darkomoth

[darkomoth]

Insomniacs

Chapter 3: The Evaluation

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: Hotch offers you some company while you finish recovering and you stress about passing your psych and physical evaluations. The BAU gets a new case.

Notes: More tension! Let me know what you think of the series :) I'm thinking like 1-2 more chapters??

Also uploaded on Ao3 under the same title

Word count: 7.9K

Ch.1 Ch.2

The ride to Hotch’s apartment was quiet, though not uncomfortable. The nervousness and excitement in you made your fingers thrum against your thighs and avert his eyes.

When you’d arrived, Hotch silently got out of the car and opened your door. You took his hand without hesitation and allowed him to take your bag and walk you up to his floor. The whole time, your heart was beating out of your chest, but you tried not to show it.

Inside, Hotch was still silent as he removed your coat and set it down on the nearby couch with your bag. When you couldn’t take the tension anymore, you asked him, “Is Jack home?” 

“He’s at a sleep away camp for two weeks.” His soft voice carried over to you as he walked towards the kitchen.

You stood a little awkwardly in the front room, trying to gauge what to say or do in this situation. Hotch was filling up two glasses of water and all you could do was stare at his back.

Eventually he made his way back over to you and offered one of the glasses, which you accepted and took a sip of. The silence was killing you and you felt the need to fill it with something, anything. “You know, Reid told me that the majority of water on Earth is undrinkable…”

Hotch hummed thoughtfully before taking a sip of his own, “I think you should stay here for a while.” 

That caught you off-guard. You blinked at him a few times, unable to tell what he meant, “Stay here?”

“While you finish recovering.” He says as if it were obvious.

You look around Hotch’s place. You knew that he lived alone with Jack and that Jessica would sometimes be over so he most likely had a guest room, but the thought of being here with him for however many days… you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“I would feel better if you weren’t alone.” Hotch says, interrupting your thoughts. You look into his eyes and he seems to be genuinely concerned for you, it makes you shift a bit where you stand. You weren’t sure what you’d expected when he initially drove passed your apartment complex, but it wasn’t this.

“Hotch, I appreciate you caring about me, but I just don’t think you would like having me here.” You say, laughing a bit. You both moved over to the living room, setting down your glasses on the coffee table. “I- I’m an insomniac, I mean you know that, and I’m stubborn so I’ll definitely get on your nerves, and I listen to music pretty loud-“

“I don’t care about any of that.” Hotch says, eyebrows furrowing. “I just… need to know that you’re okay.” His gaze stays on you as you take a step closer to him.

“I’m fine. I really am, I know that tonight wasn’t convincing but I-“ Hotch grabs your hand and you stop talking.

“Please.” Is all he says.

It takes a moment to find your breath again. “Okay.”

His hand is still in yours and it sends a warmth all the way up your arm and you swear that it reaches your face. You have to clear your throat and take a step back before you do something stupid. Hotch takes that as a cue to move away as well.

He nods and starts to make his way to his bedroom, “I’ll grab some clothes for you to wear tonight. Tomorrow we can stop at your place and grab everything you need, sorry this was such short-notice.”

You take a seat on the couch and kick off your shoes, seeing as you’d be here for a little while. You took out a couple clips that were in your hair and cracked your neck, the events of the day finally settling on your shoulders and weighing you down.

Hotch was back a minute later, offering the plain white T-shirt and some black drawstring sweatpants. You and he both knew they’d be too big but it was something. He directed you to the bathroom and allowed you to change as he set up the guest room.

You removed the black dress that you’d been in all night and slipped on the comfy shirt and sweats. They smelled like him, you thought happily. It took you longer than it probably should have to come back out. Hotch was waiting for you in the living room, also changed into his pajamas. He wore a black tee and blue plaid pajama bottoms, and you tried not to stare too much. You’d never seen him so relaxed.

Hotch was looking at you in a similar way, unable to meet your eyes. “I uh,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I put some extra pillows and blankets in there and your bag’s next to the nightstand…”

You nodded and smiled at him, “Thank you.” The two of you were only a foot apart and the nervousness from earlier came crashing back. In the field, you were always very sure of yourself. You could distance yourself from the victims, interrogate suspects without displaying emotion, even break horrible news to parents without blinking, but here and now in Hotch’s space, you felt completely out of your element. 

Hotch opened the guest room door for you, “Let me know if you need anything, I’m right next to you.”

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.

-

Hotch wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he was doing. Of course he wanted Y/N to stay with him, it’s something he’s thought about since everything had happened, but there was a reason he didn’t act on it. Having her here was going to be difficult.

When he saw her coming out of the bathroom with his clothing on, looking tired and beautiful, it took everything in him not to stride over to her and kiss her.

Now that she was in her room and Hotch was in his, he paced a bit. He thought about how Y/N looked at him in the car, how she shivered when he removed her jacket and the way her hand felt in his. He allowed himself to hope, even for just a few minutes, that she returned his feelings for her.

Hotch shook it from his mind, it wasn’t going to help to dwell on it. Besides, he was her superior and she was younger than him. There were too many reasons why it wouldn’t work… and still he allowed himself to imagine.

After about an hour of working at his desk, Hotch decided it was time to lay down for the night and hopefully the next day everything would feel more calm. His rest was interrupted with the sound of movement behind the wall only a few minutes later. His room was connected to the guest room, and the walls weren’t exactly soundproof. He listened to footsteps as Y/N moved around, he could hear the sink running from the bathroom, and then more pacing. The clock on his nightstand read 11:58 pm and he knew that she wouldn’t be asleep for several more hours, if she slept at all.

He listened some more as she opened her door and went out into the living room. Hotch could tell that she was trying to be quiet, probably for his sake. The kitchen sink ran and he thought he could hear coffee brewing. With a small sigh he got out of bed and made his way out into the living room.

Y/N stopped what she was doing when she heard Hotch approaching. Her hair was slightly messy and the makeup she had on from earlier was washed off, but she was still glowing. Her black eye had almost entirely disappeared, but the last bit of yellowing bruises lingered across her cheek bones.

“Hey… sorry, did I wake you?” Y/N asked, setting down the coffee pot after she finished pouring some into one of his mugs. It was one of his favorites, a gift from her for Christmas; it was plain white, but had a quote by Charlie Chaplin on it which said ‘Life can be wonderful if you’re not afraid of it.’ The sight of it made the corners of his mouth lift a bit.

“No.” Hotch said, not technically lying since he’d only begun to close his eyes. “Can’t sleep?”

The answer was obvious, but she humored him with a response. “I tried, but uh, I don’t know…” 

Hotch nodded and made his way over to stand by her, “Would you like some company?”

Y/N looked up at him and smiled a little which he couldn’t help but mirror. “Sure, I could be up for a while though.” She said, almost challenging.

Hotch chuckled, “I’m positive you will be.”

She poured him his own cup of coffee and added just the right amount of milk and sugar she knew he liked. They made their way over to the couch and turned on the TV, switching to some drama show that neither of them have seen before.

Y/N was curled up on one end of the couch, holding the mug close to her chest. Hotch was on the other end, legs extended towards the coffee table. Episode after episode played and the two of them talked about the obliviousness of the main characters, how the murder that was central to the plot made no sense, etc.

“The father is the only one with enough time and resources to pull this off, if the police would just take a step back and look at the timeline the whole mystery would be solved.” Y/N said, enthusiastically annoyed.

“And they haven’t even tried to match the DNA from the new crime scene to the old one, they’re obviously connected.” Hotch adds, also irritated by the inaccuracies of the crime drama.

“Right! This guy’s killed like a dozen people, where is the FBI?” She asks.

“Dale Cooper was busy…” Hotch said with a small smirk.

“I think we should be consulted on these shows.” She says, now looking over at him. “They could seriously benefit from our insight.”

“I agree.” He says, enjoying the way the late hour has made Y/N more at ease. Every once in a while, Hotch would look over at the time to see how long it’s been. Currently it was 2:15 in the morning, but she didn’t seem to be affected.

“Do you want another cup?” Y/N motioned to his mug which was long since forgotten on the coffee table.

Hotch shook his head, “No, I’ll never be able to get up tomorrow if I don’t sleep soon.”

Suddenly she looked embarrassed, or maybe a little guilty. “Oh, right, I’m sorry. Go to bed, please. I think I might just stay out here for a while longer if that’s okay with you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He replies, emphasizing the statement by moving his legs up onto the couch, careful not to touch her.

Y/N huffed a bit, but didn’t say anything, just rearranged herself to be more comfortable. Hotch had grabbed a blanket from a linen closet a while ago to lay across the both of them and the warmth lulled him into closing his eyes, content by her proximity.

He could still hear her moving here and there, turning down the volume of the TV, shifting the blanket so that it covered him more than her. It made an involuntary smile pull on his lips. Still, Hotch couldn’t help but think that he was the one who was supposed to be taking care of her.

