#this Gideon did not work out one day of her life

[wiccaphiliaa]

Reverend daughter of the Ninth House, Necromancer Gideon.

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[luveline]

Bombshell r loosing her mind when Spence walks into work late that one day and he has the “boy band” haircut

“What’s with the face?” 

Morgan raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer you don’t have. 

“What’s wrong with my face?” you ask. 

“Nothing–”

“Clearly.” 

“You look way too happy, considering.” He gestures to the board currently displaying a grisly crime scene photo and the empty seat across from you. “Another case, and a severe lack of your favourite toy.” 

“Spencer isn’t my toy, he’s my sweetheart, and I’m gutted he’s running late but I’m toughing it out.” 

Being on the team is all you’ve ever wanted. With Gideon long gone and enough time elapsed between Strauss’ political push for Emily, you’re here permanently, where you’ve always wanted to be. It’s been the best few months of your life. A lot of that due to Spencer’s unfailing friendship. He’s so kind to you. You’re really getting along. 

“Let’s focus in,” Hotch says. 

You bridle with excitement, poorly contained. You don’t get very far into spitballing when JJ’s lips part in bemusement.

“Well, hello,” she says. 

You turn in your chair away from JJ and Penelope where they’re giving the presentation to the door, where Spencer is smiling genially. He sits down with his bag still on his shoulder, a heavy silence having fallen over the room. 

Spencer has cut his hair. Gone is the long, mostly straight lengths of his hair. Did he get a perm? You’re shell-shocked. “Oh my god,” you mumble to yourself. 

“What, did you join a boyband?” Hotch asks, frowning. 

His lips part in small offence. “No,” he says. 

Emily and Morgan laugh. Spencer tucks his chair in, and you don’t know who wants to say what or how quickly you’re supposed to pretend to get over this, but you don’t care. “Spencer!” you say, “Spencer!” 

“L/N, please don’t start.” 

Hotch is only saying please because he knows he had his own reaction he could’ve kept internal, how can he ask you to smother your own. You lean hard across the table and gaze at Spencer lovingly —startled but inarguably infatuated.

“You’ve never, ever looked this handsome before,” you say, true and not true, “ever. I gotta–” Your hand reaches out at the same moment your legs decide to stand. “Can I touch it?” 

Hotch sighs with disappointment. 

You pass behind your teammates' chairs to look at him. 

“Stop,” Spencer says immediately, his palm to your stomach. “You’re being mean.” 

“I’m being mean? You didn’t even consult me.” 

“It’s my hair.” 

“Spencer, you’re gorgeous no matter what, but I need some warning if you don’t want me to do this.” 

“Sit back down,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes. 

You tuck one lovely curl behind Spencer’s ear carefully. “I love it so much, I can’t believe it. This is the best thing that’s happened to me since I joined the BAU.” 

[hkthatgffan]

Hey! You seem like a huge *Gravity Falls* fan, so I was hoping you could answer some of my biggest questions about morality in the show. Since the release of *The Book of Bill* (which I’ve read), do you think Bill could ever be redeemed or seen sympathetically? Is there a possibility for him to get better and maybe even have a happy ending?

I ask this because I see a lot of fans saying, "He's awful," or "He deserves everything coming to him a thousandfold," and "Don't sympathize with him!" But then I watch the show, and I see characters like Gideon Gleeful and Robbie who were also problematic—they did terrible things but still got happy endings.

I know Gideon went to jail, but he broke out and ultimately had a positive resolution. Robbie, for example, tried to brainwash Wendy into a romantic relationship (which is super messed up!). Even though it didn’t work, and Wendy only dated him because she thought he wrote her that song, Robbie knew what the CD was supposed to do. But instead of facing real consequences, he just went through a breakup and still ended up with a happy ending, with friends and a new girlfriend.

As for Gideon, he tried to kill Dipper, manipulate Mabel, and invade the entire town’s privacy—basically doing some of the same things Bill did. Yet, after going to jail and making a last-minute turn toward good, he still got a happy ending.

So I’m super confused. What should I be feeling? Is there a correct way to view these characters? What do you think?

Bill at his core is the personification of denial. We see in the book that the harbours some regret and hatred for what he's done to the people around him but he refuses to try and take it to heart and use it as a point to grow from. I mean, look at what he did.

He killed his entire dimension and family and yet tries to deny it was anything bad and that in fact he liberated them. He manipulated and almost destroyed Ford and yet denies ruining the friendship they had. He tried to kill Dipper and Mabel and yet acts like it was nothing. Bill is unsympathetic. He's a narcissistic sociopath who doesn't wanna admit it.

The difference with Robbie and Gideon is that they changed and grew past their issues. Robbie tbh was more so being a literal teen drama story while Gideon was made that way through his exposure to Journal 2 and how that corrupted him. Once both found a new lease on life, they were able to grow and become better.

Bill is not that. He cannot accept that he's not fine and that he's the sole survivor of his kind and has pushed everyone he knew out of his life through his own actions. We've all probably dealt with people like Bill Cipher. Be it a person, co-worker, significant other, friend, family member, etc. We've all had that person who acts full of themselves and manipulatively but in reality is suffering. But because of how they act and their refusal to do anything, you start to lose any sympathy or interest in helping or being there and just let them go. Congrats...you just escaped a toxic relationship.

As someone who has dealt with Bill Ciphers in my life like many of us probably have, it's easy to feel sympathy for him. Bill make his case out as such that you wanna feel like he deserves better. But he's a trillion year old being that has been doing the same thing over and over again and refuses to make an effort to move on and let himself accept what he did to his dimension and to people around him like Ford.

Ford on the other hand realized that and cut Bill out of his life. He's doing better now because of that and has his family by his side. Ford is an example of how to move on from such toxic situations and people and find happiness in your life again after that. Bill is the example of what happens if you can't.

Life is short. We all will die one day. We all deserve to lead a life free of people like Bill Cipher in it. The best thing we can do is follow Ford and find the people in life that make us happy and let go of Bill.

So, to answer your question, NO!

I don't think Bill Cipher can be redeemed or seen in a sympathetic way. He tried to. But he's shown even in the Theraprism that he can't. He's doomed to live forever with the shit he's done. And it's his own fault.

Bill can say he's fine but in the end...he's not. And he never will be. There is no redemption for Bill Cipher.

[henry-or-something]

@scary-spaghetti-enjoyer had an idea for a Witchlight Swap AU and I.... really liked it

Gideon

Born and raised on a farm, he ran away at 18 to go to college. He claims to have a Psych degree, but dropped out to join a band as a bass player. He jumped from band to band constantly. On his travels, he found Gricko lost in the woods. The two became friends quickly. Gideon convinced Gricko to come with him to Agwe as a sort of exposure therapy to the outside world. Eventually, they made it to Agwe and decided that robbing people was the best was to make money. They were pick-poketing people when Kremy suddenly appeared. He was about to throw them out when Torbek appeared and offered them a job at a carnival.

GRICKO

Gricko was given to a spiritual order at a young age by his parents. He grew up learning about how to harness the spirits of deceased monsters of animals to assist him in everyday life. As he grew up, his control over the spirits grew, but he lost any sense of 'human' interaction. His elders decided it would be best for him to leave to order for a bit to better understand the world. Before he left, Gricko was given a child owl bear on the brink of death. He was to help the child pass on and use it's spirit as his main source of power. He spent a few years on his own, but eventually met Gideon. Gideon took a liking to Gricko's spirit and named her Hootise.

KREMY

Kremy grew up on the outskirts of Agwe in a fairly poor family. One day, when Kremy was heading back home from work, he found him home destroyed. On the shore of the swamp were swarms of hobgoblins. They captured him and trapped him on their steamboat. He spent years shoveling coal to power the engines. Within the first month, he tried to escape. The hobgoblins stopped him and cut off his tail as punishment. After most of his teens and twenty's had passed, Kremy was able to escape. The boat had stopped Remy Gurus district for a few weeks. During this time, the hobgoblins forgot about Kremy and unintentionally starved him. Nearly dead, Kremy was approached by the Good Baron, who offered him an escape for his servitude. Kremy agreed. His manacle broke off and he used the chain to harness his power. He destroyed the boat and went off into Agwe to make a living. He almost immediately met Torbek, who persuaded him into being a bodyguard. The two hate each other, but work together. He is wary of Gideon when the first meet, but they get close working at the carnival.

TORBEK

Ever since he was young, Torbek was good a lying to people. Mostly because half the stuff they said he did he couldn't remember doing. He used his skill to join Remy Guru's crew and manage a variety of tables at his casinos. One day, Remy approached Torbek saying he agreed to his deal. Torbek didn't know what was happening but went with it. He was gifted his own boat to run. He met Kremy once and the next this he knew, he was his bodyguard. He didn't know how this happened and from them one their relationship was very strained. Upon meeting Gideon and Gricko, the two attempting to pick-pocket his customers, Torbek realized he was is severe amounts of debt. He hastily hired the two to assist him in setting up a Con-carnival to quickly gather funds.

FROST

Frost was hired by Torbek to help manage funds at the carnival. Really, it was Collin who he hired, but Frost was his assistant and the one actually doing any work. He always had a knack for numbers and puzzles. When the carnival went under. Frost wandered for a while before hearing rumors of a Witchlight Carnival. He decided he would find any work he could there. He was waiting for a interview with Mr.Witch when Gideon, Kremy, and Gricko showed up. They recognized him and had a fun guys night. However, they turned him over to the Bugbear guards because he did sneak into the carnival by stealing someone else's ticket. He got hauled off to the Faewild. The environment of the Faewild altered his mind and sparked his power. He got kidnapped by Agdon and was sold to this dwarf. They took him to a underground lab where the tortured and experimented of Frost's mind. When the Witchlight entered his system, his powers increased tenfold, causing him immense pain. He lased out and ran from his captors. He made his way to a Inn. He was still blinded by pain and lashed out at the people there. When he came to, he found Gideon, Kremy, Gricko, and Torbek looking back at him.

[igotanidea]

Line of authority: Aaron Hotchner x fem!agent!reader

requested: yes, as a part of my 1k celebration: Aaron Hotchner and silent treatment.

Warnings: age gap, co-workers relationship (reader is Hotch's inferior), a bit of angst and um, well, silent treatment, fluff at the end.

A/N: I can easily get into Hotch personality, but stil find it a bit hard to write for him romantically, so please, do not go too hard on me 🥺

***

„Go home.”

„No.”

„Please, go home.”

„I’m telling you I am absolutely fine!”

“How long have they been going on with this?”

SSA Aaron Hotchner, one of the BAU most esteemed agent had only one person that could undermine his authority. His partner in both work and life – Agent Y/N Y/L/N.  Not that she was doing this on regular basis, she was a professional after all, but sometimes working together and staying in a relationship as a subordinate was too much. And the scene that was unravelling in front of the whole team was a perfect example of her limits.

Recently, the group of agents have been working on a case about assaulting and raping women. Again.  Much to Aaron displeasure Y/n volunteered herself to be the bait. After all, she looked young and innocent, definitely not like a trained FBI agent. Despite the fact, that whole team remembered what happened last time, when Elle was supposed to help catch a women offender, all of them agreed to the plan. Maybe they trusted Y/N more or maybe they had no other options to catch the guy.  Aaron objected giving his rational and logical arguments, but finally it was Gideon who made the tough call, taking some time to walk the girl through every step of the operation.  Y/N quickly got the attention of the suspected man and due to some casual flirting and playing around found herself on the unsub radar. All the BAU needed was hard proof of his guilt. Sticking to the initial plan, Y/N left the bar, pretending to be a little drunk, and started walking home, watched closely by the team, located near the area in the concealed van. Morgan and Gideon who had the pleasure of sitting in one with Aaron could almost hear his heart escaping his chest and see his clenched jaw. But he was a trained agent, no matter how worried or scared or stressed he was, there was not a chance he would ever show that. Not even when it came to her. So the three men were just spending the time in complete silence. Until the offender started walking after Y/N, captured her and dragged her inside the nearest bush. Of course she fought him bravely and before anyone else reached them, she already had the perpetrator on the ground, gat pointed at his chest, no serious damage, apart from some scratches and cuts done to her.  Girl’s psyche, however, was a whole different story. At least according to Aaron, on who’s orders she was supposed to hand over her badge and gun and stay on rest until being cleared out for the field.  And boy, she did not like it. At all.

“Y/N.” Aaron looked straight into her eyes with that characteristic, arcane face expression. His eyes were practically begging for her to listen, but lips were pursed.

“I am…..”

“Fine, you said it. But you’re still an agent and you need to follow the procedure. And that means you have to go through evaluation.”

“I don’t have to do shit! Don’t try to fool me!” she exclaimed “do you have any idea how many women, kids and people are still out there, being abused every day?! You need me on the field!”

