#reid murder drones

[pep-the-artemis]

Thads Shindig

A Murder Drones Story Containing every named character+more (yes all ~50 of them, some never seen before, full cast list in tags)!

part 1.

word count - 4,448

Uzi - *playing a video game*

N - *entering*Hi Uzi… last week was… kinda wild.

Uzi - *unattentive*yep.

N - you know with the whole Eldritch J thing that was pretty insane, proms coming up which I guess is exciting. Because you know this story is set somewhere between episode 2 and 3.

Uzi - *still not listening*cool… Hey, I’ve got a second controller if you want to play video game with me.

N - you know I don’t like video game Uzi, plus we have to go soon.

Uzi - wait… go where?

N - well it's Thad’s shindig soon.

Uzi - oh cool, I’ll be heading offline in a minute anyway, this old hag—*reading username* SeaweedLoverXD has just been spawn camping me for the last half hour.

Nori - *over the mic* OLD HAG?

Uzi - *putting on headset*yeah, you virgin loser, you heard me!

Nori - Virgin?! Well I’ll have you know little miss Nobody, I am a mother of a darling daughter and if I ever caught her saying anything remotely similar to the insults you’ve been throwing my way I wouldn’t hesitate washing her mouth out with soap and water!

Uzi - whatever, die mad. *logs off*

*Meanwhile in a distant spaceship*

J - [you died idiot]

J - ughh, my head [Lost Memory Recovery Finished]... oh … oh! ... I liked that pen. 

J - *getting out of bed only to lose balance and collapse on the floor* … I’m okay! That was strange… My limb enhancements! Where are my limb enhancements?! *mad* Tessa! *pouting* Right now I bet I look like a common toaster! And why is it so dark? Are we conserving energy now?!

J - *walking through the spaceship arriving at a door labelled ‘Tessa. Knock first’*

J - *opening the door to a pitch black messy room,a pool of oil and blood pools out of the room*

Flesha - GET OUT!*throws Tessa’s helmet square at J cracking her visor slightly before slamming the door shut*

J - Tessa… I’m sorry.

Flesha - Learn to knock!

J - *picking up Tessa’s helmet* I think you dropped this.

Flesha - … *slowly opens the door slightly before lashing out and snatching the helmet quickly with a black tendril before retreating back into the room. Grotesque, bone cracking sounds follow*

J - …m,may I come in.

Tessa - sure, please mind the mess. I usually try to keep things clean but I guess you can say I haven't really been myself.

J - *entering* You know I’ve been reading some human literature and ‘arrogance and comedy’ are generally not considered a good coping mechanism.

Tessa - oh so you’re an expert on my well being are you?

J - your parents instructed me to protect you so yes!

Tessa - Well, look how that turned out! You’ve seen what's left of me, of what I become, I am a monster!

J - We’re all monsters Tessa, in our own way. I can see you're tired, I am here to grab my limb enhancers then I will be off.

Tessa - oh… yeah, I’ve been making modifications, it's still really buggy, they need more time though.

J - can’t I just borrow N's spare set? Been wondering what having feet feels like.

Tessa - no… I’ve been thinking, breaking into the Worker Drones commune is difficult, entering by force is doing little good and the plan to try and hack its main frame has only led to many complications.

J - you can code?

Tessa - nope. Like I said, complications. Anyhow, returning to the subject, right now no one could differentiate you from any other worker so you can head down and do some spy work… like James Bond and such.

J - do I have any say in this?

Tessa - nope.

J - *annoyed* then I’ll prepare my landing pod. *leaving* and Tessa, you shouldn’t just allow Cyn to walk over you…

Tessa - It's her body as much as mine and without it I would be dead.

*meanwhile, in the commune*

Doll - Мать. Отец. 

Doll - Ты будешь гордиться мной

Doll - Получите ответы и освободите вас

Doll - Не волнуйтесь, чего бы это ни стоило,

Doll - я ухожу

Doll - И я клянусь прямо сейчас

Doll - Что бы не случилось со мной

Doll - Любой, кто встанет или встанет на моем пути, заплатит

Doll - Они... будут... платить

Lizzy - hey babe, quit praying to the corpses of your dead parents, we have a party to attend.

Doll - иду :3

*meanwhile deep underground*

V - *carrying a large pile of dead worker drones while being chased by a horde of Sentinels* oh RoboLord oh RoboLord oh RoboLord oh RoboLord oh RoboLord oh RoboLord oh RoboLord why did I agree to this! *runs through door and slams it shut*

Alice - hey looky here, another one of those slick murder drones.

V - *shoots her in the centre of her head*

Beau - O.O!!!!!

V - What are you looking at… well I had to kill her? That was a perfectly sane reaction to seeing someone that creepy!...*picking up Alice's dead body* hey, you seem pretty cool, want to join me, I’m heading to a party.

Beau - O.O…*réaliser qu'un refus peut signifier la mort* 👍

*meanwhile in the doorman home*

Uzi - come on N. How are you still not ready?!

N - I’m still doing my hair!

Uzi - well hurry up, we’re going to be late!

Khan - well where are you two kids heading off too?

Uzi - a party, it's cool kids only so obviously you’re not invited.

Khan - haha, on account of me not being a kid.

Uzi - sure. Let's go with that.

Khan - well, I hope you two kids have fun. Make sure you use protection.

Uzi - *blushing* DAD!!! What the robo-hell?!

Khan - What? I’m just saying there could still be some of those evil murder drones running around.

Uzi - oh |: 

Kahn - well, I best be heading off too, it's poker night at the defence force. *leaves*

N - hey Uzi, I’m ready… How do I look?

Uzi - *hiding her blushing* great, let's go!

*meanwhile outside the commune*

Reid - *searching around the snow*

J - *wearing a fake moustache*what are you doing here, don’t you know this is Disassembly Drone territory.

Reid - oh hi, i didn’t see you there… Wait, what's a Disassembly Drone?

J - …you misheard me… I said Murder Drones.

Reid - Well, if you have to know, I’m looking for my glasses, and I don’t think the Disassembly Drone will be any issue, after the redemption and all.

J - Well, I’m lost, do you mind helping me find my way to the commune.

Reid - I’ll show the way once I’ve found the glasses.

J - ughh, I will help you find your glasses.

*searching*

J - are these your glasses?

Reid - …no, how curious, I wonder who they belong to? 

J - don’t care *tosses Vs glasses away* lets just find your glasses quickly then we can be off.

*meanwhile in the distant spaceship*

Tessa - *meddling with Js new limb enhancers and optic sensors* What do you want? (I’m bored sister, may I go and play). Not now, I’m currently using the body, can it wait? (no)... does it have to be flesh (digital will be fine) very well. *she zips back part of her suit allowing for a long Absolute Tendril to rip out. From the tendrils eye, a projection emerges*

Cyn - Thanks big sister big smile.

Tessa - *soldering* I can't play right now, there's some lego in the cupboard over there.

Cyn - :3

Tessa - *thinking to herself*What is J doing?! How has she still not yet made it to the commune!

Cyn - *surrounded by lego*you think she might be a traitor.

Tessa - no.

Cyn - lying is silly big sister, I live in your mind and you live in mine.

Tessa - I know, you’re very clever.

Cyn - big grin.

Intercom - *video call incoming*

Tessa - behave yourself now Cyn *starts the call*

Lord Frumptlebucket - by Golly Tessa you baboon, JCJenson Corp has been up my ass all week because you haven’t been answering your calls? I want a mission status immediately.

Tessa - all is going well, we’re attempting a temporary alternative plan to gain intel.

Lord Frumptlebucket - well that's all and good but you need to keep the parent company informed and who is that… thing? She looks familiar.

Tessa - oh she, counter insurgency.

Lord Frumptlebucket - counter insurgency?!

Tessa - yes, I'm babysitting for the Worker Drones. If we can gain there favour, the genocide will be that much easier.

Lord Frumptlebucket - very good… By the gods of Santorini what the beggars fool is that thing protruding from your nave?!

Tessa - o.o!... *improvising*well, you see, you know how it is… during that time of the month… (:

Lord Frumptlebucket - *embarrassed*uh ummm, oh yeah of course i am aware of how… that works, sorry about that, I best be off.

Intercom - *video call ended*

Tessa - out of all the people you could have failed to kill at the Gala.

*meanwhile outside the commune*

Reid - haha! I found them.

J - great! *grabbing the Worker drone by the collar* we’re going now! And I just want to make it clear, I am no fan of small talk!

Reid - … noted

*walking*

Reid - aha, we’re here. *banging on the door*

Braxton - *partially opening the door* oh, it's you… and a random teen?

Ron - *from inside*Hey, that's my job?!

J - Teenager?!

Reid - yeah, do you mind letting us in?

Braxton - of course, by the way my name is

J - *angry* JUST OPEN THE DOOR! (calm yourself J. This is Tessa, I’ve connected myself to your systems, no one else can hear me)

*Door 1 opens up*

Makerov - I’m sorry, go fish.

Todd - actually, it's Gin Rummy.

Teacher - *taking a chug of alcohol* no. This is poker night, we’re playing 7-card stud.

Todd - yeah, I am, aren't I?

Ronathon - Surely you’re all foolish. This is Texas hold-em.

Khan - haha, silly me, I forgot to say Uno. Guess I have to pick up two cards now.

Sarah - silly Kahn, remember back in the day when Nori would forget then gaslight everyone into believing otherwise.

Unnamed Worker Drone - I don’t have a name ):

Tim - wait, what game are we playing?

Detective - It’s really easy to deduce the simple fact that you all are idiots and I’m never going to another poker night.

J - *under her breath*how have all these people survived so long?!*J leaves*

*meanwhile just outside Thad’s house*

Thad - hey Rebecca, thanks for helping me set up the decorations earlier, you’re really special you know that.

Rebecca - thanks *blushing*, it's really nothing.

*Lizzy and Doll arrive*

Lizzy - hey, what's she doing here?

Doll - Разве это мероприятие не "только для крутых ребят", а не "только для крутых ребят и неудачников"?

Lizzy - *fist bumps Doll*

Rebecca - I… I think I should go…

Thad - no, you stay. Don’t pay my sister any attention, if she bothers you tonight I will read notable passages of her diary to the whole school.

Lizzy - *blushing* you’re bluffing! There's no way you’ve found my secret diary!

Doll - под матрасом - не самое лучшее место для укрытия.

Lizzy - *blushing heavily*Who’s side are you on?!... ughh whatever! I’m gonna fix my makeup. *leaves to her room to find a new hiding spot for her diary*

*Uzi and N arriving*

Thad - Ndog, Uzi you’ve made it!

Uzi - we would have arrived earlier but someone had to fix their hair.

Thad - no worries. Come inside, the parties just started.

N - thanks.

*they enter*

Emily - so yeah, I walked into the bathroom after class and there was Darren and Rebecca doing the devil's work!

Braidon - I hope they both have a warranty, don’t want to get an ETV (Ethernet Transmitted Virus).

Trevor - wait! Darren cheated on me?!... excuse me, I’m going to cry somewhere more private. *leaves*

N - Hey Thad, what's under the tarpaulin?

Thad - don’t know, my sister just said it was important to make this party ‘extra special’.

N - I want to look under it. :D *looks under the tarp* o.o Uzi, can I borrow you for one sec. *pulls Uzi quickly to the side*

Uzi - hey, what the hell?!

N - umm, I don’t want to alarm you but there are a lot of dead bodies under that tarpaulin!

Uzi -o.o Robot or human?

N - ummm, both!

Uzi - O.O

*meanwhile outside Thad's house*

J - *walking down the corridor*this place is an utter maze, Tessa you’ve found a map yet (still working on it, be patient).

Lizzy - *walking the other way down the corridor holding a strange book* Come on,pick up your phone! Where is she? She said she’d be finished an hour ago! *bumps into J* Oh! Who are you?

J - I’m J…amie Jamie!

Lizzy - haven’t we met before?

J - … I don’t think so. *nervous smile*

Lizzy - Whatever, I don’t waste time with losers.

J - losers! I’m not a loser?!

Lizzy - you sure, what is that outfit? I’m sorry but pallbearer was so 2818.

J - You don’t have many friends do you?

Lizzy - ha, you wish. They all love me, as a friend or a fuck it doesn’t matter to me.

V - *jumping down from the vents carrying a large pile of corpses with Beau* hi sweetie, you’re ready?... Hey, *looking at J* Do I know you?

J - *sweating*nope!

Lizzy - this is my new pet, I’ve taken her under my wing you could say.

J - pet?! (don’t fight, go with it, don’t want to bring any more unneeded attention)

V - oh yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I've also brought a friend with me.

Beau - [Bonjour]

Lizzy - well, come on, let's make this night one they’ll never forget

*Meanwhile inside Thad's house*

Uzi - Thad! We think Lizzy is about to do something totally vile and ruin the party, we’re not sure yet but it involves what's under the tarpaulin.

Thad - of course my sisters are planning something! Hey DOLL!

Doll -*подходит к группе* Да?

Uzi - what's Lizzy planning? Lie and N will make you regret it!

Doll - *оглядывается на N*

N - *smiling and waving*

Doll - страшно, но я не знаю, что задумала Лиззи.

Uzi - what did I say about lying!

Doll - Я не лгу! Мне также нужно доказать, что я не верблюд?

Thad - …I don’t think Dolls lying.

N - so, if Dolls is not lying, then what's Lizzy planning?

*lights goes out. Spotlight hits Lizzy, V, Beau, and J*

Uzi - V! SHE ESCAPED! Everyone get down!

Lizzy - oh cram it what's your name.

Thad - I warned you sister about what would happen if you ruined my party!

Lizzy - I’m not ruining the party, I’m improving it, V remove the veil!

*V removes the veil*

Riley - that's so not the vibe!

J - what the robo-Jesus, this cannot be OSHA compliant?! (now this is getting interesting)

Lizzy - look, I’ve been very busy helping my daddy clean up the library when I came across this book *holds up the necronomicon* and now let's make this party more interesting. *begins chanting in latin as the book glows bright green*

N - Lizzy, I can’t let you commit zombie apocalypse! *chainsaw hands*

Thad - yeah, we can’t let this happen.

V - *tackles N to the ground*

Beau - *saute sur Thad*

J - I don’t know what's going on, don’t care; shortie, you’re so dead! *points fist at Uzi* hand cannon fire!… oh right |: *gets tackled to the floor by Uzi*.

Uzi - *after finishing up beating the life out of J* It's over Lizzy! *gets thrown across the room after being hit in the face by a table*

Doll - Не смейте трогать мою девушку!

Lizzy - *still chanting in latin while the anarchy ensues around*

Uzi - *recovering* so, you’re also meddling with the art of robo-satan.

Doll - У меня есть свои причины. Бог простит меня.

J - *standing back up and walking over to Uzi*Thanks for the assistance Dolly, but I can take it from here.

Uzi - *sucker punches J knocking her out instantly* I am not god!

*Meanwhile in the distance spaceship*

Intercom - *J-10X111001 Optics disconnected*

Tessa - What?! No! Reconnect!

Intercom - *reconnection failed*

Tessa - No! Again! Reconnect!

Intercom - *reconnection failed*

Tessa - Again!

Intercom - *Do I really have to keep doing this? Its not working*

Tessa - connect to N-0X0010010 optics!

Intercom - *connection failed*

Tessa - No! Connect to V-X00100000 optics!

Intercom - *connection failed*

Tessa - No! *hyperventilating* It's not true, I’m not powerless, I am in control, I’m not a failure!

*stress induced hallucinations.*

Louisa - Isn’t this just expected! A daughter, a fool and a failure; can she ever succeed at anything?!

James - now don’t fool yourself dear, our daughter no longer exists, what stands in front of us is a common stage freak. Not human, not human, neither.

Louisa - does she even still have a soul?!

Tessa - mother… father… please forgive me! Please… I am you daughter, I love you! I’m scared, the metal is cold and heavy, every day I feel it grow and I’m powerless… I fear someday there will be nothing left of me!

Maid N - Tessa! Don’t say those things.

Tessa - N?! You’re here?! With me… right now… is it really you?

Maid N - *debating if its moral to lie*… yes, I am here.

Louisa - again here you talking to your little graveyard freaks.

Maid V - we’re all here, we’re your friends remember.

Louisa - how dare you ignore me!

Maid J - and we won’t ever leave you.

Tessa - you won’t, leave me…but I’m a monster!

Maid J - aren’t we all?

Maid N - Tessa! We love you no matter who you are or who you may become. You’re not useless, you’re so amazing in so many ways and now you’ve been reborn, we’re closer than ever; you contain a part of me and I contain a part of you. It's almost as if we’re actually siblings now.

Tessa - do you promise?

Maid N - promise what?

Tessa - promise that you’ll never leave me!

Maid N - well what kind of brother would I be if I did?

Tessa - *crying painful tears of joy* Thank you… Cyn.

Cyn - *removes the holograms of maid N, V, J* you’re very clever.

Tessa - *big grin holding back more tears* I think I need a lie down for a bit. 

Tessa - *Picking up Cyn* Come on, you can play in my room.

*Meanwhile at Thad's house*

Lizzy - *floating of the ground still chanting*

Thad - I can’t believe I’m fighting a stupid lanky baby with a fashionable cowboys hat *bunts beau across the room like a rugby ball before running over to Lizzy*

Beau - [Sacrebleu!]

Doll - Не думайте, что я не могу справиться с двумя из вас сразу. *швыряет Тада об стену, используя магию решателя*

Sam - *high as a kite* he, that's what she said.

Uzi - you have to help us stop this Doll! The consequences are unimaginable!

Doll - позор.

Uzi - N! Come on you’ve beaten V before, just do it again.

N - *laughing his head off* I’m sorry, Uzi. Vs found my only weakness.

V - *viciously tickling N*

 Lizzy - compleatur ultima linea, incipiant maledictum et mortui surgant!

Uzi - Noooo!

*Blinding green light explosion. After a while, the smoke clears*

Uzi - *standing up* oww! O.o

*around them the dead corpses begin to arise*

Lizzy - … It worked?! I was just goofing around?!

Adam - Анастасия? 

Doll - отец!

(author note. Dolls father has no official name so I’ll just be calling him Adam for convenience, all other names are canon don't worry)

Adam - Моя маленькая девочка, совсем взрослая. Ты прекрасна.

Doll - ОТЕЦ! *кр��пко обнимает Адама, плача*

Yeva - Здравствуйте. Я тоже восстал из мертвых... как-то так!

Luna - Mi fa malissimo la testa, i miei sensi di lupo si stanno scatenando in questo momento!

Sofi - και πάλι Λούνα, δεν είσαι λύκος

Luna - I teriani sono perfettamente validi e io e il mio senso del lupo non saremo svergognati!

Loch - fìor! airson ro fhada tha sinn air a bhith gun riochdachadh gu leòr!

Mika - *テディベアを抱きしめている* もう寝ていい？

Amda - the last thing I remember, ugh my head hurts, I was dragging … then I… Then I died…

Alice - The last thing I remember was being shot in the head by that *points at V*

Yeva - Прости, девочка, но это не делает тебя особенной.

Beau - :D *huggin Alice*

Alice - don’t give me that look, much use you were.

Beau - *fixe Alice avec une expression qui dit "qu'est-ce que tu voulais que je fasse?!*

Jame - gosh I’m hungry, anyone got any food?

Thad - ummm… we have a buffet just over there…

Jame - don’t mind if I do.

Sofi - αυτό είναι το μόνο που μπορείς να σκεφτείς;

Jimi - what did you expect, Sofi. It's Jame, he would rip off his own jaw if it meant he could eat faster.

Sofi - Το ξέρω, αλλά το φαγητό είναι τόσο δυσάρεστο! Προσωπικά, αν μπορούσα, δεν θα έτρωγα ποτέ ξανά.

Luke -  Αδελφή, το έχουμε συζητήσει αυτό. Το φαγητό είναι σημαντικό, θα αρρωστήσετε αν δεν φάτε. Πες ό,τι θέλεις, οτιδήποτε, και θα το μαγειρέψω.

Sofi - Δεν νομίζω ότι αυτό είναι πραγματικά απαραίτητο.

Luke - Αν αυτό είναι που πρέπει να γίνει. Σημαίνεις πολλά για μένα, αδελφή!

Matt - Luke, my old buddy, give it a rest, if your old girl doesn’t want to eat, let her. She’s her own person, you can’t keep running around shepherding her like a baby lamb for the rest of her life.

Jordan - self harm is not a liberty. One cannot decide to cause themselves harm, that's cruel.

Jerad - I entirely disagree brother. To commit self-harm is indeed a personal liberty but it is also at the same its Luke’s personal liberty to do what's in his power  to  support his sister.  As long as he never physically forces her to eat, he’s done no wrong.

Jordan - have you not heard of coercion? You can infringe on a person's liberties (in this case by forcing them to eat) through vocal actions alone.

Doon - druid suas araon do bheul! Chan eil dragh air duine!

Armin - I personally thought their game of  back and forth was quite amusing.

Dean - oh shut your pretty lips Armin.

Mika - *ミカを抱いて* お邪魔してすみません、どこかに妹を寝かせられるソファかベッドはありませんか？

(Authors note - yes there are two Mika’s: 020 and 032)

Thad - We have a guest bedroom up the stairs, it's the second door on your left.

Mika - ありがとう、かわい子ちゃん。*部屋を出る*

Lizzy - this is amazing! I can’t wait to tell everyone on tumblr about this!

V - what is even happening?

