off-limits and you’ve even gone to make a shitty cup of shitty coffee before to avoid him (and everyone knows you hate the coffee on the jet).

You somehow managed to never meet or hear about Beth until the triathlon — and you were apparently the only one who hadn’t met her yet.

Jack hugged her immediately that day. He had already warmed up to her and it made you want to claw your heart out.

Beth is nice. Beth is an angel. Beth is older, prettier, everything you knew Hotch wanted and wasn’t getting from you.

She shook your hand with a smile, none the wiser to the fact that you’ve slept with Hotch more times than you can remember. That your heart belongs to him even though you don’t want it to. Even though you want it back.

now you bring her around just to shut me down show her off like she’s a new trophy

Once you met Beth, it seemed like she was everywhere. Visiting the office, bringing Hotch lunch, bringing Jack in to visit, having coffee with Hotch in the cafe you used to frequent, at Rossi’s for family dinner nights. Everywhere.

Worst of all, at JJ and Will’s wedding.

You weren’t the only one to show up without a date, yet you felt like it. Especially when Hotch arrived with Beth on his arm, glowing like always, with Jack holding onto his hand.

You avoided Hotch all night — Beth too, but mostly him — yet he somehow managed to find you alone in the kitchen.

The wine was your saving grace of the night, and he happened to walk in as you were pouring another.

“I can hear your liver screaming from here.”

A poor attempt at a joke, really. Maybe it was funny. But you didn’t laugh. “I’ll survive” was your dry reply before downing half the glass.

His face looked softer, but you know now it was the wine in your system.

“You look good,” he had said. “How are you doing?”

You stared at him. “Fine. Thanks.”

You don’t know why he kept trying to have a conversation with you. You felt insufferable and you see now that you were, but it’s all his fault.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You chuckled dryly. “Not with you.” You paused. “How’s Beth?” Paused again, this time to bring the wine glass to your lips. “How’s a real relationship working out for you?”

Hotch’s face fell. “What we had was real. You know that.”

“I know it was,” you replied. “But do you? Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was all you needed.

and i know if you were true there’s no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly

You left him standing there in the kitchen without another word. You had nothing left to say to him, and he clearly ran out of words for you.

Derek found you halfway to the dance floor.

“Woah, I don’t like that look,” he said, taking the wine from you. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Let’s dance instead. Come on.”

You drug him away, meeting Penelope and Emily for the next song. You danced, you cried, you blamed the tears on the alcohol in your system. You slow danced with Emily, Derek, Rossi, narrowly avoided Hotch by swinging into Spencer’s fumbling arms.

No one knew. No one would ever know.

you betrayed me

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

[shootybangbang]

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Get Some - Tierna Davidson x Reader

Prompt: So I’ve got an idea for Tierna x Reader where they’ve just started dating after quarantined together in Chicago but haven’t told the team yet because they don’t want to mess up the dynamics right before the Olympics. Nobody really suspects anything bc they are both pretty tame at camps, and bc reader has severe baby face the team is always teasing her about being an innocent little fetus forgetting she is actually like 24. So when R shows up to Orlando camp in a bulky hoodie they think nothing of it assuming it’s from Chicago weather until they notice she refuses to take it off and keeps adjusting the hood to keep part of her neck covered. They let her be thinking maybe she’s just cold until she shows up ready for practice with her winter mock neck on under her practice jersey the next day. After they force her to take it off bc it’s 80° out they discover the hickeys she was trying to hide, along with the scratches on her back and freak out bc someone is “defileing the fetus” and grill her trying to figure out who it is while Tierna is just smirking to herself by her locker.

TL/DR: Tierna x Reader trying and failing to hide r’s “love marks” featuring Proud!Tierna and BabyFace!Reader

Note - this awesome human, pretty much wrote this me. 

“Cold munchkin?” Alex teased the forward as she sat next to her in the team meeting. Her hood up, sweater strings tied.

“Not all of us live in constant heat and humidity Morgan. I bet you’re jealous of my lack of tan too,” Y/N winked back, tugging the sweater tighter around her neck.

Tierna grinned behind them, struggling to stifle her laughter.

“Of course she’s jealous! Who wouldn’t want to look like this?” Rose slid in on the other side of Y/N.

“Yea Alex, pale is the new tan,” Sonnett squeezed Alex’s traps from behind as she sat down next to Tierna.

Alex rolled her eyes at unexpected turn.

Vlatko called attention to the rest of the room, starting the meeting for the start of camp.

Tierna kicked the back of Y/N chair while she continued to try and hide her grin from everyone around her. Lindsey giving her a strange look.

At the end of the meeting, everyone made their way to the banquet room for supper, still all separated until everyone’s test results came in.  

“Hey kiddo, you need someone to cut up your food at supper?” Kelley teased, nudging the forward as she made her way to her own seat.

“Ha ha,” Y/N fake laughed, rolling her eyes, “because I’m not old enough to have my knife.”

“You got it,” Kelley winked, shooting her air guns across the table.

After that conversation flowed easily, the players all talking to each other from a distance, making the room busy and loud; everyone eager to catch up.

After supper, Y/N and Tierna attempted to stall, hoping to steal a brief moment together before they all had to spend the night alone in their rooms.

“We should just tell them we had been quarantined in Chicago together, then we could be together,” Tierna tugged on Y/N’s sleeve, swinging both their arms back and forth.

“You need T to walk you to your room, so you don’t get lost?” Ali teased as she walked by.

“Where the hell does everyone keep coming from,” Tierna grumbled quietly, while Y/N rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

���I’m not a child!” Y/N stomped her foot.

“Great argument kiddo,” Pinoe held a thumbs up as she walked past to the elevator.  

“I can find my own room!” Y/N called after her, starting to walk away, only to feel another firm pull on her sleeve. She glanced down to see Tierna still holding on, looking up to see the smirk on her girlfriends face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tuck our kid into bed.” Tierna started to pull Y/N towards the stairs by her sleeve.

Once out of site of the rest of the team, Tierna pinned Y/N against the wall, untieing the strings to her hood. Nosing it out of her way, Tierna started kiss along her jaw line, placing a firm bite to her ear.

