#no unsubbed capture because my computer is bad

[choppahface]

And you will find them for me. From what I understand, that is your area of expertise.

[mdawritings]

“Arrested” [Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader]

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: E

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader

Wordcount: 8,510

Summary: 

The BAU is working a case in the DC area: an unsub killing women outside of nightclubs and bars. When you get arrested and manage to end up in the same precinct as Aaron Hotchner, the team discovers that their unit chief has been sleeping with a MUCH younger woman. Even more importantly, they discover that aside from being Hotch's fuck buddy, you have had direct contact with the unsub. Told through cute and smutty flashbacks throughout your relationship with Aaron.

AO3 Link

It had been weeks since you’d seen Aaron. The first week you didn’t see him was because of a case over the weekend in Florida. You had sent him a few scandalous pictures while he was flying home…

You rest your head against the arm of your sofa lazily. You reach for the phone and look at the simple text from Aaron. “On the way home now. I want to see you soon.” Just those words send bolts of happiness, excitement, and arousal through you. You press the top of your phone to your lips to suppress your growing smile. You text him back.

“Been imagining your hands touching me instead of my own”

Aaron picks up his phone at the chime. He reads the message from you and can’t help but start to stir a little. God, the thoughts of you home alone… touching yourself thinking about him. Yeah, that definitely does something to him. It’s not like you weren’t in his thoughts the entire time. It's difficult to focus on a case when all he really wants is to be home, buried under the covers with you, taking in your light, yet intoxicating perfume. Touching your soft, perfect skin. Hearing you scream his name… He almost lets out a moan but catches himself and looks around the jet at his sleeping coworkers.

He quickly replies to your message, “Oh yeah?”

You jump up from the couch, exhaustion rapidly dissipating from your previously sore limbs at the thought of seeing Aaron tonight. Memories of his large hands touching, groping, squeezing your body flood into your mind.

You hurry to slip on the purple lingerie set you bought. You stand in front of your bathroom mirror. You take a few minutes, capturing some, quite honestly, fucking amazing photos.

“Missing the feeling of you buried inside me” You send the photos along. You grow even happier at the thought of him getting a fucking hard-on while just a few feet away from his sleeping coworkers. You revel in the effect you manage to have over such a powerful, dominant, authoritative man. It makes you especially proud to think about his normal demeanor, stoic, hard-faced, serious, and how easy it is for you to reduce him to simpering, whimpering, moaning mess under your touch. Your phone chimes a mere seconds after sending the photos.

“You are torturing me. We HAVE to see each other when I land”

You fell asleep in your bed in that lingerie waiting for him. You didn’t see his messages until the next morning, saying the sitter for Jack fell through and he probably wouldn’t be able to see you until next weekend.

At the start of the second week, he got called away to a case in California. That one took up the whole week and by the time he got home, he was way too exhausted to spend time with you.

This kind of thing went on for two weeks. A full month without Aaron had been torture. It wasn’t like you expected him to drop everything and come running to you. You understand he has a kid to take care of and an FBI unit to run. Plus, it isn’t like you two are really dating. Do you sometimes wish you were? Hell yes. Is it reasonable or feasible? Absolutely not.

That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy what you have going on right now. He comes over to your place, tired and frustrated from a long day at work, and he— well he fucks your brain out. You’re always working hard on your Ph.D. and Aaron’s job is just plain stressful. You both need and enjoy the amazing stress relieving benefits of casual sex. You do enjoy each other’s company without having sex sometimes. It usually happens on those weekends when you or he or both of you are way too exhausted. But really, it's the moments after sex that make you question what you truly are to one another…

Your heart rate begins to steady and you can’t help but smile up at Aaron. He looks down at you with that small Hotchner version of a smile. It’s a smile that wouldn’t seem like much to anyone else, but you know how infrequently he lets the corners of his mouth turn up in happiness. “How do you do it?”

You soon realize after letting the words out, (and from the confusion on his face), that he cannot, in fact, read your mind and understand what you mean, “How do you go from seeing all that bad out there in the world to lying in this bed with me with that adorable smile on your face?”

For a split second, you think you’ve said something wrong. The smile falls from his face and his brows tense up. You always tease him about his eyebrows, telling him the more he frowns the more wrinkles he’ll get.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to cross a line—”

“I don’t want to pull you into all this… my work. I want to protect you from it.” Your heart practically sinks into your stomach. That’s not the type of language you use with your casual sex partner. Then again, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t worry every time he leaves for a case. You worry that you’ll never see him again. You won’t even find out he’s dead because no one knows about the two of you.

“Y/N,” he pulls you out of your thoughts. His voice cuts through the silent room and you look back up into his soft eyes. They’re searching your face, scanning your behavior. You can tell he’s trying to figure out what you could possibly be thinking.

“Stop doing that,” you warn him, but your tone is light-hearted, “That whole studying my behavior thing you do.”

“Profiling,” he corrects you and runs a hand over your hair. The action is like a natural reflex for him, he’s not even consciously aware he’s pulling you closer to him.

“Right. That. Stop profiling me,” you laugh.

“Well, how am I supposed to know what’s spinning around in your head when you zone out like that.”

“I’m thinking about the fact that you listen to me rattle on and on about statistical physics but you don’t talk about your job.”

“You need to stop talking about physics after sex. It makes me feel like I’m sleeping with Reid,” he laughs and notices your confusion, “He’s a coworker of mine. You’d like him.”

You’d like him. That phrase sticks with you. Does that mean he wants you to meet his coworkers someday?

You’re not sure why you and Aaron never discuss a real relationship. Well, it’s more like Aaron never discusses a real relationship. Aaron doesn’t really discuss anything. The first time you really talked to him you thought his closed-off nature was charming, dreamy…

“Aaron Hotchner… right?” You look over the man who has just walked up to the bar next to you.

He reaches for the beers he’s just ordered, obviously for a group, but stops as you call out his name, “I’m sorry do I know you?”

“You work for the FBI… Behavioral something unit.” Your laugh sounds loud and obnoxious to you, but to him, it’s bright and cuts through the din of the chaotic bar.

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. He looks you over before turning his attention back to your face, searching it for answers.

“Oh god!” You're not really the type to strike up a conversation with a man in a bar but you’re feeling bold, not to mention empowered by the liquor, “I must seem so crazy. You gave a talk at Georgetown I attended. I’m a Ph.D. student there. It was about criminal psychology.” His face softens as he begins to realize you’re not a crazy stalker nor an obsessed fan. You stick your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, again, I guess,” He nods as he shakes your hand. You can tell he’s just trying to be polite and he glances over his shoulder at a group of people at a booth. Their eyes are all on you two. He wants to go back but something about you is drawing him in. “So you’re pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology?” He moves to sit at the bar next to you.

“Actually no.” You feel flush rushing into your face as he moves closer to you and sits down. You can’t help but look over his body. He’s much closer to your height now that he’s sitting down. He’s wearing a black quarter zip and dark jeans. His hair is neatly gelled back. He does not fit into this atmosphere. “I’m getting a Ph.D. in physics. I conduct theoretical research on the experimental implementation of quantum computing with trapped ions in— I conduct research.” Your blush deepens.

Aaron smiles widely at your ranting before jumping in, “So what were you doing in a criminal psychology lecture?”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment, “I snuck in. It sounded interesting.” You shrug slightly and reach for the drink from the bartender. “I almost didn’t show up, but then a classmate told me one of the FBI agents was very attractive.” You give a small wink before reaching for your check for your drinks from the night. “And she was right, Agent Prentiss is drop-dead gorgeous.” Your attempts to keep a poker face fail, your lips curling with delight.

Aaron laughs as he takes the check from your hands. “You don’t have to—” You protest slightly but Aaron holds up his hand to silence you.

“My treat. As a thank you, for breaking the rules to see my lecture.” He shares in your smile as he hands the bartender his card, paying for your drinks. Your ex just broke up with you a few weeks prior so you came out to cheer yourself up. Seeing Aaron Hotchner up close and personal is… definitely a pick me up.

“Do you have a business card or something?”

“Uh… yes.” Aaron is hesitant to hand it over but reaches into his wallet for one. You grab a pen and take the business card from Aaron. You scribble down your number on the back and hand it to him.

“This is my number.” You hold it out before reaching for your purse. He looks down at the number and then back up at you. For a grown, adult man, he doesn’t seem to understand. You can see confusion written all over his face, it’s quite adorable honestly. His face though it seemingly remains emotionless, in just the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him, you see hints of smiles hidden under a professional, powerful exterior.

“Call me sometime. You know, so I can pay you back for that drink.” You stand up from the bar, legs weak from the heavy drinking you’ve done, “Or if you just want some company.” He nods slightly in response and you turn to leave. You can’t help but turn for a second to watch as Aaron walks back to his table of what appear to be friends. One of the women looks back at you and smiles the most infectious, sweetest smile at you. You return it and move to leave the bar.

It wasn’t until late that night that you got a call. The drinking your sorrows away didn’t stop once you left that bar. You were curled up on your couch, a glass of wine clutched in your hands.

“Hello?” you mumble into the phone, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter.

“We didn’t really get to talk much at the bar, but I’m pretty sure you made some promises about paying me back for that drink,” A stern man’s voice cuts through the phone.

“Aaron?” you ask momentarily confused, “It—It’s late, are you drunk?”

Your laugh rings through the phone and it’s that laugh that has Aaron so intensely drawn to you. He can’t help himself. He needs to be near you, “Just go to the door.”

You stand up, “My door? How did you get my—oh right. FBI agent,” you muse and open your door. And there he is, standing at the door with the phone pressed to his ear. He pulls it away and hangs up. “This is incredibly creepy, I hope you know that.” You lean against the doorframe, pulling your large sweater around yourself tighter. His eyes run over you. You grin slightly, catching his wandering gaze, and at that, he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So about that drink you owe me.” Aaron takes a few hesitant steps into your apartment. He closes the door behind him, “How about you pay me back wit—” he starts to talk but you don’t let him finish his sentence. You grip his shirt and pull him close, your lips melting against his.

It’s messy and passionate and needy. You struggle to stumble along, guiding him towards your bedroom and his hands are touching every inch of you. He hurriedly pulls your sweater off and tosses it off to the side before unzipping your dress. You let it fall to the floor and kick it off as you match his frantic pace, pulling off his shirt and pushing down his jeans. He lays you down gently and reaches around to unclasp your bra.

“Holy fuck,” Aaron groans as he takes a second to take in your naked body.

Then he’s leaving a trail of soft kisses down the expanse of your chest and breasts. He travels down further. His lips brush against your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks up at you wickedly as he grips your thong in his teeth, pulling it down your legs. You already know your soaking wet pussy will give away just how bad you want him right now.

He doesn’t hesitate, he goes to work on you. Licking and stroking and rubbing your clit. Your back arches and you grip the sheets and his hair. You massage your breasts, panting heavily as two of his fingers press into you, his tongue flicking your overly sensitive bud of nerves. “Oh god, Aaron yes!”

His name rolls off your tongue and you continue to chant it like a fucking mantra as his somehow rough yet gentle touch drives you wild. You feel the knots building in your stomach. Your legs tremble with pleasure as your eyes shut harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re panting intensely at this point and the whole room practically slips away as your orgasm hits and your body feels out of control. Every nerve ending on fire. And Aaron is merciless, he continues to lick and tease as you ride out your high.

He can’t help but grin proudly at the number he’s done on you. As he comes up to plant a few more kisses on your lips, you feel his rock hard erection pressing against your thigh. You kiss him hungrily while fumbling to stroke him through his boxers.

The groan the emerges from his lips is… holy fucking shit it’s sexy. You flip the two of you over so you’re on top of him, your chest pressed against his. You dip your hand into his boxers, pumping the entirety of his length. You feel him getting harder and his cock twitches in conjunction with a loud, throaty groan. “Y/N." His eyes flutter open and he grabs your arm to still your motions. “I need you, now.”

Within seconds he’s peeling his boxers off, you roll the condom down onto him and you slam your hips down on his. You can’t contain the loud gasps and moans as you feel your walls stretch around him. Fuck it’s been too long since you’ve had sex. You’re still for a second and Aaron bucks his hips, needing friction, needing to thrust and feel your tightness around him.

“Oh god." Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head as Aaron takes an agonizing pace, lifting your hips all the way up just to slam them all the way back down again.

He has a vice grip on your hips and you can feel the bruises forming under his fingertips. You grind your hips against his as you ride him faster. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Hotch lets out another one of those agonizingly sexy groans.

“I’m close,” you whine out. Aaron reaches to rub your clit with his thumb as he starts thrusting his hips up to meet yours chaotically. That combined with his large cock hitting your sweet spot sends you tumbling over the edge once again. It’s not long after that you feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, his hips messily thrusting and his face contorted up in pleasure. His panting becomes rapid and it's not long before he’s coming undone inside you. You flip off of him to collapse at his side on the bed.

“So when are we doing this again?” you pant heavily and hear a beautiful sound beside you. The sound of Aaron laughing.