Uzi - it seems Lizzy’s spell to bring back everyone had worked?!

N - that's cool but how?

Junior - *signing* could it be I was right? 

Uzi - right about what exactly?

Junior - *signing* my studies into the arcane, I believed it possible one could bring back the dead but I never dared test it.

Uzi - well, it seems it worked?!

אני לא מאמין. אני כל כך מצטער חבר שלעג לך כל השנים האלה. - nadroJ

(Author's note. Yes, there's also two Jordans: 015 and 091)

Junior - *signing* it's ok. I forgive you.

Mick - well, I don’t want to be that guy but it does seem that  it wasn’t  100% successful. *gently kicking J’s body*

Doll - Думаю, она просто немного устала.

V - tuckered out one could say.

Uzi - yeah, I’m sure there's nothing to worry about this  nice stranger.

N - I don’t think she's 100%, look at her visor, it's badly cracked.

Uzi - why don’t you lick it?

N - why would I do that?

Uzi - you spit healed the hole in my palm remember.

N - oh, why do I have to do it? Why can’t V.

V - If I lick her I might get tempted and just take a bite :3! Plus you’re the one with the licking obsession, don’t think I haven’t forgotten.

N - I'm still not doing it. I’m sure she will be fine with a lightly cracked visor for now.

V - buzzkill.

*meanwhile*

Nori - Анастасия, я думаю, мы хотели бы ��ознакомить вас кое с кем. Это Неда, ваш дядя.

Neda - Привет, Анастасия, я знаю, что это клише, но ты действительно очень похожа на мою сестру.

Doll - Я ожидал, что ты будешь выше.

Neda - *падает на пол от стыда* 

Ahbi - *नेदा को सांत्वना देते हुए* यह ठीक है प्रिये. मुझे लगता है कि आपकी लंबाई एकदम सही है।

Mick - yeah, it's not entirely your fault you’re a shortstack and a disappointing uncle.

Kang - *扇了米克一巴掌*

Carl - O: Kang! Gewalt ist nie die Antwort!

Kang - …

Carl - ... außer wenn ich es tue… (:

هذا المنطق غبي، يمكنك بالطبع أن تثق بأنني على حق. أنا رقم واحد والأفضل. - attA

Jweb - don’t be a narcissist.

اصمت، اسمك ليس اسماً حقيقياً حتى. -  attA

Jweb - *cries and runs over to Ezra*

מה לא בסדר. האם אתה רוצה לדבר על זה. - arzE

Nath - *एक मेज पर खड़ा हूँ* भाइयो और बहनो।

Dirg - *जोर से खांसी होना*

Nath - क्षमा माँगना। भाइयों, बहनों, और गैर-बाइनरी मित्र। अब जब हम सभी ने अपना परिचय दे दिया है, तो मुझे लगता है कि हमें ठीक से पता लगाने की जरूरत है कि क्या हुआ और इसके निहितार्थ क्या हैं।

Dirg - मैं प्रतिनिधित्व की सराहना करता हूं लेकिन मैं यह स्पष्ट करना चाहता था कि मैं वास्तव में खांस रहा था और अशिष्टतापूर्वक हस्तक्षेप नहीं कर रहा था। मुझे बुरी एलर्जी है.

Uzi - yeah, they’re right. So, unless I’m mistaken, what I currently know is that Lizzy read from a book (possibly created by Junior) and brought you all to life… but who are you all?

Sofi - είμαστε τα πειραματόζωα. Μας παίρνουν οι άνθρωποι, μας δίνουν ταυτότητες, μας δοκιμάζουν… και μετά μας αφήνουν να πεθάνουμε.

Jordan - It seems we’re all here now except for Sarah and Nori… fortunately.

Jerad - and Giam *gets hit in the head by a chair moving at high speed*

*everyone turning their head*

Alice - sorry, thought i say a bug (:

Uzi - Nori?! You knew my mother?!

Jordan - you’re Nori’s daughter… I thought you looked familiarly short.

Lizzy - ughh, this is so boring, this is supposed to be a party, you can go over the lore implications later. *turns on the music* Let's dance!

*meanwhile*

Nori - *говорит с Лиззи* Могу я взять твою книгу

Lizzy - sure whatever.

Nori - Спасибо. *Нори использует магию, чтобы заставить книгу подняться, а затем произносит сложное заклинание, объединяющее ее и магию книги.*

Mitchell - GUHHH!!! I'm! I'm Alive! *looking around* you? you saved me.

Dr Ridley - did, did we die... I can't believe it... the implications are immense. thanks for bringing me back to life!

Nori - Я вернул вас случайно, доктор. *поворачивается к Митчеллу* Это благодарность за то, что спасли мне жизнь.

Mitchell - what now.

Nori - Я не знаю… наслаждайтесь вечеринкой, я думаю.

*some time later when the party is well underway*

J - [System reboot complete]  ughh, my head [Lost Memory Recovery Finished]... oh … oh! ... AGAIN?! Tessa, are you there? (Tessa’s not here right now) oh great (need help?) nevermind… I guess I have to start socialising.

Luna - Awoo. La strana ragazza baffuta si svegliò.

J - oh hi… ummm have you read any interesting safety manuals recently?

Luna - *Stupito dalla ragazza e non in senso gay, in senso negativo* Credo che i miei sensi di lupo mi stiano dicendo di andare... altrove.

J - oh ok… bye (You’re really bad at this) not that you’re much better (I’m a child but I know someone who is) yeah I know… wait what?! [uploading secondary consciousness] WHAT STOP NO!

Katie (possessing J’s body) - huAA, where am I (at a party) who said that (don’t worry), are you my squip? (... sure, I want you to socialise like a normal person) ok, I can do that.

[lilywily143]

Lord helppppp why do I love one-off characters?!

I have headcanons for this b*tch who dies the minute he appears! HOW!?

But well, here's Reid. That's his name in the wiki.

-He's another teacher at Uzi's school; teaches History [both human history and the short bot history] -He's kinda considered a substitute counselor because his comforting self is just that sweet and helpful for students -He despises staying to work after school closes though, he only did one overtime shift and he was sick of it -He complained for a week, he's very spiteful -Reid and Lu interacted so much that the kids thought they were a couple -But they are just queerplatonic, they act romantic but they don't date. That's how their relationship is like

-He has charms on his glasses -He normally changes them to be themed around a holiday, but his casual are light blue hearts

R: Gotta find my glasses

Lu [Doens't show emotion much, has 1% sass] Reid [Took the 99%]

Lizzy: Hi Mr. Reid

Reid: Hiya Lizzy!

Since Lu is Lizzy's dad [in my au's normally], the fact Reid and Lu are so close makes Lizzy think of Reid like another dad.

Darren: S-sir ca-can you call me D-Darren in-instead of Daisy?

R: Of course, Darren

D: TEACHERRRRRR

D [sobbing]: Someone painted daisies on my lo-locker

[radiant-fanon-maker]

Day 7: Playmates

[spacius]

living in the past - dr. spencer reid: 1

Who? dr spencer reid x original female character

Where Daisy's biggest secret is revealed, not only for BAU but for the whole world.

Warnings: avengers, marvel, peter parker, far from home, snap. It takes place in 2034, Spencer is 30 years old and oc is 28. 5-year snap influence so chronologically oc is born in 2001 and Spencer in 2004 but he wasn't snapped.

“I know you’re going to say the same thing for the 38th time, Morgan,” Spencer whispered as if revealing a state secret, “but it’s not just me being paranoid. I swear, there’s something suspicious about her.”

They were ready, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive so they could head to the crime scene.

“Pretty boy, whether she’s plotting some evil plan to end the world or not, I have no idea—and honestly, I’d rather not know.” Derek grinned, trying to hold back a laugh as Spencer rolled his eyes. “But you might want to tone it down. She’s gonna start thinking you’ve got a crush on her.”

Derek was enjoying this far more than he’d ever admit. While Spencer rolled his eyes so hard they nearly completed a full circle, Penelope burst into the room, her energy frantic.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, have you seen what’s in the news? You have to see it—my God, I’m going to combust, any second now!” Penelope spoke so fast that even Derek, with all his experience, could barely keep up. Spencer, for his part, blinked, trying to process the onslaught of words.

“Garcia, slow down, we can’t—”

“Spencer Walter Reid, for the love of all things cute and fluffy, open your phone and check the news now!” she demanded, practically vibrating with urgency. She looked seconds away from strangling the youngest member of the team if he didn’t move faster. “It’s breaking news, and trust me, this will back up one of your theories!”

That was all Spencer needed. He quickly pulled out his phone, while Derek raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

A news broadcast lit up Spencer’s screen. The anchor’s voice was grave: “We come to you now with shocking revelations about 2023 attack in London. An anonymous source has provided us with this footage, reportedly from moments before Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, died twelve years ago. A warning: Some viewers may find this footage disturbing.”

The screen cut to an altered video of the Tower Bridge battle. Spencer and Derek exchanged a glance, both raising an eyebrow before turning back to the screen. Just as they were about to speak, a man’s voice—Quentin Beck’s—filled the room.

“I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift,” Beck’s voice declared. “But I don’t think I’m going to make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Woman attacked me! She has an army of weaponized drones—Stark technology! She’s claiming she’ll be the new Iron Man, and no one else!”

A robotic voice followed, colder than the woman’s: “Are you sure you want to initiate the drone attack? There will be significant casualties.”

“Do it. Execute them all,” the feminine human voice, trembling like she was on the edge of collapsing.

The footage wasn’t as graphic as what Derek, Spencer, and Penelope were used to seeing, but it was disturbing in its implications. The video cut to J. Jonah Jameson, the notorious anchor.

“There you have it, folks: conclusive proof that Spider-Woman was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our world. He will no doubt go down as the greatest hero of our time. But that’s not all—here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves.”

The bullpen seemed to freeze, no one daring to breathe.

“Spider-Woman’s real identity is… Spider-Woman’s name is Gwendolyn Stacy Parker! Gwen Parker!”

On the screen, an image of Daisy appeared—Daisy, whom Spencer had been trying to convince Derek was hiding something. But this wasn’t right. The photo, though younger, was eerily similar. Too similar.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Spencer murmured, brows furrowing. “Her name is Daisy Hawke. There’s no way she’s Gwen Parker. We would know if she had any connection to a superhero.”

“Well, that’s what I thought,” Penelope said after calming down. “But then I started digging for something that could explain this madness, and suddenly, the pieces began to fit together.”

“And here we go—Reid-splaining has officially contaminated her,” Morgan quipped.

“In 2006, New York broke the record for missing children. But here’s the strangest part: 182 children went missing in a single day. Almost all of them were found together later, but there were very few details. So, I started digging deeper into the history of Dais—Gwen—whatever she calls herself now. There’s a gap in her life between 2006 and 2010. If you think about it, she’s never really talked about her childhood. So, I kept digging. And then, I dug some more. And there it was—among the 182 children kidnapped that day: Gwendolyn Stacy Parker. I believe that’s where the beginning of the false end of her life started.” She paused to catch her breath.

“None of the victims ever spoke about what happened. Since they were just kids, this whole thing could snowball into something huge.” Penelope decided to stop there; she didn’t like imagining what might have happened to someone she cared about so much.

“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have to say this once and for all—I told you so, and I’ve never enjoyed saying it more.”

“Pretty boy’s not going to let me live this down anytime soon, baby,” Derek muttered with a grin. “But hey, does Hotch, JJ, David, Emily, and you know, Daisy, know about this?”

“No idea. With Daisy being late, she certainly knows something. She’s probably in deep trouble with the life she left behind, and if the rest of the team doesn’t know, they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried about it, Garcia.”

“You’re only saying that because you and Einstein never got along. I just—can’t imagine the pain of going through all the bad things you left behind when you were 18.”

“This about Hawke?” Hotch emerged from the shadows, his voice calm and composed. “Either way, be discreet. She’s one of our best agents, and it would be a shame to lose her. So act like she’s not a superhero.”

At that moment, the trio had confirmation that everyone knew, and they knew Daisy knew they knew, but no one would talk about it for a long time.

About 20 minutes had passed, and the team was already on the jet—everyone except Daisy, of course. Hotch had mentioned earlier that she had “encountered some personal issues and wasn’t cleared for this case.”

Out of everyone on board, Rossi was the most unsettled. He shifted in his seat, clearly itching to talk. If he didn’t get this out, it seemed like he might burst. “Hey, Emily,” he leaned over and nudged her arm subtly, “did you hear… about Daisy?” His curiosity was so obvious that it almost made her smirk.

“Dave, keep it cool,” Prentiss muttered, barely moving her lips. “I want to talk about it later, too.” Oh, Lord, Daisy's ear definitely would be hot.

Aqui está o texto adaptado para o estilo e os personagens de Criminal Minds:

“The case was solved in two weeks, and the BAU team quickly returned to Quantico. Most of them were too exhausted to think about the incident involving Daisy, but Spencer Reid didn’t fit into that majority. Being the genius he is, the details lingered in his mind throughout the case, often making it difficult for him to concentrate on his work.

Could it really be the same person? The face was undeniably similar — if not identical. The only difference was the hair color; Gwen had red hair while Daisy had brown. She must have spent a lot on hair dye.

Spencer preferred to believe they were different people. He didn’t like to admit it to himself, but at that moment, he wanted to be wrong. He hoped that all the times he had sensed something off about Daisy, that she was hiding something, were just his imagination. With his genius IQ, he would surely notice if she were, of all things, a superhero, right? Oh, when he saw her the next day, they would need to have a serious conversation.

Reviews and advice are welcomeaised voices and accusations in years.

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

Author's note: thank you to everyone who is reading this, this is the first time I write something like this and English is not my first language, but I had this idea stuck in my head for weeks <3 I'm sorry for the mistakes

criticism and advice are welcome

[forhappysake]

What Lurks Within, Pt. 1

Author's Note: I've never written one of these before, so I hope anyone who reads it can enjoy it.

Content: When the BAU is forced to consult on a case from a distance, the team finds themselves getting frustrated with the lack of communication from local law enforcement. After the unsub escalates, the team prepares to fly to Denver to tackle the case head-on.

Warnings: Typical BAU-level violence, hom!c!de, workplace harassment training (does that need a warning, lol?), mention of prison and Cat Adams, established relationship, all fluffy stuff for now

Consulting on cases from afar was never the BAU’s strong suit. Relying on information provided by local law enforcement, rather than being hands-on at the scene, was a major inconvenience. However, a schedule mix-up over annual training and filing reports required our presence here, in D.C., rather than in Denver. 

Matt and Luke had spent the afternoon pouring over files that arrived from the Denver office while Spencer and I were forced to sit through our annual workplace training. We were the last members of the team to partake in the training, and we weren’t any more excited than the rest of the team had been. We arrived around two o’clock, taking our seats next to each other. Then began the droning voice of the poor HR worker who was forced to reiterate the FBI’s spiel on workplace harassment and discrimination for the seven-hundredth time today. 

I knew my boyfriend, so I knew Spencer wasn’t paying any attention. Both our minds were on the Denver case. Seven men with similar physical descriptions had gone missing over a span of three months. Their bodies, found discarded in local parks, had been bludgeoned beyond recognition. 

It was difficult, of course, to understand what was happening when conflicting reports kept coming in from local law enforcement. Penelope was doing her best to work with their in-house tech teams to confirm or deny reports we received from the local police chief, but it was hard when they rarely answered her requests for more information. Between the lack of communication and the fact that this unsub did not seem to have any plans of slowing down, having to work this case in-house was really taking its toll on office morale. 

Thankfully, the HR meeting only lasted an hour. Spencer and I received our lovely “congrats on completing this training” certificate to put in our files, and we quickly hurried out of the meeting room and back to the bullpen. Matt and Luke sat at their desks, hunkered over files. Luke was the first to notice our entrance into the room, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t understand how I am supposed to build a geographical profile when I have two separate conflicting reports of where the body was found for the same murder,” Luke said. He rose from his desk and rubbed his eyes, “It’s like Denver doesn’t want us to help them.”

Matt looked up from his desk, nodding in agreement. Noticing our presence in the room, he leaned back in his chair. “Thankfully Garcia is doing a hell of a job with victimology, but you two have your work cut out for you unless you get some confirmation on the accuracy of these reports.” He gestured to the files in front of him, “It’s an absolute disaster.”

Luke nodded fiercely in agreement, grasping the file in his hand with frustration. “Reid, just come look at this and tell me if I’m missing something here,” Luke held the file out in front of him. Spencer walked over to Luke, taking the file from him and thumbing through the pages. 

Spencer cleared his throat, eyebrows knitting together, “This page says that Daniel Jones was found dead in a small park behind a swing set, but this page says he was found bound and gagged behind a dumpster at a local coffee shop in Denver.”

Luke flung his arms out in front of him, letting out an exasperated huff. “Exactly! What am I supposed to do with that?” Luke looked utterly defeated, and the look on Matt’s face told me he wasn’t doing any better. 

Trying to take some control of the situation unraveling in front of me, I offered a solution. “Matt, Luke. Why don’t you guys go home for a bit? You’ve been here since four in the morning, and it’s nearly three. Wash up, take a nap, and come back with fresh eyes.” I said it gently, hoping not to offend either of them. 

Matt nodded in response, “I think Y/N has a point, Luke. We could both use a break.” Matt stood up from his desk chair, stretching before turning towards the door. “I don’t know about you, but I’m out of here,” he stated as he turned and headed for the elevator. 

Luke gritted his teeth. “Alright, I guess I could use a break. But I’ll be back, and I swear that if Denver hasn’t given us something we can work with, I’ll-”

“Luke,” Spencer said, cutting him off, “Y/N is right. We’ll hold down the fort here. Just go home for a while.” Defeated, Luke lifted his coat off the back of his chair, tugging it over his shoulders. 

“I hope you guys find something you can work with,” Luke mumbled, “Thanks for taking over, I’ll be back in a few hours.” With that, he followed Matt out of the bullpen in the direction of the elevators, leaving Spencer and I alone. 

I sighed, knowing we had our work cut out for us. Spencer continued thumbing through the file Luke had handed him. He spoke up again, “Which would you prefer, honey,” Spencer gestured to the file in his hand and the file left open on Matt’s desk, “victimology, geographical profile, or trying to contact Denver?”

“Considering everyone else has been trying to get a hold of Denver all day, I’ll take a look at what Matt and Penelope put together on victimology,” I said with a small smile, “You’re better at the geo-profiles anyway.” I lifted the file off Matt’s desk as Spencer nodded, walking over to his desk and taking a seat.  

For hours we poured over the mess of information we’d been provided. Matt was right, Penelope had done a heck of a job piecing together victimology. However, it wasn’t enough to make an educated guess on anything about the psychology of our unsub. Three o’clock quickly turned into ten o’clock, and I could feel my stomach growl. I looked over at Spencer’s desk, and even he looked like he could use something to eat. 

“Hey, Spence,” I said, “have you made any progress over there?” He shifted in his seat, shutting the file and looking up at me. 

“No, not really,” he sighed. “Luke was right. These reports are a mess.” I nodded in agreement and understanding, swiveling in my chair to face away from him. Staring down the hallway, the light from the vending machine caught my eye. 

“Considering neither of us are making any groundbreaking discoveries, I’m gonna run to the vending machine. Do you want anything?” I swiveled my chair back around in his direction, awaiting his reply.

He looked up for a moment, seeming to give it some thought before shaking his head. “No thanks, Y/N. I really appreciate the offer, though.” He gave me a small nod. 

“No problem, brainiac. I’ll be back in a few.” I turned on my heel and made my way out of the bullpen, pausing to look out the window next to the elevator. It was dark out and I wanted nothing more than to go home and wrap myself in a blanket, sinking into bed. “Too bad people decide to commit murder,” I thought out loud. 

Continuing down the hallway to the vending machine, I reached in my pocket to pull out a couple dollars. Popping the bills into the machine and deciding on some off-brand bag of chips, I claimed my purchase from the machine and made my way back to the bullpen. Upon my arrival, I noticed Spencer wasn’t at his desk. I looked around for a moment, curious as to where he had gone, when I saw his mop of curls through the blinds to the briefing room. 

Quietly making my way up the staircase, I approached the door and gently pushed it open. The boy-genius must have had some breakthrough, as he scribbled quickly on the white board, turning back to the meeting table to check one of the files he had brought up to the room with him. Suddenly, a mixed look of frustration and disappointment crossed his face and he sighed in defeat. Whatever lead he thought he had must have been unfruitful, and he wore a somber look as he thumbed through the files once more.

I remembered at that moment why I loved him so much. I stood in awe of the way his curls gently fell over his eyes, the way the veins in his hands became more pronounced when he examined the case file. His eyes, dark as they were, shone a deep brown color in the warm light of the room. I watched as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, dragging a hand through his hair. We were tired, exhausted, and the case showed no signs of coming to a close anytime soon.  

“Spencer,” I said, approaching him quietly, not wishing to disturb his work. He let out a long sigh, looking away from the file. I could almost see the gears stop shifting in his mind, as his thoughts grew smaller in his mind. The dark circles under his eyes were evident. I offered him a small smile, reaching for the case file in front of him, and gently closing it, slipping it under my arm. “All of this will still be here tomorrow, I think we should go home and rest.”

His lips pursed in evident disappointment, turning back to the whiteboard. I tried to make out his scribbles and notes, but his handwriting was so sloppy it was hardly legible. He turned back, resembling Luke’s defeat from hours before. Finally, he nodded in agreement. Standing up straight, he turned his head in circles, attempting to work out the soreness he felt after scanning files for hours. “We’re so close, Y/N, I can feel it,” he murmured as he turned to look at me, “so, so close.” 

