#same thing i do with hotch and reid and prentiss and jj and morgan and literally every single member of the core bau team

[ddejavvu]

Joyce and Hopper

Ultimate Mom and Dad 🥰, yet also ultimate Mommy and Daddy 🥵

Picking between these options is an impossibility

the trick is to favorite both jopper x reader and jopper x daughter!reader (or son or child) and spin a wheel to decide if you're their baby or their baby for the day

[g0dlyunsub]

don't pretend.

spencer can see through all of your lies, including the bruises you’re hiding behind makeup.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of prisons, physical violence, bruises, reader gets injured, patching up, fluff

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: oh, looks like i’ve spawned another hurt/comfort fic yet again…

accompanying song :: who hurt you by role model

you’re an ambitious profiler. 

you’re such an ambitious profiler that you interview offenders with the most extensive list of records whenever you have time. you want to understand more than just the simple question of why they did it. you want to explore the how’s and what if’s.

and you’re soft-hearted, so much so that you jeopardize your own safety. 

things should’ve gone smoothly with your fifth and last inmate of the week, had you been a little more aware of your surroundings.

but you placed too much faith on your ability to make peace with the man who unyieldingly worshiped violence.

that was your only mistake, but it was a costly one. 

you had kindly asked the guard to release the handcuffs, even though he insisted that they stay on. 

it’s alright, you told him with the wave of your hand. 

but you should’ve noticed the look of challenge on the inmate’s face. it was like he was taunting you, almost as if to say, do you really feel safe being in the same room as me?

it was your soft-heartedness that almost got you severely injured. 

he managed to land punches to your left cheek and scratched his nails into the flesh of your leg as he fell, right as he was tackled to the ground. 

he laughed when he saw you holding your hand against your throbbing cheek.

you arrive at the office as early as you can, a layer of makeup thicker than usual coating the bruise swelling your left cheek. 

you pretend to bury your head in the case file that you retrieved from your desk when the rest of the team started to flood into the room.

when spencer arrives, he gives you a nod and gleefully chirps good morning as he takes his seat beside you. 

spencer knows your routine like the back of his palm – he knows you’re busy with interviews at the federal prison on saturdays and sundays, and he knows you always need a caffeine boost the next morning. you gladly accept the cup of coffee that he sets in front of your hands with a small smile.

as hotch is debriefing the case with garcia, however, you can’t help but feel his eyes drilling into the side of your face, as if he can see through your cover. 

your makeup can’t be that obvious, right?

your thoughts are interrupted when hotch closes the cover of his case file, stands, and announces wheels up in 20. 

you lift yourself with the support of the table and wait for everyone else to exit before you follow, doing your best to disguise the limp in your walk.

---

“alright. jj and prentiss, go to the morgue. morgan and reid, go to the crime scene. dave, you and l/n can set up with the local p.d. i’ll go talk to the victims’ families.”

as hotch assigns roles to the team, everyone nods when their names are called out. but spencer raises his hand slightly and clears his throat.

“actually, hotch, do you mind if i switch with rossi and set up with l/n and the locals instead?”

hotch hesitates for a second, but nods slowly. 

“sure. dave, you okay with that?”

the italian agent cocks up a questioning eyebrow but gives a warm smile. “i don’t see why not.”

you’ve never heard spencer contest hotch’s orders before, so you’re stumped as to why he’s suggesting an alternative role this time. but you soon brush off the thought, and decide to occupy your time re-reading the case files before the jet lands.

you sink into your seat with a heavy sigh, forcing your eyes shut as pain travels down your legs. you’re thankful that hotch assigned you to set up at the local p.d., since it doesn’t require much locomotion and spares you the struggle of getting up constantly. you watch as spencer spreads the corners of the map and sticks push pins into the corkboard. 

“how did your interviews go yesterday?” spencer breaks the silence first and moves to grab a red marker. with his practiced hand, he quickly circles the areas of the crime scenes on the map.

you gulp.

“they went pretty well, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

spencer caps the tip, and a click sounds as the plastic edges meet. he nods, wets his lips with his tongue, and turns to look at you. you meet his gaze for a brief second before you look away, pretending to busy yourself with the m.e. reports that jj sent over.

“green neutralizes red.”

his sudden remark startles you. you drop the papers in your hands and look up. “i’m sorry?”

“green contains the wavelengths that are missing in red light, so when they mix, the colors neutralize each other. that’s why concealers with a green base are better at covering up more reddish bruising,” spencer elaborates, and starts to match up the photos of the crime scenes to the locations marked on the map.

you blink. oh.

there’s no way he’s talking about you, right?

“um, yeah, green’s a common color corrector,” you mutter as you nervously tap your fingers against the wooden table. “but there weren’t any bruises or marks of assault on the victims.” 

spencer scoffs as you finish your sentence.

“it’s not about the victims. you. i’m talking about you.” 

you swallow slowly. 

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try, a fake smile plastered over your face as you shake your head left and right. 

spencer studies you with a scrutinizing stare, eyes boring into yours like he’s counting the number of times you blink.

“could you grab that for me?” he asks at last, pointing to the book that’s two tables away, the one titled florida’s topography and bathymetry. without thinking, you nod and stand.

fuck.

what a clever way to set you up. now you have to somehow mask the limp in your steps and pretend like the pain coursing through your legs is nonexistent.

you do your best to walk normally, but it’s hard to tell if you’re doing a good job from his unreadable stare. you hold the book out with a bemused smile, hoping it’s enough to cover your pained expression.

he doesn’t look convinced. 

“that,” spencer points to your leg with an accusatory gaze, “why are you walking like that?” 

he swiftly takes the book from you, and your hand instinctively grips the side of the table for support.

“like what?” 

you’re going to make him pry the confession out of you. 

“like you’re hurting,” spencer utters quietly. his last word catches your breath completely.

“is that why you asked rossi to switch with you? so you could interrogate me?” 

“who hurt you?” spencer ignores your question, setting the book aside and leaning over the table to get a closer look at your face. 

instinctively, you retreat and look down, but he walks around the table and kneels in front of you. your brain buzzes with the words he’s just declared. it’s not what did you do, or what happened to you. instead, it’s who hurt you. 

“i… it’s nothing.” you shift in your chair, but he stops the seat from turning completely by laying a hand on the headrest.

“tell me. please.” 

you can’t fake it anymore, especially when he’s already hammered the nail into the hole perfectly.

you rub your sweaty palms on your lap. “one of them tried to hurt me during the interview. i-it was my fault, i asked the guards to take off the cuffs. i thought they’d be more willing to cooperate that way.”

spencer’s expression mellows as you speak, but he doesn’t return a comment. somehow, this makes you even more nervous.

a second after, he lifts his hand and slides a finger along the slightly swollen area of your cheek. he hesitates when you start to wince in pain.

tapping his knee with his index finger, he instructs, “let me take a look at your leg.”

you comply.

when you lift your leg, spencer’s hand slips between the wedge of your platform's heel, and gracefully sets your foot on his knee. 

you observe him gently push the thin fabric of your trousers upwards. you hold your breath when he leans in to inspect closely, and you almost shudder when the vapor of his warm breath tickles the gash on your flared shin. 

spencer steps back to retrieve a first-aid kit lying nearby and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. without saying a single word, he pulls a cotton pad and a gauze roll from the bag.

as he wraps your leg with the gauze, he looks up to meet your lowered gaze.

“tell me his name.”

you bite your lip.

“it’s fine. you should focus on the geo-profile instead.” you exhale as spencer unfolds the rolls on the hem of your trousers to cover your leg again.

“you do know that it won’t take me long to go through every incident report,” he retorts back with a challenging glint in his eye. your cheeks heat up with a hot flush of red.

goddamnit, spencer reid. 

you hastily brush yourself away from him.

“what are you going to do?”

he pauses, every second of silence only feeding your suspicions. you watch the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

“you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

you huff.

“don’t use my words against me.” 

he shrugs with an indifferent expression, but chuckles before standing back up.

“his name. or do we want to do this the hard way?”

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“…No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

A Test Of Faith

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: to test the BAU, a bold unsub abducts one of their members and sends the team on a wild goose chase. with reckless decisions and personal feelings taking hold, will the team be able to save one of their own or will their faith in each other come crumbling down?

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, mentions of drugs, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of injury, angst, 3rd person, slight fluff, minor cursing

word count: 7k

a/n: this isn’t proofread so i’m sorry for any mistakes!

part two (coming soon)

read on ao3

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

“Hey, has anyone seen y/n this morning?” Reid asked with a frown as he entered the bullpen, hanging his bag over the back of his chair.

“She’s not here yet, why?”

His face only scrunched up further at Morgan’s words. He knew it was unusual for her to be late to work, let alone skip out on plans at the last minute. “It’s just, we were supposed to get coffee this morning but she didn’t show.”

Morgan shrugged. “Maybe she overslept?”

“Maybe…”

He wanted to believe it because the alternative, which had already begun to play on his mind, was much worse. Still, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that was starting to settle into the bottom of his stomach. That uneasy feeling which had taken hold before he’d even left the coffee shop where they were supposed to meet.

Something was wrong. He knew that even before the box arrived.

It was delivered by courier directly to the office. The only indicator of who it was for was in thick, red marker across the top of the box which spelt out nothing but ‘BAU’. The handwriting was neat but unnecessarily large.

Morgan held the box, inspecting it as Reid and Prentiss peered over his shoulders.

“What is it?” Emily questioned, waiting for Morgan to open the package.

“Nothing good.” All eyes turned to their superior as he approached, holding up a letter written in the same red ink that decorated the box.

Hotchner passed the note to Prentiss, allowing her to read it to the rest of the team. “‘For Agent Hotchner at the BAU. A package will arrive not long after you read this, I suggest you gather your team and prepare for the game’?”

“Game? What game?”

Reid furrowed his brows at Morgan’s question, already trying to piece together what was going on. “You don’t think this has anything to do with why y/n is late, do you?”

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that we’re going to need the whole team on this. Reid, try to get in contact with y/n and find out where she is. Prentiss, gather the others. I want everyone in the briefing room within the next five minutes.”

Just like that, the group dispersed and, within minutes, they assembled again for the briefing.

“Still no y/n?”

Reid shook his head as he pushed his phone back into his pocket. “She isn’t answering her phone.”

“No matter, we’ll have to catch her up when she gets here. We can’t waste any more time, we need to know what’s inside the box,” Hotch sighed and signalled for Morgan to finally open it up.

The team watched on anxiously, worried about the contents of the package they’d received. More often than not, packages with notes such as the one they’d received were a little more than unpleasant.

The one thing that gave them hope, was the fact that no blood seemed to be staining the cardboard from the inside. Although that didn’t mean there wasn’t a victim’s body part inside

“A CD?” Morgan frowned when he revealed its contents, only growing more curious as he checked both the front and back of the case.

It was Electra Heart by Marina and the Diamonds, not that anyone thought that detail was of any particular importance.

“Could just be a case the unsub is using to protect the disc. It’s most likely a video,” JJ gave her input as she reached out for the disc before moving to play it on the screen.

The room was silent as she prepared the video, nervous to find out what was on it.

Would it be a video of the unsub? Perhaps a video of them committing a crime? Murder? Torture? Assault? Something else altogether? Or had it really just been a prank? Was it really just an album?

“Oh god-” Garcia gasped, hands moving to cover her mouth the moment the video began to play, tears already pricking in the corner of her startled eyes.

That uneasy feeling in Reid’s gut only grew stronger, twisting and turning until it became all that consumed him. It had never been this bad before, not even when he himself was the one in danger. He was terrified.

Terrified for her.

There she was. Y/n, the agent who had not been late to work but abducted by their unsub. Taken in the dead of night to become a pawn in his sick game.

She was standing, just barely, with nothing but the chains around her wrists holding her up. Half-dried blood stained her forehead and matted her hair. The video only lasted for fifty-five seconds. Fifty-five seconds of nothing but her hanging there, feet barely on the ground. She was conscious but only just, likely concussed from the wound on her head.

“She’s been struck around the head, likely to incapacitate her before she could fight back during the abduction,” Morgan identified, eyes trained on the video.

“The unsub knows what he’s doing. There isn’t anything in the video that could indicate where she is,” Rossi added as he perched down on the end of the table to examine the paused video further.

Hotch hummed as he too was glued to the screen. “She can’t be far, she must have been abducted sometime since leaving here yesterday and this morning. Most likely during the night.”

JJ turned from the screen, unable to watch any longer. “We left at the same time last night and it’s unlikely she would have stopped on her way home.”

“Can we stop talking about her like she’s some random victim? This is y/n we’re talking about,” Reid snapped, drawing all eyes to him.

Each new comment in the discussion had been piling up until he just couldn’t take it anymore. This wasn’t just some case, nor was it any other victim. This was y/n — their friend.

“Reid, we know she isn’t just any victim but we have to look at this like we would any other case. It’s the only way we’re going to find her,” Morgan reminded, hoping to ease Reid at least a little.

“JJ, play the video again. We need to look for anything that could help us figure out where they are and Reid, I need you to focus. We’re going to need your brain on this.”

The youngest of them nodded, heeding Hotch’s words. This was just a game to the unsub — a game he’d made specifically for the BAU team. They were the only ones who could save her, he knew that.

“Hey, there’s something else in here. Looks like a note, taped to the inside of the box,” Prentiss announced before JJ had a chance to replay the video.

“What is it?” Reid was the first to jump at the new information, hoping it would be a better indication of where their missing friend was than the video.

Prentiss carefully tore the note from the box and began to read it out loud, “It’s a riddle. ‘I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains but no trees. I have water but no fish. What am I?’”

“A map,” Reid concluded after only a brief moment of pause, “It’s a map.”

“A map? I don’t see any kind of map here.” Morgan gestured at the now empty package before crossing his arms over his chest. He knew the wonder boy was right but he still couldn’t understand what the riddle could mean.

Hotch too seemed to be running circles in his head, unsure of what their unsub was trying to point them to. “Does it say anything else?”

Emily looked up from the note with troubled eyes as she voiced the final part, “Find her by midnight and she’ll live. Good luck, Agents.”

As if on cue, Reid vocalised the conclusion he had come to in his head, jumping to his feet like he was about to rush there himself without a second thought. “The Marina.”

“You think the unsub is holding her at the Marina?”

“I think it’s the only indication of a map I can find in all this. Marina and the Diamonds? The unsub didn’t choose that album without reason.”

Hotch hummed, seemingly agreeing with Reid’s deduction, and began to give directions. “Okay. Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi will come with me to the Marina. JJ, I need you and Reid to watch the video again. Look for anything we might have missed in case we’re wrong. And Garcia, I need you to track down exactly who delivered the package and where they delivered it from.”

Everyone got to their feet, springing into action as they would on any other case. They all knew their part to play and knew it was vital in locating their missing team member. Everyone other than Reid, who was less than happy to have been told to stay behind.

“No, I’m going with you.”

“Reid…” Hotch turned to him with a hand to his brow, already anticipating the headache that was to come if he continued to clash with the young doctor.

“No,” he cut him off again, “This is not negotiable. I’m going to the Marina with you.”

With a sigh, the unit chief gave in, knowing there was little he could do to keep Reid in the office. “Okay, Reid you’re with us. Prentiss, you stay here with JJ. Call us the moment you find anything.”

𓆩♡𓆪

Spencer had been restless the entire ride there. His hands were fidgety in his lap, his nails occasionally digging into the skin of his palms. He was stressed and more on edge than the rest of the team, not that anyone had expected any less.

Everyone knew that Reid had had a budding crush on y/n since she joined the BAU. Not that he’d ever acted on it. Morgan teased him about it constantly, comparing it to a schoolboy crush. Only, it wasn’t just a schoolboy crush. Not anymore.

The longer they had gotten to know one another, the closer y/n and Reid became. He felt as though she was the only one who really saw him, not that the rest of the team didn’t care greatly for him. She just understood him better than anyone else.

So, to say it was a simple crush would be a lie. He was in love with her. How couldn’t he be? She was pretty and funny and kind and a great agent. She saw him for who he really was and accepted every part of him. She stood up for him when the team teased him about his rambling. She always listened so intently, never once cutting him off no matter what it was he was talking about.

He was in love with her but now, he feared more than ever that he was about to lose her.

“She’s going to be okay, Reid,” Morgan comforted from the seat beside him, squeezing Reid’s shoulder as if the gesture would ease his fear.

Nothing would ease it. Not until she was safe.

It wasn’t like Reid to doubt himself. He knew he was right about the riddle, he had to be, yet he was still starting to wonder what would happen if he was wrong.

They only had until midnight. There was no time to spare and if he was wrong about this they might just lose her.

“I know,” he lied, trying to mask his true feelings.

Morgan sighed, seeing through Reid’s weak façade. No matter what he said or did, it hadn’t stopped his legs from bouncing or his hands from shaking.

The moment they arrived, Reid was fast to get out of the van. Too enthusiastic about rushing in headfirst to save her. He glanced around, taking in the fresh air as if his lungs had been deprived for hours.

“Spread out and search the area,” Hotch ordered and the team nodded, checking their vests one last time before pulling out their guns for the sweep.

They searched almost everywhere but found nothing. No sign that y/n or the unsub had ever been there. It was just a Marina and none of the boats there were big enough to fit the room they’d seen in the video.

Reid was beginning to believe that he really was wrong, that he had just wasted time they didn’t have on a hunch. Well, he was beginning to lose hope until Rossi called the team over to his location.

With a fast-beating heart, Reid ran as fast as he could manage to see what Rossi had found. He prayed it was her and that she was safe — that it was over.

Disappointment was not quite the right word for his feelings when he arrived and saw she wasn’t there because something was there. Another note, written in that same red marker.

“‘So you figured it out. Well done, agents. I hate to disappoint but your missing agent isn’t here but I hope this gift will help keep you on the trail’?” Rossi read the letter aloud before turning it over to find a USB taped to the other side.

“He’s playing with us.” Morgan shook his head, already growing tired of the unsub’s game.

“Or testing us,” Reid argued, “He’s referred to us as ‘agents’ in every note so far. It’s like he’s-”

“A part of the bureau,” Hotch finished for him, drawing the same conclusion, “Likely an ex-agent or even an ex-recruit.”

Morgan’s brow creased and he asked, “By why us? Why is he testing us? And why did he take y/n? He could have taken any one of us, why her?”

“Because she’s the newest member of the BAU. Maybe he doesn’t see her as an official member of the team yet?” Queried Reid.

“Or he just thought she’d be the easiest to abduct because she’s less experienced,” Rossi added.

“Whatever the reason, we don’t have a lot of time. The unsub must have had base access to use the marina. Reid, Morgan, I need you to speak with the workers here. See if they’ve seen anyone strange and ask for records to find out who owns this boat. We’ll head back to check in with the rest of the team and get this to Garcia.” Hotch held up the USB, knowing Garcia was the safest person to give it to as there was no way to know what would be on it.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Anything?”

“No, you?”

Reid shrugged. “Not much but I did get a name for the boat owner. Rudd Richardson.”

“Did you run it by Garcia?”

“Yeah, Rudd Richardson died three years ago.”

Morgan hummed in thought. “So our unsub is using a dead man’s name?”

“Maybe. Garcia is looking for any other property that is still registered in his name but she hasn’t been able to find anything yet and it doesn’t look like the unsub has taken Richardson’s identity.”

Their discussion was cut short when Reid’s phone began to ring.

“Garcia?”

He shook his head, looking up from his phone in disbelief. “No. It’s y/n.”

Right away Morgan pulled out his cell to call Garcia. If it really was y/n or even the unsub they would need her to trace the call.