Sometimes you worry if he’s embarrassed by you. I mean, you’re a few years shy of 20 years younger than him. You’re still in school. He was starting college by the time you were out of diapers. He runs a whole goddamn unit of the FBI and you’re still a student. You both are in entirely separate places in life, how do you reconcile that? It’s not as if he keeps you secret. Jessica knows you and you met his son Jack one time. Besides, you’re not really showing him off either. Not that you have many people to show him off to.

Like said, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him which has just left you to sit around and overthink just about everything.

Aaron is working a case in DC. You saw the news reports the other day. Women were turning up dead in alleyways behind popular nightclubs and bars in the downtown area. Despite this horrifying news, you were happy when he told you the case was at home. It meant less travel. Less travel means Aaron is less tired. Which means more sex for you. And god, did you need sex.

It’s your friend’s 27th birthday and in an attempt to keep her from crying about getting a year older, you and a group of friends promised to go out drinking with her. You reach for your phone to check for any messages from Aaron. You would drop all your plans if he told you he was coming over tonight. There is one new message but it’s not exactly the text you were hoping for.

From: Aaron:

Please be safe for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere alone. Call me if there’s any trouble or if you need anything at all.”

You furrow your brows. It’s not news that Aaron cares about you and wants to look out for you but usually while on a case it’s radio silence from him. Yes, if you were really in danger he would want you to call immediately, but usually, he tells you he needs to focus on the job and nothing else. You dismiss the text, chalking it up to the presence of a serial killer in the city you both live in. Hell, you were pretty freaked out too. You had seen the girls on the news, 20-30, with your hair color and around your height.

You let out a long sigh, knowing you are most definitely not getting laid tonight. It’s time to get stupid drunk with your friends and enjoy your night anyway.

It does not take long for you and all your friends to reach the perfect level of sloppy drunk. Seeing as you all haven’t been out in months, what with some of you pursuing real jobs, grad school, med school, and whatnot, there hasn’t been a lot of time for screwing around as you did in college.

“So come on! You cannot still be single,” your close friend Sarah screams in your face over the music.

“It’s complicated,” you feel your words starting to string together. They’re not quite slurred but it’s getting there, “He just comes over, fucks my brains out, we spend some time together, and then it’s over.”

Your comments provoke a loud response of laughs and cheers from your friends, “So we don’t even get a name? Or a job? Or where you met him?”

“He guest lectured a course on abnormal and criminal psychology a few months ago,” You start to explain but Sarah is cutting you off before the words have left your mouth.

“Months? This has been going on for months?” You roll your eyes. The bartender places another full tray of shots in front of you guys. She nods towards a man at the edge of the bar. As you look up, he gives you a small wave and smiles. Creepy.

“No, I ran into him a few weeks after and I just gave him my number.” You down the shot, souring your face up before reaching for a lime wedge to chase it, “And then things just happened.”

“Name? Job? Age?” Another friend rattles off at you.

“Isn’t this Sarah’s birthday? Shouldn’t we be talking about her?” You try and steer the conversation away from yourself. You turn back to the bar and see that same man who sent you the shots staring at you. Even when you turn away you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Well I want to know, so this is a birthday present,” she continues to pry and it drives you crazy. You're just not ready to share what you and Aaron have with the world.

“His name is Aaron and he works in the FBI and he’s 45,” You mumble that last part into your glass as you take a long sip.

“He’s how old?” Your friend’s jaw drops and another friend grins widely. Your face is burning hot at embarrassment and all the attention.

“Can we all just shut up and drink?” you command forcefully before downing your own.

Hotch looks down at his phone, waiting for any sign that Y/N has seen his text. He doesn’t panic though. She has a life, she’s busy. She probably has plans for the evening. Maybe she’s out… with someone. Aaron shakes his head slightly before forcing his attention to the case. But his mind wanders. Would she go out with someone? It’s not like anything between them is defined. I mean, he would never go out with anyone else. He just wants her. If she wants to go out on a date she can do whatever she wants. Yet, Hotch can’t help but feel the jealousy coursing through his body. The idea of someone else touching her… yeah, that makes him angry.

His more rational thinking takes over. Maybe she’s busy with school work. He knows how hard she’s been working on her research. He fails to hide a smile as he thinks about the way her face lights up when talking about her research. The passion she has for her work is extremely adorable...

You hear three short raps at the door, “It’s open!” you call out as you rush to get all your thoughts down on your computer. You hear the door open and the footsteps approaching.

“You leave your door unlocked? Do you realize how incredibly unsafe and unwise that is?” You can hear that Aaron probably has his stern face on, judging by the disapproval in his voice.

“I knew you were coming,” You shrug and gnaw at your bottom lip furiously as you work, “I just need one moment. I was thinking that in a controlled quantum environment...” As you start to ramble Aaron’s hands snake around your waist. He pushes your hair to the side, placing feather-light kisses along your neck.

“Mm,” He mumbles against you.

“Wait, wait,” you moan, “If you keep doing that I’m going to lose my train of thought and I will never forgive you unless you can formulate how to create thermal distrib—” He nips at your skin and gives your hips a squeeze. Your groans grow louder.

“The physics can wait,” Aaron growls against your skin, turning you around so he can passionately kiss you, “I need you now.”

The panic doesn’t ease because Aaron reaches to call you once again. You don’t pick up because well… you’re a little preoccupied drowning your liver. He thinks, if you had just given a small ok text, he would know you’re safe. But he’s panicking. He continues to panic for the next hour until something unexpected soothes that anxiety. The sound of your screaming drunken voice radiating throughout the entirety of the precinct the team is working in. But as soon as the wave of anxiety dissipates, he feels his stomach drop.

“I’m a victim here!” you screech and cement your legs in place so that the officers holding your arms are practically dragging you.

“Ma’am please!” You kick your legs violently as the officers try to seat you in a chair. They undo your handcuffs and redo them so that your hand is cuffed to the desk. “We’re understaffed and backed up so you sit here and shut up while we get you booked.”

“He was feeling me up! Under the skirt over the panties. He grabbed my ass, I’m sure I have a mark you wanna see it? He assaulted me!” you continue to screech and reach for the hem of your dress, ready to flash every cop in the precinct your ass.

“So you smashed a bottle over his head? Real ladylike,” one of the officers steps forward and holds your hand tight to keep you from lifting the dress.

“Don’t I get a phone call.” Now your words are slurred together. That last round of shots before you got arrested is hitting you hard.

“Once we book you.”

“I know a federal agent. From the FBI,” you spell out the letters obnoxiously, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Yes, I’m sure the federal government will come running to post your bail. Stay here. Don’t move,” the officer commands and you hold up your handcuffed wrist to demonstrate that you’re quite frankly incapable of going anywhere.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss lets out a small laugh from the conference room. “I can hear her through the closed doors.”

“Well, most of this room is glass and sound travels through the glass just about the same as it does air. A better insulating material would be a foam or fiberglass or even a mineral wood composite,” Reid clarifies before giving that signature tight-lipped smile.

“She is… really something,” Morgan laughs and nudges Hotch, “Hotch look.”

Hotch turns and sees what he’s dreading. He sees you, drunk out of your mind. Your skimpy dress is somehow simultaneously riding low on top and riding up on the bottom. You have a small cut lip and a little bit of blood on your dress. His brows furrow deeply. “Oh god,” he mutters under his breath.

“These cops are supposed to stay in the bars and clubs for protection. Why are they wasting time on drunk girls?” Rossi finally chimes in.

The cops finally get you settled into a chair and you kick your feet like a child. “Call the FBI! I know them.”

“Oh does she now. You guys know her?” JJ rolls her eyes and laughs, “I am so glad I never got arrested when I was in college. My parents would’ve killed me.”

“College? Girls do not look like that in college,” Morgan smirks.

“We have to focus on the case,” Hotch's jaw tightens as he sees Morgan look over your body. It’s not something new for Morgan but when he’s making those eyes at you specifically, Hotch feels that surge of jealousy again.

“Call them! Call Agent Aaron Hotchner.” You lean back and try to cross your arms, but your right hand is yanked back by the cuffs.

The team all turns to Hotch with wide eyes. “You know her?” Rossi smirks.

“Where exactly do you know her from?” Emily fights the grin growing on her lips as she looks over her stone-faced boss.

“I’m sorry what?” The cop glances down at you.

“Aaron Hotchner with the Behavioral Unit Analysis Science thing or something like that he’s in the FBI he’s unit chief. I know him.” You roll your eyes at the cop who is speechless, “Oh god. Are you that thick? A-A-R-O-N H-O-T-C-H…” you trail off the alcohol inhibiting your spelling capabilities, “N-E-R. Aaron Hotchner! Call him and he’ll tell you to let me go.”.

The cop glances at some of his coworkers before looking at the conference room. You follow his gaze and see Aaron with a large group of other well-dressed agents. “Oh fuck,” you mutter. Aaron opens the glass doors and steps out of them walking towards you.

“So how does he know this girl?” Prentiss tries her best to hide her spying on you and Aaron.

“I got money on babysitter,” Morgan nods.

“No way, she’d be with Jack right now. I’d say she met him at work." JJ leans against the desk, watching Hotch as he looks down at you, crossing his arms.

“Then we’d all have seen her before. Plus she wouldn’t be telling them she knows the FBI. She would technically be part of the FBI. Why not use that?” Rossi rubs a hand over his goatee.

“He’s sleeping with her,” Reid states simply before turning back to his geographical profile on the board.

“What?” Multiple members of the team turn in shock, not only at the statement but at the fact that Reid is the one making it.

“No way. She’s… at most 27 years old.” Morgan shakes his head, “She is not Hotch’s type.”

“Are you jealous that Hotch has more game than you?” Reid teases without turning away from his work.

“When was your last date, pretty boy? Huh?” Morgan hits him on the back of the head playfully.

“Officer.” Aaron steps in between you and the officer. Good thing, because two more minutes with that guy and you would be charged with a lot more than resisting arrest and public disturbance.

“Aaron!” you squeak, “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Well, she’s definitely not a coworker. She called him Aaron.” Rossi nods at the rest of the team still in the conference room. For a team of profilers, their attempts to hide the spying are weak at best.

“I’ll take care of her.” He doesn’t bother looking at you, but he gives the officer his best unit-chief glare.

“Sir we have a process to go through here. We’re still processing her arrest,” the officer attempts to argue with Hotch but you can see the discomfort clearly in the officer. He struggles to meet Hotch’s eyes.

“Please officer, we have much more to deal with here. I want to find this guy before another body drops. We need you out there patrolling the bars for the guys, not the drunk girls the creeps hit on.” Aaron takes on a stern voice.

“Yes agent.” The cop is visibly annoyed but isn’t willing to get into a fight with a federal agent all over your stupid drunk ass.

“Are you injured? You’re bleeding.” He grabs your chin in his calloused fingers, turning your face from side to side to assess the small cuts. You almost moan into his touch but remember the current location.

“No, no it’s someone else’s.” You turn out of his grip, trying to push his hands off.

“Someone else’s? What did you do?” Fuck. Aaron is furious with you. His arms are crossed against his chest and you can see the veins in his neck standing out. The tone he takes with you is harsh and you’re not used to him speaking with you like that… at least not used to it outside the bedroom.

“It’s not my fault okay!”

Aaron holds the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “Y/N. I have a serial killer to profile, catch, and stop from murdering innocent women. Can I just get the truth?”

“This creepy guy kept sending me and my friends drinks all night so when I went to the bar to get us another round he came over. Things got messy.” You shrug your shoulders. “Can you take off these cuffs now?” You hold out your wrists, pouting out your bottom lip. You can physically see him soften at that.

As Aaron reaches for the key and undoes the cuffs, he shakes his head at the stench of alcohol seeping out of you, “You’re gonna have to do better than things got messy.”

“I just…” You pause, knowing the details of the story are going to make him upset but he wants the truth, “I knew he was a little off. Weird and creepy and pushy, you know?” You rub your irritated wrists, “So he starts talking to me, offering me some drink. I know better than to accept a drink from a stranger so I turned him down. That's when he grabbed my arm and well… tried to cop a feel.”

“Cop a feel?” Aaron’s jaw has tightened and his hands are clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are pale.

“He slid his hands under my dress.” Your hand ghosts over the sore spot on your bottom where the man dug his fingers into your flesh, “He grabbed my legs and then my ass and then… and then he tried to get his hands in my underwear.” You show Aaron the red marks on your inner thigh. You’re not sure what you expect from him, but his face remains hardened. The only emotion readable on him is anger.

“The blood is from self-defense,” Aaron begins to understand.

You nod, confirming his statement, “I grabbed the first thing I could and smashed him on the head. I think I sliced his eyebrow. By the time the cops came, he was gone and I was in cuffs.”

Aaron looks back at his team in the conference room. In a poor attempt to hide their spying, they all rapidly turn their eyes to their work. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes looking over the red bruising on your cheek. He fights every urge to reach out and touch you, stroke your face softly and kiss your lips, “Did he hurt you? We should get a medic to check you out or–”

He doesn’t have a second to finish that thought. “Hotch, another body just dropped,” Morgan and Prentiss come rushing out of the conference room, “We’re going to the crime scene now.”

Aaron nods at his team members, “Call me if anything stands out.” The team nods and Aaron reaches for your arm, walking you towards the rest of the team, “I don’t want you alone right now. You’re going to sit here and keep quiet, understand?”