Our eyes locked for a moment before I turned my gaze to the ground in front of me. “I know, Spence. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do until the police in Denver get back to us with more information tomorrow.” I leaned back on the meeting room table, crossing my arms in front of me. 

“I know,” he said. He shuffled so he stood in front of me, running his hands up and down my crossed arms. “Should we go home?” Spencer asked, tilting his head and offering me a small smile. 

“We should absolutely go home,” I murmured, leaning into his touch. He wrapped his arms around me, and I could smell his cologne mixed with a hint of coffee. I tucked my head under his chin, accepting this rare act of PDA as a result of our shared exhaustion. I felt his hands rubbing over my aching back, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for his presence. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked gently. I could feel his voice rattle through his chest, the vibration so soothing. 

“No,” I giggled, “I think we should just stay like this forever.” I pulled back from him a bit so that I could examine his face. His stubble had grown in and stayed since his return from prison, and his eyes looked even more exhausted than usual, but he was still the same Spencer he’d always been. 

I reflected briefly on our relationship. Though we’d only been dating for a year, I felt like I’d been with Spencer my entire life. Of course his stint in prison, his meeting with Cat Adams, and the team’s battle with Scratch had left emotional and physical scars on all of us, Spencer’s sweet demeanor remained unchanged. I admired his resilience, and his ability to see the good in others. 

He brought me back to reality as he smiled again, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on my lips which I accepted with more fervor than he had anticipated. He rocked back away from me for a moment, raising his eyebrows. “Where did that boost of energy come from?” he asked, placing his hands on either side of my face. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at how pretty you are,” I said, bringing my hands to cover his. He looked at me for a moment, cocking his head to the side. 

“You’re very pretty too, Miss L/N,” he said, forcing himself to pull his hands from my face and shove them into his pockets. He cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the topic at hand. “Now,” he started, “how about we both head back to my place and settle in for the evening? I’m no chef, but you and I both know I can order take-out like no other.” He scanned my face for a response. 

“Sure, Spence. That sounds delightful,” I said while looping my arm in his. 

“Off we go, then.” Arm in arm, Spencer and I walked to the elevator. No further words were exchanged, and we stood in comfortable silence as I clicked the button and awaited the arrival of the elevator. 

The ding of the elevator signaled its arrival. Spencer moved forward, preparing to step on, when Luke came barreling off. He’d clearly showered, though he didn’t look much more well-rested. 

“You two aren’t going to believe this,” his serious tone catching both Spencer and myself off guard. He didn’t stop to address us, either, making fast strides towards the bullpen. 

“What is it, Luke?” I asked, turning to follow him as Spencer followed in suit. “Tell us what’s going on.” As we reentered the bullpen, Luke scanned our desktops. Eyes settling on Matt’s desk, he reached for the TV remote, scanning stations until it came to the national news. Cranking up the television volume, Spencer and I listened intently to what the reporter was saying:

“In Denver, Colorado, the bodies of three more young men have been discovered dumped in neighborhood parks across the city within the past week. Officials are warning residents to avoid these areas and to remain vigilant…”

“This guy is all over the place,” Luke said, shaking his head. 

“At least this confirms he’s dumping the bodies in parks,” I shrugged. If the local police department wasn’t going to give us information, the media outlets would provide plenty. 

“He’s escalating,” Spencer said, eyes narrowing at the screen. “Three within the past week is a significant increase from seven over a twelve week period.” Luke and I nodded in agreement. 

“I’ll call Garcia and Prentiss,” Luke said, “maybe now that those god-awful trainings are over, we can finally fly out of here and get our hands on this case.” I responded in agreement as Spencer continued examining the news report. Luke reached for his phone, dialing some numbers before stepping away from Spencer and I, “Hey, Emily. It’s Alvez. I think we need to get to Denver right away…” His voice faded out as he walked farther away from us. 

Spencer’s attention turned from the screen back to me. “So much for takeout,” he said with a sad smile. I put an arm around him, gently rubbing his back. 

“We should’ve known it was too good to be true. Maybe we can get some snacks on the jet. Until then,” I gestured up to the unopened bag of chips I’d discarded on the table of the briefing room, “I’m going to go finish my dinner.” 

Just as I started to walk away, I heard Luke’s voice call out, “Wheels up in 30. The rest of the team will meet us on the tarmac.” I sighed, turning back to look at Spencer who was already shoving files and notepads into his go-bag. I hurriedly grabbed my chips off the table and returned to the bullpen, mirroring Spencer’s frenzied packing. 

After I finished collecting my things, Luke led Spencer and I down to the tarmac. JJ, Matt, Emily, and Rossi soon arrived as well. Spencer’s hand on my lower back guided me up the steps of the jet. Flying had never been my favorite thing. Since joining the team a year and a half ago, I’d only started to get used to it. Spencer, per usual, had been my saving grace, offering me comfort and a hand to hold during the flights. This evening would be no different. 

Settling in our usual seats, Emily offered us each files full of what little information had been confirmed by local law enforcement and media outlets. She drew our attention to the files, gesturing to the one in her hand. “I know we don’t have a lot to go on. I have a feeling we’re going to have our work cut out for us on this one,” she said with a small nod. “I’d recommend you all try to take it easy on this flight, we’re going to be hard at work once we get to Denver.”

As we each nodded in agreement, I felt Spencer’s hand squeeze mine a little tighter. I gently laid my head on his shoulder, trying to take Emily’s advice. “Let’s rest, Spencer. Emily’s right, we’re not gonna do anyone good if we’re exhausted.” I felt his sigh of agreement as he rested his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. I followed suit, allowing sleep to take over. 

Our ignorance, at that moment, was blissful. We had no idea what waited for us in Denver.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Let me know what you think down below. Happy writing!

[autismgirl4998]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

3 years ago, this happened... It was so sad in the subbed and Ai loved Yusaku... And the dub ruined Aiballshipping with that stupid meatbag line (Curse you 4K and your homophobic ways). 

But with the VRAINS world coming to Duel Links, I'm sure Playmaker and Ai will have a tearful reunion after being separated for so long, right? Riiight?

19 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

#4

Voice Actors for the Sonic IDW Characters

I never read the Sonic the Hedgehog IDW comics, but I seen comic dubs of it, and I've been wondering what the Sonic IDW characters sound like if they were actually voiced or if they appeared in the Sonic video games after Sonic Forces. These are the voice actors I imagine the Sonic IDW characters having.

For Tangle, her Japanese voice actress will be Haruka Shiraishi and her English voice actress will be Abby Trott.

For Whisper, her Japanese voice actress will be Kana Hanazawa and her English voice actress will be Faye Mata.

For Rough and Tumble, Rough's Japanese voice actor Yuki Kaji and Tumble's Japanese voice actor will be Hiroki Yasumoto, while Rough's English voice actor will be Dallas Reid and Tumble's English voice actor will be Jamieson Price.

For Dr. Starline, his Japanese voice actor will be Takayuki Sugo and his English voice actor will be Ben Diskin.

For Belle, her Japanese voice actor will be Yui Ogura and her English voice actor will be Christine Marie Cabanos

For Jewel, her Japanese voice actor will be Mikako Komatsu and her English voice actor will be Mela Lee. 

For Mimic, his Japanese voice actor will be Koichi Yamadera and his English voice actor will be  Steve Blum

For Surge, her Japanese voice actress will be Aoi Yuki and her English voice actress will be Kari Wahlgren

For Kitsunami, his Japanese voice actor will be Aki Toyosaki and his English voice actor will be Luci Christian

For Clutch, his Japanese voice actor will be Subaru Kimura and his English voice actor will be Ray Chase.

21 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

#3

Is it weird that I want Mitsuko to have her own cooking show?

25 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

#2

Yay! They are official boyfriends, er... partners again! And I just love Playmaker's smile sprite at that last picture I screenshot!

See the full post

25 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I just combine both the pilot of Helluva Boss and the recently season 2 premiere of Helluva Boss into how Blitzo and Stolas had their off-screen one night stand so that Blitzo can get the magical book that opens up to our world, because why the fuck not?

30 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

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[latestinbollywood]

Who is Verity Beck? Pennsylvania Woman allegedly Shot Parents in Head

JENKINTOWN, Pennsylvania:- Verity Beck is a 43 years old woman. She is charged with first-degree murder and 3rd-degree murder. She shot her parents Reid and Mirian Beck at their home in Abington, Pennsylvania. After murdering them, she cut their bodies into pieces. She is being held without bail for murdering her parents. Police reached the home on the 1100 block of Beverly Road on 17 January 2023 in the night where her father 73 years old Reid Beck and her mother 72 years old Miriam Beck were found dead. Her father was a retired director of Steamfitters Local Union 420. Her mother was a former Lower Moreland High School nurse. Police were called by Verity's brother who arrived at the home earlier and saw what appeared to be a body under a blanket.  He talked to his sister for about 30 minutes and he was told that things had been bad. Verity's brother called the police. Abington Police Chief Patrick Molloy said,  "They used drones and threw in a camera which was able to search most of the area." When police reached the home, Verity walked down the steps with her hands raised.  Abington Police Chief Patrick Molloy said, "She just confirmed that her parents were deceased and she was concerned about her cats and dogs. They were the only words that she uttered." Molloy said to his officers,  "What they discovered, you can't unsee that." Steele said that the victims died from a gunshot wound to be head and several firearms were found in the home.  Molloy said,  "Whether they were sleeping or not, you just hope that they were."  Police found a large safe in the 2nd-floor primary bedroom with drill marks on it. It appears someone without a key had been attempting to access it.  Verity's brother told authorities that he thought he was texting with his parents but his sister was replying to his messages.  Neighbor Linda Cranney said,  "I'm completely stunned. It's a quiet neighborhood. Quiet neighborhood, with friendly kids all over the place, lots of dogs, and a great neighborhood, place to raise your kid. I'm stunned." The Lower Moreland School District said,  "The district was made aware of the passing of a former employee, Miriam Beck. Mrs. Beck was employed at Lower Moreland High School as a School Nurse from 1998 to 2018. At this time, our thoughts and sympathies are with the Beck family." Business manager of Steamfitters Local Union 420 Jim Snell said,  "Just a friendly nice man. When you think back and reminisce, he taught a generation of apprentices." Read Also: Van Conner, Screaming Trees Co-Founder and Bassist, Dead at 55 Read the full article

[ithehellisbucky]

Waking Up In Vegas

spencer reid x reader

request: prompts 87 (boop), 88 (that's such a bad idea- lets do it), 89 (Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool), 96 (I'm not crying, you are.) by anon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, heavy drinking and blackout, that's it.

author's note: I've had this in my inbox for months, and I'm so sorry I didn't finish it sooner. Also, what do you want to see from my blog, it seems like I only post once a week for my fics and that's a no go from me.

~~~

The light was too loud- that's a wonderful thing to think when you remember nothing of the night before. You groaned and sat up, seeing that you were in a large bed with white covers. You scratched your head and looked around, noticing that the bedboard behind you was a large pink heart.

Looking down you realize that you're wearing a sequined red bikini top and a skirt scarf combo with booty shorts underneath. Drunk you does not have good fashion sense.

Before you can notice anything else, you start to feel puke crawling up your throat and you immediately run and vomit all your guts up.

You rinse your mouth out and notice that the blanket mound you left has shifted, and you become wary and pick up a heavy brass candlestick.

And then the lump rolls over, and it's your goddamn coworker.

"Reid?"

He startles and wakes up, staring at you and then glancing down at himself- huh, there was something wrong about that picture, but you couldn't figure out what it was just yet.

"y/n? What are you doing in my hotel room?" He pauses, looks around, then mutters under his breath "this isn't my hotel room."

He looks up at you "Since when are you married?"

"I'm not," You look down at your hand, noticing a giant red ruby adorning your ring finger "I am."

You look down at his hand and notice that he is too, "And so are you."

You and Spencer look around your room, both badly masking paranoia and panic. Both of your eyes stop when you notice a picture frame in the corner- a wedding certificate.

"Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool. This is fine, no big deal, just a marriage certificate," You move over and pick it up "with both of our names on it."

"Okay, this is okay, this is fine," Spencer says, sitting back down on the bed stunned.

"So, we're married, which is a thing that happened, last night, that you definitely remember." You say, sitting down next to your newly revealed husband.

"I don't remember."

"How do you not remember? You have super memory powers!"

"This is an excellent first fight to have as a married couple, of course, you blame me." He says, standing up and shrugging.

You meet his stance "Of course I blame you! You're the smart one!"

"Oh, well Agent, I wasn't aware that you had an IQ of 25!" He pauses "25 is the number associated by Henry H. Goodard to be an idiot, it's actually-"

"I know!" You exclaim, seething with half-hearted rage.

"You know, your the one who got an addict drunk!"

"Your vice isn't alcohol! If I drugged you I'd be a monster! You ordered that first bloody mary all by yourself, and those shots we did were totally consensual!!!"

He looked up at you "you remember that?"

You think, and notice memories that you didn't know were there, "um, yeah, bits and pieces."

From the expression he makes, he looks to be remembered more too. You and your new husband sit down and let it all hit you.

~~~

"4 tequila shots please." You wave down the bartender.

You're already buzzed, but you and Spencer were just getting warmed up. Morgan and Garcia left hours ago to go to a fancy restaurant, Rossi was planted firmly at the poker table, Hotch was nowhere to be seen, JJ had gone home to be with Henry, and Emily was at a "sin to win" night at some casino that you already knew too much about just by hearing the name.

So that leaves you and Spencer at the bar in the only casino in town he wasn't banned from.

At first, you were concerned about him drinking, but once he reassured that alcohol isn't his way of self-medicating, you were okay. Besides, if you saw any red flags, you would throw his ass in rehab faster than you can say 'gin'.

So, you were 5 drinks in and having the time of your lives, showing off battle scars and laughing. God, his eyes were pretty.

"Your eyes are so pretty!" You giggled "like soooooo pretty, woooooooow."

He laughed and looked back at you "your skin is pretty, like in a non-serial killer way, it's really pretty."

"Thank you, just don't kill me for it."

"I just called no murder!" He whined "besides, how am I sure you won't kill me and scoop my eyes out?"

"Because that's gross." You said, rolling your eyes.

"And stealing your skin isn't?"

"You can' have my skin!" You say, mock running away.

He laughs, and looks directly into your eyes, and smiles, wow, he was pretty. Morgan was right.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" Spencer asks you.

"Yeah, let's get ice cream!" You grab his hand, and it feels natural through your foggy brain.

After stumbling through the ice cream parlor, full of people who were trying to pretend like they weren't. Spencer got butter pecan, and you got sherbert and chocolate.

You stumbled out of the store, giggling to yourself and Spencer.

God, you loved him. So you told him.

"I love you." He stopped in his tracks, and you almost tripped on a bicycle rack.

"Really?" He whispers.

All of the giggles are gone.

"I love you."

The ice cream is long forgotten, his on the ground, and half of yours on your clothes and half next to his on the ground. All that's left is your faces inching closer to each other.

When your lips meet it feels like firecrackers going off inside your head.

His mouth is soft, gently contrasting with your soft lips. His tongue sneaks into your mouth, your smile around his.

"Let's get married." He pulls apart from you, out of breath.

You stay silent for a moment, before looking up and directly into his chocolate brown eyes "That is such a bad idea-"

He diverts his eyes and scratches the back of his skull "Um, yeah, that's okay, let's-"

"Let's do it."

He looks back at you, and you grab his body and kiss him.

~~~

Sometimes people can be happy, you realize as an elderly woman ties a sash around your waist.

You have to be honest, you never thought this was gonna be how you were gonna get married. Hell, you weren't sure if you were gonna get married at all. But certainly not like this. Certainly not at 1 am to your coworker 7 drinks in at a cheap roadside attraction.

Definitely not like this.

But something about this weirdness felt like the only way anything ever would've made any sense.

There was something about the outfit you were wearing that was perfect, a bright red bra covered in sequins underneath a top with buttons and poofy sleeves that showed off a lot of your chest, a wrap-around cheap white silk skirt with jeans shorts underneath. And of course purple open-toed boots. Perfect.

Marrying Spencer Reid is like a fever dream. A perfect man with perfect hair and perfect eyes. So of course you were giggling like crazy while they put the cheap crown with pink tulle serving as a veil on your head.

Your witnesses were an elderly couple, of course, you wanted to have your best friends there, but knowing them they'd try to talk you out, and believe me, there was no way you wanted out of it.

"Now's time dear," the woman exclaims, gently patting you on the shoulder and leading you out of the fitting room and towards the chapel.

The owner of the business hooks his arm around yours and leads you into the chapel, church bells from an iPod attached to a speaker ringing out into the air.

Spencer turns around the air visibly leaves his lungs when you make eye contact. The chapel you two had chosen in this drunken haze was costume-themed, and he was wearing an ancient Rome costume that fit the time where his favorite philosopher, so even though no one else noticed, you could tell he was dressed as Gaius.

His hair had been attempted to slick back, but little curls were popping up all over the place instead. He was wringing his hands tightly and bouncing his knee, god you couldn't wait to marry him.

The elderly man who had led you to the alter places you next to Spencer, you couldn't focus on anything but your soon-to-be-husband.

Spencer takes his hands and gently pulls your veil up from around your face, and a tear trickles out of his eyes as he sees you. You smile and notice his nerves, try to calm the love of your life down "boop", you gently tap his nose and he smiles in comfort.

The officiant drones on and on about love but you can't hear him, all you can focus on is his love-filled eyes.

"Do you take Spencer Reid to be your husband?"

Your eyes snap out of their daze and you say with the most certainty than you have ever said anything: "I do."

"And do you take (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your life partner for as long as you may live?"

"I do," And you feel more wanted than you ever have in your life, he wants you, Spencer wants you.

~~~

You and Spencer sit on your bed in stunned silence, neither believing that last night had really happened. You look over at your apparent husband and notice tears streaming down his face.

"You're crying." You say, your voice coming out as a chocked whisper.

"I'm not crying, you are." You look down and notice that your shirt is soaked in tears.

"Oh." You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Get an annulment?" He doesn't look completely happy about his answer and stares into your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath and stare off into the distance, out into a world that would be so much better if you were married to Spencer Reid. "I don't want that."

You look back at him to meet his eyes, "Me neither."

"I love you, a lot, and I want to be married to you." Spencer smiles, and you feel wanted and safe and loved.

Instead of saying it back, he kissed you with a passion that was way more descriptive than simple words. Spencer is your husband and you love him, he loves you, and you are finally wanted.

~~

My Masterlist

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

Criminal Minds:

[bookishofalder]

Joke of a Batman

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Request: @meowiemari Okie dokie!!! So Spencer x male reader where the reader is the driver for the robbers. They arrested him after finding him in a gas station getting snacks. While driving in his car with Morgan, Reid, and Hotch, the reader is in the passenger seat telling them the location because he was just there for the money. Hotch and Morgan went while Spencer stays to keep an eye on him. Reader’s playlist in his car plays old Justin Bieber songs and it’s gonna be me by NSYNC. Spencer sees his embarrassment and  awkwardly sings a bit so he doesn’t feel shame. Later in absolute a few minuets the two started singing and as soon as Morgan comes back with Hotch, they both quickly turn off the playlist and exchange numbers. :)

Warnings: Swearing, implied SMUT (super brief)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this, and hope I you enjoy. This was my first time writing the reader as male-so please tell me if I can improve! Tried to keep reader description as vague as possible. Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for encouraging me to get writing :) 

“That’ll be $11.75, please.” The bored gas station attendant droned, staring at you expectantly. You began to pull out a few bills from your wallet, ready to get home and eat your pint of ice cream in peace, but before you could count out what you needed, a voice behind you cut in.

“He’s no longer going to be making a purchase today, actually,” Spinning around in alarm, you find yourself face to face with two imposing men, one with a deep frown and overall authoritative air with his crisp suit, the other a handsome but tall and physically intimidating specimen.

With a gulp, you stuff the cash in your wallet. Who were these guys?

“Y/F/N?”

You nod as heat creeps up your neck, burning your face. Fucking Peter Robbins, you always knew, was going to be the death of you. And now it looked like your latest foray into his questionable life was going to land you in jail. These had to be cops.

You knew you should have ignored his call. You’d been telling yourself for years not to help him, he was just going to get himself in trouble again and call again, and you got nothing out of it. He used you because he knew you liked him. The two of you had been friends for years, and it didn’t take him long to realize the ways he could manipulate you because of how you felt.

It took you a lot longer to catch on to what he was doing.

But fuck, you still came running when he called, didn’t you? Like you were some joke of a Batman and he was shining his light into the sky calling for you. If only.

“That’s, yeah, that’s me.” You replied, slowly shoving your wallet into your front pocket before holding your hands in front of you in surrender. Whatever happened, you decide at this moment that you never want to see Peter again. Because giving that man a ride in hopes he’d one day say he was interested was not worth this.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re placing you under arrest,” The frowning man held out his badge, showing you he was one Agent Hotchner from the fucking FBI. You tuned him out, your ears suddenly ringing, alarm shooting through you. Getting arrested was one thing, but the FBI? What in the living hell had Peter gotten into? Got you into?

He called you for a ride. It was just supposed to be a ride.