His breathing evened out and he entered a dreamless sleep, much more peaceful than the last few weeks.

-

You watched as Hotch’s chest repeatedly rose and fell as he slept. His usual stern features were softened, no furrowed brows or hard lines. You looked at his parted lips and sighed to yourself. This was such a ridiculous situation, staying with the man you’ve liked for years who’s also your boss.

The crime show had long since lost your interest and you could feel every passing second weighing down on your eyes. You did not want to sleep, but sometimes you couldn’t help it. The caffeine was wearing off and the comfort of the soft cushions along with the fuzzy blanket made your body melt, everything was perfect.

You eyes slipped closed and your thoughts became less and less coherent. Minutes ticked by and then you were out. Good things only last for so long though. 

A familiar scene was playing out in your mind in no time. You see the lamp to your right, a strangers figure coming towards you, fear was coursing through your veins, paralyzing you.

Some things were hazy, the room looked like a long hallway instead of a basement, Mazdin’s face was obscured and the only thing that you could hear was his horrible laughing. His breath was on your ear and you jerked away from him as much as you could. You yelled and screamed at him, yanking at your restraints and getting nowhere.

The faces of the other girls flashed in your mind, their open dead eyes, necks bleeding and faces mutilated. You saw yourself as one of them.

Again and again, you would feel his fist connecting to your face and blood pooling in your mouth. Tears slipped from your eyes and you shook with the pain. “Y/N… Y/N!” The man shook your shoulders, and you could see the wire in his hands. You knew your life was about to end.

“Wake up, please.” It wasn’t Mazdin’s voice, it couldn’t have been. His wasn’t so gentle. “Wake up, it’s okay I’m here.”

Your eyes eventually shot open, your breathing was ragged and you could feel cool air on your sweaty skin. Hotch was looking at you with a concerned frown, his hands were on your shoulders steadying you.

“Aaron?” You asked, still trying to regain control over your body.

“It’s alright, you’re alright, just breathe. I’m going to get you some water, stay here.” He was up and on his way to the kitchen in a second. You took the time to try and compose yourself. You sat up and wiped a hand over your face, feeling some wetness. You cleared any trace of the falling tears and wrung your hands together in your lap until Hotch returned.

When he did, he handed you a glass and told you to drink. You obeyed silently, grateful for the distraction. When you were finished, Hotch took it from you without asking and sat down by your side. He was so close, you could feel his thigh touching yours.

“I’m so sorry for waking you, I didn’t want to- I just… I’m just sorry.” You rambled a bit, not meeting his gaze.

“Don’t, Y/N. It’s fine, I’m just worried about you.” Hotch says. His hand twitches at his his knee, but then grabs yours after a moment. “Please look at me.”

His hand engulfs yours, it’s warm compared to yours which felt like an ice cube. You build the courage to look at him but not to say anything.

“Tell me about it.”

You hesitate for a bit, chewing your lip and diverting your eyes again. With a deep inhale you start to tell him. “I’ve just been having some nightmares.” Hotch doesn’t attempt to say anything, only nods. “They didn’t used to be about me, not until… well you know.”

His jaw is tense and his hand squeezes your in a reassuring way, asking you to continue. You sigh, “I mean it’s what you’d expect. I’m always down in that dark hole, alone with him. I can’t really make out his face, I just feel his hands on me…” 

Hotch is expressionless, though you think it may be intentional. He’s rigid, you think, trying to keep as still as possible. Another minute passes with neither of you speaking.

“I’ve tried to just forget about it, you know?” You say finally, looking into his eyes. “But I think that the more I try, the more I remember. I can’t stop remembering.” You say, exasperated now.

Suddenly, Hotch’s arms were surrounding you. His head rested on yours and your face was placed in the crook of his neck. You breathed him in, allowing his weight to steady you. You were usually pretty good about not crying in front of people, but the exhaustion paired with what you’d just woken up from broke down a few barriers and silent tears rolled down your face. It shook your shoulders and you gasped quietly against him.

Hotch ran his hand down through your hair to your back, allowing you to sink into him. He rubbed comforting circles with his thumb, causing all the tension in your body to dissipate, replacing it with a warmth you’ve never experienced before. At least, not like this.

Several minutes passed with the two of you like this, clutching onto each other tightly. You tried to move away once your tears dried, but Hotch lulled you back to him with sweet nothings. You gave in very easily.

Eventually your eyes became heavy again, you had no idea what time it was but you didn’t really care. And for the first time since the hospital, you entered a blissful, dreamless sleep.

-

Hotch woke up to his alarm going off in his room, which he noticed was several feet away. He had fallen asleep last night next to Y/N, arms wrapped around one another on the couch. At some point, Hotch had laid down on his back, taking the length of the couch and she had stayed on top of him, her head resting against his chest.

He felt her shift on top of him, probably having heard the alarm too. She didn’t make a move to get up, though, only nuzzled closer to him and the feel of her breath on his neck made him stiffen.

Hotch knew he had to get up, he had to get dressed and go to the office and he knew that it was extremely unprofessional to have Y/N here like this, unconsciously cuddling him in the early hours of the morning. But he also did not make a move to pull away. He would allow himself this one selfishness, just a few minutes he thought. He enjoyed the weight of her pressed to him and the way her hair fell across his arm.

Eventually Y/N’s breathing became deeper, she yawned and slowly blinked her eyes open. When she saw the position they were in, Hotch was sure she would get up immediately, probably go back to her apartment and not return. Instead, she only looked up at him and smiled.

“Good morning.” She said.

“Good morning.” Hotch had to try very hard to keep his voice even given the circumstances.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you out here all night… or fall asleep on top of you.” Y/N said, finally shifting away from him. He had to refrain from pulling her back down. She got up and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“That’s okay, I’m just glad you were able to sleep for a while.” Hotch replied, also getting up now. His alarm had stopped a minute ago, but he knew it’d go off again any second which meant he was running late.

Y/N looked over at him now, her hands in her lap twisting in the way it did when she was unsure of herself. “Thank you for that… it was the first good sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

Pride spread in Hotch’s chest at the thought, making a tired smile appear on his face. She returned it with one of her own and he thought, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss her.

Hotch’s alarm sounded again in the other room, forcing the two of them to look away from each other. Y/N got up to use the restroom and he made his way to the shower in the bathroom connected to his room. When the two of them were ready, Hotch made good on his promise to drop by her apartment and grab anything she may need. It didn’t take her long to gather everything, he assumed most of what she needed was in her previously-packed go-bag. He dropped her back off at his apartment before heading to work. 

Hotch made sure Y/N was okay to be left alone, telling her that she should make herself at home while he was gone. He hoped that wouldn’t be long. Rarely did he get what he wanted, however. When Hotch stepped into the bullpen at 8:00 am, JJ was waiting for him in his office.

“Where are we going?” He asked with a set frown.

“California,” JJ replied, handing him a manila folder. Hotch opened it and scanned the contents as she spoke. “Four women dead, all killed on the same night in separate locations, identical MO for each.”

“So we’re looking at a pack.” He said, surveying the pictures of the victims. They were shot in the back of the head, execution-style.

“Or a gang. The local P.D.’s never seen anything like this in their area, but Garcia was able to find a very similar case from a decade ago- five women, shot and killed in different locations, at the same time.”

“They’re missing a victim.” Hotch says, growing more concerned.

“And if we don’t find them soon, they could disappear for another 10 years.” JJ replied.

“Gather the team.”

-

You spent your time at Hotch’s apartment in the same way you did your own. Mostly cleaned, drank coffee, watched some shows. Your evaluation was in four days and you were looking forward to it. You figured if you cut out any unnecessary movement your ribs would heal faster and you would be cleared to go back to work. So that’s what you did for those 96 hours alone at Hotch’s place, you read some books that he had stashed in his home office, tried to cook with whatever ingredients he had in his fridge, and took naps on the couch.

Hotch gave you updates on the case that the team was working, but you didn’t work on it, you had a feeling he’d say no if you asked. You had to focus on impressing the bureau-appointed psychiatrist and passing the physical anyway. You did regular stretches and breathed deeply to test your limits and found that your pain had subsided exponentially. There were still faint marks on your sides and when you pressed them it ached, but that was still an improvement.

The day of the evaluation rolled around and you took a cab to your place so that you would be able to drive your own car to the office. You arrived at 6:00 am and it felt good to be back at what you considered to be your second home. 

“Agent L/N?” A middle-aged woman asked, peering around an open door. You were the only one in the waiting area, having got there 30 minutes early.

“Yes.” You said, standing.

“Follow me, please.”

You followed the red haired woman into her office. You read the name plaque on the door which said ‘Dr. Connor’ before you closed it behind you. She motioned for you to take a seat, then she settled behind her desk.

