#sad jj should be a crime

[0mg-bird]

Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

[briefinquiries]

Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table. 

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case. 

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer.  His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.  

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.  

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle. 

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying. 

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”  

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit. 

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.  

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them.  Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.  

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.  

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.  

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.  

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out. 

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest. 

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time.  His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home. 

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.  

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket.  You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push. 

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another. 

But you had a way of always pulling him back in.  Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.    

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings. 

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right?  So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.  

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.  

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.    

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”  

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims. 

“No race preference either,” Luke observes. 

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.  

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.  

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”  

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.  

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.  

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?” 

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds. 

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”   

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works. 

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.  

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”  

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask. 

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off. 

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” 

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers.  Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway. 

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.  

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.  

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone.  “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”   

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.  

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread. 

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests. 

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.  

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.  

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder.. 

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead. 

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.  

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.  

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.”  You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die. 

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”  

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.  

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor.  Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.  

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows.  You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer,  but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view. 

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.  

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see.  The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.  

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.  

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.    

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.    

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun.  “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.  

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.  

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly. 

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.  

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him.  “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.  

Even if it means I don’t. 

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer.  “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.  

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.  

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers 

But you ignore him.  

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet. 

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.   

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters. 

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.  

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.   

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.” 

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill. 

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.  

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.  

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement. 

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.  

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet.  “I said get in!” he screams. 

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.  

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.  

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.  

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.  

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.  

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated. 

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.  

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered. 

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe. 

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.  

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.   

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.  

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.    

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.  

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.   

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.  

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.  

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.  

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.   

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him. 

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you.  That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else. 

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.  

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it. 

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you. 

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present. 

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours. 

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?  

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.  

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.  

Until you see him. 

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.  

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut  Your smile quickly melts away. 

… 

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer.  He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.  

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.  

But he ignores you.  

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence. 

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart. 

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether. 

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.  

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.  

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.    

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.     

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat. 

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did. 

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet.  “What were you thinking?” 

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head.  “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying. 

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.”  She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more. 

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start. 

“Okay,” you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.  

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently. 

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.  

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.  

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words. 

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.  

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.  

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space. 

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this. 

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.  

“What did I do?” you plead. 

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.  

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain. 

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you.  “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?” 

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense. 

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment. 

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain. 

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now. 

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever. 

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true. 

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.” 

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.” 

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach. 

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper. 

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

[mggslover]

How the Unsub Stole Christmas ❆

A Holiday to Remember: part 2

In which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: crime, angst, smut (18+), fluff, found family Content warnings: graphic cm case descriptions!!, mentions of shitty childhood, reader getting in some unsub trouble, oral (f receiving), p in v sex. Word count: 9k 🫣 i swear it reads really fast A/n: read part 1 first! writing this story genuinely brought me so much joy, and i hope you will experience the same while reading this. this will be my last fic for the year 2024, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support, i can't wait to see what the new year will bring for this blog. don't forget to interact with this post if you've enjoyed! 🎄🤍 dividers by @issysh3ll

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you’d be called out for another case. Still, the disappointment lingered thick in the air.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Garcia murmured softly, her tone sad. JJ wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in for a side hug. “Don’t worry,” she reassured gently. “The trip isn’t over yet.”

Penelope seemed satisfied enough with that answer, but then spoke up again. “I don’t want to stay here on my own. It’s spooky knowing someone got murdered just miles away.”

“You can come with us to the station. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Y/L/N, you’ll head to the crime scene. A deputy will be waiting for you there.” Hotch instructed. 

You exhaled softly and gave a brief nod. Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes filled with that quiet empathy you’d come to recognize over the years.

“Good luck,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“Thanks,” you replied, your words equally soft. “You too.”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the crime scene. The neighborhood was so small it hardly felt like one—just a handful of houses scattered across large, snow-dusted plots of land. It looked peaceful, almost idyllic, as if nothing could ever disturb the calm. The street was adorned with Christmas lights and festive decorations. The only thing slightly out of place was a crack in the bench beside one of the houses. Otherwise, the neighborhood looked like it had stepped right out of a holiday card.

As you stepped out of the car, you noticed the few neighbors who hadn’t yet been driven inside by the cold. They stood in clusters in front of their homes, bundled up in scarves and coats, watching the scene unfold with cautious curiosity.

You looked over at Prentiss. “We should start doing some interviews—maybe send a few of them over to the station.”

She nodded, her expression focused. “Got it.” Without another word, she made her way toward them.

You followed Rossi and Derek toward the red wooden house, where the Deputy awaited by the front door. He looked young—probably around your age. 

Rossi introduced you to Deputy Wilson. Wilson gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry it’s just me. Almost the whole department is unavailable because of the holidays.”

“Convenient timing for a murder,” you mused.

“The scene’s been left as it was when we found it,” Wilson continued. “The back door’s been forced open, and you can see boot prints in the snow leading to the backyard.”

Morgan immediately stepped forward. “I’ll get a shot of those prints for Garcia,” he said, already heading toward the backyard.

Wilson looked at you and Rossi. “You want to take a look inside?”

You paused before heading in, shaking the snow from your boots and making sure not to use the doormat—the one engraved with the names of the family members. It felt wrong, almost disrespectful, to dirty the only thing that might be left of them. 

You took in a sharp breath as you entered the house. Your gaze was first taken by the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, decorated in red and gold. But then you noticed the bloody mess underneath it. Four bodies—two adults and two children—lay scattered on the floor, broken Christmas ornaments surrounding them, as though the killer had dropped them carelessly after his violent act. The mother and father were draped over each other, their throats slit cleanly. The teenage daughter, too, had her throat cut, but her body was twisted in a way that didn’t seem accidental. The small boy��no older than ten—was slumped between them, his face frozen in an expression of terror, a look that would haunt you for days.

The scene before you was a sickening parody of a perfect Christmas. But the most disturbing part wasn’t the carnage—it was their faces. Each of them wore a grotesque, unnerving smile, painted onto their lips in blood. It was a mockery of joy, an image of happiness forced onto the dead.

You felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat and turned away, needing a moment to breathe. It was then that you noticed the walls, once filled with smiling family photos were now smeared with blood. Shattered frames lay scattered on the floor, as if the killer had intentionally destroyed the family’s history, piece by piece. 

Rossi spoke first. “The unsub who stole Christmas,” he mused, his tone almost playful despite the grim reality.

You gave a sharp exhale, a brief scoff escaping your lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You put on your gloves and picked up a shattered picture frame from the floor. You handed it to Rossi without a word. He took it, studying it for a moment before speaking again. “One thing’s for sure—this wasn’t just a murder. This is deeply personal.”

You nodded, scanning the room. The starkness of the crime scene was still sinking in, but your mind was already running through the facts. “The execution was meticulous,” you murmured, your gaze flickering over the room, “but the aftermath... messy. The unsub rushed out of here—didn’t even bother closing the back door behind him, and those footprints? Almost like he didn’t care at all about leaving evidence. We might even get lucky and find DNA on the bodies.”

Rossi considered it. “It could be that he was in a hurry. In a small neighborhood like this, people will notice anything out of the ordinary. He probably knew he had to move fast.”

You hummed in return. “It still doesn’t add up. You can’t plan a murder with this much detail and then completely overlook how to cover your tracks afterward.”

You took another slow turn around the room, examining the details. Every piece seemed to add to the strange puzzle, but none of it fit together. As you passed the fireplace, something caught your eye: a piece of paper tucked into one of the stockings. You reached for it carefully, your fingers brushing the corner stained with blood.

You unfolded it with precision, revealing the scrawled words in black ink. The sentence was short and written in Latin, a language you hadn’t encountered in years. You stared at it, furrowing your brow as you tried to make sense of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Latin, would you?” You asked Rossi, half-joking, though the seriousness in your voice remained.

Rossi looked up, his expression a mix of confusion and dry humor. “Does it look like I know Latin?”

You smiled, already pulling your phone out of your pocket and speed dialing Spencer. As the phone rang, you turned your attention back to the paper, the blood spatter still making your stomach turn.

“Hey,” you breathed out as he picked up the phone after the second ring.

“Hey,” Spencer replied. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft with concern, your single syllable being enough for him to decipher how you feel.

You glanced over your shoulder at the murdered family, swallowing hard before turning away. “I will be,” you responded. Once that fucker is behind bars.

You straightened, pushing the thoughts away, and focused on the task at hand. “I’ve just found a piece of paper at the crime scene. It’s a text written in Latin. I figured it’d be quicker to ask you than wait for Garcia to look it up.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment. “Good call. What does it say?”

You glanced at the paper again, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Spencer spoke, his voice calm but precise. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse. ‘Now they know you’re not perfect.’” His perfect Latin pronunciation made you wince at how poorly you’d read it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? A taunt?”

Spencer’s voice was thoughtful. “Sounds like he’s trying to prove something. It’s definitely personal.”

You exchanged a look with Rossi, who was standing nearby, holding the broken picture frame. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been thinking. Whoever this unsub is, he knows the Reynolds family intimately.”

“Garcia’s already digging into the family’s background,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, already a step ahead.

“Good,” you muttered, relief washing over you for a moment. “How are things going over there?”

“JJ’s been trying to reach family, but they don’t live nearby,” Spencer answered. “A snowstorm hit. I’ve been tracking the meteorological data, and the chances of them making it are close to zero.” 

You nodded, a dull ache settling in your chest. “Well, I’m going to keep looking around here. The bodies will be picked up soon to go to the lab, and then I’ll be heading over to the station.”

“Alright,” Spencer replied, his tone warmer now. “I’ll see you there. Be careful.”

“Always am,” you said, offering a small smile even though he couldn’t see it.

The words on the note kept drifting through your mind. Maybe it was the sentiment that came with Christmas—or maybe it was the fact that, up until now, you were having a perfect holiday, something you never thought you’d get to experience—that made the scene remind you of your childhood. How everything looked so joyous from the outside, especially during the holidays. But if you looked closely, you’d see the cracks. The ornaments on the tree, hastily glued together, their edges jagged and uneven. The hole in the wall, cleverly concealed behind your stocking. 

You were probably overthinking it. After all, it wasn’t the family that was broken like yours was—it was the unsub who had shattered their picture-perfect life.

Rossi’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay, kid?”

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the past and into the present. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

You and Rossi walked into the secluded room the Sheriff had arranged for the team, exchanging your findings with Morgan and Prentiss along the way. You’d made a quick stop at a Chinese takeaway to grab food for everyone, knowing the team needed fuel for the long hours ahead.

The rest of the team was already seated around the table, and Reid was in the middle of showing Hotch something on the map of the neighborhood.

“Oh, you guys are the best!” Penelope sighed, her voice full of appreciation as she caught sight of the plastic bags you were carrying.

“We couldn’t leave you to go hungry,” Emily responded with a grin.

You took a seat closest to where Spencer was standing, and he naturally slid into the chair beside you. You reached into the bag and pulled out the only plastic fork, knowing he’d struggle with chopsticks. He flashed you a grateful, closed-lip smile as he took it from you.

Once everyone had filled their plates, the conversation turned back to the case.

“Garcia dug up some useful info,” JJ began. “Stephen Reynolds owned a construction company that’s on the verge of going bankrupt. It’s possible the unsub was an employee who got fired—or was cut loose because the company couldn’t afford him anymore.”

“It seems like the whole family was targeted,” you added, leaning forward. “The note was left in one of the children’s stockings. It doesn’t feel like the murder was just directed at Stephen.”

“That’s why we need to find out more about the Reynolds family outside of their neighborhood,” Hotch said. “The employees at the construction company could have insight. It’s clear the neighbors aren’t going to give us much.”

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, a skeptical look on his face. “Did they really not give you anything? The neighbors, I mean.”

Prentiss shook her head. “Nothing useful. They kept insisting that the Reynolds’s were a perfect family. They even seemed offended when I pressed for more.”

“That doesn’t sit right. The note specifically mentioned how the Reynolds’s are not perfect.” Rossi replied. 

“I gotta give it to them, though,” Garcia chimed in. “The Reynolds’s are model citizens. The parents were both heavily involved in charity, and the kids have won multiple prizes in spelling bees and other competitions.”

“Has anything bad ever happened in that neighborhood?” Morgan asked, clearly skeptical about the idea of perfection.

Penelope clicked away on her laptop. “Well, there was a fire in one of the houses about ten years ago, because of damaged Christmas lights.” She made a sad face as she continued searching. “Oh, and a cat got stuck in a tree once… didn’t make it.”

“What happened to the family in the house?” Spencer asked.

Penelope’s fingers paused over the keys. “Uh, let me see… The Eriksens died from smoke inhalation. Oh… this is sad. They left a child, Christopher Eriksen. He was put into foster care when he was just eight.”

“Did the Reynolds’s live there when that happened?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, they did. Actually, they organized a fundraiser to build a bench with the parents’ names engraved on it, in their memory.”

You felt your pulse quicken at the mention of the bench. Something about it seemed strangely familiar, but you couldn’t trust your mind right now—not with everything still scattered from the case, and the ghosts of your past tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, but you decided to ignore it, keeping your focus on Hotch as he spoke up. 

“It’s best if we head back to the cabin to rest up,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and the station’s closing tonight so everyone can spend time with their families.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the relief of getting some rest evident on their faces. But as the team began gathering their things, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You hated the idea of putting the case on hold, even if it was just for the night. The face of that little boy kept haunting your thoughts, his wide eyes silently pleading for answers, for peace. You couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Spencer’s hand snakes up on your shoulder, his warm hold holding you in place. His lips barely moved as he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, shaking your head.

The entire car ride had been silent. Spencer’s gaze would occasionally flicker over to you in the backseat, but you kept your eyes fixated on the road, watching the scenery blur past.

The silence stretched on as you said your goodnights to the rest of the team and walked toward your shared room with Spencer. As you both got ready for bed, there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Now, lying in the king-sized bed, you both stared up at the ceiling, the quiet stillness between you thick with unspoken words.

“When are we finally going to talk about what’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, careful but insistent.

You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, your words coming out a little too quickly.

“There’s obviously something wrong,” he pressed gently. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” you answered, your voice softer now, more honest. Usually, Spencer never had to press. There was something about him—something warm and patient—that made it easy to open up, to share your thoughts without fear of judgment. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t just the case. It felt personal, something you couldn’t fully explain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said, thinking aloud. “It’s just… something’s off. And I don’t know if it’s just me.”

“What do you feel?” His question was quiet, but his concern was clear.

You hesitated. “It sounds stupid,” you muttered, brushing it off.

“Nothing you could say would sound stupid to me.” His words, soft and sincere, made your chest tighten with warmth. You turned your head to look at him, noticing the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered on you.

“You thought it was stupid that I shower at 115 degrees,” you said with a playful smile.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the tension easing just a little. “I don’t think it’s stupid that you like it,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just think it’s stupid that you’d risk hurting yourself over it.”

His eyes warmly looked at you. One hand rested underneath his pillow as he lay on his side. You turned toward him, mirroring his position.

"I’m really struggling with this case," you softly admitted, trying to keep eye contact, though your gaze flickered down, betraying the weight of your words.

“Was it hard seeing the crime scene?”

"Yeah," you choked out, your throat tight. You blinked quickly to try to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “It was... it was horrible.”

His hand reached out to gently rub your bare arm under the blanket. "It’s completely normal to feel affected by what you saw," he began, his voice steady but laced with the kind of empathy that only someone like him could offer. "Witnessing something as violent and horrific as the bodies of two children—it’s traumatic. The brain processes trauma in complex ways, especially when it involves young victims. According to studies in neuropsychology, traumatic experiences, particularly those involving children, can cause the brain to release a surge of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. This flood of chemicals can lead to acute emotional responses, such as anxiety and flashbacks.”

“I’ve been experiencing flashbacks,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You met his gaze, looking for reassurance, and he gave you the space to speak, waiting patiently. “It actually started earlier today, when we arrived at the cabin. I’ve never experienced a Christmas like this, you know, the kind that feels warm and joyful. I- I don’t know if I’m making connections that aren’t there, but the feeling I had in that house was the same feeling I used to get when I was growing up.”

He tilted his head. "What feeling?"

“...Jealousy.”

His eyebrows knitted. “Jealousy?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, gathering your thoughts. “You could feel so much rage in there. Everything that made the home feel homey—that warmth, that love—was completely shattered. The way the unsub positioned the family members under the Christmas tree, the way the note was tucked into the stocking… There’s a reason for it. Christmas represents this idealized view of perfection. I don’t think the message was to prove that the company going bankrupt is some sort of imperfection in the family’s picture-perfect life. No, it feels like the unsub was jealous of their happiness. Of the fact that they had a family who seemed perfect—something he never had. He wanted to destroy it. To ruin their happiness. He could never have it, so he shattered the illusion of perfection entirely.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing your words. “So you think the Reynolds’s were targeted as surrogates?”