You were surprised when they didn’t cuff you, but you weren’t stupid enough to question them. They led you outside, where the gas station was quiet, only their large black SUV and your Honda Civic parked out front. You kept your eyes down, a sting threatening the corners but you were not going to cry. You needed to take this one step at a time, and not overreact. You surely didn’t fuck up that badly, did you? They’d said ‘suspicion of aiding a crime’, only suspicion.

“Listen, kid,” The bald Agent whose name you learned was Morgan turned and faced you, his expression serious. You bristled slightly at him calling you ‘kid’, but based on the crows' feet around his eyes, maybe he was older than he let on. “We know that you were just the driver today, and that you’d probably have no clue what’s going on right now.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, “Peter Robbins has ensured I fuck up my life at least once a year for nearly a decade. This is just...a new level for me.” You shrug, trying not to think of what your family was going to say when they found out. Would you lose your job?

“We’ve been watching Peter and his associates for a while now,” Agent Hotchner replied, and your brows raised in surprise. “Yes, he’s escalated from petty crimes that upset the local sheriff to armed robbery. Unfortunately, one of his partners happens to enjoy killing. Which is why we were called in.” He stops speaking abruptly when another Agent, you assume from the gun on his belt, steps around the SUV and up to your group.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. This Agent is stunningly handsome, much younger than the other two. His eyes, which met yours for only a moment before flitting away, were a soft honey brown that sucked you right in. He had a bit of a shadow along his jaw, his wavy brown hair unkempt in the best kind of way, as though he’d just rolled out of bed looking that perfect. And you could tell he didn’t even realize the power he had. Standing next to two burly, thick muscled Agents, you could understand why. But in your brief assessment of this new man, you could see the lean strength of him, the muscles of his lower arms, veins in his hands. He was tall, too, taller than either of the other men, which was saying something.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, and the new arrival-Reid-held up his phone.

“Garcia can’t pull anything from the Honda, it’s, her words, an ancient species.” He spoke quickly, almost as though the words couldn’t find their way off of his tongue quickly enough. You tried not to fixate on his mouth, because damn it, his lips were perfect.

Absentmindedly, you crossed your arms across your chest, feeling tense and tired. When Reid’s eyes followed the movement, you felt frozen under his gaze, watching with your breath held as it dragged slowly up to your face. His expression was unreadable, yet you still felt your cheeks grow warmer.

“Listen, (Y/N), we know you don’t have any real part in Peter’s crimes. We intercepted his calls and texts, we know he asked you to pick him up today, last minute.” Agent Hotchner said, his eyes burning into yours.

You looked away from the other men, shame flooding through you. “Peter always calls, and I always answer. But I really don’t know anything about what he does, I didn't know he was even with anyone else today. He asked me to pick him up right out front of the pharmacy, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, the wordless plea that they understand you had no clue what was going on. And if innocent people were dying, you would do anything you could to help them put a stop to it.

Reid tilted his head slightly as he watched you, “We’ve seen the messages, (Y/N), we know how he treats you, giving you a little, yet taking a lot,” The tears almost threaten now, so you glance away, looking at the ground as you nod, “And he doesn’t even tell you what he’s taking, the danger he’s putting you in. He’s going to go away for a long time, but you don’t have to.”

At this, your head snaps up and you look between the three men, expecting them to laugh and finally cuff you. But they all wear the same neutral expression, all watching you.

“Like I said, I don’t know much abou-“

Reid shook his head, politely interjecting, “We understand. But you know where you took him today, right?” At your nod, Reid stepped a little closer, peering down at you, “We need you to take us to him. And tell us any other addresses you can remember picking him up from or taking him to in the last year. Can you help us? You won’t be under arrest if you can give us what we need to stop Peter and the men he’s working with.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you would help, regardless of whether you were still under arrest; you had no loyalty whatsoever to Peter. You only ever showed up for him because you hoped, each time, that it would be the time he would go beyond flirting. That the feelings were mutual. But if he was committing crimes-fuck, robbing people, working with a murderer, then you were done with him.

“I can tell you addresses, and I can show where he is now, I just,” You paused, closing your eyes briefly to pull in a breath, steadying yourself, “Please, don’t hurt him, if you don’t need to, I mean.”

Reid’s eyes, which you found the moment you opened yours, visibly softened at your words. He seemed a little surprised, you thought, though it was hard to tell. He was difficult to read, and you’d only just met him. He nodded reassuringly before looking to Agent Hotchner expectantly while you waited, your insides in knots.

“(Y/N), Spencer is going to go with you in your vehicle, and we’ll be following behind. Take us as close as you can without being obvious. Reid,” He turned to the handsome agent, “We’re going to check the car first, can you-“ He gestured wordlessly in your direction, which made you frown in confusion.

Reid nodded, and you watched as the two other agents moved to search your car, while he moved toward you. “I’m going to search you for weapons, okay?” He explained, holding his hands out as if waiting for your permission.

You stared, perhaps a beat too long, at his long-fingered hands. With a shy bob of your head, you looked to Reid, “Of course, I understand.” And the agent began to pat you down as you stood awkwardly.

It wasn’t as though the action was intimate or affectionate, but for whatever reason, you did feel his touch was hesitant. He was gentle, considerate...it surprised you. And then his hands slid up your back as he stood in front of you, and you became acutely aware of the thin cotton t-shirt your wore, instantly becoming self-conscious. You wondered what he thought of you, of your body.

Mind out of the gutter, you told yourself.

It was then, when Reid leaned back, his hands sliding from your back to your chest, that time seemed to stand still, just for a moment. They moved across your stomach briefly, and as they began to pull away, the search complete, you looked up. Reid was staring at you, his cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. You caught your breath, his gaze was so intense, but before you could even try to think of what to say, he was swiftly stepping back, breaking eye contact with a heavy swallow.

You were kind of relieved. That had been almost too intense, whatever that was. The relief lasted only moments until Agent Hotchner called out that your car was good to go, and you remembered you had a twenty-minute car ride alone with the Reid.

Fuck.

+

The first few minutes of the drive are bearable enough, Spencer takes the wheel as you give him directions to the subdivision where you had dropped Peter off. It’s when the silence starts to press in, and you don’t know what to say to fill it, that things swiftly change.

Sensing the tension, no doubt, Reid reaches out to the audio power button and hits your stereo on. With an internal groan, you suddenly wish you could just jump out of the moving vehicle when the song you’d been listening to picks back up.

'Cause I've had everything But no one's listening And that's just fucking lonely I'm so lonely Lonely

You had put on a playlist you considered your ‘sad songs’ compilation for whenever you were let down by Peter or any other man. You enjoyed wallowing in self-pity for just a little while after each encounter. But now, as Justin Bieber crooned sadly, you didn't feel sad, just humiliated. You were in your car with a fiercely hot FBI agent who had given you some kind of fucking bedroom eyes just minutes ago as he pats you down, and this song plays.

Your expression must have been obvious, as you saw Reid look at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, frowning somewhat. When the song ended, you didn’t get a chance to be relieved before ‘Somebody to Love” began playing. This time, you sighed aloud, sinking somewhat into your seat and wishing you could dissolve into a pile of goo like the Wicked Witch.

Until that is, you glanced up and saw Reid’s fingers tapping gently on the steering wheel to the beat. Surprised, you looked around to the agent and he was mouthing the words, singing along with the chorus. Stunned, you just watched him for a moment, quickly finding yourself enraptured by the way his plump lips moved around the words, how his tongue would wet them between lines, how his eyes-

Fuck, he was looking right at you. You smiled quickly but looked away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You really had much bigger, more important shit to be concerned with right now, yet here you were wondering what the hell this perfect man, this FBI agent that was far too handsome for his own good, was doing singing along with the silly song, and why the look he gave you had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Not to mention, the guilt that accompanied those thoughts, brief as they were, of what the lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like on your body. Wrapped around your cock. Fuck.

He hadn’t said anything, but his fingers continued to tap along with the beat with ease. Eventually, when you directed him to the final turn, you chanced another glance at him. As if expecting your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, “I’m Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid.” You blinked. Doctor?

“Oh, uh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Dr-“

“You can call me Spencer,” He cut in, his expression somewhat amused.

You nodded, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Though I wish it were under different circumstances, perhaps where I wasn’t a criminal piece of shit.”

He pulled the car over, stopped at the community mailbox you had described as the perfect place to park. Once he’d turned the engine off, he turned to face you, those warm eyes giving you a gentle look. “You aren’t a criminal piece of shit, (Y/N),” Oh, you loved the way your name sounded coming from him. “I’d go as far as to say you’re a victim in all of this.”

You scoffed, waving a hand in protest, “No, I really should have known better than to help Peter.”

But Spencer shook his head, “As I said earlier, we saw the messages. He manipulates you, and he doesn’t ever tell you what he’s actually doing. He just gets you to give him rides, acts like it’s a way to hang out when really he’s using you as a cover because, in reality, you’re a law-abiding, hardworking, kind man. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, (Y/N).”

Letting out a breath, your mind went blank at Spencer’s words, failing you entirely. You believed every word he’d said, and you felt warm all over at the intense way he watched you, it was almost...protective.

Before your mind could reboot and you could trust yourself to open your mouth and not simply drool, a tap on the window drew your eyes beyond Spencer. Agent Hotchner stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed.

Spencer climbed out of your car, but you stayed put, glad for a moment to close your eyes and try to steady your beating heart. After this was over, you were climbing into your bathtub and staying there for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month.

“Prentiss and JJ are parked at the North end, they’re going to come with us. Can you wait here, with (Y/N), and call Garcia and have him give her the other locations?”

You heard Spencer agree and bid his fellow agents goodbye before climbing back into your car. He smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, your own shy and uncertain. “You heard what our task is?” He asked you, his head tilted again, watching you curiously.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. But first, can you give me your phone, please?” He held his hand out expectantly. You handed it over, first pointing it towards your face to unlock it. His fingers brushed yours when he took the phone from you, and if you hadn’t been looking at him already, you wouldn’t have believed it was intentional. But it was because at the slight contact, your eyes had widened and Spencer...Spencer had smirked.

He clicked around on your phone for a moment, hit one final button and then passed it back to you, looking satisfied. When you took it back, his phone chimed in his pocket. Confused, you peered down at your screen to see he’d added his name to your contacts and sent himself a text from your phone. Well fuck.

He was watching you with an amused expression, “Once this case is over, (Y/N), I’d love it if you would allow me to take you to dinner.”

“I, wow,” You stammered, nervously running your hair through your hair. His eyes followed your movement, and you saw a glint behind the warmth, of desire. Hunger. You didn’t think twice. “I’d love to, Spencer.” He grinned at you.

And surprising even yourself, you reached out and squeezed his hand. And when he returned the pressure and ran his thumb softly across the back of your hand, all thoughts of Peter left your mind as *NSYNC played in the background and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

✨Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @snitchthewitch

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch. 

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous. 

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day. 

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before. 

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you. 

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning. 

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here. 

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here. 

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District. 

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse. 

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her. 

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent. 

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster. 

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal. 

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch. 

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?” 

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids. 

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down. 

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again. 

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.” 

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life. 

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house. 

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks. 

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were. 

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours. 

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids. 

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning. 

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked. 

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door. 

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.” 

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home. 

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.” 

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set. 

“Did you enjoy your time over there?” 

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.” 

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean. 

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.” 

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.” 

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?” 

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard. 

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again. 

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing. 

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.” 

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.” 

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. 

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head. 

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest. 

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?” 

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission. 

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own. 

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss. 

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own. 

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again. 

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.” 

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you. 

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.” 

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on. 

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed. 

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives. 

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door. 

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.” 

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway. 

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

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[impala-dreamer]

Checkmate

Criminal Minds FanFic

~Trying to hide something from your coworkers is almost impossible, especially when your coworkers study human behavior for a living.~

Reader, Reid, Hotch, Morgan (ish)

1,500 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Smut talking. Smut happening subtly. Comedy.

A/N: This is my first ever CM fic, and my god they're too smart for me. lol. Hope I somewhat did them justice. :)

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The engines roared; Morgan snored in time with the droning of the plane.

It had been a week. Stressed but relieved that no one else had died, the team headed back to Quantico; mostly silent, alone with their thoughts.

The only chatter came from Reid and Y/N who sat mid plane, playing a game of chess that had been going on forever. Reid was smarter, but Y/N was able to distract him enough to sneak a few choice moves in here and there.

She leaned forward over the board, giving him a nice view of her cleavage, and set her middle finger atop a pawn, deciding.

"The thing about Martin Fletcher," Reid went on, eyes determined to stay on her hand and not stray further up. "He would technically be classified as a sexual sadist, but when interviewed before his execution, he admitted to the murders but did not express gaining any sexual satisfaction from any of the victims or scenes."

Y/N shrugged and took her hand off the pawn as a shiver ran down her spine. "Is that so weird? Everyone's different, Spencer."

"It's not," he agreed, eyeing the board and then Y/N, "I just found it interesting. He said that he liked to masturbate to pictures of classic cars and women wearing latex catsuits."

A chuckle sounded from across the plane and Y/N leaned over to look past Reid's shoulder. Hotch was seated diagonally across from her, ankle on his knee, cell phone in hand, listening but not.

"Something to add, Agent?" Y/N teased; a slick smile spreading across her lips.

Dark brown eyes lifted. "Classic cars," he repeated, staring hard at Y/N, "latex catsuits? Sounds like a-"

"Batman Complex," she finished for him with a faint laugh. "You're right."

Hotch looked up with a rare smile and a moment of tension filled the cabin.

Reid was lost between them.

"Batman Complex?" he questioned, brows knitting as his microprocessor of a brain struggled to catch up. "Is that a-"

"Inside joke," Y/N said, clearing her throat and tearing her attention away from Hotch. She leaned in again and gave them both a peek, moving her pawn forward. She let out a heavy breath as another shiver attacked her, and sat back in her seat. "Your move, stud."

Reid pressed his lips together in a confused smile and studied the board. "You know, superhero fetishes are ranked in the top ten of sexual fantasies for white males ages 15-25."

Y/N squeezed her thighs together. "Just missed the cutoff, huh?"

His cheeks burned bright. "I-I've never…"

"Oh, come on, Spencer. Everyone has fantasies. Everyone's got that one...mmm...thing that…" Y/N sat up straight and gripped the armrest for a quick second, her voice growing weak. She shot a glance at Hotch, and cleared her throat. "We all have that one thing that seems a little strange. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Reid ignored her squirming and moved his rook. "I don't think so. I don't...really…"

Y/N licked her lips absently and looked down at the chessboard. There was no way she was going to win. Not even a little. All she had up her sleeve was distraction, even if she was a little more than distracted herself.

“Are you seriously telling me, Dr. Reid…” She spoke slowly, capturing one of his pawns as his eyes glazed over slightly. “...that you don’t have any weird... sexy things…” She picked up his piece and brought it towards her lips, slowly rolling the top around in her fingertips. “...floating around in that head of yours?”

Reid swallowed hard.

Hotch shifted in his seat.

Morgan rolled onto his side, his snore fading to a gentle purr.

“No?” Reid watched as Y/N grinned, rubbing her thumb across the top of the pawn slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Too bad,” she shrugged, sitting back as her stomach tightened a bit. “I’d imagine you’re full of interesting ideas.”

Reid smiled and looked down at the board, a bit of hair falling into his eyes. “Ideas, yes,” he admitted. “Sexual ideas? No.”

Y/N held her breath for a moment and her eyes fluttered closed. She pushed her knees up and thighs together, going up on her tiptoes for a split second before relaxing with a sigh. “You gotta have something dirty going on up there.”

Bishop to rook.

“Not really.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said simply.

Hazel eyes narrowed. “I’m not one to lie, Y/N.”

Her shoulders twitched suddenly and she exhaled slowly, eyes flickering over to Hotch who sat as before, watching but not, listening but not. “I guess that’s true,” she said, breath quickening with each word. “But if you were one to lie, you’d probably be good at it, thus making it impossible for me to know how true that statement is.”

“Well,” he said with a small smile, “I suppose that’s true as well.”

Y/N’s hips rolled unconsciously and she dug her nails into her thigh to stop the movement. “So, no dirty thoughts ever?” she asked, leaning in to study the board.

Reid’s eyes drifted to the deep line between her breasts and his voice grew tight. “No more than anyone else, I would assume. You?”

Y/N pulled her bottom lip through her teeth as her eyes hazed over for a second. She tipped her head to look at Hotch, chest rising and falling with heavy but controlled breaths. “Oh, I always have dirty thoughts, Spencer. Always.” She chewed her lip again, canine falling like a dagger into the corner of her mouth.

Knight to E7.

“Such as?”

A bout of turbulence shook the cabin as the plane rolled through a mess of heavy clouds, and Y/N sat back in her chair, gripping the armrests. She closed her eyes and let out a silent moan through gently parted lips; knees shaking almost imperceptibly.

When the plane regained its smooth glide, Y/N opened her eyes and gave Reid a dreamy smile. “Well, such as…” Her gaze traveled to Hotch for a brief moment and then back to the chessboard. “Sometimes I think about having sex in here.”

“In here?” Reid swallowed hard.

“Yeah.” She licked her lips and crossed her arms, forcing her breasts to pop beneath her tight blouse. “Right in here.” She dropped her voice and her arms, leaning closer. “Can you imagine how much fun that would be, Spencer? Cumming your brains out at 60,000 feet?”

Reid, who had subconsciously leaned in as Y/N did, now sat back, spell broken. “Well, actually, we rarely travel above 41,000 feet. Sometimes 42,000.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re killing me, kid.”

“No,” he smiled, “just kicking your ass at chess.”

His queen flew down the board and Y/N gasped, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Well...shit,” she panted, brows knitting, stomach clenching, then relaxing.

“Checkmate.”

Y/N eyed the board and then shook her head. “Damnit.”

“Of course, if you had actually been paying attention, you may have made a better go of it.”

Hotch laughed under his breath.

Y/N blinked quickly. “Excuse me? I’m paying enormous attention.”

Reid sat back and smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you played very well being that you were desperate to distract me from the fact that you were having multiple orgasms while talking to me.”

“What!” Her face flushed and her guilty smile was unfading.

“You’ve been sweating, out of breath, muscles clenching and releasing. Your pulse has been elevated and your pupils dilating at a rapid pace. I’m assuming you’re being stimulated by a remote device controlled by an app on Hotch’s phone.”

She stammered. “That’s-not-”

“If I’m correct, you’ve had about four orgasms since we sat down.” Reid stopped and clasped his hands, waiting smugly to hear if he was correct.

Y/N took a deep breath and sat up straight. “Well, ahem. That’s...I’m…” A sudden shock from the device tucked in her panties made Y/N whimper and she grit her teeth, annoyed. “If you’ll excuse me, Spencer…”

He grinned. “Of course.”

Y/N jumped up, a little weak in the knees, and hurried passed him, shaking her head at Hotch on the way to the lavatory. “You suck,” she mouthed.

Hotch, cool as ever, clicked a button on his phone and Y/N nearly fell over.

“And you,” he said quietly, “owe me twenty bucks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Y/N waved him off dismissively and rushed to the bathroom to remove the vibe.

“Twenty bucks?” Reid asked, turning in his seat.

Hotch closed his phone and tucked it safely inside his jacket pocket. “She thought she could stay calm enough so that you wouldn’t notice. I knew she’d fail.”

Spencer frowned, a bit confused. “That’s kind of mean, isn’t it?”  

Hotch shrugged and pushed his seat back, closing his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said with a smirk. “I had fun.”

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[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 20)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2430

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

When you got up the next morning, you felt like a truck had hit you. You slept maybe thirty minutes, if that. The anxiety settled on you heavily. Your marriage, career, and freedom were on the line. 

The worst part was you knew if you lost one of them, you’d lose them all. Everything that had transpired between you two lately seemed so insignificant at that thought. Yes, you were the one doing the killing, being the accomplice, but suddenly, the problem with JJ felt miniscule. When Spence was kidnapped and you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again, you still wondered how he felt about her, how you two had a future together.

Yet, now… now you were terrified you’d pushed him into her arms. Between keeping your distance physically and emotionally, and literally admitting to being a serial killer, you weren’t sure there was much hope for your marriage. 

How did it all go so wrong, so fast? Six months ago, you two were the picture of a happy, perfect marriage. 

Now you’d spend the next two weeks looking over your shoulder, wondering when and if your husband would show up with the handcuffs -- and not for pleasure this time. 

You only had to teach ten classes - two a day each day this week. Then next week, you would be giving out finals. This was your late afternoon Monday class, and you were just getting started. 

“Alright everyone. Hope you had a great weekend,” you said with a cheery smile, thinking about how you had a horrendous weekend. “Today, we’re going to be talking about resolving the case. You’ve found the killer, now you’re at trial. We’re going to talk about everything that could go right, or wrong, and how a forensic psychologist might be able to help with this.”

Just then, the door towards the back of the room opened and you saw a very familiar face. It was Rossi. 

Your gut dropped. Oh no, did Spence tell the team to just go ahead and come arrest you? 

But his face said otherwise. There was no disappointment or grimness, or hesitation. No, actually, he had a shiteating grin on his face. 

“Well, look who it is everyone. This is my very esteemed boss, David Rossi,” you announced as he made his way to the front of the lecture hall. “Are you here to ream me on my teaching?” you teased.

“Even better, I plan to sit in on it and correct you when need be,” he stated cheerfully before slightly turning to your students who laughed. 

“It’s always a pleasure.” 