“I understand you went through a rather traumatic event recently.” Dr. Connor stated rather than asked, to which you only nodded. “How has your recovery been?”

“Good.” You said, trying to sound as confident as possible. “The concussion was monitored and determined to be minor, my symptoms didn’t worsen and the painkillers helped. My ribs took longer, but I can move freely now.”

“That’s excellent. Though, I would like to know about your thought process during all of this. How did you feel the night you were abducted?” The doctor asked, crossing her legs.

It took a moment to come up with a sufficient answer, “I was… scared. But I trusted my team to find me.”

Dr. Connor hummed a little, “And when they did find you?”

“Uh, relieved?” You said, unsure.

“Is that a question?” She asked.

“No. I was relieved.” You hated every second of this. If you wanted someone to pick apart every word you said and dissect your tone of voice, you’d contact your parents.

“Okay. Any signs of agitation or irritability afterwards? Have you experienced flashbacks or vivid nightmares?”

You didn’t want to get into the nightmares, but you didn’t think lying was going to get you cleared to come back. “Nightmares. But I have them handled.” You tapped on your thighs, a nervous habit.

“How so?” Her question goes unanswered by you. “Have you noticed yourself engaging in self-destructive behavior? Perhaps as a result of social isolation?”

You take a steadying breath before answering, “No.”

Dr. Connor doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Are you sure? It’s common for people who have gone through what you’ve gone through to pull away from their friends and families. Often taking on the burden of coping alone.”

“Someone is helping me.” Your chest is warm at the thought.

“That’s good,” Dr. Connor smiles. “Someone special?”

You look away from her eyes and focus on your hands, “Yes.”

“Can you describe the ways that this person has helped you through the healing process?”

Embarrassed, you fidget in your seat before answering. “They’re just there for me.” Short and sweet was probably best, you thought. “They allow me to talk about it… or not talk about it.”

“Sounds like you have a good partner.”

The way she referred to Hotch as your partner made your cheeks warm. If Dr. Connor noticed, she didn’t comment on it. “I do.”

“Just a few more questions, and then you may go to the physical portion of your eval.” You nodded in your relief. “Do you experience anxiety at the thought of returning to the field?”

“No.” The answer was firm and it made the doctor narrow her eyes.

“It’s only been three weeks since the incident. Do you feel as though you are psychologically prepared to take on everything that field work entails?”

“Yes.”

“That will be all for today, thank you Agent L/N.”

You left the office a little after 7:00 am, which gave you an hour before the physical. You thought the meeting went as well as it could have, though some of her questions definitely caught you off guard. You thought you’d prepared for everything.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you noticed one miss call from Hotch. You answered it as quick as possible, “Hey boss.”

“Hi. I assume the evaluation went well?” His voice came through rough and tired. The time in California was just past 4:00 in the morning, which means he probably hasn’t slept yet.

“It’s still going on, but I finished with the shrink at least.” You say. “How’s the case going?”

Hotch sighs and you know it’s not good, “We’ve detained one of the packs members and we’ve been interrogating him for 48 hours. So far, nothing.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could be there.”

“Me too.”

You cleared your throat and started to make your way toward the elevator, hoping to get some coffee on the first floor. “I’ll be with a training agent for a couple hours, but I’ll call later to let you know how it went.”

“Good. Don’t strain yourself.” He says, and you can imagine the hard set of his lips and the furrow of his brows.

“Yes, sir.” You hang up with a smile.

When your coffee is finished, you stretch once more in preparation. You know that you’ll have to ace the firing range in order to be cleared, which you weren’t too worried about, but the thought of running a 1.5 mile track and doing push-ups was already making you sweat.

You met up with the training agent at 8:00 at the shooting range. Agent Kline, you learned, was a star when it came to sharp-shooting. One of the best in the bureau.

“Agent L/N?” He asked with a friendly smile, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You took it and nodded, “Yes, good to meet you Agent Kline.”

“You as well,” He was handsome, you thought. Not really your type, but conventionally attractive with slicked back brunette hair and a strong jawline. “We’re gonna start with 3 yards, I know you’ve done this before but I have to go over it. You’ll draw and fire three rounds with your dominant hand. Then you’ll fire three rounds with your support hand. You’ll have six seconds.”

You have done this, many times actually. It was usually for practice and not contingent upon your return, but at least you knew what to expect.

You got through the 3 yard round, then 5 yards, 7, 15, and 25. You hit your mark each time with the appropriate time allowed. Kline let out a low whistle, “Very nice.”

It made you smile with pride. This place always reminded you of time spent with Reid, spending hours and hours shooting at the paper targets. He’d insist that you didn’t need to stay with him and you would ignore him completely. You would attend his evals and grin as he passed, giving him a big hug.

“Now get changed, it’s time to hit the field.” Kline says, loading up the firearms and walking out.

You bring your bag with you to the locker room and switch from your professional clothing to a tank top and sweats that both had the FBI logo on them. It was mid-summer and very hot, you knew you were about to be sweating.

“You’re going to complete the 300-meter sprint first, just to get it out of the way.” Kline winks at you. “You’ll be timed, but don’t worry too much about it, it’s mostly to see if you can stay on your feet.”

You nod, preparing yourself. The aching in your side flared up a little bit during the shooting range, but you took a painkiller in the locker room and were just waiting for it to kick in.

After the sprint came the one-minute sit-ups, which you got to 35 before the timer went off. After that was push-ups, untimed, you got to 10 before the burning in your side was doubled. You hoped your face didn’t betray what you were feeling in that moment.

“Last, but not least, your starting point for the run will be here,” Kline walked you over to the white line on the red track. “It’s one and a half miles, you’ll be timed. Honestly all I’m looking for is that you’re able to keep pace and not slow down, got it?”

You nod, and wipe the sweat that’s dripping off your forehead. The sound goes off, indicating your start. You take off with your feet pounding the track. You remember how to keep your breathing under control, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It becomes increasingly more difficult as time goes on, pain is shooting in your ribs and your heart beat is fast.

Twenty minutes pass before you finish, your hands are on your knees and you’re breathing heavily. You’re drenched in sweat and instantly take the water bottle that Agent Kline offers you.

“You did very well.” He says kindly. “I’ll be sending over my report to your Section and Unit Chiefs by tomorrow.”

That makes you straighten up, “Really?” You’re still panting.

Kline grins at you, “Not a lot of people could push through like that. I could tell you weren’t feeling good after those push-ups.”

You nodded and gulped down some more water. “I’m feeling better now.”

-

Hotch and the rest of the team were exhausted. They had managed to exploit one of the unsub’s weakness for another and detained two more suspects. Him, Morgan, and Prentiss took point on the separate interrogations. This case was taking longer than most and Hotch was stressed.

He spoke to Jack a few times on the phone, using any break he got to send him messages that he loved him and would see him soon. All he wanted to do now was call Y/N and check in on her, but he couldn’t take another break. Each man was more closed off than the last, refusing to speak without a lawyer present.

On their fifth day in Sacramento, they finally caught a break. One of the unsubs unintentionally revealed their headquarters, which led to a SWAT operation taking place and the detainment of the last two unsubs. They were able to save one girl in the nick of time, though with cases like these, it never felt like enough.

As the team headed back to the hotel, Hotch took the opportunity to call Y/N. His hand gripped the steering wheel as he waited for her to pick up, she eventually did on the fifth ring, “Hey Boss.”

She sounded tired, the time displayed 11:00 pm for him, it must’ve been 2:00 am back home. Suddenly he felt guilty, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, I’m- I wasn’t sleeping.” Y/N’s gruff voice betrayed her though, usually when he called she’d pick up immediately and she would sound wide awake. 

He decided to let it go in lieu of arguing, “The team’s headed back in the morning… how was the physical?”

“Good, yeah it was good.” Y/N said, stopping mid sentence to yawn. The corners of his mouth turned up and he ached to be next to her in this moment. “I think I may be cleared to come back, but we’ll find out tomorrow.”

Hotch was happy that she would be returning, but also anxious. He knew he’d be worried about her every time she was in the field from now on and that it would distract him from being an effective team leader. That wasn’t her fault, of course, but it was a concern nonetheless. Not to mention he only got to enjoy one day of her being with him in his home, and now that she was possibly coming back, it meant she’d most likely be returning to her own apartment. 

“How’s the pain?” Hotch asked. He listened as Y/N hesitated on the other end.

“It’s subsiding, overall.” She said, evading the actual question.

“What’s it at right now?”

She sighed as if she’d been caught in a lie, “5.”

“Last I’d checked it was a 2.”

“Yeah, well tell that to Agent Kline.” She laughed a breathy laugh.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed on the road, “Agent Kline was your training agent?”

“Uh, yeah. You know him?” Y/N asked.

“Briefly.” Hotch didn’t like the guy but he hadn’t disliked him either. Not until now, anyway. “Did he push you too hard?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t want to give him a reason to reject my return.”