“Y/n?” Questioned Reid as he put the phone on speaker, his voice already settling into a tone of urgency.

The line was silent but the trace had already begun, all they needed to do now was keep them on the phone.

After a brief moment of static, a weak voice finally spoke from the other side, “Reid?”

“Y/n! Y/n, can you tell us where you are? Are you alright?” He spoke at a hundred miles a minute, desperate to know she was okay.

Static again as the phone on the other end seemed to move from one ear to another.

The young doctor gulped as another voice began to speak, “She knew you would figure it out… The first clue. Let’s see how quickly you figure out the rest. The sands of time are forever slipping…”

The voice was dark and warped, spoken through a voice-changing device. Its sinister vibrations sent a chill up Spencer’s spine.

“Wait! Y/n!”

“Dammit,” Morgan spoke bitterly, knowing the call had not been long enough to give them any hint on their location, “He’s taunting us.”

“We need to get back to the others. He said this was the first clue, the USB must be the next.”

Morgan sighed. “We have to play his game. Or we may never find her…”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Please tell me you guys have got something,” Morgan asked while looking down at his watch.

There was still time but there was no way to know if the unsub would stay true to his word.

“Nothing yet. The USB locked Garcia out of the system the moment she plugged it in, she’s trying to regain access now,” JJ explained with a sigh before turning her attention back to the files in her hands.

Reid was only growing more anxious and began fishing for anything else that could be of use. “What about the video?”

“Nothing. We’ve watched it a hundred times but there’s nothing in it that could tell us where they are.” Prentiss chimed in as she too walked over with a new batch of files.

“So what do we do? We can’t just sit around and wait for Garcia to get the system up and running again.”

JJ split the files he was holding into three before passing a pile out to Reid and Morgan. “I know you’re worried, Spence. We all are but there isn’t a lot we can do right now. Until she gets back in all we really can do is look at these files to see if anyone fits the profile.”

“Profile? We’ve got a profile?” Morgan questioned as he began to flick through the files.

“Well, Hotch told us you think it’s an ex-agent or recruit but other than that we don’t really have a lot to go on so right now we’re just looking for anyone that sticks out.”

Reid dropped the files down onto the desk with a scoff, “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack. This isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“It’s better than sitting around twiddling our thumbs.” Morgan shrugged.

“Look, Reid, if you don’t want to look through the files then go help Hotch and Rossi. They’re looking for anywhere she could be being held. Warehouses, storerooms, abandoned homes. Look for anything and everything and start making it down.”

He only grew more frustrated as he listened to Prentiss. “So if we run out of time we’re just going to start knocking on doors until we find her?”

“We don’t really have any other choice right now. Not until Garcia gets back into the system. He’s testing us, right? So this is probably just another test. She’s got this.”

Like Morgan, Reid also had full faith that Garcia would get back into the system but he was worried about how long it would take her to do so. They were on the clock and every second they spent sitting around waiting for her would only bring them closer to their deadline.

So, to try and ease his mind, Spencer decided to go help Hotch and Rossi in the hope that it would help bring them closer to finding y/n.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I’m back in. I’m back in!” Garcia cried out and soon the team were rushing into her office.

It had been no longer than an hour but that was still an hour they didn’t have to spare in the first place.

She tapped away on her keyboard, eyes flickering across the screen at the speed of light as she searched for any trace of what the unsub had tried to achieve by locking her out of her own system.

“He’s watching us,” she announced when her tapping fingers finally began to calm down, “I don’t think I can remove him from the system, not from my end anyway. I had to reboot the whole thing just to get back in. It’s amazing he’s even still here.”

“So he can see everything we do?” Rossi questioned, wanting to know exactly what the unsub was able to do with his access to the system.

Garcia hummed, “Yep. Well, he can see through our webcams but he doesn’t have access to my screen. That was a nasty piece of malware but it won’t give him access to any of my files.”

Just as Hotch opened his mouth to speak, a notification sound rang from the speakers and a message popped up on the screen. It was typed out rather than written but the red colour still prevailed.

‘Well done, Agents. You’ve cracked the code and earned your next clue: I can’t be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance. I’m worthless to one, but priceless to two. What am I?’

“Love… the answer is love,” Reid announced with a tightening heart.

“But what does that mean? Love, what kind of a clue is that?” Morgan complained, once again growing tired of the game they were being forced to play.

Prentiss hummed in thought for a moment before asking, “What about wedding venues? A church maybe?”

“Or some kind of date spot? A restaurant?” JJ added.

Before long, everyone was throwing out ideas but nothing was clicking.

Hotch was the first to catch onto the lead again. “Garcia, see if Mr Richardson was married.”

“Okay.” The tech-whiz complied and began tapping away on her keyboard again.

Within only a few short seconds she had her answer. “He married Triss Anderson in 1984 but she died during childbirth over twenty years ago.”

“What about their child?” Morgan prompted, drawing at any loose threads.

Her eyes flicked over the screen again as she searched for the information. “They had a daughter. She’s living here in Quantico, only a few blocks away from here actually.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“No car,” Prentiss stated as they approached the house.

Rossi stepped up to the door while Reid and Morgan peered in through the windows.

“Look’s like no one’s home,” Morgan sighed.

Still, Rossi tried the door. “Miss Richardson?”

When no response came, he banged again.

“You’re looking for Jen?” They turned around to the neighbour, eager to hear what she had to say. “She left for vacation just over a week ago. I’m Michelle, I live across the street. Maybe I can help you?”

“Do you know when she’s supposed to come home?” Reid questioned, worried they had wasted their time.

Michelle thought for a moment before replying, “Actually, now that you mention it I think she was due back last night.”

“So she hasn’t come home?” Asked Prentiss as she hurriedly pulled out her phone.

“No, I guess not. You don’t think anything has happened to her, do you?”

As Rossi began to reassure Miss Richardson’s neighbour, the others quickly headed back to the van.

Prentiss held her phone to her ear, exchanging a worried glance with Morgan as she spoke with the unit chief, “Hotch, we might have another missing person on our hands.”

“Are you Spencer Reid?”

Spencer turned from the van just before opening the door to find a young boy standing behind him.

“Yeah, you know me?”

The child shook his head and shyly held out a piece of paper and pointed down the street with his free hand. “That man over there told me to give this to you.”

As he took the paper, Spencer quickly looked in the direction the boy was pointing but whoever may have been there had long since gone.

“Thank you, kid. Get home safe now, okay?” Morgan had to speak for him while Reid examined the note.

“It’s an address, Morgan. He’s given us an address.”

𓆩♡𓆪

Wasting no time, the group headed for the address on the note. Garcia ran it through the system and found it to be an empty home, one currently up for sale.

It was the perfect place for the unsub to hold them, although Morgan still doubted the nature of the note. It didn’t make sense for him to just give them the answer now. Not after making them jump through hoops to so much as obtain a single clue.

“Reid, wait,” he reached out for the youngest, holding him back from rushing straight inside, “We don’t know what we’re going to find in there.”

“We can’t wait, what if y/n is in there?” Reid was quick to shake him off, desperate to find her.

Morgan sighed as he pulled out his gun. “The unsub could be in there too, just don’t do anything rash.”

Spencer was the first to the door. He stood ready as Morgan exchanged one quick, affirmative glance with Rossi before kicking down the door.

In the blink of an eye, all four agents infiltrated the home and began to cautiously clear each room.

“Clear!” Prentiss called out from the bathroom as Morgan and Reid began to scale the stairs.

She slowly approached the bedroom, knowing it was the last room to check. If they were going to find anything, it was going to be in there.

When Morgan and Reid were close enough behind her to have her back, she reached for the handle and quickly opened the door.

She checked every corner of the room before giving the all-clear but something was wrong. Her voice was quiet, choked even, as she entered the room.

Morgan turned to Reid, not knowing what to do other than keep him away to stop him from looking inside but he was too late, he’d already caught a glimpse of what was waiting for them inside.

“Y/n? Y/n!” he cried as he rushed towards the room, shoving past Morgan who moved to stop him.

In the middle of the empty room was a body. A woman wearing clothes Reid recognised. She was lifeless and stained in blood. When his hands shakily reached out to her, he felt the coldness of her skin on the tips of his fingers.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe.

He got back up, unable to bring himself to look at her face – to turn her over and come face-to-face with her void eyes.

Everything was a blur, all of his senses going dull as Morgan moved to further inspect the body.

Emily too was standing near the door as if she were frozen in place with her hand covering her mouth.

Slowly, Morgan rolled the body over onto its back. He was quiet, almost too quiet, before he finally released the breath he had been holding.

“It’s not her.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Jena Richardson, daughter of Rodd Richardson. A twenty-six-year-old entrepreneur. She was supposed to go on vacation to Europe eight days ago,” Garcia read through the information she had discovered about the woman.

“He chose her for a reason. He did all of this for a reason. Been planning it for a while too.”

Hotch hummed in agreement with Morgan. “He took Miss Richardson before she had a chance to leave for her vacation, she never left. Her bags are likely still inside her home.”

“And when he took y/n, he stole some of her clothes to dress the victim in so that we would think it was her. That’s why he chose the victim… because she looked like y/n,” Prentiss concluded.

The whole team had gathered in the briefing room again, discussing their next course of action.

“There was nothing else on the body or in the house? No next clue? Nothing to tell us where he might be holding her?” Hotch questioned, hopeful that there would have been something — anything.

Prentiss shook her head. There was nothing. Nothing at all. They had searched everywhere. Every single inch of that house but there was nothing there. Nothing but the body.

“Then we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report, maybe the unsub left a clue for us there.”

“No, we don’t have time to wait. We only have a few hours left. There has to be something we’re missing.” Reid began to pace the room, running through everything they’d discovered so far in his head.

“Reid,” Morgan began, “We’ve run out of options but we still have time.”

The young doctor only began to shake his head, his eyes glaring in disbelief that his team could even suggest to sit around and wait while y/n was in danger. “No, we don’t. We have hours and if we just keep sitting around waiting she’s going to die.”

Just like that, he was storming out of the briefing room and, while Hotch gave new directions to the rest of the team, JJ jumped up to go after him.

“Spence!”

“If you’re just going to tell me to sit tight and wait like everyone else you’re wasting your breath.”

She understood how he was feeling because she knew how he felt about y/n. She knew it was a fool's errand trying to calm him down or convince him everything was going to be alright. All she wanted to do was be there for him when hope began to fade.

“Where are you going?”

He tugged at his collar, his fingers moving to loosen his tie in a desperate attempt to breathe. “I need some air.”

She let it be as he rushed through the bullpen, heading straight for the elevator. If she had left a moment earlier, she wouldn’t have heard the sound of a text coming through on his phone as the elevator doors began to close.

His eyes widened as he read the message, one that had come through from her: ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? Love? When you lose the thing you love, there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do to be reunited with it. That’s what I did, you know. I reunited Miss Richardson with her beloved father. Now I’m giving you the chance to be reunited with the one you love, so long as you come alone.’

Another text came through by the time he reached the bottom of the building. Another address.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Where’s Reid?”

JJ looked up from her paperwork and glanced out into the bullpen. “He’s not back yet?”

Morgan frowned. “No. Where did he go?”

“He said he needed to get some air but he should have been back by now,” she explained as she stood up, realising what had happened, “Shit.”

“What?”

“He got a text before he got into the elevator.”

Morgan was already half out of the room by the time she finished her sentence. “The unsub.”

The two of them all but ran to the rest of their team, already gathering their things to leave as questions started flooding in.

“Reid’s gone after him,” Morgan announced as the rest of the team gathered their equipment and began to head for the door.

“Alone?” Prentiss furrowed her brows, she had hoped he would have known better than that.

JJ stuttered, still in disbelief, “H-He said he was just going outside to get some air.”

Hotch was already pointing Garcia back into her office before she’d even made it through the door. “Garcia I need you to find Reid’s car. Tell us the moment you know what direction he was headed.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Everyone was in hyperdrive, working against the clock to find Reid and y/n before it was too late. They were already in the SUVs, splitting into two groups before they even had any information on where he was going.

𓆩♡𓆪

There he stood, outside a property that they never would have even considered including during their search for it was not empty or abandoned but rather a home. A home that seemed well lived in from the moment he stepped inside.

No one was there. Not a single soul. Yet every surface was decorated with family pictures. A mother, father and son. A happy family.

From the photos, the son seemed to be no older than four and all Reid could do was hope nothing bad had happened to him or his family.

With his gun raised, he slowly made his way through the house until he reached the door he was looking for — the door to the basement.

Quietly, he descended into the darkest depths of the house. The stairs barely made a creak and, by the time he could see into the room, he saw her.

“Welcome, Doctor Reid.”

The man was standing beside her, face half-hidden in the shadows. He had a knife and held it firmly near her stomach in a silent threat.

“Let her go,” Reid demanded, although when the unsub did not budge, he opted for negotiation over immediate violence.

Stepping from the shadows, the unsub revealed himself. Reid recognised him the moment the dull light illuminated his features. He was the father in the photos upstairs but he was older now and more unkept than he appeared in the pictures.

“I don’t know what happened to your family but please, you have to let her go,” he pleaded again, eyes flickering over to y/n.

Other than the injuries she had sustained during the abduction, she seemed okay but he noticed how weak she seemed. Her injuries were not bad enough to be the cause of her drowsy state. The unsub may not have harmed her further but it seemed likely she had been drugged.

“Reid…” she spoke in a quiet voice, her hooded eyes barely open as she looked at him, struggling to lift her head.

The unsub looked between them with a smile as if he was truly happy to see them this way. “Young love, isn’t it so precious?”

“What do you want?”

“Me? No, this isn’t about what I want. This is about what you want,” the unsub looked at y/n as she stood half-dangling beside him and pointed, “Her. You want her, don’t you?”

Reid raised his gun again, finger resting on the trigger the moment the man drew closer to her.

“You lost your family,” he stated, gaining the unsub’s attention once again, “Your wife and son. You lost them, didn’t you?”

Hesitantly, the man nodded. “They were taken from me, just as she was taken from you. In the night while I was away.”

“You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt her. It won’t bring them back.”

“Oh, but I do. When I sent my case to the BAU, you turned it down. It wasn’t a serial killer or a professional hit. Just a burglary gone wrong. I was at work when it happened, out late on the job. I wanted to join the FBI, you know? I was a recruit.”

The more he explained, the more Spencer began to understand. The unsub’s connection to the BAU, and the resentment he held for them. The loss of his family had driven him to his breaking point and he blamed them for not finding the killer.

Why had he taken y/n? Well, it wasn’t because she was a newer member of the BAU or because she was less experienced than the others but because somehow he knew. He knew how Spencer felt about her and he wanted to show a member of the BAU the same pain he felt when he lost his family.

“Please, just put the knife down. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

The unsub held the knife tighter than before, raising it to her neck. “Oh, but it does. I want you to do it. I want you to reunite me with them. Send me to them, please. If you refuse, I’ll take her from you just as they were taken from me.”

Reid shook his head, refusing to play his twisted game any longer. “Put the knife down.”

“I hoped it could have been different.”

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the unsub lifted his arm, angling the knife back onto her abdomen as he swung it down.

“No!”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Garcia, you’re sure he’s here?”

The technical analyst hummed over the line. “Positive.”

“I see his car,” JJ announced as she climbed out of the SUV, already rushing toward the house.

The team approached the building with caution, not wanting to rush in and startle the unsub into doing anything rash. They knew Reid was inside but they didn’t want to put him in any more danger.

Only, before they even reached the front door, they heard a gunshot and all caution flew to the wind as Morgan kicked down the door and burst inside.

They cleared each room before reaching the entrance to the basement and, upon hearing footsteps approaching, all guns were aimed at the door. They stood their ground, ready for whatever they were to face but when the door finally opened, all anyone could do was breathe a sigh of relief.

“Reid!” Morgan was by his side the moment he stepped through the door with her in his arms.

Hotch saw the spattering of blood that stained her clothes and looked into his eye. With just an exchanged glance, he knew what had transpired.

The unsub was dead. It was finally over.

Despite Morgan’s offer for help, Spencer carried her all the way outside to the paramedics. He stayed with her still as they lifted her into the ambulance. She was out of it, barely aware of what was going on.

“Go with them, we’ll meet you there.”

Reid offered a subtle nod to his unit chief, thankful that he was allowing him to accompany her to the hospital.

𓆩♡𓆪

Quiet beeps echoed through the room, the sound of the monitor that continued to track the beats of her heart.

Reid sat waiting, hands fidgeting as he bounced his leg.

“The doctor said she’s going to be fine, relax a little,” Morgan comforted with a gentle hand on Reid’s shoulder.

The youngest glanced up at his friend before his eyes flickered back over to her. “I can’t relax. Not until she wakes up. Not until I know she’s okay.”

From the moment the doctor had told them it was okay to wait with her in her room, Spencer had been by her side. The time he had spent in the waiting room before was agonising and he had felt relief when the doctor told them she just needed time to recover. Still, he couldn’t help but worry about her, not when he had been through something similar before. Kidnapped, tortured, and drugged.

He was thankful this unsub had seemed to skip the torture but he could still sympathise with how she was feeling. She had been taken from her own home. He could only imagine how scared she must have been.

When she finally began to stir and her eyes finally fluttered awake, he was on his feet again. “Y/n? How are you feeling?”

Morgan chuckled, “Come on kid, give her a second to wake up before you jump her with questions.”

Spencer was already holding her hand, his thumb rubbing gently across the back of it as he smiled.

“Spence?”

He nodded as she slowly came to, squeezing her hand a little just to make sure she knew he was really there — that she was safe now.

“I’ll go let the others know she’s awake,” Morgan excused himself, leaving the two of them to talk alone.

“What… What happened?”

He gulped and stuttered slightly as he answered, “Y-you were kidnapped.”

She closed her eyes again and nodded, recalling the events that had transpired as well as she could remember them. “You saved me. Thank you.”

With a small smile, he nodded.

It was quiet for a moment and all she could focus on was the warmth of his hand. Soon, he too realised he was still holding her hand and quickly let go as he cleared his throat to speak.

“So, how are you feeling?” he repeated his earlier words, eager to hear how she was holding up.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? Like shit. My head is killing and I think I might still be a little high.”

Spencer was now the one laughing at her remark, thankful that she was well enough to make light of the situation. “Yeah, that’s probably the painkillers the doctor gave you. Must be a pretty bad concussion if your head is still hurting.”

“Yeah, well it could have been a lot worse…”

The mood soured again with her words as the two of them were reminded of just how badly things could have gone had Reid not found her when he did.

“I knew it was going to be okay, you know. When I saw you I just… I knew I was safe.”

Though she smiled, it was her eyes that conveyed all he needed to know. Everything she’d never spoken aloud, everything she wanted to say but could never bring herself to do so. It was the first time he’d truly felt it, the way she felt for him. The first time he’d realised that she cared about him as much as he cared about her.

A test of faith had brought them together, breaking the boundary between them.

Spencer stepped closer again, leaning towards her as he took her hand in his again. With his other, he brushed her hair from her face, fingers lingering on her skin as time froze still.

Their quiet moment together would soon be broken when the door opened and the rest of the team flooded in to see how she was but, for just one moment, they were the only two people in the world.

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[reidsdimples]

Strictly Professional | Part 4

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

You go see Spencer in his hotel room after a case is wrapped up.

Part 1, 2, 3

“You’re staring,” JJ says, startling you.

“Wha-“ you say absentmindedly.

She nods towards Spence who is leaning against one of the black SUV’s talking to Rossi.

His legs are crossed at the ankles, his sleeves rolled up, and his hands are shoved into his pockets. The streetlights above his cast his features in stark shadows. It was… distracting to say the least.