“I’m sorry agent Y/L/N. I need you to hand over you badge and gun. Now.” he said calmly, but everyone who knew him could tell that there was a storm inside him.

“And what if I refuse?” she crossed arms over her chest, every action daring Aaron’s self-control.

 “Listen to me, than.” Gideon could tell that sooner or later one of them would snap so instead of watching he decided to take action. ”Y/N.” he smiled lightly “you know it’s not a way to get rid of you, don’t you? It’s like you said, we need you. But we need you in your best form, quick-thinking, rational, collected. Are you now?”

“I…..” she took a deep breath and after that threw her hands in the air “Fine. Fine!” her badge landed on the table “Have it your way. Maybe I’m off the field, but you can’t forbid me helping Penelope in her technician work.” The gun followed after the document “I can do work as a researcher, nearly as well.”.

“I’m sure Garcia will be more than happy to have you with her.” Gideon smiled at her “Thank you, Y/N. It’s just two weeks, the minimum amount we have.”

“Whatever.” She hissed, turning around and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind.

“You know that is not the procedure.” Jason turned towards his fellow profiler “she was not captured, shot or assaulted. She doesn’t need the assessment.”

“Let’s just get back to work, shall we?” Aaron retorted. Of course he knew that was a bit excessive, but what else was he supposed to do. He was trying to do what was best for her.

***

The following two weeks were torture for everyone in the team. Sure, Y/N was not supposed to go with them to the crime locations, but since Penelope was more than happy to have her best friend in her sanctuary she was always on the line. And in the main office in Quantico. With the amount of time Aaron were spending there, there was not a chance they would not run into each other. Or have to exchange words. And the fact, that Y/N moved back from his house, back to her own apartment and was giving him silent treatment were not helping. At all.

“Don’t you ever go the bathroom? Or to get coffee? Or, I don’t know, to stretch your legs?” Y/N was spinning around in the swivel seat, located in front of all the screen in Penelope’s offices.

“Of course not. How could I? I got loose threads to find and pull. I’m a genius, remember? I don’t fall into something so trivial and mundane as physiology!”

“Sure, Garcia, sure. I’ll definitely ask Reid about his opinion on the matter. Besides, we both know you only wait for you secret lover’s call.”

“Right. Speaking of the devil….” Penelope grinned, hearing the phone ring “you’ve reached the Oracle, ask and you shall be answered.”

“Garcia.”

“Oh, um, hi, Sir.” She stuttered a bit, realising it was in fact Hotch who was the called, and not Morgan.

“Is Y/L/N with you?”

“Um….” Penelope mumbled, eyes landing on the girl, who was frantically shaking her head and mouthing one simple word: NO!. Now poor Garcia was torn between the loyalty to her friend and line of authority. “Can’t I help you?’

“I need you to check some names for me. But Y/L/N had to go and do some paper research. And I know you are there Y/L/N. Talk to me. If nothing else convinces you, we got lives at stake.” The girl was still silent “Y/N….”

“It’s just about the case. What do I look for?” she could almost hear Hotch relief on the other side of the line when he started explaining the details.

And only a few hours later, they completed the investigation and were back in Quantico. And once the reports and paperwork were done, the only two people left in the office were Y/N and Aaron, sitting on opposite sides. Neither of them really wanted to go their homes, but they weren’t ready to talk. Not yet. This was the first time in their relationship that they found themselves in such a situation. Of course they need that working together was far from perfect, especially in this field, and they had to do some extensive explanation with the HR, but still…. At least they were spending time together. But now? This could have undermined and destroyed everything they had or made them stronger. The odds were even on both of those options. The question was, who would be the first to relent first in this game of hurt, pain, guilt and nerves.  

At that moment, she was the one to stand up first and walk towards the door.

“Can we talk about it?” he called after her, but she only did so much as to stop for  a moment and inhaling.

“No.”

***

The following weeks were… well, better in some way. She was keeping her professionalism, acknowledging Aaron’s presence whenever he was around, but the tension could still be felt. Especially when she was dropping occasional cold “morning, sir”, almost like she was trying to underline that he treated her simply as a subordinate or maybe even worse. If it were Emily or Ashley or damn, any of the man, Aaron would never go as far as putting them off. And that was what hurt her the most. That somehow he believed her to be … weaker, worse, not good enough to be an agent. She did not need him to act like her shield. She was trained, skilled and extremely good at her job. But instead of letting him know how she felt she choose to act like a kid. Finally, it was Morgan who snapped. And it was only when she got her badge back and was again a field agent, not a women in the chair (not that there was something wrong with that, but it was boring for Y/N, used to different kind of work).

“Hey, look who’s back on her feet!” he cheered when she entered the office, fully equipped “so, you’re graduated from the kindergarten or not yet?”

“What are you talking about?” she frowned and scoffed

“You know exactly what this is about. Y/N, I love you, all right, but you can be a pain in the ass and you showed that quite well lately.”

“Learning from the best” she smirked at him

“who?” Morgan titled his head ,not falling for the trap. Of course, it was too obvious for him. “Seriously, Y/N, it’s good to know you are on again, there is really no one to gets my jokes like you and Penelope.”

“Oh, so you admit you need a girl in the base and on the plane.”

“Duh.” He grinned  “Never said I didn’t. But…. If you want to get back in my good graces….”

“Who said I do?”

“…. Go talk to Hotch. Clear things up, cause I believe I speak for the whole team saying you two made our lives a living nightmare. More than usual.”

“He’s right, you know!”  Spender seconded Morgan from his chair, not raising gaze from the documents he was working on.

“All right! All right! I’m going. But why the hell does it always have to be me!?”

***

“Hotch?”

“Y/N” unlike Spencer, he did raise his eyes, focusing them on her. Not another word, just her name, like he was awaiting her reaction.

“You probably heard, I was … well, restored.”

“I did.”

“Well, um… if that’s all you have to say to me, than….”

“Wait.” He stood up and approached her, coming as close as he could considering the fact that they were still at work. Taking her hands in his, entwining their fingers, his eyes still focused on her to the point when it became uncomfortable and she had to look down. “Eyes up, agent.” She hated the fact that his deep voice was making her listen instantly “I’m sorry.” He said and everything in the tone and posture and his face was screaming sincerity.

“Why? You had every right to do so. It may have not been the standard procedure but it was still in your competence.”

“I overreacted.”

“That’s not happening often, does it?”

“Only when it comes to you.” he admitted and caressed her palm gently

“You don’t need to protect me, Aaron.” She took a step forward. Their bodies were almost touching and it was hard to not just dive into his embrace. But still, they were at work and his office had glass windows, for god’s sake!

“How can I not? I know you are trained. I know you know how to handle yourself, but I hate seeing you at this job. I let the work consume me before and now the same happens to you. And to think all I ever wanted was to keep the one I love out of this mess. “

“That’s what happened when your job is a mission….. wait, what did you just say?” her eyes grew wide and she took a step back to scan his face. “Are you saying that…..?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious at this point.”

“Yeah, but…..” her face became softer than before “I love you too, Hotch.”

“Does this mean you are coming back home?” he smirked pecking her lips, quickly, almost impalpably and she whined internally, wanting more.

“I’ll think about it. It’s not one of those “kiss and be forgiven” situation. I love that you love me but I also need you to let me do my thing. Just like with any member of the team. No special treatment. And that means both, not being too strict and not being too lenient. Although I’m sure you will have no problem with the latter.”

“Not at work.” he lifted corners of his mouth lightly, which was the equivalent of the brightest smile for him.

“I like how that sounds.” Now it was her turn to lean forward and peck his lips. “But before we take this conversation home, let’s not pretend the case files on your desk. Guess my absence took a heavy toll on you, agent Hotchner.”

@somest1

[strawbeerossi]

I seen that you write angst and I have an idea to share with you because of some personal things that I went through with my own family.

Do you think you can write something about fem!reader and Spencer finding out that one of their children has leukemia? Maybe with death involved to show how intricate this situation can affect families? I know it’s a very loaded topic so I completely understand if you don’t wanna do it but I think you’d master the topic beautifully based off of your angst writing. ❤️

I hope you’re doing alright today, Tay

First off, I’m so sorry for your loss, lovebug. I hope I do this justice and thank you for trusting me with this topic. My DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 🩵

And I'm good today, thank you, honey.

Vilomah: Bereaved Parents

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After their son succumbs to his illness, the Reid parents have to navigate the grieving process together along with the team who are there to help.

Content Warning: Child death, leukemia, details about a hospital stay, extreme grief after loss, a child’s funeral, parental grief, mentions struggles with eating, spousal argument, lots of tears, descriptions of feeling empty and depression, the team is there for the Reids, spousal comfort, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 3.3K

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I cried like a baby writing this. I hope I captured what you were looking for anon.

“Memories saturate my heart and the story of you spills from my eyes.” – Grace Andren

There were many horrors that Spencer faced in his line of work; murderers, rapists, cannibals, the lot of it. He was also faced with grief more often than not, losing Maeve and Gideon being the two most notable times where he was forced to face the fact that everybody dies at some point, no matter who they are. 

That wasn’t enough to prepare him for the cruelest thing life had to throw at him. Benjamin was diagnosed with leukemia when he was just two months shy of four-years-old, more specifically it was Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. 

The first few months were seemingly okay. He was responding well with the treatment, his little body growing stronger with each passing day. There were plenty of ice cream days to celebrate whenever Ben could function as good as he could before the cancer. Not to mention all the gifts his aunt Penelope would send.

There was hope, so much hope that Y/N and Spencer didn’t let the thoughts of losing their son loom over their head.

That was until he got sick again, this time much worse. It happened suddenly, Ben went from eating some fruit snacks and watching a movie to losing consciousness and growing pale. Spencer never thought he could get home faster than what he did when he got the phone call. Emily sent him home immediately after hearing the news, telling him to get home to his family and that she would check in.

The next few weeks were spent in the hospital, the bright lights being harsh on the eyes of the sore eyes of the Reid parents. Y/N didn’t sleep but for a few hours a night, any small movement or sound from Ben or his machines waking her up. Spencer had grown to not sleep for that long, surviving off maybe an hour a night and ten cups of coffee to push forward the following morning.

However, the suffocating realization of the inevitable was starting to soak in. Spencer wanted nothing more than for his son to make a recovery but as a man of science, that hope dissipated as he noticed the signs. People got better before death, so whenever Ben was showing all the signs of surging, it was enough to kill Spencer.

Even after they had a conversation with their doctor, the woman telling them that surging typically happens one to two days before death, it was like Y/N wouldn’t take that. She would say that he was fine, that he was healing. 

It was denial. 

The day they lost him was the hardest of them all. The air was suffocating that morning, there being a bitter winter chill. Spencer had gone to work, as usual. There was a case, one about a man who was killing women who resembled his birth mother after she rejected him from her life. He was distracted, like any father on the verge of losing his child would be.

He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work but he was losing his mind, being overwhelmed with the knowledge of the inevitable. He liked to think that if he and Y/N didn’t discuss it, it wasn’t real. As a man of science, he knew the risks of believing something like that.

Still, he gave himself false hope. 

However, his heart stopped beating for a split second as he could feel his phone buzzing, the world freezing around him as he couldn’t hear the others around him. He knew what this call was. It took JJ shaking Spencer’s shoulders to snap him out of his thoughts. “I have to go.” 

Making it to the hospital, he dreaded going inside. However, he was running through the hospital doors not bothering to check in at the front desk as he was going as fast as his legs could carry him to reach his son’s hospital room. 

Judging by the heart wrenching screams of agony from his wife on the other side of the door, Spencer knew what to expect as his shaking hand was opening the hospital door. The sight of his wife cradling their son was enough to make him drop to his knees. 

The nurses and doctors looked at the small family, feeling the sting of heartache as they’d gotten to know the Reid’s over the past year.

Spencer’s legs were like jelly, the tears cascading his face being enough where he was sure he could fill up the hospital room in tears, enough to drown in. They were able to stay as long as they wanted to, even if it was hours later. 

“Do you have his blanket?” Y/N asked, voice raw from the screaming and uncontrollable sobbing from before. “I don’t want him to get cold..” She whispered, looking at their son who looked like he was sleeping against his father’s chest. “In the bag.” The words were shaky, the father keeping his son close while letting his forehead rest against Benjamin’s smaller one.

After they were laying the little boy down again, Y/N was slowly putting the blanket over the child before she was leaning down to kiss his forehead, which had begun to grow cold from the hours his parents took to say goodbye. The parents clung to one another as they were being forced to walk out of the hospital. 

After that, their life lost all its color. Waking up to an alarm rather than to a happy little boy jumping on their bed just wasn’t the same. There was no laughter in the house, no warmth. The atmosphere was just as cold as the weather outside. No matter how many days that Penelope came over with baskets filled with small goodies to try and lift their spirits, or how Luke would come by to check in and bring food over that the two parents just couldn’t stomach.