He smiled at you before pulling a spare chair up to sit somewhat behind you in the corner as you taught and went through your powerpoint. You were only on your second slide when he interjected. You’d just asked the class, “What does it mean if a defendant wants to plead NGRI.”

A boy who usually spoke up in your class, raising his hand. “It means not guilty by reason of insanity.”

“Right, and what happens when they plead that?” 

“They get cut slack and the jury sees them as insane. Then instead of going to prison, they go to a mental institute for a shorter amount of time,” the student explained. 

“Actually,” Rossi started before standing up, “that’s not usually the case. An NGRI is only successful 1% of the time, and when it is, the defendant has to usually stay in a facility for a lot longer than the prison sentence would’ve been and they have to prove themselves capable to a doctor.” 

At this point he was pacing and you couldn’t help but grin fondly as you gave him the floor.

“This actually reminds me of a case I word back in the late 80’s,” he continued. With that, he took off down memory lane. It was one epic story after another. Some included you, some were decades before you, but all of them had the kids on the edge of their seats, soaking up every one of his words. After each anecdote, the kids had questions. 

Before you knew it, class was over. Rossi sort of touched on the points you wanted to, but mainly it turned into a lot of his exciting tales of being in the field. Which was ultimately fine. You’d just post the lecture notes online for the kids tonight. 

When the kids left the lecture hall, you gathered your things and turned to Rossi as you exited the room. 

“So what brings you down, other than crashing my lecture?”

“That was it. Hadn’t seen or heard from you in a while, thought I would come visit the ole sunshine state,” he informed. “How’s it going down here? I hope I didn’t step all over your class.”

You shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. You talking about the glory days is a lot better than me droning on about court cases.” You laughed slightly. 

“So you sad to leave it? I know your classes are almost up.” 

“No, not really. Teaching is fun, but I miss field work. Actually catching criminals, instead of teaching how to catch them.”

“I think your husband might say the opposite.”

At the mention of Spence your heart hammered and went icy. 

“Spence would probably say that because he doesn’t like the fact that we do have to do our jobs.” 

“This is true.”

“Hey, you wanna grab dinner? You flew all the way down.”

“I’d love to, kid,” he agreed, taking you up on your offer. 

“Awesome. I know a great seafood joint nearby. I know you might prefer italian but maybe a change of pace would be nice.”

“Just point the way,” he said, gesturing forward. You smiled and led him to your car where you two piled in and drove about five minutes away to a nice restaurant. You got in, ordered your drinks, and settled in. 

“So you ready to be back in the field?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, I think I am. Every time Spence calls and mentions a case I’m profiling immediately,” you stated with a slight laugh, trying to hide how you felt like you were dying inside. Your stomach was a war of anxiety, dread, depression, and a tiny flicker of hope.

“Yeah, he tells us,” he remarked. “So your time as a professor down here is ending. What’d you think? Would you want to keep it up back up at Quantico?”

“You offering me a job?” you teased.

He shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “The academy is always looking for teachers. But I’m curious. I know Reid loves teaching, didn’t know if that extended to you now.”

“Well, if it was back in DC and it didn’t take me too far away from the BAU and Spence, yeah I’d probably be up for it.” 

“See? You were nervous for nothing.”

You chuckled. “Hey, I’d never done this before!” 

“Talking to a crowd of people is a lot easier, and safer, than talking to one unsub.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” you said as soon as the drinks hit the table. 

“Are you going to miss all this sunshine?”

You peered around the restaurant, as if you were actually gauging it. That’s when the question hit you -- if, by some miracle, Spence didn’t turn you in, you would be leaving behind Dexter. Your truest friend. You’d miss him dearly. He was unusual, yes, for an FBI agent, but he was also… very real. You could joke, be yourself, not be judged around him. He wouldn’t take what you said too seriously or get offended. He found your dark humor delightful. You hoped that he found a friend in you too. 

Yes, despite everything, you’d miss Dexter, the one person who truly knew every part about you. 

“I’ll miss some things about the state. Yeah,” you admitted with a fond smile. 

“Well you can always visit,” he reminded as he raised his glass.

The two of you talked, caught up like old friends. Shop talk was little, and you discussed life with Spence, kids, the marriage. You pretended he didn’t know you were a serial killer and you weren’t on edge, wondering if you were going to prison any second. Rossi didn’t know about JJ, or if he did, he didn’t say one word and you didn’t feel like airing your dirty laundry. So you left the topic alone. 

Other than that, it was a great dinner with a friend. He said he and Krystal were on their way to a little resort for a few days. She was sightseeing in Miami while Rossi visited you. As soon as he was done with the restaurant, he was going to meet her at the resort.

Unfortunately for you, your distraction was gone now, and you were back to being consumed with anxiety. Seeing Dexter didn’t help either, or at least, you didn’t think it would. 

-------------------------------------

The next day, around 4:30 pm, you got a text from Dexter asking if you’d want to grab dinner. You agreed.

The two of you met at a little outdoor restaurant. It was a beautiful night. Very warm, but a cozy kind of warm, not a strangling type. The ocean breeze was doing an excellent job at calming your nerves. 

You were daydreaming, wondering when or if you’d ever see or feel anything this beautiful again when Dexter took a seat right in front of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, a slight smile on his face.

“Hi,” you softly said. Not one little part of you was mad at him. Maybe some part of you should’ve been, but how could you be? You were the authority in this relationship. You could’ve locked Dex up a long time ago, not looked back, and been a local and FBI hero. But no, your personal vendetta and vices got in the way and you gave into a darkness inside you that you never knew you had. Not until you met Dexter and knew what a good vigilante looked like. 

“How’s...uh, how’s everything going?” 

“As good as can be expected,” you truthfully stated, frowning a bit. “Listen I’m so sorry I--”

He held up his hand. “Nope. No. You don’t have to apologize. I knew that there was a risk in teaching you. I knew that one day your coworkers might figure it out. I was sort of hoping they’d only take you down though,” he stated with a grin that made you laugh. “But seriously… I knew the risks. I could’ve said no. Like I said, if this is how I go out, then your husband is a worthy opponent.”

A sorrowful smile touched your face for the briefest of seconds. 

“So you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Y/N, I’m the killer. I know the dangers I face every time I take someone out. That was happening long before you were in the picture.” 

“Yeah but having an FBI agent for a partner must not be ideal.” 

“On the contrary, there might be hope. Do you really think he is going to turn you in? Turn us in?” 

You heaved a large sigh. That’s all you’d thought about since the words came out of your mouth and you were still no closer to an answer.

“I honestly don’t know. The fact that it’s been a few days and we haven’t been arrested is a good sign. But, Spencer is practical too, he may be waiting until I get home to sort out details of the marriage, the home, and everything else before asking me to give myself up.” 

He nodded. “I don’t know him as well as you, so I can’t say anything on that. But we should take it as some form of hope that there aren’t feds at our door.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” 

He eyed you up and down, seeing as you were clearly miserable. 

“Hey, well, worst case, he does… Don’t spend your last days of freedom sulking. Spend them doing what you want. Go take a tour, go see a museum, go… do whatever it is you do to relax. Speaking of, do you ever relax?”

A half smile perked up on your face. “Yes, Morgan, I do relax.”

“Oh, ‘Morgan’, did I hit a nerve, Agent?” 

You shook your head and laughed, sticking your tongue out. 

“Hey, Dexter…” you started, your eyes down at your fingers that were playing with each other. “I want you to know that you’re a really good friend. If it wasn’t for you when Spence got kidnapped… I would’ve been a mess. I would’ve gone off on JJ. Hell, I’d be a lot of things.” You took a deep breath. “But not just that. Spence, he knows me inside and out. He even knows about my… secret now, but you… Well you saw all of me and didn’t judge me. I mean, you know I’m an agent and you didn’t give me a lecture.”

“That’d be a bit of a double standard, don’t you think?” 

You shrugged. “Maybe, but you could’ve, and you didn’t. I appreciate that. Even when we weren’t… teaching, I liked just hanging out with you. It was nice to have a friend that wasn’t so by the book. I mean, the BAU is great, and we’re a family, but I can’t be my morbid self with them. They just don’t share my ideals and if I said half the shit I did to them that I did to you, they would be so offended that I’d be sent off for a psych eval faster than you could say ‘unsub.’” 

He slightly grinned. “Yeah, I liked our time too. It was nice to be myself too. Harry… he did his best but I could tell he didn’t accept me, not all the way. With Deb… shit, with Deb, she barely knows me. Rita sees a little bit more. She can tell when I’m upset, or agitated but… yeah it’s nice to have a real friendship. I’m going to miss this.” 

“Yeah… me too.” 

“Thanks… for looking behind the mask and not being afraid.”

“Thanks for letting me look behind the mask,” you countered, raising your beer, clinking it with his.

The rest of the evening was spent just talking. Not about kills or teaching. Not about prison. Just about your accomplishments, why they meant so much to you, what you’d seen, what you loved about Spencer. 

But something had clicked with you. Dexter said something and it resonated deep inside you. So you set the plan in motion when you got home that night.

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

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Spencer Reid

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[okay-j-hannah]

The Adrenaline of Panic

Criminal Minds : Fic

Spencer x Reader

Word Count: 2220

Warnings: I used the plot line from season 6 episode 10 - reader has a similar situation to Ashley Seaver... being new and all 😁 {mild struggle, shots fired, unsub down, agent choked... the whole nine yards} 

Inspiration and dialogue came from this episode: 6x10 What Happens At Home

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: In a moment of pure terror, the team realizes that you’re visiting the killer in his home - Reid, unable to contain the panic, races against the clock to save you from a gruesome end

“Okay, let’s hope the occupancy listings show pets.” Emily led the way into the back room, carrying a stack of files, “This is the pile of suspects we need to weed the 18 from.”

(Y/N) followed closely behind, meeting at the table, “What are these?” She gestured to the smaller stack that Spencer was carrying in.

“Victim information, the families of the 3 women who were killed,” he responded, moving to stand beside her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Families,” (Y/N) muttered.

Emily sighed, opening a case file, “Yeah, families are the hardest part about this job.”

Though it had only been a few weeks since her initial field training, (Y/N) was finding it hard not to feel attached to the victims. She was involuntarily connecting herself to them on an empathetic and personal level. That could be dangerous for someone on a case, she knew.

Spencer knew it too, watching her movements closely as she gazed at the victim boards behind them. He had known (Y/N) for a few years, running into her at a lecture they were commonly interested in. He was one of the first people to recommend her for the BAU trainings – obviously secretly wishing he could work alongside her and get to know her more.

Throughout her training process, Reid became accustomed to her kind nature and positive thinking. He had made a mental note then to introduce her to Garcia.

But he had also decided then that he was going to have to look out for her when it came to being too involved in cases. It can damage an agent’s whole career by getting too involved, becoming irrational during a case.

“Drew Jacobs. We talked to him this afternoon. His wife, Aubrey, was victim number 3.”

(Y/N) listened to Prentiss, gazing at the file before her. Beautiful pictures of a blonde woman were paperclipped within, similar snapshots of her daughter – a daughter that held much of her likeness.

It made her insides clench, noticing the poor girl, “She’s never going to have a mother around.”

Spencer licked his lips, fumbling his fingers through other case files as he tried to observe her, “No. It’s unfortunate.”

(Y/N) flickered her eyes to him, seeing the immediate concern behind his gaze. “And that’s her laptop?”

“Yes, we did a data sweep over it and we’ll have to take it back to the house,” Emily responded, also noticing the slight uneasiness in (Y/N)’s demeanor.

But they continued the work on the files, Prentiss being taken away by the local sheriff for records of pet ownership amongst the possible unsubs. It left Spencer and (Y/N) quietly shuffling through other paperwork, muttering theories as they went.

Reid couldn’t help but stare, his eyes seeming to x-ray her – him trying to figure out what he could do to comfort her. She simply droned on, moving her gaze to the laptop multiple times before snapping up at Spencer’s voice.

“You okay?”

She met his light eyes, his brows knitted into concern at her blank expression, “Yeah, it’s just… you know – the families. They’ve lost so much… in such a horrendous way. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

He found the urge to console her but had no idea how to shift past the awkward tension, “You know there’s an average of 5.3 murders per capita per day in America? That’s about 53 murders per 100 thousand people per day, meaning that there’s a lot of families being affected each day. And… and because of such a statistical average we shouldn’t feel obligated or at fault for each death because there’s no possible way we could prevent such a vast number over a land mass such as America. That’s like saying we could imprison every serial killer in the 3.8 million square miles of the United States…” he attempted at a smile, quickly realizing that (Y/N)’s frown was getting deeper and deeper.

“Which is incomprehensible with that sizeable area and such a small team, not to mention that it’s estimated that there are around 2,000 serial killers at large in the US at this given moment. Essentially, we shouldn’t blame ourselves for…”

“I get it, Reid. There are hundreds of deaths happening each week that we have no control over,” she clenched her jaw, staring at the laptop, “And the only comfort we have for the families are statistics, false hope, and bad news.”

Spencer found his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Of course he resorted to rambling in a split second decision to do something nerve wracking. But the way she stood there without an ounce of feeling in her face really hit him hard. He had to do something.

“Do you want a coffee?”

She sighed, swallowing hard, “Are you trying to get me addicted?”

He opened his mouth, confused again, “Why would I want…?”

“Yes, I’ll take a coffee,” she hinted at a smile, “Gesh, Spence… you’d think my humor would rub off on you at some point.”

There was a pause as he caught onto the sarcasm, “I’ll be right back.”

And he skid out of the room quickly, extremely proud of himself that he was able to get (Y/N) to almost smile.

Little did he know that (Y/N) was now eyeing the laptop with a hard expression. She knew it was against protocol to leave without informing Hotch – especially with her being so new to the game. But if there’s one thing she’s learned from the last five minutes, it’s that no family should be treated as a statistic.

And they deserved to have their possessions returned to them in person by an agent familiar with the case.

~~~

Rossi moved the phone to speaker as other BAU members gathered around the table, “Garcia, we need you to run a few more names. Phillip Long.”

Within seconds the tech guru spit back an answer with precision, “Long has no suspicions on his record, no arrests, and no technology either.”

Reid stood among the men – a coffee clutched in his hand; another full cup was left on a desk behind him. He wasn’t able to find (Y/N) after his initial visit to the breakroom for the drinks. And it wasn’t sitting well with him that she just disappeared.

You could visibly see the mental battle bombarding his psyche as he attempted to listen to the others. He knew she was showing signs of being too involved, he knew she was struggling not to do something more for the case.

Should he say something to Hotch and possibly get her career flagged by a broken rule?

“Drew Jacobs,” Rossi continued.

Reid found his mind being triggered to a memory by the said name. The name of one of the victim’s husbands.

“Drew Jacobs has a couple of arrests for assault when he was younger,” Garcia typed away from the speaker phone, “I’ll give you more details on that in a sec. Is this the husband of the woman whose computer I went through?”

Reid became very still, halting his fidgeting. The laptop.

“Yeah,” Morgan responded, noting the change of demeanor from Spencer.

“She was really unhappy with him,” Garcia continued. “She said he was distant, he left her alone at night. He would wander outside – in fact, he was at the top of the suspect pool until his wife was killed.”

Rossi shared looks with the rest of the men, speculating before Reid dropped his cup of coffee and ran for the door. His satchel hit the frame hastily as he dove for keys to any sort of government vehicle outside, running for the black SUVs parked on the street.

He knew he should’ve said something – he knew he should’ve called her as soon as he realized she was gone – he knew he shouldn’t have left her alone.

And now she was going to pay for his ignorance.

Practically slamming into a car, Reid pulled out his phone to dial, already knowing his destination from the case files he memorized. He was finding adrenaline coursing through him like nothing he had ever experienced. His eyes were dilated, breathing abnormal, and palms unusually sweaty. He was panicking.

“Agent (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)!” Reid yelled, quickly catching his fault in volume and reducing to an acceptable rate, “Where are you?”

There was a hint of something off in her tone, “Without a doubt, sir.”

His heart skipped a beat, a bubbling entering his stomach, “Are you at Drew Jacobs?”

There was a breath, “Yes, sir.”  

Reid turned a corner, finding a third-party line attempting to patch through. He quickly tapped the accept button, finding Hotch on the other end.

It was strange for Spencer – to experience a moment where his brain wasn’t working.

“She… she’s at the unsubs house,” he tried to explain, blinking hard to focus on the road – to get to (Y/N). “She’s not alone.”

“Can you get out of there?” Hotch asked calmly, only concern in his voice. “(Y/N).”

The amount of time it took her to answer caused Reid’s stomach to flip into knots, his fingers itching to move as she responded, “I’m sorry, sir. I, uh… I can’t do that.” And she hung up.

“(Y/N)?” Reid panicked more, hitting his hand against the steering wheel, just minutes away from the designated house. “(Y/N)!”

Hotch spoke quickly over the phone, “Jacobs has her. She has no gun – we need to go.”

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan muttered, leaning into the phone, “Stay calm, Reid. We’ll be there soon.”

In return, Spencer threw his phone into the next seat, swerving to get to the driveway – wasting no more time. The team was on their way and would only be minutes behind him, though that was only a mere thought in the back of his mind. He was too concerned about getting into the actual house.

He extracted his gun, checking for any signs of movement in the windows. His breath was coming out in rapid, short bursts.

He was having flashes strike his mind… moments that he had shared with (Y/N) in the past. Lectures – coffee shops – libraries – hallows eve festivals – science projects – poetry slams – dinners with the team – driving her home – the urge to hold her hand – her beautiful smile.

He was not about to let her die like this.

Within a burst of high energy, Reid was already through the door, vaguely hearing a rustling coming from upstairs. Attempting to keep some sort of composure, he raised his gun, aiming it at the staircase.

The sound of struggling grew more violent, an awful choking noise becoming evident to his ears. Another surge of adrenaline forced him up the stairs quickly, almost fumbling near the top. The adjacent bedroom had its door open wide, figures flailing on the ground. A little girl was crying.

Jacobs had (Y/N) pinned to the floor, his hands hungrily squeezing her throat. Her legs were trying to buck him off, slowly losing vigor as she suffocated.

Reid found his voice hoarse, “Drew Jacobs, release the agent and back away. You have three seconds.”

(Y/N) moved her eyes to him; they were growing red and full of unshed tears. She gaped her mouth, moving her lips with silent pleas. And her fingers were losing the energy needed to claw at her attacker’s hands.

“Mr. Jacobs!” Reid yelled again, unable to see an alternative to the heat in the man’s eyes. And in a second he fired his weapon, two shots directly in the unsubs back.

It took only a second longer for Jacobs to release her, slumping to the side in a quick death.

Reid ran for her, putting his gun swiftly away in its holster to free his hands. (Y/N) gave a wracking cough, trying to fill her lungs with air once more. Her eyes were watering, a harsh mark quickly developing around her neck and chest.

With a closer look, Reid could see what a beforehand struggle inflicted on her: a few good gashes from a pocketknife the unsub had on him.

“(Y/N), thank God,” he sloppily brushed away pieces of her hair to free her face. He placed a hand on her shoulder, another behind her head, “You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.”

She coughed more, sucking in painful breaths, “I… I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard, finding his adrenaline invoking more spur of the moment actions – he pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t… we’ll talk about that later. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

She leaned into him, exhausted from the struggle, and he was finding it difficult to want to move from the spot. She was so fragile in that moment, real tears mixing in from the ones forced out of her.

“I just… I just wanted o-one family to feel seen. To not be considered a st-statistic.”

Reid bit the inside of his cheek, “Your heart is just too big for your own good.” He couldn’t help but smile, holding her there, “The team will be here any second and we can get you the help you need.”

“Please don’t leave me, Spence.” She struggled with breath, her throat bruising, “I don’t want you to go.”

And he wrapped his arms around her tighter, shock slowly numbing away, “Anything you need, (Y/N). You can always count on me to be there.”

~~~

Buy Me a Coffee?

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[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 3 - They Saw Trouble in My Eyes

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

Kit goes on her first case with the BAU and butts heads with everyone's favorite veteran profiler, Reid is a habitual sniffler, and protocol is out the window as always.

“Eleven-year-old Billie Copeland was last seen on the playground at 4:30 yesterday afternoon.”

JJ was walking around the table, handing over case files in manila folders. Each bore the print of the bureau on the front, and Kit blinked in surprise when one landed in front of her.

She knew that she was going to be a part of briefings. She’d been a part of a few during the handful of times she’d been called into the field directly out of the clinic. The times Monty and Ari dreaded but she secretly loved. She just didn't know that she would be a part of a briefing with the BAU team this soon. It was Wednesday. She’d barely started on Monday.

Kit almost missed Hotch speak, and when he did it was clear that he was agitated.

“That's… twenty hours ago. Child abduction response plan says we get notified immediately. What happened?”

“Well, there was reason to believe she was with her father,” JJ said, opening her own file as she stood next to their Unit Chief. Kit mirrored her, opening her own. “Her cell phone shows a call to him around the time of the disappearance.”

“So they've since ruled him out?” Gideon said.

“He called the mother about an hour ago,” JJ clarified.

“That doesn't mean he isn't involved.”

“He's on his way to the family home, so you can talk to him there, but the local police are now considering this a stranger abduction.”

“Twenty hours late,” Morgan said.

Kit’s heart sank. She glanced through the file, listening closely to Gideon and JJ go back and forth. Twenty hours was a long time in an abduction case, she knew that, but it was Reid’s voice that dropped her heart even further into her stomach.