“I guess so. But you don’t just stumble across a neighborhood as desolate as theirs.” you responded.

“It could still be one of the employees of the construction company. If Stephen bragged about his perfect family to the wrong person, it could have triggered something.”

You hummed in agreement, but Spencer could see there was more on your mind. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

“As I got older, I learned that blaming others wasn’t going to make me feel any better about my situation. It’s like the unsub hasn’t realized that yet. The way he executed this crime—it’s almost like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so meticulous in setting everything up, and then once he got what he wanted, he just… walked away. There was no care for the aftermath, no consideration of what would happen afterward.”

“Do you think the unsub could still be a child?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Your mind clicked, and for the first time, the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together. “How old was the kid when he was put into foster care?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Eight. Why?” Spencer's confusion was evident.

“It’s been ten years since that house caught fire. That would make him eighteen now, and—"

Spencer’s eyes widened as realization struck. “And that he just got out of foster care.”

"Exactly," you said, rolling out of bed and storming downstairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Spencer called after you, quickly grabbing his cardigan from the chair in the corner of the room before hurrying to catch up.

“Be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone.” You instructed, feeling Spencer’s presence behind you as you moved toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he hissed in a whisper as you opened Garcia’s laptop on the table. You didn’t respond, your fingers already flying over the keys as you settled into a chair.

Spencer huffed, knowing full well there was no stopping you once your mind was set. He hovered behind you, draping the cardigan over your shoulders. “I’m not covering for you if Garcia finds out,” he warned, glancing over your shoulder at the screen.

“That’s fine. I know exactly what to say to win her over,” you said nonchalantly, clicking away. In your mind, the image of Spencer in the shower was still vivid—a story you could easily use to distract Penelope if it came to that.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you found the file. “Here it is,” you muttered, eyes scanning the information on Christopher Eriksen. You clicked to open it fully, Spencer already reading ahead of you.

“They found bruises all over his body when he was put into foster care,” he read aloud, his voice tense as the words sank in.

You leaned forward, your breath catching. “This is it,” you murmured. “His parents— they must’ve bought into that ‘perfect family’ image of the neighborhood, but behind closed doors, they were hiding this. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for him? Everyone thinking his parents were saints, while they were hurting him? All the while, they’re the ones who get a memorial bench, their lives celebrated while they tortured him.”

“It was on Christmas that he was put into foster care. Now, it’s the first Christmas since he’s been out. It makes sense to go back to the place where it all started,” Spencer concluded.

“I need to go there,” you said urgently, slamming the laptop shut.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Spencer asked, bewildered. He immediately followed you as you rushed to the door, still in your pajamas. “You’re not seriously planning on going out like that?”

“It’s just a quick peek. I need to see if I was right about the bench,” you said, almost to yourself, already focused on the task ahead. You didn’t even glance behind you as you pulled on your shoes and yanked open the front door, wrapping Spencer’s cardigan tighter around yourself to ward off the cold.

In moments like these, Spencer knew exactly who had trained you. You were unmistakably like Gideon—determined, single-minded, and often impulsive once your mind was set. And that, in turn, always left Spencer in a state of mild panic.

“You can’t drive at night,” he said, his voice rising with concern as he followed you into the snow-covered yard. “You have nyctalopia!”

You didn’t stop, your focus unwavering. “You should take night-blindness seriously, it takes forever for your pupils to dilate, and by that time, you’ve already missed the stop sign or, I don’t know, hit a pothole or something. Your contrast sensitivity goes down, so objects blend into the background, and—did I mention the glare from headlights? Because that’s a huge problem, and it makes it worse! You’re already having trouble seeing, and now the glare from every car that passes is just blinding you. It's like trying to navigate in a fog, but it’s just light fog, which—okay, that’s a really bad analogy, but you get the point!”

His words fell into the background as you continued walking, your mind fully occupied with proving your theory. The case had been driving you mad. If you could just confirm that the bench was broken—that Christopher was the one who’d done it in a moment of anger—everything would click. The case would be solved. You’d give the Reynolds family peace. And, selfishly, you’d give yourself peace.

“Please,” Spencer begged, now standing in front of the car door, blocking your path. “If you’re going, at least let me drive.”

His comment made you halt in front of the car. “You hate driving,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather be uncomfortable for a few minutes than risk something happening to you,” he admitted.

You stared at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for how much he cared, how he believed your theory and was willing to go along with you. 

You reached out and took his hands. It was a gesture he rarely tolerated from anyone, but you’d learned over the years that Spencer appreciated it when it came from you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thanks, Spence,” you said softly, the words simple but your voice full of appreciation.

He swallowed, his eyes softening as he nodded. “We’ll just take a quick look, right?”

“I swear,” you promised, a reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “Just a quick look.”

He sighed, still clearly uneasy but unwilling to argue. You handed him the car keys and moved to the passenger side, sliding into the seat. 

—————

Spencer slowed the car as you neared the familiar area, the headlights casting long shadows over the snowy driveway.

"Let’s stop the car here," you suggested. The thought crossed your mind just in time—it would be very inappropriate to drive into a quiet neighborhood with an unknown car at this hour, especially after a murder had taken place.

You and Spencer stepped out of the car, the cold biting at your skin as you walked side by side. You stayed close to him, partly to keep warm, partly to follow his tracks through the snow, the dark pressing in around you. The Christmas lights that had lit up the neighborhood earlier were now off, leaving everything shrouded in an eerie quiet.

You made your way to the bench. Your hand skimmed over the smooth wood, lingering on the top right corner where you felt a distinct break—something sharp and jagged where a piece had clearly been broken off. You exhaled in relief. You were right.

Spencer’s hand shot out to gently grab your wrist, his fingers warm against the cold night air. "Careful," he said, his voice low but insistent. "You don’t want splinters. Stay here, I’ll grab a flashlight from the car."

You nodded, watching as his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the thick darkness around you.

Alone now, you scanned the area. Everything was still and silent, save for the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet. Your eyes were drawn to a dim light flickering from inside the rebuilt house where the Eriksens used to live, just past the bench. Curiosity nudged you forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, your feet were already moving toward the light.

You crept closer to the window, standing on your toes to peer inside. The house was barely furnished, still very much in the process of being worked on before it could be sold. You pressed your hands against the cold glass, forming makeshift goggles with your fingers, your face just inches away from the window as you tried to get a better look.

A sudden pressure on your stomach snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could react, an arm tightened around your waist, yanking you away from the glass. For a brief moment you thought Spencer was playing some kind of prank, trying to startle you—but the movement was so fast and forceful, you knew Spencer would never grab you that aggressively.

Your gasp caught in your throat, immediately silenced as a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Panic surged, but your body went stiff when the sharp edge of a knife pressed to your throat. You didn’t need any further confirmation that this was the unsub.

"I don’t know who you are," the voice rasped, low and dangerous, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. "But you shouldn’t have shown up here."

The tension in his voice was unmistakable. You could feel his rage, his plan disrupted by your unexpected presence. Every instinct screamed at you to fight back, but you remained frozen, knowing that one wrong move could end it all.

“I didn’t plan on killing anyone innocent, but you’ve put yourself in this situation,” he spat, his grip tightening on the knife.

In that fleeting moment, you made a decision. Taking a leap of faith, you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. The sudden bite startled him, and by sheer luck, he loosened his grip on the weapon.

“Christopher!” You shouted, the name ringing out with urgency.

It was enough to catch him off guard. In that instant, you turned, quickly positioning yourself with a better angle. He was taller than you—still, just a boy, consumed by something far beyond his control. His pain was evident, lurking beneath the fury in his eyes. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Who are you?” His voice was strained, the words gripping with suspicion and confusion.

“I’m here to help you,” you said sincerely, keeping your voice steady.

“No, you’re not,” he denied.

“I swear I am. I know what happened to you. I know what your parents did to you.”

Without warning, he shoved you hard against the house. Your head slammed into the window, a sharp pain exploding in your skull. “You don’t know anything!” he screamed.

“I do, Christopher. I do!” The words came from a place of desperation, your breath ragged. “I understand. I know how much this eats at you, how alone you feel because you’re the only one who knows the truth. But it doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. The truth will come out. People will know what your parents did, what really happened here. You’ll get what you want, the world will see that they’re not perfect.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something soft, vulnerable. 

“They all knew what happened!” He said in anger, pointing at the houses surrounding you. “They all knew and no one said anything!” He shook his head, “I’ll never get what I want. It’s too late for that.” he muttered bitterly.

Despite his words, you felt a flicker of hope. He was talking. He was listening. That had to count for something.

“It’s not too late, Christopher,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I thought the same thing once. But family… family isn’t just the people you’re born to. You can build your own, one that will love you despite everything. I’ve got that family now.”

He swallowed hard, his face momentarily flickering with doubt. “I wish I could believe you,” he said, his voice quiet, tinged with regret.

And then, in a flash, his arm shot out. Instinctively, you braced yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable strike.

As the seconds stretched on, memories—both regrets and cherished moments—flashed before your eyes, a cruel reminder of everything you had to lose.

But then, a loud thud echoed in the night. Christopher crumpled to the ground, his body going limp. You whipped your head up, heart in throat, and saw Spencer standing behind him, the butt of his gun covered in blood, the impact of the blow knocking Christopher out cold. 

A shaky breath escaped you, half a sob, half a gasp of relief. You stumbled toward Spencer, your legs nearly giving out as you threw yourself into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried into his chest, voice cracking. “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

He shushed you softly, brushing a hand through your hair as he held you close. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Twenty minutes later, the team and the police arrived. Spencer had called Hotch the second you’d calmed down enough, and by the time they got there, Christopher was still passed out. The officers dragged him into the back of their car, while JJ and Prentiss took it upon themselves to reassure the neighbors that they had someone in custody.

You knew exactly what was coming when Hotch finally made his way over to you and Spencer, but your head was pounding too much to care.

Hotch scanned the two of you with a sharp, disapproving look. “Really? You went to catch an unsub in your pajamas?”

“The whole ‘catching the unsub’ thing wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” you muttered, wincing slightly as the headache flared.

Hotch exhaled sharply, then turned to Spencer, his gaze a little more pointed. “I could’ve expected this from her, but I expected better from you, Reid.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, knowing there was no defense. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hotch gave a sigh in response, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m too tired to deal with the two of you right now. I expect to see both of you in my office in the morning.”

“Actually, I checked all the rooms in the cabin, and there’s no office. Which is surprising, considering—”

“Spence,” you interrupted him with a nudge of your elbow.

He shot you a tight-lipped look, turning back to Hotch. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————

The second you closed the car door behind you and buckled your seatbelt, you passed out. You’d always slept best during car rides, and especially now, with your mind much quieter now that Christopher Eriksen wasn’t your problem anymore.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you were still sound asleep. Derek told Spencer to wake you, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he carefully made his way to your side of the car, unbuckling your seatbelt. He lifted you into his arms, trying not to huff too loudly as he carried you through the thick snow. He made his way up the stairs quickly, hoping Penelope wouldn’t notice the wet tracks from his boots inside the house—he couldn’t take them off while holding you.

He was glad you were in your pajamas as he gently laid you on the bed. He walked over to the closet, grabbing some extra blankets and draping them over you, hoping it would help you regain some warmth.

Then, he crawled into bed beside you. Closer than he would’ve dared if you were awake, not quite touching, but close enough to share body heat. His gaze lingered on you, watching how peaceful you looked. The night had been a lot to handle, but he knew he’d do it all again if it meant keeping you safe.

The bright light reflected off the snow outside, filtering into the room. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes, the movement only making your headache worse. You huffed and carefully opened your eyes, being met with the sight of Spencer. His hair was a curly mess, and a small, warm smile painted his face.

“Hey, how’s your head?” he asked softly.

The events of last night rushed back to you, and you groaned again. “So, all of that really happened?”

“It did,” Spencer confirmed.

“I really hoped I just got drunk on too much Glühwein,” you sighed, wincing at the thought.

“You can still do that tonight,” he teased.

“No,” you muttered in disgust. “I need to recover from this first.”

You glanced over at him again, seeing the concern still shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation last night,” you said quietly. “Everything about it was just... stupid.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going, who knows who else he could’ve hurt,” Spencer pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.” You thought about it for a second, the weight lifting slightly. “Still, I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

“I’m glad I went with you,” Spencer said, his voice softening. “If I hadn’t... I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened to you. I would never forgive myself if I wouldn’t have been there in time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, turning your gaze to the ceiling. “That’s why it’s probably best we stay friends,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. Despite Emily’s pep talk, this was proof that it wouldn’t be wise to start something serious with Spencer.

“Friends instead of what?” Spencer asked, his voice higher, as if eager to hear the answer.

“Instead of us dating,” you said, almost offhandedly, not realizing you were speaking aloud about something you’d never discussed before, even though the topic would come up eventually.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide, hope flickering in them as he looked at you. “You would date me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze too, catching up with the fact that you had said that out loud. Your cheeks warmed, and you immediately turned your gaze to the ceiling, not daring to look at his expression.

“Uh—hypothetically,” you stammered, scrambling to cover your tracks.

“You would hypothetically date me?”

You swallowed, still too flustered to look at him. “Yes. If... you would, I mean. If you wanted that, too...?”

Spencer was silent for a beat, his gaze never leaving you. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” you answered, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head.

He slowly moved closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You flinched back instinctively, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his expression apologetic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your heart beating faster.

“You said you’d want to date me,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

“Yes, but—” you stopped yourself as the realization hit that he was planning to kiss you. “Oh.”

Tentatively, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. You leaned in a little, but this time it was him who pulled back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Kissing you.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, his tongue darting over his lips. “Okay.”

You smiled softly, then closed the distance, your lips gently pressing to his.

Spencer hummed in satisfaction, both of you staying like that for a moment, neither of you wanting to pull away. You were the first to break the kiss, catching your breath. If it were up to Spencer, he’d keep his lips on yours forever.

Your eyes fluttered open, faces still inches apart. Spencer cupped your face and pulled you back in, placing several soft pecks on your lips before he leaned on his arm, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to mirror his movements, but a sharp pain shot through your skull. “Ouch,” you hissed, pulling back.

“Just lay down, let me take care of you,” Spencer assured, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. You slowly lower yourself onto your back, the soft sheets crinkling beneath you, and Spencer moves above you, the blankets still covering both of you.

His lips found yours again. He kept them slightly parted, giving you the chance to slide your tongue against his. The world outside seemed to disappear as you melted into each other, lips moving in sync.

The kisses become more heated, each one a little deeper than the last. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, the other hand resting on your side, his touch sending little sparks of warmth wherever it brushed.

You could feel the heat between you growing. “I’m so warm…” you mumbled against his lips. 

His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was rough as his fingers lightly trailed over the buttons of your pyjama shirt. “Do you want me to take this off?”

You nodded, and he slowly started undoing each button with purposeful care. His gaze flickering between your eyes and the exposed skin. He let out a moan when your shirt finally fell open, his eyes taking you in. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out in awe, before pressing his lips to yours again. 

You responded eagerly, your hands fumbling between your bodies to undo his shirt in the same way. You slid the fabric off his shoulders, letting your hands run over the muscles of his back, feeling the heat of his skin. 

He gently pressed his body weight down on you, and you shuddered at the feeling of your nipples pressing against his bare chest.

His lips delicately kissed your face, until he reached your ear. He nipped at your lobe, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Do you like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You answered in a soft moan, your body arching into him. He didn’t need to ask again; he could tell you were enjoying this as much as he was.

His lips slid lower, kissing and sucking on your neck, while his hand slid down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, and then he teasingly dipped lower.

“God, Spence,” you softly moaned as he placed a wet kiss on your lower stomach. “That feels so good.”

His hand, which has been resting on your breast, trails down until it reaches the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“More, please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips instinctively. His fingers slide around the band as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

He lowers himself onto his stomach on the mattress. With a tender touch, he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

For a moment, you’ve lost yourself in his gaze—those warm brown eyes looking up at you, his pink lips swollen from his kisses…

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond, nodding.

You moaned as his mouth made contact with your inner thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your skin. He took his time, kissing his way to the sensitive spot where you needed him most.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice shaky with need.