“It’s the pants right? They’re more form fitting,” JJ laughs. You turn to her with your mouth agape.

“I wasn’t…”

“Come on, you’d have to be blind not to see how good he looks,” she nudges you.

“Aren’t you married?” You ask playfully,

“Married, not blind,” she winks.

You smile and roll your eyes.

“Yeah it’s definitely the pants,” you surrender.

“So make a move,” she says and hands you a piece of gum.

You’re all waiting around for Hotch and Prentiss to call you into the house a block down which they are staking out.

“No way, we’re coworkers,” you make an effort to sound appalled and hope she doesn’t pick up on the insincerity.

“Oh please, it wouldn’t be the first time romance struck the BAU,” she says. You give her a blank and confused stare. “Kevin and Penelope?”

“Oh right, but they work in different units,” you point out. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not interested in him like that,” you decide to shut the conversation down.

“What are we talking about?” Morgan hops in.

“Nothing,” you and JJ say in unison.

“Damn, okay,” he laughs and holds up his hands feigning innocence.

“He’s got the girl, we’re going in,” Hotch comes over the ear pieces. You all jump into one of the SUVs.

Morgan drives and Rossi takes the front seat.

You, JJ, and Spencer cram into the back in a hurry. You slam into Spence when you stumble over the middle console, your face colliding with his chest. JJ is shoving herself into the space next to you.

“Sorry,” you push yourself off of him and sit up. He lets out a soft laugh.

Your bulky vests make the whole thing awkward as the car speeds towards the unsubs house.

You’re in the middle, pressed into Spence who is looking everywhere but towards you. You inhale his familiar scent and your body comes to attention. It recognizes him, craves him. You adjust to pull your arm out from between the two of you and he lifts his arm to help. He props it on the head rest behind you but doesn’t touch you. He’s close enough that the heat and electricity starts buzzing between you. He clears his throat and you swear he’s adjusting himself by shifting his legs. You nearly smirk because you have the same effect on him.

The car stops abruptly and you’re all piling out of it. You get back on your A-game and pull your gun from the holster.

Somewhere in the house you hear Rossi reasoning with the man who comes into view.

The 10 year old little girl is trembling under his knife, her face streaked with tears.

“Hey Kelly,” Spencer begins quietly. You glance it him, unsure what he’s doing. The unsub seems put off too.

“Can you tell me how you feel, tell him how what he’s doing is hurting you,” he says gently. His gun is holstered.

The unsub had taken the little girl after his own daughter was murdered. He was trying to create a new life with a new child to fill a void. He didn’t profile as someone who would hurt the child.

“I don’t like it, it’s scary,” the girl cries.

“It’s going to be okay Kelly, we’re going to get you out of here,” Spencer says softly. She nods and sniffles.

“Lionel you hear that? You don’t want to hurt her the way they hurt Maya do you?” Rossi reasons.

“I want my daddy,” she cries again. Her small frame rattling with fear.

Lionel is looking frantically around the room, trying to find a way out.

“There’s no way out, you need to let her go. We can help you,” you say, keeping your gun centered on him.

“No one can help me!” He bellows angrily, causing Kelly to whine.

“Maya wouldn’t want this. You know you can’t replace her,” Spencer says.

That seems to break something in the man who drops his arm in defeat.

The girl sprints towards your team, immediately latching onto Spencer who allows her to grab his arm. She looks back at you with big teary eyes.

“You’re safe now,” you whisper to her.

The man is on his knees and the gun is kicked aside while Prentiss makes the arrest.

You and JJ walk with Spencer and the little girl outside where CPS will work out getting her home.

Cases didn’t always have happy endings but this was as close as it got. The mad had killed two other girls who didn’t fit his delusion but your team was able to save Kelly and stop him. It felt good.

“Good job in there,” you tell Spencer and offer him a fist bump.

“Thanks,” he reluctantly returns the odd gesture with a shy grin.

-

The team returns to the hotel and you’re so tired you can hardly think straight. The weight of the last week and a half finally starting to dissolve with the cases conclusion.

Once again you’ve had radio silence from Spence outside of professional interaction. Two weeks had passed since Penelope caught you red handed and you expected never to hear from him again.

You sigh and pour yourself a glass of red wine as you sink into the bathtub. You convince yourself it’s fine that he hadn’t made a move, you were fine with not having him. It’s fine.

But then time passes and you’re half a bottle of wine in, your mind wondering to the way those damn pants hugged his hips. The way it accentuated his ass and his long legs. You’re biting your lip when your hand drifts down into the water and over your clit.

Images of him with his vest on, his gun raised, his mouth moving as he talked had you squirming.

Then you remembered how good he always felt inside of you. How you’ve never cum so hard as when he fucked you. Ugh.

You become frustrated and stop rubbing yourself.

Fuck it.

You throw back another half glass of wine and pull on your pajamas. His room was three doors away. You would just march over there and antagonize him. Screw waiting for him to make a move. You were sick and tired of waiting for him to need you. It was your turn.

You knock lightly on his door so as not to alert the rest of the team in the other rooms. It takes a moment but he opens it after looking through the peephole.

“Hey,” he rubs his eyes.

He had been asleep, his hair tousled. He was wearing nothing but pajama pants and your eyes couldn’t help but trail to his stomach.

You place your hand on his chest and push him backwards as you step inside. Your eyes pinned on his. He immediately acquiesces to your command, especially when you push him against the wall and kiss him hard.

It’s clumsy, unpracticed. But you don’t care, you need him. His soft mouth melts and moves against yours until his hands trail up the small of your back.

“We really shouldn’t keep doing this,” he whispers but kisses you again.

“It’s so bad,” you agree.

It was bad, your addiction to one another.

“Mhmm,” he moans drunkenly as though intoxicated by you.

He lifts you up so your legs wrap around his waist, you slam your hand against the wall as you kiss him harder. Your tongues sliding together in teasingly slow motions. God he tasted so fucking good, you could devour him for an eternity.

You roll your hips against him where his erection is pressing into you and a sinful groan escapes him.

“You looked so fucking good today,” he praises as he carries you towards the bed. You’re licking and sucking at his neck, needing to taste him.

“You did too” you purr when he lays you flat on your back.

“How much did you drink?” He asks thoughtfully as he stands above you, taking you in.

“Just a couple of glasses of wine,” you wave your hand dismissively. You move your feet up his chest until they’re resting on his shoulders.

He abruptly grabs your ankles and drops your legs from him before walking out of view. You sit up, confused.

The he takes a seat in the chair behind the desk on the other side of the room. The desk has been covered in books and paperwork in the 10 days he’s occupied the room. It was so him that you grin.

“You came here because you wanted me,” he muses as he lifts his hips to pull down his pants. “Show me how bad you want me, pretty girl.”

He lounges back in the chair, his cock just out and ready for you. You bite your lip nervously but move over to him. He rolls the chair backward from the desk to ensure there’s plenty of room. He looks glorious bathed in the moonlight from the window.

You step out of your pajama shorts in straddle him, taking his face in your hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he pushes.

“I think I want you like this all of the time,” you whisper as you grind your wetness against his length.

He grips your hips as you begin to align yourself with the tip of his cock. You lower yourself down and he tries to slow you by digging his nails into your skin. He sucks air through his teeth and throws his head back as you take him completely.

“So tight,” he shudders. Then you rock your hips forward, your clit against him as his cock throbs inside of you.

You continue to roll your hips, keeping him as deep as possible as you find the exact rhythm you need.

You begin to move up and down his length and he groans when your grip his hair.

“Use me, make yourself cum,” he whimpers.

It’s a softer, needier side of him that you hadn’t seen before but you love it. So you do just that. You begin riding him and grinding down on him. Not caring necessarily about what feels good to him but about what feels good to you.

One of your hands trails down the column of his neck and you gently squeeze. His hands find your nipples and he squeezes them hard as he fights to keep quiet.

He’s a mess of groans and whimpers. You throw yourself forward and bite down on his shoulder as you fall into a desperate grind against him as you chase your orgasm.

You moan against his skin as you climax, your walls tightening around his cock in a way that has him squirming beneath you, one hand pulling at your hair while the other digs into your thigh.

“Fuck Spence,” you whisper and roll your head back.

You can feel your cum all over him and it feels so good as you continue to rock your hips back and forth.

“Hold on,” he says, his voice husky.

You do, you prop your hands on the chair behind him as he lifts your hips so you’re halfway up his length.

Then he starts thrusting up into you fast and hard until you’re biting your tongue to stifle your moans.

You have a hard time holding yourself up as he thrusts mercilessly into you, the sound of wet flesh slapping together filling the room. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold on as he pulls you closer. He doesn’t let up, his stamina unmatched as he pounds into you harder.

Your eyes roll back as you attempt to absorb the pleasure beating through you. He buries his head between your tits, his jagged breathing fanning against your skin. The two of you are absolutely lost in each other, unable to get enough. You’re moaning softly, trying to stay quiet when his nails dig into your back.

The sensation is enough to send you over the edge again.

“Baby, fuck baby,” he bites out as you orgasm over him again. He’d never called you that, it’s heady, it makes you smile.

His rhythm slows as you pull him to his climax until he’s cumming inside of you. You roll your hips down on him as he pumps his cum into you, knowing how good it must feel to be as deep as possible while he finished.

“Fuuuck,” he shudders.

His eyes are wide and his mouth is open as he watches you roll your hips the last few times, greedily taking all his cum.

Your eyes linger on each other as the moment softens. You lean in and kiss him, delighted when he kisses you back. It’s more passionate, less needy.

You pull away, not wanting to get lost in the labeling or feeling behind anything. You get off of him and hurry to the restroom where you start the shower. The mixture of both of your releases is running down your thighs and you need to focus on cleaning up rather than whatever you’re feeling.

Something like sadness washes over you, sadness that this can’t be more, that it isn’t more because he doesn’t want it to be.

You’re washing your hair when Spencer steps into the shower.

“Oh,” you startle.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod, taking in his beautiful body as you pull him under the water.

You turn away from him and wash your face. That’s when he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you flush against him. You stare down at his forearms overlapping across your stomach. He fits against you so perfectly as you lean back into him. He sways gently but doesn’t speak. The intimacy of just holding you seems to be what he needs, it’s not a side of him you’ve seen very much.

“You want me like this always too?” He whispers.

It takes you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice. It’s as though he’s searching for some clue that he means more to you than you let on.

You turn in his arms and reach up to smooth back his wet curls.

“What if I do?” Your voice is hoarse.

“I don’t know how this can be more,” he shakes his head.

You got it, you understood how much it would complicate things. When emotions and favoritism came into play amongst coworkers it could be distracting.

“What do you want Spence?” You decide to be brave and ask him.

Your bodies are pressed together, the warm water trailing between you.

“I want…” he looks at you with what can only be described as puppy dog eyes. Some mixture of fear and sadness painting his beautiful features.

“Reid,” comes Hotch’s voice with a swift knock on the door.

He jumps back, his eyes wide.

“Shit,” you whisper.

Spencer rushes out of the shower as panic consumes you. Why would Hotch need to talk to Spencer at one in the morning!?

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

What about something to do with reader previously fighting back against/killing an abusive parent and a case comes up with the bau which brings it all to life..?

Hiya, hope this is okay! I didn't go into too many sad emotions lol, but hopefully this is okay :)

Description: reader gets dragged back to his hometome, but reunites with his younger brother.

Warnings: child abuse, abuse, murder, alcohol mentions, assault, previous arrests, custody battles, death of a parent

“This week’s case my fine furry friends, you are all heading to Oregon. The homeland of the one and only (Y/N).” Penelope said, pointing the bippy at you. You give a small smile, not having the heart to tell her you were hoping to keep that particular cat in the bag. “So this unsub is targeting unsavory individuals, first, this man. Robert Davis, 42, father of three. Total slime ball, an abusive drunk who is particularly fond of driving under the influence.”

You all looked at the photos now on the board. “Now, up next, same thing. Derek Harris. Father, this time 53, abusive, drinks on occasion.”

“Okay, so he’s got a type.”

“How long between victims?”

“Only four days.”

“How long does he keep them alive?”

“Only a few hours, before he dumps them on the door of their house.”

“He dumps the bodies at their house?” You asked, frowning.

“Why?”

“It’s like a gift.” You theorised, “I know what he was doing so I took revenge for you.”

“Some gift.” Prentiss said, turning back to the file.

Not long after, you were all on the jet on your way to Oregon. The briefing didn’t take long, just a few rough ideas exchanged and Morgan asking if you were excited to go home, you were not. 

“Hotchner.” Hotch answered the phone before the end of the second ring. “You’re sure? Okay. We’ll make sure to send some agents there when we land. It’s alright, I’ll let him know. Thank you.” And with that, Hotch hung up again.

The air was a little tense, to say the least. “Another body turned up?” Rossi asked. Hotch just gave a nod.

“Already?” Reid’s eyebrows furrowed. You watched your boss closely for a few seconds.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Is all you ask.

“Yes.” Is his response. “The ME just identified him.”

“Who found him?”

“(Y/N)…”

“Hotch, who found him?”

“Your brother.”

You sighed, looking away. “He okay?”

“He’s alright. Paramedics checked him over, he’s at the station waiting for us to land.”

You give a small nod. “He’s okay?”

“He’s okay.” Hotch said, voice a little more gentle now. The team watched you cautiously, all concerned.

“Who was the latest victim?” Reid asked, frowning slightly.

“Er, Lee (L/N).”

“(L/N)?” Morgan asked, turning to face you.

“My dad.” You gave a small nod. 

“Which means we’re going to have to dive into your life,” Hotch explained, his face was his usual stern expression, but you could see the understanding in his eyes.

“I know.” You gave a small sigh. “I was arrested for assault when I was eighteen - I just broke his nose. No charges were pressed or anything.”

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“Er, I saw him hit my brother.” You gave a small nod. “And he didn’t press charges on the condition I moved out. So, I moved out. I tried fighting for custody but with that arrest, the courts weren’t having it.”

“They wouldn’t let you have custody?”

“Nope, not even with our medical records.” You gave an awkward shrug, “I tried multiple times, Declan ended up in the hospital once or twice. I lived in a small town, and everyone just… turned a blind eye to it.”

“That’s horrible…” JJ said. “They turned a blind eye? Just like that?”

“Yep. And then after the second custody battle and I was doing a food shop and I saw my dad hit Declan again. That time, I landed my dad in hospital.”

You were silent for the rest of the ride, preferring to sit inside your own head than interact with the outside world.

As soon as the jet landed, you, Spencer, and Hotch headed to the police station, the others dividing themselves between the different crime scenes. You follow the secretary’s vague motion to a room at the back of the station. It takes you thirty seconds after to realise she was in your grade in school. You purposefully ignored that and gave the door a light knock before opening the door. 

“Declan…” You had prepared for the worst. You were expecting him to hate you, you had left the day you turned eighteen. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a voluntary leave, but you still left.

“(Y/N),” Declan looks up, smiling a little when he sees you. His eyes are bloodshot.

“Hey.” You said softly, "How are you feeling?"

Declan gives a small shrug and you give a quiet sigh, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Come here," You said, opening your arms. He stares at you for a moment before letting himself lean against you.

You wait until you've both calmed down before speaking again. “We need to talk, kid…”

“I know.” Declan gave a small tight lipped smile. You sit down next to him, sighing slightly as you did. “They don’t think you’re involved, do they?”

“Nah, I’ve got an alibi I cleared with my boss.”

Declan nods, “Good. So I’m assuming your team know?”

“Yep.” You sighed, turning to face him. “Look, Declan-”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“Yes, I do. I left.”

The teen rolled his eyes, “You’re actually thick. You didn’t leave, dad basically kicked you out.”

“I should have fought to stay.” You argued.

“Yeah, and he would have killed you.” He said. “Besides, I was fine.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah. Most of the time dad was too caught up in his drinking to care.” Declan gave a small shrug. “So… what’s going to happen to me?”

“Well, if you want, I’ve got a spare room that I could let you have. I suppose.” You said, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah, I guess. If I had too.” Declan grinned slightly. 

“Sounds good.” You gave a nod, “We can sort everything else out later. And, if you want - since our house is sort of a crime scene, you can bunk in my hotel room.”

“Perfect, free hotel room.” Declan smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “I gotta go talk to my team, you okay in here?”

“Yes, old man. I’m fine.” 

You placed a hand on your chest dramatically as you left. 

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” You said, giving your boss a small smile. “As well as it can be right now, anyway.”

“He seems resilient.”

“He is.” You gave a small nod. “You don’t mind if I stay for a while after the case to sort everything up here out, do you?”

Hotch shook his head, “Not at all. Take all the time you need.”

[d33pd3sire-blog]

The Air That I Breathe

Idk how to write reader fanfics without a million 'you' words so you're just gonna have to ignore that haha.

Emily Prentiss x F!Reader

Summary: You get caught following an unsub. You believe you are going to die so you make a confession to Reid.

Might make this a two or three parter, depending on if it’s what the people want haha.

TW: Fire, explosions, smoke, coughing, suffocation.

Word count: 1321

Any constructive criticism is welcomed! Be kind about it tho lol.

The team had to split up. There were two abandoned buildings in the area which suited the unsubs needs and you, Prentiss, Morgan and Reid were on your way to one of them. Hotch, Rossi, Tara and JJ were on their way to the other. As you were pulling up to the building, the unsub could be seen on the roof, a child in his arms and a gun pointed to their head. 'I wondered when id be seeing you!' He exclaimed. Prentiss unholstered her gun and pointed up at him. 'Let her go! We can sort this out without getting her involved.' Emily called, trying to find a way in. 'No. You know what, I think ill have some fun with her first.' The unsub walked away, his haunting laugh echoing through the carpark.

Morgan and Reid's SUV pulls up, both of them jumping out immediately. 'Whats going on?' Morgan looked to both of you with worry. 'The unsub has a child hostage, we need to get in there.' You respond. The anxiety in your voice does not go unnoticed, Morgan replies, 'Its gonna be okay, you call Hotch and tell him to make their way here. Ill call Penelope, see if she can find out how many exits there are on the floor plan.' You nod, pulling out your phone.

As soon as you finish filling in Hotch, Morgan comes back with a plan. 'Right guys, there are two exits. One to the left, and one to the right. Prentiss and I will take the left, you guys take the right. Remember to stick together. The others should be here soon to help.' You turn to Reid, giving him a 'we can do this' look. He returns it, unholstering his gun and turning towards the double doors. 'Come on, i'll head in first. You cover me.' You turn back to look at Emily, her dark ponytail swishing as she walks. 'Please be okay', you think. You don't know what you would do if she got hurt. Same goes for Morgan of course, but he's not the one you've been in love with since you joined the BAU. You shook your head, getting ready for what you might face and follow Reid into the building.

The both of you are silent, the only noise filling up the space is the sound of your footsteps. The corridor seems to go on forever, twisting and turning like a- BOOM. You and Reid are thrusted back, both of you knocked into a daze, confusion waving over both of you. A few seconds later your eyes open. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, as if you're not fully in your body. The ringing in your ears seems to be the only thing keeping you lucid. You slowly blink your eyes, realising Reid is standing over you mouthing something. As everything finally catches up to you, you take a sharp inhale. You can tell Reid is relieved by this by his facial expressions. A few seconds go by and the ringing starts to subside, you can finally hear Reid repeat 'you're okay, you're okay, its going to be okay.''