The day of the funeral was when every ounce of denial was fizzing away. Next came anger. Y/N was moving a bit slow, honestly not wanting to rush and be greeted with the sad looks of their friends and family. Spencer was ready twenty minutes prior, wanting to rush the grieving process and just accept everything immediately, even if it was impossible.

“Please hurry up.” His voice was laced with irritation, making wife look up from her shoes as she was playing with the strap. “I am hurrying..” She spoke softly, a frown on her face as she slowly got the shoes on. “You don’t have to have an attitude, by the way.” 

That was the start of something ugly.

“Well, you don’t have to take thirty years and expect Benji to walk through the door.” The words were deep cutting, very uncharacteristic of the loving man she married.The words had his wife stunned in place, her mouth falling open. “You don’t have to be an asshole and keep reminding me of where we are going.” She spat, moving to brush her hair back before standing.

“You can’t keep acting like things are going to change. He’s gone, Y/N. No matter how bad we want him back, we will never get him back.” They were growing angry at one another at the wrong time. Before the yelling could start, there was a soft knock on the door. With a soft sigh, Spencer was turning around and heading to the sound of the soft knocking. 

The sight behind the door was enough to make his heart clench. There was Derek, the man offering a sad smile. “Hey, kid. I came to pick you two up. How’s the missus doing?” He asked, chuckling as Spencer was rushing to tightly hug his best friend, his hand slowly patting the younger male’s back. “Hi Derek.” Y/N offered a weak smile once she was closing the bedroom door. 

“Hey mama.” His voice was soft and careful, heading over to wrap his arms around the woman before kissing her cheek. “I was thinking that after everything, we could all go out to lunch.” He wasn’t stupid, he could tell that the two parents were neglecting themselves, he’d talked to the team. 

This was a sensitive time, so he understood. However, he wasn’t going to sit idly by either. He’d be damned if he let them both slowly waste away. Benjamin sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted that. 

“I don’t know, Derek. I don’t think I can deal with everyone looking at us with pity. You know how many people have told me that they hugged their babies tighter because of this situation? It hurts. Not nearly as helpful as people think..” The woman spoke while slowly rubbing her face.

“It’ll just be us. The team, our family.” He attempted to coax both parents, the two not being able to get out of it in the end.

The three eventually made it to the graveyard where they were confronting the one thing that they didn’t want to face. The Reids were approaching the plot that they’d purchased for the family, Y/N having to collect herself at the sight of the coffin waiting by the open plot. 

“There you two are,” Penelope looked like she’d been sobbing already, her arms wrapping tightly around both parents. That was where the floodgates broke, both of them tightly clutching onto the blonde enough to suffocate her. 

The ceremony was beautiful, despite the flood of tears and pain deep in the chests of all that were closest to the child who they were laying to rest. It was something honorable, Benji even having his uncle Aaron there to say a final goodbye. Even surrounded by love, there was still an emptiness, a void that would never be filled. 

What came next made things worse, the parents having to say goodbye as soon as the casket was being lowered in its plot, Y/N and Spencer wrapped up in one another’s embrace while their hands were clutching each other’s clothing. The wife was letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder, their tears soaking one another’s clothes and hair.

It was just them now, with the ghost of their sweet angel who would keep a watchful eye over his parents, whether they knew it or not.

Dave was approaching the parents, his hand resting on Spencer’s shoulder as he cleared his throat to catch their attention. “I want you both to know that I will be here for you both, always.” David Rossi, the father of the team, it seemed. As well as being uncle Dave to all the kids, Benji included. 

“I heard that you two agreed to come to lunch.” He spoke softly, eliciting a small smile from Y/N. “We are.” She said softly, truly unable to say no to him. “We are having it in my backyard. Why don’t you two ride with me?” He suggested, making both Spencer and his wife look at one another.

They weren't getting out of this, so they complied and followed behind David.

The only problem was that so many amazing things happened in that backyard, Benji’s baby shower being one of them.

“Baby Reid is getting so big,” JJ gushed, her hand on Y/N’s swollen bump as the woman laughed in content. “Isn’t he? He’s also been kicking the hell out of my ribs, I feel like he's punishing me.” Y/N joked.

Finding out that she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened. Of course, there were jokes of Spencer and Y/N not even waiting a year after they got married before she was already pregnant.

It was funny, really. Spencer was highly convinced that the baby was conceived on the first week of their honeymoon, the two being a little too into that talk while they were in the middle of sex, the filthy words of her being swollen with his baby becoming literal.

Diana was thrilled the moment that she saw her son and his wife on one of their visits, the woman being more thrilled at the prospect of her little Spencer having a child of his own. She would say that she knew before they even told her. 

“Mothers always know, Spencer. We are animals, we can feel things.” Were her exact words, something that she said Y/N would understand one day.

“Bella!” David smiled, the term of endearment being a newer one that he used for Y/N after the pregnancy, something about how she looked gorgeous because she was glowing. It was sweet, she had to admit it. “Hi, David.” Y/N grinned, her arms wrapping around the older man in a hug before she was pulling away. “You and Penelope did a beautiful job, by the way!”

Almost as if she were summoned, the bubbly blonde was hurrying over to flash a smile. “There you are my gorgeous girl! How are you feeling?” She asked, her hand cautiously rubbing her baby bump once Y/N gave her the okay.

“I’m doing good, actually. This boy is gonna be the death of me though. I was craving dirt the other day.” Her nose crinkled. “Weirdness. However, this baby is a Reid so that’ll explain it better than anything else.” Penelope joked. 

“It’s actually more normal than you might think. One theory links pica cravings to iron deficiencies. Another theory suggests these cravings develop as an adaptive response to the way the immune system changes during pregnancy.” Spencer smiled while letting his arms wrap around his wife from behind, his lips pressing a kiss to her cheek before his hands were coming underneath the heavy bump, lifting it up gently to take some of the pain from his wife’s back.

It was enough to make the woman sigh of relief as her head was tilted back against his shoulder. “You are such a lifesaver.” She breathed while briefly closing her eyes. 

Spencer was attentive and loving, paying attention to her much more after the pregnancy was discovered.

This was a dream.

This was a nightmare, the memories rushing back to Y/N as she was walking into the backyard where all those sweet memories lived. It was emotionally draining, so much so that her hand was reaching aimlessly for Spencer’s.

As soon as her husband realized what she was doing, he was slowly approaching his wife and letting his hand tightly grip onto hers. He didn’t realize how bad they needed this, to have a reminder that they still had each other. He figured it was implied but this made a bit of weight lift off his chest. 

“I know it may be a bit hard to laugh right now,” Penelope began as she was offering a smile. “But I know how much Benji used to love having dinner with all of us, no matter where we went.” She began, making a soft, sad smile spreading across Y/N’s face. 

“So, I figured that I would honor one of my favorite godson’s in the best way possible. Instead of boring adult food, I made extra sure to get the best of the best.” Being a four-year-old, Benjamin was just as picky as the next kid. 

“Don’t tell me,” Spencer began, looking over as she was happily showing off the meal she had catered. It consisted of all the essential food groups of a young child; chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and french fries. 

Hank, Michael, Henry, the Simmons children and Jack were all over the idea of that. The adults, though, couldn’t help the soft laughter. “Benji would definitely approve.” Y/N offered a soft smile, shaking her head fondly. “Even up until the end, he had to have his nuggets.” Spencer added, a few tears springing up in his eyes at the pleasant memory, even in the darkest time of their lives.

“I don’t want that..” Benjamin wrinkled his nose as he was pushing away the soup that the hospital was giving him, making Spencer look up from his book. “It’s good for you, Benji. Try it.” He urged on, a smile as he put the book down after finding his bookmark. 

“Daddy, no. It’s yucky. It smells yucky.” He continued on, the four year old running the spoon through the bowl.

Like his mother, he was dramatic about it, gagging at the mere thought of eating what he was given. “I want chicken nuggets.” He whined out, now looking at his mother, who was sighing in content. 

“Take a few bites and try it! If you try it and you don’t like it, I’ll go get you some nuggets. Sounds fair?” She asked, keeping the stern tone yet offering a sweet smile, knowing damn well that he’d get his way in the end anyway. Even if he liked the soup.

“I’ll try it but I might be sick, mama.” He warned, looking at the broth with vegetables before he was taking a good amount on the spoon.

He eyed it over before pushing it into his mouth. Both parents couldn’t help the laughter falling from their lips as Benji pulled a face, looking offended he was even made to try it.

“Blegh! Nasty!” The animated child was pushing the tray table away as Y/N was already getting up to grab her keys. “I’m going! I’m going! Make sure that you watch your daddy, you know he likes getting into too much trouble.” 

As everyone had a plate in front of them, everyone was looking at the Reids, expectant of them to get up. Derek was the one who was already making two plates before placing them down in front of the two. “There you are pretty boy and pretty girl, no need to get up.” He knew what he was doing.

Even with the lack of appetite, Y/N was slowly picking up her fork before collecting a bit of the mac and cheese on her fork, slowly moving to push the fork in her mouth. She didn’t realize just how hungry she was before that bite. Of course, barely eating for two weeks would do that to you.

Spencer seemed to be on the same page, the two unknowingly eating like they hadn’t eaten in years. The group said nothing about it, although they shared collective glances and their eyes were glistening over with relief. 

They were eating enough to actually keep themselves alive, to keep themselves from falling ill and being stuck in the hospital being fed through IVs. After all they went through, they didn’t need to be in another hospital for a long time.

The rest of the day was spent with their family rather than them being locked up at home, real smiles gracing their features for the first time in forever. Being together in a quiet home was taking a huge hit at their mental health. 

This was what they needed. Their full support system. 

It was later on in the evening before Y/N and Spencer had gotten home, the two ordering takeout for dinner whenever they arrived at home. The wife was looking over the picture of their family that she had hanging up in the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He looked so peaceful today, didn’t he?” She asked, her voice soft.

“No more pain, no more weakness.. Just peaceful.” Spencer added on, looking up from his hands. “Y/N.. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was horrible to say,” He said as his wife was offering a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s hard right now but.. Spencer, I love you. With every fiber of my being. Please remember that.”

It was what he needed to hear, his head nodding. “I know. I love you so much, baby. Thank you. I’m here for you, even if you just need to cry and be taken care of.” The taller man was standing up before heading over to tightly hug his wife. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong.” He spoke softly while kissing the top of her head. 

All they needed to power through this together was each other, they would make it through this for Benji over all else. It was what he would've wanted , their love to persevere. 

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part nine

We'll be back to Wed/Fri next week I promise!! Btw I listened to "Decode" a lot while writing more of Hotch spiraling so......

Warnings: reader dealing w the aftermath of how Hotch treated her in the last chapter, more lies

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new chapter goes up!

Nine: How did we get here? -- "Decode" by Paramore

After you left, Hotch continued talking to himself for a few seconds before “ending” the phone call. He felt stupid faking a call, but he needed you to leave and not ask questions. He knew you had questions, and that was worrisome.

He hadn’t meant for all of that to happen. But he felt better now, reinvigorated, so that was worth it, he supposed. He needed the boost of energy. He had unsubs to find. You would understand.

The unsub who ran would be hard to find, Hotch knew that. He was good at hiding, it was what took them so long to track him down in the first place, and they wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the kid.

But there were others Hotch could take care of in the meantime. One in particular was just a few hours south. He could use a road trip.

+++

You didn’t tell anyone about your night with Aaron. You couldn’t. You were barely able to make sense of it in your own mind, let alone speak it out loud to someone else.

The way he handled you. It was different from before. His hands had changed.

You took the day off from work, telling Rossi you just needed to sleep. The last case exhausted you; that was all. He tried to press, but eventually let you go.

But you didn’t sleep. You slept after having sex with Aaron because you were past the point of exhaustion. You had no choice but to sleep, but now you weren’t tired enough. Your mind was still awake and running wild with questions.

You replayed the night over in your brain until it felt like it didn’t happen at all.

You laid on your couch, stared at the ceiling, and dozed. Remade the night in your head until it was a fantasy of what could’ve been if he had only let you in and let you love him in the first place.

Your phone rang and you wished it was Aaron, but knew it wasn’t. It was Penelope.

You rolled over, and let your voicemail answer.

+++

Hotch made good time driving south to North Carolina. Between energy drinks and chewing Excedrin, he barely needed to sleep at all. The four-hour drive breezed past, and soon he was sitting outside the unsub’s neighborhood, waiting.

He thought too much about you. Turning the radio as loud as it went did nothing to fight off the images of you that flashed before his eyes.