“I am addicted to you,” Tierna pulled the collar out of the way, moving her lips to Y/N’s collar bone, scrapping her teeth on it, then soothing it with a gentle kiss.

“Fuck T,” Y/N tilted her head back, giving Tierna more room to kiss. Her hand gripping the back of Tierna’s neck, other sliding under her shirt, scrapping her nails across her ribs.

Tierna sucked harshly Y/N throat, pulling back to see the result, a deep red mark already beginning to turn purple. “You’re going to need to ask the staff for a neck warmer tomorrow,” she whispered into Y/N’s throat, scrapping her teeth across the bruise.

Y/N pulled her hand out from Tierna’s shirt, placing her palms on her chest, debating if she should push her away. She loved what was happening, but knew they needed to stop before things got carried away, or Tierna left any more marks.

“Fuck T,” Y/N groaned out, beginning to push the defender away, “we aren’t in quarantine anymore, people can actually see us now, more importantly, our team can see now.”

“Hmm that would be unfortunate if someone saw these,” Tierna smirked as she leaned back in, attempting to place more kisses along Y/N’s neck. Only for Y/N to push more firmly against her chest.

“You’re killing me babe,” Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. Tierna looking completely unashamed, bit the air in front of Y/N, beginning to slide her hands up the front of Y/N’s shirt, digging her thumbs into her hips. Y/N moaned at the pressure, hips pressing out for more contact.

With a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips, Tierna pulled away completely, taking three large steps back and holding her hand out.

“Come on, I promised to make sure you make it to bed safe,” she winked, wiggling her fingers to encourage Y/N to grab.

“I hate you,” Y/N said gruffly, stepping forward to take Tierna’s hand.

“No you don’t,” she sung back, swinging their arms back and forth as they began walking up the stairs.

“I do a little bit,” she mumbled, looking away from the brunette, knowing her faux seriousness would crack as soon as she saw the large smile her girlfriend had on.

“Nope!” Tierna accentuated the ‘p’ at the end, swinging their arms higher, finally earning a giggle from her girlfriend. Her ability to go from pinning Y/N to the wall and leaving hickeys across her neck to innocent and childlike was incredible.

Y/N finally gave in completely and burst out laughing as they climbed the stairs, pushing her shoulders into the taller soccer player. The two gently wrestling the rest of the way up the stairs, separating as they made it to their floor.

Tierna walked Y/N to her door, making a show of it, “I’m just down the hall if you have any bad dreams,” she ruffled her hair and began to walk away. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

Several loud laughs could be heard from the doors that still remained open.

The next morning players prepared for practice on the side lines, tugging on cleats and debating on long sleeves or short sleeves, Y/N tugged her neck warmer on, tugging it all the way up to her ears.

“Yo, Chicago, shouldn’t you be used to the cold?” Kristie teased as they made their on the turf to warm up.

“Rude! I’m delicate!”

“Yea Kris be nice to the little kid,” Alex came from behind, rubbing her hands up and down Y/N’s biceps. “you cold? Do you need a sweater? Gloves?”

Y/N pulled out of Alex’s hands, rolling her eyes, “I’m fine, just a little chilly this morning.”

Everyone left it for the rest of the morning training.

Y/N was not as lucky that afternoon. Everyone offering warmer items of clothing when they saw her wearing the neck warmer again in the afternoon.

“Are you sick?” Christen reached up, attempting to feel Y/N’s forehead. Y/N was quick to duck out of the way, swatting Christens hand.

“Seriously guys, I’m fine, just not adjusting well to the climate change or something,” Y/N tried to avoid glaring at Tierna, knowing the defender would a smirk on her face throughout it all.

“Are you sure Y/N/N? Should we get the trainers?” know Tierna decided to join in the conversation. Y/N looked sharply at her girlfriend, clenching her jaw, she was the reason for the interrogation.

“I’m fine,” Y/N snarked to the group, “It’s a neck warmer, just drop it.”

“It is way to humid put here right now for you to be chilled,” Ali came over, rubbing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, sensing the forwards discomfort at being put on the spot. But also concerned for the younger woman, no one should be chilled in the mid-afternoon Florida heat.

The entire practice everyone kept an eye on the younger soccer player. As the intensity of the practice increased, Y/N continued to tug at the neck warmer she was wearing. The hair at the base of her skull soaked with sweat, the collar of shirt drenched the entire away around, face flushed as she heated up.

At the end of practice, Y/N attempted to pull her hoodie over head after she had pulled the neck warm off. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough her movements, the hem getting caught on her sweaty, tangled bun.

“What in the actual fuck happened to your neck?” Pinoe explained, stopping Y/N from pulling the sweater on, gaining the attention of the rest of the team.

Kelley quickly bounded over, pulling the collar of her practice shirt out of the way. The rest of the team now all looking on.

“What happened to your neck?” Alex came over as well, thumb and forefinger holding Y/N’s chin, moving her head around, inspecting the now very prominent hickeys spread across the neck, collar bone, and upper chest.

A loud cat call whistle was heard from behind and “Oh damn” thrown from someone else, follow up with “get some!”

“No! Don’t get anything!” Christen shot the group of young players a hard look, eyes sharp when she looked back to Y/N, “who did this to you?”

“What? This?” Y/N motioned to her neck, “I, uhh, got a tour of the aquarium. They let me hold one of the octopuses.” She finished with a firm nod, satisfied with her answer, smiling to herself.

Tierna remained on the bench a few feet away, coughing to cover her sudden laugh at the terrible story.

“Bullshit!” Alex challenged, still holding Y/N chin firmly. Y/N attempted to pull away, Alex adjusted her grip, palming her jaw.

“Who did this to you?” Christen asked again.

“You’re like 12! No one should be doing this to you!”

“I’m 24,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to pull away, only to be pulled back in.

“You are far too young to young to have hickeys!”

“I’ve had sex before.”

“No! you are not old enough to have sex!”

By now, Tierna was leaning back on the bench, watching as all the older players harassed her girlfriend, all unaware she was the cause of the marks on the young forward. She spread her arms on the back of the bench, leg casually crossed over the other, smug smile.

“Welp,” she popped the ‘p’, “I’ve kissed people, given hickeys, been hickied,” she motioned to her neck again, “and even had sex. Really good, mind blowing sex.” With a wink, Alex finally let her step out of her grip.