You bite your lip and look around at the team, still pretending as if they’re not listening in, “Jeez way to embarrass me, Aaron,” you mumble under your breath as you drop down into a chair with a loud sigh like a child.

JJ can’t help but come over to talk to you, “I’m Jennifer." You give her your name, "It's so nice to meet you Y/N, how do you and Hotch know each other?”

“Hotch?” you let out before quickly realizing the nickname for Aaron. You shake her hand, “Oh Agent Hotchner and I are just fuc–“

“Friends,” Aaron cuts in, “Y/N and I are friends. We have a case to get back to,” Aaron frantically changes the topic of conversation but your little comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the team members. Even Reid is smiling slightly at your comment.

You sit back in your chair and take in the sight of Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. The confident and commanding energy he exudes is immensely attractive. It’s not long before the agents that left for the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss return with news for Aaron.

“Sir we found something weird at the crime scene,” Morgan steps back into the room.

“Weird?” Hotch cocks his head slightly to the side.

“There were droplets of blood over the victim’s dress but it wasn’t her own,” Morgan shakes his head.

“But you called and said she had no defensive wounds, he drugged her like the others. How could he have been injured?” Hotch turns back to the other case files.

“We’re not sure,” Emily shakes her head, “It’s possible it’s unrelated but maybe he might have been hospitalized for something recently?”

“What about any witnesses?” Hotch nods, “Any people at Churchkey bar see anything unusual? A man that was a little too forceful with women?”

You snort slightly at that, “I wouldn’t say that’s unusual for a bar.”

Hotch shoots you a hard glare that shuts you up for good, while Prentiss lets a smile shine through.

“The bar was mostly cleared out. Apparently the bar was packed earlier tonight but it cleared out after a bar fight broke out.” Morgan informs the team.

You bite your lip harshly. Aaron told you no talking but… this is more important, right? “Wait, Churchkey bar?” You finally speak up and all the agents turn their attention to you.

“What about it?”

“That’s the bar I was at tonight.” You trail off at the end of your sentence.

“You remember someone or something off?” Rossi looks over your body language.

“I think I talked to the unsub. I think... I’m the one who injured him." You unconsciously wrap your arms tightly around your body.

“You think you could walk me through the night? Tell me about him, it could really help us,” Morgan moves to sit on the edge of the desk to face you. "We could do a cognitive interview." He nods at Hotch.

"A cognitive?" You look between the two men.

"It's a memory recall exercise. We would walk you through the night and you tell us as much as you can," Morgan explains gently.

"And it could help you find him?" You ask, unsure how much you remember about him.

"You might not realize the type of details that help us form the profile." Morgan places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Aaron clears his throat. “She’s not sober enough for a cognitive." You can tell that the fact that his personal life is bleeding into his work is driving him crazy.

“If I can help catch this creep, I want to help. I’m fine.” You touch your finger to your nose a few times in an attempt to demonstrate your sobriety.

“Then you should drink some coffee before we start,” Aaron dismissively addresses you before turning to leave, “And I’m going to want the whole truth.” He stalks off towards the interrogation room.

Rossi runs to catch up with Aaron, pulling him off to the side. “Aaron, you cannot conduct this cognitive.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron snaps, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Take a step back, pretend she’s not someone you clearly care about,” Aaron rolls his eyes at Rossi’s comment but plays along as he continues.

“She’s a young girl… just how young is she?” Rossi raises a brow at Aaron, losing his train of thought.

“Dave.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Rossi holds his hands up in defense, “Fine, okay. She’s a young girl, she’s a little drunk, and she’s been sexually harassed in a bar by our unsub. Who do you send in to talk to her?”

“The least intimidating figures to her,” Aaron nods.

“So definitely not the angry boyfriend who wants to kill anyone who touches her,” Rossi clarifies.

“I’ll send in JJ and Prentiss,” Hotch sighs and turns before pausing, “And I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rossi simply smiles and pats Aaron’s back, “Ok boss.”

You sit up in your chair tiredly as Emily and JJ walk into the interrogation room.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Agent Prentiss and you’ve already met Agent Jareau,” Emily sits across from you.

“He can hear us, right?” You bite your lip and look towards the glass.

“Who can hear us?” JJ takes a seat and places a file in front of you.

“Aaron.” You search the glass, knowing that you won’t be able to see him but that he definitely can see you.

“Oh uh-” Emily pauses, unsure what to say in response.

“Do you want more privacy? I can ask the agents to leave.” JJ starts to stand.

“Hearing this would help them figure who the killer is?” You’re gnawing your lip hard enough to draw blood, a nervous habit Aaron never hesitates to point out to you.

“Yes,” JJ sits back down.

“Then it’s fine.” You look over one last time, “Just make sure Aar— Agent Hotchner,” you correct yourself, “Make sure Agent Hotchner doesn’t lose his shit.”

“No promises,” Prentiss smirks and lets out a small breath, “We’re going to walk you through the night. If it gets to be too much you let us know and we’ll take a break, okay?”

Well, now you’re really nervous. You let out a small breath, “Okay.” You close your eyes as Agent Prentiss starts.

“You’re in the bar. It’s crowded…”

“Y/N I think he really likes you,” your friend Sarah laughs. “Come on go talk to him.”

“No, I really shouldn’t.” You feel dizzy and light on your feet from the alcohol the man has been plying you and your friends with.

“Why?” Another friend chimes in, “Big strong Agent Hotchner going to punish you for talking to another guy?” Your friends taunt you playfully.

You smile widely at them, “Yes, yes he will.”

“You naughty, naughty girl!” Sarah laughs. You feel eyes on you and look back to the man at the bar. He’s hunched over in his stool. He looks nervous, but he smiles sheepishly at you and waves. It’s not long before he’s calling the bartender over again and pointing at you animatedly.

“Next round is on me,��� you say softly to your friends, keeping your eyes on the man’s face, memorizing every detail you can. His face is young but worn and tired. The wrinkles on his forehead tell you he frowns a lot. They’re lines that appear on Aaron’s face too. You think about how you tease Aaron about smiling more. God, you miss Aaron right now. You wish he was here to make you feel safe. As you walk up to the bar, your presence causes the man to stand up and move closer.

“I was going to order you and your friends more drinks. I ordered you a vodka soda. It’s what you’ve been drinking all night, right?” He stutters slightly as he talks to you. He slides a glass over to you, but you know better. Strange man... drink that you didn’t see the bartender actually make... no way.

“I was actually going to order a beer,” you try to reject the glass, “You take the vodka soda though. You’ll see why they’ve been my go-to all night. He’s been making them very strong.” You look at the bartender, ordering a beer. You pray that the young bartender senses your discomfort.

“Come on it’s a harmless drink.” The strange man moves into you, pushing the glass closer. “You have the drink, we’ll get to know each other better… you’ll like it. I can make you like it.”

Thinking about his words sends chills down your spine. You have to take a moment to let out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to continue listening to this?” Rossi eyes Hotch. Hotch’s face is contorted so harshly into a mixture of anger, disgust, and sadness. His neck muscles tense, his arms are tightly crossed against his body. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rossi.

“Can you keep going?” JJ eyes your face. You nod.

“No thank you, and no more drinks for my friends and I. We can get our own drinks.” You turn to grab your beer but soon the man stops you. He grabs your wrist tightly, placing his other hand behind your back. He pulls you flush against him. His rough, calloused fingertips grab and scratch up your thighs, under the dress. He grabs your ass so hard you want to scream out. He continues to trail his fingers up, hooking around your panties and—

A sickening shattering noise and cracking erupt as you swing the beer bottle at his head. The man screams. “You bitch!” He slaps your face. You stumble back, falling on the floor, cutting your hands on the broken glass from the bottle. Your skin is sticky with alcohol and you glance down at the blood on your dress. The bar grows louder. The commotion intensifies. You feel a friend’s hands wrap around your arms pulling you up off the ground.

“Wait he—!” You look around for the man but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Not long after that I was being shoved into a cop car and escorted here.” You finally open your eyes and look at the two agents.

“I can make you like it?” Emily asks you to clarify. She speaks slowly clearly enunciating her words but you can hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what he said.” You wrap your arms around yourself, “Does that all help?”

“Yes, yes it does,” JJ reaches out to touch your hand gently. Your eyes flick back to the one-way glass. You can’t see Aaron but you can tell he’s probably fuming. He probably has that signature scowl on his face.

“Am I—” You clear your throat and try to adjust your dress for more modesty, “Can I go?” Prentiss gives you a sad, pity-filled smile and nods. You stand up quickly and exit the room in a rush, colliding with Aaron’s strong chest as you do. You look up into his eyes and you see something in his face you’ve never seen in all the times you've been with him: sadness. You bury your face into his chest and his arms wrap tightly around you. “I was scared,” You choke out as his large, warm hands rub circles into your back, “I needed you.” You ball up his shirt in your fists. You’re not one to cry easily, but your body shakes as you breathe heavily.

“I know,” his voice cracks as he rests his chin on top of your head. He runs one hand over your hair softly, shushing you gently, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You pull away from his chest and frantically pull his lips down to yours. A strong hand goes to your back, holding you close to him. You hear the interrogation room door open behind you, the two agents stepping out, but neither you nor Aaron break the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Aaron breathes against your lips, pulling you back into a tight hug. “You’re safe here with me now.”

———

You lift the heavy metal knocker and let it slam down twice, waiting for the door to open. When it does, Rossi envelops you in his arms, a wide smile spreading across his lips. He grabs your face tightly, kissing each cheek joyfully. “Bellissimo! I’m so glad you could make it.” Rossi places a gentle hand on your back and leads you inside.

You walk into the crowded kitchen and the members of the BAU all turn and smile back at you. Aaron moves towards you and quickly gives you a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m so happy you’re here." 

“I’m so glad you’re finally home.” You pull away from Aaron to make the rounds hugging the people who are like family to you at this point.

Morgan wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder and can’t help but tease Aaron, “Hotch, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your girl?” He turns to smile at you while Aaron shakes his head.

“I had to stop by the research lab so I just had my classmate Tyler drop me off after we finished up." You shrug.

“Tyler, huh?” Rossi grins, hoping to rile up Aaron a little.

“Is he cute?” JJ chimes in with a laugh.

Aaron quickly clears his throat, hoping to change topics. He raises his brows at you, “So do you want to share the news or should I do it for you?”

“Oh my god, you’re totally preggers!” Garcia squeals and runs to hug you again. You glance at Aaron and can only laugh.

“No, no.” You smile as she pulls away and you look at the shocked faces of everyone in the kitchen, even Aaron looks a little rattled. You playfully nudge his arm, “See what you did? Always causing trouble.”

“Me? If I recall correctly you’re the one who got arrested for being drunk off your ass and trying to fight a serial killer.” His comment elicits a series of small laughs from everyone.

"Yeah and it helped you catch him, so really you all should thank me for being drunk." You playfully argue with Aaron. "Anyway, the actual news. No, I'm not pregnant." You point at Penelope as she opens her mouth to say something else. 

“You’re looking at the proud new owner of a Ph.D. in physics!” You do a small cheesy spin as the rest of the team congratulates you, “Handed in my final thesis paper today.” Aaron smiles proudly as you move back to his side.

“Yeah that’s great and all but you’re still two Ph.D.s behind me.” Spencer can’t help but tease you. In the past year, he’s become one of your closest friends, especially since Aaron can’t even seem to begin to understand your thesis research.

“All right cool it kid.” You joke with him.

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Spencer laughs. Aaron comes closer to wrap his arm around your waist. The gesture is comforting and just this touch sends waves of pleasure through your body.

“Reid might have two more Ph.D.s than you but he’s got nothing on your good looks.” Prentiss winks at you.

“She’s got that right,” Aaron smirks as he kisses your cheek gently.

“Ok, ok, enough small talk.” You feel your face flush, “I came here to learn some cooking from chef Rossi, not talk about how hot I am.” You see Aaron roll his eyes with a smile and you pull him close as Rossi starts the demonstration.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Aaron has his arms wrapped around you from behind. He speaks softly so only you can hear.

“I know,” You smile, happiness flooding through your body, “I love you too.”

[heejinnien]

bts | roses chapter one

word count: 3.9k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: this chapter takes place one month before the events of the prologue, and the prologue isn’t necessary to understand it. this chapter was originally 2k words before i did a deep edit. the “terms used throughout this fic” section of the masterlist was updated to include terms in this chapter. if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

“Y/N! How have you been?”

The elevator doors open with a ding, revealing your best friend and coworker, Jungkook. He gives you a hug, squeezing you tightly. “I missed you so much, how was Busan?”

“It was great, Kook, thanks for asking.” Your lips quirk upwards as you smile at your best friend. “I’m ready to be back, though.”

“I’m ready for you to be back, too, Jimin has been insufferable with you gone. He keeps stealing my banana milk,” Jungkook whines, and you laugh, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Well, did you steal his jam? Again?”

Jungkook coughs, suddenly taking interest in the floor’s pattern, and you laugh. “I haven’t been gone that long and you’ve already managed to get yourself into trouble.”

“He started it — ”

“Y/N, Jungkook.”