'What happened?' you mutter, slowly pushing yourself up onto your feet. 'An explosion. I believe the unsub set us up. He has a past with arson, we should have seen it coming.' Reid rambled, you can tell he hasn't quite come to terms with it either. 'Lets get back to the doors, can you walk?' you ask. He nods, wrapping his arm in yours incase either of you lose balance. As youre both stumbling towards the exit, you both notice smoke starting to fill the space around you. You both look at each other with fear, knowing the dangers of smoke inhalation. As you reach the doors, you both push the the handle down. Nothing. you try again. And again. And again. Your breath starting to quicken, the smoke building up, making it more and more difficult to breath. 'Reid?' You spoke. He can hear the fear in your voice, he feels it too. 'I know.'

After a few minutes of desperate attempts to open the door, you both give up. 'If we can't get out this way, lets go deeper.' Reid sputters. 'Are you insane??' The idea just spoken, had you standing in disbelief. 'Are you mad Reid?' 'No! I mean, maybe. The smoke inhalation can't be doing good things to my brain.' He jokes. 'But seriously, what if we find a window? We could smash it and get out. Here we're just sitting ducks waiting for the smoke to take over.' The idea plays in your mind for a few seconds as you turn back to the door. He's right. We can't just stand here waiting for people who may never come. Emily and Derek could be dead for all we know. Hotch and the others could take too long to get to us and we'd have suffocated. You turn to Reid and give him a reluctant nod. He takes you in his arms, guiding you to the floor. 'We have to stay low, smoke rises.' He coughs, you must admit the air is far easier to breath down here. You both slowly shuffle farther and farther down into the building.

A few minutes in and both of you are coughing regularly, neither of you mentioning the possibilities of what we could or could not find. We both start to feel the corridor get warmer and warmer as we approach a room on the right. We both stand, our hearts in our throat as we hope for a way out. As soon as we look in, our hope is crushed. Flames envelope the room, almost impossible to see anything in there. the heat and smoke hitting our faces, causing us to cough. Reid grabs your arm and we start to run past it. Maybe there's another room further down.

You both quickly approach a set of double doors, both of you holding your breath until you reach the doors. The sound of Reid pushing on the bar to open it and. Locked. Shit. 'No no no NO NO.' Reid yells, using all of his body weight to kick, punch, push the door down. A laugh starts to echo through the passage. Reid turns to look at you, out of breath. 'Whats so funny?' You then realise the laughing is coming from you. Why are you laughing? You force yourself to stop, the seriousness settling in your stomach. Shit. You both stand in silence for a moment. 'Shall we try heading back? Maybe Hotch is here now.' Reids head is in hands, he's trying to soothe himself. 'Reid.' He looks up, and nods at you. You take his hand, ready to walk back when a loud bang is heard down the hall. Followed by bright flames, both of you could feel the heat radiating from it. Tears start to flow down your face as all hope drains from you both. You both fall back onto the double doors, sitting on the floor. The idea of both of you dying now becomes a reality. We are going to die. You sigh and put your head onto your legs. 'I love her' you scoff out. 'Love who?' Reid asks. 'Emily. Always have.' Tears continue to flow. Reid pauses for a moment. 'It all makes sense now. You light up around her. I just thought.. I don't know what I thought but it makes sense.' Reid pulls you into him, both of you leaning on each other. 'Its ironic isn't it?' You say. 'Hmm?' He mumbles. 'Im gasping for air yet its Emily I want most. She's the air that I breath, I can't live without her.' You close your eyes as Reid puts his arm over you. The next few minutes you both spend thinking of those you love, while sinking deeper and deeper into darkness.

[enid-rhees]

new girl || emily prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you’re the new girl in the BAU, Emily takes interest

warnings: sexual tension, a tiny bit suggestive

A/N: my first Emily fic ^_^ hope you all enjoy 🖤

your hands were sweating on either side of your dress pant-covered-legs. the elevator ride felt way longer than normal, and every little thing was throwing you off guard.

you’ve been in this field for years, but never worked with the people who would now be in your life. you know who they were though, everyone did. they were always on the news at some point, explaining the next gruesome murder they have to solve. you were now apart of that.

a ding rang throughout the elevator and it came to a sudden stop, causing your heart to do the same as the doors slid open. the office was just only a few steps away, but you felt stuck to the ground. your body acted quickly and you stepped out before the doors could close on you.

you opened the doors, and your boss, Aaron Hotchner was the first to walk over to you. you stopped in your place and swallowed the knot in your throat. his straight, emotionless expression was enough to make you feel more nervous than you already were.

he held his hand out, “you’re here early, good. you need to meet the rest of the team.” you shook his hand and he quickly put his back by his side, you did the same after him. you followed behind him like a lost puppy until you were standing in front of everyone. they had all stopped talking when they noticed you and Hotch opened his mouth.

“everyone, this is F/N L/N. she’s our newest profiler.” Hotch announced. “she was originally in New York, and she was the best in her field. so i expect you all to treat her the same way you treat each other.” he said flatly, eyes monitoring everyone.

a blonde girl — Jennifer Jareau — stood up and held her hand out. “i’ve seen what you’ve done for New York, and i’ve seen some of your work. it’s seriously a pleasure to be working alongside you now.” she smiled. you couldn’t help but smile back and shake her hand. “thank you. that’s- that’s really sweet of you, miss-“

“you can just call me JJ.” she smiled. you nodded. “thank you, JJ.”

it took almost an hour to properly meet everyone. Morgan was brief, but you were able to figure him out in your short conversation. Penelope Garcia, she had seemed eager to meet you; eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy shop. you weren’t too sure on how Rossi felt about you, but he was nice.

Spencer had talked your ear off, but you enjoyed it. much more than the others had seemed to. you liked that his head was practically an encyclopedia on everything, you could learn a lot from him just from spending an hour with him.

“and it’s… Doctor Spencer Reid, correct?” you asked, and Spencer nodded proudly. “yeah! i actually have two PhD’s and-“ the office door flew open,

“i’m so sorry i’m late. Sergio had made an absolute mess in the apartment and he just held me up completely- oh!”

you locked eyes with the beautiful brown eyed girl in front of you, and this time, you swore your heart actually stopped beating for a moment. Emily Prentiss.

in a totally-not-weird way, you’ve always been fascinated with profiler Emily Prentiss. you’ve seen her when the BAU would televise their profiles for everyone to be aware of the freak in their city.

“who’s this?” Emily smiled, setting down the case she was holding. “Special Agent F/N L/N. she used to be a profiler back in New York. but she got transferred here. she was the best in her field.” Spencer spoke before you could introduce yourself. her eyebrows raised as she held her hand out.

“well, nice to meet you then. i’m Em-“

“Emily Prentiss.” you breathed out. Spencer turned to you with furrowed eyebrows, and Emily looked taken aback at the fact that you knew who she was. “i’m sorry.” you said quickly. “i just- i’m very familiar with all of you, but i’ve always been fascinated with your work, Emily. and i can’t tell you how much of an honor it is to be working with you now.”

she smiled again. “i didn’t realize i had anyone who looked up to me. especially someone who…” Emily took her time to look you up and down. she smirked. “top in your field, yeah?” you swallowed, “y-yeah.”

Emily bit her lip as she held back her smile from growing wider. “cute.” she mumbled. before you could say anything, Hotch came bursting out of his office. “we have a case.”

Emily hummed, “time to see what made you top in your field, hm?”

“wheels up in 30. do what you need to do before we leave.” Hotch stated, taking what he needed before leaving the room. everyone else had left, while you continued to look through the pictures provided. it was truly gruesome, but after nearly 15 years of this, you were numb to almost everything that came your way.

it was a murder — obviously. but the patterns that were left were nothing you’ve seen before. each victim was sliced and stabbed in a specific way. three times in the stomach, one on each wrist, and a slice going across their necks.

“still here?” a voice asked, breaking you out of your trance. Emily stood in the door way, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. a nervous laugh left your lips. “yeah, i’m just… studying these pictures and their profiles.” you told her. “well, we’ll discuss it more on the plane. don’t study too hard.” she winked. your face burned and you looked down to hide it.

Emily walked over and sat down next to you. “you know i already have you figured out, right?” she asked, inching closer to you. your breath hitched. “you live alone, maybe with a pet. but that’s all. you keep to yourself. but, you’re confident in yourself. you know when you’re right and you stick to your opinions, and you don’t let anyone tear you down, wether they’re above you or not. you have a lot of pride and know how to keep yourself together, except for when i’m around.”

you froze under her gaze. you could feel your cheeks start to burn. “you’re… infatuated with me. clearly, you’ve known me for longer than i’ve known you, and i can see that you’ve always felt this way about me. you’re stiff in your seat, the same way you were when i walked through those doors. i’m driving you crazy just by sitting in front of you and making direct eye contact. but… you take your job seriously, and you’re afraid this will ruin what you just got.” Emily leaned in closer, looking down at your lips. “but you also would take any risk just to get a taste, wouldn’t you?”

you were genuinely speechless, not knowing how to physically react or what to say back. Emily had read you front to back with no hesitation, she didn’t second guess herself with anything she said. she had figured you out completely.

Emily smiled and briefly put her hand on your thigh. “time to go, sweetheart.” she winked, standing up and walking out of the room, leaving you flustered and shaking on the inside.

[icarryitin]

Comeback Kid

spencer reid/gn!reader

and if i’ve also come back from the dead (purely out of guilt for missing last week)??? what then??

series masterlist

word count: 1.2k // warnings: a few swear words i think, grief, discussions re emily’s ‘death’, it’s not specifically referenced but you could read reader’s reaction as a panic attack

summary - Turns out the dead do walk amongst the living, not that anyone thought to tell you.

You’re pretty sure you’re going to be sick. Which would be a shame, because these are new shoes. And they’re cute, even if they still pinch your toes a little, that and you’d rather not vomit in front of everyone else. Though, they all look just as green as you feel.

Emily Prentiss is dead.

You know this.

Because you collapsed when you saw them carrying her out of the warehouse, the fresh scars on your knees where they split open on the concrete prove it. Because she never came out of the hospital. Because you went to her funeral, to her wake. Because you barely held back your tears as you shook her mother’s hand, and stammered through an apology for her loss. Because the person you trust most in this world retreated so far into himself, so far away from you, that you spent weeks worrying he’d never come back. You’ve only just stopped having nightmares. Of warehouses, red and blue lights, Morgan’s bloodied hands. You’re still getting back into the swing of things - Spencer cracked his first smile in months only last week.

You know this. And yet, there she is. Standing in front of you as if no time has passed, as if you’re supposed to just forget all of that. Your eyes peel themselves away from Emily in the doorway to find Hotch, to search for any indication of how you’re supposed to react. Except he’s not shocked, he’s apprehensive. He knew - he fucking knew. There’s a rational part of your brain that isn’t surprised, there’s very little that happens on this earth that Aaron Hotchner isn’t privy to. But you don’t expect JJ to have the same nervous look on her face. JJ, the one who told you all that Emily hadn’t made it. Who looked her own team, her own family, in the face and lied to you. They both did; for safety, for security. Sure. It still hurts like hell.

Spencer’s hand tenses in the corner of your eye, knuckles white where he grips the back of the chair he stands behind. You’re afraid to look closer. To see him pull back again, from everyone this time, maybe for good. Your own hands shake where they wring themselves in front of you - that’s where you choose to focus your gaze. You don’t want to watch Penelope cry in Emily’s arms, you don’t want to see everybody else forgive and forget. You don’t want to look at her just yet.

You’re not ready.

But then there are warm hands around yours, and you can’t delay it any more. God, you want to stay mad. You want to be aloof and cold and stubborn - but she’s back, and isn’t that what you’ve wanted for the last however many months?

Emily’s grip on your clasped hands is so gentle it threatens to break your resolve. You’re holding strong, averting your eyes to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Breathe.”

That’s what gets you.

It’s not the first time Emily Prentiss has held your hands in hers and reminded you to take a breath - it drags you right back into a younger version of yourself, just as distraught, just as tense. Her calm, even tone shatters you the same way it did back then. She catches you the same way too, squeezes you so tightly it hurts. You’re not any lighter in your grip around her shoulders. The familiarity of it is painful, almost as painful as it is to watch Spencer take half a step back when she pulls away from you to approach him. Her disappointment at his rejection is clear on her face, although it disappears as quickly as it came - schooled into a tight-eyed smile instead. She’s not angry at him, you don’t think, she understands the hesitation.

It’s like an itch you can’t reach from the word go. Hyper-aware of every movement you make, every twitch from your teammates, every breath. The hammer will fall eventually, and the longer it takes the more mess it’ll make. It’s fairly easy, given the stakes, to skirt around Emily’s return for the time being - although it looms like a thundercloud. And then Ian Doyle is dead, and there’s no avoiding it anymore.

Spencer is the first one to leave the office, unsurprisingly. You’re next, only a minute later, the churning in your stomach far too strong to ignore. Now that there’s no case to distract you? Your anger is starting to build, it wouldn’t be fair to let everyone get swept up in the shockwave of it. The rational part of your brain knows that it was a necessary evil - that Hotch and JJ keeping this from you was for the safety of Emily and the team. The less rational part wants to throw a tantrum like a toddler. And if you don’t take the time to get yourself together, the toddler will win.

You’re sure Spencer had the same idea, when you exit the building to find him kicking stray pebbles back into the gravel surrounding the paving stones. So you don’t say anything as you pass, you leave him to his stewing. He doesn’t extend you the same courtesy.

“Where do you land on this?” His eyes are wide, earnest, he’s genuinely curious. He’s not looking for an argument or an excuse to rant about it all, he’s unsure.

“I feel sick,” You can’t be anything but honest, “I know why they did it, but I don’t have to like it.”

Spencer says nothing, just looks back at the pebbles on the ground.

“Neither do you.” You double down - he gives reassurance so freely, but so rarely asks for it himself. He’s allowed to feel whichever way he wants for however long he wants to feel it, you’re sure Emily would say the same. Though he only shrugs when you tell him so.

There’s not a lot anyone could say to dig him out of the hole he’s sinking back into, but you’re stubborn when it comes to your friends. Spencer, a little more so maybe than the others. He’d do it for you. The offer of pizza, via the library that stays open late, is enough to raise his head from the pebbles by his shoes.

A book, dinner, and absolutely no expectation of conversation. You’re not all that up to talking things over either, parallel dissociation in a public space might just be exactly what the doctor ordered. Pun half-intended. It doesn’t quite tug a smile out of him, though you’re not expecting it to. His careful footsteps on the pavement, just behind yours, are a comfort. He’s not pulling away like before.

Whether or not Spencer will ever address that is a different question - those weeks where he barely existed to himself, let alone anybody else. Much less you, who would have unraveled his careful shield of apathy with one look. It had been better, safer, to pull back entirely. He’d put it all on JJ, and she’d known the whole time. There’s a wave of fresh anger that crests in his chest when he remembers. The fury dulls the further you lead him away from the building, further into town, towards the safety of bookshelves and cheap Italian food. He wants to apologise for it all, but words fail him. They do more often than not when it comes to you, a superpower you seem to use for evil whether you know it or not. But tonight, he’ll take it. The silence. Because it’ll all be there in the morning, all the complicated feelings and confusion, he doesn’t have to say a single thing for the rest of the night if he doesn’t want to.

For now, he can rest with you.

i didn’t know how to wrap this one up and it SHOWS wow😬😬 i may or may not come back to revisit this…

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2| Part 3

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader

5.3k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Omg dun dun dunnn I wonder what's gonna happen. This chapter is pretty rough so please take care :( I hope you all enjoy tho! Thank you for reading so far!

This was his fault, Aaron Hotchner thought as soon as the line died. Right from the moment he had walked out of the bathroom his chest lurched horribly at the sight of the empty room and he scrambled to grab his phone to send you a text immediately, simultaneously sending one to the group chat as well.

Now he was already pulling his clothes back on as soon as you never acknowledged the messages, frantically struggling with his trousers to get them back up over slightly damp legs and calling you. For every second it rang out the sickening feeling in his stomach began to rise. No response, voicemail. A second call. No response. The team were preparing to gather downstairs as he fumbled with his remaining clothes, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacke-

No keys.

You'd taken the car keys from his jacket. He swore under his breath. Hotch swung the jacket over his arm and dashed out the hotel room, barely bothering with locking the door behind him. The stairs were quicker, making it to the foyer in mere seconds. He tried calling again, the line was busy. All hope that perhaps you were talking to one of the others fell through when Prentiss and JJ appeared, the raven haired woman holding her phone to her ear in a panic. She shook her head when they met eyes. No response for her either.

Hotch swallowed thickly as shortly behind the two women appeared Dave, Morgan and Reid.

“No sign of her at all?” Morgan was the first to speak, rushing over. It appeared he was wearing the same trousers, only likely having time to partially begin settling for the evening before he redressed in a new shirt to regroup. Hotch clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his anxiety bubble in his gut. His thumb grazed across his knuckles self-soothingly.

“She took the car keys from my jacket. We need Garcia to track the SUV (Y/n)’s in.” He spoke quickly, fumbling with his phone to dial your number again. “Someone call Garcia, please.”

The others shared a look when your first name tumbled from his mouth, but now wasn't the time to point it out to him. This was the first time anyone had heard him call you by your first name, something that none of them had heard him do before, but it would be a lie if they were to say they didn't think he had been struggling not to refer to you as such.

It was a common subject of discussion between the group; when would either of you finally crack and make a move on the other. Watching the two of you tiptoe around each other, Hotch trying to remain professional as though he wasn't on the brink of telling the world “fuck it” and confessing his feelings for you, while you were stuck in a limbo of longing for the man but understandably assuming the man wanted nothing more than a work relationship with you. The whole thing was becoming almost unbearable.

He had to keep trying to call you. He quickly dialled your number again. The attempt was fruitless. Hotch could feel his teeth gritting and his body trembling. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t forgive himself if something had. If only he had been nicer to you, more warm towards you, maybe things would have turned out differently-

“Aaron,” Dave appeared at his side and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Keep trying, but don’t lose yourself.”

The taller of the two of them closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling. With a slight nod, he dialled your number one more time.

This time, you answered.

“S-sir.” He heard your voice, but it was garbled, surrounded by loud people. His nostrils flared.

“Where the hell are you?!” he hissed frantically, all attempts to calm himself down enough to speak long gone. The eyes of his team were upon him in an instant.

“I…I needed to clear my head.”

Bullshit. His heart was pounding.

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that.” Hotch clenched his free hand into a tight fist at his side. “So I will ask you again, (L/n). Where are you?”

There was hesitation on the other end of the line and he felt the sense of anxiety spike, he could’ve been sick.

“I…” You hesitated. Something was deeply wrong. Mouth dry, Hotch attempted to clear his throat and prompt you to speak, only for you to beat him to it.

“I…I have to go.”

The line cut off, leaving the haunting tone of a dead line to ring in his ear. You were in danger.

“Hotch?” Prentiss queried. He slowly dropped his arm from holding the phone to his ear.

“She’s in danger.”

“What?”

The group stepped closer, the apprehension on their faces quickly paling to horror. Hotch swallowed dryly. His throat burned.

“It sounded as though she was in a bar or a nightclub. But it sounds like someone confronted her. I-” No, NO. Not again. He couldn’t go through another loss again. His eyes were stinging.

“Aaron. Look at me.”

Dave appeared in his line of sight again and Hotch drew in a shaky breath.

“This is my fault.” He mumbled. The older man shook his head.

“No, it really isn’t. But right now isn’t the time for this conversion, we have to find her and bring her back to safety, yes?”

Just as Hotch opened his mouth to speak, Morgan held his phone out for him to look at.

“Got the location of the vehicle she took. There’s a club about ten minutes from here by car.” He said.