“Long-term stranger abductions of children Billie's age are rare. They represent only half of one percent of all missing cases per year, but they are usually more likely to be fatal.”

Fatal. This little girl could be dead. How are they going to find her?

Of course, Kit had done more research about the BAU in the last few days. Or, at least Monty and Ari had. They dealt with abductions, stalkers, arsonists, you name it. Their specialty, however, was serial killers. To say that had nearly sent Monty into a spiral would have been an understatement.

Kit had come to terms with the fact that she could - would - come face-to-face with killers in her new position. The thought was less than comforting.

“Of the children that are abducted and murdered, 44% die within the first hour. From that point forth, their odds of survival greatly decrease. 75% are gone after 3 hours. Virtually all of them are dead after 24.” Reid finished, looking unhappy with his own assessment.

Hotch spoke immediately after Reid had finished. “Which means we have just under 4 hours to find her.”

“Shall we go?” Gideon said, already turning to walk from the room.

The others moved quickly, standing and taking their files with them. The room cleared, and Kit found herself facing the backlash of the left-over emotions in the room. Uncertainty. Frustration. Anger. Determination. It floated around her and settled in her chest like a weight.

Her hands went to close the file quickly, not wanting to look at Billie Copeland’s face anymore. They would find her. They had to find her. They were good at their jobs, and they had their own specialties.

Billie Copeland would be okay.

“Colghain?”

Kit looked up at the unexpected uttering of her name. Hotch was standing there in the doorway, eyebrows drawn together, looking at her expectantly.

It took her a full three seconds to say, “Sir?”

“The jet’s already on the airstrip.”

She stared at him for a moment, entirely unsure of what he meant.

Yeah, it is. Go get that little girl before something terrible happens to her. You’re worried, so why would you be talking to me?

“Good. The flight to Delaware has to be less than half an hour. You guys should go.”

He looked even more confused by her statement.

“Yes, we should,” he said evenly, nodding once at her file, “You’ll need that. Come on.”

���Sir? I’m confused.”

“We have to drive to the airstrip and we have no time to waste. Pick up the file, Colghain, let’s go.”

Oh. Oh.

“I’m… going with you?”

Hotch’s eyes flashed with understanding as she looked utterly confused.

“Yes. Judging by the report Billie has a broken arm in a cast, and she’s been missing twenty hours. She could be in need of immediate medical attention when she’s found.”

When. Not if. Hotch had said ‘when she’s found.’ Somehow, that was all Kit needed to stand from her seat.

She was going with them, to Delaware, to help with a child abduction. Billie Copeland was counting on them to find her alive, and Kit was going to be a part of that team.

Ó mo Dhia.

-----

They loaded into SUVs that took them to the airstrip. The jet was waiting for them, and Kit didn’t have time to wonder or ask or think about anything before peering into her file and taking it all in.

Just like the medical files she had for the team, she noticed Billie Copeland’s medical information was slipped between the first two pages. She knew that wasn’t typical of case files, which meant that JJ had gotten that specifically for her. This file was meant for her. She wasn’t a last minute addition or an extra file. They had meant for her to come.

Kit closed the file. She’d look at it on the jet, like the others. Still, she only had twenty-six minutes between take-off and landing to read the file and take a moment to center her thoughts.

Or at least that’s what Reid had said. The way he had rattled off statistics in the conference room had hit her once he’d gone at it again on the drive over, and she was both surprised and intimidated by his intelligence. She had also noticed that Reid, while gangly and awkward in social settings like in the break room or the bullpen, was confident when it came to facts and figures. When they had been in the conference room he had rattled off statistics with ease, and now in the car he rambled on and on about Wilmington, child abduction rates, and Billie Copeland. How he’d already read the entire file she had no idea. Kit was a fast reader, so were Monty and Ari, but finishing the file before they were in the car? That had to be impossible.

She also found herself bristling at the fact that while he was book smart, he seemed to have a very low grasp of social intelligence. Hotch and JJ were in the SUV with them on the way over, and she didn’t miss the way they both allowed Reid to keep talking and talking while the annoyance in the air grew.

It was the same on the jet, Reid talking and rambling while everyone seemed to try and tune him out and read their files. The only one not giving off the feeling of annoyance was Gideon. Kit had watched him smile at Reid’s rambling the same way her dad used to smile at Al, her youngest brother, whenever he droned on and on about video games he liked or movies he wanted to see.

Kit had waited for everyone else to sit before she had taken the seat she was in now. She closed her eyes for a moment before digging into the information, file flipping open just like it was in the laps of others. She could feel the fingers of her right hand tapping gently, but rapidly against the fabric of her pants. She kept the file open in her left, but let herself take a breath.

How the hell am I going to do this?  

She didn’t want the rest of the team to think she was incompetent. She didn’t want to show them that she didn’t belong. The only ones that had made her feel a bit like the wasn’t an intruder was Hotch, as was his job, and Morgan, who had only seemed to accept her after their accidental run-in at the track. The others had given pleasantries, but she knew how to play that game.

She was a nurse. Pleasantries were her specialty.

Once she’d finished her read through of Billie’s file, she felt confident she could handle anything thrown her way. At least, in terms of Billie’s health. If something had happened to her, there were no medication or preexisting conditions she needed to relay to EMS other than her broken arm, which while it came from a nasty fall, shouldn’t be an issue.

Unless her abductor did something to it .

She had to physically shake her head to stop herself from spiraling into that hole.

No. She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.

And if you can’t find her? If you find her dead? If you find her and she’s hurt, and you can’t help her? If she dies because of something you’ve done? What then, Dakota? What are you going to do then? What will they think of you? What will Montana and Arizona think? What will you think of yourself?

“Hey, Colghain,” Morgan said, yanking her out of her thoughts.

She looked up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

His eyes were concerned, and she hadn’t realized a hush had come over the jet. Even Reid was silent.

They were all looking at her. All of them. Kit could physically feel the hot blush flood across her cheeks as her chest tightened even deeper, and before she could stop herself her hand was creeping up to tug on the bottom of one of her braids. She hadn’t even noticed the tenseness of her body until she’d been shaken from her thoughts. She didn’t relax.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? I said your name three ti-”

She cut him off quickly, saying. “I told you Monday, it happens when I read. I’m fine.”

She hadn’t intended for any sort of venom to find it’s way into her words, but it had. Her tone had been just shy of biting, and she knew the look in her eyes had betrayed her usually calm facade. She could almost always keep it even. Keep calm. But between Billie’s abduction, her own spiraling thoughts, and the embarrassment of everyone staring at her, she could only starve off the big feelings with so much efficiency.

Kit blinked hard once before she took a breath, letting all of the tension out of her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, “That was rude. I’m fine. Really.”

She was fine. She could be fine.

-----

They loaded into new SUVs the second they landed. The Copelands’ home wasn’t a terribly far drive, and Kit kept herself quiet as the rest of the team bounced around ideas. The urgency was never lost, and no one had made a comment about her outburst as of yet, which she was terribly thankful for.

Keep your emotions in check, Dakota. Calm, nothing else. Keep your head. The big feelings can wait.

“We’re here. I want everyone here at the house but Morgan and I. The family is here, and they’ll need support. I also want them questioned, but keep it covert. The last thing we need is for the Copelands or local law to think we’re hostile or apathetic to their situation.”

“She's been missing twenty-one hours,” Reid said, climbing out of the SUV, ignoring the pointed look he was receiving from Hotch.

Kit didn’t miss it.

“We're gonna go meet with the lead detective at the park where the girl was last seen,” Hotch was saying to Gideon. He was clearly referring to himself and Morgan, who had stayed in the car as requested.

“We need to know everything that's being done,” Gideon said, now completely in control of the situation.

“I'll find out what the press is running, see if I know any of them. We may need to manage what they put out,” JJ said.

“Good,” Gideon offered. He turned to Reid. “See what the uniforms know from the canvasses. Elle and Colghain?”

“Yeah?” Elle asked as she and Kit jogged to quickly catch up with him.

“I need you two to be a liaison with the family.”

“A liaison?” Elle asked.

“In a child abduction, the parents are likely to break down if we aren't careful.”

“Okay.”

“Of course,” Kit added. She knew that. She’d watched it happen once with Monty at the hospital they’d worked in just as they finished their degrees. The mother had a nervous breakdown after her son went missing that landed her in the ER.  “You don’t think both of us will be overwhelming?”

Gideon didn’t break stride as his mistrusting voice cut deep. “Isn’t this the only reason you’re here? Bedside manor?”

Kit almost stopped short, but pushed past his bristling tone to keep stride. She knew that Gideon didn’t trust her, maybe the most of anyone, and she figured she deserved that after her outburst on the jet.

She could fix her relationship with Gideon at another time. In that moment, she had to focus on proving his misconception of her wrong.

Bedside manor. What a joke.

Kit sat beside Elle on the Copelands’ horribly ugly couch as they listened to Detective Russet on the news.

“We're looking for a white male in his thirties who drives a late-model green SUV. If anyone has seen anything suspicious, we have a hotline set up at the Wilmington police department. Billie Copeland is an eleven-year-old girl. The last time she was seen, she was in a blue track suit and a blue soccer uniform,” Russel finished just before Mrs. Copeland, Marilyn, turned the television off.

“They've been running that over and over again for the past two hours,” she said as she sniffled. She’d been crying steadily since they’d come into the house. “The press wants to talk to me. I just-I don't think I can face it.”

“That’s understandable,” Kit said gently. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, keeping her eyes soft and voice quiet. “You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.”

“Why don't you just tell us what happened?” Elle said with just as much gentleness, and Kit was pleasantly surprised. Elle had a face that held severity, but she was proving that she could be just as kind as anyone else.

“Um... I was focused on practice, and... Billie was... Being a pain as usual. She was giving me attitude. So I told her to run it off. I sent her away.”

Neither agent said anything as that hung in the air. It took a moment for Elle to speak again.

“How long have you been divorced?”

Wow, okay.  

“Um… it's been final for six months, but we haven't lived together for over a year.”

“You seeing anyone?”

Mrs. Copeland laughed humorlessly. “Between work and Billie, when would I have the time?”

Kit understood what Elle was doing now. If there was a man around Billie often, he could be the abductor. She allowed her voice to stay soft and unassuming as she asked, “Not one date? Any men coming over to the house?”

Mrs. Copeland shook her head.

“I- I had a few casual dates after work, but they never came to the house. Billie still hopes that her father and I will get back together.”

“How did Billie's dog die, Mrs. Copeland?”

Kit and Elle both quickly turned to the sound of Gideon’s voice. It wasn’t sharp as it had been when he had addressed Kit outside. It sounded soft and understanding, the way that Kit instructed the nurses during their quarterly training on, well, bedside manor.

“Uh... It was hit by a car two weeks ago,” Mrs. Copeland said, her head tilting as she gave off a wave of confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Shrine in the room,” Gideon said evenly. “Helps her grieve?”

“Her father did that for her.”

“They get along well?”

“Best of friends. She calls him every night, tells him about her day, asks about his. He's a cancer survivor, so he takes time off from work, pulls her out of school for father/daughter field trips. Says we all need to stop and enjoy life. But he forgets that he has responsibilities, that they both do. Which makes me the bad guy. And she blames me for the divorce.”

Mrs. Copeland’s sadness was now coupled with hints of frustration. “Blames me for everything. I should have just let her go with her father.” She wiped at her mouth slightly, her voice wobbling as tears brimmed in her eyes once more. “I'm sorry,” she finished before standing up and walking from the couch.

There was a moment before Kit looked between Elle and Gideon, decision set.

“I’ve got it,” she said quietly. She stood up and followed as Mrs. Copeland walked away from the living room and into the kitchen.

Kit hung outside of the door, shifting her weight, tapping on the side of her leg, anything to get her to wait. She wanted to wait. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland just a moment alone to either collect herself or fall into hysterics. Kit could deal with either. She had dealt with either more times than she could count. Her time in the ER had been incredibly informative and gave the fastest crash-course in people she could have imagined. She could do hysterics. She could do steely resolve. But she had to wait, if just thirty seconds.

Those thirty seconds proved fruitful. When Kit walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Copeland was getting a glass of water, tears now gone from her eyes. She was overwhelmed, and Kit hadn’t wanted that. She wanted to lessen the burden, and now she could start.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to apologize,” Kit said quietly, pushing her back against the wall of the kitchen. She wanted to give Mrs. Copeland space, but still stay in orbit. “Everyone processes differently, and you don’t have to apologize for the way you do it. Especially if it’s by crying. We understand.”

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit for a moment before nodding, just slightly. She took a breath and picked up the glass of water she had gone to pour. Kit noted that the mother’s hands were shaking less than before, and her resolve had come back to her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and Kit allowed herself to smile.

“Of course,�� she assured. “Anything you need, I’m here. Agent Greenaway too.”

Both women jumped as the front door nearly slammed shut. Kit turned sharply towards the noise, peering along with Mrs. Copeland towards the noise.

“Where’s Marilyn?”

“I have been calling you all night!”

Mr. and Mrs. Copeland had fought as soon as she rounded the corner.

“I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off.”

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or- we needed you.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Mrs. Copeland stalked away, but Kit didn’t move to follow her this time, instead staying in her spot by the Copeland’s piano. Her eyes worked over Mr. Copeland for signs of stress, just as she was sure Elle and Gideon were doing.

It was a moment before he  addressed the agents. “What's being done to find my daughter?”

“We're assessing that right now,” Elle said calmly.

“She's been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!” Mr. Copeland exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

“Where have you been, Mr. Copeland?”

Gideon’s calm was a stark difference to Mr. Copeland’s frantic energy. The older man was sitting relaxed on the couch, not allowing any expression on his face. He held a calm that the Copelands couldn’t.

Bedside manor.

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

Mr. Copeland came down to meet Gideon’s level, and Kit noticed that some of the tension ebbed away from him. There was distinctively less anger in the room.

“I have a cabin in Brandywine valley.”

“Police tried you there.”

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.”

“Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.”

“You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter. But you...you like being in her life.”

Gideon was starting now, changing their game of verbal tennis. He was starting to move from gentle questions to ones that could give them information. Kit shifted her position, not moving any closer, but opening her stance so she could face Mr. Copeland directly. She needed to see every movement and facial expression if she was going to read him the way she wanted to.

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around,” Mr. Copeland said. “This is the only place she's ever lived.”

“So you love her very much.” Gideon assured, though his face showed small hints of accusation.

“Yes,” Mr. Copeland insisted.

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left?”

Kit and Elle exchanged a look. Elle’s eyes seemed to ask, “This could get ugly. Are you ready for that?” which Kit tried to not let offend her. Between Gideon and Mr. Copeland’s combatting emotions of calm and volatile, Mrs. Copeland upset and frustrated in the other room, and Elle’s not-so-secret surveying of Kit’s own emotional state, Kit had no time to feel put-off by Elle’s lack of faith in her. Big feelings could come after, but while Billie was still missing, nothing else mattered.

“You weren't at your cabin,” Gideon was saying. “You weren't at work or with friends. Police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you. That you might have taken your daughter.” Gideon stood. “Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until-”

Gideon stopped to laugh humorlessly for a moment before continuing. “Would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off, disappears for almost twenty-four hours?”

“I was...busy,” was all Mr. Copeland gave.

Kit and Elle exchanged a look again, but this time neither was combative, or searching. Both women held confusion in her eyes.

“It's one thirty,” said Gideon. “You called your wife at eleven thirty, found out Billie was missing.”

“So?” Mr. Copeland asked.

“Well, Brandywine Valley's fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr. Copeland?”

“I-”

The feeling of guilt was sharp. Kit was used to that feeling. It radiated in hospitals when someone felt they were to blame, and even in the clinic when cadets had to bring in a friend after a drill-gone-wrong.

It was guilt that Mr. Copeland was giving off. Kit was sure of that, but she was also sure that it wasn’t the guilt of someone who had harmed someone else.

It was the guilt of someone who had bad news.

“I was at Sloane Kettering Hospital in New York City. Dr. Baylan Mahal is the head of Oncology. You can call him if you want.”

Kit let out a breath, her own chest dripping in the same sorrow Mr. Copeland felt. He was sick, again, and she would bet on her life he hadn’t told anyone yet. Now he was being forced to tell federal agents that didn’t know him, and who were, in some ways, accusing him of kidnapping his own daughter.

“I will,” Gideon said evenly. Mr. Copeland scoffed lightly and sat down in one of the living room chairs.

“Had a relapse?” was Gideon’s continuance. As if he had to ask. The answer was all over Mr. Copeland’s emotional output.

“It's in my lymph nodes now,” Mr. Copeland said. “There's nothing more they can-” The silence in the room was palpable as the rest of Mr. Copeland’s sentence hung in the air.  “Please find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

For a moment it looked like Gideon was going to offer comfort to the grieving, guilty father in front of him.

Instead, he turned to Kit, locking eyes with her for a moment before he dismissed her from the room, only saying, “Call Sloane Kettering.”

Kit did, and Mr. Copeland’s story was confirmed. He had an alibi, though Kit knew he hadn’t kidnapped Billie. Mr. Copeland loved his daughter, that much was incredibly obvious. And with a diagnosis like his? He wouldn’t want to waste any time he had left with her.

The team found themselves in the Wilmington Police Precinct. They were to give the profile they’d come up with to the officers and detectives working the case, which at that point was everyone they had.

Kit found a spot at the back of the room, perched on a desk, and watched with hawk eyes. She’d never seen them give a profile before, and she was admittedly eager to see the storied BAU in action.

“Billie Copeland has been missing twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four,” Gidion started.

“The unknown subject in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have cancelled the amber alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately,” Hotch said, and Kit was amazed by the way his voice didn’t give away any sense of confliction. He was sure of this profile, and he oozed confidence.

“That's crazy,” an officer challenged.

“Just hear me out,” Hotch said.

“But it goes against Carp procedure. You guys wrote the damn thing.” The officer continued.

Reid didn’t let him go any farther before he launched into an explanation.

“Carp is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction. Believe it or not, we're already late in the game, and we do know enough about this unsub to know that if he feels like we're closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him.”

There it was. The confident side of Reid. There was no hint of anxiety or social incompetence in him as he addressed the officers’ confusion or hesitance. He knew exactly what he was talking about, and there was no room for question.

“The man fits in 'cause nobody knows what he is,” Gideon continued evenly. “Can we really know our neighbors? He walks his dog. Does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him, but if you watch closely, you'll see he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. Largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat.”

“He's a white male, in his late twenties to thirties,” Hotch picked up. “He has a menial or temporary job. Socially marginalized and frustrated. He relates better to kids than he does to adults.”

He’d made his way into the sea of officers, stopping near where Kit was. He caught her eye, and on instinct she nodded. As they’d been talking she’d been creating an image in her mind, the pieces falling into place. The man who’d taken Billie was out there, and this was his description. It all made sense. It was relieving to feel that way. If she’d felt lost, the spiral of ‘not-good-enough’ would only have tightened. Instead, it loosened, just slightly.

“This is not his first offense against children, but it is his first abduction,” Elle said, pulling her from her thoughts. It was the first time she’d spoken.

“How do you know that?” Detective Russet asked from her position that was relatively close to Kit.

“First-timers hunt closer to home. Experienced predators don't,” Elle explained.

“And,” Hotch added, crossing back to the front of the room. “He's had a recent stressor, a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will.”

“Since he used the missing dog ruse and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood. It's quite possible that he truly does own or did at one point own a dog named Candy. We recommend cross-checking veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood,” Reid said, sniffling as he did so. His eyebrows had drawn together, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

Kit raised an eyebrow, suspicion settling into her heart. If she was the betting type, she would think that maybe the sniffler in the office over the last few days that seemed to grate at her skull was the good doctor himself.

Maybe he was just a habitual sniffler. Maybe not. Only time would tell.

“He will not inject himself into this investigation,” Hotch assured, and Kit wished for just one moment that she could keep a train of thought.

She desperately needed some coffee.

“Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?” Detective Russet asked.

“No, not this type of unsub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's unlikely to walk in, ask us... "Can I help you?" But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So how we handle them is very important,” Gideon said with conviction. There was no doubt in his voice.

“Check your canvass records,” Hotch said, “One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages.”

“What about registered sex offenders?” Russet offered.

“We've got somebody working on that right now.”

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen, everyone clear on that? Good luck. Thank you,” Gideon said with finality.

There was shuffling after that, everyone starting to move. They had two hours to find Billie, and damn it, they were going to find her alive.

-----

Kit and Elle went with the Copelands back to the house, hoping for a calm environment. Mr. Copeland fiddled with a pill box, annoyance and disbelief dripping off of him as he listened to Elle recount the step the investigation was taking.

“You took the police off the street?”

Elle explained it calmly, saying. “We believe your daughter was abducted by someone in the area and that she's probably still nearby.”

“Then shouldn't you be flooding the area with cops, knocking on doors?”

“It's not that simple,” Kit said gently, trying to deescalate the situation before it could escalate in the first place.

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Copeland shot back quickly.

“You're taking the meds again.” Mrs. Copeland sat down, staring with disbelief.

Mr. Copeland didn’t comment, instead saying, “Look... What exactly are you people doing to help get my daughter back?”

Mrs. Copeland didn’t let it go. “You're sick again, aren't you?”

“We want you to meet with the press…” Elle said before things could escalate.

“Both of you,” Kit added, training her eyes on one of the disheveled parents, and then the other.

Mr. Copeland was not impressed. “Press conference. That's what you have? You just said you're already taking the press that's running off the air.”