Jungkook immediately ceases his accusation, and you both turn at the familiar sound of your team’s leader’s voice. Namjoon walks down the hallway towards you, air full of authority and pristine shoes echoing against the tile floor, giving you a nod in recognition. You recognize the grim set of his mouth and already know what he’s going to say.

“I’m sorry to cut the reunion short, but we have a case,” he says.

Silently, you and Jungkook follow your team’s leader to the briefing room. The rest of your team is already there — Hoseok gives you a friendly wave, Seokjin blows you a kiss, Jimin nods in your direction, Taehyung smiles, and Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he’ll fall asleep at any moment. As you and Jungkook take your seats, Namjoon turns and powers on the TV screen mounted in the room, pulling up an array of photographs. Three unfamiliar faces are positioned at the top of the screen, and photographs of the crime scene and what you assume are their bodies are displayed below.

“This is Soojin, Miyeon, and Soodam. Over the past month, Incheon police have been finding their bodies scattered in alleys cutting through the city. Soodam is the most recent victim and was found this morning, and that’s when the police contacted us. Yoongi has sent further details about the crime scenes to your tablets.”

You reach down for your bag, pulling out a thin, black device. Around you, your teammates do the same, and you power the device on, quickly bypassing the standard security protocol and pulling up the recent photographs. Instantly, the photographs of the crime scene make you reel back in a mixture of surprise and disgust. Although you are by now a decorated agent, the sheer brutality of each murder catches you off guard.

Stab wounds and lacerations cover each victim. Blood mats each victim’s skin, making their features almost unrecognizable, and a jagged, gaping incision at the neck immediately draws your attention. Each victim’s skin is ashy and waxen, and copious amounts of blood are spattered throughout each crime scene. Beside you, Yoongi, never one for gore, looks as sick as you feel.

“The coroner said that the cause of death for each victim was exsanguination,” Jimin says, reading the forensic report off his tablet. You quickly switch to that file, scanning through the official document.

“This definitely looks like overkill,” Jungkook adds, and his face is so calm and composed it is as if you are discussing the appearance of a floral arrangement. Looking around the table, the rest of your teammates’ faces are also indifferent. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve seen as much as you have, but the sheer brutality of this crime still makes you uneasy.

“It says the unsub has been leaving behind white roses at each crime site,” Jin, passively swiping through the crime scene photographs. “They look staged, each victim was posed so that they’re holding the rose.”

“White roses typically symbolize innocence and purity, while red ones symbolize love.” Taehyung ruminates. “Maybe the killer is trying to make some sort of point about his victims?”

“Like they’re cheaters?” You suggest. “This could have a double meaning, maybe he sees them as tainted or impure.”

“Whatever it is, it’s clear he has a preference.” Hoseok waves his hand idly. “Each of the victims had black hair and brown eyes.”

Namjoon nods at each member’s point, face thoughtful. “When we get there, we should break up into smaller units and examine each part of the profile. Y/N and Jungkook, head to the crime scene. The leading detective on the case will meet you there, see if he can tell you anything else. Taehyung, begin a geological profile, Hoseok and Jimin begin the unsub’s profile, and Jin and I will begin victimology. Yoongi, start checking into each victim’s lives, we need to see if they had any overlap or somehow knew each other at all.”

You and your teammates nod at your assignments, standing and gathering your things. Yoongi gives everyone a lazy smile before slipping out the door, heading back to his computer lab.

Namjoon continues. “The unsub will strike again soon so the Incheon police need us down there now. It’s a half-hour drive down there, so wheels up in twenty minutes.”

“Detective Jaehyun.”

You and Jungkook slam the doors of your car shut, gravel crunching underfoot as you greet the Incheon police’s head detective. You give him a courteous smile, you and Jungkook both giving his hand a quick, firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, although I wish I could say it was under better circumstances.” You jerk your head in the direction of the alley. “What can you tell us about this victim?”

“Agent Y/N, Agent Jungkook.” Jaehyun nods at both of you before waving an arm in the direction of the crime scene. “A random passerby stumbled upon the body this morning.”

“What were they doing in this alley? It’s pretty remote,” Jungkook asks, boredly appraising the empty lot around you that the alley leads from. “You said they were coming from this direction, too, right?”

“The other end opens up along a busy shopping street, and if traffic is busy sometimes people will park here and use the alley to get there.”

“Are there any cameras?”

“Here? Unfortunately not.” Jaehyun’s face is grim. “We’ve been asking the city for months to get them repaired, but with everything happening an old parking lot isn’t on their priority list. They would rather keep making the main city look more modern and impressive because that’s where all the tourists go.”

You hum, noncommittal. You step in the direction of the alley, soaking in every detail of the scene. Although you saw photographs of it, you still don’t ever think you could ever be truly ready for the gravity of it to sink upon you.

Blood coats the walls like a mural, pools on the ground like a shimmering mirror. The blood staining the concrete and brick is dark, while the liquid pooled on the ground still appears bright, fresh.

“This is a lot of blood.” You observe dryly.

“Yes, well,” Jaehyun purses his lips. “Recent lab results show that most of the blood doesn’t actually belong to the victim.”

You pause, head snapping up to look at the detective. “That wasn’t in the report.”

Jaehyun swallows dryly. “We didn’t think to check for it in our first few victims.”

“Did you not run toxicology on them?” Jungkook asks, voice hard, and if possible Jaehyun looks nervous.

“We didn’t think to; the cause of death was obvious.”

Jungkook exhales, closing his eyes for one beat, two, and then opens them, fixing Jaehyun with a look that could send him two feet under. “The report you gave us said that there was a one week window between when each of the victim’s was reported missing and when they were found. That means they were most likely kidnapped and subdued during that time. There are abrasion marks on their wrists and ankles from when they were held captive, but no blunt force trauma to the head, which rules out the unsub launching a surprise attack on them when capturing them. Did you not think to investigate how they were taken?”

Jaehyun stutters, unintelligible, and Jungkook scoffs. Glancing at Jungkook, you speak to the detective, voice soft.

“It doesn’t matter now. What kind of additional blood was found?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flicker between you and Jungkook, and he swallows hard. “We aren't sure, but the coroner narrowed it down to animal’s blood. He thinks it might be lambs.”

You silently exchange glances with Jungkook, recognizing the familiar furrow of his brows that signals he’s deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, the killer definitely knew their way around the streets here,” Jungkook theorizes. “The use of lamb’s blood was probably to add to the terror of whoever finds the body.”

You nod in agreement. “This is a city, so there aren’t many farms or areas to house animals here. So if the animals aren’t alive, then they’re probably dead and the next likely answer would be a butcher. We should ask Yoongi to see if any butchers or any businesses who deal with animals, alive or dead, reported anything suspicious.”

Jungkook nods and steps out of the alley, pulling out his phone. You watch him go for a moment before refocusing your attention on the alley.

“Um, Agent Y/N.”

Jaehyun shifts from foot to foot beside you, looking as though he’ll vomit. When he speaks again, it’s as if the words pain him. “There’s something else we didn’t mention.”

You allow a beat of silence to pass before raising an eyebrow, waiting for Jaehyun to continue. He clears his throat, once, twice, before continuing.

“We found a note next to the latest victim, along with the rose.” Jaehyun wordlessly pulls out his phone, seeming to struggle under your scrutinizing gaze as he searches for something before he holds the device out to you.

Displayed on it is a picture of the bloody rose that you had seen in official crime scene photos, a pair of hands wrapped around the stem. You recognize the photograph from the report sent to you, and you open your mouth to ask Jaehyun about it when you spot a small piece of cream-coloured stock, poking out of the hand.

Your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun. “Why didn’t you include this?”

Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you know much about us, but we’re a small force policing a huge city. If word of this got out, there would be panic — much more than there already is.”

“Lives are at stake here, Detective,” you say, voice firm but not unkindly. “You can’t play around with that.”

“I know,” Jaehyun says quickly, before sighing. “Listen, Agent. Both of our jobs are to keep the people safe. You may not agree with me or my decision, but this was the right call.”

You stare at Jaehyun wordlessly, scanning Jaehyun’s face to see if you can detect anything that will tell you what to say next when you hear a crunch of gravel and look to see your best friend approach. He scarcely saves Jaehyun a glance, focusing instead on you.

“Namjoon wants us back at the station,” he says. “The rest of the team is going to share their profiles with us.”

You nod, glancing at Jaehyun briefly before heading in the direction of your car. As you turn, you spot Jungkook staring at Jaehyun, expression unreadable, and then they are both out of your sight. You open the car door, sliding into the SUV’s passenger seat and waiting as Jungkook walks around the front of the vehicle, slipping into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t trust him,” he says simply, staring out the dash as you fasten your seatbelt and he starts the car.

“Jaehyun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, humming as he pulls out of the parking lot. The tune is eerily beautiful, and it sends chills down your spine as Jungkook pulls onto the main avenue.

“That tune is beautiful,” you confess.

From his profile, you see Jungkook smile boyishly. “Thanks, I picked it up from Jimin while you were gone.”

“What song is it?”

Jungkook’s smile vanishes. “I don’t know, he never told me.”

For some reason, an uneasy air settles over the car. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out if it’s something you said, when Jungkook laughs and the tension dissipates.

“Do you remember that time you got a pair of chopsticks stuck up your nose?”

You let out a string of expletives as Jungkook laughs, the sound light and cheery, and Jungkook’s suspicious behavior is pushed to the back of your mind, already forgotten, as you two trade sarcastic comments.

With the conversation flowing smoothly, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the Incheon police station. You quickly hop out of the car, a sharp wind that wasn’t present earlier biting at your exposed flesh. A shiver wracks its way down your spine as you hurry to the station’s entrance, pushing open the doors, Jungkook close behind you.

Inside, Taehyung is the first to greet you, standing near a desk and flashing you a smile as he jerks his head in the direction of the back of the station. “Namjoon and the rest are in the back, I’m just picking up some files from the detectives here.”

Jungkook nods, heading in the direction Taehyung indicated and you move to follow him when Taehyung’s hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, grip gentle but firm.

“I need to talk to you.”

He glances over his shoulder and then tugs you after him, scarcely giving you time to follow his words and react.

“What is it, Taehyung?” You ask as he drags you down an empty hallway. He stays quiet, stopping outside of a door labelled “break room” and pushing it open. It’s deserted, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you, and Taehyung turns to you, expression is inscrutable.

He opens his mouth, speaking so quickly in a low, furtive tone you strain to follow along with what he says. “I was doing some research into each of the victims. Before she went missing, Soojin had red hair, and Miyeon had brown. I couldn’t find anything on Soodam, but…”

“You’re assuming her hair was dyed, too?” You presume.

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you telling the rest of the team this?” You grab Taehyung’s wrist gently. “And I thought you were doing the geological profile.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask gently, recognizing the fervent, determined glint in Taehyung’s eyes.

“I am, I mean, I was. I was going to, I just…” Taehyung groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I was, but something about the victims was nagging me so I called Yoongi to see what he had.”

Taehyung fixes you with an unimpressed look. “You know why, Y/N. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it earlier.”

You swallow, remaining pointedly silent. You had thought about the similarities between you and the victims earlier, but had pushed it aside as your paranoia, a hazard of your occupation.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” Taehyung pleads, voice soft.

“I will be,” you promise. “We’ll catch this guy, don’t worry.”

Taehyung smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you can’t erase the sinking feeling in your gut.

“Detective Jaehyun, I just saw you a few hours ago.”

You release a pair of gloves, feeling the latex snap against your skin and give the Incheon detective a wry smile, flashes of blue and red lights illuminating his face. You and Jimin stand at the entrance of another alley, the lights of the police cars responding to the scene and flashlights from the other officers providing you your only source of luminance. “Who’s the latest victim?”

“Kim Jisoo,” Jaehyun says, holding up the police tape for you to enter the crime scene. You do so, Jimin following close behind you. “She was found by Kim Jennie, her roommate. She said she had just seen Jisoo this morning, and they often cut through this alley to get back to their apartment.”

You crouch by Jisoo’s body, nose wrinkling at the combination of death and copper that pervades your nostrils. Out of the corner of your eye you see Jimin cringe at the sight, and you can’t help but agree. Somehow, it looks more visceral, more horrifying in person.

Like the other victims, multiple stab wounds litter Jisoo’s body. Blood matts her hair and clothing, and a gaping, visceral hole is torn in her neck. Her hands are positioned so that they are resting on her stomach, a single rose clutched in between them. Your eyes seek out any hints of cream, but you find none and your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun.

He opens his mouth, hesitating. Ultimately he decides against whatever he was going to say next, staring at you wide eyed, and you gather the meaning perfectly well. There was also another note. You purse your lips, annoyance rippling through you.

Jimin reaches for the flower, gently tugging it from Jisoo’s grasp. “The flower is freshly cut,” he says, prodding carefully at one of the petals. “I’ll have the lab run the blood who or what it belongs to.”

“Most of the wounds on her body aren’t as deep as the previous victim’s.” You gesture to the victims’ body. “Maybe because she wasn’t kept as long as the others and the unsub couldn’t take his time.”

“That means the unsub is speeding up his attacks and most likely devolving,” Jimin says grimly.