“I’ll contact the police department and the SWAT. We’ll head out on your order.” Dave added, eyeing him. Hotch pocketed his phone. Time was ticking, he knew that. He squared his shoulders and held his head a little higher.

“We should head out, then. Be ready in no more than five minutes.”

Please, hang on a little longer for me, he thought to himself.

There was an immediate stench of viscera and death that invaded your nostrils when you regained consciousness and it forced a gag from your throat. The world was bleary, clearing up with every blink until you could make out cracked and dirty plaster on the walls surrounding you. The room was in disrepair, old stalls with rusting bars separating them lined the sides and slowly the realisation of what you were in began to creep up on you.

This was an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.

“Wh..” nausea lurched your stomach; you couldn’t be so sure if you were grateful for not having eaten or drank much of anything that day. Or was it yesterday? You scrunched your eyes shut.

There was a chuckle from just out of your viewing range.

“Aww, my little piggy is finally awake.” The same voice from before. You attempted to move your arms, only to realise handcrafted leather cuffs bound them either side of your head uncomfortably. You were strapped to a table of sorts, you didn’t want to think about who or what else had been on here before you. He chuckled again and you curled your hands into fists.

“Stop hiding.” You spat.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to make demands, piggy. But, I’ll humour you.”

Heavy footsteps rounded you from the right and the figure appeared before you. You fought to stop your eyes from widening.

Standing in front of you was a young white man, much as your profile had suggested, with a conventionally attractive face and dark blonde locks of hair pushed up to the right side. He was tall, maybe around 6’, and he wore a white sleeveless top underneath a grey-blue boiler suit- which he wore with the top half tied around his waist. It was the same colour as the boiler suits the employees of the handiwork shop wore. He looked… well, normal. And something about that enraged you more than when you encountered bastards like this on the regular. He snickered, your emotions having slipped on to your face. You needed to calm down, people like him revelled in the emotions their victims expressed.

The man stepped closer to you at the foot of the table and gripped onto the sleeves of his boiler suit to tighten the knot they were tied into.

“Like what you see, pig?”

You shrugged.

“Meh, not really.” You said casually. You didn’t enjoy the emotion that flickered in his pale eyes.

“Oh, I’m more than aware. We’ll get into that, but first,” He leaned to the side to grab something, a plastic poncho, and pulled it over his head. “I’m so rude for not introducing myself. My name is James, I really can’t wait to hear what it sounds like when you scream my name tonight.”

So it was night time, the same night perhaps. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

James raised a brow, but the smirk that etched his face remained.

“Why? Because I kidnapped a federal agent? I enjoy the thrill of it.” He retorted. “Besides, I don’t discriminate against someone’s profession. If you’re a disgusting fucking piggy then I’m gonna kill you either way. Hell, I’d be doing your unit a favour getting rid of a slob like you from it.”

He stepped closer and bent slightly to pull something up from the sides of the table, making you swallow. Stirrups. You reared back your legs futilely, ready to kick at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You warned. The man let out a laugh.

“If you kick me now, I’ll sever the tendons behind your knees.”

You froze, not resisting when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you towards him until your arms were straightened above your head. You made no noise, staring him down when he clamped your ankles into the stirrups. But as he attempted to spread your legs the fabric of your trousers pulled taut, digging into your large thighs and preventing your legs from parting to his liking. The man narrowed his eyes a little, then fumbled in his back pocket and produced a switchblade. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your eyes widened. In your head you could hear Hotch’s words; don’t show any fear. You were certain if he was here now he would be so disappointed in you.

James lowered the blade to the seam running along the crotch of you pants and you flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you stupid? I already told you, you have no say in the matter.” he jeered at you. Then he pressed the blade to the seam and pressed in enough to poke through, then sliced along it until he was able to rip a large hole in the fabric.

You scrunched your eyes tightly shut, feeling humiliated with your thighs and panties on full display to the disgusting man. He let out a chilling laugh.

“Aww, would you look at that. Wearing these cute lil frilly panties for your boss, huh?”

Wh-what? You felt your stomach lurch. How would he-

“Don’t look so surprised, I know about your feelings for your boss.” He said.

You pulled at the stirrups, to no avail with the modifications of more handmade leather cuffs being attached to them, until your ankles creaked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You felt nauseous from the look he gave you, his delight only more evident with every passing second.

“Oh? You wanna hear me say it? I know you yearn for that man, want him to fuck you real good, don’t you? It’s such a shame you’re fucking disgusting though.”

You needed to calm down, breathing deeply in through your nose and out of your mouth as best you could.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You’re a bad fucking liar, agent (L/n). You seriously think no one sees it? It’s pathetic really, you being desperately in love with your boss and craving even an ounce of praise from him.” He scoffed then, rounding the table to your right side, threatening to leave your eye line. “I bet you’ve been loving sharing a bed with him, haven’t you?”

The next intake of air lodged in your throat and you choked, chest rising and falling rapidly as you coughed and spluttered. He knew?! This whole time, every moment of this case, he had been watching, stalking. God, if he had seen you sharing a bed then that meant he had seen you curled up to Hotch every fucking night. But how? Your room was up a flight of stairs. Your eyes darted around the room, panic really beginning to sink in and James used the moment to pull over a trolley of various tools, each more stomach-churning than the one before it. And then you noticed it; a little red flashing light amidst the other objects. This… this was being recorded.

“Now, what should I use to loosen you up for me, hm?” He changed the subject casually, dragging his hands over his various tools. “Maybe a knife, cut your pussy open wide for me. Maybe force a bat or an ice pick up there.”

Your chest lurched, your body automatically pulling at your bindings. This couldn’t truly happen, right? In your mind his face appeared, those beautiful brown eyes. Oh… you’d really messed up big time, and you wouldn’t even be able to take responsibility for it. This would be nothing but hefty paperwork and a headache for Hotch to deal with. The thought made your throat tighten, burning and painful as you fought back the urge to cry. You wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction of seeing you cry, even if it wasn’t out of fear.

The glint of a large blade harshly returned you to reality and your eyes settled on the large, horrifying blade in James’ hand. He half-smirked, showing off the butcher’s knife to you.

“What do we think, hm? This one should do the job perfectly. After all, it’s used for slicing up animals like you.” He said with a voice full of utter glee. You glared back in retaliation, eyes shining in the dim light of the grimy room.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Something glinted in his eye, then before you knew it he slammed the blade down hard into your mid-thigh and there was nothing to stop the throat-tearing scream that forced its way out of you.

The SUV was still parked outside the club when the team arrived, kevlar vests on with the striking white ‘FBI’ letters spread across the chest area. Mutually, it was decided to go in and make it known why they were there, to ask around as rapidly as possible and send everyone home to safety. With a slight nod at each other, the team rushed in.

“FBI! Turn the lights on and switch that music off, now!” Morgan commanded loudly, earning a flurry of surprised gasps and hushed murmurs. The group spread through the room, eyes darting around as they searched the faces around them.

“I know this is very alarming, but we are in need of the whereabouts of two people who were here recently.” Hotch said in a clear, but stern voice. Two photographs were shown around the club, one with your face on it and the other the face of the suspected unsub, a sight that made him swallow thickly. This shouldn’t have ever been something they needed to do.

At first it was tensely quiet with no one moving, every second ticking by loudly in his head.

“Hotch.” JJ motioned behind him and he turned on his heel, now face to face with a young woman. She appeared nervous before him, avoiding eye contact and hesitating to approach. With a deep breath, Hotch forced himself to relax and soften his facial expression to a point where the woman felt comfortable enough to continue stepping forward.

“I… I saw them by the bar, she had a phone call when a guy approached her. He followed her outside.”

“Any discerning details about the man?” he encouraged. The woman tightly closed her eyes for a second as she tried remembering anything else.

“He was wearing a full body suit like- like Michael Myers or some shit, only it was a lighter greyish colour. Hard to tell under the dim lighting at the time though. He had curly blonde hair too like that picture." She spoke so quickly her words tripped over one another, but it was legible enough for Hotch to know instantly that it was their guy. But that meant…

“Did anyone see where they went when they went outside?” JJ said loudly, but there was no answer. No one knew where he had taken you.

Hotch felt his hands trembling a little and his heart pounded in his chest. Fuck, you must be terrified right now- if you were even alive at this point. He had no way of knowing. The group followed behind him as he abruptly rushed outside with Dave hot on his tail.

“Aaron-”

“We need to hurry. Get Garcia on the line to track where his van is.” He cut the older man off, turning to face the others.

“Already on it.” Morgan said, pressing his phone to his ear.

Hotch’s frown deepened.

“On loudspeaker.”

With a nod the dark-skinned man held his phone out and everyone could hear the shrill tone of the line ringing. It was only a couple of rings before Garcia answered.

“Any sign of her?” The usually peppy and witty voice of Garcia came through more serious and edged with worry, it made Hotch’s stomach turn. He cleared his throat.

“This is Hotch. We haven’t, but we know who took her. I need you to search for James Humphrey’s licence plate and track where the vehicle is now.”

There was clacking on the keyboard on Garcia’s end of the line, moments later she spoke again.

“I got the number plate. You’re looking for a FDK-845 licence plate. Um, let me see where it is currently…” Her voice trailed off and was followed by more clacks of her keyboard.

Then she gasped.

“Garcia?” Morgan called out.

“Oh god…”

“Where is the van now, Garcia?” Hotch questioned her in a less than patient way- something he regretted and filed away to apologise for later.

“I-I’m sorry. The location- it’s an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.” The colourful technical analyst barely managed above a whisper. Fuck.

“Send the address. We’re heading there now. Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch offhandedly pointed to JJ and spoke quickly. “Call for an ambulance, get them to come to the same address when you get it.”

“Of course.”

Without another moment, he rushed out and was already climbing back into the SUV he’d arrived in earlier to get going. The team, police and SWAT followed suit and moments later they were off, sirens blaring and flashes of blue and red painting the world around them in an alarming light show. Who knew if you were even alive now or not.

“Aaron, you need to calm yourself.” Dave said from the passenger seat. Hotch scoffed.

“I’m doing fi-”

“-You can lie to yourself about that all you want, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Aaron sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as they raced through the, thankfully, empty streets and began to make it to the outskirts of town.

“I feel as though I pushed her to feel responsible for what happened. I…” He swallowed thickly. “I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming towards her.”

“I know, we’ve all seen it. But we also know why you keep her at arm’s length.”

The younger of the two older men scoffed.

“Dave-”

“-Save your breath on denying it. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah… We- we should stay focused on finding her. Hopefully still alive.” Hotch mumbled. This time, Dave was the one to scoff.

“Of course she will be alive. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know. But you saw what this man did to the others.”

Dave said nothing more, turning his attention to the road ahead. It was quiet for a few minutes, that is until a building came into view. Hotch glanced at the man beside him.

“Tell everyone to turn off their lights and sirens. We don’t want to alert James to our presence.” He said.

The world fell silent and dark not too long after, and the foreboding silhouette of the slaughterhouse loomed larger and larger ahead of them, the pale moon falling behind the decaying structure. They came to a stop outside, quietly climbing out of their vehicles several yards away to lessen the chance of being heard from within the building. Ahead of them all was the van from the handiwork business with the same licence plate Garcia provided. It was quickly determined it was empty when two of the SWAT agents broke the locks of the back doors to the vehicle, finding nothing and thus the operation to head inside the facility began.

Then the most horrific shriek they’d all ever heard echoed out into the night from within the large building and it was as though time stopped altogether, along with Hotch’s heart.

That was you screaming.

“We need to go in now.” Hotch gritted, Everyone nodded, faces a mix of horrified and stony.

With their guns drawn, everyone followed their set out positions, stepping lightly as they entered from different areas of the building. Hotch rounded a corner, Morgan and the police chief tailing him along with some of the other officers. They paused, then rushed into the main room where the two figures were.

“FBI! James Humphrey, put your hands on your head where we can see them!” Hotch yelled, then the scene before him began to sink in. Your ashen face with tears streaking your cheeks, the position you were held in. Then the blood- so, so much blood. James twisted the blade that was sunk into your thigh and made you cry out again. He was grinning.

“Aww damn, you got me,” He said slowly, then turned his attention to the dark haired man without letting go of the knife. “But you have to admit, she looks so nice, all defenceless and covered in blood, don’t you think?”

Hotch stared him down, gun aimed at the blonde’s head with an unwavering stare.

“Shut up and put your hands on your head.”

James raised a brow, as though he had realised something.

“Oh! You’re the one, aren’t you?”

What? Hotch’s brow twitched. But before he could speak you strained at the buckles around your wrists.

“Shut the fuck uP!”

Your words, while full of venom and urgency, were also slurred. You were losing too much blood. James chuckled.

“Let’s open you wide for him, shall we? A nice little surprise for your loved one.”

Tightening his grip on the blade, he yanked it to the side and sliced your thigh open wider than before and caused you to scream in agony.

Hotch didn’t hesitate pulling the trigger. There was a loud bang, then the monster fell to the ground, a perfect hole between his cold eyes finishing him.

He shoved his gun into its holster with shaky hands, barely registering that the others were also in the room with him. He just needed to reach you. His stomach felt cold when he came to stand before you, your wrists and ankles red rimmed from pulling at the straps, but most of all your thigh was pulsing out blood. Crimson everywhere. Your eyes settled on him and they widened as you began to struggle.

“N-no! Don’t look at me!”

He moved fast, unfastening the buckles around your ankles and pressing his knee to your groin, applying as much as his body weight as he could to you. He hated the scream that tore through you.

“(L/n)! Please, keep your eyes on me. Stay with me. I’m going to remove my belt and try to use it to tie a tourniquet, okay?” he said as calmly as he could, maintaining the pressure on your pelvic bone. You screeched, trying to flail away from him. He could feel the bone beneath his knee creaking disturbingly. “(Y/n)!”

This made you pause, and you stared at him.

“S-sir- it h-hurts!”

God, his heart felt like it was splintering.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I need to try and keep the bleeding under control though, okay? Just until the EMTs come in. Will you let me?” He spoke softly to you, then glanced at Morgan, who had checked if the killer was confirmed to be dead. “Morgan, my keys are in my pocket. Grab my jacket from the car.”

“On it.” He said and rushed over to stuff his hand into Hotch’s pocket, fishing for the keys and sprinting out of the room. Keeping his eyes on you, Hotch noticed your own lazily trailing over his face as though you weren’t so aware he was truly in front of you right now.

“I… I always wanted you to like me, sir.”

No. He unbuckled his belt and, while wincing guiltily, he lifted your leg and wrapped the belt around your large thigh, causing you to let out another sound he would not soon forget.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But please save your energy, try not to talk.” He said, voice thick with tears. He turned his head left and right, eyes wide. “Where the hell are the EMTs?! Get them in here now!”

Absently, he was aware some of the others had rushed over to remove the buckles around your wrists, revealing how sore they were. You began to sob, chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

“Sir… I..”

“Shhh, please. (Y/n), I need you to focus on conserving your energy.” He said softly, but you shook your head, scrunching your eyes closed tightly.

“No! I need to- I need to tell you something, Aaron.” You shifted on the table, missing the startled expression on Hotch’s face at the sound of his name. You had never called him that before.

From the other end of the table Hotch could feel the eyes of his agents on him, but he couldn't stop looking at you, fixated on the pain in your eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, Morgan sprinted back into the room with Hotch’s jacket in his grasp and held it out.

“Hotch, here-” He said quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you. “Think the medics are near. Saw flashing lights coming down the road we took.”

Hotch took hold of his jacket and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry but this is gonna hurt.” He fumbled and pressed it into the wound site, causing your back to arch with a shriek. He felt as though he would vomit, knowing that despite him doing this to stop you from bleeding out he was causing you unimaginable pain. A stray tear dripped onto his tie and it was then he realised he was crying.

In his hands, he could already feel your blood soaking right through the stiff fibres of the jacket, so he pressed down even more firmly, trying not to falter when you choked out.

“A-Aaron…” You mumbled, voice weaker than before. He froze. Your eyelids drooped slightly as your lower lip wobbled. “I- you need to know something…”

“(Y/n), please-”

“I don't have much time! I'm so, so cold. Can't feel my legs,” You cut him off desperately. “Just- you need to know I-I’ve always liked you, maybe more than I should. I just… always think about you, maybe we could have been friends in another time.”

It was as though his lungs constricted in his chest and he heaved, gasping out a noise between a cry and whimper. Fuck, fuck! It should never have turned out this way. He wanted to reach out for you, to hold you, wipe those tears and reassure you it was okay and he liked you too. But then your eyelids drooped further, indicating you were about to pass out.

“(Y/n)? Hey, stay with us now!” Prentiss called out to you, shaking your arm slightly. But you didn't respond, staring straight forward. A deep coldness spread through Hotch’s core. No… no, no, no.

“Chest compressions. Derek- start chest compressions!” He shouted, watching the dark skinned man approach quickly to begin pumping his hands roughly but to a beat against your chest. Then he looked at JJ. “Find out where they are-where are the paramedics?!”

The blonde woman appeared startled, more so from the scene unfolding before her. But she nodded and sprinted away. He didn't even know where Dave and Reid were at this point, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“(Y/n) sweetheart, I need you to wake up. Please open your eyes!”

“Come on, Sugar, can't leave us hanging like this!” Morgan chanted between each chest compression.

Nothing. Hotch could feel his knee locking from the position he held it in, but he did not move. He would not forgive himself for this, the least he could do was injure his knee to keep you alive. You still didn't reawake, body jolting with every deep press of Morgan's hands on your chest.

Finally, he heard the running footsteps and the sound of something metallic being dragged into the building.

“Medics here! Please, allow us access to the patient!” An unfamiliar commanding voice shouted. A flurry of people crossed the space towards the table and immediately took over from Morgan efforts, letting the man step back and take a deep breath. Another had an oxygen mask and bag and placed it over your face, asking for your name.

“Sir, please let me get to her.” Another medic said beside him, but he didn't move. He was frozen.

“Come on, man. You gotta let them help her.” Morgan sounded far off, Hotch couldn't focus on him.

“Sir. I need you to move.” The paramedic was more firm now, then he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body and pulling him back.

“No! She'll bleed out!” Hotch struggled against Morgan's grip to no avail when the both of them stumbled backwards to the far side of the room, letting the medics reach you.

“Stop! You need to calm yourself down, man! They've gotta get her stable enough to take her to the ambulance.” Morgan said, and only then did the frazzled unit chief stop struggling against him. He choked out a sob as they worked around you, manoeuvring you carefully out of the stirrups and onto the gurney. No noise came from you, his stomach tightened. And suddenly, they were rolling the gurney out of the room.

“I'm going with her.”

Hotch began to follow behind the group of paramedics, ignoring the horrified looks around him. Before he could even speak one of them spotted him and met him half way across the yard, eyeing his bloodied appearance.

“Sir…”

“Please. Let me come with her.” He pleaded softly, hands curled up tightly into fists.

“Sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. Our patient keeps going into cardiac arrest, this can be distressing-”

“-And she is my agent. You must let me see her to the hospital.”

Hotch stared at the paramedic firmly, although their face was becoming blurry.

From within the ambulance came the sound of frantic beeps and they gave Hotch one last look, murmured a quick apology and turned away to run over, clambering inside.

All he could do was watch them continue chest compressions on you, then the doors closed and the vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing there. Everything felt distant now, the calls of his name, the sound of several pairs of footsteps, it was murky.

Hotch felt himself heave, double over and with a groan; he vomited onto the dirt yard.