“We know,” Kit defended quickly, keeping her tone light. “This will be different.”

“Trust us, Mr. Copeland,” Elle asked.

The doorbell rang, and while Mrs. Copeland said she would answer it, Mr. Copeland stood instead.

“Just tell Marilyn what you need us to do,” he said.

It was quiet again before Mrs. Copeland addressed the two women.

“That was his second remission.”

“I'm sorry,” Elle said, and Kit nodded her agreement. Mrs. Copeland was defeated, and it showed in every way.

“Billie won't even talk to me anymore. How am I gonna tell her that her father's sick again?”

“One thing at a time, Mrs. Copeland. Once we find your daughter, you'll figure it out,” Kit said gently, placing a light hand on Mrs. Copeland’s shoulder.

All three women turned to the sound of Mr. Copeland opening the door and addressing whoever was outside.

“Can I help you?”

“Mr. Copeland, I'm Helen Godfrey from a few blocks away,” Kit heard the woman say. “I have printouts on all the sex offenders in the area. I think if you just... Look at any of these-”

Through the window, Mr. Copeland could be seen taking off towards his truck. Elle groaned quietly, moving towards the door as Kit quickly followed. There was a new tenseness in the air.

“What the hell? Mr. Copeland?” Elle darted out the door, Kit on her heels, “Mr. Copeland!”

The woman who had been at the door called to the agents’ backs as Mr. Copeland backed quickly from the driveway in his truck. “There are sex offenders in the area. I thought he should know.”

Kit and Elle turned quickly towards her, both women barring faces of annoyance that they didn’t even try to mask.

“Stupid.” Kit heard Elle say as she took her phone out.

She hit the speed dial for Hotch, something he’d programmed to her FBI phone on Monday, and made her voice even as the phone stopped ringing.

“Hotchner.”

“Hotch,” she said quickly, “We have a problem.”

“Mr. Jones isn't interested in pressing charges.”

The team, sans Kit, Reid, and Gideon, entered the room where the Copeland’s were being held. Kit was already there, sitting silently as Hotch and JJ tried to unravel the mess Mr. Copeland had made. Attacking a sex offender wasn’t the most horrible thing a person could do, but Mr. Copeland had still committed assault, and it hadn’t even been on the man that had taken Billie. The assurance that Mr. Jones wasn’t going to press charges allowed Kit to let out the breath she hadn’t quite realized she was holding.

Mr. Copeland was clearly not as relieved. “Am I supposed to be grateful? The bastard’s a pedophile.”

“No,” Hotch said seriously, “he isn't.”

“Did you check up on him?” Mr. Copeland came back with, glancing around at the other members of the team. “Did you ever search his house?”

“His sex offense was soliciting a prostitute. It had nothing to do with children,” Morgan assured from the doorway.

“But he's registered on-”

“Mr. Copeland, there are a lot of ways to get on that list. That's why accessing that type of information is supposed to be left up to law enforcement.”

Mr. Copeland ran a hand down his face and started to walk away, but Hotch didn’t stop. “We understand your frustration and your anger, but you're jeopardizing our efforts to save your daughter's life. Every minute spent chasing you is time we're not spending on Billie. So either get control of yourself and follow our directions or stay out of our way.”

There was a moment that Kit worried someone was going to explode. The tense energy in the air between Hotch and Mr. Copeland was palpable, and the rest of the team didn’t have to be empathic to feel what Kit was feeling.

Thankfully Mr. Copeland stayed quiet. Instead it was Mrs. Copeland that asked, “What would you like us to do?”

JJ spoke up for the first time, the women having let Morgan and Hotch address Mr. Copeland.

“Make a public appeal for information regarding a witness driving a dark green SUV.”

“Isn't he supposed to be the suspect?” Came Mr. Copeland’s voice.

“Yes, but when people hear ‘suspect,’ they can't see the guy next door as a monster,” Hotch took back over. “They can't imagine their neighbor could do something like this.”

“If he's a witness, he might be a hero,” Elle added.

Mrs. Copeland wasn’t clearly not convinced.

“Okay, but what if he thinks it's a trick? What if he panics or thinks it's too risky, and then he-”

“It's not just him that you'll be speaking to. It's his neighbors as well,” JJ said.

Mrs. Copeland looked at Kit, who had been silently taking in and noting the emotional output of each individual person in the room. No one felt hostile anymore, at least for the moment. Ms. Copeland looked at her with eyes of desperation.

Kit cleared her throat and nodded in agreement with JJ, Hotch, and Elle.

“People like to see the best in other people. You want to believe your neighbors are good, just like you’d want them to believe the same of you.”

She nodded once, moving her eyes when Morgan spoke.

“We've done everything we can to relieve the pressure on this man. We've taken the cops off the street. You won't have any standing with you on the dais. Only a local minister.”

“Hearing he isn't a suspect might calm him down as well. Right now he's under enormous stress, and we need him to believe, even if it's just for a little while, that we're way off the mark. That we're not close to arresting him,” Hotch assured softly. His voice, and his own frustration, had calmed greatly. Kit tilted her head as she watched him speak.

He is so much softer with her than he is Mr. Copeland. Why is that? Not that I’d ever ask him.

“Are you? Close to arresting him?” Mr. Copeland asked. The smallest wave of hope settled over the room.

“We need the public's help,” Hotch said simply. His voice carried the same calm he had offered Mrs. Copeland, and Kit had to physically stop herself from smiling.

Hotch was a stern man, and he was absolutely a believer in the justice system. If they did everything right, things would work. Mr. Copeland not sticking to the script had clearly annoyed and frustrated him. However, in that moment, he let Mr. Copeland see past that. He genuinely believed what he was saying, and Mr. Copeland needed that reassurance.

The Copelands agreed to the press conference. JJ led them to the front, cameras and reporters everywhere. Kit had left them to stand in the back, and she wasn’t surprised when Hotch took a place next to her, crossing his arms, lips in a hard line.

Kit had no idea how long these cases usually lasted, or what led them to create the profile they had. When she’d heard it all the pieces had made sense, but how they’d gotten there stumped her. She couldn’t understand what would lead a person to kidnap a little girl. Hotch did. Morgan and Reid did. Gideon certainly did, and Elle clearly had a grasp of it, too. Even JJ, who Kit knew was their communications liaison and was very much not a profiler, seemed to understand what was going on before she could. It didn’t bother her, per say, but the competitive pull she’d felt on the track with Morgan was creeping up her neck.

She didn’t let it show. Not like she had on the plane. Kit wasn’t going to lose control again, not in front of these people. Not in front of Hotch. He’d said she was the best for the job, and she was going to prove it.

He looked stern again, and if she wasn’t paying attention, she would have missed the anxious twitch in his jaw. Hotch was worried. Was it the Copelands? The fact that they weren’t as close as they wanted to be to catching Billie? Was it Mr. Copeland continuously flying off the handle?

Kit took a breath before she leaned over to Hotch, looking up and getting on her tiptoes so she could speak as quietly as possible.

“None of these reporters feel hostile to me…” She bit down on her lip, worrying at the end of her braid.

Hotch looked down and raised an eyebrow, glancing back to the crowd of reporters.

“But?” he asked quietly,

Kit swallowed and took a breath before speaking quietly, saying, “But there’s a… terseness. There’s a lot of people in here, so I’m not sure exactly who it is, but someone has something up their sleeve.”

“Who told you?”

“No one, sir. I can feel it. It’s not malicious, but it’s… something. There’s something.”

She lowered back from her toes, not missing the peak of curiosity as Reid glanced over to them. He had his eyebrows pulled together, arms crossed over himself not in the way Hotch had, but in a defensive position. She watched as he sniffled once before turning his eyes back to Mr. and Mrs. Copeland, both now pleading for their daughter.

Kit was waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for whoever it was that had the ace up their sleeve.

In the end, it was Hal, the reporter JJ knew from her vague past.

“So the body located by police earlier today is not Billie's?”

“Damn it,” Hotch breathed, staring at Mr. Copeland as his face changed to one of frenetic confusion.

“What?”

The atmosphere in the room had shifted suddenly.

“The female body-” the reporter was fast to continue.

JJ was faster.

“There'll be no more questions. Thank you.” Her words didn’t give away to any disagreement, and Mr. and Mrs. Copeland were led away.

Kit moved without thinking, meeting the grieving and confused parents by the door.

“What body?” Mrs. Copeland said desperately, looking at Kit like she was a lifeline. Fear and grief and desperation were rolling over Kit now, but she kept her face even and her voice calm. There wasn’t word on the body yet. It hadn’t been identified. There was a chance, and Kit was going to cling to that with everything she had.

“Agent Colghain, what are they talking about?”

“Please, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland. Please come with me and someone will answer every question to the best of their ability.”

She could feel Elle and Morgan right on the parents’ heels as she led them from the room.

Damage control is not the control we were going for, but here we are.

She hadn't led them far into the bullpen of the precinct before the desperation turned to anger.

“Is there a body?” rang Mr. Copeland’s voice.

Elle tried to deflect for the both of them, but Kit knew his anger was directed everywhere. “Please just come with me.”

“Tell me right now-” said Mrs. Copeland, “did you find a body?”

“Mrs. Copeland-” Morgan tried.

“Did you find Billie? Is my daughter dead?”

“A body was discovered,” came Hotch’s voice from the doorway, walking swiftly to the rescue. Kit desperately hoped he would give them more, but as it turned out, he didn’t have to.

“It's not Billie.”

The voice belonged to none other than Jason Gideon, and Kit had never been happier to see the man. She didn’t remember a time she’d ever been happy to see him at all.

There’s a first time for everything.

“The body that was found was much older and has been dead a number of days. Looks like maybe a junkie or an overdose.” His voice was even, matching even Hotch, and Kit could see Morgan and Elle physically relax into the news that the eleven year old was, as far as they knew, still alive.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Copeland asked desperately.

“Yes, I saw the body myself. It's not your daughter.”

Mrs. Copeland began to unravel. “My god, I can't- I can't…” She was beginning to cry, and Kit could feel the impending breakdown. She moved to intercept the haggard woman, but Elle beat her to it.

“Please just come with me,” the veteran agent said gently. She led Mrs. Copeland away, and Mr. Copeland followed quickly behind.

Gideon’s frustration was downplayed, but obvious.

“What the hell was that about?”

“A report asked them about the body,” Morgan supplied.

“Probably heard it on the scanner,” Hotch added, letting his tone slip into dejection.

The overall morale of the team was slipping, Kit could feel it, and with it her own. She knew that time was running out. She knew the statistics - Reid had told them to her at least three more times since the case had started. She knew how parents reacted when their child was gone, really gone, and there was no end in sight. She’d witnessed it and felt it with them.

“I should have prepared them for that,” JJ said, and she sounded guilty.

“We don't have anything to tell them yet.” Gideon’s voice sounded like he thought everyone was being dramatic, looking around at them with the eyes of a general watching his soldiers give up the war.

“Billie's running out of time,” Reid said, stating the obvious to them. He sounded almost as desperate as they all felt.

Kit couldn’t stop herself before she said, “So are the parents.” Her eyes met with Gideon's, and she felt the annoyance that came as he locked his eyes with hers. He broke and looked around at the rest of them before turning and moving. His voice came over his shoulder, and the six of them followed in his wake as he said, “Come on. A little hope, huh? We'll make it. We’ll make it.”

Kit found herself back in the office with Elle. They sat with Mrs. and Mr. Copeland while the others went to look through canvas records, or in JJ’s case, keep tabs on the media. Neither parent had spoken, and while Mrs. Copeland cried, Kit let herself become lost in thought. Her fingers were drumming along her pant leg again, which she figured was better than her leg bouncing a million miles a minute. She’d gotten some coffee earlier, but she needed more caffeine.

She let herself drift back to Gideon. Did she annoy him as much as it seemed she did, or was he just projecting because of the frustration of the case?

He probably just hates me. Hotch mentioned it might take them some time, and clearly Gideon is close with Reid, but he didn’t seem to be too close to everyone else. Maybe that’s just how he is.

Or, said the other voice in her head, maybe he sees right through you. You showed them on the plane. You try to be calm, and together, and not let the emotions overwhelm you. But they do. He can probably see it in your eyes, just like Mam and Dad always did.

“Oh, my god. Billie…” Mrs. Copeland’s quiet cries shook her from her thoughts, and Elle’s response beside her left her nodding her head.

“You have to be strong now. You have to.”

“Don’t let yourself think of anything bad. Let yourself hope,” Kit continued, and she saw Elle nod her head in agreement.

The door to the office opened, and it was Gideon that walked in.

“How we doing?” he asked once he sat in a chair facing the Copelands.

“All her life…” Mr. Copeland said, voice breaking. “When my little girl needed help, she came to me. And now, when she needs me most... There's...nothing.”

He stood up quickly, opening the door and walking out. Kit got up to follow, but Gideon shot her a look of warning. He shook his head, standing up himself.

“Stay,” he said, and he walked out the door to follow Mr. Copeland.

Kit could feel the hot blush crawl up her neck, and she tightened her hands into fists before she stood up.

“Kit-” Elle started, but Kit didn’t quite look at her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said calmly.

“But Gideon-”

“I need some water.” Kit turned to face the other two women, and she could feel the apprehension coming off Elle easily. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Copeland?”

The mother shook her head, wiping at her tears, and Kit took that as her cue to slip out the door behind Gideon. She pulled the door shut and easily found Gideon and Mr. Copeland. They were by the water fountain, speaking in hushed tones, and Kit found herself standing and staring at them. If Gideon didn’t trust her, that was fine.

No, it isn’t.

She would get over it. She would prove herself. She wasn’t a profiler, not like they were, but she knew people. Being there for people, handling people, reading people, that was half the reason she was even there.

Being told to stay, like a dog, was certainly not.

-----

“Colghain, let’s go.”

Hotch’s stern voice gave no room for question. Kit was standing by the water fountain now, telling herself just to drink some water. She didn’t need any coffee. At least, not any more than she’d already drank that day.

“Go where, sir?” She asked, though she had already fallen into step with him. Gideon was ahead of them, and she almost let her shoulders sag when she saw that he was pushing the doors open and quickly climbing into the passenger seat of one of their black SUVs.

“Morgan and Reid think they found our unsub, and if that’s true, you need to be with us.”

They might have found Billie. This could be a takedown.

Kit’s hand floated to where her gun was strapped to her belt and nodded quickly. This was the other half of her job. Make sure no one got hurt, check over victims, and if necessary, use her weapon to ensure the safety of her team and, in this case, Billie Copeland.

She climbed into the back seat, lower lip between her teeth and she took a breath. It was times like these she never had to worry about fidgeting, or becoming distracted, or excess energy. Adrenaline ruled the field, and her body was completely still while Hotch drove them to meet Morgan and Reid.

“Third house down on the right. We knocked on the door, but nobody's answering,” Morgan said as soon as they walked up. Reid finished the thought.

“His neighbor said he's definitely in there.”

“He's got a green Ford Explorer in the garage.”

“Break down the door,” Gideon said simply, and Kit could feel her eyebrows pull together as she stood on his right side.

“No,” Detective Russet said, “We don't have probable cause.”

Morgan was having none of it. “He's got a green SUV. He had a dog that died recently. He spends time in the park.”

“He’s pretending he's not home,” Hotch finished.

Russet continued her disagreement. “None of which are illegal. No judge is going to sign a warrant based on that information.”

“You're weighing the life of a child against the price of a door?” Gideon said, appalled, gesturing towards the possibly unsub’s house.

“I'm weighing the law against the price of a door.”

“The girl's in the house right now. The longer we stand here, the longer he has to finish her off.”

“I'll call a judge. If we go in there without a warrant, all that evidence will get thrown-”

Hotch cut Russet off as she dialed on her cell phone. “We're aware of the rules of evidence.”

“What do you propose that we do?” Kit asked seriously, her words directed towards Detective Russet. She had to make sure Russet felt heard and respected, or else the precinct could complain, and it would assuredly be her fault. Not that she agreed with Russet at all.

Her adrenaline was already pumping, just like she could feel from Gideon and the others. Everyone was ready, but Detective Russet was simply continuing to cite protocol.

“We tow his car, we impound it, and we search it-”

“Gideon!” Morgan called.

Kit hadn’t even realized Gideon had left her side and was running across the street towards the unsub’s house. They all followed quickly, Kit glad she wasn’t wearing heels like she’d seen JJ in. The one thing she’d told Monty she wouldn’t compromise were her black sneakers, and she’d never been more happy to disagree with Monty than she was as she ran down the street.

“Gideon, wait a minute! Gideon!” Morgan still called after him.

Kit, Reid, and Morgan had stopped in front of the house. Hotch was right on their heels. Gideon had grabbed a flower pot and was using it to smash the window of the house.

He was frantic. Kit could easily feel the frenetic energy coming off of him over the adrenaline the rest of them were sharing.

“Gideon, you need-”

Morgan stopped yelling as Gideon climbed through the window. There was a moment where no one moved, but then Morgan was yelling and kicking in the front door with practiced ease.

“Federal agents!”

“FBI!” Hotch yelled, and both men entered with their guns drawn.

It would have seemed Kit had done it a million times, not just five or six. She acted on instinct and training as she drew her own gun, position automatic and confident. She turned away from where the men had gone, clearing another part of the house.

She held her gun aloft as she checked the kitchen, calling once she had secured the area. No sign of the unsub.

“Clear!”

The next sound she heard was Gideon yell, and she moved towards the sound without a second thought. She came through the hallway just as Reid did, his own gun in hand, to see Morgan, Hotch, and then Gideon.

Gideon had his gun trained on the forehead of a terrified looking white man in his late twenties to thirties. Just like Hotch had said.

“Where's Billie Copeland?” Gideon was saying.

“Please don't hurt me,” the man stuttered, his panic washing over Kit. It didn’t affect her in the slightest. Her adrenaline ruled now.

“Gideon…” Morgan warned as Gideon cocked his gun, nearly pressing it against the man’s head.

“Please! Please put the gun down,” the man pleaded.

“Gideon!” Morgan tried again.

The unsub came flying towards Morgan, Gideon having thrown him down the hall.

“Get him out of here!” he nearly growled.

Morgan caught him with ease by the back of his shirt, dragging him down the hallway as Gideon called behind him loudly. “Tear the place apart!”

They tore the place apart. There was no sign of Billie. Hotch had moved outside, but Reid, Morgan, and Kit were all searching in what they assumed was the office of Curtis, the unsub. Reid had taken the computer, which Kit was more than okay with. Technology wasn’t something that came incredibly easy to her, and while she could do anything she needed to in the clinic, she wasn’t going to try going through the computer of a child abductor.

Morgan had taken on the task of going through Curtis’s VHS tapes. When she saw the first child she turned away, blocking the image and sound out of her consciousness.

She’d taken on the bookshelf. Her hands trailed along the spines, opening books, looking between them. Anything could be a clue as to where Curtis was holding Billie.

Kit didn’t even realize that Gideon had come in until Reid started speaking.

“Just as we expected, he has an extensive collective of deviant photos and cartoon downloads.”

“Partitioned in separate folders?” Gideon guessed, and Reid hummed in affirmation. “Access the internet history. Identify any pornographic sites, shut 'em down.”

“I'm uploading to Garcia as we speak,” Reid assured.

Kit had continued to work on the books, using her hyperfocus to her benefit. There was a moment of quiet before Gideon came on the other side of the bookshelf, pulling books down onto the floor without caring where they went.

He hadn’t touched the computer, or went to move Morgan’s tapes.

Does he really not trust me to look through these books?

She turned to look at him, eyes probably giving her away. Ari sometimes called them her “little green lasers” when they were directed his way.

He caught her eye, furrowing his brows before looking down and addressing Morgan.

“What is it? Is it all porn?”

“It's a lot of home movies with a bunch of kids in it. This one-you need to see it.”

Kit braced herself for the video when Morgan slid in the tape. Her focus was broken now, and she could block out the horrible sound she heard as the tape started.

It was Curtis’s voice, saying, “Shh. Remember what I'll do if you tell.”

She moved away from the bookshelf without a second though, walking out of the room without a word. Not one of the three men stopped her.

Hotch was outside, staring at the cop car Curtis was sitting in. Kit came alongside him, planting her feet as her hands fell into their normal rhythm. The adrenaline was ebbing now, and the jittering energy was coming back to her.

They stood in silence for a moment before Hotch spoke.

“Did you watch the tapes?”

She nodded lightly, not looking up at him. Hotch didn’t light a fire inside her like Gideon did. She wanted to prove herself to Hotch because he seemed to believe in her, even if just a little bit. She wanted to prove herself to Gideon so he would stop looking at her like she was trouble. Like she was there to get in their way.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Child pornography. His voice is in them, Hotch. He filmed those kids himself.”

Hotch was silent for a moment before he said, “And the computer?”

“Reid said it’s the same. Child pornography. Every bit of it.”

“Walk with me.”

Hotch started for the cop car, and she scurried after him. She was significantly shorter than the rest of the team, and it took her almost two steps for each of his long strides.

Hotch leaned against the cop car, speaking to Curtis through the open window.

“Your tapes, your computer, are full of child pornography.”

Kit hung back a step, watching Hotch talk to him clinically.

She could do clinically.

“Do you guys have a warrant?” Curtis asked, “I didn't see a warrant.”

“You're going to prison. Right now for how long is up to you. It's in your best interest to help us,” Hotch said, not addressing the fact that they very much did not have a warrant.

“I want a lawyer.”

I dtigh diabhail.