“I’m willing to bet the victim was killed in this alley, the time frame was too short for the unsub to abduct her, transport her to wherever he kept the other victims, and dump the body.” You chew on your lip in thought. “Detective, are there any cameras nearby?”

“There are cameras positioned on the main street, but with the way they’re positioned none of them capture the alley’s entrance,” Jaehyun responds, grimacing.

“How many alleys aren’t covered by camera surveillance?” Jimin asks, handing the rose to a nearby officer to place in an evidence bag and standing, peeling off his gloves.

“I don’t know for sure, but I would say about fifty or so.”

Jimin swears, and Jaehyun flinches at the sound. “That’s fifty places the unsub could be heading next. This city is ripe with potential victims, too.”

“We should head back and let the rest of the team know,” you suggest to Jimin. He nods, and together you walk out of the alley. You pause by the entrance. “I’m going to get a ride back with Detective Jaehyun, there’s something I need to talk to him about.”

Jimin nods, unquestioning, and slips silently into the car. You stand, watching him drive away before turning to the detective. His appearance is ashen in the light, and you give him a dry smile.

“Well, Detective? Shall we?”

He nods stiffly, slipping into the police cruiser. You slide into the passenger seat as Jaehyun turns the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life beneath you.

You waste no time, and as Jaehyun backs the car out you ask, “What did the notes say?”

“Agent Y/N — ”

“Listen,” you say forcefully, cutting the Incheon detective off. “I don’t agree with your reasoning, but I’m not going to fight you on it. But I need to know what those notes say.”

Jaehyun is silent. Finally, he sighs, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and, briefly pressing his finger against it, tossing you his phone with the other. “It’s in the gallery.”

You pull up the app, ready to chastise Jaehyun about why he has official evidence from a crime scene on his personal phone when you spot them.

It’s a basic photo, the cream paper the focus of the frame and resting on a desk, words typed on it in black ink. You swipe through them, quickly scanning the paper’s contents until you reach the most recent one. This photograph is different, blurry and dark, and you can tell it was taken at the crime scene you left moments ago.

“Do you see why I kept them hidden?” Jaehyun asks when you wordlessly hand his phone back to him.

“Let’s just say,” you begin, pausing to consider your words. “For your sake, I hope that your actions aren’t to blame for anymore deaths, Detective.”

You sit cross-legged on your hotel bed, idly scanning through case files and eating a carton of take-out jjangmyeon. Even though Incheon is not far from your residence in Seoul, Namjoon had still decided that the team would stay in a local hotel; in case anything happens, you can respond quickly.

Taehyung had shared his discovery about the victim’s hair with the team earlier, and you would have been blind to notice the glances that flickered between your teammates and the photographs of the victims and yourself. Luckily, Namjoon had chosen not to comment on it, instead instructing you all to focus on the results of your team’s earlier profiling.

Hoseok and Jimin reported their profile of the unsub (“upper twenties to early thirties, male”). Jin reported that he hadn’t found any overlap between the victims’ lives, and you and Jungkook reported what Jaehyun had told you about the animal blood. You had chewed on your lip earlier, unsure whether or not to tell your leader about the notes. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, that’s when Namjoon had received the call about the latest body, sending you and Jimin to check out the crime scene before you could say anything.

You pick up a photograph of Kim Jisoo, your latest victim. It is a recent picture of her and a group of her friends, given to the police by her roommate to help with the positive ID. In the picture, both are wearing a pleated uniform and holding up diplomas. Your heart wrenches as you realize that she was a recent college graduate and now will never have a chance to pursue her dreams. Another life cut short, just like that.

A heavy knock on your hotel room door causes you to jump, your hand knocking your noodle container aside. You curse, quickly scrambling for the napkins on the bedside table.

“One moment!” You say loudly, hoping whoever is knocking can hear you. You swear under your breath as you throw the napkins on your bedspread, moving aside the case files that were luckily spared and pressing down on them, hoping that can remove the dark stain that formed from the oily noodles. After a few frantic presses and a few noodles thrown off the bed, you rush to the door, hurrying to unlock it.

“Who is it?” You ask, sliding the lock open and pulling open the heavy door.

You are greeted with silence. The hallway is empty.

You frown, scanning the empty corridors for any sign of life but tacky, floral wallpaper is the only thing that greets you.

You glance down at the disjointed striped carpet and see a blank white envelope. Glancing down the hallway once more, you pick it up, retreating into your room and shutting the door behind you. You reach for your phone, tempted to text Jungkook about it, but you stop before you can press the call button, assuring yourself it is nothing. You plop in your desk chair, tearing the side and running your finger along the top of the envelope.

Peering inside, you are greeted with a plain piece of cream colored cardstock. Realization dawns on you and the stench of copper and rose wafts out of the letter as an image of Jaehyun’s phone flashes in front of your eyes.

You scream.

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mirror: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2k

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

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

“Everything will be done by Cheryl. Cheryl will gather the money packets. Only she will touch the money. Cheryl will make the drop. If she is wired or if you use a look-a-like, Patricia dies. Cheryl will get in her car. No one is to be in the car with her, no one is to follow her no air surveillance, and no car surveillance of any kind will be tolerated. I will give directions over a cell phone as Cheryl drives. She must make the drop at exactly 3:00 A.M. She will follow each instruction to the letter.”

The unsub’s message was clear, and Cheryl did just that. She packed the money into one duffel bag, making sure to fill it to the brim with every single stack. Just for good measure, Derek and Hotch were going with her to make sure that everything was in place. The unsub might not do what he says or there could be more than one person so it was smart to take the two agents.

Spencer was hooking the computer up to the GPS in Cheryl’s car so he could track it wherever it went, even if she got lost or the unsub hijacks her in any way shape or form. No matter what happens, Cheryl will be covered in every way there is. As soon as the trio left, you called Derek on his phone just to keep in contact with your teammates.

“Cheryl's car has GPS. We'll be able to track her,” Spencer said as you leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. The phone was close to his mouth so Derek heard every word he said.

“The first thing he's gonna do is have her switch cars. Where are we headed?”

“Where are they headed, Spence?” you asked.

“Let's see,” he muttered, typing on the computer until the map popped up. “An address which appears to be a rental car lot.”

“Keep an eye out and be careful please,” you told Derek right before hanging up. Sighing, you fell into the seat next to Spencer and looked at him with careful eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing, just trying to figure you out,” you muttered to yourself, but he heard you loud and clear. All you could do at this point is wait, but you couldn’t help but notice something odd. Evan’s security team was inside the house, but there was one person who keeps missing all of the action.

“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked, noticing the look on your face.

“Isn’t is kind of weird that Vincent is missing all of this? He seems to disappear right when the calls or something important is happening.”

“You’re right. Where is he?”

“That’s what we have to figure out.”

Just like you predicted, the drop didn’t go as planned. Instead of it being about the money, it was set up as a second kidnapping. Cheryl was almost taken from the car lot if it hadn't been for Derek and Hotch there. The unsub got away, and the first thing they did was bring Cheryl back to her house where she was safe. When her father heard about this, he visibly and emotionally freaked out until he could see her for himself.

“Cheryl’s alright,” Derek assured when the trio returned. Evan immediately went to his daughter who held the duffel bag of cash in his hand. It was never about the money. The phone started ringing and you knew who it was and what they had to say. Everyone headed over to the machine, and you made sure the room was silent before pressing the button.

“That was fun, wasn't it? A little running around and getting our pulses racing. Are you there, Cheryl? Are you there?! Tell me you didn't feel a slight tingle, a thrill run up your spine. Huh? But those clever and cunning FBI agents deduced my little plan just in time. They figured it out. If they hadn't, I would have had you both. The whole set. The matching pair,” the unsub laughed. Looking over at Spencer, you noticed he typed ‘collector’ since he was trying to take notes on the unsub the more he revealed about himself.

“Why are you doing this?” Cheryl blurted out.

“Because you asked me to, Cheryl. You asked me with your glances. The way you talk. Those little gestures.”

Reaching over, you pressed the mute button which only confused the young girl.

“What are you doing?”

“Do not answer this man.”

“You asked for this! You asked for it, Cheryl!” the unsub yelled. She jerked away from you and pressed the button to speak. Derek reached out for her, but she managed to evade his capture at the last minute.

“Cheryl!” Derek hissed, but covered his mouth when the call was unmuted.

“What do you want?” she screamed.

“What do I want?! You! It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow but I promise you, we will be together!” he yelled back and hung up. Sighing, you scratched the back of your neck and looked at Gideon for further guidance.

“We can not let Cheryl speak with him any further.”

“Why not?”

“It's only feeding his psychosis to allow your interaction,” Spencer answered. “Was Trish involved in any serious relationships prior to the kidnapping?”

“With the boy that was killed. They were together for 2 years,” Evan answered.

“Trish didn't want me to tell you. They were getting engaged,” Cheryl sighed.

“Well, that certainly could have been the unsub's stressor,” you pointed out.

“What does that mean?” Evan asked, but nobody answered him. “Will someone please tell me what we're dealing with here?”

“De Clerambault's syndrome, otherwise known as erotomania which is the belief that someone, usually of a higher social status but not necessarily a celebrity, is in love with you. Erotomanics believe that the objects of their affection are subtly professing their love for them through looks, gestures, and glances. The unsub truly and full-heartedly believes that Cheryl and Trish are in love with him. They don't tell him this with their voices. No, with gestures and looks. He's obsessed with them.”

“What does this mean?”

“He’s the most determined kind of criminal,” you stated. “Which is the most dangerous since there isn’t anything that they won’t do.”

“Crime of obsession. Your specialty, your lead, Morgan,” Hotch said from the other side of the room. Leaving the group you were with, you approached the other one to voice your opinion on what should be done.

“I think we should recheck everyone on Davenport's staff against the profile of a stalker,” Derek said once you got there.

“No need. Just do one: Vincent. I don’t like him,” you shrugged.

“That may be, but we need to be open minded here,” Hotch dismissed.

“Aren't stalking behaviors pretty diverse?” Elle asked.

“There's overlap. Narcissistic, inflated sense of self-worth, and history of bad relationships.”

“What do we know so far?”

“He's probably white, and obviously male sophisticated speech patterns.”

“Sophisticated, yet bizarre. He rarely uses contractions. It's not ‘you're’, it's ‘you are’. He’s pretentious,” Gideon added in his two cents. “He wants to sound smarter than he actually is. Whatever position of authority or level of success this guy has, he had to struggle for it.”

“We also have to face the possibility at this point that Trish may already be dead,” Hotch whispered so that Evan couldn’t hear him.

“I don’t feel it, though. She’s close, and I can feel her fear, Hotch. She’s not dead… not yet.”

“You know, so far he's called every play. I say we apply some pressure, make him sweat,” Derek suggested.

“Well, there's only one way to do that,” Gideon smiled. As if on cue the phone started ringing, and everyone gathered around it. Gideon was the one who was in charge here, and he let it ring, and ring, and ring, and ring. Evan was getting impatient and went to answer it, but Gideon interjected him.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Gideon muttered, answering the call but hanging up right away.

“What are you doing?” Evan asked. The phone rang again, and you could sense the anger coming from the unsub through the phone. When the older agent didn’t answer, he tried again. “Agent Gideon.”

“Hello?” Gideon asked once he answered the call.

“Tell me there was a technical issue with the line because if you actually just hung up on m--”

“What the hell are you doing?” Evan screeched. Gideon hung up while the unsub was talking which would surely get him angry enough to reveal something important about himself.

“Are you gonna answer it?” Cheryl asked.

“Why is he doing this? What is he--what--you're gonna drive this guy crazy!”

“Just, quiet. Please, quiet,” Gideon whispered.

“Cheryl, he knows what he's doing,” Elle tried assuring her. The phone started ringing again, but Gideon made no move to answer it.

“Somebody has to answer it!” Cheryl shouted.

“Just answer the phone, for god's sake!” Evan yelled, reaching for the phone. Gideon was on him in seconds because it was important that he doesn’t touch the phone.

“Don't touch it!”

“He knows what he's doing!” Derek held Evan back from touching it.

“Davenport residence,” Gideon finally answered.

“Are you out of your mind? You do realize, you do understand, that I'll kill her?! Do you--”

“You're killing my daughter!” Evan cried. He didn’t understand what was going on, and you were kind of overwhelmed by the amount of emotions that were in the room. The phone started ringing once more, and Evan almost lost it. “Pick up that phone!”

“Get him quiet. Mr. Davenport, get a hold of yourself.”

“Answer the phone!”

“Quiet him!”

“Evan! Stop! Trish isn’t dead! Please, let us do our jobs!” you stated, putting yourself between Gideon and Evan. He could only whimper at this point, and Cheryl was a silent mess all on her own. However, she had Elle there to lean on in case she needed to. Gideon finally answered the phone, but the unsub was the one to speak first.

“She is dead! You hang up on me again, and I rip her open!”

“I'm sorry. You must have the wrong number,” Gideon chuckled, hanging up once more. Evan was a crying mess, but Derek helped him try to stay on his two feet.

“Come on, Gideon,” Derek sighed.

“You killed her.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what--what the hell does he think he’s doing?” Evan directed his question at you.