Oh nooooooooo what a mess :3 thank you for reading this far!! And also I'm sorry LMFAO

Taglist:

@southernraven @deludedfruitcake @tgskitten @zaddyhotch @cm-slvts-31 @dins-cyarika @midnghtprentiss @buckxysdoll @jazzimac1967 @louderfortheback @balariie @yeahmaybenoo @viawritesstuff @bau-muffin @littlegirl-bd

[veeluvss]

i know

reader x emily prentiss

tw : child sa (actually quite a big tw pls read at your own risk)

it was 4:35 am and i was exhausted.  it had been a full day of searching for and catching an unsub. ronald davies. sex offender, murderer, wife beater and father. i stood in front of him now, looking down at him. i couldn't bare the sight of his face but i gritted my teeth. "you killed them." i said. "no." he shook his head. "you did. i know you did." "how? how the fuck do you know?" "you hurt them." "i did not!" he smashed his fist on the table but i didn't dare flinch. i knew hotch was watching me, emily, jj, reid, morgan and rossi too. i wanted to scream but at the same time i had to bring this bastard to justice. "i didn't touch them." "no?" "no goddamnit." "then who did?" "i don't know!" "i know it was you." "it wasn't." "i know what you did to them ronald." "i did nothing to them." "you beat them." i whispered, leaning forwards. "day after day, you beat up your own children." "no." "but beating them up wasn't enough, was it ronald?" "you know nothing." "hayley, 5 years old." "don't talk about my daughter." "the women you killed weren't enough for you were they ronald? you had to come back to your daughter. your 5 year old daughter." he shook his head, over and over. "you knew it was wrong. that's why you left, to get your fix elsewhere but when you raped them women, all you could thing about was your little girl." "no!" he stood up but i carried on. staying strong. keeping my eyes held on his sickening ones. "you'd climb into bed beside her, whisper that everything was okay 'daddy just had a bad dream, you can make me feel better, can't you baby?'" "you have no idea what you're talking about." "i know exactly what i'm talking about ronald and i know exactly how that little girl felt. lying there beneath you, telling herself over and over and over again she'd making daddy feel better although she wanted to push you away and scream." i felt sick now, remembering, but i had to get him to break. "hayley," he whispered. "and you would leave her afterwards. she'd lie awake for hours in the cold, shivering but unable to say a thing. because she just made daddy feel better." he shook his head over and over again. "did she make you feel better?" i screamed at him. he began to sob then. "raping your 5 year old daughter made you feel good!" i shouted, beginning to lose my temper. "that's why you killed her," i seethed. he collapsed into the chair nodding. "that's why i killed her," he confirmed.

hotch and morgan walked in then, pulling me away from the table. i ripped myself away from morgan and straight out the door. i couldn't do this. i felt sick, i felt small, raging. i pushed through the bathroom door, hearing emily shout my name. i couldn't breathe.

i crumpled to the floor, collapsing into tears. her arms were around me instantly and jj came in too. "you're okay, you're okay," emily whispered, holding me close but i needed to be sick. i pushed away from her, making my way to the toilet as i threw up all the awful memories that had filled me. i could feel him, his heat, his touch, his skin and i could smell him : smoke and beer. i threw up again. someone grabbed my hair, putting it in a bobble and i wanted to scream, cry. "we've got you," emily said, caressing my back. i don't remember anything after that.

i found myself laying on the sofa after some time. my head in jj's lap. i looked up, wiping my eyes and she sent me a gentle smile. "hey," she whispered. i watched emily come over too, from the corner of my eye. she crouched down beside me, pouting. "are you okay baby?" she whispered. my eyes welled up with tears. emily didn't know what he did to me. emily had no idea what he did to me. "i'm sorry i never told you," i replied. "no no, love don't be sorry," she replied, cupping my cheek. "shall we head home?" i only nodded, feeling tired and hungry and confused.

in the car on the way home, emily kept her hand on my thigh, caressing it and sending me small smiles. i felt guilty. out of anything, i felt horrifically guilty. "he confessed?" i asked, looking at her quickly. "he's going away for life baby, don't you worry." i nodded. "shouldn't you have stayed at work?" i asked again. "hotch gave me some time off to look after you. we have a week, just you and i." i nodded again. i wanted to sleep, i felt exhausted.

later that night, you and emily curled up in bed together, emily holding you as close as she could. you'd only just joined the bau, this was your third case but after realising the father was abusive, he became your prime suspect. emily held you so tight, you felt her love radiating through her. she loved you. wholeheartedly she adored you. and you loved her. she hadn't left your side and you hoped and prayed she wouldn't leave your side again.

[storiesofsvu]

A Thin Line

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, some medical situations (again, likely some inaccuracies, don't come for me), minor mentions of the Lauren arc/past trauma/anxiety, but mainly fluff and all happy ending! Covers a bingo square for @prentiss-theorem and also is a fix it fic (i guess lol) for s7e15 of the same title. I just thought things were kinda brushed over in the aftermath.... so here we are.

The team had been in San Bernardino, California for nearly a week now solving what was originally thought to be a series of home invasions linked to gangs in the area. It was after piecing together the threads and a victim getting away that you were able to apprehend the unsub, the team was split up between addresses, Rossi, Reid and Hotch over at the unsubs while Morgan, JJ, Emily and you were heading to Councilwoman Hillary Ross’, knowing that she was one of two next likely targets.

Everything seemed to be going to plan as Derek and JJ snuck around to the back of the house, waiting only on you and Em to burst through the front as Emily announced herself, calling out into the house at just the wrong moment. Her eyes darted toward the unsub, noting the gun in his hand, pointed directly at her and only a second later she felt the burning in her shoulder, jolting back into the wall behind her as she groaned.

“Shit!”

“You’re hit.” You stalled, turning back to her and she nudged you in the direction of the unsub.

“I’m fine!”

“He’s upstairs!” You called over to the other two who had burst through the back door, flying up the stairs to take the unsub down.

“Go.” Emily urged, wincing as your hand came up to the injury, pressing against the wound.

“Like hell I’m going anywhere right now.” You muttered, tugging at your radio to call for medics.

“I said I’m fine.” She insisted, nudging at you once more, “you can go.”

“It’s already two on one, I’m sure they’re doing great. And you’re not fine, you just took a bullet Emily.” You could feel her blood slowly seeping in between your fingers, you would’ve been worried if it wasn’t for the amount of attitude you were getting from her, the scowl persistent on her face.

“It’s nothing.” She grumbled, letting out an annoyed sigh at the flashing lights outside as the ambulance pulled up, “oh come on.”

“You’re gonna need stitches at the bare minimum, c’mon.” Gently lifting her arm over your shoulder you helped her outside and to the paramedics.

Much to Emily’s dismay, she was told she would likely need more than just stitches, that an actual doctor would have to take a look at her before making the official decision and before she knew it she was being transported to a hospital. Even more annoying was that her adrenaline was starting to wear off, the fight or flight draining from her body as the pain began to creep in. She winced as she moved on the stretcher, letting out a quiet hiss and felt her cheeks flushing as your gaze shot to her, concern in your eyes.

“We’re almost there.” You murmured softly, reaching to squeeze her hand, almost surprised at the way her hand wrapped around your thumb, keeping you there instead of letting you pull away. The touch brought a comfort Emily needed but wasn’t ready to ask for, wasn’t ready to admit she even wanted. Her gaze remained turned away from you as she let out a low breath, trying to will the immense pain in her shoulder to go away.

The emergency room was a cacophony of noises, patients crying, yelping out, doctors, paramedics and nurses calling out to each other, demanding what they needed for their cases, alarm bells going off, phones ringing off the hook, the whir and beeping of machines. It was completely overstimulating and enough to block out the pain Emily was feeling briefly while they rolled her through the admittance stages. Your hand had been ripped away from hers as they’d unloaded her from the ambulance, leaving a cold spot on her skin as she tried to block out her surroundings. The lights were bright, still harsh even if she closed her eyes, she felt someone prodding at her skin as they started an IV, grimacing as the needle pierced her skin, the smell of rubbing alcohol burning at her nostrils. The noises from the ER were now slightly muffled, but there were as many beeping monitors and fast talking doctors moving around her right now. She could just hear your voice over the hum of noise, giving her credentials and details of what happened to a doctor, conversation talked over by one of the paramedics as she heard her stats being listed off. She was hooked up to another couple of machines, creating more beeping that was beginning to overwhelm her before the room suddenly seemed to empty.

“Paramedics patched you up pretty good.” Your voice rung through the air and her eyes cracked open, looking up at you with hesitancy in her eyes.

“Then we can go, right?”

“No.” You laughed softly, “you’re just not as emergent as some of the other cases. You’re under observation until they can get you a CT to check for internal damages and we’ll go from there.”

“I hate hospitals.” She grumbled, shifting awkwardly on the gurney, hating how on display she felt. The remaining nurse in the room seemed to sense her uncomfortable-ness, moving over and adjusting it so it was propped up and she could sit upright.

“It shouldn’t be too long Agent Prentiss; they’re just waiting for a backlog at the CT machine to clear out.” They explained, giving you both a brief smile before they disappeared from the room.

“Since when do you have a problem with hospitals?” You asked, dropping onto a spare stool, watching her curiously.

“I’ve just spent enough time in and out of them over the past year.” She replied quietly, ducking her gaze as she picked at her fingernails.

“Hey,” your hand reached out, stopping her destructive movements and she glanced toward you, “you’re non emergent, you’re sitting upright and talking and like you’ve been insisting since Ross’, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.” She flashed a tight smile to you and you squeezed at her hand, only pulling away when your phone pinged and you dug it out of your pocket to read the message.

“They got him, finishing up paperwork now. Hotch wants to know if you want them to meet us here.”

“Oh god no!” Emily groaned, wincing as she moved her arm to run a hand over her face, “I don’t need a fucking audience waiting for me. Tell him they can go home, hell, you can go with them.”

“Well tough titty.” You pocketed your phone, “I’m not going anywhere. You got shot; I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Emily felt a warmth spreading through her chest, knowing that she had someone by her side for the entire thing, unlike last time, she wasn’t facing this on her own. She felt her heart start to calm down rather than racing in her chest, sighing softly as her body relaxed into the stretcher. She was fine, she was going to be fine.

“You’re too nice to me, you know that.” She rolled her head to look at you, a dopey smile on her face and you practically snorted.

“I think those drugs are starting to kick in Prentiss.”

She frowned, pouting at you and you laughed again, this time glancing away as you prayed she was too distracted to pick up on the thudding of your heart in your chest.

Okay. Maybe the warmth spreading through her was the painkillers, but at least she wasn’t focusing on the pain in her shoulder and the terror of being trapped in a hospital anymore.

Though that sense of calm and comfort only lasted the next hour. The results from the CT were exactly what Emily didn’t want to hear.

“Surgery?!” She protested, “you can’t be serious! Can’t you just leave it in?”

“No.” The doctor chuckled softly, “that risks more damage than taking it out.”

“So just rip it out now, here.”

“I do that and you’re gonna hate me for how much pain your in.” They countered.

“Full blown surgery just seems like a complete waste of time and resources.” Emily commented, “for something as trivial as this?”

“Agent Prentiss, I can assure you it’s a very simple procedure and it won’t take very long at all. We’ll have you patched up and out of here by morning with some pain killers.”

“No I—”

“If there’s an issue with pain killers, general anesthesia isn’t in the same, you’ll most likely sleep it off and only feel a little bit groggy when you wake up from being under.”

“No, that’s the part I don’t want.” Emily felt like her heart was beating out of her chest, her throat tight and she wasn’t fully able to catch her breath. The beeping next to her seemed to be getting louder with each moment that flickered by and she was sinking into a nightmare where she couldn’t tell tonight apart from the last night she’d spent in a hospital.

“Em…” Your voice was soft, your hand coming up to squeeze at hers gently, thumb rubbing reassuringly, a cool touch on her burning skin. “Just breathe for me, okay?” You turned to the doctor, “is there any way you could do this with a local anesthesia or something? Something where she doesn’t have to be asleep?”

“There likely isn’t a doctor who would.” He replied, “the CT didn’t give full visibility, if an artery gets nicked we’d have to put her under in a rush and adding extra things on the to do list in a situation like that isn’t ideal. I didn’t see anything in her medical history about a reaction to anesthesia.”

“It’s not exactly medical.” You replied, feeling Emily’s hand squeezing at yours.

“I don’t have the greatest track record with being put under.” She muttered and the beeping on the heart monitor started to increase again.

“Hey…” you shifted from your spot on the stool so you were perched on the edge of the gurney, grabbing her other hand, “look at me.” You waited for a moment until she actually looked up at you, the fear in her eyes slowly melting away as you shot her a small smile, “you need to stop deflecting and shutting down. They’re just trying to do their jobs and get you outta here healthy and in one piece, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You’ve got a bullet in your shoulder and the longer it’s in there the more risk you’re at, so let’s do this, okay? You’re not alone, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere okay? I’ll take care of you. I’ll be as close by as I possibly can the entire time, I mean, they’ve gotta give us some leeway, we are federal agents.” You raised a brow in the direction of the doctor who let out a huff of a laugh mixed with a sigh.

“I’ll have someone escort you to the gallery.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, “And like you being knocked out is gonna have me running off, I promise. I’ll be there the whole time and when you wake up.”

Emily let out a long low breath, the tightness in her chest finally easing as chewed on her lip, “okay. You better not be lying, if I wake up on the other side of the country you’ll be the one with a bullet lodged in your shoulder.”

“Em!” You scolded with a laugh, watching as a small smile finally broke out on her lips.

Emily focused on her breathing and remaining calm, listening to your voice as you walked with them all the way down to the OR floor. She wasn’t even sure what you were rambling on about, you always had the most ridiculous stories from when you babysat your nephew and they were mindless enough yet also wild enough that it would steer her mind away from the thought of being put under again. You squeezed her hand once more, saying a quick ‘see you soon’ before you were taken up to the gallery and you watched the way Emily’s eyes flicked toward you as she counted down from ten, letting out a breath to know that you were there, watching over her and this would be over before she even knew it.

The low beeping and dull ache in her shoulder were what roused her first, shifting slightly in the bed with a quiet groan, trying not to agitate her shoulder too much. Without opening her eyes she knew there was a soft light coming from somewhere in the room, much nicer than the glare of the fluorescent overheads and the next thing her ears picked up was the sound of a page of a book being turned before the creaking of a chair.

“Em?” Your voice whispered into the night, leaning forward against the side of the bed and she groaned, her eyes fluttering open.

“Shit still sucks.” She complained, pushing herself up to sitting and you let out a chuckle.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” She swallowed, reaching out for the glass of water on the nightstand. As she fully woke up and her eyes adjusted to the light in the room she was able to take you in, spotting the bags under your eyes, the slight redness in them and the fact that you’d somehow snagged a hospital issued hoodie that was about three sizes too big to curl up in. “How late is it?” She asked and you looked at your watch.

“Almost six.” You replied with a tired yawn.

“You haven’t slept yet.” It wasn’t a question; it was an observation and you shrugged.

“I wanted to be awake when you came to, doctor said it wouldn’t be too long. And I definitely wasn’t about to sleep while you were in surgery, besides, it was pretty cool to watch.”

Emily observed you for a moment, her eyes drilling into you so much that you ducked your gaze, picking up your own drink to distract yourself, praying the heat in your cheeks wasn’t noticeable in the low light of the room.

“Why would you do this much for me? You could have left with the rest of the team.”

“I promised you wouldn’t be alone. I care about you, I wanted you to feel safe, I mean, you’re my… friend.” You shrugged it off, picking at the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Okay, now who’s shutting down and deflecting?” She asked with a tease in her voice, prodding at your arm and you let out a soft sigh, glancing back up at her with a playful glare in your eyes.

“Being in the hospital alone sucks enough on its own. The last time you had surgery you woke up across the world completely isolated and if that was me I would’ve been terrified. I know you don’t want to admit it and I’ll never mention it to the rest of the team but you were scared earlier and I wanted to make sure you knew I would be here for you, no matter what. And I… would like to hope that if the tables were turned that you’d do the same for me?”

“Are you kidding me?” A laugh burst from her lips, “of course I would! I really don’t think you have any idea how much you mean to me. You still being on the team and being around was the main reason I decided to stay, no matter how awkward it was with everyone else.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” You ducked your gaze once again, this time no doubt the blush on your cheeks noticeable.

“Not at all.” Emily’s finger curled under your chin, turning your eyes up to her, “you were an absolute sweetheart today without even needing to ask and that was exactly what I needed, even if I am too stubborn to say anything. When we get back I’d really like to pay you back by taking you to dinner.”

“Really?” Your brow furrowed, wondering if she was finally stepping across the line the two of you had been toeing since she’d gotten back.

“Yeah.” She softly pinched at your chin, “you can read me better than anyone else. You know me almost better than I do some days and… I really care about you too.”

“Okay.” You laughed softly, the smile remaining on your cheeks, “well then I think that sounds great.”

“Great.” She smiled across at you, “it’s a date.” She gently tugged at your arm, “now c’mon, you need to get some sleep and there’s plenty of room up here.”

With a small laugh you shifted, kicking off your shoes and sliding under the blanket into Emily’s embrace, careful not to nudge her left arm too much. You let out a small yawn as you nestled into her uninjured shoulder, her free arm wrapping around you as she relaxed back into the bed, a sigh of relief finally feeling you in her arms. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was completely safe and wouldn’t have to worry about being alone ever again, not with you around. Her lips brushed against the top of your head; a feather light kiss left on your hair as she spoke.

“Thank you.”

________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble

[buggzincognito]

Riled Up

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: The BAU is currently on a case in Colorado, Reader and Spencer are stuck in the same room, will they be able to keep it cool?

CW: One Bed Trope, Mutual Pining, Canonical Violence, Friends/Coworkers to Lovers, Hand fixation, future Smut, Dom!Spencer Reid, praise, Spencer loves to tease reader, pet names like “angel” and “sweetheart” reader gets Spencer “worked up” *insert wink*

You and Spencer were really good friends, just that, friends, and despite his adorable smile, angelic face, and irresistible body, his fingers in particular…ahem, that had to be enough for you. You guys were coworkers and have a really good relationship; you didn’t want to ruin that just for him to reject you and make things weird. Pretending you weren’t pining after one of your closest friends was fairly manageable…

Until now.

“Bad news everyone,” Hotch started “We’re gonna need to pair up for the next few nights. The hotel doesn’t have enough room for all of us.”

Everyone started getting into their pairs. Hotch and Rossi, JJ went with Prentiss, Morgan with Garcia, so that leaves… aw man.

“Guess that leaves you and boy wonder, huh sweet pea?” Pen said with a wink.

Spencer looked excited. He nudged your arm with his and said with a giggly smile “What can I say? We make a good team”

“You bet we do” you feigned a chuckle.

As much as you adore that tall, lanky, ball of sunshine, sharing a room with Spencer was not going to be easy. What if your feelings take over? No no no, Totally nothing wrong with sharing a bathroom with the unrequited love of your life. Totally won’t be eating away at you and pulling at your heartstrings. It’ll be okay though, you’ll stay professional and just stick to your bed and keep as far away from his as possible. You got this.

You trudged closely behind Spencer to the door of your room, he fumbled with the keys in a way that should not have been as entrancing as it was, and he unlocked it. Spencer did a quick scan of the room and was shocked by its small size.

“Uhm” he said your name with hesitation.

What’s that about? “Yeah, what’s up Spence?- Oh”

One bed. One fucking bed.

Spencer admittedly freaked out a bit.

“You know what? I can just sleep on the floor don’t worry, you can have the bed, I’m sure you’re tired.” Spencer was always sweet like that, putting you first.