“Eww! No!”

“Y/N! Enough, tell us who did this to you? We obviously need to talk to them if they are doing things like this to you.”

“Guys, quit being so dramatic,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to take another step away from the over protective players.

“No no no, come back here,” Tobin stepped forward now. “That ones fresh!” she copied Alex’s motion earlier, gripping her jaw and tilting it up to the expose the fresh hickey on the side.

This caused them all to step closer and inspect the hickey for themselves. Tierna uncrossed her legs, sitting up a little straighter, smile slipping slightly.

“That means its someone at camp!” Kristie called from behind all the veterans.

Y/N eyes went wide, smile fully dropping from Tierna’s face. The overprotective players all looking around, scanning each player, trying to determine who it could be.

“Is it a player? Staff? Coach?” Alex looked firmly at the younger forward.

“Gonna go save your girl?” Alyssa slid onto the bench next to Tierna on the bench, smirking at her.

“What?” Tierna whispered, shocked, eyes darting quickly to the keeper.

“Well,” Alyssa started slowly, “most of those are old, so they happened in Chicago, and you, me, and Y/N/N were the only ones there together. And there’s a fresh one since we got here. And since I didn’t do it, that only leaves you.” She firmly poked Tierna in the chest.

Tierna opened and closed her mouth. “Umm, uhh, fuck.”

“I won’t tell, but you might want to go save her over there. You know none of them are going to drop it until they figure it out,” Alyssa shrugged, “besides it’s your fault really. You are the one that put those one there.”  

Tierna continued to open and close her mouth, then watched as the veterans continued to ask Y/N who It was and beginning to call out several of the younger players who were all enjoying the small interrogation.

“Fuck,” Tierna sighed out, she slapped her thighs and pushed herself to stand. “Kell, Stanford should take your degree away.”

Kelley whipped around to glare at Tierna as she walked toward the group, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re really not very observant,” Tierna smirked at her, “I’m going to let you guys think on this a little more, Y/N/N and I are going to head back to the hotel for supper.”

Y/N smirked and skipped toward the defender.

Everyone watched them walk away, mouth open, eyebrows creased.

“Wait,” Lindsey perked up, smile growing as she figured it out, “weren’t they both in Chicago together?”

That brought all eyes over to the midfielder.

“Yes!” Kelley pointed at her, “they did! Baby T defiled baby Y/N!”

“Shit, I thought we would get further away,” Tierna tugged Y/N’s hand encouraging them to run towards an available van.

“We aren’t done with this!” Alex yelled after them.

[crowdedimagines]

Worse Days - Aaron Hotchner

The faint dripping of water pulls me back to reality. The same sploosh happening over and over. Minute after minute. I pull my eyes open blinking, forcing them to focus. The swaying back and forth, left to right, doesn’t help ease the dizziness I feel.

“Looks like your girl is finally up.”

I look around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Wake up, sunshine!” He finally sits in front of me, taking my head in his hand. His fingers are coarse and strong. He forces me to look him in the eyes, his grip tight on my cheeks. He tilts my head to the tripod over his shoulder. The red light on the camera blinks back at me.

“Smile for the camera.”

This is not at all how today was supposed to go…

Twenty-Two Hours Ago.

“Alright, we’re looking at four women, murdered and found on the beach in Miami. All from different classes and backgrounds, but similar age groups” JJ hands us each our files.

“He takes them for three days, before brutally dismembering them. The morning of the fourth day, the woman is always found.”

“He takes risks. Each of these women were taken from high traffic areas.” I comment.

“There’s more.” Garcia suddenly takes over.

“He also sends a live feed to the family of the victim.” She reluctantly pulls it up on the TV, a live feed of the women pleading for their lives. Saying their goodbyes.

“He’s definitely a sexual sadist. He finds pleasure in knowing that families are watching their loved ones last moments.” I clear my throat, pulling my eyes away from the screen.

“That’s what he gets off on.” Derek agrees. “He likes knowing that there’s people in distress on the other end of the camera.”

“Wheels up in thirty.” Hotchner simply says before excusing us all.

As soon as we land we start the process to find the unsub. It begins with all of us splitting up and going to the scenes where the bodies were found. All of them were ditched on the beach, early morning before anyone was out.

We get nothing from the populated beaches other than sand in our shoes.

We sit down and look at the profile and determine the man is bold and try to analyze the footage we have from the previous victims. Penelope is trying to find any identifying marks from the videos to see where they come from. Based on the way he treats the bodies, we’ve determined he’s likely a white male in his early thirties. 

“It looks like they’re on a boat.” I say, we’ve been watching the videos on an endless loop. Trying to catch any new details. 

“The camera is steady.” Morgan argues, looking at the TV now too.

“But look at her hair, it’s moving when she’s not. It’s like the rocking of a boat.”

“It’s possible considering he’s ditching them on the beach.” Reid comments. 

“That’s why no one sees him dragging a body all across the beach. He already had them on a boat.” Ross puzzles together. 

“The most recent body was found this morning, that means he’s going to take his next victim tonight.” Morgan says.

“We should visit where each of the women were taken. Try and get an understanding of how he was able to do so in such populated areas.” Hoctchner announces, “Prentiss and Morgan, go to the grocery store where Hannah Lane was taken, Y/n and Spencer, go to the parking garage where Amy Bryant was abducted and Rossi and I will go to the last two locations.”

We all nod and go off in our separate directions. Spencer and I get in the car and drive to the parking garage where Amy was taken. We drive around until we reach the second level and get out.

“Even for a parking garage, it’s bold. It’s packed with cars on this level. Anyone could show up at any time.” I look around.

“You’re right, they could.” A voice calls out behind me before everything goes dark.

Present time.

“Morgan, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you it was a boat.” I stretch out my neck that has a kink from hanging loosely while sitting up in the chair for so long. It feels heavy, like I’ve been in this position a long time.

The man in front of me rolls his eyes, huffing loudly.

“You picked the wrong girl if you were counting on me melting like puddy in your hands. You forget that I know exactly what you want. You want the tears and the begging.”

“Trust me. You’ll get to that point.” He smirks. “They all do.”