“I'm saving your daughter, Mr. Davenport. Have a little faith,” Gideon answered. The phone rang for the last time, and Gideon gladly answered it.

“Put Cheryl on the phone.”

“No, you're finished talking to Cheryl.”

“Listen to that tone of authority. Just like your published work, agent Gideon. Fascinating to hear the same arrogant quality in your own voice. You are a bit of a pedant, Jason, a bit didactic.”

“Well, that's a very interesting conclusion. You sound intelligent, and you certainly sound educated, but we both know that's not true.”

“Oh, I know all about all of you. The ambitious agent Hotchner? Do you wanna be director of the FBI someday, agent Hotchner? Would you step on Jason Gideon to get there? I think you would. Posttraumatic stress is a very good excuse. Even your sick, pregnant wife can't get you to leave your post.

“Jason Gideon, an expert in the criminal psyche yet unable to diagnose the autistic leanings of the very insecure Dr. Reid. Well, maybe he can make money counting cards in Las Vegas. The lovely Elle was promoted too soon. She doesn't have what it takes to make it in the B.A.U. Boys club. Let’s not forget Y/N and that gift she calls psychic when we all know it’s pure shit! She is overcompensating for something truly terrible, isn’t that right? You're no threat to me, you're no threat to anyone!

“And Token Derek Morgan wants to be taken seriously, but he is just a pumped-up side of beef. I know who you are, I know how you think and I know what to do next! Do you?” the unsub finally finished, slamming the receiver down. Everyone was in shock that he knew this much about you which could only mean one thing…

He was one of you, and you were right.

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[lucywritesreid]

With Heaven Above You

Summary: A particular case has got the BAU stumped. They’re all working overtime to try and catch the killer. But something happens along the way, and y/n is the only one who can solve the case in time…

Warnings: Mentions of swearing, details of crime scenes/gore.

Notes: Not sure how many parts this is going to have yet, my first go at something with a few chapters! I want to thank @theoutsidersladies for all their help in coming up with the ideas and discussing the plot with me! This one is a lot of talking (sorry) it’s just setting up for future chapters! I’ll have part 2 ready tomorrow! I’m not sure how many parts there’ll be yet. Possibly 5/6. Thank you for all your support, it really means a lot! 

Word Count: 1.5k

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Morgan sighed and pushed the photographs away from him, burying his head in his hands.

 “Unfortunately, no, this takes our total body count now up to seven,” Hotch replied sternly arms folded across his chest. You were always amazed at his ability to seem concerned and distanced at the same time. Whilst the rest of the team were gradually losing their composure over this case, he always stood clear headed and controlled. A lighthouse in a storm.

“That means his timescale has increased. He’s gone from a cooling off period of a couple of weeks to a few days,” JJ commented whilst picking up the photographs that Morgan had slid across the table. You watched as she studied them closely, sighed, and turned them over so they were face down. You really didn’t want to see what was on them but you knew you had to.

Turning your attention to the computer screen a small gasp escaped your lips as the photographs were now displayed in full view. Garcia hesitated before pressing the remote control to allow the slideshow to begin. There wasn’t much that made your stomach turn, especially after your years with the BAU, but there was something about what this unsub was doing that really made your skin crawl.

“Who’s the victim?” you asked timidly almost afraid for a response. “This one’s Lacey Petterson, 37. Her husband reported her missing last Tuesday and she was found this morning,” Garcia coughed, “positioned like this outside her place of work.”

“Where did she work?” JJ responded. There was a definite moment of silence before Hotch answered the question. “A pre-school.” A collective shudder went through you all. This unsub was taking victims who had steady, respectable jobs and then making a mockery of them. They were showing up outside their work places after the most gruesome and horrifying torture imaginable. A firefighter, a librarian, two police officers, a lawyer, a nurse and now a teacher. “The only real link with the victomology then is their professions. They didn’t live near each other. As far as we have seen they had no social links and didn’t even commute in the same area. Did Lacey Petterson have any other connections that we know of?” Spencer asked. As he spoke, you felt the comfort of the palm of his hand reach up and settle on your thigh. Displays of affection at work were reduced to a minimum, but Spencer knew just how much this case was bothering you and the slightest touch from his hand was settling you back down again.

The team continued to discuss the aspects of the case. Garcia demonstrated from her research how the latest victim had no social ties to any of the previous ones. She then handed out the medical examiner’s report and you all sat in silence while you read the horrific ways he had tortured and mutilated her body before putting it on display. The conversation went back and forth throughout the room, each discussing possible motives, geographical possibilities of future victims (Spencer’s speciality) and how you were going to catch him. You all settled on the fact that he was obviously loving the attention from the case. Each victim had been posed in a public setting and there had been a flood of media attention. The press were referring to him as the ‘career killer’ but you all had your suspicions that he was probably thriving off that nickname.

Then you moved onto potential future victims.

“I hate to be the one to say it,” you chewed on your lip nervously as you spoke, “but could we be targets? I mean, this guy has already gone for two local officers. An FBI agent would provide him with the perfect amount of press coverage.”

“What are you thinking, y/n?” Hotch asked. You felt Spencer’s grip a little stronger on your leg. He knew exactly what you were going to say next and it obviously made him a little uneasy. “I think one of us needs to try and bait him out. Go on TV and be interviewed about him. Taunt him a little. Make him angry. I feel like that would be a good way to lure him out.”

It was a very likely possibility that if he did go after one of the team that somebody was going to get hurt. All of his victims had suffered immense torture. They’d been starved, gagged, stabbed, shot, electrocuted, poisoned. All reports had stated that this torture had began immediately into their capture and not stopped until their deaths. “It’s a good idea,” Morgan shrugged. “I’d feel a bit more like we were doing something to catch the son of a bitch.”

“And you would like to be the bait, y/n?” Hotch asked. The warmth of Spencer’s hand on your leg quickly shifted as he moved to fold his arms. You didn’t dare looking over to your left. You knew he didn’t like you putting yourself in harms way but wasn’t going to say anything because you were at work. “Yeah I think so,” you replied swiftly, “I feel like I could give this guy a piece of my mind.” The mood in the room lifted a little, small laughs being heard but you were unsure who it was. Probably Derek.

“I think she’d be a good choice. A young, pretty FBI agent mocking him on national television would surely give us the rise we’re looking for,” said Rossi. “I’d be happy to help y/n prep for questions if we wanted to go head with it,” JJ added. She smiled reassuringly across the table, showing her support.

“Okay, we’ll set up the press conference for tomorrow afternoon.” Hotch confirmed. “Rossi, Morgan, I want you to go to the latest crime scene and gather all the information that you can. Garcia, keep digging into the lives of our victims and see if there’s any chance they may have crossed paths. JJ, Prentis, talk to the other victims families and see what you can get from them. I’m going to go talk with the police chief about implementing a curfew. Reid, Y/N, stay here and go through the profile with a fine toothed comb.”

Everyone was quick to jump up and act on their instructions. Although he would never admit it, you had the slightest suspicion that Hotch had left the two of you together because of your willingness to be a potential victim. Perhaps he thought you’d end up in an argument and didn’t want it to be out in public.

Before you had any chance to speak to him, Spencer stood up and made his way to the door. “I’m going to get us both a cup of coffee,” he said without looking at you.

“Spence, please…” He turned to face you and smiled softly. You could see the dark circles were more prominent around his eyes. You felt a sudden sense of guilt for sleeping all through the night, sleeping softly next to him, when it was obvious his night wasn’t the same. You would never say that you profiled Spencer, but you had a certain intuition that told you exactly what and how he was thinking at all times. You’d never felt closer to another person in your life, and neither had Spencer. You worked together, lived together, loved together. And the idea that something bad would happen to one of you… You knew all too well that the other one wouldn’t be able to survive it. “I know this case has been hard on you, honey. I don’t want to make it worse…”

He sighed and rubbed his fingers on his temples. “I know you’re not, y/n. I just don’t think I can bare to think about you in this situation.” He gestured towards the pictures still displayed on the screen. “I can’t stop thinking about these pictures. These people. The thought of it being you is just… unbearable.” He stifled a yawn. “I haven’t slept properly since this case started. There’s something about it that we’re missing and I just can’t put my finger on it,” he smiled weakly. “I do think you’re right about needing to taunt him out. I think it’ll work. I just can’t…”

“We’re just gonna have to catch him first,” you interrupted. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, or to you, or to anyone else on this team.”

Spencer smiled back. “Let’s get to work”

 End of part 1

[word-scribbless]

Things Are Different Part 5

The final part! For now anyway! I might add more later.

Gif not mine.

Masterlist

  Part 1 | Part 2  | Part 3   |  Part 4 | -----

Annie woke up with a pounding headache, and an achey body. Quickly,  she realized she was handcuffed to a chair in an unfamiliar basement. She had no idea how long she’d been there, she could only hope Penelope noticed she was late, or Aaron or Spencer tried to contact her.

*** “Hotch have you heard from Annie?” Spencer asked as he walked over to his boss at the crime scene. “No, I called this morning but she didn’t answer.” He says looking a bit worried, “Call Garcia she’s probably with her.” Spencer nods and gets his phone out. “ Queen of the Internet how can I help you?” She answered “Hey Garcia” Spencer responded, “ I can’t get a hold of Annie, can you ask her to call me?” “Spence she isn’t with me…” she said sounding nervous. “I figured that she was with Jack or ended up going with you guys.” “She hasn’t come in?” Spencer says frantically “No she hasn’t, is everything okay?” Garcia questions. “Hotch Annie’s missing!” Spencer yells “Garcia can you track her phone?”

*** Annie looked around, taking in her surroundings. She noticed a heavily locked door, sounds of one set of boots above her, the fact that she was alone in the basement, and the fact that her capture was not very good at securing people. She was able to   bend forwards to reach down to grab her gun she kept on her ankle, man this guy sucked at this whole bad guy thing. Being a Hotchner really did come in handy sometimes, she was more prepared for this than the average person. She gripped the gun in her hands and moved back to how the man had left her, tucking the gun into her shirt where she could easily get to it. She started to struggle against the chains attaching her chair to the wall, hoping to lure the suspect down the stairs. She knew she would have to deal with him eventually, better on her own terms. She could hear boots on the steps. Taking a deep breath she prepared for the worst. “She’s awake! It’s Show time,” Said the man in a voice that made her sick. He turned around and began setting up a camera and computer he had right in front of her, turning the devices on. “Tell your brother Hello.” The man said with a sickening smirk.

***

Hotch hears his phone ding as he, Spencer, and Morgan are rushing to the SUV, hoping to get a lead from Garcia on his sister’s whereabouts. He looks at his phone as he sits down in the drivers seat, seeing he received a link in a text from an unknown number. The video makes him clench his fist so hard his knuckles go white. “Damn it” He yells, slamming his fists into the steering wheel. “What’s wrong?” Spencer yells as Hotch turns the phone to him. His face goes white as he sees a bloodied Annie, hand cuffed to a beam in a dingy basement. “Garcia,” Derek says into the phone having her trace the sender.

“I said, say Hello to your brother, and to your boyfriend while you’re at it” the man said, as Annie shakes her head no The team gasps as they see the man pull out a knife. They are now in the BAU conference room watching the video feed as Garcia works on tracing it. “Then say good bye to them,” he says as he lunges at her, dropping the camera to the ground. The team can no longer see what is happening when they hear a gun shot. Spencer sobs, turning around and slamming his hand into the door jam in anger, and Hotch slams his hand against the table.

“Oh god,” Garcia gasps as the gun shot and squeaks “I have a location.” “Lets go!” Hotch yells as they hear Annie’s voice, stopping them in their tracks. “Aaron, Spence, guys. I’m here, I’m alive but I have no idea where I am. Please find me, don’t stop looking. They all let out a breath they had been holding since the gun went off. “Garcia, patch this into the coms, we need to move!” Hotch says, moving to the SUV again.   “I don’t know if you guys can really hear me or not” They hear Annie continue,       “ but I kinda feel like I’m not gonna make it out of here so I should say this just incase. Not that that makes any sense, because this guy could have just been screwing with me, but I’m losing blood and if there’s a chance you all can hear me than I need to say this. Here I go.” They listen through their earpieces as they rush down the street. “Pen, JJ, Em; Thank you for accepting me as your friend and being the nosey, goofy sisters I never had.” She sniffled. “Derek, thank you for being a hopeless flirt and always making me laugh and feel pretty even on the worst day.” She chuckles and the respective team members smirk through their emotions of dread. “Rossi, Thank you for teaching me to cook, and taking care of my big brother, and keeping him in line.” She huffs a laugh through the pain from the restraints, and the slash across her arm. “Oh Aaron, my big brother, thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for pushing me to be my best, even when it annoys me. “Aaron smiles as he tries to hold back tears. “And most importantly at the moment, thank you for teaching me the importance for concealed carry permits, and ankle holsters, or I’d be a lot worse off than this cut on my arm.” Aaron smirks once again with pride but shivers as he hears that he had gotten her with the knife. “Big brother, no matter what happens here, it is NOT your fault. You and Jack are so strong, I love you both so much and, I am so proud of you.” She sniffles, as Aaron wipes away a tear that escaped. Annie takes as deep of a breath as she can, “Spencer, oh my sweet Spencer. I’m probably going to be so embarrassed if you’re listening to this but I need to say it. Spencer Reid I love you.” Spencer gasps and Hotch looks over to see tears running down his face.

