#spencer reid x kidnapped!reader

[sincerelybubbles]

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Silent Echos

Summary: Y/N is unknowingly dating and unsub, will the team get to her in time?

Pairing: slight Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt, crime

Warnings/Includes: angst, hurt, danger, crime, kidnapping, murder, abuse, assault

Word count: 4.8k

a/n: sorry this is dark!! no excuses really

main masterlist

The conference room at the BAU headquarters was a somber place, its walls filled with photos and case details of the latest horrific crimes. Aaron Hotchner stood at the head of the round table, his expression as grave as ever. The rest of the team sat around, listening intently. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare, adding to the cold, clinical atmosphere of the room.

Hotchner cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the screen behind him, where images of three women were displayed side by side. Their faces bore a haunting similarity, enough to unsettle even the most seasoned agents.

"Three women," he began, his voice steady but with an edge of urgency. "All missing for several days before their bodies were discovered. Each victim was assaulted, killed, and dumped without any signs of remorse. The killer made sure their faces were left untouched, but the rest... the rest was brutal."

He clicked a button on the remote, and the screen changed to show the locations where the bodies were found. "These areas are remote, secluded. No witnesses, no CCTV footage. It's clear that this is personal for the unsub. The level of violence suggests a deep-seated rage, likely tied to someone close to him."

Emily Prentiss leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Do we have any leads on a common connection between the victims?"

Hotchner shook his head. "Not yet. The similarities in their appearances suggest a specific type, which could mean the unsub is projecting onto these women. We need to find out who they remind him of."

Derek Morgan glanced at the photos again. "Any family or friends who fit the profile?"

"That's what we need to dig into," Hotchner replied. "Reid, anything from the victimology?"

Spencer Reid, who had been lost in thought, snapped back to attention. "All three women were in their mid-thirties, single, no children. They lived alone, and none of them had any known enemies. They worked in different fields and didn't socialize in the same circles. The only thing linking them is their appearance."

"Which means," Hotchner continued, "we're looking for someone with a specific psychological trigger. This isn't random. It's methodical, controlled. He knows what he's doing."

Penelope Garcia, the team's technical analyst, chimed in from her corner. "I've been running background checks on people in their lives, but so far, nothing stands out. No shared acquaintances or unusual activity."

Hotchner nodded. "Keep digging, Garcia. We need to find any thread that ties these women together."

The room fell silent as each member of the team absorbed the gravity of the situation. This was no ordinary case. The unsub was intelligent, careful, and driven by a dark compulsion. They had to move fast before another woman became a victim.

"We'll reconvene on the jet," Hotchner said, breaking the silence. "Let’s get to work."

As the team dispersed to their respective tasks, a sense of urgency hung in the air. They all knew the stakes. Finding the connection between these women could mean the difference between life and death for the next potential victim. And with each passing hour, the unsub grew bolder, more confident that he could continue his reign of terror unnoticed.

Hotchner stood and added, "Wheels up in 30. We're heading to Idaho." The team members exchanged determined glances, knowing that every second counted. They quickly gathered their things, preparing for another intense, high-stakes case. 

---

The jet touched down in Idaho under a cloudless sky, the landscape starkly beautiful but a harsh contrast to the dark work ahead. The team disembarked quickly, Hotchner leading the way as they made their way to the local police precinct. They were met by Detective Laura Thompson, a seasoned officer with a determined look in her eyes.

"Welcome," she greeted them briskly. "We've been expecting you. Follow me, please."

Inside the precinct, the atmosphere was tense. Officers moved with purpose, aware that time was of the essence. Detective Thompson led the team to a conference room where a young woman sat, nervously fidgeting while an artist sketched beside her. Her face was pale, eyes wide with the trauma she had endured.

Hotchner stepped forward, his demeanor calm and reassuring. "I'm Agent Hotchner, and this is my team from the BAU. We're here to help."

Detective Thompson introduced the woman. "This is Sarah Collins, the fourth victim who managed to escape. She's been incredibly brave."

Sarah looked up, a flicker of relief crossing her face. "I... I bit him. While he was tying me up. He dropped his weapon, and I just ran. I didn't look back."

Emily Prentiss leaned in, her voice gentle. "You did the right thing, Sarah. Can you tell us anything else about him? Any details that might help?"

Sarah nodded, her hands trembling slightly. "He had a tattoo on his wrist, a small black star. And he kept mumbling something about 'her'. It was like he was talking to someone, but there was no one else there."

The sketch artist paused, holding up the drawing for Sarah to review. She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "That's him. That's the man who tried to kill me."

Hotchner took the sketch, studying it carefully. "Thank you, Sarah. You've been incredibly brave, and you've given us something to work with."

He turned to the team. "Reid, Morgan, let's get started on a geographical profile. We need to figure out where he's operating from. Prentiss, JJ, talk to Sarah more. See if there's anything else she remembers. Rossi, go over the crime scenes again. Garcia, I need you to dig into any records of men with a tattoo of a black star."

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid moved to a map laid out on a table. Morgan began marking the locations where the bodies were found, while Reid started analyzing the patterns.

Hotchner looked back at Sarah. "We'll find him, Sarah."

As the team dispersed to their tasks, the weight of the case settled heavily on their shoulders. They had a sketch and a few leads, but they still needed to uncover the identity of the unsub and the woman who had caused him such fury. The clock was ticking, and they knew they had to work quickly to prevent another tragedy.

"JJ, I need you to go public with the sketch. We need all the help we can get to identify this unsub. The faster we get his face out there, the better chance we have of someone recognizing him," Hotchner instructed.

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau nodded, determination in her eyes. "I'll get it done."

JJ stood behind a podium outside the precinct, flanked by local law enforcement. Cameras flashed, and the murmur of reporters filled the air. She held up the sketch of the unsub, her expression serious.

"Good afternoon. We are asking for the public's help in identifying this individual," she began, her voice steady. "He is wanted in connection with multiple assaults and murders. If you recognize this man, please contact our tip line immediately. Any information, no matter how small, could be crucial in our investigation."

She paused for a moment, allowing the weight of her words to sink in before continuing. "Additionally, we urge women who bear a resemblance to these victims to be extra cautious." She gestured to the photos of the three murdered women displayed on the screen behind her. "These women were targeted because of their similar appearances. If you or someone you know looks like them, please take extra precautions and report any suspicious behavior."

---

Y/N sat in her living room, absently flipping through channels, her mind preoccupied with the mundane concerns of the day. Her heart skipped a beat when she stumbled upon the news broadcast. The urgency in JJ's voice immediately caught her attention, and she leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen.

The sketch of the unsub appeared, and Y/N's breath hitched. The face staring back at her was disturbingly familiar. It was Daniel. Her boyfriend. The man she had trusted and loved.

As JJ continued, Y/N's eyes shifted to the photos of the victims. Her blood ran cold. Each woman had a hauntingly similar appearance to her own. The same hair color, the same features. She felt a chill run down her spine as she realized the terrifying connection.

For a moment, she was paralyzed. A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions surged through her. Could it really be him? She felt a pang of disbelief, mixed with a deep, gnawing fear. Memories of Daniel's occasional distant, angry moments flashed in her mind. She had always dismissed them as stress, convincing herself it was normal. Now, those memories took on a sinister new meaning.

Y/N's hands trembled, and she felt an overwhelming urge to do something, to take action. But she hesitated. The taught behaviors from Daniel held her back, making her question her own judgment. What if she was wrong? What if this put her in more danger?

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she clutched her phone tightly. She knew she couldn't ignore this. Her fear for her own safety was overshadowed by the need to stop Daniel from hurting anyone else. Mustering all the courage she had, she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door, heading straight for the police station.

The precinct was alive with activity and near constant phone calls when Y/N arrived, breathless and visibly shaken. She approached the front desk, her voice trembling.

"I need to speak to someone from the BAU. It's about the sketch on the news. I think... I think it's my boyfriend," she said, her words stumbling over each other in her rush.

The officer at the desk quickly notified Detective Thompson, who then led Y/N to the conference room where the team was gathered.

Hotchner looked up as they entered, his expression shifting to concern when he saw the distress on Y/N's face. "I'm Agent Hotchner. Please, have a seat."

Y/N sat down, her hands shaking. "The man in the sketch... it might be Daniel. My boyfriend. I can't believe this, but I think I recognize him. I think he might be the one you're looking for."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Hotchner leaned forward, his tone calm and reassuring. "You're doing the right thing by coming to us. We need to know everything you can tell us about Daniel. Any detail, no matter how small, could help us."

Hotchner focused his attention on Y/N. Her distress was evident, but she had shown remarkable courage in coming forward. Hotchner's expression was calm and composed, as he asked the crucial questions.

"Y/N, has Daniel ever hurt you?" he asked gently, his eyes searching her face for any sign of hidden pain.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and shook her head quickly. "He's always been kind to me, but there are moments when he gets... distant. Angry, even, but he never shows it around others. I thought it was just stress from work. But he never... he never laid a hand on me."

Despite her words, the team members exchanged knowing glances. Years of experience had taught them to read between the lines. Derek Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed her body language, the subtle flinches and the way she kept her hands tightly clasped. Emily Prentiss noticed the shadows under Y/N's eyes and the way her gaze seemed to dart around the room, unable to settle.

Hotchner continued, his tone still gentle but probing. "Sometimes, abuse isn't just physical. It can be emotional or psychological. If there's anything, anything at all, that made you uncomfortable or afraid, it's important for us to know."

Y/N looked down, her hands trembling. "I... I don't know. There were moments when he got really angry, but he always apologized afterward. I thought it was just stress. I mean, I messed up sometimes. I didn't think it was anything more."

Emily Prentiss moved closer, her expression compassionate and understanding. "Y/N, it's not your fault. Sometimes, people like Daniel can make us feel like we're to blame for their actions, but it's not true. You've been incredibly strong to come forward, and we're here to help you. You're safe now."

Y/N looked up, tears brimming in her eyes. "I just... I never thought it was abuse. I thought I was the one causing the problems."

Prentiss gently took Y/N's hand in hers. "It's a common reaction, especially when someone you care about manipulates your emotions. But you're not alone in this. We're going to figure this out together. You're doing the right thing by being here."

Hotchner turned to Garcia, who had been monitoring the conversation from her laptop. "Garcia, start digging into Daniel's background. We need everything you can find."

Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "On it, Boss."

---

Emily and JJ led Y/N to a quieter room, away from the hustle and bustle of the precinct. Emily offered Y/N a seat and a cup of tea, hoping to calm her nerves.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fear and confusion.

Emily sat beside her, her demeanor warm and comforting. "You've been very brave, Y/N. I know this is difficult, but we need to learn as much as we can about Daniel. Can you tell me anything about his past? His family, his job, anything that might help us understand him better?"

Y/N thought for a moment, her brow furrowing. "I... I don't know much about his family. He never really talked about them. He said he had a difficult childhood, but he never gave details. He works in finance, I think, but he travels a lot for work. I don't even know the name of his company. I know he likes to hunt."

Emily nodded, jotting down notes. "What about friends? Did he ever introduce you to anyone he knew?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, he was always very private. We mostly spent time alone together. He said he didn't have many close friends."

As Emily continued to ask questions, it became clear that Y/N knew very little about Daniel's life outside of their relationship. The realization dawned on her slowly, bringing a new wave of fear. "I... I really don't know anything about him, do I?"

Emily reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N's arm. "It's okay, Y/N. You're safe now, and we're going to find out everything we can. You're doing the right thing by helping us."

Y/N nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you. I just want to help. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

JJ, who had been quietly observing, spoke up with a gentle smile. "We won't let that happen. We'll find him, and we'll stop him. You're not alone in this."

---

Penelope Garcia's fingers flew over her keyboard as she dug into Daniel's background. Suddenly, she gasped and leaned closer to the screen, her eyes widening in shock.

"Oh my god," she muttered, quickly calling Hotchner over. "Hotch, you need to see this."

Hotchner, Derek, and Rossi gathered around Garcia's workstation. "What did you find, Garcia?" Hotchner asked, his voice tense with anticipation.

Garcia pulled up an old photograph. "This is Daniel's mother. She looks almost identical to Y/N. And get this—Daniel was taken away from her as a child due to severe abuse. It all fits. He's projecting his rage towards his mother onto these women."

Hotchner nodded grimly. "We have our guy. Now we need to find out where he's taking his victims."

Rossi spoke up. "Emily said Y/N mentioned Daniel goes hunting a lot. Maybe he has a cabin. That might be where he's taking them."

Hotchner turned to Derek. "We need to find if there is a cabin. Y/N might be able to help us narrow it down. Let's get her back in here."

---

Y/N sat in the conference room, anxiety written all over her face. When Spencer Reid entered the room, he was momentarily taken aback by her appearance. He quickly composed himself, but the initial shock lingered. Her resemblance to the victims and the photo of Daniel's mother was striking, and there was something else about her that made his heart race.

"Hi, Y/N. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid," he said, trying to sound as calm and reassuring as possible.

Y/N nodded, her eyes still wide with worry. "Hi, Dr. Reid."

Reid sat down across from her, spreading a map on the table. "We believe Daniel has a cabin where he's taking his victims. Can you help us figure out where it might be?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "He goes hunting in the woods north of here. He never mentioned a cabin, but I also never went with him. He said it was his alone time."

Reid nodded, marking the area on the map. "Did he ever mention any specific landmarks or roads that could lead to the cabin?"

Y/N thought for a moment. "He talked about a river nearby. And there was an old logging road he used to get there."

Reid marked the potential routes on the map. "This helps a lot, Y/N. Thank you."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "I just want to help. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Reid smiled gently. "You're doing a great job. We're going to find him, and we're going to stop him."

---

After the meeting with Y/N, the team regrouped to discuss their next steps. Spencer Reid was still processing his initial reaction to Y/N when Derek Morgan approached him with a teasing grin.

"Alright, what was that, pretty boy?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spencer looked up, confused. "What was what?"

"You couldn’t even look Y/N in the eye after you saw her. Why?"

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. "I just... I wasn't expecting her to look so much like all of the victims."

Derek smirked. "You sure that's it? Don’t have a crush now, do we?"

"Morgan, inappropriate," Hotch warned, his tone stern but his eyes showing a hint of amusement.

Spencer mulled this over, his mind racing. It wasn't just that Y/N looked like the victims. There was something about her that had caught him off guard, something he couldn't quite put into words. But he pushed those thoughts aside, knowing they had more important things to focus on.

Hotchner redirected the conversation. "Let's stay focused on the case. We need to find that cabin. Reid, Morgan, you two work on pinpointing the exact location. Prentiss, JJ, continue talking to Y/N and gather any more information she might remember."

As they dispersed to their tasks, Spencer couldn't help but glance back at the conference room where Y/N was sitting. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. There was no time for distractions now. They had a job to do, and they needed to do it fast.

---

Y/N sat in the quieter room with Emily and JJ, trying to steady her nerves. As they talked, her anxiety shifted to another pressing concern.

"My dog," Y/N said suddenly, her voice trembling. "Daniel doesn't like him. I'm afraid if he goes home and sees I'm not there, he might take it out on him."

Emily and JJ exchanged concerned looks. JJ placed a comforting hand on Y/N's arm. "Y/N, it's not safe for you to go back there. We can send someone to check on your dog."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. "No, please. I need to see him. I need to make sure he's okay. I can't just stay here knowing something might happen to him."

Emily hesitated, glancing at JJ. "Y/N, we're worried about your safety. Daniel is dangerous, and we can't risk you getting hurt."

Y/N's panic escalated, her voice trembling as she cried. "Please, you don't understand. I have to go. I can't leave him there."

JJ sighed, seeing Y/N's distress. "Alright, we'll send a police escort with you. But you have to promise to stay close to the officers and let them handle everything."

Y/N nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. I promise."

Y/N arrived at her house with the police escort, her heart pounding in her chest. The officer led the way inside, his flashlight cutting through the dim interior. Y/N called out softly for her dog, relieved to hear him barking in response from the backyard.

As they moved further into the house, the officer was suddenly struck from behind. Y/N screamed as Daniel emerged from the shadows, his face twisted with rage. Before she could react, he grabbed her, holding her tightly.

"You couldn’t keep your goddamn mouth shut?” Daniel snarled, dragging her toward the door.

Y/N struggled, trying to break free. "Let me go, Daniel! Please!"

The remaining officer quickly radioed for backup while trying to keep a safe distance, his weapon drawn but unable to get a clear shot without risking Y/N's safety. Daniel, using the chaos to his advantage, managed to overpower the officer and drag Y/N out of the house and into his car. He sped off, leaving the police and the BAU scrambling to respond.

---

The precinct was in a state of controlled chaos as the BAU regrouped. Hotchner barked orders, his tone urgent. "Garcia, I need everything you can find on Daniel's possible locations. Focus on that cabin. Reid, Morgan, get the map. We need to pinpoint exactly where he could be."

Garcia's fingers flew over the keyboard. "I'm on it, Hotch. I'm cross-referencing hunting permits, property records, and any other data that could give us a lead."

Reid and Morgan spread out the map on the table, marking the potential areas based on Y/N's descriptions. "She mentioned a river and an old logging road," Reid said, tracing the lines on the map.

JJ, her face pale but determined, joined them. "We need to move fast. Every minute counts."

Garcia's eyes lit up as she found a promising lead. "Got it! There's a cabin registered under Daniel's uncle's name. It's isolated, fits the description perfectly."

Hotchner nodded. "Good work, Garcia. Reid, you’re with me. Let's move." 

The BAU team arrived at the cabin deep in the woods, the tension palpable as they exited their vehicles. Hotchner and Spencer Reid led the charge, their hearts pounding with urgency. They reached the front door, weapons drawn, and with a swift kick, Aaron Hotchner forced it open.

Inside, the scene was horrifying. Y/N was tied to a crude crucifix, completely naked, her body trembling in fear. Daniel, the unsub, stood nearby, his eyes wild with a mix of anger and satisfaction.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!" Hotchner commanded, his gun trained on Daniel.

Daniel hesitated, but the sound of more agents entering the cabin behind Hotchner made him realize he was outnumbered. Derek Morgan and David Rossi quickly moved in, subduing Daniel and placing him in handcuffs.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Emily Prentiss rushed to Y/N. Spencer's hands shook slightly as he worked to untie the ropes that bound her. The moment she was free, Y/N collapsed against Spencer, clinging to him desperately. Her body shook with sobs, and something primal in her brain sought the safety and protection of the tall man holding her.

Spencer was momentarily aghast, unsure of what to do with a fully naked woman hugging him so tightly. He looked around helplessly, his face flushed with embarrassment and concern.

Hotchner quickly approached, removing his large FBI jacket and draping it over Y/N's shoulders. "It's okay, you're safe now," he said softly, but Y/N refused to let go of Spencer.

Outside, the awaiting medics rushed over as the team carefully escorted Y/N out of the cabin. She clung to Spencer, her grip tightening whenever he tried to step away. The medics, understanding her traumatized state, offered her a pair of scrubs and a blanket. Spencer gently helped her into the scrubs, trying to maintain her modesty as best as he could.

As Y/N was wrapped in the blanket, she continued to cling to Spencer, her eyes wide with panic and confusion. "Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Spencer looked at Hotchner, who nodded reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere," Spencer promised, his voice calm and soothing. "I'll stay with you."

The medics began their preliminary checks, ensuring Y/N was physically unharmed. All the while, Spencer stayed by her side, holding her hand and offering quiet reassurances. The rest of the team kept a respectful distance, understanding the bond that had formed in Y/N’s brain during those terrifying moments.

Emily Prentiss approached, her expression one of deep empathy. "You're safe now, Y/N. We're here for you," she said softly.

Y/N nodded, tears streaming down her face as she clung to Spencer. In her panicked, traumatized state, he was her anchor, the one constant in the midst of chaos. The team knew they had a long road ahead to help her heal, but for now, she was safe, and that was what mattered most.

Once Y/N was thoroughly checked and stable, Spencer had to reluctantly leave her with the local authorities. The BAU's job was done, and it was time for them to head back to Quantico. Spencer felt a pang of guilt as he left her in the care of others, but he knew she was in good hands.

---

The team settled into their seats on the jet, the tension of the case gradually giving way to the camaraderie that came with their line of work. As they relaxed, the teasing began.

"So, pretty boy," Morgan started with a grin, "how does it feel to have a beautiful, naked woman literally throw herself at you?"

Spencer's face turned a deep shade of red. "I was just doing my job," he stammered, looking anywhere but at his teammates.

"She was beautiful, though," JJ added, smirking.

Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his embarrassment evident. "I didn't even think about it like that. She was traumatized, and I just wanted to help her."

Emily, sitting across from him, pointed out a piece of paper sticking out of his pants pocket. "Spencer, what's that in your pocket?"

Spencer looked down, surprised. Before he could reach for it, Rossi deftly plucked the paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

"Hey, give that back!" Spencer protested, his face flushing even more.

Rossi raised an eyebrow and began to read aloud. "Dear Spencer, thank you for everything you did for me. I'm sorry for how things happened, but I'm so grateful you were there. If you ever want to talk, here's my number. Y/N."

The team fell silent for a moment before Morgan broke the silence with a playful grin. "Looks like you've got a new friend, Reid."