He leaves the room, loudly pulling the door shut behind him as he goes.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks.” I plead with the camera, knowing that my team is on the other side of it. I can only imagine what they’re all feeling. We’ve had close calls with team members, it’s not any easier to be in their position right now. You feel helpless. 

“Definitely on a boat, but I think we’re just at a marina or a pier. I can hear seagulls, we aren’t rocking that much.”

I lean forward as best as I can while still being tied to a chair. There’s a small window along the ceiling allowing me to see blue skies.

“It might be a ship. I’m above sea level, I can see the sky.” I try to give the team as much information as I can possibly gather. Anything could help.

“Sorry that’s about all I have right now to help.” I look around the bare room for any other details that could help, “I think I have a concussion, and maybe a cracked rib. I can’t take a deep breath.”

Suddenly the man comes back in, just as quickly as he left, he takes the camera in his hands.

“That’s all of your Y/n time today. You should get to trying to find me, because I am going to have a lot of fun in the meantime.”

Back with the team at the Miami police department...

The feed cuts out leaving the team in silence and shock.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done. We couldn’t have known-”

“We could have waited.

Spencer looks down at the ice pack in his lap. As if the guilt wasn’t eating away at him enough before. He also received a concussion. Only he woke up on the ground, relatively nothing compared to the person he was sent out with.

“There was no way for us to know that the unsub was going to come back to visit the last scene of the crime.” Emily defends. She can see the pure anger in Aaron’s eyes. Completely unwavering, and only focused on getting Y/n back to the team.

“But that’s the thing. He wouldn’t, that’s not in his MO. He moves on to his next target. Once he kills these women he feels nothing, it’s all in the buildup, he feels nothing at the scene of the crime.” Rossi says, thinking out loud.

“Y/n helped JJ talk to the press. The unsub could have seen her then. It’s likely that he would follow the case, especially once it was announced that the FBI had joined the case.” Spencer rapidly explains.

“She’s the right age, she fits his type.” Rossi nods.

“So, he sees her as more of a challenge. He’s escalated. He knows that she is a higher risk person to take.” Emily comments. 

“Y/n, said she’s on a boat.” Morgan says, bringing up the clue that Y/n gave them before the feed cut out. 

“We’re in southern Florida, there’s thousands of boats within just a hundred miles of us.” JJ sighs, looking around to the group around her.

“Four thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two within 75 miles of here.” Spencer pipes up.

Hotchner cuts him a look. Still trying to find anyone to blame, but himself. He’s the one who sent her in to that parking garage. 

“Garcia, can you locate her based on the feed the unsub has sent us?” Aaron asks, looking at the plain black screen, hoping to see it come back on so he can see the girl behind the camera. 

“No sir, he’s using a different routing server, just like he did with all of his previous victims.”

“Y/n is not a victim.”

---

It takes some time while the team continues to try and work out locations and who the unsub could even be. He wasn’t afraid to show his face on camera, which makes things a little more difficult. He has no record, making Garcia’s life a little harder. 

The TV in the conference room lets out a crackle before the familiar room comes into their view. Everyone sets down what they had been working on and halts all conversation. It’s been several hours since we’ve seen anything from him. Y/n has been gone for eleven hours at this point.

“Welcome back to the show!” The unsub grins. 

He moves out of the way to finally put Y/n in the frame. She’s hunched over, she doesn’t look as good as she did before. It’s evident that things have changed off camera. 

“His name is Nick.” Y/n mutters, picking up her head as best as she can. “He’s five ten and approximately a hundred ninety pounds.” 

“Don’t you learn to shut up?” Nick pulls back on the hair at the back of her head. In doing so it reveals new bruises that have taken home on her. 

“Baby, we talked about this. No more sharing with them, or else you know what happens.” Nick brushes her hair out of her face now. 

“This is his dads boat.” Y/n looks at the man who has taken her with spite in her eyes. It seems in his hours spent with her, he hasn’t learned that Y/n doesn’t like to be told what to do. And that she’s tougher than she looks. 

He lands a sharp fist into the side of her head and takes a step back. He lets himself take a deep breath, trying to gain control. He doesn’t want to kill her yet, that would be over too soon. Now he can step closer again, he lets one hand wrap around her throat, halting any oxygen of reaching her lungs.

He waits for Y/n to start to struggle in her chair before he lets up. 

“You just don’t like to learn, that’s okay. I’ll fix you.” Nick takes her hand, which is still tied to the arms of the chair she’s sat in. He pulls her pointer finger with care, before sharply pushing it straight up, breaking it. 

“Garcia-” Y/n picks up her head struggling to fight against his hands, she’s coughing now still trying to gain her breath back, “You don’t need to see this. Please. Turn it off.”

“Of course, Y/n is the one being tortured and she’s worried about other people.” Morgan turns away, himself unable to watch this continue. Listening to Y/n’s screams and shouts are going to be enough to stick with him. Rossi forces himself to watch the girl he’s grown so close to since joining the team, brutally tortured in front of him. 

Everyone on this team has love for this girl. She’s managed to worm her way into everyone’s life in some way or another. Y/n always knows exactly what each person needs, and she meets it. She holds the team together when they’re all falling apart. If anything were to happen to her, it would destroy them all. 

Especially Aaron. As reluctant as he would be to admit it, this girl has wormed her way into his heart. Different to everyone else on the team, though. He saw her beauty and kindness. It was hard to him to imagine a woman ever entering his life like Haley did, but Y/n did it with such grace, and without even trying. Y/n helped him out with Jack when he needed it, and made them meals when Aaron just needed to catch a break. She didn’t even need a thank you, it was just part of her.

Without even trying, Y/n became his person and all he can think now is that he never got the chance to tell her, never even got the chance to thank her, and that he won’t let happen.  He wants to see Y/n’s face in person, not bruised and bloody through the screen on the wall. He needs to get out to save her.

“Garcia, does that help you narrow your search.” Hotchner asks their tech who is still on speaker. 

“We’ve got twenty-two Nicks with boats in the Miami area.” She explains. 

“What about Nicks who have wealthy fathers? Or boats that weren’t originally in their name.” Spencer asks. 

“That leaves me with one. Nick Hoffman.” Garcia cheers, “Sunset Harbour on 1928 Sunset Harbour Drive” 

The team takes off without a second thought, quickly trying to save their girl. They manage to get there in record time and find the boat with success. Y/n was right, it’s more like a ship with its size. 