The anticipation was unbearable as his hot breath tickled you, but you didn’t have to wait much longer. Slowly, his tongue flicked over your pussy, and you gasped, your body trembling at the touch.

He moaned in response, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue swirling in soft, teasing motions that had your hips lifting off the bed in search of more. 

“So fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, before repeating the motion, licking you again and again, while he grinded himself against the matress.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, your body quivering as he continued. He alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his finger moving up and down your pussy until it entered you gently, then slowly adding another, the stretch an overwhelming pleasure. 

You gasped his name, your body writhing beneath him as the pressure built with every move. “Spencer… please, don’t stop…” you begged, voice thick with need.

His fingers curled inside you, pressing just the right spot as his tongue continued swirling around you. Your legs started trembling as you reached the edge.

“I’m—“ you gasped, but the words dissolved into a string of moans as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your legs were shaking as you came undone, clenching around his fingers, your hips bucking against his mouth. 

Spencer didn’t stop, though. He kept going at a gentle pace, letting you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Then, he slowly pulled away, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of wonder. 

“Was that good?” he asked softly, licking his lips. 

You laughed breathlessly as you nodded, your chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Come here,” you whispered seductively, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips, which only added to your arousal.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with desire, his forehead pressed to yours. “I need you. I need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, moving your hand down his body, feeling the hardness of him against your palm. He helped you pull his pants down, and you stroked him gently, feeling him twitch in your hand before guiding him toward your entrance. He let out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his thrusts grew deeper, more urgent.

You could feel every inch of him, every movement as his cock repeatedly hit those places inside that made your head spin. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his ragged breaths.

“You’re so warm,” Spencer whimpered. “So perfect for me.” 

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as you urged him on, your body moving with his. His pace quickened, and you couldn’t hold back the desperate cries that escaped you. 

“Spencer… I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Me too,” he moaned, his hips slamming into yours. “Let me come with you. Please, let me come with you.”

You nodded, your body trembling. “Now, Spencer…” you begged in a breathless plea.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he gave one last deep thrust, and then, with a loud, guttural moan, he came inside you. You followed a moment later, your body clenching around him as you fell apart. 

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths, the sound of two bodies, tangled in a quiet, shared moment of bliss. Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“That was… perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

You smiled softly as you placed your head on his chest, fingers lazily tracing his stomach. “Yeah,” you said in a breath, your heart full of him. “It really was.”

You let out a soft groan as Spencer stood up, and you instinctively reached for his hand, pulling him back toward you. “Don’t go yet,” you pouted.

Spencer smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his waist before walking to the corner of the room. He rummaged through his bag, his back turned to you for a moment as you blatantly checked him out.

“I miss you,” you murmured, leaning back into the pillows.

He chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not even five feet away from you.”

You shrugged, your voice a little teasing. “Still feels like you're miles away.”

With a smile, he walked back toward you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hands behind his back. “Which hand?” he playfully asked.

“Left,” you replied without hesitation.

He swiftly shifted the small box he’d been holding from his right hand to his left, then grinned, revealing the gift. “Here you go.”

You blinked in surprise. “That was your present?” you asked, your voice filled with wonder as you recognized the familiar wrapping Garcia had handed you the day before.

Spencer nodded, watching you closely. “Yeah. Open it.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the gift, your heart racing with excitement. Beneath the paper was a velvet black jewelry box. You glanced up at Spencer, your eyes searching his for reassurance. He gave a soft nod, his smile encouraging.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you opened the box—and there, nestled inside, was the most stunning heart-shaped locket you’d ever seen.

“Oh my God, Spencer,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

A shy smile tugged at Spencer’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “It used to be my mom’s,” he said. “She doesn’t wear jewelry much anymore, but she wanted me to keep it... to give it to someone special one day.”

Your heart melted at the thought, and you looked at him with newfound tenderness, the weight of his gesture sinking in. 

“She was happy when I told her I wanted to give it to you,” he added, his eyes soft with sincerity.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Your mom knows about me?”

Spencer nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I tell her pretty much everything. She likes hearing about you most.”

“Why?” You curiously asked.

Spencer's smile deepened, and he looked down at his lap for a moment, as though gathering courage. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were soft, full of love.

“Because you make me happy.”

After your intimate moment with Spencer, the inevitable conversation with Hotch had to happen. Just before the talk, Hotch received a call from the lab confirming the DNA found on the Reynolds matched Christopher Eriksen’s—meaning the bittersweet news of Christopher going to prison.

“I still don’t get how the two smartest people on the team act like half a brain when they’re together,” Hotch had said with a half-smile, glancing at you and Spencer. “But… you did good work.”

—————

Later that morning, Emily spotted you, her eyes immediately drawn to the locket around your neck. “Fancy,” she commented, her smirk growing as she cocked an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you absently played with the necklace, a soft smile on your lips. “It’s Spencer’s. He gave it to me.”

Emily’s smirk turned into a knowing smile, and you could see the proud glint in her eyes. “You two are something else.”

—————

Throughout the day you and Spencer did your own thing, trying to act casual in front of the team—yet every time his hand brushed your back or he leaned in for a quick kiss in the empty hallway, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as he played chess with Rossi, your eyes catching his in those fleeting moments.

You felt Spencer’s presence behind you like a familiar warmth as you stood in the kitchen. He slipped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a romantic?” you mused, running your fingers through his hair, the feeling of him against you enough to make your heart race.

His lips hummed against your skin. “It’s your fault,” he stated, his voice thick with affection. “You drive me crazy.”

You tugged him up the stairs to your shared room, pushing him playfully onto the bed. You stood between his legs as you began to slowly peel away your clothes, revealing the red laced lingerie set Derek had gifted you during Secret Santa.

“Never thought I’d be thanking Derek for gifting you this,” Spencer mused, his hands sliding up and down your legs, a smirk displayed on his lips.

You smiled, tracing his jaw with your thumb, the heat between you growing. “What do you think of checking out the hot tub?” you purred.

He swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking down to his lap. You rolled your eyes as you responded in a sigh, “You can choose the temperature.”

Before you could say another word, he scooped you up, lifting you over his shoulder with a playful slap to your ass. You yelped, giggling as he carried you off toward the bathroom.

—————

The cabin was large, but unfortunately not big enough to avoid Garcia, so you knew what was coming when you heard the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hallway floor. She was heading straight toward you, her finger pointing accusingly at you.

“I slept with Spencer.” you hurriedly spilled out before she could say something.

She stopped in her tracks. Her face went through a thousand different expressions in the blink of an eye—confusion, disbelief, excitement—before she finally let out a high-pitched squeal. “You... you slept with Spencer?”

“Twice,” you giddily answered, the smile creeping across your face before you could stop it.

Garcia’s expression finally broke into a huge grin, and without missing a beat, she grabbed your hands and started bouncing on the spot. “Derek is gonna lose his mind!”

You barely had time to protest before she was already up the stairs.

As the end of the day drew near, the group gathered around the fire pit in the backyard, cocoa mugs in hand, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. 

“Are you sure your phone is on silent?” Garcia asked Hotch, eyeing him with suspicion.

“I’m sure, Garcia,” Hotch replied with a small smile.

She was satisfied, her focus shifting to Rossi. “The honor is yours. You may present the last Secret Santa gift.”

Rossi cleared his throat, glancing around awkwardly. “Now, this might sound like a cheap excuse for forgetting to buy a present…” Laughter rippled through the group, and Garcia shot him an offended look. “But... I think I can speak for all of us when I say the best gift is us being together in this beautiful location.”

He turned to Hotch, his voice genuine. “Aaron, you’ve built a good team here. A good family. You should be proud.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his eyes briefly glancing over the group, the weight of the moment settling on him. “I am. Thank you, David.”

And for the first time, you didn’t question whether you deserved a place in this loving, dysfunctional family—you knew you belonged.

[emilyprentissluvr]

See You Soon (Dont Blame Me: Chapter 4)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 2.2k

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

EMILY DROPPED her bags on the floor as soon as she entered her apartment. She shed her shoes and jacket as she made a beeline to her wine cabinet, not even getting a glass before downing almost a third of the bottle. She looked at the clock in her kitchen that read 1 AM and immediately went to flop onto her couch.

Hotch had sent them home after looking at the car crash scene. Emily had wanted to stay and do as much as she could to find Y/n. But she knew there was no point. There was no way they would find Y/n before she wanted to be found. 

Luckily Derek was okay, the drugs seemed to be passing through his system. The paramedic said he should be fine by the morning, easing Emily's guilt. The rational side of her brain knew that this wasn't her fault, but she still couldn't help but feel like it was. Y/n only wanted Emily which meant that everyone else was just collateral damage. 

'If only I hadn't gone to the coffee shop' Emily kept thinking as she took another sip of the wine. The BAU was supposed to be a fresh start. A place where the was a distance between her and the unsub. Where all she had to was help create a profile and then make an arrest. 

But now? Now it was personal. 

Emily had been fully content on drinking herself to sleep until she heard a knock on the door. The brunette furrowed her brows as she slowly stood up and put the wine bottle down, reaching for her gun in a hidden compartment under her coffee table. She quietly approached the door and looked through the peephole to see an anxious JJ on the other side fiddling with an overnight bag. Emily let out a sigh of both relief and annoyance as she opened the door, putting her gun on the table by the entrance, "JJ? What are you doing here?"

"Can I um- stay here for the night?" The blonde asked, looking down at the floor. All of Emily's annoyance washed away as she immediately pulled her friend into the apartment. "Yeah of course. You know you're always welcome here." The brunette said as she grabbed JJ's bag and led her to the couch. 

"Thanks," JJ mumbled as she sat in the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up so her chin could rest on her knees. Emily was at a loss for what to do. The blonde had been completely fine when they had left the crime scene so this couldn't be about work. 

"You want a drink?" Emily offered as she sat next to the blonde and held up the half-empty wine glass. 

"No thanks," JJ said as she looked at Emily for the first time. Emily could see that her eyes were slightly red and puffy, she had been crying. She immediately went to comfort her friend and ran a soothing hand along the blonde's back, "What's wrong?"

"It's um- It's Will," JJ said nervously as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Emily's face immediately hardened. She had always hated the guy. Hated the way he treated JJ.

"He moved in last week." JJ continued and Emily tried to hide the look of shock on her face, "I didn't know you guys were getting serious." The brunette said. The last time they talked about Will, JJ had said they were nothing more than hookup-buddies. 

"Well, we weren't planning on it," JJ mumbled as she wrung her fingers together. 

"What changed your mind?" Emily asked and her soft tone broke the dam of emotions that JJ had been holding in.

"I'm pregnant!" JJ immediately burst into tears and Emily's eyes widened in shock as she pulled the younger woman into her arms. "Happy tears or sad tears?" Emily asked pushing away her surprise and putting her full focus on JJ. She didn't want to approach this the wrong way.

"I don't know," JJ sniffled against Emily's shoulder, "Ive- I've always wanted to be a mom but it wasn't supposed to happen like this! I was supposed to be married and in love and...and..." The blonde trailed off as tears fell on her face and onto the brunette's shirt. 

"It's okay, let it out," Emily murmured as she comforted her friend. It was another couple of minutes before JJ's tears stopped and she pulled away from the brunette's embrace. 

"I don't know what to do." JJ said as her blue eyes locked onto Emily's brown ones, "Well you have a lot of options and time-" Emily started before she was cut off by the blonde, "No no, I want to keep the baby. I just don't know what to do about Will." JJ said nervously. "Everything's moving so fast and even though I've known him for two years, it's not like we did a lot of talking," JJ said.

"Not like you'd understand him anyway," Emily murmured under breath and thankfully JJ didn't hear her. "Have you talked to him about this?" The brunette asked, speaking louder so that JJ could hear her this time.

"Yeah, but he said that this is just what people do. I mean he dropped everything to move here to help me with the baby." JJ said and Emily shook her head. "That doesn't mean you owe him anything."

"Don't I at least owe it to the baby to try?"

"I um, I don't know," Emily said, feeling way out of her depth. She wished that Penelope was here to give JJ advice. The bubbly blonde always seemed to know what to say.

"But you need to do what's best for you. And if Will cares about you and the baby he needs to respect whatever you decide to do." Emily murmured.

"I know. It's just hard," JJ said as she wiped away a tear from her lashline.

Emily rubbed her shoulder, giving her a couple of minutes of silence to process her thoughts. "You're going to be a great mom." She said after JJ seemed to come back to herself. 

"You think so?"

"I know so." Emily smiled before grabbing the TV remote and turning on a movie for the both of them to watch. She knew there was too much on her mind to be able to fall asleep and she assumed it was the same for the younger agent. 

They were about halfway through the movie when JJ noticed that Emily had been zoning out. She'd been worried about the brunette ever since they left the crime scene. 

"Em," JJ said as she pulled Emily's attention away from a spot on the wall, "Are you okay?" JJ asked, never having seen Emily so on edge before. They had been best friends for almost three years but JJ still hadn't been able to crack the walls that Emily put up. JJ didn't mind though, she knew Emily was just a naturally guarded person.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Emily shrugged. 

"Well, it can't be easy getting so close to an unsub like that," JJ said and Emily couldn't help but just stare. She had completely forgotten that no one on the team knew about her past. They didn't know what she had to do to accomplish a mission. It wasn't that she was ashamed of it per se, she knew she helped to down a lot of bad people. But just because she wasn't ashamed of it didn't mean she felt good about it either. 

"I'll get over it," Emily said, giving JJ a reassuring smile that said she was both done with the conversation and that the blonde didn't need to worry. 

"Well even if you're over it, it doesn't seem like Y/n is," JJ frowned. 

"She's not the first woman to be obsessed with me," Emily said jokingly,  trying to get the blonde off her case.

"You know that's not what I meant," JJ said rolling her eyes, not amused with Emily's humor as a way to lessen the situation.

"I know I just- I don't want to think about it for too long," Emily murmured, hoping that was a good enough answer and thankfully it was since JJ didn't say anything else for the rest of the movie.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

"Any last words?" Y/n asked as she pointed her gun directly at the back of Jonah Herring's head. Her knee dug into his upper back as his face was forced into the ground of his living room floor. 

"Go fuck yourself." He groaned and Y/n just chuckled, "You men are so unoriginal. I can't even tell how many times I've heard that."

"You bitch!" Jonah growled as he tried to free himself from Y/n's hold. But the drugs that Y/n had slipped into his beer were preventing him from overpowering her.

"Again, unoriginal!" Y/n tutted as her gun traced Jonah's jawline. "I'll give you one more chance. How about that?"

"I will fucking kill you!" He spat and Y/n just rolled her eyes. "You know, most of the time you don't want to antagonize the person with the gun," She said as she brought it back to his head.

"And usually I'd take my time and have some fun. But I'm on a bit of a time crunch, unfortunately," Y/n said with fake pity.

Jonah's eyes went wide as he heard the click of the gun, "Wait-"

"Too late!" Y/n smiled as she pulled the trigger and Jonah's lifeless body fell to the ground.  Y/n immediately tucked her gun into her back pocket and rolled Jonah onto his back.

"Now this may hurt a little." Y/n joked as she pulled the branding pen out of her pocket. She'd done this so many times she could probably do it with her eyes closed. Finishing the angel wing only took two minutes before she stood up and Jonah back onto his stomach.

She pulled her phone out and saw that it was almost 3 am. Y/n smiled as she pocketed her phone, the adrenaline of outsmarting the BAU less than a couple of hours ago was still running through her body. They had underestimated her just like everyone else had.

And now they were going to pay for it. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Emily's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned as she sat up, her back not thanking her for sleeping on the couch. She checked the time and saw that it was only 7 am causing her to groan.

"Prentiss," She grumbled into the phone. 

"We found another body," Hotch said with the sound of cars in the background as he drove through morning traffic.

"What?" Emily asked, her body now fully awake as she shook JJ, who was fast asleep next to her.  

"The police got reports of a gunshot from an apartment building around 3 am. When they found the body they were able to identify the angel wing."

"A gunshot? Why would she use a gun that makes noise? She always uses a silencer," Emily scoffed and bolted upstairs to get her and a now very grumpy and sleepy JJ a new set of clothes.

"It's a taunt. She wants us to know that she's been close this entire time." Hotch answered easily.

"Of course it is," Emily mumbled as rummaged through her drawers, "Any updates on Derek?"

"Doctors said he's going to be fine and should be discharged within the next couple of hours," Hotch said. He had been with Derek in the hospital when he got the call from the DC PD. 

"That's good," Emily muttered more to herself, "JJ and I will meet you there."

"Okay," Hotch confirmed before hanging up.