Spencer took the note back, his fingers trembling slightly. He looked at the handwriting, a mix of gratitude and something else that made his heart skip a beat.

"When did she even have time to write that?" JJ wondered aloud.

"She must have gotten paper and a pen from the medics," Emily suggested.

"But Spencer was there the whole time," JJ pointed out.

Morgan chuckled. "Ah, but young Reid was preoccupied."

Spencer's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "I was just trying to make sure she was okay."

"You gonna call her?" Emily asked, her tone more serious now.

Spencer looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "No, she’s a victim. That’s got to be breaking some rules."

Rossi nodded thoughtfully. "You're right, Spencer. We have to maintain professional boundaries. But that doesn't mean you can't be supportive from a distance."

Morgan leaned back, considering. "Yeah, maybe send a message just to let her know you're there if she needs someone to talk to. Nothing more."

Spencer nodded slowly, tucking the note away carefully. "I'll think about it. She went through a lot, and the last thing I want is to cause her any more trouble."

The team nodded at his decision, understanding the fine line they walked in their profession. As the jet continued its journey back to Quantico, Spencer leaned back in his seat, deep in thought. He couldn't shake the image of Y/N's fearful eyes and the feeling of her clinging to him for safety. Despite the rules and boundaries, he felt drawn to her in a way that he couldn't quite ignore, and didn’t quite feel professional.

[patty-08]

Saw by touch

spencer reid x f blind!reader

warnings: kidnapping, blood, death

Author’s note: I'm not blind and English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Darkness. I was used to the dark, but this was different, it was quiet but at the same time so loud and scary. I was in a room that wasn't too big, and from the quiet squeaking and dripping sounds, I assumed I was in the basement. Apart from the rats, I was alone. Tied to a chair with dried tears on my cheeks, dehydrated and hungry. I stopped crying and begging for him to let me go some time ago. I don't know how long it has been since my kidnapping. At the beginning, I tried to count, but it didn't work out. A man kidnapped me and since then he came to me three times, he didn't do anything, he just stood there and watched me begging him to let me go. Then I heard the door open.

'hey, we had a good time together, but it has to end' he was nervous.

I knew what the end meant. Death.

'hey... you don't have to do this, you can just let me go, I don't even know what you look like... I won't tell anyone' I tried to calm him down

'I am not stupid!' I flinched at the sudden shout 'if I let you go, you'll go to the police right away' then I felt a blade on my neck.

'no, I won't go to the police, we can just forget about it, you don't have to do it' now tears were streaming down my face

'shut up, shut up!' he pressed the blade a little harder and I felt warm blood trickle down my neck

suddenly the door opened with a bang and I heard

'FBI' immediately feeling a slight relief, there is still hope

'Ronald, get away from her and get on the ground,' said one of the male agents

'no, if I do this, I'll go to jail' said Ronald, as I've learned, pressing the knife harder from stress.

'and if you kill her you'll end up in jail or we'll shoot you... just let her go'

'no' he moved the blade against my neck and almost at the same time I heard the gun go off.

'hey hey you're okay, everything will be fine' said the same agent while pressing something to my neck to stop the bleeding while in the background I heard another agent calling an ambulance.

'I-' I tried to say something

'calm down... don't say anything, my name is Spencer, the ambulance is on its way' he tried to calm me down

After about two minutes of listening to Spencer's soothing voice, the ambulance arrived and as the paramedics took me away on a stretcher and before I lost consciousness, I only managed to whisper

'Thank you'

I woke up to the faint beeping of machines

'hey' it was Spencer

'where am I?'

'in the hospital, it's over' he reassured me

'and Ronald?'

'he died' he replied almost immediately 'he won't hurt you anymore'

'thank you... for saving'

'it's my job'

'still, thank you... can I touch you?... I mean, I-I know your name and voice, but my eyes are replaced by hands and I would like to know what my savior looks like' I stuttered a little

'yy- I- sure' he came closer, offering me his hand

from his hand my hands went towards his face, gently examining it.

'I have light brown eyes and light brown hair,' he said helping

he was beautiful, I knew it even when I saw him by touch.

[velvetm00light]

Rescue: Y/N's POV

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Three of Save Me in Y/N's POV

Spencer's POV: here

Previous Chapters: one, two

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're abducted by a brutal serial killer who's been stalking you. In an attempt to survive, you allow yourself to imagine the comforting words and actions of your coworker, Spencer. After a few days of grueling torture, your team finally finds you, but not before the damage is done.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief. In future parts, will mention PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: This one is a dark one, so please read at your own risk. If you still want to read the series but want to skip over the abduction, you're totally more than welcome to skip this chapter. This chapter is also written in Spencer's POV so you can read that instead or skip both all together (there is one important detail at the end so if you want to just scroll down and read the very end you can do that too:)). The chapters after this will be tamer but as always, warnings will be listed before the chapter!

YOUR HEAD POUNDS RELENTLESSLY as you come to, your vision blurry. Your hands are immovable, cold metal biting into your skin. As you attempt to move, you hear the rattling of chains above you which you realize can only mean you've been chained to the ceiling.

You attempt to get your bearings as fast as possible to determine if there's anything within your reach that can help, or anything that might tell you about this guy that you can use to your advantage.

Too slowly, your vision regains it's focus. You quickly analyze your surroundings, the chains that are hooked onto handcuffs on your hands are connected to a hook on the ceiling, the light wood table just to your left has a variety of tools laying upon it, the large barn doors, too far in front of you, the cold straw already numbing your bare feet. You feel lucky that he didn't blindfold you, at least. Small victory.

You look downward, feeling another small victory as you realize you're still clothed. Without a clock, you're unsure of how long you were out and how far your team might be into saving you. It could have only been a few hours, depending on how long the drive here was, how long you were out, and if he kept you out longer. To the left, just beyond the table, a wooden slat on the side of the barn is skewed, allowing you to just slightly determine if it's night or day.

The sun threatens to spill through the barn through the small opening, and you sigh in small relief, assuming that if it's still light out, hopefully it's still the same day and has only been a few hours since your abduction.

The barn door opens slowly and your entire body trembles. You can't decide which could be worse, him taking his time to torture you with the anticipation of what he's gonna do and when, or him bursting in here and getting to work. You decide to settle on the best case scenario for this moment is for him to take his time. The more time he takes, the more time he gives your team.

Your stomach begins to sink as you realize he might feel comfortable taking his time because he's sure he won't be caught. You shake your head quickly to rid of the thought, your team is the absolute best at what they do, there's no way they won't find you. Feeling helpless will not help you survive this.

The wooden doors finally open fully and you try to remember as many details as you can in case you're able to get away. He's wearing a black hoodie, but has the hoodie down this time to reveal jet black hair and a tattoo peaking out across his neck. He's wearing dark blue jeans, the kind most likely worn for farm work or manual labor. They're dirty and ripped in some places. He's wearing dark work boots, but you're unable to see any kind of brand name.

As he begins to walk towards you, you do the only thing you can to distance your mind, you profile. You study his gait, and notice he prefers his left leg over his right, considering you're in a barn and the clothes he's wearing, you bet he probably got injured working on this very farm. For him to bring you here, it must hold some sort of significance to him, most likely where he grew up.

The lack of farming equipment in the barn suggests he either can't do farm work anymore due to his injury, or he has another place for storage and this barn is simply for his disturbed pleasures. Considering his dirty work clothes and that fact that he's a textbook narcissist, you highly doubt even with an injury, he still does some kind of farm work, which also sends a chill down your spine at the thought that his injury does not make him an easy fight.

Once he gets closer, you continue trying to distance yourself from your body. His eyes are hazel, a coppery brown lining the irises. If he wasn't a serial killer who kidnapped you to torture and murder you, you'd probably think his eyes were actually kind of beautiful.

The stubble on his face is only a few days old, a small patch of hair no longer growing due to a scar on his right jaw. The tattoo crawling up his neck looks to be...a rose? An odd choice for a neck tattoo, but to each their own.

He stops mere feet away from you, not close enough for you to reach him which is a smart move on his part, you suppose. You've proven you won't go down without a fight, but hopefully that will make him more reserved with his methods.

A devilish grin spreads across his face and it tightens the knot in your stomach even tighter. He seems to simply be getting off on the fact that he's taking the shots and you have to suffer in anticipation of what's going to happen next. You keep your expression emotionless and devoid of the fear he desperately wants to see from you.

You stare him in the eyes, unwilling to back down or be the first to initiate the beginning of whatever he has planned. You're perfectly fine staring at him for as long as needed if it means giving your team more time to find you and yourself more time to detach.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he starts. He makes no move towards you or to the tools on the table. You try your hardest to keep your emotions off your face and deny him of everything he wants. "Do you remember me?"

You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side. Every action, every thought slowed as much as you can. You hum quietly, trying to seem unbothered to him. "Should I?"

"Yes, you should."

You play your little game again, squinting more this time and turning your head to the other side. You really have never seen this man before, at least not that you know of. You try to rack your brain of all the cashiers, baristas, salesmen, anyone you could have possibly come into contact to as long back as you can remember.

"Maybe you should jog my memory, you did land a pretty hard one. I could be suffering from amnesia."

He barks a laugh. "Do you take me as a fool?"

"Well, considering I'm not sure who you are, what your name is, or really anything about you for that matter, I'm not really sure what I take you as other than a kidnapper and a stalker."

His smile is unfaltering as he studies your face closely. It's almost impossible not to squirm under his gaze.

"I'm offended you don't recognize me, but I guess I have grown up since then."

Grown up? His comment takes you by surprise and you begin to shuffle through all the memories of your childhood as possible. Your parents were killed in a horrific accident when your were 6 years old which landed you in a foster family. Your memories of that time are just fuzzy patches of little moments. You had such a hard time getting through the grief that you holed so deep into yourself that it took years for you to come out, and you haven't wanted to even try to crack open any of those suppressed memories of your childhood.

"I guess I can't blame you back then, it must be hard to lose your parents in such a way."

This time, you can't keep your emotions from running all over your face. How did he know about your parents? You haven't even told your coworkers about it. "Let's try to jog your memory, shall we?" He grins and slowly makes his way towards the tools, knowing you're watching his every move and terrified of what he can do with each of them.

He runs a light finger over each tool before settling on a basic kitchen knife. Of course he would start simple, why get into the fun right away when he wants to make it last? He obviously wants you alive, so he isn't going to kill you outright, but he might just come close to it if he doesn't get what he wants.

He strolls casually towards you as if he's not holding a knife in his hand and about to probably do terrible things with it. He circles you like a predator before stopping directly behind you. You're unable to stop the rising panic at not being able to see him. You flinch as cold metal bites your skin as he traces the exposed flesh of your arms. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, releasing a gasp from your mouth. He glides the blade gently over your back, a shiver sending down your spine. "Do you remember?"

"No."

He tsks and swipes the blade. Sudden pain courses through you as you realize he actually just cut you. He would most likely start shallow, but you don't like the idea of the increasing pain as you further slide into yourself to ignore the pain. "How about now?"

"Pain doesn't help. If you want me to remember, you should use your words instead." You grit out through your teeth.

"What would be the fun in that?"

He swipes the blade again in a different spot and you whimper. You remember the deep breathing Spencer reminded you to do just before your abduction and begin to utilize it. Your mind begins to wander to Spencer and how you just wish he was here to save you from this mess you've somehow put yourself in with actions of your childhood. You wish he was here to profile him and help you understand what they hell you did, what you're supposed to remember, and how to fix this mess.

You begin to imagine Spencer running his gentle hands over where the cuts on your back are, imagining him kissing them better. You close your eyes and picture Spencer in front of you, a sweet hand cupping your cheek, telling you how brave and strong you are.

You're snapped back to reality with another sharp pain, this time in your abdomen. Your eyes snap open and you're met with the gaze of your kidnapper. "No sleeping, just thinking."

You look down at yourself, a shallow wound sliced across the right side of your abdomen. Luckily it's not deep enough to cause any real bleeding, just small droplets poking out the edges of your now split skin. You steel your gaze and raise your eye back to his.

"I already told you, pain does nothing."

"We'll see about that."

He continues toying with you, making short shallow cuts around your body. As he continues, you continue to climb deeper down the hole into yourself until you're picturing Spencer touching you instead of a blade, his hands holding yours, encouraging you to keep going. You play out different scenarios in your head, anything and everything you can think of; telling Spencer that you've had a crush on him these past few years and him confessing the same, marrying him and having little brilliant combinations of you and him running around, all the dates you wish he would take you on, the places you want him to touch you.

"Why don't we play a game?" His voice comes from right in front of you, bringing you back to reality.

"I don't think we have the same definition of the word game."

"I'm going to let you ask any questions you want about who I am, but they're going to be yes or no questions." A creepy smile tugs at his lips. He stays close to you, fiddling with the knife in his hands as if itching for more. "If I say no more than 3 times in a row, I cut deeper and deeper each time."

"You're fucking sick," you spit. He just laughs in your face and says, "Begin."

You try your best to go through your memories, if you're going to play this sick game it'll be on your time.

"Did we meet as kids?" You ask first.

"Yes."

You lose a relieved sigh. "Did we meet before my parents died?"

"No."

The memories after your parents deaths are almost impossible to bring to light and you begin to grow frustrated. "I don't remember after my parents died."

"I don't care. Next question."

You groan and try to think. "Did we go to the same school?"

"No."

Your breath hitches and you remind yourself to tread carefully. The deeper he slices, the longer you'll have reminders of this and you're unsure if you'll be able to handle it. His smile widens, as if he can hear your thoughts and it pleases his sick fucking mind.

"Did anything romantic or sexual ever happen between us?"

His smile falls and you notice a twitch in his jaw. At least his answer to this will help you, if he says no, then he's angry over the fact you rejected his sexual advancements and if he says yes, then he is probably an old jealous boyfriend. "No." Well that solves that, you think.

He wastes no time slashing across your abdomen again, this time you can't stop the grunt that comes out. You don't dare to look down but you can feel the warmth of your blood slowly travel downward towards your pants.

"Did you make a sexual advancement towards me?"

He seems almost hesitant to answer, but eventually says, "Yes."

"Did I reject you?"

"Yes." His knuckles start to turn white as he tightens his grip on the knife.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not!" He roars, grabbing your neck with a rough grip and lifting your face up to meet his. "Look at you now, I could do exactly what I've wanted to do since we met and you can't tell me no this time."

Your eyes widen at his implications. He drops you and sets the knife down on the table lazily. He slowly saunters over to you, running his fingers across all the bare skin he can see, then making his way down towards your pants.

"Get your hands off me!" You growl, bucking wildly, attempting to land some kind of kick to him.

"I don't think I will."

His hand wanders up the nape of your neck and into your hair. He twists your hair between his fingers and yanks. You yelp in shock. "I'll make sure to kill your little crush, when he eventually comes to save you if you keep fighting."

"What?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed. The way you two look at each other, the way you flush when he brushes against you. I know you're thinking of him right now, hoping it'll save you. It won't. I'm going to ruin everything for you so you're not able to enjoy anything with him."

"How long have you been watching me? How do you even know all of this?" You cry out, your heart threatening to break in two at the thought of Spencer's life being at risk because of you. You didn't even know that it was obvious how you felt about Spencer.

"A man never reveals his sources." He whispers, his mouth close to your ear as his breath travels down your neck.

"Please, just don't hurt him."

"Only if you stay still."

A tear slips from your eye and falls down the side of your face as you stare up at the ceiling, his hand still forcing your head backwards. "That's what I thought."

He releases his hand from your hair. You hear the sound of a buckle undoing behind you and you can't help but let the tears flow. You attempt to crawl into yourself, imagining Spencer here with you, telling you all the statistics and smart things he would probably tell you to make you feel better, all the love you so desperately have wanted him to give you. You drop your head and focus on the thought of Spencer.

Hours later, you wake to pure darkness. Your body is sore and your eyes feel tired from the tears that overtook them. You begin to think it might just be nighttime until you realize there's a mask over your face. He left a hole for your mouth, probably to get you to play more games with him that will lead to pain. You feel almost suffocated in it, unable to see if it's day or night, whether he's even in the barn with you currently or not.

Your arms ache from the constant position of them above your head and from the metal handcuffs digging into your flesh. You whimper as you try to move, your body rejecting all movement. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you begin to silently apologize to Spencer. You had no idea that just by simply liking him you've put him in danger, he could easily be in your spot right now if this son of a bitch's priorities had been different. You thought you had kept your feelings towards him pretty chill but your mind runs through all the small interactions you've had and how you acted. You're still unable to think of a reasonable explanation on how he could possibly know so much and how he could've seen you do it all. You don't recognize him from the Bureau so that would leave hacking the surveillance but he also just didn't look like the hacking type.

You allow yourself to fall into an imaginary conversation with Spencer in your head to help keep your sanity.

"You're so brave," you imagine him telling you, his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your hands. "You're the strongest person I've ever met and you inspire me every single day."

"I don't know if I can do this, Spence.."

"Of course you can. You have to. I need you to come back to me."

"I want to..so bad."

"Then do it. Survive this and come home to me, please. I don't think I'd be able to live this life knowing you're not here to experience it with me."

Imaginary Spencer is ripped away from you as a blow is landed to your abdomen. The air from your lungs whooshes from you. He lands a few more, and your body tremblings in fear as you instinctively brace yourself for more. "Having no sight really heightens all your other senses, huh?" He whispers into your ear.

He feels so close to you it makes your skin crawl and you wish for nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to your team eventually finding out where you are. It'll still take them too long, the damage will already be done by then. Then, I can take away all the people who mean the most to you."

"Please.." you croak. "Please, don't hurt them. You already have what you want."

"You might be right about that, but what's a better final blow to you than knowing you caused this and you have to mourn your friends for the rest of your life knowing you're the reason they're not here anymore?"

You choke on your sobs, unable to even get a word out to beg for their lives. You know that you would never forgive yourself if any of them got hurt even though they would tell you it wasn't your fault and that you had no idea. You still can't help feeling guilty anyway.

A day or two pass, maybe. You're unsure if it's only been a day or multiple with the mask constantly on your face. Your kidnapper was generous enough to give you sips of water here and there but your stomach grumbles intensely with hunger. You swear you could probably eat just about anything to get rid of the feeling. Old blood is crusted all over your body and clothing, new blood still warm on your skin and soaking into your clothes. You feel as if you're starting to lose hope, maybe this guy really is too smart and covered his tracks. Even if they do eventually find you, will they find you alive?

You hear slight rustling outside the barn somewhere, your mind too scattered to determine if it's him or maybe some wild animal, or where the sound is even coming from. The barn door explodes open and you can't even find it in you to flinch. "She's here!" You hear a voice yell and within a few seconds, you feel hands over you, some untangling your hands from the handcuffs and chains, others holding you steady once you're released. Your body is so utterly exhausted, your legs give out on you and you fall to the floor. Arms are wrapped around you as they cradle you on the straw floor. "(Y/n)?"

"Take it off.." you whimper out.

"I'm trying..."

"Take it off!" You cry, ripping at the mask with your fingernails.

"(Y/n) please, I'm trying. Hold on.."

The masks finally releases from your face and the light is blinding but the relief is instant. A sob shudders through your body and you curl up into the person on the floor with you and release all the pent up emotions you've kept at bay.

"I'm here, you're safe now." A voice coos, a gentle hand runs through your hair.

Once you have no more tears left to cry, soft hands are placed on the sides of your head as they twist you to look at whoever they belong to.

"Spencer.." you choke. You swear you could cry again at the sight of him. You throw your aching arms around his neck and he embraces you tightly. "I'm so sorry..."

"(Y/n), why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"He..he told me he would hurt you, all of you, if I fought back."

Spencer's face is slick with tears and he squeezes you tighter into him. "I'm here."

You lift your face to look at his and he meets your gaze with sad eyes. The bags under his eyes tell you he probably hasn't left since your abduction. "Spencer.."

"Yes, love?"

"The only thing that got me through...what he did, was you." You confess, feeling your tears restock and begin swarming your eyes again.

His lip quivers as he digests your confession. "I am so sorry."

"You found me," is all you can say back.

Spencer releases you from his embrace as paramedics rush to your side. "Don't leave.." you whine, reaching for his hand as you lay on your cut up back. "I'm here," he says, grabbing your outstretched hand and squeezing as the medics begin their work of patching up all your wounds and transferring you to a stretcher.

Spencer doesn't drop your hand while you're rolled to the ambulance or while the medics continue to work on you during the ride to the hospital.

"I love you," you whisper, unsure if he could even hear you. You're unable to find out before sleep consumes your exhausted mind and body.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @jay-2s-world

[whiskeyghoul]

8 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First part, previous part, next part

A/N: Oh we are so back. This is mostly just angst, including the return of Tommy. Not a lot of Spencer in this one but the next one is going to be from his perspective. I really needed just a little angst in this fic again. I hope to be writing part 9 soon since I am in a bit of a writers block for this fanfic. But then again I really love writing for it too.

WC: 3,1 K

Tags: Spencer Reid, kidnapping, toxic exes, not proof read, we die like men, angst, hurt comfort but the comfort comes later.