“Y/N, you promised you wouldn’t strain yourself.” Hotch’s hand was tighter around the wheel now.

“And I didn’t. Flare ups are inevitable, you know.”

Hotch pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying something that would cause an argument between them. “I know. I’ll be back by 12:00 tomorrow, can you meet me at the office?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

-

You were giddy with excitement the next morning, you took maybe 20 minutes getting ready before you were out the door and headed to the BAU. You knew that the team wasn’t going to be back until the afternoon, but you didn’t care. You had gotten a notification from Section Chief Strauss that your evaluation report had come back and to meet her in her office at 9:00 am.

When you arrived, you knocked on her door. “Come in.” You walked inside and said your hellos. “Agent L/N, it’s good to see you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Strauss was sitting behind her desk, hands crossed in front of her. “I wanted to go over a few things from your report.”

You were nervous about which sections she was referring to, but you kept your face neutral and sat still.

“The nightmares you mentioned, how long have they been occurring?” She asks, though you don’t think she’s asking out of concern for your well-being.

“A while.”

Strauss sighs, “L/N I would like to help you, but I need a straightforward answer.”

“I don’t have a specific date. They started before the Mazdin incident.”

She nodded in response. “And now?”

“They’ve decreased.” You stare at each other for a moment in silence.

“Truth be told, I would like to clear you as soon as possible so as to not worry about the team being down a member. I just need the director to be convinced that you’re not a liability.”

“A liability?” You asked, a little offended. “With all due respect, Chief Strauss, I have made good progress in the last month. I’m not depressed, no increased aggression, physically, I’ve improved as well. If you ask Agent Kline-“

“I did speak to Kline, he mentioned you were in pain during the assessment.”

Your mouth snapped closed while you inhaled a breath through your nose, “And yet, I passed the eval, did I not?”

It takes a minute for Strauss to respond, “You did. Welcome back, Agent L/N.” She extends her hand as she stands up and you reach out to meet her.

You nod, appreciative. “Thank you.”

Afterwards, you made your way down to Penelope’s office. You knocked only twice before she opened, “Y/N!!” She reached out to you for a bear hug which you obliged, squeezing her back just as tightly.

“Hey, Garcia. Good to see you too.” You laughed, trying to breathe again.

“Oh my gosh, look at you! You look amazing!” She took a step back to take all of you in. Suddenly she gasped, “If you’re here, now- does that mean you’re back? Like, back back?”

“Back back.” You say happily.

“Oh thank the stars in the heavens above, cause God knows I love the boys but we seriously needed more of a female presence in the office.”

“What, JJ and Prentiss not enough for you?” You prodded lightly.

“No no no, they’re great, just outnumbered.” She said in a conspiratorial voice, “With you here, it’s even.”

“Ah, understood. Well I’m happy to be of service, do you need help with anything down here? I’m dying for something to do.”

Penelope turns around and swipes up a pile of folders on her desk, eagerly handing them to you, “Well if you insist, there’s a bunch of clerical work I’d rather not touch.”

You laugh and hold the papers in your arms, “I’ll take these to my desk.” You start to turn around but stop yourself, “Oh, and thank you Garcia. It’s really good to see you.”

She smiles her infectious smile at you and shoos you off, but not before adding one last file to the stack.

The time flew by as you read up on the recent cases that the BAU had consulted on. You went over the files, made your notes and even organized your desk. By the time everyone started making their way inside the bullpen, you hadn’t noticed it was already past noon.

Reid and JJ were talking to each other about some book. Well, Reid was talking to JJ, she was trying to make it look like she was listening. Morgan wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but you came to expect his first stop would always be Garcia. That left Prentiss, Rossi and Hotch, who all walked in looking dead on their feet.

Reid noticed you first, since his desk was right next to yours, “Y/N, you’re back!” He said happily.

It made you smile as he took his seat, never one for a hug. “Hey, how’re you doing? I missed you guys.”

“We missed you too,” JJ said, making her way over to you to give you a hug hello. You returned it gladly.

“So everything turned out alright in Sacramento?” You asked no one in particular.

“Alright is relative.” Prentiss said, also making her way over to you to greet you. 

“Isn’t it always.” Rossi adds.

Hotch makes eye contact with you finally and you release the air that was being held in your lungs involuntary. “L/N, my office please.” He says, ever the professional at work.

You nod simply and follow after him. You can hear the low murmurs of the team down in the bullpen as you make your way up the stairs and into Hotch’s office.

“Close the door, please.” His voice is commanding, but gentle and you do as you’re told.

“How’re you doing?” You ask Hotch as he moves about his work space, setting down the bag in his hand and shuffling paperwork. He stops at the sound of your voice.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” He says, shoulders tense and arms crossed. You couldn’t quite tell if he was upset at you or something else.

You attempt to keep the conversation light by saying, “I asked you first.” 

Hotch lets out a sigh and rubs at his forehead. “I’m fine. The case is over, I’ve excused the team for the rest of today and tomorrow. I think they all deserve it.”

“So do you.” You say quietly.

His eyes meet yours and there’s something soft in them. It takes a moment for him to speak again, “You didn’t answer my question.”

You smile at him, “I’m good. Better now that you’re- the teams back.”

Hotch nods, then removes his jacket before hanging it on the backside of his chair. You try very hard not to stare at him. This wasn’t like the hospital or his apartment, you were at work.

But then he’s in your space, only a foot away. “The evaluation came back, I assume Strauss informed you that you passed.”

“With flying colors,” You bragged jokingly.

“She stopped to talk with me as I was walking in, handed me the Eval papers… I had a chance to go over it briefly.”

You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but the nerves in your stomach were building by the second. Hotch then started to read off the transcript of your conversation with Dr. Connor, and you felt all the heat in your body rushing to your face as he spoke. 

“‘Someone is helping me.’ ‘That’s good, someone special?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Can you describe the ways that this person has helped you through the healing process?’ ‘They’re just there for me. They allow me to talk about it… or not talk about it.’ ‘Sounds like you have a good partner.’ ‘I do.’” He stops for a second to look up at you from the papers in his hands and gives you a smirk, "Well, I’m very flattered.”

You thought you could and should die right there, but as you took a step away from him, he reaches out to stop you. His large hand wraps around your arm and keeps you in place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want- she assumed that I was in a relationship and I didn’t correct her cause I think it helped to-“

“It’s fine, Y/N, I’m not mad at you.” Hotch cuts off your rambling with his calm voice. His smirk from earlier has melted into a relaxed smile. “It’s not my business what you discuss with your psychiatrist, my only concern is your well-being.”

You nod at him, relieved that he wasn’t angry about your lie by omission. “I’m just really, really glad to be back.” You say with a soft sigh.

“Me too.” Hotch releases your arm but stays close to you. “Have you thought about… well you’re more than welcome to stay with me until you’re feeling 100% better, but if you would like me to take you back home I understand.” He says a little rushed, as if he were trying to get it out as quickly as possible.

You’d thought about that, what would happen once you did return to the field. You’re assumption was that Hotch would pack your things and send you on your way as soon as your Eval was completed and you were cleared to come back. But since that didn’t seem to be the case, you mulled over his suggestion in your head.

“I’m close to 100… maybe 90?” You said, hoping he understood what you meant. Hotch seemed to get it, nodding with upturned lips.

“Then we should decide on what to get for dinner tonight.” He said, seemingly relieved.

The thought made your whole body relax, warmed at the idea that he might like having you around. “I vote Mexican.”

“Mm, sounds good to me.”

The two of you haven’t moved away, and the proximity was making your heart beat loudly again. It baffles you sometimes, the effect that this man has on you. It’s been the same since the first day you met and hasn’t waned even once over the years.

Hotch was looking at you in a way you’d never seen from him before. Like he was deep in thought, but not about a case. He held your gaze without a word, though he started to move closer slowly. You looked up at him and shifted nervously where you stood, working your bottom lip between your teeth. Hotch’s hand reached up to pull at your lip until it was free, his thumb grazing it and making you swallow.

Then his hand slipped from your face to the back of your neck, caressing it but also holding it in place. You couldn’t think, you could only feel the warmth of his breath ghosting your lips. He hovered for a moment as he moved his gaze from your lips to your eyes as if asking for permission. You relaxed against him and your hand found his free one. The contact must’ve given him some courage because in the next second his lips covered yours.

It started off soft and sweet, both of you unsure of how the other liked to be kissed. Hotch’s hand tightened just slightly in your hair and you moaned a little into his mouth in response. The sound seemed to spur him on, the kiss becoming progressively more intense. 

Hotch walked with you, pushing you backwards more and more until your back hit a wall. The impact made you separate from him for a moment, the two of you panting, staring at one another. His eyes raked over you, the hand that used to be in your hair trailed down to your neck, then shoulder, down your arm, until it gripped your waist. Heat built in your stomach from the action.