It was another 45 minutes before the woman arrived at Jonah's apartment. The crime scene looked the same as all the others, organized with nothing out of place other than a dead body. 

Hotch, Spencer, and Rossi were all standing by the body when Emily and JJ walked next to them. 

"The victim is Jonah Herring, 26. Time of death was approximately 3 am and COD was a gunshot wound to the back of the head," The ME said as she wrote on her clipboard. 

"She must have come here right after escaping custody," Rossi noted.

"Why didn't she leave DC? She had the resources and time to do it," Spencer added.

"It's about the hunt," Emily said as she walked around the apartment.

"The hunt?" JJ asked.

"When we were in the bathroom, she said she missed the hunt and how exhilarating it feels," Emily continued as her eyes focused on a bouquet of Chrysanthemums in a vase on the kitchen counter. The flowers stood out in the very masculine and plain apartment. 

 "She wants us to play into her game," Hotch frowned.

"Seems like it," Emily muttered as she brushed a finger on a flower petal. She felt a sense of unease as she looked at the flowers, the team's voices fading out in her mind. A corner of white peeked out from the base and Emily immediately lifted it to find a small note card. 

"Hey guys!" Emily called out, interrupting whatever Rossi and Spencer were talking about. "She left us a card." The team gathered around Emily as she handed the note to Hotch.

The Unit Chief opened the small piece of paper and the side of his jaw ticked, "Actually, she left you a card." He said as he handed the note back to Emily.

She frowned as she opened the letter and read the simple four words on it.

𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘌𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

"Godammit," Emily sighed as she gave the note to the rest of the team to read. 

"Well its not just the hunt that exhilarates her." Spencer said as he gave the card back to Emily, "It's the fact that you are hunting her."

[little-diable]

A complicated man – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 5/?)

Chapter five, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, some heated making out, Aaron is a big asshole in this, mentions some typical CM violence

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

“Yes, Emily, I am on my way. I promised you I’ll show up, didn’t I?” A tired sigh left (y/n) as she watched the houses and streets blurr by, being driven to the BAU. Her heart was aching, mind racing, still hooked onto her last conversation with Aar- Professor Hotchner.

She wasn’t proud to admit that she had cried through most parts of that night, cursing herself, but mostly cursing the older man. Deep down she had expected the situation to go south, very well aware of his stoic self and the lines both had crossed.

And yet a small, pathetic part of herself had believed that everything would work out, that he’d want her as much as she wanted him. Fuck, how foolish she had been, how naive she had been, all because of a man who was almost twice her age. A man who should be more mature than how the professor was acting at the moment. 

Emily had called her a few days later, quietly begging (y/n) to find her way to the BAU, since JJ was sick and they were desperate for any help they could get. It hadn’t taken much convincing, even though (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder how crossing paths with him would play out. 

The brown haired agent was waiting for (y/n) to arrive, smiling at the young woman with a visitor’s badge already in her hand. Both shared a bit of small talk as they made their way upstairs, momentarily managing to distract (y/n) from her nervousness. But the second they stepped into the office, (y/n)’s blood ran cold, eyes instantly drawn to Aaron Hotchner’s dark ones.

An expression of confusion, annoyance, and anger crossed his features, instantly forcing the young woman to slow down the speed of her steps. Of course Emily hadn’t told the others about her plan, a fact (y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised about, and yet her insides didn’t stop churning. 

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you.” Penelope was the first to break the few awkward seconds of silence, pulling the young woman into her grasp as Derek and Spencer also stepped closer. She tried to stop her eyes from searching his as her professor growled a loud “Prentiss, a word please”, but the second he had turned away, her eyes had snapped towards his frame once again.

“We missed you, sweetheart, you’re just the woman we need on this case.” Derek’s sweet words managed to make a smile tug on (y/n)’s lips, a smile that grew even bigger as Spencer quickly hugged her, and as Rossi squeezed her shoulder. But there was no time left to exchange any further pleasantries, falling quiet as the two others stepped back into the room. 

“Alright, let’s focus on our case. Reid and Morgan, I need you to go back to the crime scenes, go through the events that have happened, maybe we missed something. Rossi and I will talk to the people who worked at the slaughterhouse. Prentiss and (y/n) talk to the families again, dig deeper with Garcia's help."

……

“Why didn’t you tell him?” (Y/n)’s voice filled the car, fingers wrapped around her hot drink as Emily drove them back to the BAU. With a sigh leaving the agent she let her eyes flicker towards (y/n), taking in the sad expression the young woman couldn’t shake off.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he knows that we need you, we shouldn’t let go of this chance to have you on the team. But I knew he’d be too stubborn.” A laugh left the both in unison, momentarily taking some weight off (y/n)’s shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what went down between you two?”

“You can’t tell this to anybody, I need you to promise.” A hum left Emily, wordlessly promising that she wouldn’t spill (y/n)’s secret. “We, uhm, that night where we went to that bar and he picked me up, I stayed at his place. The next morning we did some things, but then he was called back to the BAU, and it was as if the switch had been flicked, he was such an asshole to me. Fuck, I’ve been crushing on him for so long and was so happy that something had finally happened, but now - I don’t know, Emily.”

It took the older agent a few moments to ponder over (y/n)’s words, letting the story sink in before she shared her perspective on Aaron’s behaviour. 

“He’s been hurt a lot in the past years, I can’t tell you what goes on inside his head, but I think he’s scared. He is clearly into you, we can all tell, but he’s your professor too, and probably your future boss. Aaron is very compliant to rules, I’d say he’s currently fighting some inner battle.”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do with Emily’s insight, didn’t know how to accept the truth the woman had just shared. Her heart was pounding, and yet it was weighed down by what had happened, unable to shake off the worries clouding her mind. Aaron Hotchner had her trapped, perhaps without fully realising what he was doing to her with the way he kept behaving.

……

“Let’s recap what we got so far.” Aaron's voice boomed through the room, drawing all eyes to his tall frame. With one hand he smoothed his tie, eyes focusing on the picture he was holding, avoiding (y/n)’s eyes at every cost. “We know that our unsub stabbed our victim in the slaughterhouse, but the victim tried to escape, making it about a block before our unsub stabbed him again and finally killed the man. His stomach was cut open and he was beheaded, the head was left at another man’s house. Prentiss, (y/n), anything you can tell us?”

Emily’s eyes met (y/n)’s, wordlessly encouraging the young woman to speak up, leaving her to clear her throat before she took over, “Nothing we weren’t already aware of, but to me it seems like this was about a love interest that connects our victim to our unsub.”

“We first need to rule out other options before we take that route.” It felt as if Aaron’s words cut through her skin, almost forcing bile to rise in (y/n)’s throat. His eyes were cold, now staring at her as if she was their unsub, interrogated by every single member of the team.

“But why? If I remember correctly you didn’t deny my theory the last time you presented this case in class, what changed?” The unfamiliar undertone of her voice even managed to surprise (y/n) herself, not used to hearing herself speaking this coldly, challenging the man. She was too focused on him to pay attention to the others, not feeling their curious eyes on her, wondering how this would play out. 

“If I were you I’d watch my tone, (y/n), you’re not part of this team, and if you keep on behaving like this, you’ll never be. Either accept my decisions or leave, I certainly won’t stop you from doing so, you’d all do us a favour.” A silent gasp ripped through (y/n), followed by the sound of David Rossi warningly murmuring Aaron’s name. For a second neither of them moved, till (y/n) pushed her chair back, rising to her feet with a trembling “Excuse me” leaving her. They watched her leave the room, back turned to them as she moved towards the bathroom.

(Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not wanting to give Aaron the satisfaction of crying over his hurtful words. A few deep exhales left her as she stepped into the bathroom, both hands placed down on the cold sink, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t tell what she was feeling, torn between anger, embarrassment, and heartbreak, hearing him speak to her like that had felt like daggers being pierced into her heart, tearing her last strings of hope. 

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes snapped up towards the mirror, finding Aaron’s frowning features. Without speaking another word, he stepped into the small bathroom, locking the door behind himself. She watched him approach, only turning towards him as he came to a halt in front of her. (Y/n) didn’t dare move as his warm hand slowly cupped her warm cheek, didn’t dare move as a deep sigh left the tall man, eyes burning straight through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be sorry for, if that’s how you feel I guess. I don’t understand you, and frankly speaking, I no longer want to. You’re too old for these childish games, professor.” His frown deepened, but he didn’t pull back, kept holding her as (y/n) rambled on. “You played me, but hey, I guess you got what you wanted, huh? It was easy, too easy, but you should know that breaking my heart-” 

She didn’t get to speak another word, shut up by his lips finding hers, silencing the young woman with a heated kiss. Almost instantly her hands found his dark hair, tugging on the roots to pull him even closer. (Y/n) melted against him, eyes fluttering close to relish in the feeling his touch elicited. 

With a gasp leaving her, (y/n) found herself pressed against the sink, small of her back coming in contact with the cold metal. The sounds he drew from her left the man smirking, tongue fighting hers to once again prove the power he held over her. She was his puppet, allowing him to toy with her how he pleased, pushing and pulling her around without caring about what he was doing to her – at least that’s what he wanted her to believe, not speaking on his true feelings. 

“Fuck, Aaron.” His name slipped from her lips as he kissed his way down her throat, hands finding her behind, squeezing the soft flesh. Both were panting, riled up by the still somewhat unfamiliar touches. And yet neither of them wanted to escape this very moment, finding comfort in the racing beats of their hearts, in the heavy breaths leaving one another. 

“I wish I could understand what you’re making me feel, but I can’t.” He kissed her once again, urgency dripped from his words, making her toes curl in excitement. But (y/n)’s mind was still hooked onto his words, wondering what he meant by them, ripping her out of her blissful state. Slowly she parted from him, hands placed on his chest, forcing them to give into the once again growing distance.

Aaron’s lips were just as swollen as hers, pupils dilated with lust swimming in them, but the glance she threw at him seemed to prepare him for the words that were about to roll off her tongue. With a sigh clawing through him, Aaron let go of (y/n), taking another step away from her.

“I don’t get you, I don’t get what you are trying to do, what you want me to do. You need to figure that out before you toss me around like that again. Do us both a favour and come clean with your feelings. Till then I’ll step away from this case, and the team. I can’t be around you, if you keep acting like that.” Wordlessly he watched her leave, not throwing one glance back at the heavily sighing man. 

……

The sound of her keys being tossed to the small side table placed near her door echoed through (y/n)’s dark apartment. Her heart was heavy, shoulders slouched, clearly projecting the emotional chaos she was fighting against. Deep down she had hoped that he’d stop her from leaving, coming clean with his feelings right there and then, but she knew him better than that, all too aware of the struggles he was fighting against.

She didn’t bother to light her apartment, glassy eyes unable to focus on anything as she poured herself a glass of water, drowning the sips one by one. Exhaustion clung to her, body tormented by the battle she kept fighting, hoping that she’d eventually get out of this very mess. 

A groan ripped through (y/n) as she pressed her forehead against her kitchen counter, palms pressed flat against the cold surface. Fuck, she’d do whatever she could to get rid of her longing for Aaron Hotchner, the man who had claimed her heart all these years ago. Nothing would manage to break the spell, chaining her to him as if she was the Titanic itself, sinking to the dark ocean ground without any help coming her way. 

Her exhausted body carried (y/n) to her bedroom, plopping down on the mattress the second her phone beeped, gaining her attention. (Y/n) reached for it with another yawn clawing its way through her throat, a sound that got stuck in her throat the second her eyes focused on the message that had been sent to her, from an unfamiliar number. 

It took (y/n) a few seconds to take in the picture that had been sent to her, some blurry screenshot that pictured a kissing couple. A gasp left (y/n) as her mind finally realised that it was a picture of her and Aaron, lips locked in the bathroom at the BAU. Attached to the picture was a short message, words that left the young woman shuddering. 

“You’re mine, you belong to me, (y/n). Now you’ll have to pay for betraying me with him.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hopeless: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: You and your lawyer try to fight your unlawful arrest but it's not looking good. The entire team feels your loss and tries to concentrate on the case at hand. None of them can predict the outcome.

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

Season Five Masterlist

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

x

"There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness." - Kingman Brewster, Jr.

You haven't received your cell number, so you're stuck in the interrogation room awaiting that information. You're already at the prison in Goochland but away from the rest of the inmates. Still, you can feel every bit of despair and sadness seeping through the walls. Your anxiety is in the form of tapping your finger on the desk and bouncing your leg. Your lawyer, Steve Grant is on his way to you to discuss your options and the details of the case.

The door to the interrogation room opens, and Steven walks in wearing a very nice suit and an expensive-looking briefcase.

"Y/N? My name is Steven Grant. I'm sure you know who I am by this point."

"Yeah, my father sent you to me?"

"Yes." He takes a seat across from you and opens his briefcase where the files of your case are. He removes the files and lays them out so you both can see it. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I should start by saying I didn't do this. I've never seen those men before in my life. If I'm not at work, I'm at home with my boyfriend. I'm in the FBI, why would I want to kill one person much less seven?"

"You know more than most that people in power can do pretty horrible things."

"Before we begin, I just want to say I have everything riding on this. I have a life, a boyfriend, a home to get back to."

"I understand. I will do my best to give you the best possible outcome. They gave me everything they have on your case, so we'll go over the evidence and see if we can contradict what they have. Then, we'll go over possible alibis and prepare for the kind of questions they might ask you. They're giving us a couple of hours together, so that should be more than enough time."

"Okay," you whisper.

The tapping on the desk and bouncing of your leg doesn't stop. All you can think about is Spencer and how he must be taking this. You can't imagine he's doing well. In fact, he's far from it. He walks into work with his hair a bit messy, his eyes a bit puffy, and not his usual smile on his face. He's a complete wreck. He misses you so fucking much and hates that you're locked up for something you didn't do.

All he wants to do is visit you but they're not allowing visitors. You don't have access to a phone, so he's pretty much stuck where he is. He's so fucking sad all the time. He won't feel better until you're out and back in his arms. Derek sees the young genius hunched over as he walks past, and his heart aches for him. The entire team meets in the briefing room to go over the current case, but there is tension in the air because you're not with them.

"I know you're all worried about Y/N, but until we can figure out what's going on with her, I need everyone on assigned cases," Hotch says.

"I talked to the Captain of Virginia PD, but they don't want the Feds on it. Not since he knows she's one of us," JJ sighs.

"Screw them. We should be working on her case," Derek says.

"I understand, Morgan, but the focus is on this case right now. I will do my best to coordinate with Virginia PD. I promise I am doing whatever I can to help her, even if it doesn't look like it. JJ, begin."

"We've got four dead in a home invasion in southeast D.C."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Blunt force trauma. No knife or gun present at the scene."

"Have we been invited in?"

"Yeah, the cops want us to meet them at the crime scene."

"Isn't southeast where all that vandalism's been lately?" Emily asks.

"It's the same area, yeah. Do you think they could be connected?"

"I don't know. The weapon certainly doesn't fit the typical MO of a home invasion killer."

"Well, it's worth considering. It's common for vandalism to escalate into violence, plus there's a lot of anger out there. That neighborhood's mostly black working class. Now, it's being gentrified while the people who live there are having a tough time. Were the victims wealthy?"

"Yeah, it was two couples. They were both part of the influx of new wealth in the area."

"Did police report a robbery?"

"Nothing was taken."

"What race were the victims?" Derek asks.

"One couple was white, the other black."

"Well, if this is related to vandalism, four dead is a hell of an escalation."

"So, there's the potential for a lot more bodies out there?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. We leave in five," Hotch says and packs up his things.

The crime scene is in a house that has steps leading up to the front door, so Spencer stays outside with JJ and Hotch. The lead detective on the case is waiting for the team when they arrive, and JJ shakes his hand.

"Detective Andrews? I'm Jenifer Jareau. These are agents Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid."

"Thanks for getting here so fast."

"What can you tell us?"

The detective walks to a car outside the house that has been blocked off by police tape. There is blood on the car and on the ground, signifying that an attack took place.

"It looks like one of the victims was attacked when he got out of his car. This means whoever did this probably used his keys to get inside and surprise the other victims."

"Who found the bodies?"

"The cleaning woman. She's giving her statement now."

"Dave, would you, Morgan, and Prentiss go inside? We'll cover out here," Hotch says.

"I know you're all used to this, but it's a hell of a sight in there," Andrews sighs and leads the three agents up the steps.

Spencer stays outside since he can't walk up the stairs but when the door is opened, he can see the array of bodies inside covered with white sheets. Emily and Derek are visibly upset but Rossi can tell that it's not because of what's in front of them. Derek looks around the room and clenches his hands into fists before releasing them.