The previous version of him, before Foyet, would have called you instead of repeatedly searching the radio for something interesting. He always ended back up on the news, wanting to hear what was going on locally. Sometimes he checked national news, and sometimes he checked specific forums that he knew to watch, just in case he appeared there.

His stomach growled, and he cussed at it. He knew he should’ve eaten something before parking, but he couldn’t get this unsub off his mind. He’d eat after he handled this unsub. That was a deal he made for himself. He’d be hungry after this, and he needed to drive back to Quantico tonight, too. He couldn’t stay.

It took a few hours until Hotch saw the unsub’s car returning to the neighborhood. Hotch waited a few minutes before jumping out of his car and following.

With his gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans on his back, he knew what he had to do. He didn’t have as much time as he wanted with this unsub, but that was fine. He walked right up to his house, bypassing the open garage to ring the doorbell out front. The unsub answered with a confused greeting.

The ruse worked all the same. The unsub let Hotch into his house willingly, asking “Gideon” how he had been. How nice it was of him to check in. How the unsub had his life turned around.

Hotch waited until the unsub bent to grab drinks from the fridge. He shot him twice in the back of the head and neck, and left him there. The unsub lived alone, but someone would find out eventually. It wasn’t Hotch’s business.

He closed the garage and shut the lights off before he left. No one was home, after all.

+++

You went back to work after one day off. You needed to get off the couch and out of your apartment before you drove yourself insane with overthinking.

What the hell were you thinking? Going to Hotch’s place and going inside like that. Letting him do those things to you. No one could ever know about that. You knew that much. It had to remain a secret. You weren’t supposed to have any contact with him. You knew that, and you broke that rule. Foolishly. You knew better than that.

Penelope was the first to ask how you were doing. You swore she had special senses or something because she was waiting for you when you got off the elevator.

“Hey,” she called out, walking beside you, her heels clicking on the floor. “Rossi said you stayed home yesterday out of the blue. I tried calling you but it went to voicemail.”

“I know, I’m sorry Pen,” you tried to smile. “I was just really tired so I didn’t look at my phone or anything.”

“Okay,” she frowned. “Can I do anything? Tea? Do you want to get lunch together?”

“Sure,” you conceded, smiling genuinely then. “I’d love that. Let’s do lunch.”

“Awesome,” she grinned, her pink lipgloss sparkling with her smile. “I’m off to the cave. Come see me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded. “I will, thanks Pen.”

Her concern worried you more than anything. You didn’t think you were that obvious with how bad you were doing. You thought you were hiding it well, but then again, there was never any hiding when working with profilers. Even Pen, who didn’t profile every day, still knew her friends extremely well and knew when something was wrong.

Everyone else knew, too. The second you walked through the glass doors, Emily was up and giving you a hug, asking if you felt any better. JJ followed and rubbed your back, asking if you wanted any coffee. Derek came over and gave a hug as well, and his stern look of worry. Reid waved from his desk and said it was glad to see you back.

“I was gone for one day,” you laughed, putting your purse down on your desk and plopping yourself down in your chair.

“It was kinda out of nowhere though,” Reid piped up. “Were you sick?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “I was just exhausted, I think. I slept the whole day.”

“Were you avoiding something?”

“Reid,” Morgan warned. “Relax.”

Spencer grimaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you shook your head. “Maybe I was, who knows? I’ll bring it up to my therapist,” you grinned, but none of them laughed. You cleared your throat. They stared back at you. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Nothing,” Emily said, shrugging, letting out a weak chuckle. “We all need therapists after the few months we’ve had.”

“You guys don’t have therapists?” Reid asked.

That got everyone to laugh.

“Oh, uh, by the way,” Morgan nudged your shoulder. “Rossi wanted to see you at some point today.”

“Okay…” He probably just wanted to check on you, but still, it unnerved you. “I’ll go get that over with now.”

You hauled yourself up and skipped up the stairs, bypassing Hotch’s office. You tried not to look at the door too long, but it startled you, seeing it empty. You kept walking, knocking on Rossi’s door and listening for him to invite you inside.

He opened the door for you, looking relieved to see that it was you. “Hey, come on in.”

You were welcomed inside and sat down on Rossi’s couch, and he took the seat next to you. You thought this meant that the conversation was a friendly check-in, but it verged away from friendly very quickly.

“Did you visit Aaron?”

You tried to keep your shock under control. “I did.”

“How was he?” Rossi asked.

“Good,” you lied. “I gave him some flowers. They seemed to cheer him up.”

“That’s good,” Rossi smiled softly. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you lied again, this time shrugging. “Moving on from it. Thanks for letting me have yesterday off. Resting really helped.”

Rossi waved his hand. “No need to thank me, but I’m glad it helped.” He paused, exhaling. “Strauss is worried about Aaron.”

“We all are,” you shrugged. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Yes, he has,” Rossi agreed. “But she’s…more concerned than we are, I’ll say. I was wondering if you wanted to shed some light on how he’s doing.”

“I mean, he…” You trailed off, fiddling with your hands. Should you say something? You didn’t care about betraying him. You did that when you first contacted Strauss. Betraying him wasn’t the issue.

It was admitting to yourself that something was wrong with him. Deeply. Enough to cause serious, genuine worry. Enough to intervene.

But what proof of that did you have? That he fucked you and kicked you out? You were not going to disclose that information, especially not to Rossi.

“He’s as good as you can expect him to be while grieving,” you finally said. “I think he’s fine.”

Rossi clearly did not believe you, but he let it go, and let you go back to your desk, which was completely fine with you.

You were saddled with paperwork that you didn’t do yesterday, and more because apparently new Use of Force reports are due. When are they not due?

Lunchtime rolled around slowly, and you sprung up from your desk like you were on a trampoline when Penelope came waltzing through the doors.

She laughed when she saw you were already standing. “Normally I have to pry you from your desk.”

“I’m starving,” you said. It was a half-lie. “Where are we eating?”

“Wherever you want,” she linked your arm in hers. “Anyone else want to join? JJ?”

JJ walked past briskly, shaking her head. “Can’t, sorry, sorting through some files.” She bounded the steps to the second level, pausing to lean over the railing. “I’ve misplaced a couple-- It’s not a big deal, they’re probably just buried under everything, but still. Thanks though.” She breezed into Rossi’s office and shut the door.

Pen blinked. “Okay.” She gave you a weird look and you returned it. “Any other takers?”

Reid was mid-bite of his usual PB&J, and Emily and Morgan were on the phone, shaking their heads.

You and Pen left the BAU alone, preparing for an ultimate girls lunch. Complete with food and gossip. Except, you weren’t in the mood for gossip because all Pen wanted to know about was Hotch. Before you even ordered food, Pen started with the questions.

“Okay, obviously something happened, because you never go off the grid like that.” She leaned forward on the table. “What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing happened,” you insisted. Because technically, it was the day before. Not that that even remotely mattered. “I was just tired.”

“Did you go see Hotch?”

Your eyes widened. “Penelope.”

“I knew it!” she cheered quietly. “I knew it! You two were too close when he was here, I knew you’d keep in touch.”

“We haven’t exactly kept in touch,” you replied. “He refuses to speak to me.” Technically the truth. He did refuse to speak to you. He might have fucked you, but there was no talking involved. Barely any.

“What?”

“I went to his apartment with some flowers to apologize and wish him well but he… He refused to speak to me,” you shrugged. “I mean, he took the flowers, but we barely spoke, and I left.” You kept your eyes down on your drink, swirling your straw, hoping you came across as ashamed and not a liar.

“Oh, babe…” Penelope rested her hand on yours. “I am so sorry. You really liked him.”

“I did,” you exhaled through a small laugh, then shook your head. “But it’s fine. Other fish in the sea, and all that. Not to mention,” you lowered your voice, “he’s my boss, Pen. What was I thinking?”

“Uh, you were thinking how hot it is,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper, but she was grinning. “It’s fine to have fantasies! Don’t beat yourself up over it.” She squeezed your hand.

“Thanks, Pen,” you smiled, squeezing her hand back. “Now. What are we thinking for food? I really am starving.”

+++

Hotch was just about to head out to find another unsub when his phone began ringing. He sighed heavily and spun around, hoping it wasn’t you, because the last thing he wanted to do was deal with you any more. It turned out to be Rossi.

“Hey Dave,” Aaron made sure to smile as he said it, hoping that translated in his tone. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Rossi sighed. “The usual. What are you up to?”

Aaron set his duffle bag down gently. Rossi never called for no reason. “Was just about to head on a short run,” Aaron said.

“Running a lot lately, huh?”

“Yeah,” Aaron chuckled, suddenly worried. Was Rossi onto him? How was he supposed to know? He felt ridiculous, being a profiler and unable to tell what Rossi was feeling. “It’s been good for uh…coping, you know. I don’t know,” he laughed. “I probably sound stupid.”

“Not at all,” Dave replied. “I won’t keep you. I just had one quick question.”

There it is. “Sure, what is it?”

“JJ is missing a few files, and I was just wondering if you might have them. The Holman case, the Goodman case, and a few others.”

“Holman?” Hotch asked. “Wasn’t he killed a few days ago?” Only a few days ago…what happened to the time?

“Yeah,” Dave sighed. “Anyway, take a look through your office after your run and give me a call, deal?”

“Deal,” Hotch said, smiling again. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Dave replied. “Don’t give yourself a stroke.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hotch laughed. “Bye.”

Hotch sighed, setting his phone on the counter. This next unsub had to wait until the next day. Hotch had files to burn.

[mochidom]

The Dragneel (Fairies Heirs)

Masterpost here!

nb: presenting my nalu babies... kinda nervous idk

Lucy asked Natsu out first (Happy never fails to remind her of that fact) a few months after the gang came back from the 100 years quest;

Do I need to say that Natsu was giggling for the whole day after?

Because Lucy initiated the first date, Natsu made sure he was the one who proposed (he asked Gadjeel and regretted and Gray who had that point were already fiancés. I’ll let you guys imagine the ideas that came out of the brainstorm between the three);

Finally after a discussion (he got mostly yelled at) with Jellal and Luxus, he decided to bring her to Hargeon where they first met and asked for her hand there;

Very important detail: Natsu asked for Aquarius' blessing (because in my dictature, Lucy got the key back) before proposing to Lucy;

Career wise: Natsu became one of the most sought mage in the kingdom and even overseas while Lucy became a very successful author;

Lucy stopped going on missions when she got pregnant with their first child Ignia a few months after the wedding, and from that point only concentrated on her writing career;

She published three other novels from that point and all of them did pretty well. The guild, of course, organised a book signing event for each of the releases.

Atlas Salamander Dragneel was born in the middle of the guild on a beautiful Thursday afternoon.

After months of following Polyussica's diet for a painless delivery, Lucy realized way too late that the diet worked way too well and she did not realize her water broke nor felt that the baby was coming;

Some would say such an eventful birth is an omen as to how the baby will be and they would be right because Atlas is nothing if not eventful;

For the first ten years of his life, if there was a catastrophic attack on Magnolia's flora, you could bet your house that he had something to do with it. The boy destroyed a mountain when he was barely 6!;

That is when Luxus start to get worried for his hairline;

Natsu is over the moon to have found a partner to accompany him on his bizarre adventures;

Natsu and Atlas are always sparring each other and they're keeping count. It is currently 124-2 for Natsu;

Lucy can't believe that someone who looks so much like her can be so different from her. Atlas cannot sit AT ALL and for the longest time, the parents had to team up with the city's authorities to give him a simplet haircut;

He's a very volatile person and he hates staying in the same place for a long time;

Him and Gideon are actually dangers to society;

Atlas is also very impulsive and also kinda have a saviour complex; He is always the one to come to help to another being, which is not bad but sometime he does it without thinking much about himself or the people who care about him;

He is very charismatic which is such a bad combo with his eclectic personality. He gets away with a lot such as the fact that he is a player;

Because they obviously are not strong enough to pin him down (no one is, they would know), Lucy and Natsu agree to let him leave on a two years long mission with Gildarts and Gideon when he turns 15;

The princess of the family! You can get a real-life target on your back if you even mispronounce her name;

After the nightmare that Atlas was, Lucy was so happy to have such a calm baby. Natsu is just really happy because Iggy is a carbon copy of him;

Happy's running joke is to look at Iggy and say something along the lines of "Oh my god Natsu, your hair grew so much";

Iggy grew with an overbearing dad, a very protective mom and a brother who was way too much into her business, that being said the rebellion period was to be expected;

It didn't last too long (Natsu thank the skies every day), she hates being in trouble too much. She mostly sulks when she's upset now;

She is best friends and teammates with Cairo Scarlet-Fernandes and Silo Fullbuster;

Because both boys are very prone to partake in activities that result in broken bones and skulls, she has been tasked by Juvia and Erza to chaperone them at all times;