“Aaron.” You gasped as his knee slid between both your legs and your eyes slipped closed. The sound of his name made him focus back on your mouth, his tongue swiping at your lips and you eagerly parted for him.

You shuddered under his touch. “Say my name again,” Hotch said between kisses. His mouth made a trail down from your lips to your jaw, his left hand kept your head tilted upwards to give him easy access to your neck.

“Aaron…” His name was breathy on your lips and you couldn’t think of a single other word. He sucked on the base of your neck and you were sure there would be marks there later, but it didn’t matter.

“I need you,” Hotch said breathlessly. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you.” His breath ghosted over your bare skin and made you shiver.

“I need you too.”

[darkomoth]

Insomniacs

Chapter 2: Birthday Dinner

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: Pending a full evaluation, you're stuck at home while you heal from your injuries. Hotch is worried and Reid's birthday is around the corner.

Notes: This is sort of a slow burn I guess. Slightly shorter chapter, hope you enjoy! :)

Also uploaded on Ao3 under the same title

Word count: 6.7K

Ch. 1 Ch.3

You were cleared to fly back home but had to spend a little over a week in the hospital while you recovered. They told you that you had a mild concussion, three bruised ribs, and a broken nose. So, ultimately, not as bad as it could have been. 

Still, it didn’t feel awesome. Of course, the doctor recommended that you stay in the hospital for observation for at least 3 weeks, but the sheer thought of being bed-ridden for that long made you pick at your nails. The monotonous hum of the machines and the low volume of the tv combined with the chilly hospital air put you severely on edge. Honestly, they were lucky you made it as long as you did. 

Everyone came to visit you at one point or another, which made you very happy. Penelope had gathered a basket-full of goodies for you which consisted of a teddy bear, many chocolates/candies, a coloring book that was obviously made for children, and three balloons which said, “It’s a Girl!” in pretty pink cursive. 

“They didn’t have any “I’m sorry you were kidnapped and tortured” balloons at CVS...” Garcia had said with a pout. They were appreciated, you assured her.

Spencer had reserved time to read to you, stating that he always felt better when his mom did the same for him as a kid. You’d drift off to the sound of the young doctor's voice who recited line after line from “The Wizard of Oz,” which he knew you loved. 

Derek came by a couple times to drop off food and watch a few episodes of whatever shitty soap opera happened to be on at the time. Somehow, they seemed better quality when he was there. His easy conversation made you relax in the stiff hospital bed and often you found yourself laughing a little too hard, straining your sides and reminding yourself of why you were here to begin with. 

JJ and Emily often visited together, since they were carpooling. They brought personal hygiene items from your apartment and flowers, talked about work and how the team was. “Oh, we’re falling apart without you, for sure.” JJ stated once. It made you smile, though you knew everyone was getting on just fine. 

Rossi wasn’t super talkative, but you were used to that. His company was welcome in the late hours when the ticking clock made you want to rip your hair out. He cooked some really good pasta, but you suspected it may have been take-out. Rossi denied it completely. 

Hotch was there more than anyone else, however. You could hear him pacing outside your door some nights, like he was debating on whether to come in. He always did after knocking gently on your door, which you eagerly answered.  

He’d sit by your side and ask how you were feeling, and you would answer the same way every time with a smile, “Like a million bucks.” It made him scoff and shake his head a little, though you knew he found it a little funny. After several minutes of small talk, his hand would search for yours and you would accept it with a small smile. Hotch wasn’t accustomed to doing nothing either, so he’d fidget. He’d check on your vitals, request an extra blanket, crack open the window for fresh air, or pace whenever you did succumb to sleep. 

Your request to go home was granted, but not to return to work. That would take at least another two weeks. Hotch thought even that was pushing it, though.  

“I’m seriously fine, Hotch. See, look,” You said, crumbling some trash into a ball so that you could toss it into a nearby trash can. You got it in one shot. “Look at that coordination,” You laughed, nudging his side softly. 

Hotch only stared at you, seemingly unamused. “That is not a good measurement of capability.”  

The two of you were walking out of the hospital, and you felt a heaviness lift off your shoulders as you passed though the automatic sliding doors. Finally, you were back to the real world. JJ and Emily brought you your own clothes which made you feel like yourself again and not some lab rat. The sun was warm on your skin, and you took a deep breath the moment you were outside. It made you forget about how you must’ve looked still, with a black eye and purple bruises littered across your cheek and neck.

The team had another case already, but Hotch stated he would be catching up with everyone as soon as he made sure that you got home safe. That set off a feeling of butterflies in your stomach which you tried to push away. That was genuinely the last thing you should be thinking about right now.  

“Well, what is a good measurement?” You ask, turning towards him and looking up into his eyes. They were already trained on you, stoic and resolute as always. 

“Your evaluation is scheduled in 12 days from now.” He says, impassively. 

You don’t try to stop the groan that escapes you, “That’s so long.” The two of you make it to Hotch’s car, he opens the passenger side door for you and holds onto your upper arm to help you inside, it sends a pleasant chill up your arm. You wince in pain as you change from an upright position to sitting, and Hotch notices. 

“Are you alright?” He hovers next to you as you reach for the seatbelt. Your ribs were actually on fire, but you nodded in response, not trusting your voice at the moment. Hotch looks at you skeptically for a second, hands twitching at his sides, before closing the door and making his way to the driver's seat. 

He looked good, you thought. Hotch was in his usual suit, but no jacket or tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and you tried not to let your eyes linger for too long. Halfway through the drive, he speaks again. “You should’ve stayed at the hospital.” 

You look over at him again, his eyes are fixed on the road and his face neutral, but his hand grips the steering wheel tightly. “I couldn’t take another minute of that place.” You say, a little bitterly. 

Hotch glances at you but turns his attention back to driving. “I know... still.” He sighs like he’s resigned to the fact that you’re very stubborn and almost always get your way in the end. “How’s the pain?” 

Over the past week, Hotch has checked in on your pain level. He’d ask where you were from 1-10; 1 meant almost no pain, 10 meant it was unbearable. Typically, you’d say 3/4, maybe 5 on a bad day, but if you were being honest, 4 meant 6 and 5 meant 9. If Hotch noticed that you were lying, he didn’t say anything. 

“Mm, 5.” You mumbled in response. 

He only nodded, making sure to keep his eyes forward. A few seconds pass, as if he’s debating if he should speak again. Eventually he does. “Are you sure?” His voice is tentative and soft now, “You’ve been controlling your breathing and clutching your side.”

You release your side in response and take a deep breath as if to prove a point, “I’m sure.”

Hotch doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive. When he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he prevents you from opening your door. “Stop, I’ll get it.”

“Hotch, you really don’t need to-“ You were cut off by the sound of the driver side door shutting closed. When he makes his way around to the passenger side, you were looking at him disapprovingly. “I can open a door.” You mutter as he opens it and offers a hand.

“I’m certain you can.” Is all he says in response, not budging from his spot. With a small sigh and a suppressed smile, you take his hand and hop out of your seat.

You notice how close Hotch is to you, the way he’s put himself between you and the rest of the lot. It’s intimate in a strange way, his hand is still in yours even though you were fully stable now. Your heartbeat quickens in the way that it does when he’s near and you fidget.

Hotch probably noticed your behavior because he lets you go immediately, turning towards the trunk of the car that has your go-bag. He grabs it and starts walking with you to your door. You want to protest again, tell him that you were okay and capable of doing normal, everyday things like carrying your bag, but you decide against it. You know that nothing you say is going to change Hotch’s mind so you allow yourself the moment to enjoy his company. 

“I can handle it from here.” You say once you open your door and step inside. The apartment was fairly empty, save for the sparse furniture and fake plants that sat on your windowsills. As you move to grab your bag from Hotch, a sharp sting shoots up your right side and makes you still. “Ahhh,” You hiss in pain. 

“Y/N?” Hotch asks worriedly, holding his hands out for you to grab onto if you needed. “Are you alright?”

With your hands clutching onto him, you take a second to regain stability and test your breathing, “Mhm… sorry.” You let him go and decide to lean against the island counter in your kitchen instead, but he continues to hover. “It comes and goes.”

“Where’s the painkillers the hospital provided?” Hotch asks, setting down your bag on the counter next to you and rummaging through the side zippers. You don’t have a chance to respond before he finds them. “Here,” He says, as he drops two pills into his hand, “hold onto these, I’ll get some water.”

He hands them to you, and the warmth of his hand is comforting. You hold them and watch as he moves freely around your kitchen, searching for your glassware. It was strange, but not unpleasant, to see your boss inside your home moving around like he’s been here a hundred times. Almost domestic. You shook the thought from your head and took a seat in one of the barstools. Shortly after, Hotch slides over a glass of water across from you.