Warnings: Kidnapping, mental instability, stalking, drugging

Your POV

You had watched Spencer leave into a room, a sigh leaving your lips as he closed the door behind him. Returning to the lab to finish your work felt a little tiresome. You wanted to spend more time with Spencer. Time that was so rudely cut short with a case. It was to be expected, but that didn't mean you had to like it. So, begrudgingly, you made your way to the lab. Getting in to wait for another process to finish, while polishing off the final remnants of your sandwich. Looking around the desk you saw the different reports that needed organizing. It was messy, and chaotic. Sometimes you would lose a document for a few moments before panicking and frantically looking through all the papers you had. That had to change. Now was as good a time as any.

While organizing your papers alphabetically your eyes landed on Spencer's purple scarf slung over the back of the desk chair. Running a hand over the fabric. It was soft, incredibly so even. A few worn edges added character, showing how well loved the scarf had been over the years. Picking it up you put it up to your nose, inhaling the warm scent that was so completely Spencer. It was a comforting scent. The smell of sweet coffee, cologne, and that signature scent of his apartment you had smelled while you were there. Feeling a little creepy about smelling his clothes you quickly put it down after folding it into a small bundle. Placing it on the edge of your desk to not forget.

Going back to your desk you noticed something was just a little off. You remember that the coffee cup from that morning was missing. It wasn’t unusual for garbage to be removed by cleaning staff. Just not usually during your shift. Oftentimes they would come in at the end of the day, when you would have put all dangerous substances away so no one would accidentally spill anything. There were measures in place to keep everyone safe. So why was your cup missing?

No. There was no need to be skeptical about something as simple as this. You must have thrown it away subconsciously before you left to get lunch. That was the logical explanation to this. So you shook off the uncomfortable feeling. There was no more reason to be suspicious of the small things. You were a bit scatterbrained at times, so it was only normal for you to forget something as small as this. Especially since your mind had been on Spencer for most of the day. Having made up had left you on cloud nine. When he had come in that morning it just made you realize how sweet he is, how forgiving of your flaws that you were so critical of. You never expected him to forgive you when you had hurt him quite badly. So it was like a dream that he did. And that had left you just a little preoccupied. Misplacing or misremembering something wasn’t that far of a stretch. 

The beep of the analyser got your attention. Walking over you hit the printer button, out came a print out of all the chemical components detected in the white powder. Giving it a quick once over to have a look at the majority of substance, it was always tainted along the way. Sometimes by the general use and existence of the material, sometimes by the less than careful collection of whatever they wanted to be analyzed. Taking a look it seemed to have been ecstasy, tainted by a few wayward chemicals. Nothing that would cause death but still, it could lead to a possible suspect. Moving back to the desk you looked around for the designated case folder.

It wasn’t there. You looked between the ones you just moved. Maybe you left it between the older files. Alphabetical order was the easiest after all. Managing to do it nearly on autopilot you might have just stacked it in the finished pile. So, you picked them up, thumbing through the different manilla folders starting with the same letter. Nope… must have looked over it. You tried again, making sure that you saw each and every single one. Still, it wasn’t there. Okay, maybe you did leave it in the pile on your desk. Your pulse quickened as you looked through the files but still, not the one you needed. The cleaners know not to take these. This is when you started to panic just a little. Moving between your desk and other tables in the lab, checking every file cabinet in there for the one you needed. Still there was no sign of it. Fuck.

Your phone rang. Snapping your head up you scrambled from a pile of files you had been rummaging through. Spencer’s caller ID lit up the screen. Picking up you quickly pinned the phone between your cheek and shoulder, “Hey, pretty boy, what’s up?” you asked, a little breathless, while going back to the papers to try and find what you were looking for. “Hey. We just got to the local station and I wanted to call. I felt bad about having to leave without really saying goodbye.” You noted how Spencer’s voice sounded a little hushed, how the background noise was muffled. “That’s okay. I am glad you called though. I like hearing your voice.” You said while continuously shuffling papers. “Are you busy? I could call back another time.” He asked, probably hearing the papers. “No, no!” You said before readjusting the phone to your other ear. “I just.. I lost the file I was working on. I must have misplaced it so I am a bit stressed looking for it.” Admitting to your fault. “Oh, I would have helped if I could.” Spencer said before you heard Morgan’s voice in the back, calling out to Spencer jokingly. “It’s okay, hearing your voice makes me feel a bit better.” You responded with a hint of shyness. It was easier to admit these things over the phone than to his face. 

“I really wanted to hear from you too.” Spencer said before a whispered, “Morgan! stop!” Which made you laugh. “How does the case look? Will it be a long one?” You asked, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping to hear him speak more. His voice eases any worry in your mind. Like a placating balm to smooth over any uncomfortability. “Actually, it seems like it might be easier than expected. Though I don’t want to jinx it and then have to be stuck here for the foreseeable future.” he answered. “Better knock on wood then.” You added to his sentence, really hoping he would be back sooner rather than later. “I will, once I get to the desk. I really have to go though, because Morgan is being annoying.” he said, a bit remorseful. “I’ll text you soon. Maybe call later tonight?” You asked and heard a mh-hm from the other side of the line. “Okay.. Bye, talk to you soon.” “Bye.”

When you hung up it really settled in you weren’t going to find this file you were looking for. Which meant there would be a ton more paperwork, a new file, which meant over time. So you made your way down to whoever could help you with this file, explaining the situation you got a new version along with an entire packet of paperwork to fill in to ‘officially’ request a copy of the file. Getting back to the lab you sat down, ready to start the tedious task of correctly filling in everything.

It was late when you finished. Almost dark outside the clock indicating it was 7:30 p.m. At least your paperwork was finished. With a sigh you closed it. Stretching back your arms with a groan. Sitting hunched never did wonders for your body. A growl from your stomach signaled it was really time to get going. As you packed your bag you thought about the leftover pasta bolognese you had in your fridge, just how good it sounded right about now. With the paperwork in hand you left the lab, locking up behind you and heading down. Spencer´s purple scarf was loosely wrapped around your neck. Leaving the filled in forms in the designated inbox of the higherup who needed to officially grant your request. Everything was always so bureaucratic. You texted Spencer you were finally leaving Quantico, getting a ‘But isn’t it almost 8?’ back from him. You chuckled, ‘Couldn’t find the file I talked about, so had to get a replacement, you know how much paperwork that takes.’ you texted back nuzzling your nose into the soft fabric of his scarf. Inhaling the smell, feeling a little better with it around you, like he was there to joke about the file, say it was okay.

Saying goodbye to the security guard before you headed to the parking garage, your car was one of 5 left on the floor. When you got in and turned the key in the ignition it ticked but never caught on. You sighed, of fucking course this was to happen now. You already had a stressful day, this was just the cherry on top. You slammed your hands against the wheel quickly before taking the key out, popping the hood, and stepping out. You opened the hood, seeing your car battery disconnected, your heart sank. This is weird.

Panic rose like bile in your throat. Your heartbeat raced as your hands trembled. Everything inside of you told you to run. Yet your feet were nailed in place. Rooted to the ground, unable to move. Not wanting to look up in case something, or someone was close by. From the corner of your eye, however, you saw movement. A black clad figure moving closer. You gripped the strap of your bag, a trembling hand moving into the pocket of your jacket. Taking the key in a firm grip, in case of emergency it could be used as a weapon. But it was of no use, when the figure got close you turned with the key in hand. Raising your right hand to hit the figure, to embed the tip of your key into any soft tissue you could reach, but your wrist was caught in a quick movement. Your eyes widened as you recognized the face that stood in front of you.

Tommy.

You gasped his name out while trying to wring your hand out of his grip. “I’m sorry.” He managed to say before you felt a pinch in your left arm. Confusion, panic, fear, those emotions washed over you as you realized what just happened. He had drugged you. You could feel the way your arm grew heavy, along with your breathing labored. Trying not to panic because that would just make everything work faster. You still struggled against his hold but he had you pinned against your car. There was nowhere to run to. You just prayed the security cameras were picking up what was happening. Tommy wasn't that smart to shut down the cameras too, you hoped. “You’re not sorry.” your voice sounds slurred. It became more difficult to keep your eyes open, to keep standing straight. “I just can’t lose you.” He almost sounded apologetic as his arm moved to keep you upright. “Fuck you.” Was the last thing you managed before your eyes betrayed you. Darkness took over, and your body went limp in the arms of your worst enemy. 

Blinking rapidly didn’t seem to do anything. Vision still black you felt your hands were tied behind your back. There was a sore spot on the left one. The way you had been sat had your head tilted forward and your neck was now incredibly stiff. You were on a chair for sure. Blindfolded and tied up. You tried to stay calm, to not let your emotions take over. But your heartbeat was fast, loud in your ears, it made it hard to focus. You didn’t know how long it had been but it must have been some time. Your phone was no longer in your pocket, at least you didn’t feel it. The scarf around your neck was gone, Spencer’s scarf. Panic over took you again. Breathing picking up in short, quick bursts. “Don’t panic, please. You always overreacted.” Tommy’s voice sounded out. Your head shot up, craning around, trying to locate where he was. “Me? Overreacting? Tommy, you kidnapped me!” You said exasperated, while your hands were straining against the rope that had your wrist stuck to the chair. “Well you wouldn’t have come with me if I asked.” You groaned at that answer, clearly your wishes to never see him again weren’t clear enough of a hint. “Because you hurt me! I never wanted to see you again.” You raised your voice, trying to not yell but you were frustrated, scared, panicked.

“Just… ugh! You aren’t even listening to what I want to say!” Tommy sounded frustrated. Suddenly his hands grabbed your shoulders, he had been closer than you thought. His grip an iron vice as your body stiffened. Breath caught in your throat. “Okay. Okay. I’m listening. That’s what you wanted, right? So say what you need to say.” You said, trying to calm down. Logically you knew you shouldn’t be indulging him. But you knew that egging him on would make things worse. He was explosive, angry, that’s what happened every time. “Right. I need you to listen. Because, I have been thinking.” Tommy started, his hands still holding onto your shoulders. You could feel the breath on your skin, it was humid. Like a wolf looming over its prey, panting out to finally have caught dinner. “I think. You shouldn’t be with that guy. He is a twig, I could be so much better. We could work things out if you gave me a try. You are going to give it a try.” He sounded almost out of breath as he spoke. As he tried to get his thoughts in order. “I have given it a try, but it didn't work. Tommy, you haven’t changed. At all. So why would it work now?” You answered, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear but it was important for him to hear it. Your emotions flipping like a switch, wanting to placate him and then wanting to tell the truth, to egg him on. The heartbeat under your skin felt like a drum against your ribs. Hammering a constant rhythm of anxiety. “No, I have changed. You just didn’t give me a chance to show it. Going on and on about how I have been stalking you. I haven’t! I have changed and you are going to let me show it to you.” His grip tightened before he let go. You could hear his feet, pacing around, probably with his hands in his hair. Like he did when he was frustrated with you. He always did.

“You can’t keep me here. The FBI will come looking when I don’t show up tomorrow.” You strained your wrists, trying to feel if there was a knot you could loosen. But it felt like zip tie cuffs. Plasticy, hard and digging painfully. “You called in sick with a really bad stomach bug. It will take at least a week.” He swallowed after his answer, walking a few steps away to rummage through something. With the blind fold on you could see a little strip of light as you looked down, though it was relatively dark probably due there being no windows. No he wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep you somewhere with windows. It would be too big a risk, and he did not seem like he wanted to lose you. In your mind you hoped he hadn’t texted Spencer, hoping that he’d try to call you later tonight like you had agreed upon. If you didn’t answer he would probably figure something was wrong. If he did text him something you prayed it was so out of character that it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Right… and after that week?” You asked, hoping to keep him talking, keeping him talking would keep him from hurting you. That seemed most logical at least. “You will see how good I am to you. You won’t want to leave anymore.” Tommy said, “And if you don’t I’ll just tell them a family member died, request a leave of absence.” He continued and the rummaging stopped. Your heart dropped, not knowing what to expect at that moment. It could be something to hurt you with, something to shut you up, no matter what you did there was going to be something. More footsteps. It kept your heart rate up that was for sure. Something clamped around your ankle, cold, metal. Thick and heavy, the weight pressed down on your foot. “You can move around like this. Can’t make you love me again when you’re stuck to a chair.” He almost chuckled at that. The sound made your stomach feel heavy. Like he didn’t seem to care about your wellbeing. Blood running cold at that. Like a polar stream running through your body. “Move around?” Your voice sounded strained. Throat closed and breathing tight.

He stepped around you, you could feel the air shift as he moved. Stepping to the back his hands were on your wrists. “Yes. You have to promise you won’t try to hurt me. Otherwise you’re right back in this chair again.” Now that was something you didn’t want. Being stuck in place, physically unable to move, it was the worst choice. When released at least you could move around. Get a feel of the place. Find a way out. “Right… I promise.” You said it slowly, deliberately. Each word out of your mouth needs to be thought out from now. Using words to placate. Fight, flight, freeze or fawn. And with Tommy, fawn seemed to be your best option. Keeping him friendly would give you time. 

Your hands were released from their cuffs, the blind fold removed from your eyes. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light of the room. You were sitting in a wooden chair, you had figured as much. There were no windows, 2 doors, one on your left and one right in front of you. The carpet on the floor was a weird  green color that looked like it had been stained one too many times by something unknown. There was a small living room area, two couches with a coffee table. A kitchenette on the opposite wall. Turning your head you saw a dining room table. It was like you were in a weirdly small studio apartment. Everything was there to live. You glanced down, your right leg sporting a metal cuff, a chain going off to the wall. “Welcome home.” Tommy said it almost triumphantly, proud of his work.

It hit you like a ton of bricks. Tommy was going to keep you here as a forced housewife. And you just prayed Spencer would realize what was going on quickly.

Tags:

@luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95 @jasf444

@tootsiefootsie @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna   @suckstobrlaurie @mega-kittyglitter-1 @superlegend216 @seninjakitey

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Spencer Reid x Autistic son reader

So sorry for taking so long to write this oneshot!

Requested by : Larri6ox

Request: Spencer is a dad to a 14 year old boy he is autistic and someone was stalking Spencer and yn one day after school he gets kidnapped Spencer was spiraling and the team searched for yn while that was going on yn was tied to a pole beaten and tasered it took the team 4 days to find yn Spencer ripped to the ropes off yn while the rest took down the unsub yn clung to his dad crying and overwhelmed he couldn't even speak Spencer comforted yn as the paramedics fixed him up yn slept in Spencer's arms when they got home yn was to scared to sleep by himself around 3 am yn woke up screaming from a nightmare Spencer woke up and held yn to comfort him yn was muttering about an accident Spencer got the hint that yn wet himself Spencer calms him down and helps yn get cleaned up they slept on the couch watching Tom and Jerry.

This is a long request, hope you like it.

Third person pov...

In the twilight's embrace, as the city buzzed with activity, a sinister plot unfolded, targeting an innocent youth named Y/N.

Y/N Reid was walking home from school when he found himself the unwilling target of a sinister stalker. Unbeknownst to him, a shadowy figure had been pursuing Special Agent Spencer Reid's beloved child, leaving Y/N vulnerable.

On that fateful day, as Y/N strolled home along the familiar path, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his movements purposeful and menacing. Y/N's heart pounded with fear as he realized he was being followed.

Panic consumed him as he broke into a desperate run, his small legs carrying him as fast as he could.

But the unsub, his relentless pursuer, was closing in. The air grew thick with terror as Y/N's cries for help went unanswered. "Help me! Please!" He cries though knowone could hear him.

In a secluded alleyway, the unsub lay in wait. With a swift and ruthless move, he snatched Y/N and disappeared into the night.

Spencer, at his wits' end with worry, spiraled into a desperate search. The BAU team rallied around him, leaving no stone unturned.

Bound and helpless, he was tethered to a desolate pole, his body wracked with pain from relentless beatings and electric shocks. The cruel tormentors lingered nearby, their twisted minds devising further atrocities.

The unsub laughed as the boys screamed echoes through the dark warehouse.

The piercing screams of the taser echoed through the desolate space, leaving his body battered and broken. Fear gnawed at his soul as he endured unimaginable pain.

Y/N thought of his dad, he thought how he wouldn't give up on him, he knew he would save him he had too.

For days, the BAU searched tirelessly, their hearts heavy with each passing hour, Y/Ns absence tugged at their very souls. Especially Spencer, the man had forgot to sleep, eat.

He never left the bullpen he his only thought was Y/N, he had to find his son, then finally on the fourth day, a breakthrough emerged from the darkness. A tip led them to the warehouse where the H/C boy was being held captive.

With lightning speed, Spencer raced through the labyrinthine corridors, his determination fueled by the desperate hope of finding his child alive. As he burst into the warehouse, a sight met his eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

A pipe stood in the middle of the dark room, the smell was awful filled with sweat and dried blood. His eyes filled with anger. "Y/N!" He yells racing over to the likp body.

"Don't be dead don't be dead" he muttered as he neared the limp body of his Son.

Y/N was tied to the pole, his body bruised and battered, hung helpless from the pole. Spencer's heart shattered as he ripped the ropes from his son's frail body.

The boy fell limply into his Dad's arms, Spencer quickly covered the boy and held him tightly. "Shush shush its okay Baby, I'm here I'm here " he mumbled in the H/C hair dried blood stuck to the strands.

He held his son in his arms, the boy shaking as if it was winter, the agent could tell his was overwhelmed and didn't push him to talk only happy that he was alive.

As the boy was cut from his bonds the rest of the team swiftly apprehended the unsub, their rage a palpable force in the air.

Spencer held his precious boy close, offering him a safe haven from the nightmare he had endured, he continued to carry the boy out of the warehahouse and outside where the paramedics were waiting, they had been called before hand.

As they worked Spencer held his son, the boy had found solace in the gentle presence of his protector, grateful he was safe and finally not being hurt.

The warmth of his dad's arms and the gentle sway of their bodies brought a sense of serenity amidst the turmoil, he fell into the light sleep.

Back at home, it took Spencer a few hours to get the boy to sleep, Y/N had been on edge and awake for four days straight, but once he was asleep it was almost 1am, Spencer kept the door open slightly so he would hear if the boy had a nightmare.

The man situated himself in the living room, on the sofa he sat with a book in his hands, hearing any sounds that came from his son's room, he was ready to leap up and go to his son if he needed.

Hours later he awoke with a scream of pure anguish, A nightmare had gripped him, his body jerking and his voice filled with anguish as he whispered of an accident.

Tangled in his sheets he attempted to run but couldn't, bejng stuck reminded him of the ropes.

After hearing the scream Spencer had leaped from the sofa throwing his book away he ran to his Son room, throwing the door open he saw the boy was stuck, the covers had wrapped around his ankle.

Seeing the problem Spencer quickly unwrapped the blanket trapping the boy, leg now free Y/N woke up fully.

Looking around breathing heavy. "Daddy!" He cries hands out reaching for his Dad, Spencer quickly sat down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

"It's okay N/N, it's me its Dad" at that Y/N relaxed and slumped into the man's arms, Spencer rubbed his back before pulling the boy into his arms, appealing enought pressure that made Y/N feel safe.

After a few minutes Spencer tried to get Y/N to release him but the boy wouldn't budge. "Y/N, is something wrong?" He whispers, the boy nods his head. He mutters something into his Dad's shoudler.

The young Dr is confused before he sees the wet ost where his son was sleeping, he then realises, comforting the boy he clean up the remnants of his nightmare, changing his soiled clothes and tending to his shaken body.

Once he was done Y/N still wouldn't let go of him, realising he was still scared Spencer took him to the living room. He also grabbed numerous pillows and soft blankets for them and set them on the sofa.

As they settled back on the couch, Reid held Y/N close, his heart aching with both love and protectiveness, he put on Y/Ns favourite cartoon Tom and Jerry.

Together, they drifted off to sleep on the couch, Spencer laying his back to the arm of the sofa, on top rest his son tucked into his chest breathing normal, no longer shaking from the nightmare, the animated antics of Tom and Jerry providing a soothing backdrop to their weary minds.

The end!

Finished hoped you liked this oneshot so sorry for the wait, as usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes!

Requests are open!

Word count : 1365

[theflowerrooms]

His Game • Spencer’s masterlist • main masterlist

Stockholm Syndrome

chapter 5 • back to chapter 4

chapter summary; testing each other, learning about your own trust. You’re developing some type of positive feeling toward Spencer, and he’s quick to prove to you just how much he appreciates it.

warnings: dark themes, smut, kidnapping, manipulative behaviour, dubcon, overstimulation, dacryphilia, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), unprotected sex, marking

wordcount: 4K

The room was dark when you woke up, hummed and stretched, arms covering the expanse of the bed. the opposite side of the bed wasn’t made, where Spencer had slept after the movies.

You basked in the bed that smelled like Spencer, smelled like your captor. You smiled and pressed your face into his pillow, it smelled even more like him. You remembered his lips on your lips, his hands on your waist.

A loud slam, the heavy door close outside. He’d gone. Your stomach dropped. You remembered him pistol-whipping you, remembered his thumb pressing into your wound.

  You scrambled out of bed, eyes brimming with tears. You hated to be alone, you wanted so badly for him to just stay. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, you pulled it open, sighing loudly with relief when you saw him there.