“Morgan, Rossi, work your way around the main levels and then below. Emily and I will lead the upper level.” 

The team takes off to clear the boat. It took a few empty rooms until Emily finally opens the door to where they are. Nick holds a knife to Y/n’s throat. He’s essentially using her as a shield, ducking behind her. 

“If you take one more step in here, I will slit her throat.” Nick shouts. 

“We don’t want that to happen.” Emily negotiates, Hotch finally stepping into the room. 

“Hey! I told you guys not to move!” He presses the blade down tight against Y/n’s neck while she lets out a shudder. 

“Let her go.” Hotch declares. 

“I want a deal.” Nick grovels. 

“Men like you don’t get deals.” Emily says, her eyes trained on him and all of his movements. 

“Not even for your precious Y/n’s life?” He grins, looking down at the girl below him now. 

“Go to hell.” She mutters as best she can., 

“Maybe killing you would be worth it.” He smirks, “Then we could go out together.” 

“I’ve got better plans.” Y/n throws her head back into Nick’s disorienting him enough that Hotch has a clear shot, and he takes it. Nick’s body falls and Emily kicks his knife out of reach.

“Get me out of this chair.” Y/n shakes, squirming to get out of the spot she’s been constrained to. “Get me out of here, please.” 

Hotch and Emily both holster their weapons and rush to help her. They quickly untie her and when her legs fail her, Hotch scoops her up. He quickly walks her down the stairs and doesn’t stop once he reaches the dock, he takes her all the way up to the ambulance. 

Without hesitation, Hotch gets in with her. There isn’t anything that could keep him from leaving her now. 

“Wow, that was a dramatic ending, huh?” Y/n grins. 

“You can’t seriously be cracking jokes about this now.” He sighs. 

“I mean come on, aren’t you going to even ask how I figured out his name was Nick? I figured it out when he ow-” 

Y/n cuts herself off when the paramedic starts feeling her ribs to see which are cracked and if any are broken.

“Y/n, we can talk about this later.” Aaron smiles. 

“Am I hallucinating? Is it the lack of oxygen, because you’re smiling.” Y/n comments, finally turning to look at her boss who has a smile that she knows he saves for Jack. 

“You’re back. That’s reason to smile.” 

They make it to the hospital to find out that Y/n has a concussion, one broken rib and three cracked ribs, and one broken finger. Not to mention the trauma to the trachea. 

“The gangs all here.” Y/n smiles, noticing Garcia has flown down to join the group. Everyone has been gathered in the room since everything settled down, “What are you doing here?” 

“Y/n, you were kidnapped.” Garcia states, still in shock, “You could’ve died.” 

Tears fill Penelope’s eyes and Y/n opens her arms from her hospital bed for a hug, which she easily accepts. 

“Ehh, I knew you guys would find me.” Y/n grins. “I’m fine Pen, I’m getting discharged in the morning and we can all go home.” 

“Yes, speaking of, we should all get some rest. Especially Y/n.”

Slowly, the rest of the team clears out, giving hugs on their way. 

“Not taking your own orders?” Y/n asks, noticing her boss making himself comfortable on the small couch in her hospital room. 

“I don’t think I could leave if I tried.” Aaron admits. 

“And why’s that?” Y/n asks, carefully turning to lay on her side to face him. 

“Because I love you.” He confesses, “I have for a while now, and it’s alright if you don’t feel the same, or if my position with this team makes you uncomfortable. I just don’t think I can go any longer without you at least knowing.”

“You love me?” Y/n asks, her voice cracking. Aaron finally has the courage to look over and she has tears in her eyes. 

“Yes.” He clears his throat, “The way you have become a part of my life, and Jack’s for that matter. You bring so much light with you everywhere you go, even after a day like you’ve had today. You manage to still be the brightest person I have ever met.”

“Please don’t make me get out of bed to kiss you, because I think I would crack another rib.” Y/n sighs. 

Hotch lets out a soft chuckle before getting up from his spot. 

“Only if you promise to go to bed after this, you need rest.” 

“Promise.” 

He leans down to connect their lips, it’s soft. Y/n can tell that he’s being gentle with her. She reaches up a hand to thread them through Aaron’s short hair, using it to her advantage to hold him there and pull him a little closer. They pull away eventually, Y/n stealing one more peck before fully letting go of him.

“Ok, maybe I’ve had worse days.” 

---

AHHHHHH my first time writing for criminal minds! i hope you guys liked it! 🥺

[cherry-lipbalm]

a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Arthur Morgan request where just the reader being there when Arthur comes back after being tortured and caring for him?

A/N: I know I already did one like this (Goodbye Kisses) but I really love this whole mission/scene in the game so I did another one :) I hope you like it babe!

Warnings: nothing out of game canon, mentions of Arthur’s wound, potential spoilers for chapter 3, spoilers for Blessed Are the Peacemakers

***

“How long are you gonna stand out here?”

You turned your head to see Hosea approaching you. You stood where the hitching posts for the horses were, your eyes scanning the trail commonly used to enter camp. Your arms were crossed and your shoulders were tense. Your jaw had been locked until Hosea spoke to you.

You let out a small breath through your mouth. 

“Until he comes back.”

“You know him, Y/N. Always out and traveling.” Hosea came to stand beside you. 

“But he didn’t tell me he would be going anywhere after meeting with Colm, Hosea. He would’ve told me if he had plans to go somewhere else.” 

“Oh I’m sure Morgan don’t tell you everything, sweetheart.”

You looked over your shoulder at Micah. 

“He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a woman breathing down his neck the way you do.”

“This is none of your concern, Micah.” Hosea told him, glaring at the man. 

“I’m just trying to calm Miss Y/N’s nerves, Hosea.” Micah put his hands up as he came to stand next to you. “We don’t want her worryin’ her pretty little self to death now, do we?”

You cringed at his words, your stomach churning.

“Come get something to eat, Y/N.” Hosea turned his attention back to you. “It’s been a long day. In the morning if he’s not back, I’ll send Charles and John out for him.”

“I will in a minute.” You nodded, giving him a little smile.

“I’ll get you a bowl. Better not let it get cold.”