“Spence, don’t sleep on the floor, and you worked just as hard as me.” you were gonna regret saying this, “It’s a big bed right? we can probably share if that’s okay with you. It’s not like we’re gonna get much sleep on this case anyways”

Spencer’s face grew red and he was looking anywhere but at you “Yeah, I mean if you’re okay with it, you make a good point, we can share.”

“Okay cool cool cool, do you wanna shower and then we can go over the case?” Your eyes were lingering on Spencer’s digits tapping rhythmically on themselves, if he noticed he didn’t make a comment.

“Yeah sounds good, you go ahead first.”

On your way to the shower, all you could think about was sleeping in the same bed as Spencer, sharing a room would’ve been hard enough, but a bed? You’re not sure you’re gonna make it.

You couldn’t focus on the shower either, mind still focused on the tall lanky and sweet guy like, 30ft away from your naked body, it was driving you wild.

After half an hour of wiping the grime off of your body, you finally feel clean. You reach for your towel to dry off- or you try to. It wasn’t there. Oh fucckkkk you left it out there.

You crack the door open as little as possible “Uhm Spence, I left my towel out there could you get it for me?”

“Y- Yeah of course!” You hear him semi-shout.

About thirty seconds later you hear a knock on the door and when you open it, a purple towel attached to Spencer’s hand is presented to you.

“I couldn’t find yours so.. you can just use mine.” His face was looking away from the door entirely and even his eyes were closed.

You managed to mumble out a thank you and take the towel from his hand.

You dry off and dress in your favorite graphic t shirt and a pair of boxers that make your ass peak out ever so slightly. In your defense, you thought you would be rooming alone. They’ll be covered by the shirt, right?

When you exit the bathroom you see that Spencer already set out the case file and you smell your favorite take out food.

“You didn’t eat all day so I thought you should eat!” he said in a bit of a high pitch. “You need the energy you know- Not that you’re out of shape or anything!”

Fuck him for being so goddamn sweet and considerate. Fuck him for making your heart melt.

“Thanks Spence, that’s really sweet of you.” despite your heartache, he always knew how to draw a smile out of you.

Spencer beckons you to sit down at the small coffee table the hotel provided.

“Spence, I thought you were gonna shower”

He started fidgeting with his fingers. and you’re eyes were glued.

“Well, I wanted to eat with you, but I didn’t want you’re food to get cold,” you’re getting a toothache, “plus I can shower later, we should work on the case before it’s gets too late.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Spencer and you went over the case for about an hour or so, but it was hard to focus when all you could look at was Spencer’s beautifully sculpted hands. You yawn.

“You know what it’s getting late, we should head to bed.” Spencer interjected.

“But it’s only…” you check your phone. “…uh 3am”

“Precisely. Ok so, I’m going to take a super quick shower and I’ll be right back, don’t worry about waiting up for me!” and he was off.

You were out the second your head hit the pillow.

When Spencer came out of the bathroom, he cleaned up a little bit, turned off the lights, and got tucked in at a respectable distance, and he tried to doze off into a slumber.

Until he woke up 30 minutes later with a tent in his pants.

He initially thought it was because he was laying 1 foot away from the love of his life, but upon further inspection he realized it was because the love of his life was burrowing into his chest and dry humping him in their sleep.

“Mmph~ Spencer” you whined while rubbing your barely covered core against your roommate for the next few days.

Hearing his name on your lips sounded like an enchantment. Spencer had no idea what to do, so he just.. scooted away.

But of course you gave a dissatisfied whine in your sleep, moving closer to him and this time gripping onto him like a vice.

Spencer Reid is many things, but an assaulter is not one of them, you clearly weren’t letting up though, and you wouldn’t stop moaning his name. So he decided to give you an acceptable amount of attention to your neck and face in order to calm you down, praying you wouldn’t wake up.

He peppered kisses along your jaw and right behind your ear and he whispered.

“It’s okay angel, go back to sleep.” and by magic, you were out.

And as Spencer said goodbye to the last of his pride when he waltzed into the bathroom to take care of himself. He vowed that he would tease you ten times as much as you did him tomorrow.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next day you and the team were at the victims house investigating. You and Spencer were in the attic, looking at the victim’s belongings.

You two were shuffling about the cluttered space with barely any room. You keep catching him staring at you but when you look, he just smirks and goes back to his business, leaving you all riled up. Was he doing that on purpose?

What was even weirder is that Spencer I hate physical touch Reid kept finding excuses to touch you, like holding your hips when brushing past you in a narrow hallway or brushing his thumb over your cheek because “you had something there”. And now while you’re trying your best to focus on your job, your brain is yet again occupied by this fucking prick.

Spencer calls your name

“Can you come over here real quick? I need your help something.”You went and kneeled down next to him.

“So Im pretty sure we could find something useful in this chest, but it’s locked. Do you think you can open it for me?” You listened intently, while his gentle fingers danced along to an absent rythme and his eyes wandered your body, making you heat up.

“Y-Yeah no problem!” Is there something on your shirt or-

“Reid! Come here real quick!” Morgan shouted from below.

But Spencer’s gaze never left your figure, he just picked up where you left off.

Spencer said in a more sultry voice than usual, eyes filled with…want? “I knew I could count on you sweetheart,” he began to rise, “such a good girl for me hm?” and he took his leave.

What the hell just happened?? As confused as you are you’d be lying if you’re heart wasn’t beating out of your chest and the tingling sensation between your legs was nonexistent.

When Spencer returned, he acted like nothing happened and just…kept going on with his day? Were you imagining things?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After a long day of work you guys finally made it back to your hotel room. Spencer was currently in the shower and you were using his absence as an opportunity to read your…explicit book.

When Spencer exited the bathroom however, he was wearing grey sweatpants and the most well fitted shirt that perfectly displayed his slender figure. That’s it. You died. You died and this is heaven.

You were entranced by his figure you didn’t even notice him sit on the side of your side of the bed.

“Whatcha reading?” he rested his head in his hands.

“You uh, you probably wouldn’t have heard of it.” That’s believable right?

“Read it to me.”

“What?”

“Read me the part your on,” Spencer repeated himself. “Please?” he flashed a grin and how could you resist?

“Okay…” you swallowed your pride. “He never knew how badly he needed her until she laid in front of him, bare body on display. He took his time tracing the curves of her body and peppering kisses to her freckles… That’s when he knew, he had reached heaven.” You dared not to look up at Spencer.

“That sounds…beautiful.” he started. “By the way, i have a question for you, been meaning to ask you this actually.”

Your ears perked up, “Yeah what’s up?”

“You look at my hands a lot, Why is that” Spencer tilted his head a bit. He already knew the answer.

“Uhm…” You were speechless, what were you supposed to say to that??

“They look…pretty.” You managed to mumble

“I think you look pretty.” Spencer patted his lap, motioning you to mount him.

You were entranced, how could you say no?

Spencer started tracing circles into your hips with his thumbs. and brought his lips to your ear

“You know, I’ve always known how much of a fucking whore you were for me sweetheart,” he whispered. “But I didn’t do anything about it, to stay professional.” he gripped your ass, invoking a gasp out of you. “You though, my beautiful angel, had no problem grinding your pussy into me and whining my name the second you got the chance hm?” He looked at you and his gaze softened. “Tell me to stop and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t be mad at you I promise.”

Despite the tent making itself known to your core, Spencer still prioritizes you. But still, “Spence, just kiss me please.” you were desperate.

He wasted no time pressing his lips to yours. He tried to be gentle, but how could he when you were just so needy?

You were grinding your core onto his and moaned into his ear as Spencer placed lovebites all over your neck just to sooth them with a lick of his tongue. He flipped over so you were laying on your back, caged beneath him.

Spence nudged at your shirt, eyes pleading for permission. You nodded, thinking he was going to take it off, but he dragged his fingertips along your abdomen and only lifted your shirt so it scrunched up just above your chest. You squirmed, hoping to achieve some friction from his knee between your legs.

Spencer peppered kisses along the center of your body, starting at your sternum, and working his way down to your belly button, to right above your your shorts, and then she pressed a hickey into the space, being sure to emphasize his tongue, causing you to whine. He did it another time just to achieve that reaction again.

Spencer rose up to your level and placed your chin between his index and thumb. He kissed from your jaw to the skin under your right ear and asked “Can I taste you, angel?” it was clear from his voice that he was restraining himself.

“Please Spence…need you.” All you could think about was him touching you.

Spencer placed a kiss to your mouth. “Oh you pretty little thing, I’ve barely touched you and your brains already mush?” Spencer removed your shorts. “That’s alright love, I’ll do all the thinking for you, you just focus on feeling good for me okay?” He positioned himself between your legs and pleased to find your lack of underwear.

“You were just waiting for me hm? Were you that ready to just whore yourself out for me?” Spencer licked a stipe down the center of your folds. “Fuck , you taste amazing” You shivered.

Spencer flicked his tongue on your clit, earning him a shriek. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and put his mouth on your clit, sucking and licking like it was the only thing he knew how to do. You rocked your hips as best as you can into his face. He moved lower and swirled his tongue into your entrance, collecting all your juices and making you scream. As he tasted you, his nose would brush against your clit. The sensation became too overwhelming and you were about to climax, but he pulled away. You sobbed and pleaded for him to keep going.

Spencer looked up at you, lips swollen and eyes full of lust. He kissed you passionately, the taste of you still lingering.

Spencer put two of his fingers against your lips.

“Suck.”

You happily obliged.

“I figured since you like my fingers so much, I should use them hm? Does that sound nice, love?” You hummed around his fingers and nodded eagerly.

“Thought so.” he smirked and removed his fingers from your mouth.

With his body caging yours, he reached his wet fingers between your bodies and spread your wetness around your folds, making you whine.

“Spencer, stop teasing.”

“You teased me first,” he entered two fingers into your core. “forgetting your towel so I’d have to give you one, do you know how hard it was for me not to waltz into that bathroom with you and make you mine?” Spencer began to curl his fingers inside you. “Prancing around in those slutty fucking shorts, you wanted to rile me up huh? That get you off, sweetheart?” He found your g-spot in record timing, your vision went blurry. “Not to mention last night, when you were so desperate for me that you started rubbing this pretty pussy on me, and moaning my name from those pretty lips.” Spencer went rougher. “You made me go into the bathroom to take care of myself when i could’ve just filled you up instead.”

“Mmph S-Spence” your voice was shaky, you were so fucking close and then..

He pulled away again.

“Nononononono” you were clawing at his hand and canting your hips, trying to get some friction.

Spencer tsked at you. “Awww,” he gave you mock pity. “Does my angel wanna come? Would you like to come around my cock, sweet thing?”

You were crying at this point. “Fuckfuckfuck, need you inside Spence.”

He thrusted his clothed cock against your pussy.

“Now that’s not how you ask.”

“Spence please…Fuck me”

Spencer began to pull down his grey sweatpants. “There you go, that’s much better.”

Spencer’s cock so big you didn’t know if you’d be able to take it all. He must’ve seen the worry in your face because he swooped down and kissed you.

While he was kissing you, Spencer lined himself up and put himself in you so slowly. You whimpered into his mouth and right before he was all the way in, he almost pulled out completely, before slamming right back in at a rough pace.

“G-God, you feel so amazing, angel.” Spencer was death gripping the headboard and your waist while he was pounding into you.

You were chanting his name and various pleads, you weren’t sure for what, but it just felt right.

Thrust, after thrust, after thrust. Spencer was pussydrunk.

“Fuck, do you hear that? You’re making such beautiful sounds, is that all for me?”

“Only you” your eyes were closed and you were so fucking close, your release washed over you faster than you expected. Spencer just kept going.

“Walls squeezing so tight fuck” You mewled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Where do you- mmph- where do you want it, love?” Spencer groaned through his sentence.

“M-My stomach” Spencer pulled out and obeyed your request. Your foreheads rested against each other.

You fell asleep under him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you woke up, you were cleaned and clothed. Spencer’s arm was draped over you and his face was burrowed into your neck.

This was right.

[blackamethyst04]

Distraction

Sub!Spencer Reid X Fem!poc!Reader

Warning: Smut; Submissive Reid, overstimulation, whimpering, public sex.

As Hotch stood in front of the group you couldn’t help but notice the absence of Reid. Oh shit, did he call in? I hope he’s okay. You said. Did you go to far, did you scare him off. You looked around in panic before you heard hurried footsteps. You looked at the door to see a sloppily dressed Spencer hurry into the room setting his bag down in the only empty spot beside Derek. A sigh of relief escaping your lips softly.

“Sorry, I overslept.”

Spencer said. Hotch gave him a slight glare before turning to the screen again. Before you heard Prentiss speak. Her eyes looking at you and then back to Reid.

“Hmm, I wonder what keeps Spencer Reid up so late.”

Prentiss said. Reid looked at his stuff righting his tie before be turned back to Prentiss, after giving you a look. You continued to avoid eye contact. Looking at the case files and the screen. You acted normal, you just avoided Spencer’s direction at all costs.

“I was Studying.”

Reid said trying to cover himself. Derek looked at Reid then back to Hotch. Before Rossi spoke.

“What we’re you studying Reid?”

He asked. Derek looked at Spencer’s posture and then turned back to Hotch. You and Spence were the smart ones. After a hard case yesterday Spencer asked for your second opinion on some case files. You guys were never expected to be together and you guys were just friends.

“Probably Human Anatomy.”

Derek teased as he playfully flicked Spencer’s hair. Spencer have a smile as it faded. Hotch cleared his throat.

“Listen, what you do in your own time is none of my business. Just try to be in work on time. Now back to the case. Jj.”

Hotch reinforced. You felt eyes on you, it wasn’t in Spencer’s direction. So you turned to see Emily looked at you with a smug smile. Damn profilers. As hotch and JJ continued to go into the case, you continued to pay attention. Before being send for wheels up. You stuck your eyes into a book trying to avoid everything. You then heard Derek talking.

“Hey Reid. You got a little something on your collar.”

Derek said. You quickly looked up as Reid looked around before he touched the spot derek pointed at. Looked at his hand as it has a bit of lipstick on it. Your lipstick. Reid quickly tried to dust it off, just rubbing it into the fabric. You quickly turned back to your book, waiting to land. It was just a one night stand right, hell it probably didn’t mean anything to Reid. You thought to yourself as hotch went over the teams your were sent to the evidence sight. All of you were, you continued to focus on the crime as Derek and Spencer talked. You could feel him staring at you. You couldn’t hear them Well.

“Anyways Kid, what did you do last night?”

“I told you, I studied.”

Reid replied to Derek. You could still Feel him staring at you.

“Studied what? The same thing your studying right now?”

Derek teased. You turned and saw Reid completely staring at you. Derek caught on.

“Yea…uh huh.”

Reid said. Half ass answering the question.

“Damn reid. You got a price of that bitter chocolate and you can’t get the flavor out your mouth huh.”

Derek said. Did he just refer to me as Candy…you scoffed as Reid turned to Morgan. You continued to work. Before prentiss walked to you, Jj following.

“So…Y/N. What’s going on with you and Spencer.”

Jj asked crossing her arms. You turned and said in a defensive tone.

“What are your talking about. Nothing. Nothing happened.”

You said. Prentiss laughed turning back to Jj.

“Oh come one y/n. You haven’t looked at Reid once, and he won’t stop looking at you. Come one you can tell us.”

You sighed. Damn profilers.

“Fine. Yesterday after our case failure he called me and asked if I could help him look at some files for a second opinion. I wasn’t doing anything so I agreed. I went over and we studied case files…”

You said. The girls looked really entertained. You decided to finish.

“After we looked at them for a while he got frustrated that we couldn’t find anything. I told him he just needed a moment away from the files. So he sat in his chair frustrated like. He said he needed a distraction…so…I kissed him to keep his mind off of things. And he kissed me back…one thing lead to another and…ya know. One thing lead to another.”

Prentiss interrupted.

“Let me guess you guys were bumping and grinding as the kids say.”

You gave prentiss a look of cringe.

“Not really. There wasn’t any removing of clothes…just….hickeys and….yea know. Grinding.”

You said. You thought about that night. The way you were able to make Spencer Reid whimper like a dog. Making him cum just by grinding on him. The way he held onto you. Your mind began to wonder.

“I’m sure it didn’t mean anything to him.”

You said reassuring them.

“Obviously it did, the way he keeps studying you.

Jj said looked at Reid. You sighed as you continued to work.

“We have a case to solve.”

You said. Walking away from them. You decided to avoid Spencer as much as possible: didn’t wanna distract him or yourself. Finally finishing the case and going home. So far so good. You finally had time to relax. You decided to go to your safe space. Which was of course a private library. It was night so no one really went to the library. Since you spent most of your time there to escape reality, the librarians left you alone as they closed up. Letting you stay, you had those privileges since you basically owned the place. You spent hours and hours in the library reading through books. Your favorite part was, no one knew where it was. You continued to read walking around before your heard a noise. You turned to looked around in the empty library. Weird. Whatever. You said before going back to what you did. No one would rob a library. You pulled down your skirt that stopped about an inch or so above your knees. You continued to read before your heard the sound of footsteps. You looked around. Okay that’s not just the building. You walked along the aisles looking for the source of the noise before. You jumped.

“You know avoiding a problem is not going to solve it right.”

You heard a voice say, you gasped holding onto your chest as you looked up glaring at Reid.

“What the hell Spencer! You can’t do that.”

You said sternly. He looked at you and looked around.

“People have cell phones for a damn reason. God.”

You said.

“And have you ignore me there too?”

“How did you even find me.”

You said. Lowering your voice.

“I had Garcia Ping your location.”

“Damnitt. What the hell.”

You said walking away from him. Of course he followed you. You walked to the tables sitting in the chair.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you. About…that night.”

“Is there anything to say? We made out and teased each other. I was just your distraction. I didn’t think it meant anything to you.”

“Didn’t mean anything to me? Are you crazy…I can’t get that out of my head.”

“…”

You stayed quiet. You couldn’t stop thinking about it anyways. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted more. You thought for a second as your stood up putting the book back. Looking for a new one, before Reid walked over to you, grabbing your face and kissing your deeply. You slowly wrapped your hand on his cheek. Kissing him back as you felt your body press into the table your were sitting at. God, why is it so hot. This. This man. You looked around at the empty library. You began to pull on his tie, untightening it, as you pulled it off. Unbuttoning his shirt. You pulled away gasping for air. Before Spencer panted.

“What if someone sees us.”

He said that in a whispered tone looking at you, his brown eyes flicking in the lights.

“It’s closed. No one is gonna come in.”

You reassured. He swallowed looking around nervously. His comfort was important to you.

“A-are you sure?”

He asked again. You looked at him and nodded. You then sighed.

“It’s okay. We don’t have too. I got too ahead of myself…we can stop.”

You said backing away. He looked down at you as he lightly grabbed your hand.

“Wait. I believe you, can we continue..”

He said nervous. You shook your head as you backed up. He looked back at you, before he spoke again.

“Please.”

He asked. His puppy dog eyes matching yours. You looked at this sloppy mess of a man, his tie untightened and his shirt half away unbuttoned. He was such a sweaty mess, his long hair soaking in the sweat. He pleaded once more.

“Please…”

You pushed him back towards the couched and the recliners, pushing down in the recliner as you continued to unbutton his shirt, opening it up, as you kissed him once more, before you slowly kissed down his neck, climbing on his lap in the as you pulled his hand from the arm rests to around your waste. He looked down at your legs before he adjusted himself in his chair, his khaki slacks wrinkling in the chair. He whimpered as you adjusted yourself, feeling him pressing against your panties. God you wanted to hear him beg again. You looked at him as you cupped his hands around your behind. Pulling on your wrists as you directed Reid to push your hips up and down his pant legs.