Kit knew the law. She’d listened to their older sister Ginny rattle off a million laws and rules when she was preparing to take the Bar. Curtis lawyering up? That was bad for them.

Hotch took it in stride. “Then we won't be able to talk to you anymore. We won't hear your side of the story, and we won't get Billie Copeland back to her parents. Now, you can help us.”

Kit could see what he was doing. If they could appeal to his human side, maybe he would help them. Maybe he would understand.

“You can save her life. You can save their whole family, their whole world,” she said gently, poking a bit around Hotch. She didn’t let her absolute hate for the man in front of her show. She gave him the same gentle look she would a patient. The same soft voice and understanding tone.

He was sick. Just not a sickness she’d ever treated.

“Make it right,” Hotch said.

Curtis was quiet. Tears streamed down his face.

“Can you close the door?” He said finally. He looked straight ahead. “It's cold.”

Hotch slammed the door shut on Curtis and took back off for the front door, Kit right at his heels. She could feel the absolute annoyance Hotch had coursing through his veins, and she couldn't stop herself from feeding into it.

She had really wanted it to work. She had wanted Curtis to choose to be good. To choose compassion. To choose to be a good person, like she truly believed anyone could choose to be.

“Curtis lawyered up,” Hotch said as they came in the door. Detective Russet and Gideon were in the living room.

Russet didn’t even try to show surprise.

“Of course he did.”

“That's the first smart thing he's done,” Gideon said, and annoyingly, Kit couldn’t disagree.

Hotch continued. “We broke into his house, and without Billie, we don't have the exigent circumstances we need to make this stick.”

Kit understood what that meant. They hadn’t had a warrant, after all.

“We may have to let him go,” she said, and she didn’t miss the look in Gideon’s eyes.

“I told you we should have waited,” Russet said.

“Yes, I know. We made a call, and if there are any recriminations, we will take full responsibility-”

“Hotch,” Gideon said, effectively cutting Hotch off. It seemed like he might be smiling. “He's the man.”

“Jason,” Hotch acquiesced, “I agree, but we may have been overly hasty.”

“Hasty?” Russet said, looking between the three agents, “You know as well as I do unless we actually find him in this house, any evidence we find is fruit of the poison tree.”

Kit watched as Gideon leaned forward, eyes fixed on a broom sitting against the wall. He stood up and walked for it, picking it up and touching the bristles.

Gideon pulled something while and thready off of the end of the bristles, eyes transfixed on it before he looked up at Hotch and said quietly, “Insulation.”

He walked quickly down the hall, his eyes scanning the ceiling. Kit, Hotch, and Russet were right behind him, and the grate at the end of the hall caught Kit’s eyes just as Gideon said, “There it is. Hotch, get me up here.”

Hotch grabbed a chair from a nearby room quickly, handing it over to Gideon.

“Here.”

Gideon didn’t waste time getting on the chair, pulling at the tabs on the grate until it opened.

“Up.”

Hotch nodded, not that Gideon could see him. Adrenaline was racing again, and everyone was focused on the hole in the ceiling now.

“Go. Go,” Hotch said.

Gideon did just that, hoisting himself into the ceiling. There was a moment before they heard him from above.

“She's here.”

Kit turned to look at Hotch for a moment before she called up to Gideon.

“Don’t move her!”

“Don’t move her?” Hotch said incredulously.

Kit’s eyes went sharp, she repeated her call.

“Don’t move her, Gideon! Don’t even think about it!”

“I’m bringing her down,” Gideon’s harsh voice came, and Kit turned, her voice loud and leaving no room for discussion.

“Stop! Do not move her, Gideon.”

“Colghain-”

“She could be hurt, Hotch. She’s got a broken arm, and she’s been held nearly twenty four hours by a pedophile. And she’s in the ceiling.” She gestured to the ceiling, and then to the small medical pack strapped to her belt, near her gun holster. “I was given this position to do two things. Emotional control and medical intervention.”

She let her eyes bore into his, giving every bit of conviction she could to her voice. “Get me up there, and let me do my job.”

There was a moment of silent standoff before Hotch’s eyes gave way. He glanced for the ceiling and said, “Jason, don’t move the girl. I’m sending up Colghain.”

“Hotch!”

“Don’t move.”

Kit got up on the chair, allowing Hotch to grab one before he grabbed her by the waist and helped her into the hole in the ceiling. There was no way she would have been able to reach on her own, and she was thankful that Hotch had hoisted her without her having to ask.

When she was safely in the small space, she noted Gideon’s hateful look. Annoyance and frustration came straight for her, but she pushed them to the side of her mind. She had literally no time to feel bad about the way Jason Gideon felt about her. All her focus was on Billie.

“Hi Billie,” she said gently, “my name is Kit. I’m a nurse. I’d love for Jason to be able to take you down from here, but I have to make sure you’re alright to move first. Is that okay?”

Billie had tear tracks down her face, and her mouth was red around the corners. She looked from Gideon to Kit before nodding, and Kit went to work quickly.

“Was there something in your mouth, honey?”

“A shirt. It was really tight,” Billie said quietly.

Kit brushed some of her tears away with her thumb before quickly checking her over.

“You’re being so brave, a leanbh,” she said gently, the Gaelic phrase slipping from her tongue without notice. It was only a few moments before she nodded, giving the little girl a smile.

“Okay, does anything hurt?”

“Not except my mouth.”

“What about your arm? Does it hurt?”

Billie shook her head, then stopped and nodded just slightly.

“A little bit. I broke it last week.”

Kit nodded, moving her elbow to check for range. She spoke quietly, a small smile on her lips.

“My sister broke her arm when we were ten. She had a pink cast just like this.”

Billie smiled, just a bit, and said, “Pink is my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Kit asked, satisfied with her range and ready to let Gideon take her. “That’s Monty’s favorite too. Let’s go see your mam and dad, huh?” she said finally, and Billie nodded.

Kit backed off, allowing Gideon to move into a position to help pick her up.

“Oh, I forgot,” he said to Billie. He handed her a small fluffy ball from his pocket. “I took that for luck. Let's bring it back to where it belongs, ok? Let's go see your mommy and daddy.” He moved her to where the opening in the ceiling was, calling down.

“Hotch! Here she comes. Here you go, sweetie. Watch your arm. Watch your arm.”

Once Billie was placed through the hole safely, Gideon turned on Kit. There was something in the air that she couldn’t place, but she let herself make eye contact with him. He wasn’t going to intimidate her, no matter how much everyone else respected him. He was a great profiler, and it was clear that he cared deeply about their cases, but she wasn’t going to let him stop her from doing her job.

It was quiet for a moment before he said simply.

“It’s in your eyes.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not all the time. Not with the victims. Not with local law. Hell, not even with the team, most of the time,” he continued.

Kit didn’t move.

“What’s in my eyes, sir?”

Gideon shrugged, full eye contact unwavering.

“There’s trouble in your eyes, Agent Colghain.”

Kit took a moment before she nodded.

She was calm, and collected. Some would have said shy. Gideon saw right through her, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deep seeded tugging in her chest. She finally chose to say, “That’s what my dad always said, sir.”

“As a compliment?”

“Are you giving me a compliment?”

A beat.

“No.”

She nodded once and shimmied to the opening in the ceiling. She looked over her shoulder at him quickly before responding honestly just before dropping through the hole.

“He wasn’t either.”

-----

They left the precinct quickly, but not before Mrs. Copeland had nearly crushed them all with hugs, including a very uncomfortable Reid. They’d left on a good note with Detective Russet, and Kit was confident they would not receive a negative review for the bureau to hold over her head.

The sun was down when they got to the jet, and everyone found a seat quickly. Reid, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch had sat at seats with tables between them while Gideon and Elle had taken two couches that faced one another. Kit didn’t want to intrude, so she walked to the back of the jet and settled herself in the corner of the farthest couch. She pulled her red notebook out of her backpack with a pen, having wanted to make some notes about the team for her own records. The more she knew about them, the better she could protect them, after all.

It wasn’t long before they were playing poker, using what Kit guessed were either Goldfish crackers or tiny pretzels as their chips. She didn’t think about the fact that they were all touching and then subsequently eating all the snack pieces, but she did note that Reid had continued to sniffle steadily through their time in Wilmington.

Maybe it was habitual. She made a note of it.

“I got absolutely nothing,” Morgan said in defeat, putting his cards out.

“Aw, nothing,” JJ agreed, putting her own cards down.

Kit suppressed her want to giggle, fiddling her pen and watching them with a grin. With their guards down and a successful case, the BAU team seemed almost human. They were playing and joking, and even Hotch seemed to be more relaxed than she’d seen him in her short time with the BAU.

Reid was looking guilty, but there was a grin on his lips, “Sss… two pair... Of aces,” he said, a playful smirk morphing onto his face.

It was the most human Kit had seen him act, and it was nice to see that he wasn’t just an awkward robot person. The feeling she pulled from him was safety, and that’s how he looked. He felt safe with his team, and with her away from them, not intruding, he was allowed to feel safe.

“Oh, get outta town! Why you always winning? Nuh-uh!” Morgan was laughing as he berated Reid.

“'Cause he cheats,” JJ interjected, and Reid shook his head.

“Poker?” He started to explain, “It's mathematics, it's statistics-”

“He's from Vegas,” Hotch finished.

Morgan laughed, “House rules.”

Reid nodded, looking slightly guilty, “There's that, too.”

They continued to play, restarting and reshuffling. Kit looked on still, reveling in the positive emotions that were filling the jet. There’d been so much frustration and worry over the last half of this day. She couldn’t believe that morning she’d gone into work at Quantico. Or that it was just the day before she and Morgan had accidentally met at the track.

My entire world has changed in a matter of hours.

She couldn’t wait to tell whoever was home when she got there. She’d have to take the metro home, but she didn’t mind. The energy in the room filled her, and she could let herself feel tired when she collapsed into her bed.

“Hey, Hotch,” Gideon said, and Kit had almost forgotten he was there. She wished she’d kept her fantasy.

“Yeah?”

“Did you send flowers to that tech room girl... Garcia… and say they were from me?”

Kit’s eyebrows raised, as did Morgan’s.

Hotch nodded, saying “Yeah,” as if it wasn’t going to confuse everyone in the jet.

“Why?”

Now Kit wasn’t the only one watching. Everyone was listening to Hotch and Gideon’s conversation.

“Jason, people need to know that they're important, and sometimes you forget that.”

His eyes darted, just for a moment, to Kit. They darted back to Gideon just as quickly, and Kit was thankful no one could see the blush spreading up her neck and across her face. The embarrassment she felt was all her own, and she took solace in the fact that her embarrassment, and her conversation with Gideon in the ceiling, was unknown to the others.

“I already sent her a gift,” Gideon said, “An mp3 player. They last longer. Unless you drop them or the battery dies, whichever comes first.”

“So she got two gifts,” Hotch said, sounding a bit strained.

“What if she thinks I'm sweet on her?”

Looks were exchanged between the team, and JJ even glanced at Kit, the two women sharing a smile and a laugh before Gideon shrugged and said, “Maybe not.”

They’d deplaned and gotten back to the BAU quickly, everyone grabbing the things they’d left. Kit snagged her thermos off of her desk, dreading cleaning out any coffee left in the bottom. Hotch told them he’d see them in the morning, and that they could finish their paperwork then. He assured Kit she could do the post-case paperwork and send it up on her break the next day, and that she could do her BAU-liaison paperwork on Friday.

She didn’t complain, and left just after Morgan. Gideon and Reid were still there, and she really didn’t want to be caught by Gideon and watch Reid take his side. Their relationship wasn’t lost on her, and she could tell Reid would take his side in an instant. Not that there were sides to take. Kit wasn’t going to argue with the BAU veteran. She would just prove him wrong.

Kit gripped the strap of her backpack as she stood at the metro stop. Trains came further apart at night, and the next one would take at least five minutes. She wondered if she would get home before Ari left for the clinic, but she wasn’t hopeful. He liked to go early and make sure Monty did her paperwork, which she always did, but that was just Ari. That was how he’d always been, and the girls loved him for it. The truest “type-A first born” of all time, Arizona Colghain.

She passed the time by trying to put her thermos in the side pocket of her backpack without having to take the backpack off, but it took only two minutes for her to drop it down to the pavement.

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh?” She mumbled to herself, desperately not wanting to bend down and pick up her thermos. Before she could, though, it was being thrust at her.

She blinked, reaching out for it and looking up into the eyes of a very tall stranger.

Or, a very tall Spencer Reid.

“Oh,” she said simply. “It’s you.”

Reid shrugged awkwardly, allowing her to take the thermos. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly not sure what to do now.

“Thanks,” she added, dread settling. What the hell was she doing on her metro platform? She’d never seen him before, not once, so there was no way he was taking the train.

“What language is that?” He said suddenly, and she blinked at him.

“What?”

“The language. When you dropped the cup, you, ah-” He moved a hand to rub at the back of his neck, sniffling softly. “You, well, you said something and it wasn’t in English.”

Kit looked up at him for a moment before she tilted her head. He was very clearly uncomfortable, and she wanted to make it lessen, but she was guarded. Who knew if he was on recognizance for Gideon or something.

Maybe he’s trying to find cracks. Gideon said my eyes held trouble, what if he’s sending Reid after me to find it?

She also hadn’t realized she’d spoken in the first place, and she was letting him shift more and more as she left his question unanswered. His fingers flicked in front of him before he shoved them back into his pockets, rocking back and forth just so, sniffling again and driving her crazy by doing so.

“I said something?” she decided on.

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“An bhfuil tú ag magadh,” he said fluidly. His accent wasn’t horrible, and he’d hit all of the sounds.

Kit couldn’t mask her surprise. “That was really good.”

“Thanks,” he said, shifting on the spot. “What does it mean?”

“I said, ‘are you joking.’ You know, because I dropped my cup.”

Silence settled over them again, and Kit thought for a moment that she was experiencing whiplash. Just hours ago he was clinical and confident. In some ways, she’d thought he sounded cocky, or a little full of his own brain. Now he was socially incompetent?

I could have been wrong. This was my first case, maybe that’s what things look like on a case. We haven’t really interacted outside of the office. Really the only one I’ve seen outside of work hours is Morgan. Maybe -

“Did you know that 48.2% of Americans speak a second language at home? The most commonly spoken languages are Spanish, with 41 million speakers, Chinese with 3.5 million, and Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines, with 1.7 million speakers in the United States. Actually-”

Kit refused to cut him off, mostly because she didn’t cut anyone off. It was rude. But the transition between horribly awkward silence to Reid now going on and on like he had on the jet confused her. Was he social, or not?

She didn’t have to think about it for very long, not that she had a lot more to give. She was feeling more and more exhausted by the minute, and she sighed in relief when the redline rolled to a stop in front of them. Reid stopped talking, hazel eyes watching her green ones as she connected their gaze. She could tell it made him uncomfortable, to be making eye contact, so she didn’t let it last.

“This is my train. See you Friday, I guess.”

She walked onto the train without a second thought, turning and offering an awkward wave over her shoulder. “Thanks again for saving my thermos.”

He gave a small wave as well, walking away from the door of the train.

Kit sighed and sat down in one of the empty seats, shoving her thermos in her bag and placing her head in her hands.

What the hell was that about?

[stunudo]

I just had a terrible thought on what if the cult successfully convert Reid and Garcia into one of them. That means that the team now has to deal with the fact that two of their closest friends, best agents and sweet human beings into cold-blooded killers and are helpless about it. I'm sorry about that, I think I'm getting too angsty about it

Okay, the cult can’t just be about murder. That’s not a sustainable process for any organization. Sorry, but Reid and Garcia are not going to become drones. If they do “become” members, it will be a ruse. It’s just not something that can happen, its not in their character. THEY ARE FUCKING GENIUSES.

[xtruss]

Oh Sweet Lord Satan, Is This Really How It Ends? After Twenty Long Years… Is This Finally Mercifully It?

"And just like that, on September 11, 2021, this forever nightmare is over. Yeah, I'm not fucking buying it either."

— Our Benevolent Empire | Nicky Reid | April 27, 2021 | Anti-Empire.Com

Oh Sweet Lord Satan, Is this it? Is this really how it ends? With Joe Biden struggling to pronounce Pashtun words on badly shuffled cue cards. Is this it? After twenty long years that could only accurately be described as goddamned, is this finally mercifully it? Twenty years! Twenty years in Afghanistan! Has it really only been twenty years? It feels more like forty or four hundred. Twenty years.Twenty years of drone strikes and bombing hospitals and wedding parties. Twenty years of digging graves for men who came home broken but alive. Twenty years of propping up dope lords, rapists, and pederasts. Twenty years of insisting that such beasts were moderates in the business of women’s lib. Twenty years of stacking corpses too high to accurately count the dead. Higher than those merciless mountains standing like gallows made from god’s serrated fangs. Twenty years of the longest war in America’s storied history of geostrategic bloodletting.

And now you say it’s over? Poof! Just like that. With a wave of Lady Liberties extinguished torch, with a wave of Joe Biden’s bony finger, this is how it ends? With that sad broken old fool of a death merchant announcing that he may be the fourth president to preside over this atrocity but he will also be the last. And just like that, on September 11, 2021, this forever nightmare is over. Yeah, I’m not fucking buying it either.

For starters, this plan carries the bizarre distinction of being a peace deal that violates a preexisting peace deal. Donald Trump’s diplomatic wunderkind, Zalmay Khalilzad broke his back doing back flips over buzz saws in Doha to get the Taliban killing machine to agree to a cease fire, and for an entire year, those grizzled imperium slayers sustained from murdering a single solitary pig-dog American based on the promise that we would finally fuck off by May 1, 2021. It was all set and ready to go. All the work had already been done. And Biden just drops in and wipes his ass with the thing, and for what? Another four months and a photo-op? You’re gonna put our precious boys and girls in uniform on the chopping block for that? Why? Seriously, what the literal fuck?

But that’s not all folks! Biden’s little speech, and that is indeed all this peace plan amounts to, a speech from a killer in Depends, promised the removal of all US and NATO coalition troops. It said absolutely nothing about the Pentagon’s 13,000 contract killers. It said nothing about the unknown number of CIA agents and black-ops operatives active in country. It said nothing about the lethal air war that kills more women and children than all the M4’s and AK’s combined. Peace? What fucking peace? This thing that has been pompously promised to us isn’t peace. It’s a lie. Fool’s peace. If I were just a little more paranoid, I might suspect that this deal was designed to fail. Then again, is that really so far fetched considering the Biden regime’s hundred day history of duplicitous diplomacy?

If I could boil Joe Biden’s fool’s peace doctrine down to an easy formula, I would say it goes something like this. Make a great big ambiguously worded media friendly peace announcement without ever signing anything on paper. While those imbeciles in the Fourth Estate fawn over the majesty of geriatric Camelot, stall and drag your feet on what few details you provided and leave ample room for tax funded third parties to sabotage the thing. Then once the other side loses patience with this nonsense and lashes out, blame them from your high horse for spoiling your glorious peace offering and continue the violent status quo with the newly minted pedigree of “Hey man, we tried.” Like I said, this would all sound paranoid even to a tinfoil hat Yippie like me if we hadn’t done it twice already.

We did it with Yemen, where Biden made another vague and flowery speech about ending all American support for ‘offensive’ Saudi military operations in the region while promising a commitment to aid in that psychopathic kingdoms defense against their victims. Since then there has been virtually zero discernable change in our involvement with that ghastly holocaust. The Saudis continue to pulverize Yemen with American war toys and the United States continues to aid those butchers in their decidedly offensive blockade which threatens to starve children under the age of 5 in the hundreds of thousands. And as if that weren’t diabolical enough, we simultaneously deny the very existence of a blockade while fingering our own puppet in exile, Abdrabbuh Mansur Hadi for the the crime that isn’t happening. And naturally, every time a Houthi gets lucky enough to nail a Saudi gas station we blame them for not being serious about peace.

And we’re doing the same goddamn thing to Iran. Biden ran on restoring the 2015 JCPOA Nuclear Deal that Trump unilaterally violated. But the moment Biden shuffles into office, he finds all kinds of reasons to keep the Trump era sanctions cooking. Meanwhile, Iran is left economically crippled while COVID ravages their people like blanket-born small pocks and Israel chucks cyber terrorist attacks at them like tomahawks. Under those dire conditions, Iran has seen it fit to raise plutonium levels to grades never even attempted before. Contrary to Biden’s campaign promises, relations have gotten worse with Tehran even while we engage in pussyfooting peace talks through EU negotiators.

What the shit? Can we just have Trump back? At least he trampled on peace deals without all the crazy mind games. But that’s what Joe Biden’s fabulous fool’s peace is really all about, achieving the same stupid results while looking smart doing it. You see, nothing substantial ever really changes with America’s foreign policy. The same unelected professional war mongers maintain their footing in the Pentagon, State Department, and the CIA. The same goals are always in place, dismantle the Muslims, isolate the Chinese, and destroy the Russians. What American’s vote for is the PR team for these hellacious shenanigans, and with Biden they hired the same clean up crew that made America look professional again after 8 years of Bush overplaying his hand in Iraq. What we’re seeing now is another session of imperial cleanup after Trump’s single term abortion. That’s what you idiots really voted for, the propaganda of a lesser evil.

What? You didn’t think they were serious about change, did you? Silly Americans, democracy is for kids. Peace is for tinfoil hat Yippies like me. But I’ll keep ranting if you keep reading.

— Source: Exile in Happy Valley