“I know, not the ideal time for that statement and you probably can’t even hear me but, I love you so much. I am so thankful that we finally got the nerve to explore our feelings. Every moment with you is my favorite and I really hope I get to tell you this in person.” Spencer wipes his tears as they pull up to the house.

Annie hears footsteps above her then a firmiliar voice yell “FBI”. “I’M DOWN HERE! AARON! SPENCER!. She hears the door open and sees both men running towards her followed by the team. As Morgan checks to assure the unsub is dead, Aaron and Spencer rush to Annie.   “This is our guy Hotch, good shot Annie girl.” Morgan says.

Annie smiles weakly as Aaron unties her and hugs her tightly, kissing her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay! And I’m so proud of you for finally listening to me even when it annoys you.” He laughs pointing to the ankle holster. She smiles and rolls her eyes. Aaron moves aside to let Spencer talk to her.

“Hey there beautiful” He says as he cups her cheeks and kisses her softly. “I’m so happy you are okay!” She smiles and kisses his cheek before she realizes that Aaron quoted what she said to the camera. “Spence?” she says pulling back. He looks at her and nods, urging her to go on. “Did you hear what I said, you know when I didn’t know if you were listening?” she asks nervously. Spencer nods and catches her wrists gently as she tries to cover her face. “Annie?” Spencer says getting her to look at him. “I love you too sweetheart. So much!” She smiles and pulls him in to a kiss. “Ahem,”  Aaron interrupts. “Again, I’m all for this… but you’re bleeding so lets pause the smooching and get that arm looked at.” They laugh as Spencer helps her up and whispers in her ear “We’ll continue this later my love”. The end

[kimmyiewrites]

Case Closed ~ Chpt 3

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AN: This week I will only be updating my stories once. I've got a big weekend ahead of me which starts on Thursday hence not updating the second half of the week as usual. ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I can't wait to hear what you think. Much love!

The next morning, there was a report of a missing person. They were taken from the more popular bar in the area. Everything that Bex had predicted, rang true for the latest victim: mane like hair, at a bar, and never approached the girl that he kept looking at. Jennifer and Spencer had been assigned that bar and Spencer was being eaten up by the guilt that he didn’t catch the signs. Jennifer tried to calm him down but he could not get the image of Bex’s face once she heard the news out of his mind.

Her face had turned white, her eyes had gone wide, and she really couldn’t decide what she needed to do so she ran. She didn’t realize where she was running to until she was looking under the bathroom stalls to make sure she was the only person in there. When the coast was clear, she locked the door and then leaned against the wall.

She started about by taking a few deep breaths but that wasn’t enough. There was still this feeling just sitting on her chest. She then let out a shout of frustration as she beat against the wall with her fist. After that she let out sigh. She felt a little better but she still felt like the weight she was carrying on her shoulders was pushed down just a bit more. Without really thinking, she pulled out her phone and called Mike.

“Why do I do this? I’m clearly not any good at it.” She said as soon as Mike answered the phone.

Her frustration was heard clearly in her voice. “You do it because you want to help keep people safe but give me one minute and we can dive further into this.” He replied, locking his computer as he stood to let Red know that he was stepping out to take the call. He poked his head through the door into Red’s office. “Hey, I’m stepping out of the office real quick. My sister’s having one of her bad days and my mom needs my help.” Red just waved him off and told him to hurry back.

Mike nodded and brought the phone back up to his ear. “Okay, back to why you do this.” He started as he walked out of the office, heading towards the exit of the building. “You do this because you want to help keep people safe, you do this because you fully believe in the constitution, you do this because you don’t want anyone else to feel the way you did at the beginning of your sister’s case. That case is still open and you’re going to close it, giving not only yourself a sense of peace but everyone involved.”

“Well, that’s all grand and good, Mike but I’m definitely not doing that now and I haven’t been doing that since I was put on this case. I should just request to be taken off the case and come back and help you out.” She slid down, bringing her knees up to her chest.

“Bex that is outside of your control. You are doing everything in your power that you can do. Now what happened? You sounded so hopeful last night.” He found a place on the steps outside of the capitol, out of the way and sat down.

She sighed and rested her head on her knees. “Another person was taken last night. Everything matched to a t, Mike. Every detail I predicted, matched. We had people at every bar in town and still we weren’t able to identify the person who’s doing all of this or protect the one deemed character enough.”

“I don’t know about you but that just seems to me like you’re almost there. You were able to predict his next move, Bex. Isn’t that a major break through? You told me at the beginning of this that the one thing you hated about this was that you couldn’t predict the next steps. Sounds like to me, you just did. So go back out to the team and start planning your next move. Think of it as you’re about to raid a buy. You are good at your job, Bex. Don’t ever forget that.” Mike hoped that she would believe him. He also hoped they would finally catch this killer because he wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to truly cope with him still not being captured.

“So now it’s the search for his location.” Bex looked up from where she was resting her head and slowly stood back up. “We can narrow down our list because he’ll need plenty of space to keep someone and not have a lot of witnesses.”

“Now there’s Special Agent Bex Morris. Go back out to your team and get started on your search. You’ve got this Bex. No one else is gonna fall victim to this guy. If you need a reminder of that or need someone to be your sound board, give me a call. Crazy senators can wait.” He smiled, standing up and slowly turning to head back up the steps.

“I will and thank you, Mike. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She hung up the phone and put it back in her pocket. She took a deep breath and unlocked the bathroom door.

Just as she opened the door, Spencer had raised his fist to knock on the door. In his other hand was a cup of tea. “I brought a peace offering.” He said, holding the cup out to her.

She gave him a small, grateful smile and took the cup. “You know I don’t blame you right. He was probably sitting in some corner that couldn’t be seen all too well. We’ve still got time to figure out our unsub’s location.”

Spencer let out a breath of relief. She wasn’t mad at him. “Can I get a hug before we go back in there?” He asked, raising his arms slightly.

“Of course.” Her small smile grew into a grin as she wrapped her arms around his middle. She nestled her head into his chest and let out another deep breath. “I could never be mad at you. I’m sorry if I made you think that. I just thought that since we were one step ahead that we would be able to get him, you know? I’m just so ready for this case to finally be over.”

Spencer rubbed her back. “I know and we will. I’m sure you’ve already come up with some parameters that could narrow down locations.”

She giggled, giving him one last squeeze before pulling back. “Sure do and I could really use your help with that.”

“Then let’s go.” He smiled down at her, offering his arm before they headed back to the conference room.

[spencerreidsmiles]

Forgetting Yourself

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

This is the fic for Hannah’s Classic Criminal Minds Quote Challenge. My quote was “I think it goes without saying that I was expecting it to be someone else.” Thanks to Hannah for letting me participate in this challenge. This fic was a lot of fun to write!

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 1819

MASTERLIST

“You all know why we’ve been gathered here. Someone at the FBI has been selling our classified files to Norman Rockwell, who was dubbed “The Pursuer” by the media. He deludes himself into believing that he is a vigilante by killing all of the people that the FBI has failed to catch within a two to ten year span. The suspect assisting Rockwell is only giving paper files, which leads the BAU to believe that the suspect is inept at working with computers or needs to cover their tracks very well. The BAU will send out weekly emails to everyone a part of this investigation to make sure that everyone is up to date. Any information should be reported to me or the rest of the my unit. Thank you,” you informed the office.

The rest of the people fled back to their floors and cubicles as you retreated to your office. You sat down on your chair and rested your head on your folded arms. This had been going on for two months. You had just become the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit less than six months ago and of course this just had to happen.

You heard two small taps from the other side of the office that was followed by a “Hey. May I come in?”

You lifted your head begrudgingly and saw that it was your curly haired fiancee. You indicated that he could come in.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?” you asked as cheerfully as you could muster.

“Are you okay?” Spence asked. He sat in the chair in front of your desk and crossed his legs.

“Yeah, I think. I just really wished that Hotch was here. You know, he swore that he was going to train me to become in charge. Hotch would have known exactly what to do right now. Honestly, Spencer, at this point, I’m just making the FBI look like a joke in the media,” you groaned.

Hotch was a person that required an acquired taste to like. Besides your fiancee, Hotch was the guy that you went to when things were bad. He was straightforward and always knew exactly what to say. And now he was gone. He wasn’t even allowed to leave a note for you when he got swept away into witness protection.

“I’m so incompetent. How did I even get this job? Walker would have made a better chief. At least he’s got experience.”

“Sweetheart, you’re doing all that you can. You didn’t make this happen. No one could have predicted this,” Spencer reminded you. He kissed your forehead gingerly and rubbed your fingers sweetly.

“I know. At least you’re here as my moral support,” you murmured.

“I love you, boss.”

“Love you too, babe.”

As Spencer left, you leafed through the steadily growing file on Norman Rockwell.

Rockwell was born in Iowa in 1987 to Janet Morgan Rockwell and Paul Rockwell. His father became abusive after his mother died. He was taken by Child Services and placed in a foster home. His foster parents mysteriously disappeared, leading Rockwell to become obsessed with trying to find them. The FBI started an investigation, but due to budget cuts and more dire cases, his foster parents’ case was dropped.

Rockwell did not attend any higher education although he had an IQ that easily could’ve gotten him into MENSA. Instead, he worked several odd jobs to provide for himself. He took up programming and hacking as a way to earn money after he was fired from a construction job for “insubordinate behavior”. Rockwell went off the grid for a while after that and then the murders started occurring. So many unsolved cases. It was remarkable. None of the many resources at the FBI could find these suspects, and yet somehow, Rockwell had found all of these people. How. Who would be so willing to betray their promise to their country? Who would’ve been swayed so easily?

You quietly unlocked the last metal drawer in your desk. Your most important things were in there. Pictures. Pictures of every single solved case that you participated in. It was the only thing that was keeping you from going insane from this Rockwell case. It reminded you about how you had helped people before and that they were alive because of you and your team. Norman Rockwell, no matter how many people he killed, would not break your spirit.

The next few weeks, you began conducting private investigations. Garcia had taught you how to do basic background information, so you began to use that skillset to search up information about everyone who had information about the unsolved cases. Even your own team. Of course, you trusted them wholeheartedly, but you couldn’t be too sure.

In the meanwhile, you sent your team out on cases to keep their minds off of the troubling lack of information about the traitorous informant in the FBI and how far you were from actually capturing Rockwell.

The team was on a case in New Mexico, tracking an unsub who used a shotgun to kill his victim and then rolled them over with a truck tire. The BAU was on their fourth day there, and fortunately, was close to finding the killer. As always, you called them to check their progress.

“Hey guys. How’s it going in New Mexico?”

“Hi, Y/N. Garcia’s narrowed down the suspect pool down to a few men in the area, but we’re checking them out tomorrow. We’re going to see if we can find any extra information tonight,” Prentiss answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Sounds good to me. Can you put Spencer on the phone?”

“Sure. Spencer?”

You waited for a little. There was a low murmur of chatter in the background.

“Em?” you asked, hesitant.

“...We can’t find him.”

“What? What do you mean that you can’t find him?”

“He’s not here. He went to go check out one last suspect before we turned in for the night. Reid said that he’d be back in a half hour, but it’s been an hour longer.”

“Put Penelope into the call. Tell her to track his phone.”

“He left it here. Why would he leave his phone?”

Your heart began to pulse faster. Stop stop stop. Spencer Spencer Spencer.

“Emily. Could it be him?”

“Rockwell? It could. This case isn’t cold though.”

“He knows that we’re close to finding him. He could be trying to shake us up. We know he’s ruthless and he definitely knows that Spencer and I are super close.”

“How can we find him? Where would Rockwell take him?”

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t be emotional. You had to be the leader.

“Did he take his bag with him?”

“Yeah. It’s not here at least.”

“Penelope? Go to the encrypted folder on your computer called NR423. Crack it open.”

“Why?” Penelope asked.

“I put a tracking device in everyone’s bags. I know. It’s an invasion of privacy, but we can talk about it later. Go to Spencer’s. It’s under his initials. Where is he, Penelope?”

“Outside of Route 64. He’s there. I think there’s an abandoned shed or car garage there. Go get him, dollfaces!” Penelope cheered. Her voice was wavering, but she had to remain strong. For you. For all of the team.

“I’m getting on a plane. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

You ran as fast as you could to the other plane. It was faster. New Mexico was only a plane ride away. Spencer was only a plane ride away.

The moment you touched down in the airport, you blacked out completely. The only thing that ran through your mind was how Spencer was. Was he alive? Did they find him?

“Where is he?” you inquired hastily as you dashed into the station.

“Here.”

They directed you to a cell. Why was he in a cell? He was sat on the metal bench in there, fiddling with handcuffs. He didn’t look up. He was focused purely on his cuffs. You reached out to touch the bars, but was ushered away quickly and sent toward your team.

“Em? Why is he in a cell? What did he do?” you asked frantically.

Morgan wrapped you into a warm hug. You felt a pat on your back from JJ.