“Thanks.” You say and down the pills with a gulp of water.

Hotch is looking at you with an unreadable expression, it makes you shift in your seat and take a few more sips of water to distract yourself.

“You need rest and plenty of water…” Hotch trails off, like he wants to say more but doesn’t. Then, like he can’t take it anymore, he moves around the counter to be next to you. “I’m sorry.”

He’s so close again, even taller than usual since you’re sitting. You have to crane your neck to look up at him, his expression has softened from earlier. Confused by what he said you replied, “What are you sorry for?”

Hotch sighs a little, his jaw is tense. “I shouldn’t have sent you away.”

You didn’t know what to say at first, struck by the way he was acting. It was very unlike himself to display any sort of unprofessional behavior, and this was definitely not professional. You furrow your brows and hesitantly reach out to place your hand on his.

“You were doing your job. I shouldn’t have gone to the park, I knew the risks and did it anyway.” You say, trying your best to keep your beating heart under control at Hotch’s proximity.

He looked just past you, not meeting your eyes and shook his head, “I was worried I may never see you again.” Hotch seemed genuinely distraught at his own words, it made your gut twist in an unpleasant way.

“Hotch… Aaron.” The sound of his first name finally made him meet your eyes. You smiled up at him, “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”

It felt tense in the room now, you were used to the team being all together, interrupting moments like these and pulling you back down to reality. But now it was just you and Hotch, and he wasn’t pulling away.

“I-“ Hotch starts, but a loud ringing cuts him off. He closes his eyes for a moment, obviously upset at the interruption, but he answers anyway. “Hotchner.” He pulls back and paces a few feet away from you.

You know that whatever was being said, it wasn’t good and by the look on Hotch’s face and the furrow of his brows, it was probably minutes before he’d be out the door. When he hung up, he looked over at you sympathetically. 

“Go on, boss. I’m good.” You say, trying to ease the stress that was evident in his frown.

Hotch’s hands twitch at his sides again and you make a mental note of it. He tends to do that when he’s considering his next move. Ultimately, he nods and strides to your front door, pausing when his hand lands on the doorknob.

“We’ll be in Pennsylvania. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.” Hotch says, regretfully.

“Can I call even if I don’t need anything?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He gives you one of his rare smiles, “Yes, Agent.”

-

Hotch left Y/N’s apartment with a mix of emotions. He wasn’t sure if she was truly alright. Mentally, maybe, the events with Mazdin didn’t seem to wreck her emotional state, she still joked and smiled at him which was a good sign. Physically, though, was another story. 

One of her tells that Hotch caught early on when she were hired was deflection. He’d ask if she was okay, she'd ask if he was. If she answered, it was quick, as if she were afraid to elaborate too much and make herself seem suspicious. He knew that she was in pain and afraid to show it in case it affected her return to the BAU.

Y/N’s fear was unwarranted, though. Hotch was counting down the days of her return despite knowing she needed time to heal. It was difficult to leave after having spent the last week checking in on her, keeping her company.

One day when he paced outside her hospital door, unable to stay still, Y/N called out his name. “Hotch, just come in, you’re stressing me out. And I need help changing the channel.” Her voice was still strained but he could tell she was smiling. It calmed his worries about intruding on her, and from that point on he didn’t linger outside as much. 

It was still difficult to see her covered in bruises and looking at him like he was the only person she wanted to see. Her black eye was getting better, the swelling had gone down considerably, but she had a dark ring underneath that was an ever-present reminder of what happened. The lines on her neck were barely starting to fade, still an angry-red color, and the bandages surrounding her torso hid the damage beneath, but Hotch knew that bruised ribs were serious injuries. Any time he thought about it, he felt a little sick.

After everything that he’s seen in the BAU, nothing compares to having a teammate go through something that traumatic. Regardless, Hotch knew that she was recovering. Even if it wasn’t at the hospital with trained professionals, he thought bitterly.

His phone rang again as he was driving towards the office, “Hotchner.”

“I had a thought.” Y/N’s voice rang out from his speaker and his frown softened a little.

“Yes?”

“I may not be able to be in the field, but if you send me the case files I can work on it from here.”

Hotch should’ve expected that one. With a shake of his head he responds, “You need to focus on getting better, not causing yourself stress.”

“No, you don’t get it. If I’m left alone with literally nothing to do for longer than 30 minutes, I’ll lose it.” Her voice was coming out rushed, he could tell she was either pacing or tapping her fingers nervously. The image made the corners of his mouth turn up a little.

A few seconds passed with silence, Hotch debating what the best thing to do was in this situation. “If you promise to take care of yourself… I’ll have Garcia send over the paperwork within the hour.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Y/N said excitedly. “Oh- also, I wanted to remind you of Reid’s birthday, it’s Friday.”

Hotch laughs at that, “Yes, I did actually remember.”

“Okay great, because I was thinking the team could get together that day and celebrate. Either at the bar or maybe Rossi’s since it’s bigger…” Y/N says, sounding like she’s just thinking out loud.

“I’ll discuss it with everyone, though you really shouldn’t be leaving your home-“

“Yeah, yeah I know but you only turn 29 once and I want to see Reid’s face when I give him his “Happy 30th Birthday” card.” She replies.

Hotch tries his best not to laugh and give her the satisfaction. “Well, in that case. I’ll get back to you about it.”

“Thanks Hotch.”

-

The week actually flies by, to your pleasant surprise. You were often sat on your couch, eating some type of take-out and going over victimology of the team’s case in Lancaster, PA. The unsub was a family annihilator, targeting middle-class families and spending extra time torturing the fathers.

Without being there, you were limited to your access of information, but frequent calls to and from Garcia kept you in the loop. Ultimately, you suggested to the team that the unsub was a father himself and most likely had his children taken away from him at some point.

Of course, you were trying to keep your promise to Hotch and taking care of yourself. That mostly meant drinking at least two cups of water a day and trying your best to fall asleep once the clock read 12:00 am. That second one didn’t work out as well.

Hotch knew that you weren’t sleeping again, given the times you had called him. Since there was no time change between Virginia and Pennsylvania, it was obvious that your insomnia had crept back.

A particular call one night left a bad feeling in your stomach. It was past 1:00 am already, but you knew Hotch would still be up, working. You were proven correct when he answered on the second ring, “Hotchner.”

“I was looking over the night that the Clarkson family was murdered and I noticed something off with the children’s position in the house-“

Hotch cut you off before you could finish, “Agent L/N, you need to go to sleep. Now.” His voice was curt and a little angry, you thought.

“Hotch, I will, but listen to me-“

“No. I’ve allowed you to work remotely under the assumption that you would be prioritizing your health. Now that I know that is not your intention, I’m relieving you of this case.”

For a moment, you were speechless. You winced from the pain in your ribs as you shifted your position at the dining table. “Hotch, I am prioritizing and I have been sleeping, it’s just later in the night.” 

“I will not allow you to continuously jeopardize yourself, if need be I can and will suspend you.” His voice was monotone as always, but you sensed irritation in it. 

“Fine.” Was all you said in response, quickly ending the call and slamming your phone down onto the table in front of you. You can’t remember the last time you were this angry at Hotch. Even though it came from a place of concern, he had no idea how much worse it was for you when you had nothing to preoccupy yourself with.

The nightmares returned very soon after the Mazdin incident. In fact, they were even worse. Before, the dreams would consist of you and the team on a typical case, trying to find an unsub before the clock runs out. You would see image after image of decapitated bodies, mutilated corpses, the faces of missing children. Every time it shook you so badly, you’d wake up in a cold sweat, involuntary tears in your eyes.

After your own kidnapping, you’d dream of that basement. How this must’ve been how all those other girls had felt, terrified that they would never see sunlight again, never hug those closest to them, never have the luxury of another boring day. You’d experience the pain of that night over and over and over again. The feel of the strangers fist connecting to your stomach, face, and ribs was so real, you could practically smell the musty air and taste the blood in your mouth. 

When you were in the hospital, hopped up on painkillers and connected to an IV, you had dreamless sleeps. They felt like temporary comas and you were aching to feel that again. You could feel Hotch next to you, holding your hand and talking but you never made out what was actually being said. It was perfect.

Now, back inside your own apartment alone yet again, not even a case to distract you, the thought of sleep petrified you. You made yourself coffee, did laundry, washed dishes, even cleaned out your closet at one point. Nothing could stop the inevitability of you closing your eyes and being transported back to that night.

You were told by Garcia that the team had caught the unsub just before he was able to take out the Williams family and they were flying back Thursday night. You were glad that everyone was safe and on their way home, but it hurt that you didn’t feel like you could even talk with Hotch now.

You wanted to call and check in on him since you knew how hard he took family annihilator cases. Still, you didn’t reach for your phone. You would be seeing them all tomorrow, anyways. It was decided by Reid that Rossi’s place would be better than any public outing, so the team had made a plan to meet there at 6:00 pm Friday night.