  The understanding of the danger and severity of your situation was lost from you the second you locked eyes with him. Your chest burning with a pleasurable warmth and the tears in your eyes shifting into a comfortable glaze.

  "Good morning Angel." He greeted you, smile on his thin lips. He placed a takeout bag on the small island and you deduced that the sound of the door closing was him returning rather than leaving. You watched him pull food from the bag, fresh, straight from the diner you loved so much.

  You smiled sweetly and walked over to him, sitting at the island where he placed the food in front of you. You thanked him and he smiled wider at you.

  He stood behind you as you ate, moving your hair so it wouldn't rub against your skin as he pet it. One of his hands pet your hair and the other rested against your collarbone, encouraging you to lean back against his chest.

  It was so comfortable, warm and safe. It was terribly domestic, him loving on you while you ate food he got for you because he knew you loved it. It was enough to take away from the fact that you were being pet by your kidnapper, no idea where you were.

  When you finished, you leaned back against Spencer's chest completely. He hummed softly and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you and kissing the crown of your head. "I have to go."

  "What?" You pouted up at him before he'd even finished speaking and he pouted back at you, half mockingly.

  "I have to go, for work." He said shortly and you huffed. You really didn't want him to leave. You feel like you should be grateful that you get to be left alone, that Spencer would leave. But you dreaded it. Those five days he was gone drove you insane.

  Somewhere in the back of your mind also, you knew that if he wasn't there with you, you would have some clarity, you would be fully aware of how scared you should be, how dangerous Spencer is. You didn't want that clarity.

He grabbed a notebook and pen from his satchel and sat next to you. "You need more things to do when you're alone, I know that you'll get bored quickly, I imagine it was difficult while I was gone before." He spoke and you nodded.

With that you and Spencer curated a list of things he could bring back for you. Movies to watch, a sketchbook and drawing supplies, toys for Milo, cards, and a few other small things. You were grateful and looked forward to the new things. You were so lucky you figured. You saw so many kidnapping victims who were dirty and hurt, used, cold and hungry. But here you were, warm and clean, full from food you loved, writing up a list of things so you could have more fun. And the bruise Spencer gave you was almost entirely healed.

You started to feel sick, remembering the kidnapping victims you'd saved, the ones you hadn't saved. People just like you who'd been taken by people just like Spencer.

Spencer tapped your chin and you turned to look at him, the eye contact working wonders for your new anxiety. You didn't feel any resentment to him, no fear, you no longer felt sick. Still you felt more aware.

"Do you want me to bring any books for specific topics? So you can study? That could be fun." It was a very 'Spencer' thing, studying for fun. "You're interested in learning about entomology, right?" You nodded and he wrote it down. "What else?"

"Stockholm Syndrome." You rasped and the look Spencer gave you made your blood run cold.

"Do you think you are developing Stockholm syndrome?" You couldn't read his emotions at all. You heard excitement, remorse, guilt, disgust, hope.

"I don't know. Let me learn more about it and we'll find out." You had an attitude that hadn't been there since the first day you arrived.

"Are you developing Stockholm Syndrome?" He asked again, tense.

"When was the last time you went to see your mother?" You asked. You weren't concerned about his mother, you wanted to redirect him, bring up his mom so he would stop interrogating his victim.

And still, the look of guilt and sadness that took over his face made you regret it. His shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth dipped down just slightly.

You frowned and timidly brought a hand to his face, holding his cheek gently and flinching when he leaned toward your touch. "I'm sorry Spencer." Your voice broke, you wanted to cry. You hated that you made him upset, you were terrified that he'd hurt you as punishment.

"It's alright angel." He put the list in his pocket and stood, you stood with him, following him to the door.

You pouted up at him, you still didn't really want him to leave. He smiled down at you and leaned down to kiss your forehead. You leaned up into his lips and he smiled against your skin. He proceeded to look over your face after that, gaze switching between your eyes and lips. He leaned down and kissed you. Deeper than last night, hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into him. You sighed against his lips and he pushed his tongue past your lips, kissing you until you whined softly and he pulled back.

"I'll see you tomorrow angel." A smile and then he left. You teared up as the door closed. Your heart pounded against your chest, syncing with the sound of each eight locks locking behind him.

You wished he'd come back. Wished he'd decide to just give up on work, throw away his life like he'd thrown away yours and come back and be with you.

Because quickly, you were all too aware again of how lonely, isolated and scared you were.

✽-

Were you developing Stockholm syndrome? For now you settled on no. Nobody who had Stockholm syndrome was consciously and blatantly aware of it. And you were sure that you couldn't possibly have Stockholm syndrome because you would have to be convinced that you were in love with Spencer, and you for sure were not.

You rested on the soft couch, curled up in a blanket. 9pm. You'd had a small nap way earlier and made yourself dinner, and now you sat comfortably, rewatching Scream, cup of warm tea in your hand.

It was the sex scene between Sidney and Billy playing before you, and it made you feel a way you hadn't before. Warmth in your stomach watching the way he touched her. You craved intimacy like that, you hated being alone like this. You wished Spencer would quit the BAU and stay with you full time. You shook your head at yourself. You wished the BAU would find you and bring you home, and then you wouldn't ever be alone, you could have intimacy from anyone, not Spencer.

Spencer. You watched Billy kiss Sidney, it made you think of the way Spencer kissed you, how he asked first, how he didn't kiss you before you were ready. You had been so lucky, Spencer was an incredible captor, so sweet to you.

You could hear footsteps, locks turning and your heart jumped in your chest. What if you'd been found? Unlikely, but maybe that door would open and Derek would be behind it, or Hotch, or even some ordinary police officer.

It wasn't, it was Spencer. And surprisingly you felt relief that it was him instead of someone coming to your rescue. You didn't even process your own thoughts before you placed your tea on the coffee table and raced over to Spencer, face buried into his chest and arms around his waist.

He chuckled lowly and held you close to himself, burying his face into the crown of your head and inhaling deeply. He pressed kisses to the part in your hair and hummed. "I missed you angel."

You just hummed in response, telling him you missed him too without verbally admitting it, which you weren't sure you could. He cupped your cheeks and lifted your face so he could look into your eyes.

He held eye contact with you for a lengthy moment. It was a strange gesture that you figured most people wouldn't understand, you hardly did. What you did understand was that Spencer struggled with eye contact, and still he pushed himself to make eye contact with you, for you.

He kissed your forehead, then between your eyebrows, leaving a trail of kisses down the bridge of your nose before he found your lips, kissing you deeply, tongue chasing yours.

You blushed and moved away from him when it got too much, stomach flipping and heart pounding, face sure to be deep red. You looked down at your feet and he held your chin, turning your face up to look at him.

"How was your day my angel?" He asked, hand gliding down your back to the hem of your shirt, his hand slid up under the fabric and he stroked your back softly.

"Good. Long." You sighed. I missed you. "I like it better when you're here." You whispered, as if anyone aside from Spencer and your cat would hear you. Your heart soared and the look your words brought to Spencer's face, brown eyes filled with appreciate and wonder.

"Everything is better when I'm with you angel. That's why I needed to take you here." He brushed your hair behind your ear with his free hand and you nodded in understanding, in agreement.

Spencer was a good man. And he'd gone through so much, if you made things better for him, he deserved to keep you.

You went through the bag of things Spencer brought with him to occupy you when he was away. More movies and some cards and art supplies. You placed the books on entomology and Stockholm Syndrome on a shelf. You wouldn't open the Stockholm Syndrome books you'd decided, you're smart, you're a profiler with the FBI, you would know if you had Stockholm Syndrome.

Now you sat on the floor, you and Milo playing with a wand Spencer had gotten him while the man put together a scratch post for the cat, wide smile on his face as he watched you.

You smiled and laughed watching Milo. That's how amazing Spencer was, he didn't need to bring Milo, didn't need to spend money on him, but he did, for you. You were so lucky.

You remembered how scared you were when you thought Spencer might have killed him. You remembered how guilty you felt that Spencer killed your neighbour, but you knew he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't needed to.

  'Derek does not matter anymore' You remembered him saying that, for the first time since he arrived from work, you felt uneasy. "Spencer?" You got his attention. "When we were fighting, you said Derek didn't matter anymore. Did- did you do something to him?" You didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. "I'm only asking 'cause he's like my brother. I don't love him like that- like the way you love me." Your voice shook, eyes brimming with tears.

  He took a moment to answer you, each passing second leading you to be more and more worried he had killed Derek. "No. Derek's fine, I didn't hurt him- I meant that he doesn't matter because all you need now is-is me, I brought you here and you're mine, I'm all that matters." He didn't raise his voice at you like you'd expected, he didn't seem very angry, more anxious.

  "You do matter Spencer." You reassured him, chewing on your lip and petting Milo. "I just was worried about him, I'm sorry." You looked down at your cat, purring in your lap, you didn't want Spencer to see the tears rolling down your face, but he did anyway.

  "I promise Derek's alright. He's worried about you, and he misses you. But you're perfectly fine right?" He sniffed and you nodded as he stood. "Alright angel, come here." He ordered and you listened, immediately going over to him. A small part of you worried he'd hurt you, a large part of you was thrilled when all he did was pull you into his arms. "You don't have to be sorry for how you feel angel, it's okay to worry about the people out there. Do you understand? No apologies." He spoke softly and you nodded. He kissed the top of your head and his lips turned in a smile. "It's getting late darling, let's head to bed.

✽-

  You looked at your clock, 4:12AM. The lights were off and you were comfy in your bed with Spencer asleep, arm thrown over your side, Milo sleeping soundly at your feet.

It was so cold, you huffed as you moved closer to Spencer, failing to get any extra warmth. You pushed his arm that was weighing you down and slid out of the bed, intending to get a blanket off of the couch to add to the pile of blankets on the bed. When you walked toward your open bedroom door, you immediately noticed it.

The door to the exit was wide open. You looked back at Spencer and Milo before you sped over to it. There was a wooden staircase that lead up to an open hatch, the star filled night sky behind it.

You looked back to your open bedroom door, you could see the shape of Spencer in your bed, still asleep. Your legs shook as you bounded up the stairs. Collapsing at the very top one, sitting down and heaving breaths of fresh air.

You reached an arm out and touched the damp grass, breathed in the chilly air, stared up at the stars and the moon that you had unknowingly missed so terribly.

It was a moment before it dawned on you that you could leave. You looked around, in the woods somewhere with no idea how to get home. Still it was a chance. You could put Milo in his carrier and leave. Find your way back to home, to Derek and the rest of your family.

You refused to reflect on the way you felt, the way you weighed your options, and the idea of leaving Spencer scared you more than the idea of staying with him.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as you closed the hatch and went back down the stairs. You rubbed at your warm cheeks after you closed to door to the exit. You chewed your lip as you rushed back into the bedroom, immediately climbing back into the bed with Spencer.

You held the blanket in fists as you pressed your back against Spencer’s chest with force, exhaling a sigh of relief when his arm snaked around your waist again.

“You could’ve left.” His voice startled you despite how quietly he whispered. You bit down on your lip and turned to face him, hiding your face against the column of his throat.

“I know.” Your voice shook and he held you close to him. “I didn’t want to… I really liked seeing the stars out there though. And- and the moon.” Spencer could feel your tears wetting his shirt and he kissed the top of your head before twisting so you lay flat on your back and he hovered over you.

“Thank you for staying.” He whispered, eyes glossy. He kissed you, a quick gentle peck before he stared into your eyes. Then his hand was on your throat, kissing you harder and deeper than he had before.

In a matter of seconds you were panting and keening toward him. His thigh slotted between yours and you hadn’t even noticed that you’d been rubbing yourself against his thigh until his hand moved from your throat to your hips, guiding you, swallowing the soft and needy whimpers that left your throat.

Lips fell from yours to your neck. “Thank you so much Angel. So good for me- gonna let me thank you?” His voice had a needy rasp that had you reeling, nodding your head as fast as you could. You felt him smile against the warm skin of your neck. “Words baby, let me hear that pretty voice.” And you gasped as he immediately began to suck on your pulse point.

“Yes, Spencer. Please.” You stumbled over each word that left your mouth, whining for him. He happily obliged, leaving kisses and hickeys down your neck until he got to your collarbone. He shuffled further down, pressing your shirt up to your chin. He groaned and wet his lips with his tongue.

“Pretty angel.” He rasped, hands gripping your sides roughly while he took a nipple in his mouth. He hummed around it and you moaned, you could feel his bulge growing beneath his pants. He left hickeys over your sternum, your stomach. And then he quickly pulled your pants and underwear down and off.

It startled you, but you were too needy to care. He hadn’t asked, but you were sure he’d stop if you asked him to.

His hands were warm on your thighs as he spread them, and you didn’t have time to be nervous or insecure before he was gliding his tongue through your folds and capturing your clit between his lips, moaning around it.

You moaned in return, legs shaking on either side of his head. Everything felt so intense. Because you hadn’t been touched like this in so long, because for such a long time since you got here, you’d only been touched at all by Spencer. You depended on him for intimacy and you yearned for his hands on you.

He moaned against you again and it shot vibrations and hot energy up your stomach and spine. He sucked your clit and shook his head from side to side, you couldn’t control your hips bucking up against Spencer’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind it one bit, he yearned for it.

A whine began to leave your kiss swollen lips, breaking half way and turning into a moan when Spencer inserted his index finger into your cunt. He didn’t go slow, but that didn’t matter. You were so wet and desperate, ready for him, that it just slid in with no resistance, your body took him in immediately, clenching desperately around his one finger.

Never would you verbally admit it, pressing back against his mouth and hand, not physically capable of getting any words out, you desperately wanted more. Another finger, for him to go faster. It didn’t seem you had to ask for anything because he already knew what you needed.

In one fluid motion, he added his middle finger alongside his first one, fucking them in and out of you at a faster pace. You were already overloaded on pleasure before he started flicking his tongue fast over your clit, simultaneously crooking his fingers upward and bullying your g-spot.

You were practically screaming. “Please, please, please… god… please-” your begging turned to incoherent rambling and that on its own turned Spencer on beyond belief, hips pressing his cock against the mattress for some relief.

Your whole body felt tense, freezing and hot at the same time. Your legs tried to close, push Spencer out but he held your left thigh down with his palm, keeping you in place. “Come on sweet Angel, you got it, cum for me.” He mumbled against your heat, voice heavy.

That’s all it took before the coil deep inside your stomach snapped and you screamed, hips shaking and legs locking behind Spencer’s head as you came.

All of your muscles seized up and relaxed repeatedly as came, and you hardly had any time to actually come down from your orgasm before Spencer was kissing you and you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt- still raw from your orgasm.

“Spencer- ‘s too sensitive.” You whimpering, raising your head as much as you could to look at where you met below your waists. He was much bigger than you’d expected, intimidatingly so.

He didn’t seem to care how sensitive you were, listening to you let out a moan from both pain and pleasure as he fed inch after inch of himself into you.

“Been waiting for this for so long.” He groaned into your ear after letting his forehead drop to the pillow you rested on. “Thought about this every night for months and months. Needed it before I even met you, Derek showed us a picture of you and I knew. Knew I’d be deep inside you just like this someday.” He rambled, that was all the time he gave you before he thrusted in and out of you at an unexpectedly fast pace.

You were so sensitive, it felt too good, too much, overwhelming. Spencer moaned as your nails dug into his shoulders, it only made him fuck you faster. He kissed away each tear that fell down your flushed cheeks.

He knew he’d finish embarrassingly fast, he’d wanted nothing more than this for so long. He slid a hand down between you both, rubbing fast and tight circles over your pudgy, swollen and tender clit.

You screamed yet again, heels locking behind Spencer’s back unintentionally, pulling him closer to you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, broken whimpers and sentences without words rushing out of your mouth.

Only a few more thrusts from and you were cumming again. Hoarse whines of pleasure echoing off of the walls of your prison. The constant clenching of your walls around him triggered his orgasm. He bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder to centre himself as his hips jerked and he came deep inside of you, painting your cervix.

For a while you stayed like that, Spencer hovering on top of you, hot breath on your neck, cock softening inside of you. It was relaxing, you needed this peaceful intimacy more than he did and he knew that, more than happy to give you everything you needed right now.

His chin dragged against yours as he lifted his head again. You moved forward and kissed him, the first kiss you’d initiated since he took you. His lips were soft, dented from his teeth, salty from the sweat and tears he kissed off of you.

He kissed you back, humming happily, smiling, which made you smile too. He pulled out, much to your dismay, grinning at the sad sound you made at the loss of his cock inside of you.

The second he was laying on his back you were turning and curling into him, he didn’t mind at all, beyond happy to hold you, coddle you and give you kisses over your damp hairline.

“Do you wanna shower now angel? Or would you rather to shower in the morning?” He asked you, sweet and sultry. You just shook your head, pressing your face against his bare chest.

“Don’t wanna shower yet, just want- I want you.” You sniffled, foggy and clingy, he grinned down at you.

“You’re always going to have me.”

@justanerd1 @the-sun-died-out @eddies-van86 @alfjorcitos @natashaashleymarvelromanoff @tuesday-yellowxx @niyahwhoreworld @wilcherwatchers @aesthetics-villa @no-soy-fer

[multifandomlover01]

No but I need prison Spencer to scratch a poem I’d written about him long ago or sent to him in prison or whatever into his prison cell wall with a shank or whatever in the corner to keep him going. I need it to be a mantra for him. I need the guards to question what he’s doing curled up in the corner on the floor, rocking back and forth

I view myself in the CM universe as journaling as a BAU agent to cope with the cases and my feelings. I write whatever, including poems, to express myself. Spencer finds out or he sees me because I’m not being secretive about it. Maybe I let him read some, bc maybe he’s curious. Maybe he reads what I wrote when he’d been held by Tobias and then when he was struggling afterwards (we were already dating). He memorized a poem I wrote about how much he meant to me in a time when I thought I might lose him and then it becomes his anchor whenever he’s struggling.

[darkomoth]

Insomniacs

Chapter 1: Violets

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: You and Hotch are both workaholics, but when you start showing up earlier and staying later, he starts getting concerned. A case will give you something to preoccupy yourself with, but something goes severely wrong.

Cause when doesn't it?

Notes: I recommend getting the InteractiveFics extension for chrome! It's really good and will replace the y/n and l/n with your name :)

Also uploaded on Ao3 under the same title

Word count: 9.7K

Ch. 2 Ch.3

It was another night of not being able to sleep at all. Not that you hadn’t tried. After the plane touched back down in Quantico, you should’ve felt relief at the thought of home and a comfortable bed to lie your head, but you felt nothing other than anxiety at the thought of nothing to do. 

You got to your apartment, dumped your used go-bag clothes into the washing machine, showered, cleaned up the dishes that cluttered in your kitchen, even vacuumed up a bit in the living room. You looked over at the clock on the end table by your couch, it read 3:33 am. With a sigh, you decided to give rest a shot. 

Your bed was made perfectly already, not wanting to mess it up, you decided the couch was good. You grabbed a blanket and pillow and turned on the TV, volume all the way down. The time passed achingly slowly. Seconds crawled by and the silence was unbelievably deafening. You looked at the clock once again, 3:39 am. Another attempt to close your eyes and you were met with 20 minutes of tossing and turning. 

“That’s enough.” You mumbled to yourself before throwing the warm blanket off your body and getting up. You made a pot of coffee, moved your clothes to the dryer, and packed a new go-bag. 4:05 am. It was agonizing, every second you waited for your phone to ring. You watched it, the dark screen with no new notifications taunting you. You sat on your couch, watching the characters on your screen move and laugh silently, your eyes drifted closed once or twice, but never long enough for it to be called sleep. 

You sipped your coffee, hot and caffeinated and perfect. 4:17 am. When the drink went cold you decided it would be a good time to get ready for the day. You got dressed, black slacks and a dark blue long-sleeved button-down. You brushed your hair and did your makeup. 4:29 am. You considered whether to just go straight to the office, ultimately deciding it best to grab some food first. 

You arrived at the building at 5:02 am. It wasn’t too early, you decided. After all, there have been nights that you’ve seen your boss not leave until past 5:00 in the morning. Hotch’s car wasn’t in the parking lot this morning, however. That was good, it meant he was getting sleep and time with his son. 

The bullpen was dark, you decided to only turn on one light, enough for you to see. The case report on your desk was already finished since you worked on it during your team's flight back home, but there would be no harm in going over it. You wouldn’t classify yourself as a perfectionist or even a workaholic, though you presented that way to others. You just didn’t enjoy doing nothing like other people. 

Footsteps coming from your left made you pause what you were doing and look up. 

“Good morning.” You said as Hotch came walking into the bullpen with that perfectly pressed suit of his. The time on your watch read 5:30 am, he was very punctual. 

“Good morning.” He said, with that usual furrow of his brow and the tight-lipped look that meant a question was coming. “You’re here early.”  

Okay, not really a question. 

“So are you.” You say, too tired to engage in your typical banter. 

Hotch only nodded once in response, then took a few steps towards his office before stopping in his tracks and turning back around. “Did you actually go home last night?” 

“Yes.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers beneath your desk. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Mm.” He hummed in response. “Don’t burn yourself out, we need you alert.” 

“Do we have a case?” You asked, maybe a little too quickly. 

“Not until the rest of the team gets here... but yes.” 