He walked away, leaving you alone with Micah Bell.

“You know, I don’t think he’s coming back.” Micah took a swig out of the liquor bottle in his hand.

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s a dangerous world out there, sweetheart. Wouldn’t expect a little filly like you to understand.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Moving on is probably what’s best for you.”

You gritted your teeth together, your eyes falling on the trailhead. Your nails dug into your bicep as your mind raced with endless scenarios. 

“Arthur would want that for you. He’d want you to be happy.” Micah reached out to brush his fingers over your hair. 

You swatted his hand away, turning to face him in the same instant. 

“Don’t put your goddamn hands on me, Micah Bell.”

“You’re a feisty one.” He smirked. “I like that.”

“What’s that in the woods?” Mary-Beth’s voice caught your attention. 

Your head snapped in the direction of the woods, eyes almost frantically finding the trailhead. 

Arthur’s horse moved along the trail at a walking pace. Something- or someone -was on its back hunched over. The horse stopped and Arthur’s body slipped off, hitting the ground with a thud. 

Time slowed down. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You could barely hear Mary-Beth and Karen shout Arthur’s name. You weren’t sure when Dutch had come to stand next to you, but even his voice sounded distant when he yelled. 

Soon, there was a small crowd of people gathered around Arthur. 

You couldn’t move, too afraid to find the man dead on the ground. Your heart was in your throat and you felt light headed. But then Arthur spoke and you could suddenly breathe again. 

“I told you it was a setup, Dutch.”

You found yourself sprinting to him, roughly shoving Bill to the side. 

“Move! Move!” Your voice was weak at first but then it became more demanding and almost hostile. “Back up! Give him some space!”

“Do what the woman said!” Dutch’s voice resonated better than yours and the crowd listened better to his words rather than your aggressive pushes and shoves. 

You finally got to the center of the circle, finding Mrs. Grimshaw looking down at him.Your eyes met Arthur’s and tears blurred your vision. You forced them back. You didn’t even get a chance to say anything to Arthur before Dutch was shouting orders at Grimshaw, Pearson, and Swanson. 

You were still trying to process what you had just seen, to process the state that you had seen Arthur in. 

Pearson and Dutch took Arthur to his tent while Swanson and Grimshaw followed. 

Once again, you were stuck in place, left alone, and unable to move. 

The lump in your chest was expanding, pushing its way into your throat. Your hands hurt so bad from how tight you were curling your fingers into fists. 

A hand on your shoulder made you jolt. It was Charles. 

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t find your voice immediately. 

“I-I’m…. He’s- Arthur-He’s-,”

“He’s here now.” Charles cut you off, his quiet baritone soothing. “Go see him. I’m sure he’d rather see your face than Swanson’s.”

You nodded, forcing your legs into motion. 

Swanson was just stepping out of Arthur’s tent when you arrived. He whispered something incoherent to Dutch and Hosea. Then their eyes fell on you. 

“Y/N.” Hosea said your name as if to announce your presence to everyone else. 

“Can I go in?” You gestured to the tent. 

“Of course, of course. You need anything at all, give us a holler.”

As they left the tent to go to a nearby fire, you slipped into the tent. 

Mrs. Grimshaw looked at you, offering you a little smile. 

“How-How is he?” You made sure to keep your eyes on her. You couldn’t look at Arthur, not yet. You weren’t ready to look at how hurt he was in the oil lamp light. 

“It’s hard to tell right now, darlin.’” She whispered, though Arthur could hear her. “He’s got a bad wound to his shoulder. Needs cleaned. There might be more but he’s stubborn. Didn’t want to talk about what hurt. Just kept askin’ for you.”

You nodded. 

“I can clean him up. Just-Just get me what I need.”

“I’ll get it to you right away.”

You watched Grimshaw leave, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Your stomach was twisting up into knots. Your palms were clammy as you made fists by your sides. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your heart thumping in your chest and ears. 

“Pumpkin.” Arthur’s voice was raspy. 

Instinctually, you turned your head to look at him. The second your eyes fell on him, the tears you had been so desperately fighting escaped. 

“Oh, pumpkin.” He tried to sit up but winced, his face contorted with pain. 

“Don’t you dare try to get up, Arthur Morgan.” Though you meant to sound stern, your voice quivered. 

“Don’t cry, pumpkin.” Arthur patted the bed next to him. 

You moved to his side, carefully sitting down on the mattress next to him. You placed your hand on his chest, needing to feel him, to know for sure that he was okay. 

His skin was so pale and his shoulder wound looked awful. He didn’t look like he should’ve been alive. 

Arthur took your hand from his chest and kissed your knuckles. 

“I-Arthur, I thought-,”

“I know.” He stopped you, giving your hand a little squeeze. “M’sorry for worryin’ ya.”

You shook your head, bringing your free hand up to wipe your cheeks. 

“Arthur, I was scared I was never going to see you again.”

“That’s silly talk. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from you. You know that.”

“Y/N?” Grimshaw said your name, wanting to announce her arrival before entering. 

“Come in, Susan.” You turned your attention to her. 

She walked in with a bowl of water, a few towels over her shoulder, and a couple other bottles tucked under her arm. 

“Are you gonna let Miss Y/N help you get cleaned up so you can get better for us, Mr. Morgan?”

“M’gonna try, Mrs. Grimshaw.” He let out a little sigh. 

“Well you better try real hard. We need you to get better. This camp can’t operate properly without you.”

“That’s mighty kind of you to say.”

“Only speakin’ the truth.” She placed the items down on the end table and placed her hand on your shoulder. “You let me know if you need a hand with him.”

“Thank you.” You watched her leave.

“Hey, pumpkin?”

“Yes, Arthur?” You looked back at him. His eyes were slowly closing but he seemed to be fighting the urge to fall asleep. “Arthur Morgan, you can’t sleep just yet.”

“I know, I know.” He brought his right hand up to rub his eyes, wincing when he accidentally bumped the cut below his eye. “M’not trying to.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up then so you can get to bed.” You pulled the knife off of your hip and moved to the side of the bed. Arthur watched you, trusting you enough to know you wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Just gonna get your union suit off of you.”

“Guess I’m lucky you know how to use a knife.”