Throughout the year, you tended to buy things for the team. Small gifts, anything that stuck out to you that someone may like, and you kept them for birthdays and holidays. So when you came across a dusty antique bookstore during one of your cases in New York several months ago, you knew you had to look around. You found the most incredibly bound and gorgeous hardback copy of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ by Oscar Wilde and just knew it’d make a great gift for boy-genius.

You also happened upon an old collection of classic vinyl records, with dozens of artists varying from Frank Sinatra to Harry Belafonte and you had to get it. Not for you, but you knew one very serious Unit Chief that loved oldies.

-

By the time that Friday morning rolled around, Hotch hadn’t spoken to Y/N in over 48 hours. It put him a little on edge, he was too used to seeing her every day, hearing her voice asking how he was. He knew it was his fault for snapping at her the way he did, but he couldn’t take another night of worrying about her. He had enough to deal with already.

She had called him at least twice a day every day that they were in Pennsylvania, offering some of her insight. It was welcome most of the time, especially after they’d hit a wall in their investigation. Y/N not being on the scene allowed for a unique outside perspective. But Hotch wasn’t going to allow her to compromise her health for the job.

He debated calling her several times and it just never happened. Either he would get busy or he’d rationalize that she didn’t want to hear from him, but they were all excuses. So he decided to bite the bullet and dial her number when he finally settled into his office that morning.

“L/N.” Was all she said when she finally picked up. Usually, when she noticed it was Hotch calling, she would answer the phone with a “Hey Boss” or some variation of it. The change made him look down at his desk with a frown.

“Hey…” Hotch said, completely forgetting the reason he had come up with for calling so early. “I wanted to check in with you, see how you were… will you be coming to Rossi’s tonight?” He scolds himself internally for sounding so unsure of himself.

“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.” She said as if it were obvious. He supposed it was, seeing as the get-together was her suggestion. “Was there anything else?” She asked after a minute.

Hotch wanted to ask what her pain level was, if she had actually slept since the last time they spoke, and quite a few other things, but instead he shook his head a little, “No. We’ll see you there.” He hung up quickly after that, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Several hours of paperwork later and Hotch was finally leaving for the day. He arrived at Rossi’s mansion at 5:50 pm, noticing that he was not the first. Morgan and Prentiss’ cars were both there, and he was relieved that Y/N hadn’t shown up just yet. He was still trying to figure out what he was going to say to her.

As he rung the doorbell, he could hear talking and laughing inside. “Answer that, would you?” Rossi’s voice could be heard echoing from the kitchen. A couple seconds later he heard footsteps and then Y/N was there, holding the door open.

She was stunning. Her usual work clothes were nice and complemented her, but Hotch had never seen her like this. She wore a mid-length, off the shoulder gown with long sleeves, it was black with a lace trim. Her makeup was done but it wasn’t a lot, he suspected it was to cover up the remaining discoloration from that night. Her hair was done in a different way that he’d never seen before, and she was so gorgeous.

It took a moment before Hotch could speak, “I brought wine.” He holds the bottle out to her and she takes it with a small smile and nod. As she walks away with it towards the kitchen and he follows, he thinks about what the hell was wrong with him. 

“Ahh, Aaron, this is perfect.” Rossi says as Y/N hands him the bottle of red. “Why don’t you all take a seat, the rest of the team is on their way and the food will be ready shortly.”

Morgan and Prentiss were hovering around the island counter, also dressed up in less than casual outfits.

“What’s up man?” Morgan asks as he makes his way over to Hotch, “Didn’t you bring a gift for wonder boy?”

“Spencer’s gift is all of the paperwork he does not have to do for the next three days.” He responds, shrugging off his blazer.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Prentiss says, “does that extend to the rest of the team?”

“What you guys get is his workload.” Hotch says with a growing smile.

A collective groan is heard as everyone takes their seats. Y/N is still in the kitchen, helping Rossi with kneading some type of dough. He tries not to glance over too often, but it’s hard not to. She’s laughing at something Rossi’s said and the smile on her face is infectious. 

Hotch notices how she’s still favoring her right side, moving only when she has to. Her breathing is controlled and her posture is purposefully casual. She’s certainly gotten better since the last time he’s seen her, but she’s not fully healed and he resists the urge to go speak to her about it.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Emily asks.

Y/N responds before Rossi can, “Burrata Caprese Gnocchi with balsamic bruschetta and garlic bread.” She shares a look with Rossi who smiles at her.

“Sounds amazing.” Emily says just as the doorbell rings.

JJ, Penelope, and Reid were all at the door, which Hotch answered this time, beating Y/N to it. 

“There’s the birthday boy!” Derek said, getting up to give Spencer a hug.

“I really don’t think the word ‘boy’ accurately describes my age anymore.” He replies, returning the hug a little hesitantly. 

“Ah, come on Spence, you’re still the second youngest agent in the team.” JJ says, pointedly looking at Y/N from where she still stood in the kitchen.

“Hey, I am not much younger than him.” She says defensively. Hotch smiles at the interaction.

“Well, regardless,” Penelope cuts in, taking Reid’s arm in hers, “you are still the residing genius of the BAU, myself excluded.”

“Well, thank you very much.” Hotch hears Spencer mutter as he’s dragged along to the dining room with everyone else.

Rossi commanded that everyone help set the table as the last bit of dinner was being prepared. Y/N was moving around seemingly effortlessly, stirring something in a pot and then pulling bread out of the oven. Hotch thought she looked very graceful, until she must’ve turned the wrong way and she stilled completely.

Y/N clutched the edge of the counter like she had back at her apartment last week and Hotch stopped passing plates around. He watched as she excused herself to the restroom and after a second of deliberating, he followed.

The light underneath the bathroom door was on and Hotch knocked on it lightly, “Y/N?” There was no response for a minute. “Hey, are you okay? Please open the door.”

Another few seconds went by with no sound and he was thinking maybe he should just go back to the dining room when the door unlocked and swung open a fraction. Hotch took that as an invitation to open it fully and walk in.

Y/N was leaning against the bathroom sink, hand on her side and eyes closed. “What do you need?” He asks, hands clenching at his sides, not sure if he should reach out and touch her.

“Um…” Her breath shakes slightly, “If you could, my bag has my medication, I left it out there.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” It took Hotch less than a minute to go out into the living area, find her bag with the painkillers and bring them back to the bathroom. He knocks twice before entering, “Here.”

“Thank you.” Y/N says, taking them with a mouthful of tap water.

“How’s the pain?” It’s a long shot that she’ll even continue speaking to him, but Hotch doesn’t feel like leaving her alone like this.

“Uh, a 6.” She looks at him finally, and his frown deepens. She’s never actually gone past 5, and he knew 5 was bad. “It’s okay, really, I think I just strained my side while cooking.”

Hotch nods, but he doesn’t feel reassured. “Well, I’ll help you to the table, and please don’t move again unless you have to.” He thinks that she wants to argue but that would take energy she doesn’t have, so she allows him to wrap an arm around her waist. She leans against him and he inhales her scent, it’s warm and sweet, like cinnamon he thinks.

If anyone noticed the way the two of them walked out together, no one said anything. The team wasn’t oblivious, they knew Y/N was in pain as well, and that she wouldn’t want to speak about it. Especially tonight when it was about celebrating a fellow teammate.

Hotch set her down in a seat directly next to him, his hand lingering where it had been a moment before. Rossi was passing around the main course and the conversation had been redirected to Spencer’s weekend plans.

“I’ll be in Vegas for the next couple days. I’ve been meaning to visit my mom but haven’t really had the time.” He says as he grabs two pieces of garlic bread.

“That’s nice.” Emily says, taking a sip of her wine. “I would rather be working than visit my mother on my birthday.”

“Cheers to that,” Rossi says, also taking a sip.

Everyone raises their glasses, Y/N included. Her face gives no indication that the movement bothers her at all. She takes a sip and rests the glass back down where she starts tapping nervously on it and Hotch knows the meds haven’t kicked in just yet.

“Time for gifts!” Penelope yells excitedly and claps her hands, getting up from her spot after everyone had finished with their meals.

Y/N makes a move to stand up, but Hotch catches her wrist before she can. He shakes his head and says, low enough so that no one else can hear, “Don’t even think about it.”

She gives him a look but doesn’t try to shift out of her seat again. His hand stays on her for a moment longer under the table and she doesn’t try to pull away.

“Well then, would you mind grabbing the gift I brought over on the counter?” Y/N practically whispers.

Hotch has to clear his throat before responding, “Of course.” He’s up in a second, already missing the warm contact. He locates the present with white wrapping paper that was covered in gold stars, attached to it was a card that said “You’re 30!” on the cover with a picture of an cartoon senior citizen underneath the text. The sight made him laugh under his breath.