You nodded and any trace of tiredness from the night dissipated. Blood pumped in your veins and your anxiety disappeared, anticipation for the new work ahead of you completely replacing it. 

“Okay, would you mind if I got the case file now? I have nothing else to do.” You asked. 

Hotch studied you for a moment with that serious frown of his, “I’ll make copies now.” 

“Thank you.” 

Sometimes you felt like Hotch was the only one that understood you. Maybe it was because he was the resident workaholic in the department before you showed up, and he still is, but it feels deeper than that. Most days you come in at the same time, leave at the same time... honestly the only time you don’t see your Unit Chief is when you’re home. You hated being home. 

In the very late hours when the whole building was quiet and not a soul lingered, you would see that one light from Hotch’s office and feel comfort. His blinds would be open, and you could see him reading and writing, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Since the death of his ex-wife, Haley, he’s stayed later and later, coming in earlier, only departing when he knows Jack needs him. It’s a heartbreaking thing to watch. 

But often you would be sitting at your desk, getting lost in the paperwork as your eyes strained to read every bit of information in the dim lighting, when a warm hand would land on your shoulder. Hotch’s soft, tired voice telling you to take a break, rest your eyes. It made your chest warm, and body relax if only for a few minutes. He knew better than to try to get you to go home, it never works out. Unless of course, he leaves at the same time. It was a very rare occurrence, to say the least. 

Right now, Hotch is in his office making enough copies of the case files to be passed around to the team when they get in. You tap impatiently on your desk, drumming your fingers along to a song that only exists in your head. When you can’t stand it anymore, you get up and make your way over to him. 

You knock once on the open door, “What is it?” 

Hotch turns to you with a serious look. “You’re very impatient this morning.” 

“I know. So?” 

With a sigh, he hands over a manila folder with the FBI logo. 

“Three women in three weeks, all were strangled and beaten to death, abducted from their homes. Last victim was found 4 days ago.” 

“That’s a strict timeline... and they’re just calling us in now?” You ask. 

“Local sheriff thinks it could be even more and I’m inclined to agree. So far, this presents as organized. No one starts out like this, there are no hesitation marks on the bodies and no DNA was left behind on the scenes.” 

You nodded along as he spoke, already going over the possibilities of this unsub in your mind. Organized means older, that rules out teenagers and younger. No hesitation could mean psychopathy, lack of remorse, etc. Most likely white given the victims were, possibly sexually frustrated. 

“Any sign of sexual assault?” 

“We’ll go over everything when the team arrives.” Hotch states firmly. 

“When were they called in?” You asked. 

“If you check your voice mail, you’ll see.” He says with a small smile. “Look, go to the conference room and read over the files some more, I’ll make some more coffee.”  

You want to argue, but you know he’s right. You were definitely getting ahead of yourself here. With a grateful nod, you head to the conference room. 

The pictures were gruesome, but when aren’t they? The girls were pretty when they were alive, their faces were mutilated during the attacks. Could have something to do with the unsub’s view of women. You turned over theory after theory in your head and before you knew it, Hotch was back and sliding over a mug filled to the brim with coffee, just the way you like it.  

“Thank you, Hotch.” You say, taking a sip. He nods and sips his own cup. 

“How long were you here before I came in?” He asks you, glancing up from the file in his hands. 

You shrug and say, “Not long... half an hour?” 

“You need to rest.” He says, in his usual commanding tone. It makes you smile a bit, though you try to suppress it. 

“I know, and I will.” You look him in the eyes to try and convince him, but he looks doubtful. “Promise.” 

Hotch nods, seemingly satisfied for the time being. You knew he was just checking in on you out of concern for a team member, but you hoped it was just a little more than that. Anytime he looked at you, it made your heart rate pick up a little. You weren’t as sure of yourself as usual when you were around him. 

Five minutes later the team starts filtering in, first is JJ, then Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid. Then it’s Garcia, who did not seem very happy to be awake at 6:30 am, followed by Rossi. When everyone finally gathered into the conference room, you could feel your body relax. Your work could finally start for real. 

After the initial ‘good mornings’ and bantering, Hotch started to present the case to everyone. You suggested the same preliminary profile traits from earlier and most everyone agreed. 

“Well, if this unsub has killed before, it will most likely not be in the exact same spot.” Reid says. “We should widen the range to a fifty-mile radius to see if there were any similar murders in the past couple years or so.” 

“I’m so on it.” Penelope says.  

“What else did the unsub do?” Prentiss asks, looking at the photos of the victims’ neck wounds. 

“A call was placed to each of the victim’s significant others, a voice modifier was used but the message remained the same. ‘Don’t bother looking, you will never see her again.’” Hotch says. “He keeps them for at least a day, given the various stages of healing with the victims bruises.” 

“Well, that’s definitely sadistic, torturing not only the victims but those close to them as well.” You add. 

“Was the call placed before or after their deaths?” Rossi asks. 

Hotch’s eyebrows knit further together, “Before, according to the coroner's report.”  

“Which gives the victim’s family hope only for that to be snuffed out almost immediately.” Reid says. 

“If this guy’s seasoned in his kills, why risk dumping the bodies in such a public way?” Morgan asks. “All of the victims, Susanne Yearly, Brenda James and Larissa Buckly were all found in public parks, somewhere he could’ve easily been seen even at night while disposing of them.” 

“Maybe there’s a part of him that wants to get caught? Wants people to know that this was his work.” You say. 

“If that’s the case, we’re dealing with a narcissist.” Rossi adds. 

Prentiss jumps in again, “Yeah, but this level of body mutilation feels personal. Their faces were left nearly unrecognizable, I’m willing to bet his stressor involves a woman that has similar features.” 

“The families are distraught.” JJ says. “They confirmed in the police reports that all the girls lived alone, having just moved into new places weeks or even days before their abductions took place.” 

“Well, that’s certainly a connection.” Hotch states. “Chicago PD will be expecting us when we arrive, wheels up in 30.” 

- 

Arriving less than three hours later, Hotch orders you and Reid to establish a timeline in the precinct while Morgan and Rossi take the newest crime scene where Larissa’s body was found. Hotch has JJ speaking to family members and Prentiss goes with him to the morgue. 

Garcia’s on the speaker with Reid, “I did what you asked and widened the range for possible attacks fitting this creeps M.O., however absolutely nothing came up. Soooo, I changed the parameters. Hotch and L/N mentioned that most likely this guy wouldn’t have been as confident as he is now, meaning the kills may not have been as brutal. I included any and all deaths as a result of suffocation from the last ten years surrounding the Chicago area and wouldn’t-ya-know-it I got a hit. Well, hits.” 

Garcia explains that there were at least 5 possible victims, all of them died of various forms of suffocation. You and Reid went through the past reports of the deceased women and ruled out two of them since they both drowned, which didn’t fit this unsub’s specific fantasy. That left you with three girls, one found in an alley behind her work with a bag around her head, no other injuries except a hit on the head with a blunt object. The other two were covered in bruises and strangled with rope. Since then, the unsub’s gotten smarter, switched from rope to wire making it less bulky and conspicuous. He’s also leveled up his damage to their face and body, becoming more intense with each kill. 

You and Reid explain your findings to Hotch and Prentiss when they return from the morgue. They corroborate the theory with their own findings, since each body was more disfigured than the last. The thin lines on the necks of the victims were so deep, you wondered if that’s what the unsub focused on the most. 

“There was no sexual assault present on the bodies.” Prentiss states. “But there were marks on their wrists and ankles, they were most likely tied to something while the unsub beat them.” 

“Which means the act of killing is more than enough for him,” Hotch adds. “He derives all of his pleasure from brutalizing the women, then watching them die in front of him.” 

“The bag around the head on the very first victim, Miranda Jall, along with the hit on her head suggests a sort of de-personalization.” Reid says. “He didn’t make a call to her fiancé and there was no abduction. He hit her over the head as she walked out of her workplace, and the bag obscured his view of her face, he couldn’t have gotten off on it.” He says. 

“It was practice. He was figuring out how he was going to incapacitate his victims.” You say. “He probably felt a rush after the initial hit, and realized he wanted more of that aspect.” 

“So, he amps up the beatings.” Hotch adds. “He isn’t satisfied with just the kill, he wants more time.” 

“And then he switches to rope so he can see their faces.” Prentiss says. 

“The two victims that were strangled with rope still have yet to be identified. He started out by blitz-attacking his victims in isolated areas, where-as now he targets newly independent women inside their homes.” Reid says. 

JJ walks up with a look on her face that you all know means bad news, “The victims' families have no idea who the caller could be, all the young women appeared to be well-liked, in stable relationships. They can’t think of a single person that would want to do this to their daughters.” 

Just then, a call comes through to Hotch’s phone. “Hotchner.” He listens for a moment and then nods, “Okay.” He hangs up. “Morgan and Rossi found violets at the crime scene.”  

“The flower?” Prentiss asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Was that present at the other dump sites?” You ask. 

“If it was, it wasn’t mentioned in the files.” Hotch answers. 

“If he’s leaving flowers for his victims, it could potentially be a sign of remorse.” Reid says. 

“This guy isn’t capable, he’s narcissistic and psychopathic, the flowers have to mean something else.” You say, frustrated now. 

So far all you’ve really gotten is the confirmation that this guy has killed at least six women, and not a whole lot else. You decide to call Garcia. 

“Speak and be heard by residing genius PG.” 

“Hey Garcia, can you get me everything on the early victims? I think the unsub knew one of them personally.” You say. 

“What makes you think that?” Prentiss asks. 

“Well, if the first kill was a trial, maybe he was practicing for a specific target. He could have already gotten who he wanted and now he’s chasing the same high.” You reply. “While you’re at it Garcia, see if you can find any mention of violets being present at the crime scenes.” 

- 

Everyone had converged back to the precinct nearly an hour ago. The last victim, Larissa Buckly, was found 4 days ago. If the unsub is continuing at a consistent rate with no sign of slowing down, the police will be finding a new body in 3 days.  

You all knew this, the stakes were high and given the profile of the unsub, he wasn’t someone that was going to stop unless he was behind bars. Still, the team needed sleep. 

“Alright, we’ve done all that we can for the night. The profile is out there, the press conference warned women of Chicago to remain vigilant, you all can head to the hotel.” Hotch says. 

Hotch could tell that the team wasn’t in high spirits and exhaustion wasn’t going to make it any better. It’s usually a good idea to take a step back, take a break, and come back with fresh eyes. And yet, as the profilers filed out of the precinct, still talking back and forth about victimology and M.O., he noticed not all of them were leaving. 

Y/N stayed planted where she was at the round table, eyebrows knit together in frustration or confusion. She tapped her fingers the way that she does when she's nervous or focused, or both. Hotch takes a step towards her, his arms crossed, and a frown set on his face. 

“I said you all can head to the hotel.” He says pointedly. 

“Yes, I heard you. I’m not tired.” Y/N says, still not meeting his eyes. 

Hotch’s jaw tenses a bit. She can be incredibly stubborn and, in some cases, it was an asset. Not right now, though. 

“It wasn’t a suggestion, L/N. Go get some sleep, come back tomorrow morning with everyone else.” 

“Are you going to sleep?” She asks, finally snapping her head up and meeting his stoic gaze with her own. 

“Yes. I have to do a few more things here, and then I will be heading back to the hotel.” 

“I’ll leave when you do.” She says. It was a challenge, he knew. He was used to it. It was also extremely frustrating.  

Hotch swipes a hand across his face tiredly, “Y/N. You haven't slept since our last case. It’s been over 48 hours, and our judgement is severely impaired after 24 hours without sleep. You can become drowsy and irritable, your memory is affected, your coordination will be off-” 

“You think my judgement is impaired?” She asks, sounding offended. That would be the part that she focuses on, Hotch thinks. “Hotch, I have been trying to put all of these puzzle pieces together for over 12 hours now and nothing is going to get done if I’m knocked out.” 

Hotch understands where she’s coming from, truly, but right now, he doesn’t care. “L/N I am giving you a direct order, leave the precinct. Go to the hotel. Do not come back until at least 6:00.” 

She huffs out a frustrated breath, and it’s hard to not find that a little bit cute. The thought makes Hotch feel guilty, that’s definitely not what he should be thinking about right now. Before he can dwell on it though, Y/N is gathering up all of the papers that were scattered around the table. 

“No- leave it.” Hotch commands with his hand coming down on top of the file so she can’t take it, brushing her hand in the process. It spreads a warmth through him, but he thinks he does a good job at not showing it. “I know you won’t sleep if you take these with you.” 

Y/N’s angry, he knows by the way she doesn’t even respond, just shoots him a look and grabs her bag to leave. It’s fine though, if that’s what it takes to get her to finally rest. Hotch lets out a long sigh once she’s out of sight, taking a seat at the table and finishing collecting all of the papers on the table. That’s when he notices an image of one of the Jane Doe victims, she’s wearing a necklace, gold and dainty around her slim, pale neck. It was blurry, hard to make out, but certainly a cursive “V” pendant hung in the middle. 

“Violet?” 

-  

Hotch ordered you to leave the precinct, so you did. But he didn’t say you couldn’t make a detour on your way to the hotel. A yawn overcame you as you drove towards Grant Park, where Larissa’s body was found. You knew that if Hotch found out about this you would be in a lot of trouble, but the thought didn’t really faze you when faced with the alternative. How could you sleep when there was a serial killer out there hunting for his newest victim? A young woman was going to be dead in less than 72 hours, who were you to sleep at a time like this? 

At the same time, you can’t condemn your friends for needing that sleep. You wished you functioned like they did. You wished you could take a step back and rest and come back refreshed with a whole new outlook. But the truth was that you just couldn’t handle the nightmares. 

They started not long after joining the BAU. It was only natural; you were assured by Morgan as he noticed how off you’d been after a few months with the team. He also suffered from nightmares. They were fewer and further between now, which was good. You weren’t so lucky. For some reason they came in waves. Each case you worked on added to your memory storage of gruesome death and horrific imagery that was reflected back at you anytime you closed your eyes.  

It’s true that you hated the nothingness of your home life, the boredom of being alone with nothing but your thoughts, but that was only part of it. You figured, the longer you could stay awake, the less you’d have to worry about the nightmares bleeding into your reality. 

When you arrived at the spot where Larissa was found, you saw yellow crime scene tape wrapped around trees and some blood on the floor where the body had laid in the center of it. She was positioned laying face up, arms at her sides, clothes intact. No overtly sexual displays, no attempt to cover her up, just a corpse. 

Without the files to work off of, you only had your memory of the crime scene photos. You closed your eyes and imagined you were the one dumping Larissa’s body.  

“I would scope out the area first, without the body.” You say to yourself. “Take note of how many people were here during the day, how many at night... but I’d have to seem inconspicuous. Can’t be in a black hoodie standing still and staring at people. Someone would notice.” 

“So, I don’t cover my face... people saw me, interacted even. I’m not standing out, I’m moving. Maybe running?” You sigh and open your eyes. All that means is that this guy will be harder to catch than most. “What was with the violets...” You walk in circles around the scene, looking from every angle possible. You take note of the shrubbery, all green grass and occasional daffodils, nothing even resembling violets in the area, so the unsub definitely brought it with him. 

Before you had a chance to continue, you heard some movement from behind you. You quickly spun around but saw no one. 

You moved carefully from where you stood, a hand resting on your hip where your gun was. Taking careful steps towards the parking lot, you glance at your watch. 1:34 am. Anyone out here at this time is either a stoner or a serial killer, you found yourself almost hoping for the latter. 

Once you reached your car, you still saw nothing. “FBI, if someone is there come out now and show me your hands.” You said as loud and clear as possible. 

Nothing, only crickets sounded in the night. With a sigh, you thought maybe Hotch was right, your judgement was seriously impaired, and you needed some sleep. 

As you reached for the handle of the driver's side door, you felt a sharp pain at the back of your head, and everything went black. 

-  

Hotch felt confident in his theory that the third victim, Jane Doe #2, was the unsub’s intended target from the beginning. The first kill was fast and sloppy, he didn’t move the body and her face was practically untouched. The second, Jane Doe #1, was also blitz-attacked, but it was in a grocery store parking lot at night, somewhere higher-risk where he could have been caught. So he was getting bolder, he hit her more, but still didn’t take her anywhere new. Just left her body where she was strangled. The third though, that’s when things shifted. 

Jane Doe #2 who wore the ‘V’ necklace, was found in a public park, but that isn’t where she died. Hotch has been referring to her as violet for the time-being, since he didn’t know her actual name. No “Violet” was ever reported missing in the area, which means it could most likely be a nickname. Her real name would potentially still start with a V, he thought.  

On the phone with Garcia, he relayed all of this information and was waiting for something to turn up on her end. “I did what L/N asked and tried to find everything I could on the first three victims. Miranda Jall, like you said, was a victim of opportunity and a trial-run. Jane Doe #1 though, while similar to the first, was beaten more and found more quickly. Jane Doe #2 was unrecognizable, I mean like, her face was so swollen from being beaten it’s surprising she was found in one piece.” Her voice was tight and rushed, like the words in her mouth made her feel physically sick. 

“I know,” Hotch says. “Which is why I need everything you can find on her, search for missing persons from the past few years again, but narrow it down to only women whose first name started with a V. She would’ve been in a relationship, either long-term boyfriend, fiancé, or new husband.” 

“Okay, stay on the line aaaandd.... there are four women, Venessa Traer, Veronica May, Victoria Jennings, and Valerie Hill. None of them look like the other victims.” Garcia says, clearly frustrated. “Traer was an elementary school teacher in her late forties, May had gone missing during a boating trip out-of-state and presumed dead, Jennings was reported missing but turned up a few weeks later, apparently on a spontaneous vacation with her friends, and Hill was an elderly woman who was suspected to have left her care-facility of her own free will.” 

Hotch sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, until a thought struck him. “What about middle-names that start with V?” It was a long shot, he knew it, but he would try anything at this point. 

A few seconds passed as he heard Garcia’s furious typing on the other end, “Aha! Sir, you are in fact a genius. Samantha Vivienne Garner, reported missing only eight weeks ago. She’s a spitting image of the other women, her name shows up on a lease for a newly remodeled home with one Riley Perkins, her soon-to-be husband.” 

“Garcia, I’ll need an address for Perkins.” 

“Already being sent.” 

“Oh...” She said, sadly. 

Hotch’s frown deepened, “What is it?” 

“Perkins had posted an image of Samantha saying yes to his proposal, it was in the middle of Millenium Park.” 

“Where Jane Doe #2’s body was found.” Hotch said, now 100% convinced that his theory was correct. 

Hotch knew that he would be at the precinct all night, the irony of his situation with Y/N not lost on him. She was dedicated, maybe too dedicated, but the same could be said of him. 

“Good work, Garcia. We’ll call you when there’s another update.”  

“Oh, just one more thing, sir.” 

“What is it?” 

“L/N had asked me to look into whether there were violets at the other crime scenes and the answer is yes and no. It wasn’t reported or even see as a connection because the first Jane Doe had bought a bouquet of violets from the grocery store, which seems like a coincidence, but Susanne, Brenda, and Larissa all had violets show up on their doorsteps after they were found dead. They were presumed to be condolence gifts from friends, but now...” 

“Alright, we’ll look into this further, thank you.” 

Hotch ended the call and checked the time. 3:00 am. Three more hours before the rest of the team would show up. He was already setting up in his mind where everyone would be assigned once they got here. Hotch wanted JJ to get in contact with Samantha Garner’s parents, Morgan and Reid would pull the missing person's report and find out the details of that. He would keep Rossi and Prentiss in the precinct to dig into Garner and Perkin’s lives with Garcia. He wanted L/N with him to interview Perkins himself, if he had gotten the very first phone call from the unsub about Samantha, why didn’t he identify her? 

5:58 am, Hotch read his watch as everyone started walking in. They were tired, but still looking better than they did the previous night. There were only two days before the next body would be found, and if he’s keeping them for one day, he may have already taken someone. 

Hotch was half-expecting (half-hoping) that Y/N would show up early. She usually did, even when it was against orders. Still, he was glad that this meant she may have actually gotten a few hours of rest. 6:00 am and no Y/N, Hotch shrugged off the pit-like feeling in his stomach. 

“Good morning.” He says to the other members, who’ve taken their spots at the table. Hotch speed-dials Garcia and puts her on speaker so that the two of them can go over what they discovered last night. 

“Well, then if this Samantha girl was the real target and he’s still going, there’s no telling when or if he’ll stop.” Rossi says once they’re finished. 

“Exactly,” Hotch replies. He assigns them to their designated tasks and just before he can dismiss everyone, Prentiss speaks up. 

“Has anyone seen L/N?” She asks. 

“I called her when we got here but didn’t get an answer.” JJ says. 

The group of FBI agents share some looks but no one says anything. That feeling in Hotch’s stomach has doubled. 

“She wasn’t at the hotel this morning?” He asks. His eyebrows furrow together and jaw tenses when no one answers immediately. 

“I didn’t see her.” Morgan speaks up. 

“Me neither.” Reid says. 

Everyone else only shakes their head in agreement. 

“I sent her back with all of you, she tried to stay late but I wouldn’t let her.” Hotch says, fists clenched in the position at his sides. “She didn’t take the files with her so she wouldn’t have had anything to work on.” 