She is very responsible and a person you can count on always;

Whenever her parents leave for a mission or book tour, they very specifically put her in charge of her older brother;

[frankiebirds]

re one of ur last posts - what are ur nonbinary elle and spencer hcs?? :))

AH i actually dont have that many so a lot of these literally just came into my head. also i'm very sorry this mostly became "elle helping spencer realise he's nonbinary" headcanons, i'll have to think more about elle :((

this one is not my headcanon. i tried to find whose it is but for the life of me i cannot track it down, so if anyone knows please tell me so i can link them: they share a wardrobe. the only one who remembers which clothes initially belonged to which person is spencer, for obvious reasons. EDIT: got this from this post by @/spritehouse

elle has her shit figured out pre-canon but isn't doing anything about it because it's 2005. spencer does not have his shit figured out until after he gets with elle

well. he has it a little figured out. he knows there's something to figure out, he knows he isn't a cis man, but he's just like. i have way too much going on in my life already to think about that so i will ignore it <3 because that's worked out so well for him

pre-figuring his shit out, spencer is constantly (and largely unintentionally) mixing "menswear" and "womenswear". i really struggle to see a version of spencer where he and diana didn't experience serious financial issues after william left, and even as an adult, high-quality private psychiatric care like diana's is expensive. so, the majority of his clothes are thrifted (yes, i know about the $500 cardigans in later seasons. gifts from rossi <3) and he doesn't really care what section of goodwill he finds them in. so he's constantly wearing, like. a men's shirt under a women's cardigan over men's pants held up with a women's belt. post-figuring his shit out, this becomes intentional and he starts blatantly mixing styles. the kind of thing that gets him stopped in public by someone going "hey you know that's a women's...?" and he goes "yep! :D"

by contrast, elle, while she largely has things figured out, does not present the way she wants to for safety reasons. spencer helps her gradually feel more comfortable presenting the way she wants while she helps him figure out his gender stuff

as for reid's gender stuff, i think for a long time he's really overly fixated on labelling himself. the closest any label comes is bigender but that doesn't feel quite right and he has a lot of unnecessary angst about it. (not projecting at all shut up). eventually he's venting to elle one day about how he feels this and this and this about his gender and if he was to describe it he would describe it like this but he just can't figure it out. and then elle gets genuinely confused because it sounds to her like he very much has figured it out. it takes a long time for him to understand and accept that there isn't a magic word that will describe all parts of him, and he may never find one. and that's fine

elle does spencer's makeup. he looks in the mirror and cries.

penelope is the first person they come out to and she is DELIGHTED to have other trans people on the team. one more and they outnumber the cis people...

morgan is next. spencer says "we're nonbinary" and morgan says "is this like a 'we're pregnant' situation or are you actually talking about both of you" and elle hits him in the head. spencer immediately feels many times less anxious than he did before. i love u morgan

morgan asks spencer in private if he wants him to stop calling him pretty boy. spencer tells him to please never stop. calling him "pretty", an adjective usually used to describe women, paired with "boy" makes him very happy. with this in mind, morgan starts calling elle "handsome girl". elle pretends to be nonchalant about it, but it makes her really happy.

they never tell gideon. spencer can't handle the thought of him reacting badly. (gideon was under the impression that spencer was just closeted this whole time. oops!)

like i said, spencer REALLY likes being described as masculine and feminine in the same breath. when elle first introduces him to her friends, she says "this is spencer, she's my boyfriend" and spencer runs away to stim in private. elle's friends are very confused.

[sequinsmile-x]

Even Statues Crumble if They’re Made to Wait - Part 4

She can't stop thinking about the fact she isn't even meant to be here. That she's still supposed to be at home on maternity leave instead of sitting in a church in Colorado wondering if she'd ever see her husband or her little girl again.

A Minimal Loss AU with a Young Hotchniss twist.

Part 4/4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

-x-

Hi friends,

Sorry for the slight delay on this last part. Work has been kicking my ass this week (the return to corporate Vic after Era's Tour Vic was a rough one haha) but I really hope you like this last part of this.

I got an ask on here asking if I'd consider making this a little universe of its own - and it specifically mentioned this version of them going through LoFi/Mayhem and Demonology. Let me know if that's something you'd like to read because I *love* writing young them, and would use the opportunity to do flashbacks to get more detail about their life together.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Injury/canon typical injury

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

September 2004

“I just don’t see it.” 

Emily chuckles as she sips her cocktail, the burn of the tequila at the back of her throat satisfying as she shakes her head at Penelope.

“Well, we’ve been married almost 11 years,” she says, smiling as she thinks about her husband, how he was already on his way to pick her up from the bar because he didn’t want her to get a cab home, and she feels her cheeks warm up with her love for him, “So I don’t know what to tell you, Pen.”

Penelope sighs as she shakes her head, resting her chin on her hand as she looks intently at Emily, “You’re just…so different.” 

JJ laughs, smiling wryly when they both look over at her, “Trust me, the longer you get to know them, the more it makes sense,” she says, her smile only getting wider when Emily narrows her eyes at her, “What? I was confused as hell when I met you too. I thought Rossi was kidding when he said you were Hotch’s wife.” 

Emily rolls her eyes and has another sip of her drink, “David Rossi is prone to exaggerating.” 

“Exactly,” JJ says, “So when he told us Hotch’s wife was a spy at Interpol we thought he was lying.”

“I am not-”

“You’re a spy?” Penelope asks, her eyes wide as she looks back and forth between her new friends. She’d suggested this night out to JJ a few days ago, trying to get used to her new job and the people around her, and JJ had in turn suggested inviting Emily. It was only when they got here she realised Emily was her new boss's wife. 

“I am not, never have I been, a spy,” Emily says, raising her eyebrow at JJ, unable to stop her smile as she shakes her head before she turns her attention back to Penelope, “I used to work in intelligence gathering at Interpol-”

“Spy.” JJ fakes a cough to cover what she’s saying, her smile wider when Emily carries on as if she hasn’t interrupted her. 

“I recently transferred to the FBI in the counterterrorism team.” 

Penelope tilts her head curiously, “Not the BAU?”

Emily smiles, sighing as she shrugs, “Hopefully one day. But there was some concern about me working for Aaron. I guess I have to prove myself first.” 

She knew Aaron was furious when his request to add her to his team was denied. Gideon had certainly had something to do with it, his doubt in Aaron’s ability to be level-headed when it came to Emily well known. She was angry too since she’d had her hopes up about joining the team, but she was happy to take it one step at a time. 

“Did you work abroad when you were a spy?”

Emily smiles at her new friend, “No. I did domestic intelligence only. I was offered a covert role in Tuscany, but I would have been away for months, potentially years,” she smiles wryly, her cheeks going pink as she thinks about her husband again, “I didn’t want to spend that much time away from Aaron.” 

“Oh that is so cute,” Penelope exclaims, seemingly waiting until Emily takes a sip of her drink before she carries on, “So, when are you going to have kids?” 

Emily does a spit take, choking as she covers her mouth to stop it from going anywhere. She feels her cheeks flame in embarrassment as JJ and Penelope laugh at her. 

“One day,” she says simply, unable to fight her smile at the thought of it, “We’re not in any rush. We always said we wanted plenty of time just the two of us before we started having them.” 

It was something they both knew they wanted but they both wanted to be more established in their careers first. She knew some people found it odd, especially since they’d married so quickly, but it was right for them. As soon as she had children she’d prioritise them, make sure they were at the centre of her world and that they knew it. She wouldn’t stop working, she wasn’t sure she ever could, but she’d make sure she was home as much as possible. It was why she wanted to be part of the BAU as soon as she could be, well aware that both she and Aaron couldn’t be once they had a baby. 

She hears the bell over the bar’s front door ring and she turns, her smile getting wider as she spots Aaron walking in. She jumps down off of her stool, only realising how tipsy she is when she stumbles a little. 

“Aaron!” 

He smiles as he wraps his arms around her, his eyes flicking to JJ and Penelope as he stamps a quick kiss against her lips, “Hi sweetheart.” 

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she says, cupping his cheeks and dragging him in for another kiss, “You’re the best husband in the world.” 

He chuckles and hooks his arm around her shoulders to lead her back towards the table, “Thanks, Em,” he replies, smiling politely at JJ and Penelope, “Do either of you need a lift home?”

They both shake their heads and Penelope looks at them back and forth, her smile nothing short of delighted as she watches them, her eyes fixed on how Emily leans as closely to Aaron as possible, “I get it now.” 

Aaron frowns, his confusion only deepening when Emily laughs, the sound hidden in his neck as she presses her face into it, “Get what?” 

“I’ll tell you later, honey,” Emily soothes, kissing his neck before she pulls away, “But first, take me home. Via McDonalds.”

He nods and waves goodbye to JJ and Penelope before he turns his wife around to lead her to the exit of the bar, “Whatever you want, Em.”

___

The explosion almost knocks her off her feet. 

She stumbles, reaching out to grab at something that isn’t there, every cracked rib screaming at her as she finds her footing, the breath she sucks in scraping harshly against every bruise. Her ears ring, all other sound fading out until all she can hear is her own heartbeat and the shaky sound of her breathing. Time slows down around her as she turns to look at the church with wide eyes, backing away from it slowly, the flames almost cruel in their beauty as they destroy everything and everyone that hadn’t made it out. 

She’s brought back to herself, time speeding back up around her, in a split second. Someone lays a hand on her, a soft grip on her arm that makes her jump, flashes of the last time someone touched her, the violence of Cyrus’s skin against hers, forcing her to try to pull by instinct. Her body acting against the exhaustion she could feel in her very bones. 

“Em, sweetheart, it’s me.” 

She looks up, her eyes wide and shining as they meet his, and it feels like her chest collapses in on itself, all of the stress and trauma over the last few days finally making it give way, “Aaron?”

He nods, the hand not on her arm cupping her cheek, his thumb gentle as it scrapes along damaged and swollen skin, “Yes, baby. It’s me. It’s Aaron.”

Something about the way she looks at him makes him think of when they first met. When she was 22 and full of fire that had never dulled in the time they’d known each other. He never could have known then how important she’d become to him, how his very happiness would rest on her shoulders, how his home would be somewhere he found between her collarbone and her heartbeat. He’d come far too close over the last day or so to losing her, to having to accept it as a reality, and knows it would have broken him. He would have picked himself back up, would have done his best for his daughter, the little girl with her mother’s face who would always remind him too much of the love he’d lost, but he never would have been the same. 

How could he have been, when the only person who knew where all the pieces of him went would have been gone.  

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing the top of her head, holding her as tightly as he can without hurting her. 

“I love you too.” She collapses against him, her head against his chest as he gathers her as close as possible. He presses his face into her hair, the smell of smoke and sweat replacing the usual lavender scent that followed her around, and he breathes her in, feels her shaky, uneven, breathes pass from her chest into his as she grasps at the back of his shirt. She pulls back to kiss him, her lips firmer against his than he expected. “Where’s Alice?” She asks, wrenching herself from him, her eyes nothing short of wild as her eyes meet his, “Is she okay? What-”

“She’s fine, she’s at the hotel with JJ,” he assures her, cupping her face in both of his hands, pressing his lips against her forehead, ash and sorrow passing from her skin to his, as he tries to convince himself that she was really here, that all of his worst fears from the last few days had been unfounded, “JJ said she’d bring her to us as soon as you were safe.” 

She nods, her grip on him tightening as she turns around, guilt flooding through her as she thinks of Spencer, immediately chased away by relief when she sees him standing several feet away looking every bit as shell-shocked as she feels. He smiles at her, a quick flash of a thing, and in different circumstances she knows she’d limp over, that she’d break his usual embargo on hugs and pull him into her arms, their shared experience something that no one else could understand. But she can’t bring herself to pull away from Aaron, to remove herself from the warmth she had longed for since she’d last seen him. 

The compound hadn’t had air conditioning. It was stiflingly hot in the room she’d been kept in, their air thick and cloying, making it even harder to breathe, her lungs burning with it against fractured ribs she knew would take weeks to heal. It was the opposite of the heat that came with her husband. His was a comfort. Something she’d reach out for even on the warmest days of the year, opting to curl around him with the covers bunched up at the end of the bed, his heavy arm laid over her waist better at helping her drift off to sleep than any high-count thread sheets ever could. 

“Can we go?” Emily says as she turns back to him, “To the hotel?” 

Aaron shakes his head, running his thumb back and forth over her jawline, “We need to get you seen by at least an EMT first,” he says, his eyes flicking to the dried blood on her sleeve, the bright red skin and cut visible beneath the torn material, “Maybe even a doctor.” 

“No,” she mutters, shaking her head, the desire to see her daughter overriding anything else, “I’m fine. I don’t need to see anyone.” 