"Are you two okay?"

"Y/N should be here," Derek says.

"I know."

"She would have already known what kind of unsub we'd be dealing with," Emily adds.

All three people hear a sniffle come from outside, and they see Spencer trying not to cry. Rossi is the only one who goes out there to talk to him while Derek and Emily stay inside to inspect the crime scene.

"Hey, kid, she's going to be okay."

"I should be with her," Spencer sighs.

"The most you can do for her is work the case. You know she would have wanted that."

Spencer shakes his head angrily and glares at Rossi.

"Don't talk about her like she's never coming back."

Spencer hobbles away and Rossi goes back inside the house to help Derek and Emily.

"Did the neighbors see anything?" JJ asks the detective.

"Oh, you know, the patrol cars are even doubled in this area because of the vandalism but nothing."

"The unsub would have to be extremely fast and efficient," Spencer adds.

"Look at this." Hotch kneels down next to the car and points to a red puddle on the ground and much smaller drops around it. "There's a pool of blood here and then drops as the victim moves toward the door. How big was the victim?"

"6'1", 6'2". Why?"

"If he was strong enough to move under his own power, you'd expect signs of a struggle. If not, there'd most likely be drag marks. He was carried. That's a lot of dead weight for one person to move alone."

"There's no pool of blood on the porch which means they didn't have to set him down to open the door. There's more than one unsub."

"So, victim one gets dropped here," Rossi points to where the first victim lays, "while number two comes around the corner to see what's going on, and the unsub attacks him there."

"The female victims were probably here when the first attack occurred," Emily points to a spot in the corner. "Which means somebody would have to control them pretty quickly. How many unsubs are you thinking?"

"At least one to move the body inside, another one to take out man number two, and one more to subdue the others."

"Well, vandalism breeds a pack mentality," Emily scoffs.

"If it's the same unsubs, then we're looking at a group of three, maybe four. These aren't kids. They're too efficient. There's control and precision. Juveniles are sloppy."

"He's right," Emily nods. "There is nothing tentative about these kills. There's no experimentation. These guys know what they're doing."

"I don't know," Derek sighs.

"What are you thinking?"

"I can understand vandalism escalating into violence, but that's usually gradual. This? This feels fully evolved."

The local police can handle cleaning up the crime scene, so the team heads back to the BAU to discuss the details of the case and what the next steps should be. Spencer sits down inside the office, looks at your empty chair, and grows sad. JJ pulls up the details of every crime related to the case on the big screen.

"Okay, on September 3rd, fifteen luxury cars had their windows smashed. On September 14th, a new upscale clothing boutique was vandalized. On September 24th, two different restaurants, both catering to a wealthy clientele, had their front windows smashed and their interiors torn apart. Finally, on October 1st, a newly renovated townhome was ransacked before the family could move in."

"So, they went from attacking public property to a private residence, but no victim?"

"The question is, what makes them move from that to this?"

"The vandalism targets were all symbols of the neighborhood's changing makeup and economy. Maybe there's something specific about these victims that set the unsubs off."

"I've spoken to the victims' family members. They've agreed to come in and help however they can," JJ says.

"Garcia, check social networking sites and see if these unsubs have coordinated these attacks online."

"If they dare tweet, I shall flush them out like a bird dog, sir," Penelope declares and leaves the briefing room.

"We need to be asking how these unsubs manage to not stand out in this neighborhood. Each of these crime scene locations is a representation of new wealth and status, but the area surrounding the crime scenes is still populated by long-time residents who are slowly being pushed out."

"That's a lot of disenfranchised people who are all part of the neighborhood makeup. Most likely these unsubs don't stand out because they're probably local themselves."

"I don't know. I'm with Rossi," Emily says to Derek. "I mean, the anger I get, but this much violence? We're looking at at least three men with an incredible amount of rage. Where do you hide that?"

Hotch's phone rings and he sees it's Cheif Strauss calling. He excuses himself and steps into a nearby empty office to take the call.

"Good afternoon, Chief Strauss."

"Good afternoon. I bet you can guess why I'm calling."

"We're working hard on the assigned case. I'm confident my team can handle this."

"I'm not calling about that. I'm calling about Y/N and her arrest." Hotch's heart drops but he keeps his cool. "I'm surprised you didn't call me about this."

"I'm handling it, ma'am."

"Local police have been in contact with me about you. They do not want our help on this. I know it's difficult, but you cannot be working on her case. None of your team can."

"I understand," Hotch sighs.

"I mean it, Aaron. Stay out of this one and let the local police handle it. Your involvement wouldn't be the best idea considering she is under your supervision. I'd hate to have to replace a good team for something like this."

"Yes, ma'am."

Strauss hangs up and Hotch sighs in frustration. It's going to be a lot harder to get information on your case if the local PD is going to his boss about his involvement. He pockets his phone and walks to Penelope's office to see where she's at. He knocks once and enters only to see the details of your case on her computer screen. She has the different victims on display to see the connection, and Hotch shakes his head.

"Garcia, I need you to focus on the case at hand."

"Sorry, sir." She exits out of every tab pertaining to your case. "I have the information you were looking for. My list has seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"Okay. Listen, Strauss cut us off from working on Y/N's case. If she finds out you're looking into it, you can be fired. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Hotch leaves her office and rejoins Derek in the briefing room. "I had Garcia run records on anyone in the target area who in the last year was foreclosed upon, filed for bankruptcy, or applied for unemployment, and then narrowed that list down to men between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five."

"And?"

"Seven hundred and thirteen hits."

"The victims' families are here," JJ announces.

There are so many people inside the BAU that keep the entire team busy. Spencer has his part to do but he can't help but feel a bit distracted. His mind often drifts to you and what you might be doing right now.

x

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

[mildkleptomaniac]

question...? —  jj maybank x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ question...? by taylor swift with jj ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 700

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: just angst. cheating. pain. 

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: ....requestor,,,,,, you ok??? i’m going to make it tie in with maroon

Y/N remembered the first time she met JJ. She moved in down the street from the Chateau and went to the Wreck to get a bite to eat. Her eyes landed on the blonde, as they were already on her from the bar. A new town, a new person never hurts to talk to. JJ deemed her as the good girl, a girl who never fully lived. Y/N deemed him as a sad boy. 

Everything changed when they first met.

Soon after spending Maroon nights together, he began making all the wrong choices. JJ swore they had something special, and he couldn’t remember who he was before Y/N. Maybe he lost himself for the worse, but also with some other girl. 

Y/N wouldn’t believe him anymore–any sentimental statements would be considered garbage and just another way to break her heart. She believed he painted all her nights with a color that she’ll be searching for since. 

Before even discovering the affair JJ had with some other girl, it was one thing after another. The two lost in situations and circumstances–miscommunications and misunderstandings were the norm. The Pogues weren’t sure what exactly happened or when the shift occurred. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t. 

Y/N spent countless nights wondering what she did wrong. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Y/N spoke up, watching JJ lean against the wooden frame of the door. Weeks after trying to collect her marbles, she collected the guts to confront JJ–whether he liked it or not. “What did I do wrong? I just–I just want some explanations.”

She remembered the first, minute argument. The two kissed in front of the Pogues–then the banter and teasing all fell on Y/N. New to the Pogues, she wondered why JJ didn’t do anything. Moments later, they were surfing and cheering her on. The affection of the Pogues with her and JJ’s relationship confused her–especially with Kiera. 

But she never was the issue. 

“Did you leave her house in the middle of the night?” 

JJ furrowed his brow. He didn’t want to talk about this. But the sight of Y/N with strained eyes and stained cheeks, it only made him want to collapse on his knees. The truth hurts. 

The truth would kill her. 

“Do you wish you could still touch her?”

“Jesus, Y/N–”

“It’s just a question.” 

A question JJ never wanted to answer. A mistake he had made and instantly regretted. But Y/N knew the nights they spent together, the other girl was on his mind. He seemed distant, he seemed too lost in his thoughts. His hands were covered in filth from his crime and he didn’t even touch Y/N. 

Half-moon eyes, JJ knew she would be in for bad surprises by answering the truth. He knew he was out of time and eventually the truth would nip him in the ass. Maybe he had too much to drink, maybe he got caught up in something–he isn’t sure–and he didn’t know. Swept away, he got caught in the grey area. 

“I just want to have a conversation, JJ. It’s a question.”

Y/N felt nothing but second-best, thinking whoever that girl was–she was high on the throne. He never wanted Y/N, he only wanted to fill the void. That’s what Y/N convinced herself. Her eyes perked up at the sound of footsteps creaking in the back of the Chateau. She was hoping to see one of the Pogues, but instead, it was a stranger. 

The girl she had never seen before, but yet the root to all her sadness. 

“You’re still with her?” Y/N’s voice cracked. 

“Y/N, look–”

“That’s nice. I’m sure…I’m sure she’s suitable and right for you.” 

“I think you should go.”

“It was just a question.”

[sebstanismyspiritanimal]

Third chapter! I didn't think so many people would like this concept! I thought it was a really niche au that only I wanted to read but y'all are changing my mind! I will probably start posting to ao3 once I hit 5 chapters, because I'm anticipating a fairly long story. Would you guys want me to keep posting the whole chapter here too or just a link for the new chapters for ao3? Let me know! As always if you missed part 2 here is a link for it!

The next couple of days saw Eddie relaxing into a routine at the bureau. There hadn't been a new case yet so Emily and JJ had taken to showing her the different paperwork forms and walking her thru how to do them, for when she had some of her own to complete.

Spencer had also been sharing the stack of cold cases files he worked on periodically and letting her get familiar with the process of trying to help solve them.

Watching Garcia hustle past the desks in the bullpen without so much as perky smile, Eddie and everyone else knew they had a case.

She followed the lead of everyone else and made her way up to the conference room, nervous and excited to participate in her first case.

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

"Lucy Barlow age 34 was found yesterday along a hiking trail after being reported missing for 5 days by her sister-in-law. There's no evidence of sexual assault, but the ME did find evidence of restraints on the hands and feet." Everyone was listening intently to Garcia's debriefing as they looked at the crime scene photos behind her head, no one saying anything, but looking for any clues or evidence as to what they were dealing with.

"It's a heroin overdose." Eddie said abruptly, standing up to look closer at the photos displayed, not realizing that all eyes were on her.

"How do you know?" Hotch asked, leaning forward to watch the new agent take her first shot at profiling.

Eddie turned to look at him and faltered slightly seeing the whole team watching her.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to the pictures, "She has miosis or heroin eyes, her pupils are constricted instead of dilated. Her fingernails are blue which is a sign of heroin use, and shes got vomit on the side of her mouth. Most overdoses include vomiting, but her muscles are also slack when they should have already been stiffening up."

Eddie went to sit back down and Garcia continued her debrief with a proud look in her direction.

"She's right, cause of death was ruled overdose by heroin."

"If it's an overdose, then why are we being called in? It sounds like she went on a bender for 5 days and OD'd." Derek said bluntly, everyone else nodding or humming in agreement.

"Because another woman was reported missing this morning, 35 year old Andrea Lakes." Penelope clicked to another photo and the team understood the connection, they looked eerily similar.

"Wheels up in 30." Hotch stood and walked out the door, the rest of the team standing and collecting belongings to start to head to the jet.

"How did you know that those were signs of a heroin overdose?" Eddie could hear the honest curiosity in Spencer's voice, the rest of the team perking their ears up at the new info, the newest agent had been pretty tight lipped about her life, even the parts that weren't redacted or classified.

"My mom overdosed on it when I was 5, we were alone in the house so I got a pretty good look at what it does to the body. Plus I spent a lot of time in trap houses after my dad had sole custody." Eddie said, nonchalantly packing the iPad and files into a carry on bag for the plane ride. She looked up when no answer came from the genius and saw everyone watching her with sad eyes, not even pretending they weren't eavesdropping.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't know." Spencer mumbled, looking very upset at himself for unlocking a part of Eddie's Tragic Backstory.

Laughing slightly she squeezed his shoulder, "There's no reason for you to have known, Spence. I'm fine you guys, this was a long time ago. Besides the trap houses were my favorite places to stay, they always had the best snacks for the kids." With a grin at the teams slightly horrified looks, she shouldered her bag and went to find the jet.

The plane ride was uneventful, they spent the first 30 minutes to Nebraska going over the case and the rest of the time relaxing. Eddie had started reading a book when Emily tapped it suddenly.

"You read Tolkien?" She questioned in a loud voice making Spencer perk up and the rest of the team to groan exasperated.

Eddie slipped in a book mark, guessing that his was going to be a long conversation.

"Yeah? It's been a while since I read the Hobbit and I figured its a good plane book."

Derek groaned around a grin that was forming, "Don't tell me you're a secret nerd Eddie! Spencer and Penelope are too powerful together, we can't have someone else joining their ranks!"

Eddie laughed and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know how much of a secret it is, Derek. I started a DnD club in highschool, nothing quite says nerd like a 20 sided die." The rest of the group groaned as Spencer shot up out of his seat and ambled up to the open one next to her, quickly starting up a conversation about LoTR, ignoring the laughter and teasing the whole plane started at the two of them.

[navree]

What do you think of Jaehaerys the old?

I'm mixed on Jaehaerys, actually. Unlike most other people in my corner of ASOIAF/HOTD fandom, I'm actually not that anti Targ ("they're colonizers" white on white crime doesn't bother me in any way whatsoever and also the Targs won that round fair and square and if you use that rhetoric I better be seeing essays on Nymeria the colonist given that the Rhoynar were much more of a traditional colonial force in Dorne to the point where they feel mildly analogous to the pilgrims and also it's all fictional and not real so who cares). So my issues with ole JJ are more about the kind of person he was than just being a Targaryen king.

I'm willing to give him props. For one, he had a hard early life, beyond becoming king quite young, the entire reason he was king at all was because both of his brothers were gruesomely killed by his bloodthirsty and psychopathic uncle, and his mother and sisters were at various points prisoners of Maegor and Visenya, and at one point he was a prisoner of Visenya himself before she died and he was able to flee with Alyssa and Alysanne. It's why I'm more lenient than most on his anger at Saera following her scandal, because while it's scummy that he's angry at her for exploring her sexuality in a way he never would have been if this was one of his sons (but also for being a bitch towards his fool that was the main instigating thing before it went off the rails), Saera responding to that with "I should get three husbands because Maegor had six wives" to someone whose older brothers were 1) eaten by Maegor's dragon and 2) tortured to death by Maegor's people on Maegor's orders because Maegor was angry at Jaehaerys (having a relative die due to your actions is always going to be an emotional mindfuck, it's why Louis Philippe makes me so sad) is monumentally stupid, I'm not surprised that he was incredibly furious that she'd be so callous about Maegor after everything Maegor put him through. I also think that Jaehaerys was a genuinely good administrator, along with being an excellent politician (say what you want about it but the Doctrine of Exceptionalism was a stroke of genius), and I have a soft spot for good politicians and rulers who are actually good at their jobs and are actually capable of and interesting in governance, not just Being The King. Jaehaerys was, in fact, able to bring stability and prosperity to the realm, he did basically instill a pax Targaryeana that likely would have lasted a really long time if his successor wasn't an idiot. And as someone who maintains that birthright monarchy is a scam, I'm fine with Jaehaerys making the decision of his succession the most democratic version of power transferal Westeros has ever seen (just wish it hadn't been so sexist).

Because yeah, my main issue with Jaehaerys is his appalling sexism. He treated nearly all of the women in his life pretty badly, while I'm willing to give him something of a pass for Saera, he's not that great with any of his other daughters, or any of his sisters, reducing them oftentimes to just their value as marriage material and broodmares (like when he said that it didn't matter that his firstborn child, a daughter, wasn't his heir because she was gonna marry his son and be queen anyway, motherfucker you know that queen consort and queen regnant are two different things). Literally forcing Daella to get married despite what appear to be some severe developmental delays and also just the fact that she did not want to be married is also just so gross, and just in general constantly having Alysanne be pregnant when she didn't particularly want to be is just Not It, dude, especially as she got older and these pregnancies visibly got harder and harder on her. And while his administration was good and his overall treatment of the realm was good, what tangible positives changes did he instill for the actual people? Things like wanting to abolish First Night and pushing for the Widow's Law were Alysanne's initiatives from her women's courts, that's why they're called Queen Alysanne's laws specifically. And personality wise, as a character, he's dull. Other than the early life stuff when he was a prince and then a young king, Jaehaerys does nothing for me. He just feels incredibly bland as a person, and while being a horrible fictional man is forgivable crime, being a boring one isn't. That's a death penalty offense. Ya basic Jaehaerys.