“Well...” JJ starts. 

“What?” Hotch asks. 

“If she couldn’t be at the precinct and she didn’t want to sleep, she could’ve gone to one of the dump sites.” She replies. 

Hotch’s chest feels tight, his breathing is shallow and can’t think straight at the moment. If that is what she did, it was very, very stupid. They had profiled this unsub as a psychotic narcissist with sadistic tendencies, there’s a good chance he would visit the crime scenes afterwards. Of course she would go straight there, he thought, what else would she do? 

“Alright, the plan hasn’t changed. All of you know your assignments, go.” Hotch says, before he turns to stride away. 

“Wait a second, if Y/N’s in danger, we need to find her.” Prentiss says, clearly upset and standing up from her chair. 

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Hotch shoots back, unable to keep the anger and worry from showing in his voice. 

He didn’t give anyone else a chance to argue as he stormed out of the precinct, heading towards the car. One of the cars was gone, which means Y/N definitely left here last night, it was just a matter of which scene she ended up at. 

With Garcia still on the phone, Hotch has a thought, “Garcia, send me the last location registered on the GPS of the rental car that Y/N used last night.” 

“Y-yes sir.” Penelope typed quickly and Hotch’s anxieties grew with each passing second. “Uh, the-the last pinned location was Grant Park, which was where-” 

“The last victim was found. Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch hung up the phone and pulled quickly out of the parking lot, heart beating out of his chest. 

- 

You were pretty sure you could feel your heart beating in your head. The back of your skull hurt very badly, but when you tried to feel for an injury you found that you couldn’t. Both your wrists and ankles were tied to a chair, which was bolted to the floor. 

Your mouth felt dry, all you could think about was water. That was, before someone came walking towards you from the corner of the room. 

“How are you feeling?” The man’s rough voice was too close to your ear, making you jerk back. The sudden movement didn’t help your head injury at all. “Ah ah ah...” He said, gripping your face with one large hand. “Stay still.” 

He was ugly. That was honestly your first thought while looking at him. Maybe he hated women cause he couldn’t get a date. 

His face was scruffy with a patchy beard, his brunette wavy hair receded away from his face revealing forehead wrinkles. He must’ve only been in his late 30’s early 40’s, but his strung-out appearance aged him. 

“Where am I?” You ask as levelly as you could in your state. Looking around, the only thing you noticed was a concrete floor and barren white walls, which hung some wire. A house? Maybe a basement, given the musty smell of the air in the cramped space. It was dark, the only light source coming from a small lamp to your right. 

“I thought you were the profiler.” 

So, this guy knows exactly who he took. You weren’t just a victim of opportunity, but a target. “You’re right, I am. Which is why I know that you are an extremely...” You take a steadying breath in preparation, “weak individual with no genuine real-world skills who overcompensates for his lack of personality with a massive ego.” You say, staring him in the eyes. “Am I getting warm?” 

The unsub pulls his fist back before it lands across your left cheek. You knew this would be the response, though. It’s why you did it. The punch snapped your head all the way to the right, where you spit out the small amount of blood that formed in your mouth. You can’t pretend it didn’t hurt; your eyes squeezed shut against the pain. 

Challenging a narcissist usually incurs some type of violence or retribution, but that makes them emotional which can make them sloppy and prone to mistakes. Maybe those mistakes would reveal to you where you were, or even lead your team right to you. You hoped you were right. 

The stranger in front of you takes in a rattling breath and exhales in your face, making you recoil. He grips you by the chin once more, putting some extra pressure on the bruise that was sure to form soon. “You are going to die here. But first, I have to make a call.” 

The man reaches into your front pocket, digging around until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls it out. Your phone isn’t locked, it never is since you never leave it behind, ever. That of course means the unsub has full access to each number in your contact list. Your heart rate picks up at the thought of who he was about to call. 

You didn’t have a significant other, maybe that meant he wouldn’t call anyone? No such luck, though. The man scrolled through your most recent calls and only one name showed up the most consistently. 

SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

His name made your head light and your stomach churn. This really was a waking nightmare. You pulled yourself roughly against your restraints, feeling the thick rope cut deep into your bare skin. It burned and you kept going until you received a punch to the stomach for your efforts. 

“Shut the fuck up.” The ugly man said. Then with a finger raised to his lips as if to demonstrate to you that you need to keep quiet, he presses the call button and raises the phone to his ear. You scream at him and that irritates him enough to punch you once more in the face, harder than the last time. 

You groan at the sensation, the pain from your skull and your cheek and your stomach combining to make you feel ill. 

“Y/N?” You could hear Hotch’s voice faintly from your phone that the unsub still had in his hand. 

“Don’t bother looking, you will never see her again.” Is all that the unsub said, before ending the call and tossing the phone away. It lands several feet behind him on the floor, and you know there’s no chance of you getting it. Not when you’re still bound to the chair. 

Your eyes remain fixed on the unsub, watching as he stares you down. He was predictably irrational, moving around you like a wild animal, as if trying to decide what to do with you first. 

You may not know where you are exactly, but you know that this unsub likes to keep his victims alive for at least 24 hours after kidnapping them. If he does stick to that pattern, that leaves you with about 20ish hours for your team to come find you. And while you did have complete faith in them, it didn’t stop your heart from pounding faster the closer he came. 

-  

Hotch saw the call with your caller ID, and he felt like he could breathe again. He had just stopped in the lot of Grant Park and was walking towards the yellow taped scene when he paused and answered. 

“Y/N?” He asked as soon as he hit accept. 

“Don’t bother looking, you will never see her again.”  

Hotch felt ice in his veins as the line went dead immediately after. The worst thing that could have happened, did. And Hotch felt helpless. His jaw was tense, and his hand curled into a white-knuckled fist around the cell phone. He dropped it to his side, not able to think for a moment. 

Then he took a deep breath and dialed Garcia. 

“Sir?” 

“Can you track L/N’s phone right now?” Hotch asks, feeling the weight of what was happening in his throat as it closed around his words. 

“Um, yeah, yes if it’s turned on and if it’s near cell phone towers I should-I should be able to triangulate its location...” While she spoke, she typed. Another few seconds passed without words. 

“Garcia?” Hotch said as firmly as he could. 

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t- if the phone was turned off or destroyed, I won’t be able to get even an approximation, nothing is coming up at all-” 

“Get into contact with the rest of the team, tell them Y/N’s been taken by the unsub.” 

“Oh, God. Oh my God, okay.” 

Hotch hung up and pocketed his phone. He wipes his hands down his face, frustrated and so fucking angry. With himself, with this case... he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t get you back. Now was the worst time to dwell on it, though. You needed the team's help, and he was going to find you. 

Looking around at the scene, he noticed that the rental car wasn’t here either. That means the unsub took it with you inside. He must’ve disabled the GPS, either broke it or threw it away before leaving. Hotch immediately contacted the local Police Department’s office to put out an APB on the black SUV. 

Think, think... “Okay, he had a personal connection to Samantha. Not only knew her, he loved her or thought he did. He was angry that she was getting married.” 

Hotch drives as fast as he can back to the precinct where he finds everyone else, back from their assignments and looking at him for answers.  

“When was she taken?” Prentiss asks first. 

“And from where?” Reid adds. 

“Between 1:00 and 4:00 am, from the park where Larissa’s body was found.” Hotch says, trying to remain in his usual stoic façade. “He wouldn’t have risked taking her while it was light out. This unsub is bold but he’s still a coward like the rest of them.” 

“Did you find anything at the scene?” Morgan asks. 

“The car was missing, the unsub had to have taken L/N in it.” Hotch took a deep breath. “He called me from her phone.” 

That made everyone stiffen. 

Rossi speaks now, “Same message?” 

Hotch nods once, which is all he can manage. The team speaks in hushed tones as anxiety takes over. “Right now, we have to assume that she’s alive. This unsub keeps his victims so that he can... torture them so let’s get to work.” 

“Yeah, but Hotch... if he knows that L/N’s an FBI agent, there’s no telling if he’ll remain on schedule.” Morgan says, obviously troubled by the thought himself if his face is any indication. 

Hotch had considered it, of course. But he refused to accept it. Until there was a body, Y/N was not dead. She couldn’t be. 

“What did you find out about Samantha Garner from the missing person's report?” Hotch asks, ignoring the implication of Morgan’s words. 

“It was called in by her Fiancé, Riley Perkins.” He replies. “He called the police once he noticed she didn’t come home from work.” 

Hotch nods, thinking that the unsub wouldn’t be stupid enough to call in the missing person’s report himself. As much of a narcissist as he is, he wanted to keep pursuing his fantasies. 

“And JJ, what’d you get from her parents?” Hotch asks, fingers curled into fists as his arms cross in front of his chest. 

“It’s the same story as the other parents, everybody loved her, there was no one who held any grudges.” JJ says. “Her mother did mention an admirer, though.” 

“An admirer?” Prentiss repeats. 

“Yeah, I guess Sam was getting love letters. Innocuous enough to not raise alarm, but still out of the ordinary.” 

“Did she say who they were from?” Hotch says hurriedly. 

 JJ shakes her head, “No, she had no idea.” 

“Prentiss and I got Garcia to dig into Sam and Riley’s relationship,” Rossi says. “They were together only one year before deciding to tie the knot.” 

“They seemed to love each other.” Prentiss adds. 

“Well looks can be deceiving.” Hotch says. “Garcia got his address, Morgan and Prentiss, with me. The rest of you stay and find out absolutely everything you can about this secret admirer, he’s our unsub.” 

- 

When Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss arrived at the suburban home at the end of a cul-de-sac, all three stepped out and quickly made their way to the front door. 

Three loud knocks on the front door from Morgan and a few seconds later Riley came out. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you Riley Perkins?” Hotch asked, though he knew the answer. 

“Yes, I am. What is this about?” 

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, these are special agents Morgan and Prentiss, may we come in?” He didn’t leave room for Perkins to answer, as he was already stepping inside. 

“Um, what-what is this about?” He asks again nervously, stepping aside to let the three of them into his living room. 

The house was a mess, laundry and trash littered most of the surfaces. The man himself didn’t look too good, like he hasn’t slept in a week. 

“We’re here about your fiancé, Samantha Garner.” Morgan says. 

Perkins shifts his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably, not making eye contact. “Did you, um, did you find her?” 

“Yes, sir we did.” Morgan responds. 

The man's nodding, fidgeting where he stands. “And?” 

“Sir, I’m afraid she’s dead.” Morgan explains as calmly as he can. 

Hotch notices the way Perkins handles the news, the tenseness of his shoulders dissipating. Not necessarily relieved by the news but accepting. Like he already knew that she was dead. 

“Oh my God...” He lifts a palm up to his face and sobs for a moment. 

“Mr. Perkins, I’m going to ask you once and if you’re not honest with me, trust that I will know.” Hotch states after he finally stops. The man looks him up and down and nods. “Did you receive a phone call the day your fiancé went missing?” 

“I uh- I don’t remember...” Perkins says, again breaking eye contact. 

“Yes, you do.” Hotch says, now invading his personal space. “It was the day your fiancé went missing, you knew something was wrong when she didn’t come home from work, you called the police. And then someone called you, didn’t they?” 

“I- I mean no I don’t...” Perkins finally looks up and then sighs. “I don’t know who it was, I really, really don’t.” 

“What did he say, exactly.” Prentiss asks. 

Perkins looks at her and shakes his head a little, “He said... that I shouldn’t look for her, that I- I'll never see her again.” He starts crying again after that. 

“Anything else at all? Was he calm, erratic?” Morgan asks. 

“He was like, mumbling, I don’t know.” 

“There’s something you’re not telling us, if you’re withholding essential information to interfere with a federal investigation, I will see to it that you are charged with obstruction of justice.” Hotch says, angrier by the second. 

Perkins looks like he’s going to throw up and his legs give out. He slumps down onto the couch before he can speak. “He said... he said that he would kill me too if I spoke to the police again.” His head is in his hands as he talks. “I knew, I knew the second the news said they discovered a body in Millenium Park.” He was almost incomprehensible through his sobs. “They couldn’t identify her, but I knew.” 

“Mr. Perkins... Riley.” Prentiss takes a seat next to him and speaks softly, trying to establish trust. “This man has killed at least five other women.” His cries stopped for a moment when he turned to look at her, a shocked expression on his face. “We need your help in order to stop him.” 

“I told you, I swear, I don’t know who it is.” 

“We think that you do, you just don’t know it.” Morgan says. 

Hotch jumps in, “Samantha was his target from the beginning, he knew her. He may have even known you. Think, was there anyone new in your lives? Someone who seemed a little too friendly too quickly? He would have made you uncomfortable, he was domineering and egotistical.” 

“Well, um I didn’t know him, I mean, I never met him,” Perkins says, “but there was a guy. Sam would complain about how annoying he was at work, a new hire. She said he talked her ear off about his life, asked too many personal questions...” He trails off for a minute looking between the three agents. “Do you think this man killed my fiancé?” 

“Possibly.” Hotch replies. “I have one more question and then we’ll leave.” Perkins nods, tight-lipped. “Did she mention that this man called her by a different name, maybe her middle name?” 

His face changed completely, mouth dropping open and blinking, “Yes! Yeah, she mentioned that he would call her ‘my Violet’ like every day, it bugged her.” 

“Thank you for your time.” 

- 

Hours had gone by while you stayed strapped to this god damned chair. The torture felt never-ending. The unsub landed blow after blow to your face and stomach, only offering a reprieve when you had temporarily passed out from the pain. You couldn’t see very well out of your left eye and your fingers were involuntarily twitching. The blood in your mouth was metallic and awful, adding to your nausea.  

“You know,” The man said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I appreciate the way you’re hanging on. It will make the ending a lot more fun.” 

If you had the energy, you would recoil from his closeness to your face. His breath repulsed you, but you stayed completely still, barely blinking, shallow breaths lifting and lowering your chest. 

“Mm, you really need to wake up.” He pushes your head back so that you’re forced to look at him. With his grip in your hair, he strikes you in the face with the back of his hand. “Nothin.” 

You couldn’t say with any real accuracy how much time had actually gone by since you were first taken, but you had a feeling that your time was running out. Your thoughts wandered to your team.  

You missed talking and joking with Prentiss and JJ, you missed Garcia’s cheery voice over the speaker phone. You wanted to hear Morgan’s stories about picking up women and Rossi’s input that made everyone laugh. You wanted to hear Reid ramble about nothing and everything. Mostly, you find yourself thinking about Hotch.  

You missed walking into the BAU and knowing you would find him in his office. You thought about his stern face and wanted to know what it would be like to reach your hands out and touch him, wipe away his anger and guilt. You wanted another silent morning where the two of you would sit in the conference room and drink your coffees, enjoying the comfortable silence of the early hours. 

You wanted to see his rare, but beautiful smile. The kind of thing that had to be earned; it was the best. As you thought more about him, the sadder you got. You should’ve told him, even just once, how much you liked his company... how much you liked him. 

- 

When Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss get back to the precinct, Reid’s discovered something. He and the rest of the team have been working the secret admirer angle, which they now knew was a coworker at Samantha’s law office. 

“All of the bouquets of violets left at the victim’s families homes came with a note, they all said the same thing. ‘My condolences, -K.M.’” Reid explains quickly. 

Hotch knows they’re running out of time, it was already past noon, and the team was restless, but this gave him a spur of hope that they were getting close. He pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia’s number. 

“Ready and waiting.” She said. 

“Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was stern if not a little shaky with anxiety, “was there anyone in Samantha Garner’s workplace with the initials K.M.?” 

“Uhhhh, nine.” 

“Cross-check those names with anyone arrested for minor charges, assault or something similar, he would be in his 30’s or 40’s now, white.” 

“Only one, a Kyle Mazdin, arrested four years ago for breaking into an ex-girlfriend's home and burglarizing it, then arrested again for a bar fight where he nearly killed a man.” 

“We’ll need his address immediately.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

20 minutes later Rossi and JJ were at Mazdin’s office, and the rest of the team was at Mazdin’s home. 

Hotch screeched to a stop in the front of the seemingly normal house, “Prentiss with me, Morgan, take the back of the house, Reid through the garage.” 

All of them nodded in silent acknowledgment. Morgan and Reid broke off, headed to the side gate, while Hotch and Prentiss entered through the front. 

“FBI! Kyle Mazdin, open up!” Hotch yelled. They only waited a few seconds before bursting inside. 

The door was unlocked, and they quickly moved from room to room on the first floor with their guns out and ready, yelling “Clear!” before heading upstairs. There was nothing on the second floor either, making Hotch exhale a frustrated breath.  

“Hold on.” Prentiss said, stopping Hotch. “You hear that?” 

Hotch furrowed his brows and listened. “No, I don’t-” 

Just then, a creaking noise from below. Like light footsteps, moving carefully.  

Prentiss and Hotch shared a look before running back down the stairs, but there was still nothing. Morgan and Reid were inside, also trying to find the source of the noise.  

“The rental car is in the garage.” Reid said quickly and quietly. 

“Anything out back?” Prentiss asked Morgan, who shook his head. 

Another noise came from behind the team as they stood in the living space, next to the staircase. Hotch moves silently over to the cabinet door that’s connected to the wall under the stairs. It swings open and his gun and flashlight point at nothing. It’s empty save for a few coats hanging on a rack. But looking down, he sees a square-shaped covering with a latch. 

Hotch motions for Morgan, who stands ready to open it. As soon as he does, Hotch points his flashlight and gun down, where he sees another set of stairs leading to a hidden basement. Hotch’s jaw tenses and his grip of the glock tightens as he makes his way down, hearing the footsteps of his team behind him. 

As he gets halfway down, he sees a lamp illuminating your figure which is tied to a chair in the center of the room. Mazdin is behind you, the metal wire already wrapped around your neck, not tight enough to kill you, but forceful enough to threaten. 

“Let her go now.” Hotch’s voice is strained, his anger making it hard to remain still. He can hear the rest of the team coming down the stairs and stopping by his side, also training their guns on the man. “You have nowhere to go, it ends here.” 

“Yes, it does.” Mazdin says, pulling the wire tighter against your throat, making you jerk back a little in your chair. 

Hotch dared to look at your face, bloody and bruised, and it made his stomach churn. You were conscious, making eye contact with him and taking shallow breaths. Hotch’s heart was beating out of his chest, unable to stop when he took a step closer to you. 

“Another step and she’s dead.” The man said, keeping his grip on the wire. 

Hotch’s gun was burning in his hand as it was aimed at the unsub’s head, finger twitching on the trigger. “Drop your weapon and no one else dies today.” Mazdin was taking deep, shaking breaths, debating his next move. Hotch knew the man didn’t want to die, but he most certainly didn’t want to go to jail either. “Everyone will know what you did, and why. How the love of your life betrayed you, how you got your payback... even how you managed to abduct a Federal Agent. But only if you let her go.” 

Hotch could tell the words were at least getting through to him. His grip slackened, his back straightening a bit. Morgan and Prentiss took the opportunity and rushed him, immediately tacking Mazdin to the floor. He struggled and yelled, but Morgan kept him still enough for Prentiss to cuff him. At the same time, Hotch rushed to Y/N, holstering his gun. 

“Get him out of here.” Hotch told Morgan, who roughly dragged Mazdin up to his feet and forced him up the staircase and out of the house where the local police had finally shown up. Reid and Prentiss followed, holstering their guns as well, only after Hotch informed them to grab paramedics for you. 

“It’s okay.” Hotch was saying as he knelt down to your level, all anger dissipating and worry replacing it. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He holds Y/N’s head in his hands gently, trying to gauge the damage to her face and body. The blood coming from her nose was extensive, and the blood on his hand indicated a serious head injury. He couldn’t tell if anything was broken just yet. 

“Okay, I’m going to get these off of you, alright?” Hotch asks you while tugging on the ropes, but your eyes were drifting closed. “No, Y/N, no you have to stay awake for me, you may have a concussion, the paramedics are on their way, okay?” She met his eyes finally and then smiled a little bit. It made his chest tighten in response. 

“Okay.” Her voice was uneven, probably because of lack of hydration and near strangulation. It made his frown deepen, but he made sure to work quickly at untying the restraints. “Aaron.” 

He stopped at the sound of his first name on your lips. It was very rare that you called him Aaron, it made his breath catch for a moment as he removed the last bit of rope from her ankles and looked up at her. Y/N was staring at him with an indescribable look on her face, exhaustion and relief but also pain. “Thank you for finding me... I knew that you would.” 

Hotch didn’t know what to say. He had sent her away- their last interaction wasn’t a very good one, but she was here, alive and thanking him. It made that warmth from the other night in the precinct return. “Let's get you out of here.” Hotch gently slipped his arms up underneath Y/N so that he could lift her to her feet as the paramedics came down. Her groan of pain made his jaw tense, but he didn’t stop. 

The EMT’s asked if she could walk and Y/N nodded, though she leaned most of her weight onto Hotch. He didn’t mind, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist and helping her up the stairs, into the living room. Once the two of you had made it outside, Hotch allowed the EMT’s to take her. She lay on the cot in the ambulance, and Hotch kept his hand in hers the whole ride to the hospital. 

He watched as you drifted off, thinking just how much trouble they had gone through just to get you to sleep. 