“Don’t move and we’ll be fine.” You teased a little.

You unbuttoned the chest of his union suit, then used the knife to cut the arms.

In the dim light provided by the oil lamps, you could see dark blue and purple bruises on his sides and along his ribcage. You’d have to check on those later. For now, you needed to tend to his shoulder wound. 

“Already took the bullet out. You don’t gotta dig around in there.”

“Good. You’re still not gonna like this.” You picked up a bottle of liquor that rested on the ground next to the bed. 

“Shit.” Arthur mumbled. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured.

“It’s fine, pumpkin. You gotta do it.”

You picked up a towel Grimshaw had brought and began to pour a decent amount of the liquor on to the wound. Arthur tensed up, his fingers curling around the bedding beneath him. 

“Ah, fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, darlin’.” You repeated softly, gently wiping away the excess liquor that spilled down his arm. It broke your heart to know it was hurting him, but this would clean the wound and hopefully keep it from getting infected. 

You moved towards the chest at the foot of the bed. Arthur’s eyes followed you.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

You said nothing. 

“Usually you’re always askin’ me questions about where I been and who I met on my travels. What animals I ran into.”

“I know what animals you ran into.” You pulled a roll of clean bandages from the chest then returned to his side. “I-I don’t know that I can handle it tonight, Arthur.”

“Pumpkin, everything’s fine-,”

“Everything is not fine, Arthur!” You cut him off, raising your voice as you looked down at him. “You are not fine! You don’t sound fine! You sound half fucking dead and you look worse than that! All because Micah thought there was some sort of rekindling this fucking fued between Dutch and Colm!”

Arthur stayed silent. 

You unraveled the bandages, calming down just a little so you no longer yelled at him. 

“I swear, Arthur. I’ve never seen Dutch make more stupid decisions than he has since we’ve taken in Micah Bell.”

“Micah’s got that effect on people.”

“It’s funny you think this is some joke, Arthur.” You shook your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You think this is some joke when you almost didn’t make it home-,”

“Hey.” He firmly stopped you, brows drawing together. “Nothin’ was gonna stop me from makin’ it home to you. I already said that. I know you were scared and I know no matter how much I tell you you had no reason to be scared it won’t make a difference. But I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Barely.” You murmured.

“Well I ain’t leavin’ this camp until I’m a hundred and ten percent better. That could be weeks.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “Weeks of me not leavin’ your side for jobs or for travelin’ days away.”

A little smile began to form on your lips. 

“Weeks of me followin’ you around like a lost dog.”

“That sounds pleasant.”

Arthur chuckled.

You began to wrap his shoulder, the smile still lingering on your lips. 

“I like that idea.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get hurt more often.”

“Arthur.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Just jokin’ with you, pumpkin.”

Taglists:  @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @zodiacaldust @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication 

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[ivyyreid]

stars in your eyes

2 description: reader is tortured, spencer tries and save her.

category: definetly angst, maybe a teeny tiny bit of fluff?

tw: death, mentions of cuts, burns, kidnapping, words like ‘whore’, knives.

masterlist

spencer’s pov:

the team sits around the table, at the sacramento police department conference room. well, everyone but y/n. y/n is also the reason the team is in the conference room. 

while the team was tracking down an unsub, y/n was kidnapped, drugged, and taken to who knows where. 

at 27, she’s the youngest member of the team so everyone is protective of her. but it’s not just because of her age. it’s because she’s just herself. funny, sarcastic, bubbly, bold, gorgeous, and affectionate. even her flaws are lovable.

we all sit at the round table, discussing where she could be. the only thing we know, is that she was taken as leverage, or as a warning. all our other theories on where she could be are a bit too far-fetched.

our unsub is a woman named coleen robbins. she’s been kidnapping, torturing, and killing girls in their 20s who resemble the girl her boyfriend cheated on her with. y/n fit the description exactly. y/h/c hair, y/e/c eyes, and freckles. we didn’t notice until it was too late.

garcia's been on facetime with us for the past two hours, helping us trace pointless leads, or trying her best to track coleen. none of our efforts are working though. y/n’s phone is off, and coleen hasn’t used her credit card or anything. we’re at a loss.

hotch is pacing back and forth by the whiteboard, rossi is staring out the window, emily and jj are looking at every other victim’s file together, derek has his head in his hands, and I’m just sitting here. This is one of the only times where my brain is of no use to the team. 

“hey guys?” Garcia’s voice is wobbly, somethings wrong. “i just got emailed a link. you’re gonna want to see this. i’m sending it to you now.” i’m racking my brain trying to think of what the link could be. i have nothing. that is, until a live feed pops up on the television. everyone gasps, and i feel all the blood rush from my face.

y/n is tied to a chair, in the middle of a dark room. there are burns, cuts and bruises all over her body. coleen stands behind her, twisting a knife in between her fingers. 

“oh my god,” hotch mutters, and everyone else just stares at the television in stunned silence. “go on, you little whore. say your goodbyes,” coleen’s icy voice slips through the speakers in the room, and I hold back the urge to punch the tv screen.

y/n looks up, her face illuminated by a single light bulb. she smiles weakly. she’s the only person I know who would focus on others feelings in a situation like this. 

“hey guys,” she says, her voice wobbling a bit. for some reason she’s smiling a bit. “i wish i could say bye in person, but this is the best i can do i guess,” she laughs weakly, and plays with her fingers; her nervous habit. 

“rossi,” she starts, and he looks up at the screen, his eyes brimming with tears. “oh my god I’m going to miss you so much. you’re the only person I know who brings instant pasta in their suitcase, and you can always make me smile. just, keep being yourself, don’t change.”

“hotch, you’re like the strict, loving father I never had” her voice breaks, and she laughs a bit. no one else does. “you were always there for me, for my first dead body, my first case, everything. you’re the reason that i didn’t quit after my first case. you helped me get through it, and you can always keep me on track. i’ll miss you so much.” hotch tries to maintain a normal, serious expression but I can see the pain in his eyes. 

“emily, you’re so funny and sarcastic and beautiful and amazing. i’m always wishing i knew more about you, you’re just so interesting! i still can’t tell if you were joking when you said you worked at a strip club or not,” a tear spills out of Emilys eye, and she mumbles something to the tv screen. “i love you endlessly, please please never change,” y/n says, and i see her blink away a tear or two through the screen. 