[penelopeminded]

my thoughts on cme 16.6, true conviction

let me just say i'm DREADING this episode actually

wow they actually gave us the whole first scene i was sure this was more spread out

THE JET I'M CRYING

it's so empty 😕

HES OKAY WHAT

no way they just drove right past the guy

where's mister mommy issues is he dead already

oh poor kid but i'm really interested in the backstory

NO INJURIES SERIOUSLY?? so boring i wanted a hospital love confession 😐

emily with a ponytail yes please

luke actually looks really good rn i love his messy hair

true he is in fact already dead

they probably should be going to the hospital are you kidding me

dude was raised to be a murderer fr

i am loving doug's character arc

GARCIA MY QUEEN

aw that's sad but at least he's finally got closure

HES SO FUNNY (it wasn't that funny but i laughed)

aw this is so nostalgic 🥺

NO BODY NO CRIME emily's a swiftie

i hate that they're on a first name basis

AW this isn't nearly the reunion i wanted at all but it's cute "even luke" and his smile 🙄

WOAH

some of you are gonna say that's hot 🧐

mommy 😩

they're cute i'm glad this didn't lead to a fight and i'm guessing in aj's episode we see this time off

one thing about jj is she will absolutely never sit in a chair normally

IS THAT A NEVER BEFORE SEEN PENEMILY PIC I LOVE IT

she's so sweet 😭

ugh i've seen this hairdo before and I'm still gonna throw up looking at it

i love boobs

UH OH GF IS MAD (partly rightfully so)

"don't say that" IM CRYING NO

NO DONT DO THIS PLEASE NO

garcia is me i LOVE gossip

jj is so cute bye

tarvez besties 🤩

let's talk about BOTH your love lives over a beer, please

i adore tara and i need tarbecca to last

HAHAHA i love everything about this except for the implications behind "go feed that cat"

aw 😕 poor penny

NO

NO

NO KSDKSHDJS

SHES SO FUNNY

over your dead body dude

tarily!

aw i feel so bad for her

and BACK to the comedy

😐😐 that's not funny. i feel nauseous. i'm crying. please take it back PLEASE

NOOO I CANT TAKE ONE LOSS AFTER ANOTHER

what the hell. what. what. r u joking. this is cruel.

yes PLEASE give me some good news

i better fucking not see luke happy about this

penelope garcia you continue to be a genius but i'm mad at you.

mkay anyways if we don't at least get jealous luke out of this IM gonna be the next sicarius

i'm done bye that went about as bad as i thought it would

[grapejuice32]

I Should Hate You

JJ x Pogue!reader (reader is with Rafe the the start) Warnings : just Rafe framing John B and blaming it on daddy issues (I hate you forever Ward)

Notes : at least it brings reader and JJ together <3

You had put everything on the line for him. Your friendship with the Pogues, your job, your reputation, your life. And how did he repay you? He helped frame John B for the death of the Sheriff, he helped frame one of your best friends for a crime he didn't commit. When you'd heard the speculation that John B was the suspect you ran to Rafe, distraught, begging him to help you prove it wasn't John B. But instead of helping you, he did something he never did, he denied you. Your breath had trembled as you sobbed, begging him and trying to change his mind, yelling at him, you hadn't understood why he refused to help prove John B, your best friend, your family, as the innocent person he was. You'd watched with your tear stained from your seat at the edge of his bed as he paced his room, one hand running though his hair and the other clenching and loosening from a fist at his side. And then Rafe told you why he wouldn't prove John B's innocence. He told you that John B's innocence meant that he would have to confess that it was him, not John B. And with that, your heart shattered.

You'd remained speechless, crying breathily till your chest hurt as Rafe held your face in his hands and tried to justify his actions, to give you a reason. He was saving his dad. Honestly, his reasoning wasn't a surprise to you, not after you'd be the one to drive to his house to console him whenever he would fight with his dad. You knew all he'd ever wanted was to receive Ward's approval, Ward's love. But this?You'd shook your head in anguish and disbelief and had mad the journey back to the chateau, almost crashing your car as the tears blocked your vision. When you finally got there, you'd gotten out of your car and looked at the rest of the Pogues, looking more lost than they'd ever seen you. You'd slowly walked to them, still struggling to consider that the man you'd loved whole heartedly and fully would do this, and then would frame one of your best friends for it.

You gaze swept over all four of them, your lips trembling when your eyes made contact with JJ's, "It was Rafe." You'd whispered, the hurt clear to them all, and he'd just nodded and whispered a small 'I know', gathering you in his arms. Bring held by him caused you to break down in his arms, out of all of your friends, you and JJ had always been the closest, you'd put that relationship on the line for Rafe and for what? When your breathing had finally begun to level out, you'd locked eye's with John B over JJ's should and all you could do with mouth the words 'I'm sorry' to which he gave you a knowing and sad smile.

The next few days had been hell for all of you as you'd help plan John B's escape, just so that he could be safe while the rest of you cleared his name. You'd watched as Rafe had done everything in his power to try and get John B caught by the police, your heart somehow breaking all over again every time you saw him. The moment of peace and accomplishment didn't last as long as you'd hoped, the relief the four of you had felt when John B and Sarah got away was quickly snatched away by the news that Shoupe. JJ and you didn't have anyone that came for you, not like Pope and Kie did, you were alone in that moment of grief and turned to each other.

Peace had always been something you'd felt when you were in Rafe's arms, because you knew he'd take care of you. But in JJ's arms? In JJ's arms you felt whole and you felt free, you could be unapologetically all of yourself. That's not to say that Rafe hadn't loved all of you, but there would always be that different, he was a Kook and you were a Pogue, it was a fact and it was something that your affections for each other wouldn't erase. With JJ you were equals, you could just be.

The weeks following the supposed loss of John B were probably some of the most you and the Pogues had experienced. Despite the tragedy of it all, it had done something that only time could do, it had changed your mind. The days you'd spent sat in the dark of your kitchen had allowed you to look back on everything, the days you'd spent sat in silence with JJ had allowed you to come to terms with it. It brought you clarity, talking things over with JJ had helped you notice the love bombing and manipulation from Rafe for what it was. The realisation had lead you to apologise ceaseless to JJ for not heeding his warnings when you'd first told him of your previous relationship with Rafe.

You'd rambled about how sorry you were and about how stupid you'd been, it lead to him finally gently cupping your cheek in his hand and pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. Being with JJ taught you a new definition of love, a warm love, a passionate all consuming love. The both of you had been consumed with guilt for acting on the feeling you held for each other in the circumstances you were in, not revealing that you were a new found item to Kie and Pope out of shame, and perhaps to selfishly keep it as your own little secret for a while. And yet it all worked out. John B and Sarah came back, you'd bumped into them in Charleston whilst clasping onto JJ's hand tightly whilst the four of you had been running for your lives.

The newly reunited Pogues had all celebrated in the hot tub, your head resting on JJ's shoulder, your hand in his, smiles of sheer joy gracing everyone's faces. You loved JJ with your whole being. You knew what you felt for Rafe had also been love, but it was different, and despite what he'd put you and your family through, you couldn't find it in you to hate him even though you should, but maybe that was okay. Being with him had brought you to JJ, perhaps you would always love Rafe to come extent, and while he may have been your first love but JJ would was your last.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[allthedamnlove]

i agree that drew and fiona had way more chemistry than madison and rudy😭😭

jj and kie were just like there…. if that makes sense?? like nothing about them gave couple. meanwhile rafe was on his knees with a ring for sofia🙂‍↕️

also the whole riara thing is like not it lmfao, like madison said kiara would not be kiara if she was with rafe so if they really make a romantic connection happen between them not only would it ruin her character but it would not make sense imo

i’m all for the partners in crime duo and going after revenge but for them to all of a sudden want each other in 1 season would throw the whole show off

rofia endgame or the writers will not know peace for the rest of their lives idk🙂‍↕️

See that's the thing it's like the end of mockingiay where katniss says that she doesn't need the fire from Gale but needs peace that peeta gives. Rafe needs love from a normal woman who's been in love with them for nearly 2 years...not a heartbroken girl looking for revenge

Oh Jiaras are 👌close to killing rudy Elaine and the pates so if they put rafe and kiara you will probably see the pates dead or something. I think what they meant by rafe and kies relationship being explored more is that they will find each other in violence and revenge. I'm so happy that kie gets to explore herself in the final season. I'm so fucking sick of rudys unprofessional ass ruining the entire show. So I want madison to get the attention full front and center. No men around her.

Also rafe might have hastily broke up with sofia but his ass is soo going to regret it. He has INSANE attachment issues and so he would want closure WHICH MEANS ANGST FOR US.

And also if anyone comes for sofia I won't hesitate to deck them cuz I'm sick and tired of everyone victim blaming sofia. Like sHe BeTrAyEd HeR BRO HE KILLED PEOPLE. And again a number one hypocrite cuz HE KNOWS that he has done bad shit yet broke up with her OVER THE PHONE. LIKE BE FUCKING RIGHT

I feel like one of the pates really really like rofia and also the confirmation by the directors further confirmation that their story is not over.

Oh I will take a pitchfork and go rafe s2 on all of their asses if they come for my ship. So they better watch their asses.

Also the body doubles for the beach scene in MOROCCO CTFU. Meanwhile drew carrying fiona across the beach for the enduro scene YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS UP. Yea so clearly we can see a difference in chemistry.

If the obxanon is true (I don't trust them) then the dire nearly dry ass chemistry in ep 6 to ep 9 must be because ep10 was filmed first after it. So naturally mads was pissed at rudy but at the same time....they both should have been professional and atleast showed some chemistry even if jjs dying. Its the fan favourite ship, both the writers and mads and rudy atleast should have taken it to a higher level in the scenes if jj was going to die. But nope, they were acting like they didn't even know each other LMAO. Its just very very sad like jj is an amazing character and I'll say that rafe and jj are kinda cut from the same cloth so I would have loved to see how their relationship evolved. But that's the thing with these fuckass 10eps we see no emotional development between the characters. The main reason why rafe and sofia seems "weird" (by the way they are wrong and don't enjoy life enuff) is that the editors cut so many scenes that it feels disconnected.

But yea again I wish and wish I see rafe crying his ass off at the wedding with sofia wearing an insane wedding gown with Valerie as the flower girl and mads as one of the bridesmaids

[spinningintheshadows]

I'm Gonna Love You Through It

Pairing: implied married JJ x Reader Words: 943 Warnings: uhh mentions of miscarriage. mentions of a car accident. sad jj which should be a crime punishable with death. also just jj being the support system i needed when I went through this a miscarriage at 19, so kind of self indulgent.

It was an unseasonably cool October morning, but yet here you were, sat in the wet sand wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and JJ’s t shirt. Your arms were wrapped around your knees and you were fighting back tears. The storm from the night before had the waves worked up, so you were surprised when a blanket wraps around your shoulders and there’s a soft thud in the sand beside as someone sits next to you.

“I thought I’d find you here. Figured I’d better come find you before you turned into an ice cube.” he said. You looked over to see JJ sitting beside you, legs crossed and definitely dressed for the weather in his hoodie and sweatpants. You didn’t say anything, turning to continue to stare at the water in front of you.

It was quiet for a while after that. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t have to because you both knew what was going through your head. Today would have been your due date with your first child. Not planned, but wanted and ripped from you by a drunk driver. Four months later, you were still blaming yourself even though you knew deep down that it wasn’t your fault. Slowly, JJ moved to clasp your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said. “I want to make sure you know that.”

“I do know that.” You whispered. “Doesn’t make today suck any less though.” He sighed, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

“We should go see her today.” he said. “I think it’ll help me. I think it’ll help you.” You hadn’t been to the cemetery since the day you guys buried your daughter's ashes, since the law said a miscarriage after twenty weeks had to be dealt with through a funeral home. You’d decided to bury her, so that you’d have a place to visit her, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to go back since the funeral. JJ had gone a couple times, like the day they had placed her headstone. He’d taken pictures of it for you, the tiny stone bordered with tiny flowers and her name Charlotte Rose Maybank with just the year on it. You’d named her after your grandmother. You had grown up in the tiny baptist church in the middle of town, and while neither of you were particularly religious, you held a firm belief that your grandma was on the other side taking care of your daughter.

“Okay.” you mumbled. “It’s time.”

“I just keep imagining what she would look like.” he said. “I bet she would have been gorgeous.” You let out a watery laugh.

“I know she would have been.” you told him. “Your eyes on any kid would be adorable. She’d probably have your ADHD too.”

“Maybe.” He said. “I want to try again, when you’re ready.” He’d been patient, a saint really. He’d made sure you’d eaten the first couple of weeks when all you wanted to do was stay in bed. He’d sat in the bathroom and washed your hair when it hadn’t been washed in over two weeks. He was always there to hold you when the emotions got to be too much and you just needed to be held. You were sure that he’d grieved too, but he never showed it to you. He’d switch off with Kie and Sarah, going over to the chateau for a couple hours and coming home smelling of coors light and weed. You knew he’d grieved during those trips where he could talk about his emotions with John B for a couple hours, because if anyone knew grief it was his best friend, even if it wasn’t the same type of grief.

In fact, the only time you’d seen him show his grief was the day of the accident. JJ had been at work, you had gone to the doctor for your 25 week appointment, but it was late in the evening, as you had other errands to run, when you got done and were driving home when you were hit head on by a man driving drunk. JJ remembers it from closing up the mechanics shop he worked at, Shoupe coming in looking for him and saying he needed to get in the car because you had been in an accident and were in bad shape. You remember it as the car being hit, then barely coming around in the hospital with him holding your hand praying for the first time you can remember because he couldn’t lose you both. As soon as he muttered the words you knew you’d lost your daughter, but were out again before he could even realize you were awake. You didn’t even have confirmation that you lost her until you really came around two days later.

“I want to try again, someday.” You said. “I’m just not ready yet.”

“I know. I’ll be here when you are, though. Until then though, I’m just gonna love you through it.” He said.

Truth be told, you didn’t feel ready when nearly two years later the test came back positive again. JJ kept his promise, he loved you through it. There were panic attacks and the fear that your body was permanently damaged from the trauma of the accident, but JJ was there to hold you, and assure you that everything was okay. He didn’t miss an appointment, talked you down from panic attacks, and you knew it was worth it when on yet another cold October morning you sat in another hospital room, holding your beautiful, healthy son in your arms.

[blushingbucky]

selfish | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: spencer never should have let you go.

warnings: allusions to sex, injury, allusions to a crime scene, spencer being a confused mess, pure angst 

author’s note: my first criminal minds fic, and it’s spencer reid !! it was loosely inspired by taylor swift’s ‘sad beautiful tragic’ and madison beer’s ‘selfish’, providing the title of this fic. I’m so excited about this fic, and hope you love it as much as I do. send your requests straight into my inbox if you want to see more :)

additional note: happy birthday to me! this fic is a lil birthday present for myself ahah

and before you get into this fic, please take some time to consider the meaning of Good Friday.

This was a case like any other.

The stakes were high—what else was new?—and the UnSub’s arrest evolved into a shootout. Before Rossi could get a clean shot, a bullet had grazed your arm and killed a police officer. Your getting injured wasn’t new (really, it’d be more surprising if you didn’t), but JJ still wrapped her arm around you, Derek and Hotch still asked if you were alright, Emily still held your hand. Penelope still smothered you in a hug. Rossi still shook your hand.

But your Spencer? He didn’t inspect your wound, didn’t berate you for your carelessness or run off another statistic on the odds of an injury in the field. He didn’t follow the usual routine of kissing your cheek and coddling you until you were healed.

Instead, he opened his mouth and blurted, “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat in the worst possible way, your brain a broken record repeating his words on a loop. “I… what?”

“You’re always getting yourself injured and I… I can’t stand to see you get hurt.” That was the naked truth of it: each time you were hurt in the field, Spencer struggled to reassure himself that you would be okay, to remember a statistic or concrete fact to ease his anxiety. He could not afford the distraction, he told himself.

Field agents needed to set aside their emotions and remain objective, lest their judgement be clouded. And Spencer’s judgement had been clouded on more than one occasion.

“You can’t be with me because you don’t want to see me get hurt?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

You wish his tone wasn’t resolved, that you could persuade him to see reason, your reason. Instead you ask, “What makes this injury different from the others? Why do you get to decide how this relationship ends?”

“I can’t keep doing this, y/n. It’s not sustainable.” Always scientific, always the pessimist. Why couldn’t he ever take a leap for love? Why couldn’t he fully give himself to you?