“Oh…oh god.”

Reid said looking back up at your his eyes stabbing through his wet sweaty hair. You smiled looking at him. He was so submissive. You knew if you told him to do anything, he would do it. After continuing to grind on him, your panties were soaked. You grabbed him by the neck using your thumb to make him look at you. Before you kissed him, the chokehold you had on him was laughable really. As you continued to kiss him, he placed his right hand on your cheek, allowing your tongues to slip into each others mouths. Dancing with each other. You couldn’t get enough of him, you wanted to hear him whimper again, and again. So, you decided to make him cum without even fully going through with sex. You grabbed his hand from your cheek, pulling it down as you kissed his cheek, down to his neck and to his chest. As you used his hand to glide up your thighs and under your skirt, moving his hand to your warm and wet panties. Grinding on his hand, and his pant leg. As if he wasn’t overstimulated enough, you continued to kiss down his neck, even sucking on the crease leaving a dark hickey. He began to struggle, gripping your side so tightly you winced in pain. This is when you picked up your speed. Grinding faster on his lap. He let out a moan, as you felt him, erupt and in his pants. He panted.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

He said. She stopped as he hung his head low. You sighed as you grabbed his chin forcing him to look at you.

“You okay Sweetie?”

You asked. He nodded. Before he continued to look at you with his pleading eyes. You didn’t get to cum yet, it’s not fair. You didn’t wanna stop now. But if he wanted to you could finish yourself off. You felt his hand still on you, you thought for a moment before you almost got off. He held on tightly to you. Did he want more? You wondered what he would do if you fiddled with his belt buckle. You scored back a bit, looking at the large wet spot on his pants. He readjusted himself nervously. You looked at him, as you slid your hands down his shoulders. Rubbing down his chest to his stomach, him moving his waist in discomfort. Or was it comfort. He didn’t know what to do with himself. You kissed him in n the forehead, as you looped your finger around his belt tugging on it. Teasing him with it.

“You can take it off.”

He whimpered. You looked down on him as you decided to use your power against him. She unbuckled it, and then let go of the belt. As the belt buckle dropped on his pants.

“Please…You’re all I want.”

He begged. You pulled off his belt tossing it to the side, as you slowly stood up. You looked down onto him once more standing over him.

“But I want you to do it.”

You teased. He looked at you his jaw slowly Dropping. He nodded as he began to undo his pants button. You put your hand on the recliner inches from him, before your whispered in his ear.

“Good boy.”

As you said that Reid’s eyes widened and you couldn’t help but notice his bulge growing. You laughed to yourself. You were just teasing. But, he seemed to really like that. Pushed him deeper into the chair as you stood over him, sliding your hand down his boxers. A whimper escaping his mouth. He was so reactive. I guess he didn’t go out of his way to have sex all the time, Or master bait. Was he a virgin? No. You don’t think so that is. You began to Jack him off, slowly and lightly. Watching as his bulge began to grow more and more. He closed his eyes whimpering and moaning.

“P-please…y-y/n.”

“Please what?”

You said darkly. You wanted him to say something.

“I…want it….”

He said. You gave him a look of unamusement.

“I need it.”

He reassured. The way he pleading for you to fuck him only turned you on more. You knew if you did what he asked he would whimper more and more for you. Why not overstimulate him a bit. You slowly climbed on him, this wasn’t your first rodeo, but you couldn’t say the same for him. You moved your panties to the side, as you lined him up with your entrance. Should you go slow? No. Why would you. He asked for it. You wanted to see his reaction. All at once your quickly forced him into you. Quickly covering his mouth as you did. He let out a loud moan. Even though you brought this on yourself you were not ready for all of him at once. Your walls closing around on him. You couldn’t help it, your let out a gasp…moaning as well. He gripped your hips tightly as his eye became runny. You uncovered his mouth as he gasped for air. Dropping his head on your shoulder. You once again forced him to look at you. For a second you stared into his eyes. They were full of lust. This part, you’ll go slow. Just for him. So he can get used to it. You slowly bounced up and down. Every movement his grip getting tighter.

“You okay Spency?”

You asked. You just wanted to make sure he was okay. He nodded. If you could stare at his eyes forever you would, Everytime he would look away flustered, you’d bring him back by kissing him. The kissed became more and more sloppy. You could only image how he would be if he was restrained.

“Faster. Please.”

He begged. You followed his pleads. Quickening your pace. You let out a few moans yourself which only turned Reid on more. When he began to get used to the feeling, you continued to go faster and faster. He could barley keep up. You were about to reach your climax. Continuing at that speed as your riding became sloppy.

“I think…I’m gonna…”

He started. You interrupted him with a deep disgusting kiss.

“Me too.”

You said through kisses. You had to go faster, could he handle any more of this. You couldn’t help it as you went faster and harder. Before he gripped you tightly and you tangled Your fingers in his hair.

“W-wait. I-…oh god!”

He stuttered, you knew what that meant. Continuing to got as he threw his head back. Helping you go faster. Your stomach dropped as you couldn’t help it, feeling him cum This beside you was like drinking hot coco on a snowy day, as you felt him fill you up, of course he didn’t mean to, you squirted your liquids all over him. You both panted obsessively. As both of your head fell into each others shoulders. Holy hell…

“I…I’m sorry…I couldn’t stop…”

Reid whimpered hiding in the corner of your neck. You laughed,*

“It’s okay. I don’t have a uterus anyways…it got taken out a while ago…it wasn’t my choice…”

You said reassuring him. You slowly gathered the strength to stand up, your legs shaking. You fixed your panties as he rebuckled his pants swiping the hair out his face.

“I feel like an asshole.”

He said. You turned sitting beside him.

“What? Why?”

You asked.

“Least I could have done was take you out for dinner first.”

“It’s okay. It was brought on by both of us.”

“Can I.”

“Can you what Spency?”

“Take you out to dinner?”

He asked. You looked back at him and gave him a smile.

“Yea. Not today tho.”

“Yea. Not today. I’m too exhausted…”

He said. You turned to him and laughed. Before leaning on him.

[c-m-stuff]

Safe Again

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful son, but suddenly he is involved in a school shooting.

-Warnings: Angst, having a child, school shooting (no one gets hurt, except the shooter)

-Word count: 1318

-Note: (Repost from Wattpad!) It's horrible this happens often, and I'm so sorry for the ones who have experienced this. I hope, everyone is okay and safe. Also, let's say this is around season 7 referring to the kids age. Much love <3

Masterlist

Y/N POV:

'Admit it, pretty girl. I won the game.' Derek stated, while we all were sitting in the conference room.

'Yeah, only because you cheated!' I said back, with a chuckle on my face.

'No, I didn't!'

'Yes, you did.' my husband confirmed, while the others nodded.

Just as Derek wanted to argue back, Aaron came in with a rush. We all got quiet, looking at his concerned state. It made us also worried.

'We need to leave, now.' he spoke in a serious voice, meaning it.

'Hotch, what's wrong?' Emily asked, as we all looked up at him, confused.

'There is a school shooting.' he started, as we all got up immediately, but he stopped us.

'In the school of our kids.' he finished, all our eyes wide, full of fear and concern.

Our son, Henry and Jack, went all to the same school. However, they weren't the same age. Jack is a little bit older, while Henry and (Y/S/N) are almost the same age. But, they were best friends, which is great.

We took as quick as we could our stuff, running towards the black SUV's. I sat next to Spencer, holding his hand tightly. I looked him in the eyes, with concern and fear. Spencer looked at me the same way.

_________________________

Finally, we all made it into the school, already wearing our bulletproof vests. Just as we stepped out of the SUV's, we heard the loud sound of shooting. My heart went faster and faster, worse scenarios taking my thoughts over. A single tear, escaping my eye.

'HOTCH!' suddenly Derek yelled, as just on time, he shot.

The unsub, collapsed on the ground, while crying it our from the pain. He tried to shoot at us, the first thing when we arrived, but luckily Derek didn't let him. Derek ran over to him, making sure his weapon was out of sight, and cuffing the shooter.

There was standing an officer, who probably made the call, waiting for us. We all walked, with high speed, towards him.

'Is there another shooter?' Aaron tried to ask him as normal as possible, but we could hear his shaking voice.

'That was the only one. We all heard shots a few times, but I don't know if anyone got hit.'

'Alright, Reid, Prentiss, Morgan and I, are bringing the kids in safety downstairs. JJ, Rossi and (Y/L/N), you do that upstairs.' Aaron ordered, as we all nodded, before entering.

Just like he had said, me, JJ and David, went upstairs. We first called all the children with us, saying they were safe, and that they needed to go outside. As we had all the kids, and the classrooms were empty, David offered to bring them, together with the teachers, outside. JJ and I, thanked him, and went to look for our own children, as they weren't with the rest of the kids.

We both went different directions, calling out their names, looking in every classroom. My heard raced as crazy, as I tried not to breakdown, from fear and concern.

I went inside a classroom, seeing nobody.

'(Y/S/N), Henry, Jack!' I called out, as suddenly I heard footsteps running towards me.

'Mommy! Auntie (Y/N)! Aunt (Y/N)!' the three familiar voices, making me sign out a breath of relief.

To be clear, I wasn't technically their aunt, which I don't mind. But, I've spent a lot of time with them, and they started to call me also "auntie (Y/N)" or "aunt (Y/N)", making me really happy.

I squatted down, while spreading my arms open, as the three boys ran into my arms. I hugged them tight, and pressed a kiss on each of their heads.

'Omg, there you are. We all were so worried. Are you guys okay? Are you in any pain?' I asked them, slightly releasing them from the hug.

'We don't have pain, mommy.' my son said, as they nodded their heads in agreement.

Their eyes were still filled with fear, and I could see, that they have cried.

'Everything is okay now. We have the bad guy, he can't come anymore. You are all safe.' I assured them, as they calmed down.

'Let's find your mommy, Henry, and you daddy, Jack. They are really worried about you.'

'Do you want to hold my hands?' I asked them, as they immediately took them.

I stood up, (Y/S/N) holding my left hand, while Henry was holding my right. Jack, holding Henry's hand.

I walked out of the classroom, as I just saw JJ across the hallway, leaving a classroom, only to quickly go to another. She was with her back towards us, causing me to call her.

'JJ!' she turned around, as a weight fell off her shoulders.

'MOMMY!' Henry yelled, as he let go of my hand, running in the arms of the blonde.

'Henry, I was so worried. Are you alright? Oh, come here.' she lifted him up, hugging him.

She thanked me, with appreciation on her face. I smiled, happy the two had reunited. In the meanwhile, I was holding Jack's hand with my right, as we walked closer to them.

'DADDY!' Jack yelled, as he also let go of my hand, running towards his father, who just took the stairs.

Aaron immediately lifted him up, hugging him also closely.

'There you are. Is everything okey? You're safe now, buddy.' he reassured his son, also whispering a "thank you", as I replied with a smile.

'Hotch, have you seen Spence?'

'Yeah, he's looking worriedly downstairs.'

'Thanks.'

I squatted down again, meeting our beautiful son.

'Let's go find daddy.' I said to him, as I lifted him up. I pressed a kiss on his head, still so relieved he is okay. Relieved that everyone is okay.

I went downstairs with him, as I saw, Derek, David and Emily, just leaving a classroom, still looking for the missing kids.

'Oh, you have him.' Emily breathed out a sigh of relief, they all did.

'Yeah, Henry and Jack are also fine.' I answered, as they relaxed more.

'That's good. No one got hurt, by the way.' Emily spoke out, putting a smile on my face.

'That's great. Do you guys know where Spencer is?'

'He's looking here somewhere.' Derek answered, as I thanked them, before leaving to find Spencer.

'Sweetheart, do you want to call your daddy, please?' I asked our son, as he nodded.

'DADDY!' he yelled, as Spencer rushed out of a classroom. Once he saw us, he ran towards us.

'Gosh, are you both okay? Are you hurt, buddy?' he said, worriedly, as I handed our son to him.

(Y/S/N), shook his head, while his dad hugged him tight.

'I found him with Henry and Jack, they're all fine. No one got hurt.' I assured him, as I planted a kiss on his cheek. He did the same with me, before my phone began to rang.

Seeing who was calling, I answered my phone, and putted it on speaker.

'Finally, someone picks up. Please, please, tell me the children are alright.' I heard Penelope, concern raising her voice.

'Everyone is fine, Penny. No one got hurt, and we found (Y/S/N), Henry and Jack.'

'Thank goodness, you all need to bring the kids to here, I need to cuddle them.' she joked, but deep down, she meant it.

'Will do, Penny.' and, with that, everyone went back to the BAU, with the kids.

_________________________

[reidsdimples]

Strictly Professional | Part 1

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+🔥

You’ve been hooking up with your coworker Spencer Reid. Does the rest of the team know? 👀

After a long case, the two of you can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“Dr. Reid, a minute?” You ask him as the team makes its way into the bullpen. The flight from Seattle was long and everyone’s ready to wrap up their paperwork and get home.

“What’s up?” He steps aside into the small kitchen with you.

“What was the true probability that Morgan wouldn’t have had to shoot that unsub?” You ask him.

“Given his devolution, the desperation of being trapped, and the lack of control he had, he wasn’t coming out of that apartment alive. I’d say based on what we know, only about a 5% chance of one of us not having to shoot him,” he answers quickly.

“Right,” you sigh.

“We saved the girl, it’s still a victory,” he places a hand on your shoulder. The touch diverts your train of thought to him, to the electricity that just surged between you.

He meets your eyes and swallows hard before dropping his hand.

Those hands, those damned hands. In the last month they have been all over your body, his long fingers inside of you, down your throat, pinching your nipples…

“Reid, Y/N, a word?” Hotch pulls you out of your thoughts.

Did he know what the two of you had been doing? That two of his agents have been sleeping together secretly? You look to Reid whose face gives nothing away. He wouldn’t show concern, he’s way better than you at masking things from other profilers.

Shit shit shit.

Hotch leads the two of you to his office, JJ, Morgan, and Prentiss exchange looks of curiosity. Your heart hammers in your chest, heat creeping into your throat and ears.

He doesn’t know, there’s no way he knows. You two were careful.

“I got a complaint that you snapped at one of the witnesses,” Hotch starts with Reid.

Relief floods you but worry for the verbal beat down creeps in. Reid had snapped at a witness, right next to you.

“And you didn’t tell me it escalated,” Hotch turns to you.

“Sir, I…” you stammer.

“That witness was out of line, Hotch. She agressed us first,” Reid reasons.

“And as soon as Reid got snippy, I shut the interview down,” you bud in.

Reid grips one of the arm rests and you remember that same tight grip on your ass. You jolt upright and adjust in your chair, catching Hotch’s attention.

“Reid you are brilliant and you are an asset to this team but you have to be more patient with these people. They are victims too,” Hotch leans on his desk and crosses his arms. “Y/N, you did the right thing by shutting it down but next time run it by me so I’m not blindsided by a complaint. Understood?”

You both nod.

“If it happens again, I’m documenting a disciplinary action,” he says with finality. Reid clears his throat, red on his cheeks.

You both stand in unison which Hotch takes a mental note of.

“Great work this week nonetheless,” Hotch says as Reid gets the door for you.

Leaving his office feels like stepping out of tar, you slow your breathing and purposely walk away from and ahead of Reid.

Shit. Hotch is reading the two of you, he’s picked up on something.

An hour passes and no one on the team has left, everyone still lost in their paperwork and conversation with one another. It’s one of your favorite things, time together after the storm of a case.

You leave your desk to go to the restroom before heading to the intel room to grab some more files which are kept in a large closet connecting to Garcia’s office.

You’re fumbling through paperwork for a while, taking out boxes and placing them on one of Garcia’s desks. You make a mental note to clean it before she gets to work in the morning.

You turn suddenly at the feeling of a presence behind you at the entrance to the closet.

“Shit Reid, you scared the hell out of me,” you sigh.

He’s leaning against the door frame, watching you with a conflicted expression. Strands of hair fall around his face, messy and untamed. He’s removed his cardigan and rolled up the sleeves to his light colored button down. It the dim light he looks gorgeous, mouth watering even.

“You think Hotch is onto us?” he steps forward and pulls the closet closed behind him.

“It’s possible,” you answer honestly.

But then he’s right on top of you, his fresh scent invading your lungs, his body heat warming you.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you closer to him as he starts to nip at your neck.

You pull on his waist band, need buzzing between your thighs. These meetings, these moments where heat and need build to an impossible level are what you live for.

“Then we better be quick,” he snakes a hand up to your jaw and kisses you quickly, desperately.

You’ve never done this with so little people in the office, what if they notice your absence? What if they notice both of you gone together? You’re about to say something when you become aware of the taste of him, his cock straining against his pants, and just how acutely you need him inside of you.

“This is a bad idea,” you hum while hurriedly pulling his cock free from his pants. You pump it slowly, causing him to grunt under his breath while he hikes your skirt up.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you put this little skirt on,” he smiles and rips your panties to the side. You giggle but bury your face in his chest so the sound doesn’t travel.

He sinks a finger into you, his finger immediately soaked and it pleases him. He bites his lip knowingly before pinning you against the wall and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he says when you screw your eyes closed to revel in the moment he enters you.

He stretches you around him, gravity forcing you all the way down onto his cock. You grip onto his shoulders as he starts to move, one hand on your hip, the other in your hair. The tip of his cock strokes the nerves inside of you so deliciously that your eyes roll back in your head. It had been too long since you had him and the possibility of getting caught is a thrill that heightens the experience.

“So good,” he whispers, sweat beading on his forehead.

The sounds of him moving inside of you and both of your controlled panting brings you to your climax fast and hard as he continues his rhythm into you. He’s focused, he knows exactly what you like and how to get you to cum for him. That eidetic memory will not let him forget precisely what you like.

“Reid,” you whimper and he clamps his hand over your mouth. You bit into his palm as you clench around him and he fucks you through your orgasm.

“That’s right, keep coming on it,” he urges. The low moans in the back of his throat are ecstasy and you know you’re going to cum again.

He drags his cock out and pushes back in, torturously slow. If he had time, he would tease and drag this out until you were crying. Your legs shake around him as he hits your gspot repeatedly, now rushing the two of you to finish before you get caught. Fuck.

“You’re going to finish with me and then you’re going to go back out there and pretend you aren’t filled with my cum,” he growls against your ear. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you can’t take it anymore.

You come undone around him in waves as he pumps you deep and fills you with his cum. He shudders against you, steadying himself on the wall. His cock pulses inside of you and you’re reeling with pleasure.

There’s no time to revel in it though because you both hear Morgan and Prentiss talking outside of Garcia’s office.

He jolts back, you drop to the floor and pull your skirt down while he fixes his pants. Both of your are panting but trying to control it. The room is hot and alive with what just happened.

“Go out there,” you shove him. “Wait look at me,” you say. You realize that you left a claw mark on the side of his neck, the scratches angry and red. So instead you rush into Garcia’s office from the closet just as Morgan enters it.

“Reid in here?” He asks when he only sees you in the office chair with a folder. You’ve stopped breathing. You hope your hair doesn’t give you away.

“I think he’s in there looking for a file,” you say quickly.

“This the one you need?” He asks Morgan, handing him a file.

“Yeah,” he takes it and turns to leave. “Come look at this,” he tells Reid to follow him.

Reid glances at you with a small smirk as he follows Morgan out of the room, one hand resting on his neck to cover your scratches.

Fucking hell, you’ll never get enough of him.