[jason-please-see-a-psychiatrist]

does anyone have some good recs for some spencer reid x bau! reader fics where y/n just gets put through the fuckin ringer. like she just gets so horribly traumatised on the job. preferably on ao3 or wattpad please :)))

[wishyouloveme]

I'll always get you back.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader

warnings: Use of kidnapping, profiling, violence, ...uhhh my dumbass brain? I thinks that's it

A/N: I'M SO SORRY. MY MOTIVATION FOR WRITING HAS GONE KURSPLAT ON THE GROUND. I promise I'm getting there, I promise. I kind of changed how the story went, so instead of being suspected, all they know is that it could be the reader!

requested? By Anonymous, "Hi, I saw that you write for Criminal Minds? I was wondering if I could request somethin for a Spencer Reid × Reader ? Preferably where Reader is the suspected Unsub of a case the BAU is working on. Reid is the one that goes undercover with the team as backup in a social setting to try and catch Reader in the act of getting ready to commit or kidnap.

Maybe Reader is able to profile to a certain degree and instantly realizes something is off with Reid, though they aren't sure what. You can kinda take it from there if you'd like ??

Or if you need / want more ideas for a case or anything like that, I can send another ask or try to DM you about some that I might have"

story under the cut

"are you serious?"

Aaron Hotchner was obviously pissed off. The unsub had gotten away again, another body, another person dead, because his team couldn't realize that they knew who it was.

"okay, new plan! Reid, your going undercover. we know where she will be, so go to the lucky pot cassino, and get her in the act."

Aaron says, tossing Spencer a wire, and then getting into the van.

Spencer never usually dresses in a tux and a tie, but this casino won't let you in without some sort of formal wear, and he had to look respectful and respectable in order to catch this unsubs eye.

You on the other hand, were in a long black dress, and gold heels, doing one of your favorite things. People watching. You watched as a woman stumbled over her feet, obviously having had too much to drink. You watch as the man who had won it all, had re-bet, and quite quickly, lost it all. You also watched when this new guy came in. dressed in a black suit and tie, looking like he didn't belong there.

Almost automatically you could tell something was weird about him, just by the sheer uncomfortableness he seemed to have walking around the casino, and how overly nervous he seemed as well. You made a mental note of it and went on with your night.

Spencer on the other hand, had already seen you, but was still figuring out who the unsub was. All he had seen was a pretty woman in a black dress, watching him. That could mean a multitude of things.

He watched you as you walked over to the pool table, running your hand teasingly across some guy's bicep, he made a mental note of how this guy seemed to have just lost a big bet.

You leaned up close to the man, your hold tight on his bicep as you purred a few words out, running your hand back down, before walking away, the Guy following you like a lost puppy.

Spencer realized this, and was trying to decide between following you, or sitting around to try and find the unsub. He followed you, knowing very well you could have been the unsub, and he couldn't just walk away, knowing someone might get killed because he made the wrong choice.

You walk outside with the guy

"You know, I haven't had something like this happen since-"

You shut him up by smacking him over the head with the end of a gun, and he fell to the floor in a clump, and you tsked, seeing Reid in the shadows

"it always sucks when you got to make them pass out. they always talk to much" You hum.

Putting your gun back in its holster, you go to grab the guy, only to see around ten cops swarming you with guns, and you automatically let out a grunt of annoyance, lifting you hands up and sighing.

"why?" Spencer asks you, to which you just smirked.

"those who pretend to be holier then god, will soon get to meet the maker"

YAY! i hope you liked it Anon! you can send in another request if you want, or if you just wanna talk to me without reveling yourself!

I have to say legally, i did not make the Gif!

all reposts and comments are welcome!

[0and0its0doctor0]

So I'll leave you gagged and bound

(Song that inspired the fic) Unsub!Spencer Reid x Reader Aaron Hotchner x Reader TRIGGERS: Kidnapping, Light blood, Forced kissing, Knives, minor violence, mentions of drugs Summary: You have been dating Aaron Hotchner for a few months and when he introduces you to the team Spencer Reid can't help but fall in love. The problem is Spencer's mental health is declining and fast. When he gets fired and realizes he has nothing to lose...he takes you. Will Aaron find you in time?

WC: 1,925

Why was your head throbbing? Your eyes blinked slowly open and you winced at the harsh overhead light that assaulted your blurry vision, Spencer was standing directly in front of you. You tried to move and that was when you realized you couldn’t. You tried to scream. “Shh. Shh. Shh.” Spencer said gently caressing a hand along the length of your face. His thumb wiped the drool dripping down your chin from the cloth that was stuffed in your mouth. His fingers trailed down your arms to the rope wrapping your wrists together behind the chair that you were bound to. He checked the tightness making sure that they weren’t hurting you, not yet at least. 

You whimpered as he caressed your face again and you sharply turned your head away from the touch. He roughly grabbed your chin, squeezing it and turning your face back so you were looking at him again. “None of that. Eyes forward.” He said, giving you a smile as he leaned forward and kissed your lips the best he could with the gag in your mouth. His thumbs gently brushed the tears off your cheeks and you lunged at him not getting very far since you were tied to a chair. Spencer chuckled and took a step back clapping. “Now there’s the fire I fell in love with.” He said fondly. 

You struggled violently in the chair, the rope digging into your sore flesh. The rope burn was the least of your worries at the moment. You tried arguing and yelling but your words were distorted and muffled by the cloth. This wasn’t exactly how you were planning on spending your day. You were walking to your car in the parking garage after visiting Aaron when you were hit over the head with something hard. You could feel blood trickling down the side of your face. You still couldn’t believe it was Spencer Reid standing in front of you. You had met Spencer when Aaron introduced you to the team. You had been dating Aaron for a few months now and had met the team a small handful of times. You tried to talk again even though your words just came out as more drool. 

“Let's get this off you.” He said leaning forward to unwrap the towel from your face. “Why are you doing this?” You asked, a shakiness to your voice. “Well Hotch fired me. Something about mental health. I was becoming ‘unhinged.’ I had feelings for you the second Hotch introduced you to us. I realized now, I really had nothing to lose and I wanted you bad, so I decided if I can’t have you, no one gets to have you.” He said, holding the knife up watching as it glinted in the light. 

You gulped and winced as the blade touched the skin of your shoulder. He drug it across your skin watching as goosebumps followed in its wake till he got to the strap of your dress. A quick flick of the wrist and the strap fell down, he repeated the action on the other side and watched with fascination as the fabric slipped down to pool at your hips leaving you in a bra. You struggled against your binds again. “Ah Ah. That will get you nowhere.” He said brushing back a strand of hair. 

—----------------------------------

“Hey Hotch what’s wrong?” David asked, looking at Aaron who was staring at his phone as it sat on the desk in front of him. “She always texts me or calls me when she gets home. It’s like an unspoken rule. But it’s been over an hour since she left and she hasn’t contacted me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” Aaron said with a sigh dragging his hand over his face. “Did you try calling her?” David asked and Aaron looked up, his brows furrowed deeply. “6 times no answer. Which just really isn’t like her. I have a bad feeling.” Aaron said, grabbing his phone and standing up. “I’m just going to see if Garcia can pull up the garage cams just to make sure she got to her car okay and left. Just to have a little piece of mind.” He said walking over to Penelope's office. He knocked on the door then stepped inside.

“Hey Garcia, can you pull up the garage camera footage? I just want to make sure she gets to her car and takes off.” He fidgeted nervously with a pen in his hand and Penelope nodded, pulling up the footage. When he saw your car still sitting there he got concerned. “What if I try to ping her cellphone and see where it is? Maybe she walked to the coffee shop down the street or something?” She suggested and Aaron frowned for a moment not really comfortable with the invasion of privacy but eventually agreed. Penelope typed quickly. “Okay. It’s still in the parking garage which is kind of weird.” Penelope looked up just as Aaron walked out of her office.

Aaron made his way to the parking garage and saw your car still sitting in its parking spot. When he walked up and saw your phone on the ground next to several spots of blood he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He ran back to Penelope’s office and threw the door open. “Pull up the garage cameras for the last hour. Fast Forward.” He ordered, watching the screens intently. When he saw a person in a hoodie walk up and nail you over the head he cursed. “Can you zoom in and see who it is?” He asked and she typed on her keyboard trying to pull up a better angle. “Nothing.” She then got an idea and pulled up the traffic camera facing the parking garage entrance. “It was Spencer.” She gasped looking back at the computer screens, she was hoping that she was wrong even though she knew she wasn’t.

—--------------------------------

A hand caressed your face again, that seemed to be one of his favorite things to do and his thumb brushed across your bottom lip. You kissed his thumb just to draw it in a little so you could bite down hard. He smacked you across the face and you could taste blood in your mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He said gently touching the red mark on your face. You flinched away from his touch and he pouted. “You know Aaron will find me. You know he will kill you.” You said glaring up at the man who simply shrugged. 

“I know. It’s not like I’m exactly hiding. They’re probably tracking my car or my cell phone right now. It will lead them to one of the old abandoned warehouses in the Fremont district and they will come bursting in. Bla bla bla.” He said running a hand through your hair. “But till then you are mine.” He said leaning forward to kiss you again, this time shoving his tongue in your mouth and groaning slightly as he tasted the faint spots of blood from biting your lip when he smacked you. 

“You see, I used to be a really successful Agent. Sure I had some problems with Dilaudid and other things but I worked hard and I contributed to the team. But then I started developing signs of mild schizophrenia and I panicked. I didn’t want to end up like my mother. So I started taking medication but the medication just wasn’t working. And it started getting worse. Started affecting my work. And I guess Hotch started to notice. Well now here we are.” He said pacing again. You kept quiet but started rubbing your wrists together feeling the ropes start to loosen. You just had to hope that Aaron was tracking Spencer’s car or cell phone or something. Which thankfully he was. 

You felt the ropes slip from your wrists, your feet weren’t tied to the chair and you were glad you were wearing boots today. When you heard the sound of sirens approaching you noticed Spencer started to panic a little bit. He walked up to you and placed both hands on either side of your face. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He said and you leaned back a little managing to deliver a decent kick to the center of his chest knocking him down. You stood up and booked it to the door, throwing it open just as he grabbed you from behind and yanked you back. “Clever but not clever enough.” He said holding the knife to your throat as the rest of the team stood in a line with their guns drawn. 

“Spencer, I need you to drop the knife and let her go.” Aaron said his voice was calm and level as he looked at the two of you. “You know I can’t do that Hotch.” Spencer said with a sigh. “Come on Reid, we can get you help.” Derek said with a frown. Aaron holstered his weapon and stepped forward causing Spencer to step back and press the knife tighter against your skin drawing little droplets of blood. “Come on Spencer. She didn’t do anything to you. You don’t need to hurt her. Deep down I think we both know I’m the one you want to hurt. I fired you.” He said taking another hesitant step forward. Spencer bit his lip and looked at his previous team, his family, all standing there. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He said quietly, it was like his reality was starting to shift back to normal. 

You felt like your heart was going to explode out of your chest with how fast it was beating at the moment and you winced as the knife pierced your skin a little bit more. He sighed and shoved you towards Aaron roughly causing you to hit the ground right at his feet. Spencer dropped the knife and dropped to his knees putting his hands behind his head. Aaron rushed forward to pick you up in his arms and quickly run you to the other side of the SUV putting you out of harm's way as Derek and Emily both came forward to handcuff Spencer. Derek pulled him into a hug not really sure what else to do.

You felt tears on your cheeks and you started sobbing as Aaron wrapped his jacket around your shoulders buttoning it up to cover up your bra. “Hey shh. It’s okay. I have you now.” He said leaning in to kiss you repeatedly. You were quiet but shaking like a leaf as the paramedics checked you out. After putting a few bandaids over the cuts he made and giving you an ice pack for the rope burn you were cleared to go home with Aaron who quickly took you back to his apartment. 

You changed into one of his shirts and he pulled you into bed holding you close to his chest with his hand resting over your heart so he could feel the steady beat under his fingers reminding him that you were still alive. “I’m so sorry.” He muttered into the side of your neck as he placed kisses against your skin. “It wasn’t your fault.” You tried to reassure him. He nuzzled into your shoulder and held you even tighter, almost making it hard to breathe. “I love you. So much.” He said and you finally smiled for the first time that night. “I love you too.” You said kissing his forehead as he rested his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat.  

[authorred]

Sad/Grieving Spencer Reid x Missing/Dead Reader headcanons because sad Spencer gives me serotonin in a twisted way

Preface: You were either announced missing (and presumed dead) or were killed and/or died somehow. There were a lot of things Spencer wanted to do with you, and a lot of things he didn’t do with you.

Rip reader, but your death and/or absence is giving me content to write, so be happy about that :)))

Warning(s): Mentions of death due to unspecified reasons, mentions of kidnapping and possible murder

At the initial report of your missing persons/murder, Spencer is stunned into a few seconds of silence

If he witnessed your death and/or kidnapping, he’ll collapse to the ground

He’ll blame himself, even if he doesn’t admit it, he will

To continue Point 1, he’ll ask Morgan or Garcia or Hotch or whoever to confirm it again, and then ask to see the report himself

He’ll start to get a little manic because he’s in disbelief

If you’re missing, he’ll frantically want to search for you himself

If you’re dead, he wants to see you

The team has to hold him back/down to keep him from acting by himself

He’ll cry. Hard.

When he’s alone he’ll hug something of yours to his chest, curl up, and cry

If you’re dead, and he goes to see/identify your body, he’ll get over his germaphobia to place his head on your chest, or hold your hand

If you’re missing, he’ll either drag himself into the station or work from home

Cries almost every day initially, or is on the brink of tears

Morgan and Garcia try to check in on him often to make sure he’s alive (bare minimum)

He’ll be silent at your funeral

He’ll continue to look for you if you’re missing, and won’t give up if your case is dropped

He’ll get mad at the others for giving up

If you’re dead, he’ll visit your grave every day and sit by it whilst rambling on about what he did that day, or what he didn’t do, and tell you how much he misses you and wishes you were alive

He’ll apologize a lot

If you’re missing, he’ll work almost obsessively

Will not get that much sleep

Goes to the team if he finds a breakthrough or a lead

If the team discourages him from pursuing it, he’ll probably get very frustrated

Will have a lot of silent breakdowns

Might not function properly with you gone

Sleeps with your sweater or some sort of your clothing to smell you

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

I love your x teen reader fics <3 I have a request if you feel like writing it :)

Spencer x son!teen!reader where people expected Spencers son to be as smart and articulated as he is, but in reality his son is clumsy, adhd ridden with short attention span. But all he wants to do is prove to his dad he can be as smart and useful as he is. One day reader goes too far and accidentally gets involved in a case (kidnapped/hurt/whatever you want I don’t mind).

Spencer Reid X Son Teen Reader

Request: where people expected Spencers son to be as smart and articulated as he is, but in reality his son is clumsy, adhd ridden with short attention span. But all he wants to do is prove to his dad he can be as smart and useful as he is. One day reader goes too far and accidentally gets involved in a case.

Set in season 12

Third person pov...

It had been 2 months and 10 days since Y/N Reids dad had been in jail for, the teen had been staying with his Godmother JJ and her husband Will, as they didn't want him to be alone.

Currently the 14 year old is in a spare room writing things down in a notebook. He knows his Dad would never kill anyone-unless they were an Unsub.

"It has to been Scratch that bastard targeted Hotch now Dad for some reason" he mutters biting the pencil, without him knowing Micheal sneaks up behind.

"Rahhhh" yells the toddler making the hyperfocued teen jump from his chair, of course with how clumsy he is he ends up knocking it and himself over.

E/C eyes widened as he landed hard. "Ouch" he mutters rubbing the back of his head hearing cheerful laugh above. He looks uo to see Micheal.

The little toddler had suck up behind him. "Micheal I told you the knock before coming in" he says making the laughing toddler stop and giggle.

Y/N smirks and leaps up grabbing the little boy and tickling him, the toddler squeals with laugher and wriggles around trying to escape Y/N let's him.

The young boy runs out of the room giggling Y/Ns laugher stops as he looks back at his notes then closes the door and reaches under his bed.

It was a copy of the file the team have on Mr Scratch, Y/N knew is was him but didn't know how to find him.

The teen wasn't like his Genius dad at all while his dad was smart and articulated Y/N was the exact opposite. Y/N was clumsy, adhd ridden with short attention span.

But over the last couple of months Y/N had been giving it his all into finding Mr Scratch because his dad's teams couldn't do it by themselves.

Little did Y/N know that as he was trying to solve the case, he was being watched. The one behind Spencer's misfortune was an old enemy of the BAU, Peter Lewis, alias ‘Mr. Scratch’.

Seeing an opportunity, later that week he went after William in the hopes that he would be able to get the information he needed to take down the BAU.

The Boy was walking back to his Godmothers house, infront of him were Henry and Micheal as he walked he kept his focus on his shoes.

He stepped one foot on one square as he did this he didn't hear someone appear behind him suddenly was knocked unconscious no time to react.

Hours later JJ and Will couldn't contact Y/N, Michael and Henry hadn't seen or heard from him as they were walking home.

The team gathered trying to figure out who took Y/N, as JJ was looking in his room she found the copy of the file of Scratch.

She bought it to Quantico to show everyone. "He was looking into Spencers case and Mr Scratch" she says slamming the file and Y/Ns notes onto the table in the briefing room.

The teen had been abducted by Mr. Scratch and taken to an undisclosed location. The BAU team worked tirelessly to locate him.

They frantically searched for any leads and evidence that could help them find Y/N and bring him home safely.

With Y/N...

The 14 year old slowly came to he was in a room, he could feel his hands and legs strapped down on a chair.

He could feel everything which meant he was unharmed but was in some kind if state his head felt all fuzzy and eyes blurred.

"What happend" he mutters twisting his wrists and legs seeing how tight the restraints are but of course he was taken by a professional.

The teen waits he can't do anything now except wait for the team to find him and catch Mr Scratch, he looks around the room he's in.

It wasn't to big but large enough, Scratch could drug him make him hallucinate but instead he hadn't which confused the teen.

"Awake I see" comes a voice making Y/N flinch, he looked around as best he can and spotted him. "You what do you want?" He demands making the psycho laugh.

"What I want, I want your father and his team to suffer" Says Scratch getting closer to the teen, Y/N wriggles again not able to sit still as the Man get closer.

Y/N glares "you're not getting anything out of me you bastard!" He yells the psycho smirks before the sent of sage sent Y/N off in a daze.

The teen tried to resist but instantly vegan hallucinating jsut as Scratchs previous victims had done.

Scratch left the boy on his own but watched from afar as he hallucinate, in Y/Ns hallucination he was back in the court room when he dad was denied bail, But something felt different.

He sat in the stands behind his dad next to JJ holding her hand as he watched his dad at front.

"Bail denied" the judge speaks smacking the hammer down, everyone on Reid side stood up ready to argue but with one look from hotch they quietened down.

Y/N was among them, he watched at his dad locked eyes with him, he tried not to cry he really did but as he was held by his Godmother he cried and cried and cried until he was outside the court room.

He was surrounded by the team getting hugged left and right being patted on the shoulder and reassured that his father would be okay, minutes later his dad walks out.

Before the door closes Y/N in running into his dad's arms ducking under the cuffs on his wrists.

"Dad!" Sobs the teen hugging his dad tightly, but his dad didn't hug back like he did before.

Instead he stood motionlessly. "I'm not going to see you again Son, forget about me"he says emotionlessly.

Y/N feels himself shaking his head as he stares at the man who wasn't his dad. "No dad I won't forget you!" He yells trying to get him to see reason.

Spencer just smiles at his son is being walked away. "No dad! Please no don't leave me" he hears himself shout.

He opens his eyes and see "JJ" he mumbles staring at his Godmothers face wondering if she was real, the woman laughs behind a sniffle.

She pets his head gently as he is untied and put onto a gurney and in ambulance. "It's okay N/N your okay Scratch is dead your Dad is free okay he will meet you there" she says to him as he is taken in the ambulance.

Finally, after days of investigating, the team has found Y/N, safe and sound, and Spencer was free from Prison he was on his way to the hospital to meet his son.

The team was overjoyed to find him, but their relief was short-lived when they learned the truth about why Y/N had been taken. He had uncovered evidence that pointed to Mr. Scratch. Knowing that he was the one behind it all, the team worked to bring him to justice.

In the end, the BAU team was able to bring Peter Lewis down and Spencer was able to see his son safe and sound.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, I'm currently trying to catch up with all the reqest I've gotten sorry if I don't get to yours for a while.

Request are open!

Word count: 1340

[theflowerrooms]

His Game Masterlist

dark!Spencer Reid x gn!Reader fic, it’s a kidnapping fic!

This will include dark topics including but not limited to; murder, death, mentions of noncon, dubcon and kidnapping

Summary; after working at the BAU in Quantico for some time, you find that Dr. Spencer Reid has taken a liking to you, so much so, that he’s willing to take you for himself, whether you want him to or not. (a kidnapping fanfic)

Parts to this story:

Chapter One, Ghostly Presences

Chapter Two, Angel

Chapter Three, Pistol Kisses

Chapter Four, Purple Stars

Chapter Five, Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter Six, Playing House

more to come~

Also if you want to be tagged,,, let me know <3

[multifandomlover01]

How Far Have I Fallen? How High Shall I Soar?