“Spence—”

“You’re a distraction, and I…” He takes a deep breath, forcing the words past his lips. “I don’t need that. There’s nothing more I have to say.”

He leaves you alone with the ambulance, alone with your thoughts. Alone with your tears.

—

Your skin is warm as Spencer trails his fingers down your body, gracefully pressing his lips onto your collarbone. He delights in your sighs, testing the waters of your pleasure. Your hand curls in his hair, tugs, and he brings his mouth up to meet yours.

You smile into the kiss as he settles between your knees, hand sliding up to hold your cheek. He breaks the kiss and your lips chase his, aching for another taste. But he’s firm, breath mixing with yours as he murmurs, “You’re beautiful.”

Spencer wakes to sheets twisted around his legs. Eyes still closed, he reaches a hand out for you, only to find… you’re not there. Reality crashes into him like a train, and his mind reminds him of the fact that you’re not his anymore, you sleep in a different bed now.

Reality hurts, his memory is alluring, and Spencer just wants to go back to sleep. But then his phone rings on the bedside table, and he answers the call with a groan.

—

“Reid…”

Spencer tunes out Morgan’s voice with some effort, wrapped in a memory. That eidetic memory, once serving him well in catching criminals and party tricks, now serves only as a reminder of your lips on his, your fingers framing his face, your gentle touch on his skin.

He knows that if he concentrates, he can still hear your sighs in his dream, trace the curve of your lips. He’d do anything to be there, to be back in your apartment and in your arms. Instead, the team’s flying out to New York to hunt another case, catch another criminal.

“Reid.” There’s Emily’s voice now, and the sound of a female voice that belongs to anyone but you abruptly drags him out of his reverie.

His gaze snaps into focus on the case file in JJ’s hand, and he blinks away the final remnants of the dream.

“Reid, you okay?” Derek’s voice is gentle, and Spencer knows what he must look like — messy hair, messy mind, messy thoughts of you.

“Yeah,” He blinks away the concern, but his eyes meet your gaze. Spencer looks away before he can linger, but knows you’re watching him in his peripheral vision.

He wants you to stop. He wants you to continue. He doesn’t know what he wants.

—

Another case completed, another criminal caught.

The BAU bullpen is dark, lit only by the light escaping Hotch’s office and the lamp on Spencer’s desk. It’s late, even for you, and you’re still not entirely sure why Spencer told you to “come find me later.” But he’s always led to more questions than answers, and you find him muttering over the case file as you approach his desk.

“Hey,” your voice can’t be more than a whisper, and he pulls his eyes away from the gruesome images in his hand.

“Hey,” comes his reply.

“You, uh… you wanted to see me?” Your hands fumble together, touching the finger where your promise ring once was.

“Yeah, I…” Spencer pauses, lets his mind catch up to his mouth, thinks through what he wants to articulate. He’s not entirely sure why he asked you to come, either, but he knows that he misses you and he wants to apologise. And the words that leave his mouth aren’t pretty, they don’t solve anything—all Spencer knows is that he loves you and should have never given you up, distraction or no. He’s realised that he cannot afford to lose you. “Is it selfish for me to miss you?”

You blink in surprise, staring at the lonely brunette before you. There’s something in his eyes that suggests he really does miss you, really does regret letting you go. But if he truly needed you, truly loved you, why would he let you go?

“You don’t need me, Reid,” you eventually sigh, and your words hurt him in more ways than one. “You said so yourself. I’m an unwanted distraction, remember? Of course you remember.”

What happened to Spence? What happened to you? What did he allow to happen?

“Of course I need you, I always need you,” the words leave his mouth before he can think, before he can analyse your tone and speech pattern and wrap his head around the fact that you think he doesn’t need you. As if it hasn’t always been you.

Instead, you shake your head, and back away from him. Spencer seizes the opportunity to drink you in—eyes slightly glassy, arms crossed against your chest, head turned away from him. Tears that mean you’re upset, distance that means you’re uncomfortable, all signs pointing to the glaringly obvious truth that he’s lost you for good.

“Don’t— Don’t do that, don’t profile me like one of our UnSubs.” Your voice has hardened now, and he brings his gaze from your posture to your eyes. “You clearly don’t know me at all.”

“y/n, I—”

Your name on his lips is desperate, and it takes every ounce of your will to not take the extra step into his arms. But you pause, silent, waiting for him to continue.

His silence speaks volumes. You know that if you linger, if you allow yourself to touch him, you’ll never be able to walk away. So you turn toward the exit, head stubbornly facing forward.

Risking a final glance, you allow yourself one second to drink him in. To admire the way a strand of hair curls over his forehead, framing his features. To look into the brown of his eyes, to wonder at the depths of his imagination and ingenuity. To love his gentle heart.

But the second’s up, and you leave the BAU a hollow vessel.

[spencermyangel]

one where Spence and Rossi get super close and Rossi legal adopts him, like an adult adoption. With the team finding out when Spencer calls Rossi dad.

Rossi watched with pride as Spencer happily showed him the fish he caught, rambling on about different facts of the type of fish. Over the past few years him and Spencer had gotten close, so close that sometimes Rossi forgot he wasn’t his actual son. And that made him sad because he would love to introduce Spencer as his son to people. He didn’t know how William Reid could have ever given up the amazing gift he had been given in having a son. Rossi had always longed for a son, ever since he had lost James. He looked at Spencer and truly saw him as his son, he often wondered if Spencer saw him as a father. 

Rossi continued to listen to Spencer ramble, happily flapping his hands, as they made their way back to the small cottage Rossi had rented. Even though Spencer was an adult, Rossi wanted him to have the experiences he never got to have as a child, so he had taken Spencer on a trip to enjoy nature and go fishing. Rossi had specifically chosen to rent a cottage instead of camping because as much as he knew Spencer loved nature, sometimes his sensory issues and anxiety about germs caused him to get upset and need a place to calm down and wash off. 

Later that night they were watching a movie when Spencer quietly confessed something, avoiding Rossi’s eyes, “I wish you were my dad,” he said.

Rossi froze for a second before a small smile made its way onto his face, “and I wish you were my son.”

Spencer relaxed at Rossi’s response and turned to look at him, tears pricking his eyes. Rossi put an arm around Spencer and they were silent for a few moments until Rossi once again spoke, Finally having the confidence to ask Spencer something he had been wanting to for a while. 

“Bambi… Spencer,” Rossi paused to take a deep breath, “how would you feel about me adopting you, like an adult adoption.”

Spencer’s head moved so fast to look at Rossi that it hurt his neck, “are you serious?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

Rossi nodded, “if you want to.” 

Spencer rapidly nodded, tears filling his eyes. Rossi smiled and pulled him in for a hug. 

*

It had taken a little bit, but they had gotten the paperwork done and Spencer officially changed his name to Spencer Rossi-Reid. He wanted to keep Reid because it was the surname his mother had. Spencer had even begun to call Rossi ‘dad’. 

One problem remained though. How they should tell the team, neither Spencer nor Rossi had thought of a way to tell them. In the end it ended up coming out by accident. 

It was a normal day of crime-solving, the team had hit a block in the case. They were all sitting around, trying to figure out what they had missed. Spencer sped through files when suddenly he jumped up, startling the rest of the team. 

“The witness!” he excitedly flapped his hands. 

“What?” Morgan tiredly rubbed at his eyes. 

“The witness,” Spencer repeated, “didn’t he say he found the body while he was on his way to go fishing?”

Hotch looked at him and nodded. 

“The lake, Lake Ridge Row, is so heavily polluted it would be impossible to fish there.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “and he also didn’t have any fishing supplies on him. Why would he lie about what he was doing when he found the body if he didn’t have anything to hide.”

“Because he does have something to hide,” Rossi stated, and turned to Spencer with a proud smile, “good work, Bambi.” 

Spencer blushed and ducked his head, “thanks Dad.” 

Spencer’s words caused the team to go silent, staring at the two men in confusion. 

“Dad?” Emily broke the silence with a chuckle, thinking Spencer just slipped up, she was aware of how close he and Rossi had gotten.

“This isn’t exactly how we planned on telling you guys,” Rossi began, a sheepish look on his face. 

“Telling us what?” Garcia asked, looking around at everyone confused. 

“I’m sure you are all aware of how Spencer and I have gotten a lot closer lately,” Rossi paused as the team nodded, “well, I always wanted a son and Spencer wanted a father. It just seemed, well, perfect. We had the paperwork done and I officially adopted Spencer.” he finished. 

The team all stared at them in various states of shock until being snapped out of it by a squeal.

“Oh my gosh,” Garcia excitedly smiled, “that’s the most adorable thing I ever heard.”

“I’m happy for both of you,” Hotch told them, also giving them a rare smile.

Morgan simply gave Spencer a smile and a nod. He knew of the pain Spencer’s biological father had caused him, and he was so happy that now Spencer would have a father who genuinely cared about him and not just to use him.

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[boldlyvoid]

touch me

spencer reid x reader

Summary: Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.

warnings: mentions of cases, insecurity issues, female reader, smut, blowjobs, riding, praise, emotional hurt/comfort. emotional sex, strangers to lovers, hook-ups,

word count: 5.8k

They had been in New Mexico for almost a week, solving a series of murders that seemed to have no end in sight. There was nothing they could do but go back to their hotels to sleep, hoping there’d be a connection in the morning.

Spencer and JJ were sharing a room as the small town hotel didn’t have accommodations for everyone that was visiting to help with the case. They didn’t mind, it was like a long sleep-over.

They did their own thing, kept their space and Spencer really did enjoy overhearing her on FaceTime with her kids. It was refreshing happiness in the middle of the madness murder sadness and despair they were swallowed by.

When his phone rang at 6 am, just shortly after he returned to his room for a quick rest, he sighed deeply, “Dr. Reid.”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but another body dropped and I need you to go to the ME,” Prentiss explained softly down the line. “It’s weirder than the other’s and you’re the only person who would be able to work it out with the examiner.”

“I’m on it,” he replied with a tightlipped smile. He hung up and looked over at JJ, already peacefully asleep on her bed. He closed the door softly on his way out, not wanting to disturb her any further.

At the other end of the hallway, Spencer stood and waited for the elevator. It seemed to be taking forever, everything he was doing lately dragged on and on with no end in sight. He was exhausted, still struggling with his PTSS, just all around not having the best time.

He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the elevator opened with an equally tired woman waiting inside. “Hi,” she said before covering her mouth to yawn, “sorry.”

“I get it,” he smiled as he stepped inside. “Lobby?”

“Yes please,” she smiled. “Are you here for the case too?”

“Uh, yes,” he answered softly, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, with the FBI.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the medical examiner,” her face lit right up. “Agent Prentiss said you’d be joining me I just didn’t think this quickly.”

She was adorable, bubbly and happy in a way he envied. He missed the feeling of random giddiness, smiling at her as he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. “Do you need a ride? I have an SUV from the bureau.”

“Yeah,” her smiled got bigger. “That would be really nice.”

They walked closely together through the lobby and towards the parking structure, he hit the unlock button a few times while trying to figure out which SUV his keys matched to. Finally getting in and watching her climb in the passenger seat.

“Do you know anything yet about the body?” Spencer asked as he turned on the ignition.

“Yeah hold on,” she pulled her iPad out of her bag and started sliding through emails.

“Your tech girl sent me the initial police reports, witness statements and overview,” she began to explain. “Like the others, she’s a 25-year-old female, blond, blue-eyed, athletic.”

“Prentiss said it was a weird one?” Spencer added.

“They think she was embalmed before the unsub staged her,” Y/N added with a tone of disgust on her voice. “Do you have your tech girl’s number?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Spencer dug his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

“Penelope Garcia, the 8th wonder of the world at your service,” she answered after just one ring. “How are you doing on this fine morning, my fine furry friend?”

“Not so hot,” Spencer replied. “I’m with the ME right now on the way to the body, she has a question for you.”

“Oh hello, ask away.”

Y/N was smiling on the front seat, enjoying the show they put on for her. “Um, hi I was wondering if you could look into anyone in this town buying embalming equipment, or if any has been stolen from the funeral home? This town is so under-resourced already, I don’t know where this guy could get this stuff.”

“Absolutely, I’ll add that to my parameters,” Garcia’s voice was lovely and soft. “I’ll call you back if I find anything!”

“She’s lovely,” Y/N exclaimed as Spencer place his phone back in his pocket.

“Yeah, she is.”

Spencer pulled into the morgue’s parking lot, the lights were all on and the Coroners van was parked by the loading doors. Inside there was just 1 officer, waiting beside a body bag as Spencer and Y/N walked in.

The officer gave them both a quick rundown of the crime scene findings, as well as information about where all the equipment was before leaving them to their work.

“Have you ever examined a body?” Y/N asked Spencer.

He nodded, “I’ve been present during a few, held some organs, but I’ve never done one myself.”

“They’re pretty gnarly,” She scrunched her face and giggled. “Let’s get you all geared up.”

She handed him a hairnet, a white plastic suit, goggles and a mask. “Gloves are on the wall, pick your size.”

He felt like a lunch lady standing beside her, taller than her by almost a foot, dressed in all white with a hairnet. He could tell she was smiling at him under her mask, her eyes gleamed up at him in a way that made his heart melt.

He had to remind himself multiple times that this was nowhere close to the time appropriate to want to flirt with someone. They were about to examine a dead body, and potentially solve a case. There would be time to flirt later.

But he was just so amazed by how she worked, being able to tell everything that was going on by just looking at the body. Making notes on her own and only occasionally explaining things to Spencer. In her own little world, solving the puzzle with expertise.

“The other 4 vics were just strangled and staged, dressed up and left in different areas around town,” she ran the case down more for herself, needing to hear the words to make a connection.

“Yes,” Spencer followed her train of thought, tilting his head as he listened.

“She was murdered, embalmed, staged and sexually assaulted. His MO is completely different and it’s only been 2 days since the last body dropped. I think he’s found his signature,” She explained her thoughts. “His sexual aspect comes out only when they’re dead and cold, we’re dealing with a necrophile.”

“While most serial killers start with small animals before moving on to humans, he started with women and then eventually grew to what he really wanted. That’s what we were missing,” Spencer’s eyes lit up.

“He’s a lot younger than you hypothesized in the original profile,” She added.

“You read it?”

She nodded, “yeah I like to know what you’re looking at to see if I have answers.”

“This is really going to help us,” Spencer smiled, his eyes mimicking hers now.

“I can finish up here if you want to go back to your team? I can get a cab,” She offered. “Go catch this guy.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, backing up from the table and taking his equipment off. Placing them in the hazmat garbage. “Are you sure?”

“Yes Dr. Reid, I’ll be fine,” She laughed. “Can I call you if anything comes up?”

He smiled again, “call me even if something doesn’t.” He dug a contact card out of his pocket and placed it on top of her purse. Waving as he walked out of the room.

—

He thought about her smile for the rest of the afternoon, leaving his findings with Prentiss before heading back to his room to sleep for a few hours.

He finally found his way back into the police department 5 hours later, coffee in hand as he tried to absorb all the new information. They had a lead, stolen embalming equipment from a funeral home a few towns over was reported 4 days ago.

He stayed back during the apprehension of the suspect. Simmons, Lewis and Rossi were closer and they didn’t think the unsub would be dangerous. No one was missing and he wasn’t expecting them, should be easy to get him to come in for some questions.

Much like the rest of this case, it didn’t go to plan. They found another woman in his home, having to shoot him in the process. Ending the spree, ridding the world of a necrophile. It just didn’t feel like justice was served when another person had to die.

Spencer sat on his bed, calming down slightly from the end of the case. Saving a woman, killing a murderer, it was all a lot to process in such a short time.

JJ was in her bed on the other side of the room, scrolling through Facebook as she looked at photos of her kids. It was a much easier way for her to calm down, remembering that she could go home to pure, unadulterated happiness at the end of a case.

They heard a small knock on the door, Spencer volunteered to answer, opening it only a small amount as he looked out.

“Oh, hi,” surprised to see Y/N behind the door.

“Would you like to come and drink with me?” She asked, holding up a bottle in her hand. “In my room,” she added.

“Yeah, yes um, hold on,” he closed the door on her softly.

“Who’s that?” JJ smirked at him.

“My friend,” he replied quickly, running to the bathroom to look at his hair and fix his shirt. “I’ll be back later.”

He grabbed his wallet, making sure he had a condom first, before opening the door only a small amount to slip out into the hall. Hiding Y/N from JJ as she tried to look out the door.

“Sorry, my co-worker and I are sharing,” he explained.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, heading towards the stairs. “I’m just a floor up, and the elevator takes a million years.”