He’d never been very good at saying no to her and she knew it, but he knew he had to put his foot down, that he had to make sure she was okay, “Sweetheart-”

“I’m fine-”

“I heard everything,” he says, his voice firmer than it usually would be with her. It stops her from arguing, her insistence that she was fine stuck in her throat, “I heard him beating you, Em. So I need you to let someone look at you, okay? Can you do it for me?” 

He knows it’s playing dirty, that using her love for him against her was unfair, but he knows she’d never do it for herself. She presses her lips together and drops her head, sighing as she shakes her head, her teeth clenched together before she nods, a short, sharp thing that gives away her irritation. 

“Okay,” she says as she looks back up at him, “Let’s get this over with.” 

___

The paramedics make her go to the hospital. 

She’s momentarily furious at her husband for making her speak to them in the first place, anger she knows he doesn’t deserve licking at her insides. If it was him that was hurt, when it had been him that was hurt, she’d done the exact same thing. It wasn’t all that long ago, when she was still pregnant and when he’d been hurt in the explosion that had killed Kate Joyner, when she’d yelled at him for trying to leave the hospital just because the case was still ongoing. The stress of it all, of briefly not knowing where her husband was, if he’d died in the explosion, started contractions that kept her at home once the case was over. A dramatic end to her time in the BAU, to working by her husband’s side, that had taken her a while to get her head around. 

She shifts in the bed she’s lying in, propped up by pillows to relieve some of the pressure on her ribs, the scratchy hospital gown she’d been forced to put on rubbing against her sore skin. She felt on edge, every one of her nerves fraying as she waited for Aaron to come back. He’d stepped out of her room, pausing the vigil he’d started to keep over her, to meet JJ in the waiting area. He’d called her as soon as Emily was admitted to the hospital for the night. She was connected to IV fluids for her dehydration, something she’d only agreed to when she was told her milk supply would be at risk if they didn’t rehydrate her, and antibiotics the doctor had insisted on the moment he saw the cut on her arm.  Aaron knew if he didn’t get Alice here to see her his wife would leave against medical advice, that she’d tear the cannula delivering her meds from the back of her hand and walk back to the hotel herself if she had to. 

Emily looks up as the door opens. The relief that floods through her when Aaron steps in, Alice held against his chest and her diaper bag over his shoulder, is palpable. She thinks if she wasn’t lying down she would have stumbled because of it, the thought that she might never have seen her again suddenly so heavy she can’t breathe. 

“Look, Princess,” Aaron says, dumping the diaper bag on a chair in the corner, “It’s Mommy.” He adds, and Emily tries to sit up but winces, her hand pressed against her chest as she breathes through it, “Careful, Em. I’ll bring her to you.”

She nods, frustration at her own body, for it not working as she wanted it to, flaring through her. It’s immediately chased away as Aaron sits on the edge of her bed and adjusts his hold on Alice so he can lay her on Emily’s chest. She places her hand on her baby's back and presses her face into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo, “Hi, sweet girl. Mommy missed you.” 

Aaron places his hand over hers on Alice’s back, providing the support she’d never ask for, already seeing the tension in her shoulders that the embrace was already creating, “She missed you too.”

Emily hums, the sound giving way to a chuckle as Alice starts to root, her face rubbing against her chest, her tiny fists clasping and unclasping, “Well, she missed part of me.”

He stamps a kiss against Emily’s lips, “Need any help?”

She wants to say no, to prove to herself that she’s fine, but the desire to do so fades when she looks up at him, lingering fear shining in his eyes. She nods, her smile tight as she nods. 

“Can you untie this?” She asks, pointing to the ties of the gown on her shoulders, her arms not cooperating with her, every movement of them that brought them above chest level enough to make fire burn through her chest, the flames of it catching on each fracture Cyrus had left behind on her ribs.

He springs into action, his touch delicate as he unties the small bows, impossibly gentle with hands she knew could be capable of so much more. It was one of the many things she loved about him. His gentleness, how he’d worked so hard to be soft after his childhood, intent on being everything his father wasn’t. On chasing the violence he’d grown up around out of the world. She watches as his jaw tightens when the bruises on her abdomen are revealed as the gown falls open, his shock no less evident than it had been when he’d helped her shower just an hour ago. She knows he blames himself, something she won’t be able to talk him out of yet. She wouldn’t get anywhere with it until they were home, safe and content in the house they’d bought together, so she simply smiles at him when he looked back up at her face, a failed attempt to cover his reaction forcing a smile onto his. 

“Can you help me get her into position?” She asks, even though she’s sure she could do it herself. He nods, immediately helping her shift their daughter into place. Emily winces as she latches on, blowing out a shaky breath at the sensation, “Jesus. At least the antibiotics will help with any infection I guess,” she says conversationally, stroking her fingers back and forth over Alice’s back as she eats. Emily looks up at her husband and watches as he rubs at his ear, something he’d done for weeks after the explosion in New York, and her eyes go wide, guilt for not thinking of his damaged hearing sooner, “Crap, the explosion. You should get your ears checked.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, Em. Just a little sore-”

“No, your eardrum could have burst again,” she says, speaking over him as she reaches for the call button, “We’ll get a nurse to-”

“Em,” he says, firmer this time as he squeezes her knee, drawing her attention back to him, “It’s fine. If it carries on hurting I’ll speak to my doctor when we get home okay?” He squeezes her knee again, his grip tight as he reassures himself, “You’re the one who was…” he clears his throat, shaking his head at himself as he looks down at the bed, “I’m fine.” 

It hangs in the air around them, everything he hadn’t said but they’d both heard filling the room, making the silence heavy and thick. 

“It’s not your fault, honey,” she says, reaching out with the hand that wasn’t securing Alice to her chest, squeezing as hard as she can as she links their fingers together, “None of this was your fault.”

He looks back up at her and the bruising on her face makes his stomach swoop. The swelling and mottled skin somehow looks worse in the lighting of the room and he feels nauseous, flashes of a life he had left behind appearing over the life he had now.

“I’m the one who asked you to go.” 

She sighs and tugs him closer. There’s hardly any force behind it, her body exhausted and sore, but he follows anyway, never having to be asked twice to get close to her, “The person responsible for this is dead, Aaron. He’s dead. I need you to know I don’t blame you for any of this.”

He wants to believe her, knows she hasn’t lied to him before, but he can’t get past the heavy rock of guilt low in his stomach, something he knows will fester. Something that would take root and grow over the next few weeks, with no chance of going anywhere until all of her bruises had faded, something he’d think about in years to come when he looked at the long silver line on her arm that the cut would one day become. 

He nods despite himself, swallowing thickly, because he knows now isn’t the time, that he simply wants to spend time with his girls when, not that long ago, a part of him was convinced he’d never get to do so again.

“Okay,” he says, pressing his forehead against hers, “Okay.”

She stamps her lips against his, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Alice cries out from between them, her face screwed up in a frown as she pulls away from Emily, making both of her parents laugh. 

“We love you too, baby,” Emily says as Aaron rearranges her gown for her, leaving the ties slightly looser than they had been before so she can pull them open herself. “I think we can convince Daddy to lay with us for a bit.” 

He frowns, already shaking his head before she’s finished speaking, “Sweetheart, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She looks at him with wide eyes he’d never been able to say no to, and she angles Alice to face him too, the baby already half asleep, “Please.”

He sighs and stamps a kiss against Emily’s forehead and then the top of Alice’s head as he stands up, “The day she masters that look too I’m never winning an argument in our house again.”

She laughs, wincing as it makes her ribs jump and she lightly shakes her head at him to let her know she’s okay. 

“Oh honey,” she says, shifting just as much as she can to let him slip into the bed behind her. She leans back against him, sighing contentedly as she finds true comfort for the first time in days, settling into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her and Alice, “When was the last time you did win an argument?” 

-x-

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[isagrimorie]

So… this is something I just wrote down last night— it’s not perfect nor beta’d and I don’t know how in character the voices are. But I’ve wanted an Elle Greenaway meet the BAU team again and this happened.

Happens sometime during the Criminal Minds Evolution era:

Title: Ships Passing | Ao3 Fandom: Criminal Minds Characters: Elle Greenaway, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss Summary: Elle bumps into the BAU team. (Criminal Minds Evolution timeline)

Elle didn’t love coming down to Atlantic City, or any big city where there was a chance she could run into the BAU. Her luck’s held up for a decade. After all, it’s a big world.

But Elle should have known that nothing would last forever.

Elle stayed out of law enforcement, bounced around several NGOs, and finally ended up as a private investigator for a small law firm. Most of the cases she worked on were shoe leather for corporate lawyers. The cases were mostly fraud, and the only big sexy case Elle handled had to do with corporate espionage.

It’s not exactly how Elle saw her life going but knows her triggers now and she wasn’t going to give Gideon or Hotch the satisfaction of turning into some kind of vigilante.

Long story even shorter, her job forced her down to Atlantic City and now she’s one of a dozen witnesses to a shooting. It’s something that’s been happening over the week, and if Elle knew she’d have assigned one of the junior investigators to go instead of her.

As it was, Elle had to watch as a group of cops and FBI swarmed through the lobby and instinctively Elle knew the very center of the group would be the BAU. Elle expected Hotch and the team to burst through the doors at any second -- and they did.

Except… the person leading the group wasn’t a dour man in a suit and a rumpled, grumpy Academic but a silver-haired woman in a red trench coat. She took point and assigned their duties, Elle took a step back and suddenly doubted this was the BAU team. There was no one in this team Elle recognized.

Elle chuckled wryly to herself. What was she expecting? It was more than ten years since she left, of course, nothing would stay the same. Maybe Gideon finally retired, and Hotch moved up from the BAU, Elle swore Hotch would die wearing that G-Man suit until the day he died.

She felt a pang. It was both relief and sadness. Maybe even after all this time, despite how she left she did still want to see the old team, especially Spencer and Morgan. They were her friends after all.

“Thank you all for your cooperation,” a familiar voice began. Elle turned and a jolt of surprise struck her.

No, there was still someone Elle recognized, and the team was the BAU but the woman addressing the crowd wasn’t the same woman Elle knew back in her time.

The woman speaking was Jennifer Jareau --JJ-- but this JJ was a far cry from the Media Liaison Elle knew. Gone was the Business Casual uniform she always wore and the deferential girl next door media-trained persona. In her place stood a confident, sharp field agent. JJ had exchanged her slacks for leather jackets, jeans, and field-ready boots.

“Hi.”

Elle turned, surprised that someone was able to get to her side without her noticing. She prided herself on being aware of her surroundings at all times. She never wanted someone to get the drop on her again.

And yet, somehow, someone did slip her guard. It was especially jarring when that someone wore a stylish red trench coat.

The silver-haired woman smiled at her. Elle noted that despite the silver hair she didn’t look as old as she thought. “I’m Special Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Elle,” Elle replied, holding back on her last name.

“Did you see what happened here?”

“Not really, I only knew what was happening after the Uns-shooter escaped,” Elle answered, and cringed inwardly because she knew Prentiss caught the flub.

Prentiss’s eyebrows went up, “The UnSub?” She looked both curious and like she was trying to figure something out. “Your name is Elle.” Elle nodded, hopeful and resigned at the same time that Prentiss wasn’t going where Elle thought she was going. “You’re Elle Greenaway.”

Elle nodded, reluctantly, “Yes.”

Prentiss’s expression softened. “Derek and Spencer talked about you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.” What have they said about her? Good things? Bad things? How did she wash out of the BAU because she couldn’t take the heat?

Elle braced herself for either a pitying or judgmental look.

Instead, Prentiss looked almost sympathetic. “They missed you. They never forgot you.”

“Oh.” Elle felt unexpectedly emotional. “I also missed them.”

Prentiss then turned and called out, “JJ!”

“Wait--“ Elle tried to stop her but JJ already walked toward them and Elle knew the moment this new, hardened JJ recognized her.

“Elle?” She sped up her walk, “Oh my god.”

“Nice to see you too, JJ,” Elle said, resigned to this impromptu reunion.

“You’re a field agent now, huh?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years now.”

“Boss!” A voice called out and Prentiss’s head swiveled around, a man in an FBI jacket jogged from another part of the lobby.

“JJ will get your statement,” Prentiss informed them and then nodded before meeting the man halfway. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too.” She returned automatically and then turned her attention to JJ, who still looked stunned. “Is she the Unit Chief?”

“Yes,” JJ answered, following Elle’s gaze to Prentiss. “Hotch picked Emily to lead the BAU when he left the Bureau a few years ago.”

“What?” The news rocked Elle. “I never thought Hotch would leave the Bureau.”

There was a look in JJ’s eyes haunted and wistful at the same time, “We didn’t think so either.” Her face softened. “A lot’s happened. Maybe, if you’re still around later you can join us for drinks? Catch up?”