“We found him. He’s not hurt. He’s just…” JJ attempted to explain.

“Tell me, JJ,” you pleaded.

They sat you down and told you everything.

“Let me speak to him.”

“No, Y/N. I can’t. You can’t-” JJ began. She gripped your wrist anxiously.

“I’m the head of this team, Jennifer. And I will do this. I don’t care.”

“Y/N…”

“Let her do this, JJ,” Tara advised. JJ reluctantly let go with a sharp breath.

You walked in slowly. The guards opened the gates and you could feel your chest tighten. He was just there.

“Spencer?” you whispered. It was so quiet. Almost inaudible. Barely even words.

“Y/N. You’re here. Finally. You’re here. God, I missed you,” Spencer smiled so sweetly. He walked up to give you a hug, but he was restrained by his cuffs. “I keep forgetting about these.”

“Spencer. I think it goes without saying that I was expecting it to be someone else,” you said firmly. “How could you?”

“Y/N, no. It’s not like that. Rockwell made sense. It’s logical. They weren’t being caught, they had to be killed,” Spencer tried to reason.

“They had to be killed? Spencer are you even listening to yourself? That is wrong. All of this is wrong.”

“I was preventing people from getting killed in the future. What if those unsubs started killing again in the future? What would happen then?”

“Spencer, how can you say that? I don’t even know you. Selling out the FBI like this? Selling out yourself like this?” Your voice wasn’t breaking anymore. It was standing strong and like how a leader should sound.

“It was logical. It was right. You have to hear him talk about it. His vision...it’s what we all want. We all want a world free of criminals and killers. He wants that too.”

“You’re a criminal, Spencer. You’re one of them. And I wish I felt sorry for you, I really wish I could, but I just feel sorry for who you were before. Not what you’ve become. Goodbye, Spencer,” you stated. You weren’t showing how much you love-no, loved, him. Instead, you were a robot with a cold lack of remorse.

“Y/N, no! You can’t. You have to listen to him. You can understand him. Just like me,” Spencer pleaded.

You stood up slowly and took one last look around the room. God, you didn’t recognize him at all. Wherever your Spencer was, he wasn’t there in that room. He was gone. And maybe whoever you were was gone too because now, you didn’t recognize yourself anymore either.

@reiding-and-writing

[hotchnerfuckmeup]

She’s Wonderful

Pairing: Prentiss x Reader

Word Count: 2,137

Request:  Anon asked -  request where you're rossi's daughter and work for the BAU and you and emily start dating but keep it a secret until you get hurt on the job and she won't leave your side and saying that she loves you and when you wake up she kisses you in front of the team and everyone is like, "yes!!" and rossi is just confused

A/N:  This switched from second person to first at one point, because it made sense since the reader wasn’t awake.

You walked through the doors of the BAU bullpen, feeling entirely happy.  The night before, Emily had came over to your place for a low-key birthday celebration for your cat.  Yes, you and your girlfriend decided to throw a small party for your feline friend consisting of you, Emily, Sergio and Fiona, your rag doll cat.  It was a warm occasion, and the bottle of wine Em had brought over made it all the more enjoyable.

So walking in the bullpen that day with a little extra bounce in your step was evidence enough of your happiness.

“Someone looks chipper for a Monday,” your father said, seeing you sit down at your desk with the smile on your face stretching from ear to ear.

“Fiona’s birthday.  My baby is growing up,” you said nonchalantly, conveniently forgetting to mention Emily and Sergio’s presence at your apartment last night.

“Of course, because a cat’s birthday is such a milestone,” your dad told you sarcastically.  You rolled your eyes.

“Rossi,” Hotchner said from his office.  Both you and your dad looked over to him.  “Sorry.  Dave,” he clarified, disappearing behind his door.

“How about you let me know when your cactus’s birthday is,” your dad said, his sarcastic smirk approaching his features.

“Ha-ha,” you mused, starting up your computer.

“Briefing in five,” JJ said from the conference room door.

“Did you really celebrate your cat’s birthday?” you heard to your right.  You looked at Dr. Reid whose face was scrunched up in confusion.

“Yes, as I do every year, since birthdays are typically an annual thing,” you answered with sarcasm.  Man, did you take after your father.

“What’s annual?” Emily asked, walking up behind you.  You glanced at the clock on your desk noticing she arrived a bit too early.  Outside, she said she’d come in at least four minutes after you so nothing would look suspicious.

When she saw you looking at the time, she slammed her go bag onto your desk, making you look up at her.

“Wake up, I believe we have a briefing,” she told you, raising her eyebrows to reassure you that no one knew about the relationship.

“My bad,” you said in a snide tone, following her and the rest of the team into the round room.

“Carlsbad, New Mexico,” Garcia stated as everyone took their seats at the table.  You sat between your father and Reid, Emily was on the other side of Reid, much to your dismay.  “Three victims, all with similar injuries.  All show many defensive wounds and died from bleeding out after they were stabbed in the stomach.  Also, something the police found peculiar was that four leaf clovers were left at every crime scene.”

“Must be his signature,” Morgan said, scrolling through the pictures on his tablet.

“What do we know about the victims?” you asked Garcia.

“That’s the tricky part.  Every victim was found without an ID on them and when they ran DNA tests on them, nothing came up.  These are strictly Jane and John Does.”

“Has anyone been reported missing?” Emily asked.

“Again, tricky.  I took the liberty of researching that when I looked through the file myself, you’re welcome for that, and there hasn’t been anyone filed missing for seven years, and all of the missing people have either been found or proclaimed dead.  Those that were proclaimed dead don’t fit the descriptions of any of these victims, so basically, these people don’t really seem to exist on paper or in any kind of system.”

“I think tricky is a bit of an understatement,” JJ said with raised brows.  This case sounded near impossible to solve.

“Baby girl, you’re saying you can’t get anything on these victims?” Morgan asked, looking at her.  The bubbly blonde sighed a sad sigh, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint the team.

“I- I’m sorry.  I’ve been looking furiously,” she admitted, slumping in her chair.

“Why don’t you come with us?  We will be able to work faster with you there,” Hotch said to her.  She nodded.  “Wheels up in thirty.”

The team slowly dispersed from the room, but you waited behind, silently willing Emily to do the same.  As if she could hear your thoughts, she was last to be in the room with you.  

“Well, this certainly isn’t going to be an easy case,” you mumbled, already feeling the stress that was sure to come.

“If this job was easy, we wouldn’t be doing it right,” she replied, placing her hand on yours.

“Always so wise Emily Prentiss,” you said with a smile, your hand feeling hot from her touch.

“That’s why you fell for me after all,” she replied, winking at you and walking out the door.

“And you didn’t recognize her at all?” Emily asked the bartender.  He was the one who had found the only female victim.  He said he had been taking out the trash when he found her.

“No.  Never seen her before in my life,” he replied, wiping down the glass in his hand.  “I was asked this already by the police, and so was my guys.”  He motioned to the other men working.  “None of us ever seen her before.”

“Thank you,” you told him, defeated.  Walking away, you couldn’t help but feel a slump in your step, a vast difference to the morning walk you had.

“Hey,” Emily said, grabbing your wrist.  

“We have nothing, Em,” you whined.  “How are we supposed to solve a case without any sort of victimology?”

“Y/N, you know what we do.  We work backwards.  We put together the profile before we figure out the whats and whys of the victims.”  Her hand was still holding your wrist.  Luckily, Hotch sent you and Emily to the bar alone.  Out of the team’s prying eyes, especially your father’s, you felt comfortable lacing your fingers with hers.

“The men put up a fight, but not quiet as big a fight as the woman,” you said, simply thinking like the agent you were, remembering the defensive wounds on each victim.  “That might imply we’re looking for a woman.  The men would hesitate to come at a woman if their morals were in order.”

“And the wounds definitely show hesitation.” 

“So we’re looking for a woman,” you said, looking up at your girlfriend.  “How does that help us?”

“Y/N,” she started, pulling you down into a seat.  She sat across from your, holding onto your hands in a comforting manner.  “I hate seeing you like this.  You get frustrated so easily, you know that?”

“One of the many traits I obtained from father dearest,” you answered with a sigh.  She chuckled, looking at your intertwined hands.

“The fact that we know we’re looking for a woman means we are one step closer to catching the unsub,” she said.  Her thumbs began to brush across your knuckles, the feathery feeling sending your heart into overdrive.  The effects she had on you were unbelievable.  “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

You looked up at her sudden confession.  Your lips pressed into a shy smile.

“You are so good at what you do and this whole discouraging yourself thing needs to stop,” she said sternly.  Protective girlfriend was shining through, and although sometimes it seemed overbearing, you couldn’t help but feel a ping of happiness at the thought of her caring so much.  

“I love you,” you said suddenly, admitting to her for the first time the feelings you had so strongly for her.  She smiled at your confession, squeezing your hand.  Slowly, she leaned in, capturing your lips with hers for a tender moment.

“I love you, too.”

“Anything Garcia?” Hotch asked.  She was currently typing away at her laptop that was searching for every con woman in Carlsbad.

“I’ve managed to narrow it down to three.”

“Any with a history of martial arts of any kind?  A self defense class or something like it?” Reid asked, remembering the profile you were all able to pull together.  The injures on the victims were placed in places only someone with a knowledge of self defense would know.

“Mary Kinkaide.  She took taekwondo as a kid for nine years until she was kicked out for violent behavior,” she said, reading off her screen.

“What’s the address?” Hotch said, grabbing his pistol.

“9930 Harbor Lane,” she replied in a hurry.

“Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, agents were surrounding the house that belonged to Mary Kinkaide.  It wasn’t much of a house, more like a trailer, windows browned and broken, the front door practically hanging off the hinges.  You were in the middle of putting on your vest when the door to the trailer flew open, a man running out.

“She has a gun!” he yelled, diving to the ground. 

Just before you could turn and aim your gun at the physically fit woman who emerged from the trailer, a shot rang out and pain seared through your chest.  A few more shots rang out and in your fall to the ground, you watched Mary fall, too.

“Y/N!” you heard your father shout, but he sounded distant.

“No!” you heard the voice of your girlfriend.

The screams of your coworkers faded just as the world did.

(pov change)

She hadn’t left her side.  

Y/N was hanging on by a thread, and Emily could not stop trembling at the thought of losing her.

Her heart monitor continued to beep, the sound a constant reminder that she was still here.  She was alive, and she just had to hold on.

Emily held her hand, her fingers wrapped tightly around it.  Hearing footsteps approach the room, she quickly let go of her hand and sat up.

“Em?” JJ said from the door.  Emily looked up to meet her friend.  “You okay?”  Her face was etched with concern and wonder.

“Yeah,” Emily replied.  “I just...”  She didn’t know what to say.  The words were lost.

“None of us are ready to lose her,” JJ said, stepping closer to the bed.  “And I can promise you she’s not ready to leave us.”  Her voice was soft and comforting.  It was also knowing.  She knew.

Emily’s lip trembled as a tear fell down her cheek.  “I just... I love her so much,” she choked out.  Unable to keep in her emotions any longer, she lost it, breaking down in front of a strong agent and Y/N’s lifeless body.  JJ knelt down to Emily’s level, pulling her close in a comforting hug.

“It’s okay,” she said with a shaky voice.  “I promise it’s going to be okay.”

They sat like this for a while.  Once Emily had gathered herself, she told JJ she wanted to be alone with Y/N for the night.  Of course, David came in a few times to be with his daughter as well, and Emily couldn’t argue with that. 

It wasn’t until past midnight that the heartbeat monitor started to speed up.

Quickly, Emily sat up from her flopped position on the chair next to the hospital bed.  Without hesitation, she grabbed Y/N’s hand, squeezing it hard.

And after what seemed like forever, Y/N’s hand began to tense up, closing around the hand of her girlfriend.

“Y/N?” Emily said, her voice shaking.

“Em?” she started to reply, but her voice was hoarse.

“Y/N.”  Her name was a relief off her tongue.  In the next second, Emily was on her feet, enveloping Y/N in her embrace.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, but you’re kind of hurting me,” Y/N said with a wince.  Em smiled and released her.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m just so-”

“I know,” Y/N said cutting her off.  

Emily smiled down at the love of her life, her heart fluttering at the sight of her open eyes.  Without thinking about it, she leaned in and kissed her, their lips feeling right against each other.

“About time,” Morgan said, walking into the room.

“Yeah, it’s been what?  Five months?” Reid said, his hands stuffed in his pockets.  

Pulling away, Emily and Y/N shared a smile and both blushed.

“What?” David said, looking from Emily to his daughter back to Emily again.

“Um, so dad.  Em and I are...  Kind of a thing,” Y/N said with a pseudo guilty look on his face.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Hotch said, walking into the room.

“You knew about this?” David asked, still trying to wrap his head around this new information.

“You didn’t?” JJ asked, arms crossed and a smile resting on her lips.

“Dio mio,” Dave mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

“Dad, you’re a profiler.”

“I’m also your father, so it’s hard to read you for some reason,” he replied, giving her a peck on the forehead.  “I guess she’s not so bad.”

“She’s wonderful,” Y/N said, pulling Emily back down for another kiss.