Spencer Reid x GN!BAU!Reader (Fem coded bc apparently I can't help myself)

Warnings: canon typical violence and abuse such as beating, man being very much not nice to person (also mentions of stalking and killing), some description of it afterwards (nothing too graphic), traumatic experience in general, description of kissing/french kissing, slightly sub!Spencer bc it’s based on early seasons Reid and I have a thing about it

WC: ~4.6k

Summary: reader gets kidnapped (there's the exclusive camera video feed to team; two different locations), and the kidnapper tries to force them to choose a team member to die and Reid freaks out and realizes just how deep his feelings for them are. Fluffy care afterwards ensues.

Disclaimer: posting bc general idea is done but there are time skips/gaps in the story… but don’t worry about them, just go with it

Inspired by 2x14 and 2x15 (similar situation but it’s not Tobias, it’s a different person but I guess timeline/placement could be the same)

gif credit: idiotlovers

You sit in a chair with your wrists and ankles bound with rope. Your clothes are dirty and torn and you have bruises on your arms and face.

Your captor plops tripod with a camera attached to it down in front of you and turns it on. He walks back over to you. He stands behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, making you cringe. He wore a mask so the BAU couldn’t identify him. He'd been smart about setting up a location that the BAU could track and get to but not be able to link to him specifically. They had no idea who he was. And he planned to keep it that way.

“Your team has seven members on it. Pick one to die. The others can live.” He says calmly, and his tone is a stark contrast to the words he is speaking.

“No.” you shake your head, horrified at the notion. You try to lift your head to turn to face him but you are too weak and tired. Instead your head just kinda hangs a bit.

“Do it. Or I’ll pick one for you. Or…maybe I’ll just kill them all.” He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Kill me.”

“You said you weren’t one of them. Why sacrifice yourself for them? I asked you if you were like those other scum sucking feds and you said no.” (lol no real explanation given for this line’s inclusion here, it’s taken from the source material/episode; could have it be that he'd stalked you. He hates feds but you don't seem all that much like a fed so you intrigued him and so he became obsessed with you, hence why he stalked and kidnapped you. He thinks you're on his side against your team because you'd told him that but that's just what you thought he wanted to hear at the time and you were going along with him so as not to upset him but now that he'd threatening to kill your teammates, your family, you have to protect them)

“I lied. Kill me. I’d die for them, any one of them, all of them. I’ll sacrifice myself before I let you kill any one of them.”

“There must be one of them you’d be willing to let go of. Come on. Not a one?” He teases lightly as he circles around to face you, but at an angle so the camera's view of you is not obscured.

“Not. One.” You grind out as you look up at him.

“Not even your boss? You don’t hate your boss?”

“Enough to pick him for you to kill?! No!”

“Come on! Just pick one or I kill all of them!” He said as if he hadn't planned on killing all of them eventually one by one anyway.

“I can’t! Please don’t make me!” You plead with him. But it’s a futile effort. He’s adamant.

“Choose one! If not your boss, perhaps the genius chatterbox, then?” He smirks.

Your blood runs cold as he says this. “Don’t you dare touch him!” You snap. Had he been stalking all of you? The entire team?

“Oh? Or what?” He scoffs as he grabs your chin, making you look at him. “You’re restrained here, sweetheart. What will you do to me if I kill your precious little boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You murmur.

“And now he never will be because I’m going to kill him.”

“No! Please!” You sob. “Don’t hurt him!”

He turns your head, making you look at the camera.

"Say goodbye." He whispered in your ear. His hot breath against your skin made you cringe.

You whimper softly.

"Do it. Say goodbye. Tell him you love him. You won't get another chance." He is taunting you now.

Tears fell from your eyes. You shook your head.

“Do it!” His grip on your chin tightened.

You took a shaky breath.

“I-I love you, Spencer.” You spoke and looked directly into the camera.

He lets go of your chin and goes over to cut the camera off.

He goes over to a chest and opens it.

"Wh-what're you doing?" You ask, tears falling from your eyes.

"Preparing." He grunts and you hear him clinking around in the chest.

"Please...just kill me...don't...don't hurt anybody else. You have me. Do whatever you want with or to me but please leave my team alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. My mission is to wipe out the scourge upon our country that is the federal agent. I had hoped that you'd be on my side...but if you're not...so be it. I'll do it without you. I'll do it without your approval."

"Why are you so obsessed with me and what I think? What's so special about me?"

"You were different!" He stalks over to you, standing in front of you.

"How? Because I'm not some trigger happy jackass? Is that all you think feds are? We are a very diverse group of people."

He strikes you hard across the face, causing you to gasp.

"Don't talk back to me. You feds are all more alike than you think. You're a drone. Just like the rest of them, not capable of independent thought. You're a puppet on some strings, being manipulated by your masters."

If you didn't already think this guy was seriously disturbed, you certainly did now. You knew not what masters he was referring to but figured it could be some kind of conspiracy he believed in.

"I don't...have any masters...unless you mean the government itself but...I'm just trying to help people. I save people."

"You're so brainwashed that you're blind to your true purpose." He crouches down to get in your face.

"My true purpose is to help people."

"That's just what they want you to think you're doing."

"So what am I really doing, then?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You're too far gone."

"Try me."

"You're being manipulated and you don't even realize it."

"Manipulated by what? The government that I work for?"

"That which controls the government that you represent, yes."

"And what...controls the government?" You ask reluctantly, sure that the next thing out of his mouth was going to be something batshit crazy.

"A black cabal."

Aaaand there it was. You actually chuckle a bit, which earns you another hard slap across the face.

"There is no...black cabal. I don't know what drugs you're on, buddy. But that's just not true."

"It is true! I know it is! You...you're just too blind to see it." He huffs as he pushes himself off of the chair and away from you. "You'll see! After I eliminate its agents, it won't have a leg to stand on!"

He continues preparing before he leaves the building.

"No! Wait!" You try to stop him but it is useless. He's disregarded you now. You're nothing but a useless drone to him now. After he killed your entire team, he'd probably kill you too.

You try desperately to free yourself from the ropes that bind you but it is no use. They are very tight around your wrists. You are just left there, bound, ruminating on what could possibly be happening right now. Is your captor going to succeed in harming your team members, your family? Are they safe?

-

The video feed cuts off on the monitor in front of the team. A subconscious and collectively held breath is released.

“Reid, we need to get you to a secure location and put a guard on you. Just as a precaution. We know good and well what he’s capable of.” Hotch says, already pulling his phone out to make some calls to ensure Reid was safe.

“N-no, I need to help find Y/N!” Spencer protested, still reeling from the confession he just heard. He was shaking and he didn’t even realize it. Seeing the person he loved bruised and beaten and being held captive by a perverted madman broke his heart and made his blood boil.

“We need to make sure you’re safe.” Hotch told him, trying to be proactive about the situation but also upon seeing Spencer’s reaction, trying to be sensitive to him and his obvious feelings.

“I need to make sure Y/N is safe!” You were the only thing on his mind. Your safety came before his in his books. If the unsub wanted to come after him, let him come, Reid thought. He’d be in for quite the surprise. Reid was smart and he was pissed, a dangerous combination.

Hotch sighed. He could see how distressed Spencer was. He never knew Reid felt the way he did about Y/N. Spencer himself didn’t truly know how deep his feelings ran.

“They’ll be fine. We’ll continue working on it. Garcia will continue trying to locate them. We’ll find them.” Hotch tries to reassure Spencer but knows there’s a slight possibility that they might not and that he’ll lose a valuable member of his team.

“Please…we have to find them.”

“We will, Reid. We will. I promise. But we need to get you to a safe house right now, ok?"

Spencer reluctantly agrees to be taken to a safe house. He is loaded up into an SUV and taken there by Derek. He is silent nearly the whole ride there, which takes about an hour. Derek glances at him every so often, a look of concern on his face.

"You ok, Reid?" Derek takes a chance to ask.

Spencer looks over at Derek with a solemn expression.

"No. I'm not. Y/N's been kidnapped, beaten. And instead of working on saving them, what am I doing? Hiding? It doesn't feel right."

"You really care for them, don't you?"

"More than I think I realized." Spencer whispers as he and Derek share a look before he goes back to looking out the window.

"We'll save them, ok? I promise."

"We'd better. I don't know if I could live with myself if anything happened to them."

Eventually, they get to the safehouse. Derek helps Spencer unload his bags. The safehouse is a depressing sight. It is a ramshackle building in the middle of nowhere. It looks like no one has used it for quite some time. Who knows if the government pays people to take care of these places. They need to be looked after, though.

Spencer collapsed into a chair while Derek checked out the place, making sure everything was locked up tightly. The electricity worked. The water worked. There was apocalypse prepper type food that was still safe to eat. It seemed like they were set.

-

You collapsed on the ground, dropping the shovel.

“Dig.” The man orders you.

“I…I can’t.” You murmur weakly.

“You’re weak. Pathetic.” He growls as he kicks you in the stomach. You groan. You then hear footsteps. You quickly grab the discarded gun that was on the ground, you aim and shoot him.

Despite your weakened state, you were still an expert marks(person?) and you were indeed able to effectively kill him with that one bullet.

“One bullet left, you son of a bitch.” (He'd made a comment or taunted about there not being even one bullet left to shoot him or yourself with. You insisted there was exactly one left and that you’d kill him with it...Clue vibes?)

“Y/N!” Spencer shouts, his tone is frantic after hearing the gunshot.

“Over…here!” You shout back weakly.

He rushes toward you.

“Y/N! Oh, thank God you’re ok.”

He engulfs you immediately in a hug as you stand up and stagger towards him.

“Thought you didn’t believe in God. Thought my own wit and merit got me out alive.”

“So you both can get credit, then. Now…just…shush and let me hold you.” He murmurs as he buried his face in your neck as he has his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Thought you hated physical contact.” You whisper softly.

“Never when it comes to you and certainly not right this moment. I thought I told you to shush.” His tone is light and teasing.

“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.” You chuckle weakly.

“You’re right. I’m not…but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you.”

“You care about me?”

“Always have. I’ve been foolish for not demonstrating it more to you.”

“Oh, I think you demonstrate it enough.”

“No. I don’t. What I feel for you is…indescribable. It simply isn’t possible to convey to you in words or actions just how deeply I’ve…fallen in love you with.”

You pull away from the hug, looking up at him in disbelief.

“You’ve…fallen in love with me?” You had to make sure this wasn’t all a big joke being played on you.

“Wholly and utterly.” He looks down at you with a soft gaze in his eyes. He holds your hands in his, being careful of the rope burn. He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your wrists.

“Y-you mean that?” You asked hopefully, your heart soaring at how tender he is being right now.

“Absolutely. Did you mean it when you said it or…did you only say it because you were forced to?”

“I meant it.” You say sincerely.

“Really? You did?” Spencer could see and hear the sincerity on your face and in your voice but he needed you to confirm it verbally for him. “You…you love me?”

“Completely and absolutely.” You mirror his response.

“I really want to kiss you right now. Can I please kiss you? I know you’ve just been through a trauma so the timing isn’t great so feel free to-“

“Spencer.” You cut him off.

“Y-yes?” He normally felt very sad and disheartened when people cut him off but he knew that you weren't doing it to be rude. He was doing more than rambling right now, he was spiraling.

“You can kiss me.” You smile up at him.

He brought his hands up and cupped your face. His hands were big on your face, making you feel smaller than you already were.

“I love you.” He whispers, looking into your soul as he looks into your eyes.

“I love you, too.”

He leans down and you lean up. Your lips meet his. They were very soft. The kiss is tentative at first but then he presses more firmly into it. You press back. He presses even harder into it. He’s kissing you like he’d die if he didn’t. He’s kissing you like it’s his sole purpose on this Earth. He kisses you for as long as his breathing capacity allows him to, pushing it to its limits, making his lungs burn almost before he pulls away, panting heavily.

“Let me…um…t-take you back to the hotel?”

“Or you could kiss me like that again.”

“Y-yeah…or I could…do that. That…that’s a good…idea…” he inches closer and your lips connect again. It feels like heaven for both of you. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You know…you’ve been through…a trauma. Maybe…we shouldn’t…be doing…this…” he says in between kisses.

“I love you but please shut up and keep kissing me, pretty boy. I need to feel you. I need to make sure you’re alive and that I’m alive.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your lips reconnected. Your tongue runs along the seam of his lips and he eagerly parts his lips to allow you to slip your tongue in. Your tongue caressed his tongue. He had to suppress a moan at how good you felt against him like this. He might've guessed he'd be such a whore for you but it still shocked him how he felt like he absolutely wanted to melt into you right now.

He felt no shame in allowing you to take your frustrations out on him through the kiss. You'd been through a trauma. He knew you needed it. It helped that he was naturally submissive and that he had been head over heels in love with you almost since the day he'd met you. Whether or not he knew if you were more dominant or submissive, he certainly knew what you were capable of now. You seemed to be desperately trying to keep him as close to you as possible as you tried to feel as much as him as you possibly could. Spencer wondered if this feeling was as addictive to you as it was to him. He craved more of you.

The two of you soon just became a cacophony of little moans and whimpers as you lost yourselves in each other. You two couldn't seem to get enough of each other. You seemed to be feeding off of the other's energy, letting it fuel your own.

"We...really...should...get back to...the hotel..." Spencer murmurs in between kisses.

You whimper. You felt like you needed him near you like you needed air to breathe. You'd simply die if he wasn't near.

"Shh, shh. It's ok, it's ok. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere." He whispers as he caresses your face.

"Don't leave me, please. I need you." You cling to him.

"I won't leave you. I'm right here, ok?"

“You promise?” You murmur into his chest as you rest your head upon it.

“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You nudge him.

“Well it’s true.”

“But I don’t want you to die.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep my promise, then, and stay right here with you. I won’t go anywhere. You can come and stay in my room for tonight, yeah? I can stay right by your side…all night long. How’s that sound?”

“Ok…”

He led you to an SUV after you'd been checked out and cleared by a medical person and opened the passenger side door for you, helping you in and even buckling you into your seat before going over to the driver’s side. He didn't often drive but he was able to, he had a license. But for you he'd do anything. And you certainly were in no condition to be driving right now. He glanced at you periodically as he drove to make sure you were doing alright.

"We'll get you to the hotel. We'll get you tucked into bed and then you can rest, ok?"

"Ok," You smiled as you curled up in the seat to rest. Spencer was going to lecture you about the proper way to be seated in a car but decided against it. He drove ever so carefully as there was precious cargo on board, a baby on board, if you will. He wonders if Hotch still has his sticker from when Jack was born and if he'd let him have it...as a joke, of course.

He drives very cautiously to the hotel and parks the SUV. He looks over at you to see you have fallen asleep. He smiles softly at the sight before unbuckling his and your seatbelts before getting out of the car. He goes around to the passenger's side and opens the door. He nudges you lightly.

"Y/N...we're at the hotel." He whispers softly so as not to startle you.

You stir. "Hmm?"

"Hey." He says softly. "We're at the hotel. Do you need help getting out or walking?"

"I'm not a baby, Spencer." You chuckle lightly, joking somewhat.

"Right...right...of course you're not. I know that. I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were."

"It's ok. It's sweet that you care, I guess." You smile as you start to get out of the car and he helps you.

You walk hand-in-hand into the hotel lobby and head for the elevator. Spencer flashes his FBI badge at the receptionist who gives you both a quizzical look. Spencer looks over at you as you stand in front of the elevator to make sure that you're doing alright. You are. You look tired but you're alive and doing ok and soon you will be sleeping.

You enter the elevator when the doors open and Spencer presses the correct floor button. The elevator ascends. When the doors open, he leads you towards his room.

"Is there anything I can get you from your room?" He asks as he gets his room key out and opens the door.

"Um...maybe some melatonin. Oh, but I don't have my room key on me. That'd be back at the precinct in my bag that I carry." You think as you enter his room

"You certainly could use it. and that's ok. I'll just go down to reception and ask for an extra or a master key. Anything else? Clothes? A stuffed animal perhaps."

He had said it so non-judgmentally but your eyes snapped to him.

"Wh-what?" You asked, slightly panicked.

"You do pack at least one stuffed animal for cases, don't you?"

"How...did you know that?" You asked, suspicious of him.

"I'm an expert profiler." He shrugs as he smiles

You narrow your eyes at him, not quite believing that that is the reason.

He chuckled. "Ok, fine. I may have saw one one time when I was putting your bags away on the jet and one wasn't zipped properly and I went to zip it and...I felt something soft and then investigated. I know I shouldn't have. That's your personal property. But It's ok. I'm not judging you."

"Really? You're not?" You ask hopefully. You were always so afraid of being judged.

"Not at all. Stuffed animals can actually provide a great sense of comfort, especially during times of stress. It may be just the thing you need right now."

"Yeah, ok. I um...I keep them in my blue suitcase. It's by the closet. Clothes should be in the closet itself. A t-shirt and a pair of shorts should be fine."

"Got it. Anything else I can get you?"

"No. I think that's it."

"Alright. Why don't you strip out of those dirty clothes and hop in the shower. I can bring you your toiletries bag too, if you'd like."

"I'd like that, thank you."

"Alright. I'll be right back, then, ok? I have to go get an extra key for you room from reception downstairs. But then I'll just be right across the hall for a minute, ok?"

"Ok."

He left the room. You stepped into the bathroom. You slowly stripped out of your torn and dirty clothes, leaving them on the floor. You look at yourself in the mirror. You have bruises on your face. You face is pale. There were bags under your eyes. You looked like hell. You wondered why on Earth Spencer would have kissed you as much as he did with you looking like this.

You shake that thought from your mind and replace it with another. Spencer cares about you. That much was obvious. You start the water in the shower. You wait for it to warm up and while it is warming up, you hear Spencer come back into the room.

"Y/N? I have your clothes. I can just crack the door open and slide them in on the floor."

"Alright."

He cracks the door open and slides the clean clothes into the room. He then slides you toiletries bag in.

"I will put your melatonin and your stuffed animal on your bed, ok?"

"Ok."

He closes the door and you grab your shampoo, loofah, and soap from your bag before you step into the shower. It feels good to get all of the caked blood and dirt off of your body. You allow the warm water to seep into your skin. You grab your shampoo bottle and squirt some into your hands before carding your fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. An image of your captor grabbing your hair and pulling you by it flashes through your mind. You soothe your head subconsciously even though you had not just been caused physical pain. As you continue to massage the shampoo into your scalp, running your fingers along it and scraping your nails against it, you inadvertently grasp your hair after you've scratched too hard at your scalp as the image and feeling of you being dragged by your hair plagued. You winced once you felt the pain and let go. You drop your hands from your head and stand still for a second. You cannot resist the urge to bring a hand back up to your head to rub at it. You do this at an increasing pace and then suddenly stop.

Your hair is shampooed so you slowly reach for your soap and loofah. You lather the loofah up with the soap bar. As you clean your body, you make sure to clean the last bit of dirt and grime from it. You wish to fully cleanse yourself from the awful trauma you'd just endured. You hand skims over the bruise on your calf from where your captor had kicked you harshly from behind because you weren't walking fast enough in the cemetery.

Once fully cleaned and showered, you turn the water off and exit the shower. You dry your hair off before wrapping the towel around your body. You dry your body off completely before putting the clean clothes on.

You exit the bathroom. Spencer looks up from his book at you as you do.

“Hey.” He says softly. “Feeling better? You’re looking better.”

You smile and nod as you approach your bed. You take the melatonin gummy and grab your stuffed animal before climbing into bed with him.

“Oh um I uh I thought maybe you’d want to uh sleep in a separate bed…you know…for comfort.”

“I’m comfortable right here.” You whisper as you snuggle up to him. “This ok with you?”

He looks down at you as you rest your head on his shoulder. His cheeks tinge pink.

“Y-yeah…more than ok. I just wanna make sure that you’re comfortable.”

“Well I assure you that I am.”

“Good. Would you like me to read to you? Might help lull you to sleep. It helps Morgan.” He chuckles.

You chuckle too. “Yeah. You can read to me. I like hearing you talk.”

“R-Really? You do? You mean that?” He was surprised. No one liked to hear him talk. People often cut him off or simply walked away from him when they got bored of his talking.

“Mhm. I do. I like your voice.”

He smiled at your compliments before he began to read aloud. Granted it wasn’t light reading. It was a book on Quantum Physics but you didn’t seem to mind. You found his voice to be very calming. You didn’t mind what he was saying and you certainly weren’t going to stop him.

As he lay there with you in his arms while he caressed your arm, he couldn’t help but think that this felt incredibly right. Like this was where he was meant to be and this is where you were meant to be. You were meant to be in each other’s arms. He looked down upon you as you rested your head against his chest. He admired your facial features. You looked so peaceful. He was glad you were able to rest comfortably in his arms after what you’d been through.

As you laid there resting peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but think how incredibly hard he’d fallen for you. It astonished him. He loved no one more than he loved you (with the exception of perhaps his mother). You were everything to him. And now that he knew that you loved him back, he couldn’t help but think how high he could soar, how much better his life could be now with you in it in a much more intimate fashion. Why, he’d be unstoppable loving you with you loving him.