“Maybe.” Elle left this life a long time ago, and she didn’t regret it. “I don’t know how much I can help. I’m not from around here.”

JJ looked at Elle, her eyes piercing and sharp and Elle was reminded even more now that JJ was a Profiler. She nodded. “Can you walk me through what you saw?”

Elle took the change of topic for the reprieve it was. She recounted the details of her arrival at the hotel, what her purpose was, a meeting with a client, and what time it was she heard the gunshot. “But that’s all I can give.”

“How long will you be in Atlantic City?” JJ asked.

“Just another day. I’ll be flying off tomorrow.” Elle produced her calling card, “But you can contact me if you need any more details from me.”

The corners of JJ’s lips quirked up. “That’s supposed to be my line.” JJ accepted the card. “It’s good to see you again, Elle. And the invitation for drinks is open.” And it was JJ’s turn to give her card, “Just in case.”

Elle took the card without reading the card, “It was… good to see you too, JJ. Tell Gideon and the boys ‘hey’ from me.”

There was a pause, and JJ’s face softened. “Elle, Gideon died.”

“Oh.”

Of course.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sorry you had to know this way.”

Elle didn’t know what to say. Gideon loomed so large in her time with the BAU that she couldn’t imagine the BAU without Jason Gideon. Elle half expected the BAU to shutter when Gideon died but she was wrong. The world continued to turn, and the BAU continued to do its job.

“Thanks for telling me,” Elle said and then did look at the details of the card. It read SSA Jennifer Jareau, BAU. “I’ll call you about the drinks. But I have an appointment somewhere else…”

JJ smiled, but Elle knew JJ knew Elle won’t take her up on JJ’s invitation.

“It was great seeing you again, Elle.”

“You too.”

And then Elle walked out of the hotel. Elle moved on from her life, the events in the BAU had a big impact on her life but she processed that moment and it took her a long time to get over.

It was bizarre seeing them again, seeing JJ, and seeing new faces.

Maybe she needed that unexpected reunion, she needed to see the BAU was not frozen in amber and time has done what time does.

Moves on and changes.

—fin—

[the-guilty-writer]

Not Just A Rossi

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: When Spencer notices RR struggling with her father's return to work, he can't help but intervene... with help of course.

A/N: It's been a while! This isn't exactly the way I want it, but right now I'm just happy to be able to write a little bit again.

CW: RR forgets to eat, is sleep deprived, eating food, details of a case

---

You were doing that thing again - that thing you did whenever you felt threatened or questioned. It was a defense mechanism that Spencer had identified within the first week that you began working at the BAU.

Desperate to prove your worth, you filled out double (sometimes triple) the amount of files you needed to. On cases, you didn’t eat or sleep until they were solved. You worked harder than any agent on the team, Hotch included, in an effort to prove that you belonged there- that you were worthy of your place on the team.

Those first four months had nearly brought you to your knees. Nobody had seen that you were drowning in self-doubt, being hit over and over again, wave after wave of looking for reassurance that you could never get. Nobody noticed.

Except for Spencer.

He was the one who looked at you one day and told you that you were more than just your name - that your brilliance and boldness made you more than worthy of being an agent at the BAU. He’d thrown you the life vest you were so desperately in need of. He’d also convinced you to grab on.

It had taken time for you to find your own identity within the team; for you to recognize that you were so much more than your father’s daughter, and that was why Gideon had hired you in the first place. There was always an underlying insecurity, but for the most part it had gone away. In the moments that the monster rose to the surface and you didn’t notice, your husband did. Spencer would find a quiet moment in the chaos, brushing his hand across yours to catch your attention before leaning in to whisper “Lo credo in te, mio amata.” in your ear- I believe in you, my beloved.

You hadn’t needed reassurance in a long time, but with your dad’s return to the BAU, you were falling into your old patterns and habits. The doubts and fears were seeping through the box that you carefully contained them in, leaking toxins into your mind.

You didn’t even realize it was happening at first - subconsciously wearing your more professional attire and packing your lunch instead of going out with the girls on days where work was a little slower. You ignored the more passive questions about your family-work situation instead of coming back with a snarky remark like everyone expected.

Spencer was the only one who noticed. Your shoulders were more tense than normal when he hugged you, kisses weren’t quite as long, and the underlying anxiety caused you to be a bit more tired than normal, which he had to admit put a damper on your most private relationship activities. All your husband could do was check in with you at work more often, but he didn’t want to say anything about it until it actually became an issue. For all he knew, it was a phase that would pass after a few months.

It didn’t.

Hotch was the second person to suspect anything was wrong. When a local PD questioned the team, you were normally bold in the face of their accusations, but for the past couple cases, you’d been avoidant of the comments - keeping more quiet than normal. It was during a flight home after a case that confirmed his suspicions to be true. Normally you would have been next to Spencer, both of you asleep with your shoulders brushing and pinky fingers overlapping - trying to stay as professional as possible, but unable to deny that you needed to be touching. But despite the grueling 72 hours the team endured, you and Hotch sat at the table awake, getting through paperwork.

“I can do those, you know,” Hotch said quietly.

You shook your head. “For me it’s just another hour of paperwork. For you it’s another hour you can spend with Jack.”

Since Haley had left, you’d been trying your best to help him. Previously, it was with situations outside of work- mitigating the couple’s conversations, or you and Spencer taking Jack for a few hours so the boy didn’t have to listen to his parents arguing - but now you were taking on his consults when you could, writing up parts of reports for him, going over interviews… anything you could. It was as if you were trying to subtly drown yourself in pen and printer ink.

Hotch didn’t respond to your comment. He just kept writing, knowing he’d have to find some time to talk to Reid about it.

---

“Are you and (Y/N) okay at home?” Hotch asked softly. Spencer had come into his office to drop off his finished files. The doctor was entirely unprepared to be ambushed by such a question.

Spencer’s chest felt tight as he looked at you sitting at your desk in the bullpen, and then at the open office door. “We’re fine,” he said, giving himself time to think about what to say next. “Still making sense of Gideon leaving.” It was the truth, just not the whole truth.

Hotch looked down. “She has nothing to prove,” he said. “None of us do.”

Spencer nodded in understanding and left the office. He almost went straight to you to pose an intervention, before realizing that was an intervention too big for himself to handle. Instead, he checked to see that you were still invested in your work before quietly walking to your dad’s office.

“Hi, Agent Rossi,” Spencer said as he entered. “Can- uh- can we talk?”

Your dad made a face that Spencer couldn’t quite read - maybe it was because his father-in-law scared him just a bit, or maybe because David Rossi had a truly strange range of expressions. Still, he was relieved when your dad said “Sure,” and gestured for Spencer to take a seat across from him.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Rossi asked.

Spencer glanced nervously in your direction. He’d gotten better at hiding his tells over the years, but there was no point in hiding them right now. “(Y/N)’s been struggling with you returning to work,” he said.

Rossi raised an eyebrow at him. “Go on.”

“When Gideon hired her she kind of went through an identity crisis about who she is outside of… well, you.” Rarely did Spencer have a hard time finding words, but he did right then. “It took time for her to feel like she deserved to be on the team because she’s good at her job, and not because she’s your daughter.”

“She never told me that.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if the twinge in your dad’s voice was concern for you, or doubts in him. “I don’t think she ever wanted you to know,” your husband got quiet.

It suddenly felt as though he was spilling a secret he shouldn’t even have access to. You’d never said that you didn’t want your dad to know how hard it had been coming into the most elite unit of the FBI and constantly questioning how and why you were there; always wondering if someone had pulled strings they weren’t supposed to. Yet, it seemed like Rossi had a right to know there was a monster lurking within his relationship with his daughter.

Rossi sighed. “She didn’t even tell me that Gideon hired her until her first day here.”

“You didn’t tell her you were coming back to work until you arrived at the office,” Spencer said, immediately regretting his decision when he heard how accusatory the sentence was. With his foot in his mouth, Spencer found himself scrambling to find words. “I mean- I know it was with good intentions but- not, not but-”

“Spencer.” He turned to see you in the doorway of your father’s office. You looked immediately from your husband to your father. “Papa.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cosa diamine stai facendo?”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Can’t Reid and I just talk? Da uomo a uomo?”

Spencer knew enough Italian to know the words the two of you were saying, but he quickly realized that he did not speak enough father-daughter to understand the conversation.

You sighed, annoyed, and ignored Rossi, turning to your husband instead. “I’m going to work late again tonight. I’m helping counter terrorism get through some extra cases and it’s taking longer than expected.”

Spencer stood up from the chair. “I can help you. We’ll get through them faster tog-”

You shook your head to cut him off. “We’ve already worked late every day this week and there’s leftover eggplant parmesan at home that isn’t going to eat itself.”

All Spencer could do was put an awkward grin on his face. He almost leaned in for a kiss before realizing that the two of you were still in the presence of your dad. Instead, he gave you a gentle kiss on your temple. “Come home tonight, please?”

It hadn’t happened before - you staying the night at the office and Spencer waking up to an empty bed - but he was worried it might. The bags under your eyes and hollow look to your face spoke of desperate need for sleep.

“I will,” you whispered to him. 

He left your dad’s office and made his way down to the bullpen. Your desk was stacked with extra files, loose papers with hastily scribbled notes were all over, and your lunchbox sat untouched. Spencer sighed and threw his satchel over his shoulder. Before he left for the night, he put a note on your chair, where you were sure to notice it:

Your lunch isn’t going to eat itself - S.R.

---

You weren’t sure what time it was, just that the bullpen was empty, the janitor had left hours ago, even Hotch’s office was dark, and your lunchbox was still untouched. The stack on your desk had gotten significantly smaller, but at the rate you were going, you hoped you could keep your promise to Spencer that you’d make it home tonight. Your stomach growled as you eyed your lunchbox, but you had to weigh your options: get through another file and make it home, or eat.

You had to make it home tonight. You would never hear the end of it if you didn’t.

With a sigh, you reached to grab another file. this time it would be the last- 

“Mio passerotta.”

“Cazzo!” Your exhausted body was brought to alert by the voice of your dad coming from behind you. You sighed and regained your composure. “Papa, what are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I don’t remember raising my daughter to use words like that,” Rossi said as he walked towards you, ignoring your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Please, Papa. I don’t have time for this.”

“You know you’re lucky that you and Spencer both work for the BAU,” your father continued to go on, finally perching on the side of your desk, uninvited. “You’ve been working overtime. Last week you didn’t even make the poor guy a homemade meal-”

“Now that’s just sexist-”

“And you have to be back here in,” Rossi looked down at his watch, “five hours. You told him you would make it home tonight.”

“And I will,” you snapped. “After I finish this file.” You picked up your pen and opened the manila folder. You might have been able to concentrate on your work if your dad didn’t keep talking.

“After I finish this file…” he said with annoyingly negative nostalgia. “Do you know how many times I said that back when I was your age? It ended two of my marriages.”

“Why do you keep bringing up my husband and my marriage?” The exhaustion and the hunger made you far more irritated than normal.

“Because, mio passerotta, you have a good one. A great one. So great that your husband took it upon himself to tell me that you’ve been struggling with my return to work.”

You froze. The wall you had built up of overworking and papers and file folders and crime scene photos came tumbling down in an ocean around you. You were drowning, just like you had been years ago; and once again, Spencer had been the one to notice. But he sent your father to save you this time around.

Your dad grabbed your lunchbox from the desk with one hand and offered you the other. “Come on,” he said gently.

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet, leading you towards the glass doors of the bullpen and towards the elevator. Suddenly, you felt like a little girl again; though you were older now, and much taller, your mind was ravished with memories of when you came to the BAU when you were little - your dad holding your lunchbox in one hand and gently gripping your small fist in the other.

The memories became even more vivid when you stepped off the elevator and onto the basement floor.

Your dad let go of your hand and walked to a small clearing in the space, which was now exclusively used for storage. Old desks stacked on top of one another, broken printers in the corner, and long folding tables pushed against the wall still gave it the overly-crowded feel of the old BAU headquarters.

“What are we doing here?” you sighed, following him.

Rossi sat down and opened up your lunchbox, beginning to pick through what was essentially granola bars, bags of chips, and sleeves of crackers. You barely had time to go grocery shopping recently, much less cook for yourself. Your dad pulled out a bag of Spicy Italian flavored snack mix - the same snack mix he used to get you as an after school snack - and opened it before taking a bite. He finished munching the handful of mix in his mouth and held the bag out to you. “Trying to remember who I was.”

You sighed, took a handful from the bag, and sat down across from him.

“You were, what, twelve years old when they finally moved us to this office?” Rossi reminisced.

“Thirteen,” you corrected. “And I’d hardly call this an office.”

“It was better than the glorified storage closet we were in before.”