Spencer held the door for her, watching her head up the stairs as he noticed the bottle in one of her hands and her shoes in the other. She walked up the steps in her socks, exhausted from the day.

“Did you get any sleep?” She asked him softly as she kept climbing the steps.

“A few hours, did you?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I woke up just before they called about the body this morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to bed? You’ve been working for 12 hours,” Spencer worried for her.

She reached the door for floor 3, pulling it open with the hand she held her shoes in, “Sleep is the for weak.”

He laughed lightly, “do you want me to hold anything?”

“Here,” she handed him the bottle, “thanks.”

She dug the keycard from her pocket as he followed her towards the right door. Excitement bubbled in his chest as she opened the door and welcomed him inside.

It was exactly like his room downstairs, only there was just 1 queen bed and a few couches by the window. She set her things down on the bed, sighing deeply as she sat on the edge.

“Do you have any cups or mugs?” Spencer asked, reminding her that he was holding the alcohol still.

“Yeah, on the bar table over there,” she pointed. “I’m just going to change in the bathroom quickly, you can pour yourself a drink.”

“Okay,” he smiled awkwardly as he crossed the room.

She dug through her suitcase quickly. Spencer saw from the corner of his eye as she took out some shorts and a shirt, not even slightly worried about being so casual in front of a complete stranger.

He inspected the bottle, it was just a cheap scotch, nothing too special. He poured about an inch of the golden liquid into two cups, not a big fan of drinking but tonight he felt a little risky.

She came back looking more refreshed, very cozy, and still breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time, the tightening in his chest as he wondered where the night was going to go.

Not to mention the longing he felt.

Even before prison, he wasn’t one to spend a lot of nights alone with a beautiful stranger. The added isolation in his life changed him on a fundamental level, he realized just how much he craved contact, and just how much he’s deprived himself over the years from both men and women. He just wanted to be loved properly.

He silently handed her one of the cups, smiling at each other softly as they tapped cups. Taking the whole drink, “oh, yep that was exactly what I needed.” Y/N’s eyes watered as her face scrunched up, coughing a bit.

Spencer felt the same, only being able to hide it a bit better. The burn was nice on his throat, it made him feel alive. “Did you want to order some food or anything or?”

She laughed, “that would be the smart and responsible thing to do.”

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She looked up at him, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension in her body. Looking into his eyes with care, it was so different from the way his co-workers looked at him. She didn’t think he was broken, she had to reason to believe he was even damaged.

“Yeah,” she smiled, placing her hand on his chest as she stepped in closer to him. “Do you like mushrooms on pizza?” She giggled, even this close to him with every opportunity to kiss him, she chose to just make him smile. Something that didn’t happen too often lately.

“I do, it’s my favourite topping actually.”

She took his tie in her hands and dragged him to the couch, “I enjoy topping sometimes too.”

She sat down on the couch and looked up at him, waiting for him to sit beside her. Patting the cushion beside herself while he swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, making her smirk.

“I won’t bite Spencer,” she laughed finally. “I’m sorry if that was too much?”

“No,” he said, sitting down beside her quickly. “No, it’s fine honestly, I’m just not used to it.”

“Too busy with the FBI to find anyone to hit on you?”

He shook his head softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I uh, I was framed for murder and in prison for 3 months. I haven’t really had a conversation with anyone I don’t work with in a while.”

“Oh,” she didn’t look surprised or scared. “That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You’re soft,” she leaned in to press her hand against his chest once more, eye level with him now. Seeing his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes every few seconds as he licked his lips. “You don’t look like you want to hurt anyone, but something about your aura is changing. You know how to protect yourself now, and you’re stuck thinking you’re still in danger.”

“How can you tell all that just from looking at me?” He asked softly.

“If I showed up at any other man’s door with a bottle of alcohol and the offer of a night alone, I would have been pushed against that door the second we got here,” she explained. “You respect me, almost a little too much.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His face was soft and curious and proving her point.

“You see me as a person, but I can tell you’re touch starved. Every time I get close to you, it’s like you don’t want me to move away,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in even closer to him.

She could feel his breath on her face, her nose was close enough to brush against his as she stared at his lips, “but you won’t make the first move. You want to protect me from you.”

He nodded his head lightly before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers and making her smile. He let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders as she straddled his lap, leaning him back against the couch. He bit the bullet and let his hands rest on her hips, looking at her softly in the hopes it was okay.

“Tell me?” She begged, holding his tie in her hands, running it through her fingers as she waited. “What do you want? What you miss? Let me be that for you,” she begged.

“Anything,” he finally tells her. “Just touch me.”

She loosened his tie, freeing his neck finally. She slowly undoes every single button on his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants as she opens it up.

Her fingers are warm on his skin, but he still gasps at the touch. Her fingers were so soft, like angel kisses as the pads of her fingers traced the skin. Gliding over every freckle, raking through his chest hair, bumping along the barely-there abs.

His thumbs rubbed against her bare thighs, where he held her lightly. “You can touch me too,” she whispered.

His hands travelled up to her waist, he gently pulled her in closer. No longer resting on his legs, but pressed close to his chest. Her hands landed on his shoulders, looking down at him with nothing but pure lust as her breathing hitched.

She cupped his face, gliding her thumbs along his cheeks softly as she stared at his lips. He opened his mouth to breathe, his bottom lip was plump and beautiful and she couldn’t help herself from rubbing her thumb over it.

He kissed her thumbprint before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it softly making her hips buck into his lightly. The suction on her thumb was more erotic than she expected, the feel of his hot mouth, his wet tongue swirling around it before he let her go with a pop.

She accidentally let out a moan that excited him, “like that?”

She immediately felt her heartbeat in her clit, she nodded feverishly. Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering where this Spencer suddenly came from.

“How far are we taking this?” He asked softly. “We can stop and order that pizza at any time?”

There he was, the soft and sweet man that she brought here in the first place. “Pizza is even better after sex,” she couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting from her, even as she bit her lip.

He smiled at her like she was the world. A complete stranger making him feel more than anyone had in the last year. “I’m going to need longer than it takes to deliver a pizza,” he admitted.

“Luckily they’re open late,” she compromised, leaning in and finally kissing him.

It was soft at first, then he pulled her in even closer. She was chest to chest with him as he breathed her in deeply. She melted into his grasp as if he had just stolen her soul right out of her body.

She was his now.

She kept his face in her hands, holding him as he broke the kiss to explore her jaw. Kissing every inch of her neck and chest as she gripped his hair, making him moan as she used her nails to comb through the long locks.

“Does that feel nice?” She cooed, running her nails along his scalp as he tilted his head back.

“My favourite thing,” he explained as he closed his eyes, letting her repeat the same motion again and again.

He looked so peaceful, running his hands over her back and sides softly as she massaged him. She leaned in and kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, both eyelids and his forehead.

He wanted her to touch him everywhere, her delicate touch made him feel worthy for once. Every self-hatred of his washed from his body as she explored him with care, care only one would receive if they were a most prized possession.

He felt loved.

It was overwhelming, he didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until she was wiping it from his skin. Shushing him softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, what’s on your mind beautiful?” She asked softly as she brushed through his hair once more.

“I just,” he looked in her eyes ever so innocently. “I’m not used to feeling cared for, no one pays attention to me this way.”

“That’s shameful,” she looked utterly perplexed. “Look at you? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re powerful. You’re kind and lovely and soft?”

“But I’m also weird and too much to handle,” he interjected.

“Not to me,” she corrected him. “this morning you could have said nothing in the elevator, you could have driven by yourself and awkwardly waited till I was finished my work. But you didn’t, you had a conversation with me, you helped me many times, you cared about me making it back here safely and you didn’t even know me. You’re a special kind of person Doctor Reid, and anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.”

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and furrowed his brow, “do you ever give out parts of yourself to everyone because you know how hard it is to feel appreciated?”

“All the time,” she laughed softly. “But not now.”

“Me either,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done and I’ll tell you mine,” she offered. “Even the playing field.”

“How so?”

“Right now you think I’m super nice and kind right? And I just told you how I feel about you, but you hate yourself and outside of here I hate myself too. Share a secret, we can be fucked up together,” she smiled.

“In order to keep myself safe in prison, I poisoned a batch of heroin and almost killed a lot of people,” he responded without thinking.

“Okay,” she was a little shocked that he gave in so fast. “One time I stabbed a guy who tried to touch me after I pushed him off me twice already. He didn’t die, it barely even went in.”

“Both are technically self-defence,” he shrugged.

“See?” She smiled. “You’re not as bad and scary as you think you are. You’re smart and cunning.”

“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?” He teased her, “because this has been better for me than any therapy appointment I’ve ever gone to.”

She laughed again, kissing him softly. “I think it would be against the rules for your therapist to do this, I guess that’s why some men cheat.”

“How so?” He just liked listening to her speak.

“It’s easier to be open with someone you’ll never see again than it is with your therapist or wife because there are no consequences. They can’t judge you or hold anything against you, they do what you paid them for and they leave,” she explained herself.

“I’d like to see you again,” his voice barely a whisper. “If you’d like that?”

She nodded softly, “maybe I’ll move back to Virginia, finally.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised. I moved to Albuquerque with my girlfriend 5 years ago, and she left me about 2 years ago now,” Y/N explained. “I liked my job too much to move all the way back there and start over.”

“I can put in a good word for you where ever you want,” he offered before he could stop himself from looking too desperate.

“I’ll look into it,” she smiled.

He kissed the centre of her chest again before pulling her into a hug. Hearing her heart beating in her chest softly as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head and rubbed her hand over his back. Soothing him so completely, he felt beyond amazing.

And then she was gone, pulling back from him and standing up. “Wh-?” Before he could even ask, she was lifting her shirt off.

He stared at her breasts, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She walked over to the bar, taking another shot before she pushed her shorts down and climbed onto the bed. Completely naked in under a minute.

He stood then, pushing the opened shirt off his shoulders and immediately undoing his belt. He took a condom from his wallet before kicking off his shoes, dropping his pants and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them.

She was laying back against the pillows when he crawled over her, resting his naked body against hers ever so slightly. She just smirked as she looked up at him, “hi.”

“Hello,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“You.”

He kissed her softly on the lips, or at least he planned to. Y/N wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down against her. Swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, begging to make out with him, finally.

Grabbing and tugging at each other as everything started to heat up, she could feel his erection against her leg as he ground down on her. Sucking on his tongue, lightly making him moan into her mouth.

His hair kept tickling her face, every time she’d push it away it would just fall right back against her skin. She pulled him off by his hair, gasping for air as they stared at each other again.

“Can I be on top?” She asked lightly.

He wrapped his arms under her, holding her close as he rolled over. Watching her settle more onto her knees as she sat on his hips. “Better?”

“Much,” she said as she sat up, taking a hairband off her wrist and putting her hair up. Raising her arms in a way that made her tits perk up. He reached up and cupped them, rubbing his thumb lightly across her nipples before giving them a squeeze.

She just laughed as she finished her ponytail, “having fun?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled up at her.

His hands followed the curve of her body, from her boobs to her waist and down over her hips. She was stunning, confident, everything he ever wanted and more.

She found the condom in the sheets, the bright purple packaging making it easy to see. She played with it in her hands, seeing how long it would take before he got desperate, but he never did.

“How long have you had this?” She asked, trying to tease him.

“Not long,” he was honest. “I just got out of prison, remember?”

“So you haven’t had sex since before you went in?” She looked excited.

“No, why?”

She smiled, “so I’m taking your free man’s virginity.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing?”

“It is now,” she giggled before leaning down to kiss him once more.

Trailing kisses down his neck, stopping only to suck a mark near his Adam’s apple. Hearing the sweet little gasps he made every time her tongue came in contact with his skin. She kissed his clavicle, his shoulder and down his chest. Making her way across his abs and over his lower tummy.

He gripped the sheets, not knowing what she had planned or where she was going. Spreading his legs, she kissed his groin, his right hip bone and the inside of his thighs. He couldn’t believe it, the way she explored him so delicately.

She ignored his cock for a while, kissing and sucking at any and all the visible skin she could find. He felt her smile against his thigh then, getting closer and closer before she took his cock in her hand and kissed the base.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, settling into the bed like water filling a glass, he was liquid in her hands. Her mouth was a blessing and she chose him to worship.

“Fuck,” he moaned as she took all of him as far as she could. Dragging her tongue along the shaft as she pulled back up. Swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in once more.

She pulled off with a pop, sitting up now with his dick still in her hands. She tore the condom open with her teeth, taking the package off and rolling it over him.

His dick bounced back against his stomach when she let go of it, hard enough that it had a mind of its own now. She bit her lip as she lifted herself over him more, setting herself down softly where it laid against him.

The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm.

He could feel how wet she was, the way she glided over him so easily. Her breath hitching every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself. It made him even more excited. She leaned back down then, kissing his neck once more as she continued to push down on him.

“I need you,” Spencer gasped.

She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on it. He watched himself disappear inside of her, feeling the way she took him in like he was always meant to be there.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Spencer’s stomach as she tried to get used to it all. Listing herself up and down little by little to get the rhythm going again.

Spencer pulled her back in again, arching her back so she could bounce easier. She held him close, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as she started to move faster and faster on him. Hearing his breathing pick up as his grip tightened on her asscheeks.

She kept one hand in his hair as her other hand reached for her clit, pleasuring herself slightly the way she knew she liked it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered against his skin as she fucked him.

It had never felt like this before, it was so personal for the first time. They worked together perfectly, not having to communicate at all, following the other person’s rhythm like a well-oiled machine with a task.

He felt her everywhere. Her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck. The way her hot breath tickled right under his ear as she tried to catch her breath against him. The way she pulled off him and sucked him back in, again and again, her breasts against his chest and her ass in his hands.

He couldn’t believe it. That a real human being cared about and appreciated him, even after learning his worst secret. She was special and different and everything he needed.

He could feel himself getting closer, wanting to savour every moment with her that he could. His hands roamed her back, over her shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch every single inch of her while he had the chance.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his.

They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. Euphoria filling the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking violently over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees and driving into her a few more times before he finished.

She tugged on his hair then, biting his bottom lip as she felt him twitch inside of her. Letting out the smallest gasps and whimpers as she pulled her hand out from between them and pushed herself off him.

Dropping her body against his, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a hug as he repeatedly kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he was still out of breath as he said it.

She smiled, laughing against his skin again as she hugged him back.

—

He woke up to the sun in his eyes and the feeling of lips against his skin. He blinked as gained consciousness, finding Y/N laying against his chest again. Her face in his heck where she was placing lazy kisses, trying to wake him up nicely.

“Good morning?” His voice was groggy and deep, it made her smile against his skin. A feeling he didn’t realize he missed so much during the night.

“What time is your flight back?”

“10:30, why?” He asked softly, rubbing his hand over her back softly.

She held him tighter, breathing him in deeply as she did so. Not wanting to let him go any time soon, “it’s 9:45.”

“Is it bad I’m hoping there’s a secret serial killer in Albuquerque?”

She laughed again, sitting up this time so she could look at him again. “Maybe I’ll come to visit my parents soon a find a reason to stay in Virginia?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss. Never wanting it to be the last one.

He waited till the last possible moment to finally peel himself out of her grasp, trying to find all his clothes and belongings from the night before

He kissed her quickly at the door before taking off down the steps and back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with JJ. He knocked on their door lightly, hoping to every god on earth she hadn’t left yet.

She opened the door and just stared at him with her mouth open, “oh my god?” She laughed.

“What?” He asked, completely oblivious to how he looked.

JJ dragged him inside, pulling him towards a mirror and pointing at his reflection. “What happened to you?”

His hair was a mess, he had hickeys all over his neck. His shirt was barely buttoned, definitely not untucked and he didn’t even have his shoes on. “oh.”

“Oh?” JJ couldn’t believe it. “Who is she?”

“Um, the ME from this case,” he explained, scratching the back of his head as he squinted.

JJ just laughed then, “hurry up and look somewhat presentable, pretty boy, the team is going to eat you alive for this.”

Sure enough, when he finally sat in his little corner of the plane with his glasses on and a hickey still visible above his collar, all eyes were on him. No one wanted to ask, they all just made it abundantly clear that they were curious.

Alvez even took a photo to send to Penelope, who sent it to Derek, who texted Reid only 20 minutes into the flight asking who she was. He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. About to get really pissed when a second text came in.

555-0623: if you’re still serious about that recommendation, there is a spot available at the DC medical examiner’s office… I’d probably be closer to you than your therapist’s office 💋

He smiled then, saving her number and starting his letter.