“penelope, you’re probably one of the most unique, amazing people i’ve ever met. i remember on my first day i was so scared and nervous, and you just gave me a huge hug when i walked in, and I knew everything would be fine. i love your hair, and your outfits, and the way you greet the phone. i love you so much, never ever change or I will rise from the dead and perform some satanistic ritual on you” I hear penelope cry through the facetime video.

“derek. you’re just so great, and it will always amaze me how you always have a girl on your arm. i loved every second of getting drunk with you, even when you would force me to do karaoke. please do me a favor and marry penelope.” derek puts his hand on his head, and stays silent. i can see the emotion on his face.

“and jj, I don’t know how to thank you for being my first real best friend. i never really had people i could trust, but then i met you and i knew, i knew we would be friends until the end. you’re so gorgeous, i’ve spent hours wishing i was you. i’ll miss our saturday girl’s breakfasts, and our movie nights, and even you calling me at four am to say we have a case. love you forever.”

jj sobs, but everyone else is too upset to comfort her. i know it’s my turn for the goodbyes. but i can’t do it. i want to run out of the room, punch a wall, i can’t do this. i can’t watch her say bye to me, while i think about everything i never said, everything i should have said. i should have said it when we sat on the roof and watched the stars. i should have said it when we sat in the car and ate ice cream and listened to 90s music. i should have said it everytime we sat in the cafe and drank coffee with way too much sugar. i should have said it. but i didn’t. and now it’s too late.

“spencer.” y/n’s voice comes in through the tv, and i bring myself to look up. she has a sad smile on her face, and she’s holding back tears. “spencer, my best friend. not even my best friend. best friend was just too generic, you were so much more than a best friend. we were the type of people who would look at the stars together, and talk about constellations, and the theory of the universe together. we were the type of people who would come over to each others apartments at three am and watch movies or lay in bed and stare at each other and just talk. we were the type of people who would sit in the parked car, eating ice cream and forcing each other to listen to nineties music or beethoven. we would sit together in the police department for hours, drinking coffee to keep us awake while we tried to solve a case. we would laugh at each others jokes that no one else understood, and compare our opinions on classic novels. i remember the first day i met you, when i spilled coffee all over you in the elevator, and you told me this crazy fact about how meeting someone for the first time when you’re embarrassed strengthens a relationship. and then i remember i took you out for coffee because i felt bad, and then you accidentally spilled it on me. i remember getting home and laughing for hours. we were the type of people who were happier when we were with each other. and whatever star I was born under, you were born under it too. we’re not best friends spencer, we’re soulmates. and...and....I love you.” her voice breaks, and she looks at the camera with a nostalgic face, like she’s already gone. 

i cry, i can’t help it. i just want to scream, ‘i love you too!’. i want her to hear me. but it’s too late. it will always be too late. 

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

we’re all in the suvs. coleen gave us her location. i know i should be rejoicing, but it was what she said after she gave it. ‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’ I yell at morgan to go faster, even though deep down i know he’s doing everything he can.

‘now you’ll be able to watch her die.’

after what feels like an eternity, we pull up to a small shed. everyone jumps out of the van, vests on, guns and flashlights in their hands. morgan kicks down the door, and we all run in. i hear hotch yell that he has coleen, but i don’t care. i need to find y/n. i run from room to room, panicking, until I reach a small porch at the back of the house. and y/n’s there.

she always seemed so large in life, but now, nearing her death, she seems so small. like a little girl. i hold back tears, i have to be strong for her. she’s lightly breathing, and watching the sky. when I reach her, i sit down, and cradle her head in my lap. 

“i wanted to see the stars,” she whispered, and i nod, watching her face.

“remember that day…. that day in the park?” she says, tilting her head to look up at me. 

of course i do. we had just gotten back from a long case, and y/n had me come to the park with her, to watch the sunset. we laid down in the grass, and watched the sky. i was still struggling with the case, and i was telling her about how awful it was, when she grabbed my hand, and pointed at the sky. look at how beautiful the world is, she had said. without hard cases, and ugliness, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate this. we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the beauty of everything, she told me, and I remember I had just stayed silent, watching the angelic-looking girl.

“of course,” I say, and she smiles up at me, blood dripping down her face. 

“remember how pretty the sunset was? how beautiful everything was? you have to remember the beauty of that day, spencer. the sky was glowing, and trees were rustling, and birds were singing. the earth is beautiful. that was the day I knew i loved you. when I held your hand, and we just looked at the sky.” she brings a hand up, and touches my face gently. of course she’s the one who’s comforting me when she’s dying. i stay silent, cradling her head, and stroking her hair. she looks at me again, and i see pain in her eyes. “i don’t want to die, spencer” y/n whispers, her voice breaking a bit, “i don’t want to die like this. i don’t want to die, spence” a tear slips down her cheek, and i notice i’m crying a bit. “hey, hey, shhhhh” i comfort, wiping the tear off her face. she stares back at the stars. this is my chance to tell her. i know she’s going to die, and it’s completely pointless because she already knows, but I have to. 

“i love you, y/n. i love you so much. i’ve loved you, and i don’t want you to go”. the girl turns and looks at me, a sad smile on her face. “i know, spence. and i love you too. so much”. I stroke her hair, wishing I could kiss her but i can’t. she looks at my red eyes, and my tear stained cheeks, and starts humming. humming a song. our favorite song. my head fills the lyrics in. 

you’re a part time lover, and a full time friend.

the monkey on your back is the latest trend,

i don’t see what anyone can see, 

in anyone else.

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,

i kiss you all starry eyed my bodies swayin’ from side to side

i don’t see what anyone can see,

in anyone else, but you.

here is the church, and here is the steeple, 

we sure are cute for two ugly people,

i don’t see what anyone can see, in anyone else.

suddenly, she stops and turns and looks at me, and suddenly i realize this is it. “i can see the stars in your eyes, spence” she whispers, and i watch as the breath leaves her body. the way she sadly smiled, before her eyes glazed over to look at the sky, the way her lips parted. and it’s kind of beautiful. but there was something sad and terrible about it too. because it was death. 

i can see the stars in your eyes, spencer.