“This is a glorified storage closet now.” But when you looked around you could still picture the space in its hay-day; where the white boards hung on the walls, the circles of desks, the floor to ceiling shelves that held boxes and boxes of files, even the place that had been blocked off to act as a small conference room. You could have mapped it out better than your childhood bedroom.

“True,” Rossi started. “But I’d like to think some rather important things happened here.”

“Your retirement party happened here,” you pointed out.

“It did.” Finished with the snack mix, your dad got to his feet. You followed his lead as he moseyed around a bit. “But right there,” he gestured to a space on the back wall where a board once hung. “That’s where we hung your high school graduation sign.”

“Yeah…”

“And over there.” He nodded towards the middle of the room where a circle of desks used to be. “That’s where you met Aaron for the first time.”

“What does-”

Your dad brushed right past you and stood in a space that you couldn’t remember if it had any meaning to it at all. “And this is where you helped on your first ever profile, at the age of thirteen years old.”

You paused and stared at him for a minute. Sure, you’d stolen files from old cases without permission, but you couldn’t ever remember putting a profile together. There were a few times you used solved cases as parts of school projects, or sorted through old file boxes for community service hours. You had thought any thievery of paperwork was done well for you being a teenager surrounded by profilers.

“I wasn’t allowed to help with profiles,” you stated blankly. “And I never sto- borrowed files from unsolved cases. Just the solved ones so I could learn. If you spend enough time around here you get curious about what everyone is talking about.”

“You may have not been allowed to help with profiles,” Rossi said. “But you had no problem pointing out when a young trainee was wrong.”

You couldn’t argue with that. As a teenager, you’d gotten a kick out of questioning the younger agents' skills; it was amusing to watch their faces falter into frowns over profiles they had been so proud of just moments before you tipped over their house of cards.

“I was standing over there,” Rossi pointed to a corner, “with Jason, while Agent Chambers presented his preliminary profile on two bodies found in Seattle. Both young women were stabbed in the lower abdomen. The trail went cold quickly.”

“I remember now,” you said. “That case showed up again years later, and then went cold again. It’s still unsolved.”

“That’s the one. Chambers said that because the two victims were young, and their reproductive organs were targeted, the unsub must have been older - in his mid thirties at least. More likely in his forties or fifties.”

You smirked just a bit. “I said there was no way the unsub could be older. There was overkill on the first victim and the second was more controlled. It shows evolving, which pointed to the unsub being younger: twenty five to thirty five.”

“And you were right,” Rossi said, walking towards you. “It opened up the entire profile, so when two more bodies showed up years later, we didn’t ignore it. At thirteen years old you understood more about profiling than an agent with proper training.”

You shrugged. “Because you’re my dad.”

He shook his head. “Mio passerotta, the reason you’re good at your job has very little to do with me. Being a Rossi might have helped you get a jump-start in your profiling education, but it didn’t make you a profiler. It didn’t earn you your academy scores, or get you placed with the BAU. You did that, all on your own."

A rather sheepish grin crossed your face and your eyes began to water. Sure, your dad had told you he was proud of you countless times - so had Gideon - but it was rare that he told you that you were good. The weight lifted off your shoulders; the bouldering burden of your name dissolved into thin air. A tear of relief rolled down your cheek as you stood up just a bit taller than you had in months as that little bit of confidence, the little bit of fire you had lost, began to shine through once again.

Rossi wrapped you in a hug, holding you close like he always did, and you hugged him back. “Grazie, Papa,” you whispered.

Rossi smiled. “Always, mio passerotta.” He gently let you go and planted a kiss on your forehead. “But I think you have someone else you need to thank.”

You smiled and nodded before rushing towards the elevator to get on your way home.

---

It was nearly 4 AM when you walked into your and Spencer’s apartment. You had expected Spencer might wait for you for a few hours before going to bed, but it was clear to you, seeing him asleep on the couch with a book open on his chest, that he had waited as long as he could. You put down your bag and slipped your shoes off before padding over to the couch.

Gently, you took the book off Spencer’s chest and placed it on the coffee table before laying beside him on the couch and replacing the weight of the novel with the presence of your hand. Without opening his eyes, Spencer adjusted so you could snuggle in.

“You’re home,” he said groggily, still half asleep.

“I’m home,” you replied.

You could have contributed how fast you fell drowsy with how long you had been awake, the lack of nutrition in your system, or emotional exhaustion, but it was more than that. It was the warmth of Spencer’s embrace, the gentle feeling of his breath on your skin, the steady beating of his heart under your hand, and the comfort of being with someone who knew you better than yourself.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, but Spencer had already fallen asleep.

---

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[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 1

oooh and now we have another countdown - this time its five days until the tomb opens! which is both concerning and mildly confusing given Harrow already opened the tomb

and a new image for the chapter header - not an animal skull or a skull at all but a cave with chains over it! presumably representing the tomb itself which in of itself is very intriguing

‘Late in the year of nobody she really thought of in particular’ hah, take that John

ok so Nona’s dreaming of a painted face … the first two immediate options that come to mind are Gideon and Harrow, clearly. in a body of water, could it be the River? or possibly, if the ‘her’ in ‘her hands’ she’s talking about is Alecto, it could be the saltwater of the tomb?

so far the first thing thats struck me is just how sweet the relationship between Nona and Camilla is 

‘A beaker of violently orange liquid, radioactively orange even in the dark’ what the fuck kinda eggs are these guys eating

and Nona has black hair! very long black hair which grows fast, which very much suggests that this is Harrow’s body, given what Ianthe did to her hair last book. this also pretty much rules out another initial theory i had for Nona, which was that she might have been in Gideon’s body, since we know that was picked up by the BoE last book

and another point for being some kind of amnesiac Harrow - Nona appears to have a lot of issues with eating 

Okay … so Camilla and Pal are sharing Camilla’s body, kind of a reverse of Gideon-in-Harrow last book, but not quite given that they somehow seem to have swapped each-others eye colours. it’s not just that they’re sharing a body, since Gid & Harrow explicitly retained their own eye colours, but some kind of other situation

hmm Nona seems relatively upbeat, but there’s a lot of conversation about militia links and black market goods, life wherever they are doesn’t seem all that great tbh

and they’re hiding something about the overall situation they’re in from Nona, and its very unclear whose side they’re on. given the end of the last book, the fact they seem to be in some kind of hiding on a non-House planet, I doubt they’re fully with the Emperor/Nine Houses. but then they definitely don’t seem to be onboard with, and have a very uneasy relationship with, the Blood of Eden, especially given the whole kinda-Lyctorhood situation they’ve got going on. 

and there’s an awful lot going on here. they keep mentioning a search and recovery mission, which begs the question for what exactly are they looking for. it can’t be the Tomb or anything because its pretty well known where THAT is. and Pal and Pyrrha have very different philosophies on whatever’s happening - Pal seems to want to help some kind of situation with people trapped in barracks, while Pyrrha thinks its not worth it. and on top of all of that BoE is not quite one cohesive group as it was described in HtN, there’s some kind of inter-organisational conflict going on. 

‘I know how to farm … I can teach you and Nona’ rip G1deon who never got to live his Stardew Valley dreams. Locked Tomb: the Farming Simulator when?

also it is interesting that even G1deon, seemingly the most loyal of the Emperor’s lyctors (or at least the only one seemingly not actively trying to kill him) still had a backup plan and wanted to run away to just lead some kind of a normal life

and they need masks of some kind? and Nona’s immune - more points for her being Harrow, or at least in Harrow’s body, Nona’s body clearly works like a Lyctors 

oh shit there’s a mysterious blue light in the sky that’s ‘periscoping’? It could be some kind of surveillance but i think its far more likely to be the seventh Resurrection Beast, which is there for … some reason? Lotta questions raised just in this one chapter

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

2

I've just realised! We have new chapter intro pics. This one is a stylised Locked Tomb:

We also had the same one last chapter.

Let's dive in.

PYRRHA worked for Nona, Camilla looked after Nona, and Palamedes taught Nona, all on the understanding that she was not simply a person, but probably one of two people. Nona did not know either of her real possible names.

We're starting with a banger. A quick explanation. This is, someone in Harrow's body, and the three she lives with seem to assume she is either Gideon or Harrow. She hasn't seemed much like either so far.

Nona talked to herself in the mirror even now. When she had been earlier born, and less self-conscious, sometimes she would rest her face against the mirror’s face, and try to reach her reflection. Camilla had caught her kissing it once, and had written about six pages of notes on that, which was humiliating.

This is funny and sweet and sad. Nona clearly loves herself so much more than either Gideon or Harrow ever loved themselves.

I don't think she is Gideon or Harrow. She could be Alecto, having left her memories behind with Harrow in Alecto's body, coming into Harrow's body nearly newborn, completely innocent. She could be some random revenant clinging to Harrow's body.

I suppose she could still be Gideon - reeling from Harrow's soul not being in her body, and working with Harrow's brain damage that is specifically designed not to remember Gideon at all. Therefore, she is now stuck in Harrow's body, unable to remember herself.

I suppose if that's true, even just getting a bit of tenderness from Camilla and Palamedes and Pyrrha is enough to make her love herself?

I suppose we will find out.

If Camilla had six pages of notes on her kissing herself she had about twenty regarding eyes. Nona’s egg-yellow eyes belonged to the other person —the other girl; that was how all of their bodies worked, not only hers.

Lending more weight to the Nona is Gideon theory; the only time we've seen Harrow's body have Gideon's eyes is when Gideon took over, when the Resurrection Beast attacked the Mithraeum.

Also this:

“So someone’s inside me, then? I mean—I’m that somebody?” She always stumbled over this.

Stumbling over Gideon's mere existence indicates this could be Gideon still struggling with the effects of Harrow's lobotomy.

Or Nona isn't Gideon but struggling with the existence of Gideon, thanks to the lobotomy.

Oh Harrow, I mean we knew you fucked up your body big time, but man, this kinda sucks, huh?

(Makes for very compelling storytelling, though.)

“They wanted to see me naked,” said Nona. “It was a sex thing.” Camilla had made a sound, and then pretended it was a cough, and drank a whole glass of water. After the glass of water, she said, “How did you know?” “That’s just the way people look when they want to see you naked and it’s a sex thing,” said Nona. “I don’t really mind.”

This made me chuckle. And points towards Gideon, again, I think.

But Nona couldn’t shoot or fight or think. All she had was a good nature —that wasn’t true all the time, but Nona didn’t want it bruited about that she had a bad temper when she had only ever thrown two tantrums in her life and couldn’t remember either of them.

She can't remember her "tantrums"? Interesting! Interesting indeed. What were they about? At least one of them was about getting stuck in clothes.

Every day she held a sword until she seriously didn’t care about swords anymore, but she still couldn’t fight with one, no matter how big or thin it was. Camilla had wanted to teach her properly, but Pyrrha said not to, that they wouldn’t be able to tell if anything suddenly came back. Nona couldn’t do the forbidden bone tricks either, even though Palamedes did nearly the exact same thing with big grey lumps of bone as Camilla did with the sword.

But Nona is weak, and doesn't seem to have either Harrow or Gideon's skills. She does have a very, very sweet nature.

Nona was good at: 1. touching, 2. wiping dishes, 3. running her hand over the flat cork carpet in a way that got all the hair out of it, 4. sleeping in lots of different ways and positions, and 5. speaking any language that was spoken to her, in person, so she could see the person’s face and eyes and lips.

That's a pretty good skillset, tbh. I love the languages thing. How??? It's so cool. I'm jealous.

Nona understood everybody, and could speak back to them so that they understood her, and nobody ever said she had an accent. This confounded Palamedes. When she first said that she could speak back by watching them talk and making her lips look like theirs, it confounded him so much more that it gave Camilla a headache.

That is pretty confounding!! Very cool, very mysterious. This isn't anything Gideon or Harrow could do, to our knowledge, and honestly languages never have been mentioned very much so far, so it's certainly very strange.

Was this one of Alecto's skills?

Many people had lived through at least one bad resettlement already. Everyone was crammed on one of three planets now, and they all agreed that this planet was easily the worst, though this always made Nona feel a little bit offended on the planet’s part.

"Everyone"?? All of humanity, presumably minus the Nine Houses, who live at the Nine Houses, and the Cohort, who seem to mostly live on spaceships? Who is "Everyone" referring to here?

You were not allowed to say the words zombies, necromancers, or necromancy outside her house, or really inside it either.

Okay, okay, so these are not necromancers, nor do most of them see necromancy in a positive light. Random civilians, people caught up in Blood of Eden stuff, or both?

Interesting that Zombie is used to refer to necromancers.

Nona was so grateful to have had a whole six months of this. It was greedy to expect much longer.

:(

Another girl, another teenager who's expecting to die by the end of the book. Haven't we had enough dead kids around here?