“Open mine first, please.” JJ says, handing over a rather large bag to Reid.

As he grabs it, Hotch takes his spot back next to Y/N. Spencer is ripping out the tissue paper until he reaches the gift. He pulls it out with a gasp, “Ohhh no way.”

In his hands is a model replica of the USS Enterprise from Star Trek, and by the way he was holding it, it seemed fairly heavy. Hotch smiled at the Doctor’s reaction and noticed that Y/N did too. The corners of her eyes crinkled with her grin and he wanted to lean down, just a few inches so that he could come face-to-face with her. He thought about brushing her hair out of her face, behind her ear. He would tilt her head back until she couldn’t go any further, then lean down closer, closer…

Hotch was snapped out of his thoughts by Y/N’s voice. “That one’s from me and Aaron.”

He looked at Spencer, who had the gift in his hands. “I am not thirty years old.” He tossed the offending card down onto the table and the sound of laughter filled the room from everyone.

“Is there something wrong with being thirty?” Derek asks, feigning offense.

“No, I’m just stating the fact that I am not actually thirty years old, I have another 364 days before I reach that milestone, in fact-“

“Just open the present!” Emily says, laughing.

“Okay.” Reid does as he’s told and unfolds the wrapping paper carefully. When he’s done, a hardcover book lays in his hands, but Hotch can’t make out the title. It seemed to make Spencer very happy though, if his widening smile was any indication. “Where did you find this!”

“New York, that case where we were snowed into our hotel and couldn’t leave for an extra week. Gave us time to look around.” Y/N said, making brief eye contact with Hotch. She was keeping up the ruse that he had helped in picking out Reid’s gift.

“You know, out of all of Oscar Wilde’s books, I’ve read this one the most,” Finally Hotch could make out the title ‘The Importance of Being Earnest,’ “it’s actually very short but it’s masterfully done, almost no other author compares from this century.”

“You’ve mentioned it a few times.” Y/N says.

“Thank you both, very much. This is great.” Spencer replies. 

Hotch tries not to look at her again, he’s not sure what he’ll do if he does. His professional nature was slipping with each sip of wine.

Another few minutes of Reid opening gifts goes by and they were all very thoughtful. Rossi gave him a new suit jacket, Italian made of course. From Garcia, he received several doctor who related items including the full series on blue-ray. Emily got him an iPod, mostly so that he would stop playing his music out loud on long car rides, she explained. Lastly, Derek stated that his friendship was gift enough. Though, later Hotch discovered Morgan had already given Reid a certificate for an all-expenses paid stay at a resort in the Bahamas which was run by a good friend of his.

The night ended on a good note, everyone was buzzed and in deep conversation. Hotch never left Y/N’s side. She seemed to be doing significantly better than earlier, no longer wincing at every move and engaging with the teams banter.

As everyone started to trickle out, Hotch turned towards her. “Do you need a ride?” He hadn’t noticed her car when he got here and it was unlikely that she could drive home in her state anyway.

“Oh, Emily drove me-“ Y/N said, looking around for their friend, who was nowhere to be found.

“I don’t mind, your apartment’s on the way.” Hotch replied, hoping she would say yes. He needed just a few more minutes with her. She looked up at him like she was debating it, eventually pursing her lips and nodding.

“Okay, thank you.”

The two of them said their goodbyes to those remaining, Y/N gave Spencer a hug and wished him Happy Birthday once more before they made their way outside towards Hotch’s car.

Hotch made sure to keep an eye on the way she moved, ready to support her if she needed, but it was unnecessary, she seemed to be fine. He made his way over to the passenger side door and opened it swiftly.

Y/N laughs a little, “Such a gentleman.”

Hotch smiles back and closes the door after she’s settled. Once they’re on the road, he remembers everything that he’s been meaning to say.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” He says lightheartedly.

“Do what?” She asks with that little crease between her brows. His hand tightened around the steering wheel just slightly.

“The gift for Spencer. I had no idea about it.”

“Oh, right… Well the no paperwork thing was nice. I know he appreciates it.” She says with a smile. This is torture, Hotch thinks. She’s so close to him, literally less than a foot but he can’t do anything. 

“About the phone call-“

“Hotch, don’t, I already know.” Y/N says, as if she was expecting this conversation all night. “I know I still have five days until my evaluation and if tonight was any indication, I’m still not really to be in the field yet.”

He was glad that she knew that, at least. But his intention wasn’t to scold her all the way back to her home, “Y/N, please let me… I didn’t mean to insinuate that your help wasn’t appreciated on this last case, it was.” She doesn’t say anything in response, just looks over at him with questioning eyes. “I need you to know that everything I do, everything, is for the well-being of this team.”

“I know that, Hotch-“

“Then you know that I would do anything for you.” He cuts her off, but doesn’t take take his eyes off the road, even for a second.

The tension in the car feels high, but Hotch can’t tell if only he can feel it. The seconds that go by without Y/N’s response is agonizing.

“I do know that.” Her voice is softer, almost far away. “And I would do anything for you.”

The words make his shoulder’s slump in relief, he dares to glance her way. She’s looking at him in a way he’s never seen before, a little sad maybe, but smiling. He’s tempted to pull the car over to the side of the road for a few minutes.

“You just passed my place.” Y/N says then.

“I know.”

[darkomoth]

Hello!

Small intro since I haven't done one. My name's West, she/they 22.

Blog is dedicated to writing for a lot of fandoms, I'll update the list as I upload more fics

Requests Open!

Will not write:

any sort of age-regression trope or underage thing

pregnancy fics, nothing against it, just not my thing

omega-verse stuff

if I think of more stuff later I'll add it

Currently into: Criminal Minds (Hotch x reader)

Most of my writing is reader-insert

Fandoms I'm into:

Spider-man

Criminal Minds

Daredevil

The last of Us

Peaky Blinders

The Walking Dead

Buffy

Punisher

[darkomoth]

Insomniacs

Chapter 1: Violets

Aaron Hotchner x reader

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

Cause when doesn't it?

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

Also uploaded on Ao3 under the same title

Word count: 9.7K

Ch. 2 Ch.3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, not really a question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. So?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Any sign of sexual assault?” 

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

“When were they called in?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so on it.” Penelope says.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The flower?” Prentiss asks. 

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak and be heard by residing genius PG.” 

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

“What makes you think that?” Prentiss asks. 

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet?” 

-  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already being sent.” 

“Oh...” She said, sadly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, just one more thing, sir.” 

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Has anyone seen L/N?” She asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Me neither.” Reid says. 

Everyone else only shakes their head in agreement. 

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

“Well...” JJ starts. 

“What?” Hotch asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were the profiler.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-  

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

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

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

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

Then he took a deep breath and dialed Garcia. 

“Sir?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, God. Oh my God, okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“When was she taken?” Prentiss asks first. 

“And from where?” Reid adds. 

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

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

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

That made everyone stiffen. 

Rossi speaks now, “Same message?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And JJ, what’d you get from her parents?” Hotch asks, fingers curled into fists as his arms cross in front of his chest. 

“It’s the same story as the other parents, everybody loved her, there was no one who held any grudges.” JJ says. “Her mother did mention an admirer, though.” 

“An admirer?” Prentiss repeats. 

“Yeah, I guess Sam was getting love letters. Innocuous enough to not raise alarm, but still out of the ordinary.” 

“Did she say who they were from?” Hotch says hurriedly. 

 JJ shakes her head, “No, she had no idea.” 

“Prentiss and I got Garcia to dig into Sam and Riley’s relationship,” Rossi says. “They were together only one year before deciding to tie the knot.” 

“They seemed to love each other.” Prentiss adds. 

“Well looks can be deceiving.” Hotch says. “Garcia got his address, Morgan and Prentiss, with me. The rest of you stay and find out absolutely everything you can about this secret admirer, he’s our unsub.” 

- 

When Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss arrived at the suburban home at the end of a cul-de-sac, all three stepped out and quickly made their way to the front door. 

Three loud knocks on the front door from Morgan and a few seconds later Riley came out. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you Riley Perkins?” Hotch asked, though he knew the answer. 

“Yes, I am. What is this about?” 

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, these are special agents Morgan and Prentiss, may we come in?” He didn’t leave room for Perkins to answer, as he was already stepping inside. 

“Um, what-what is this about?” He asks again nervously, stepping aside to let the three of them into his living room. 

The house was a mess, laundry and trash littered most of the surfaces. The man himself didn’t look too good, like he hasn’t slept in a week. 

“We’re here about your fiancé, Samantha Garner.” Morgan says. 

Perkins shifts his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably, not making eye contact. “Did you, um, did you find her?” 

“Yes, sir we did.” Morgan responds. 

The man's nodding, fidgeting where he stands. “And?” 

“Sir, I’m afraid she’s dead.” Morgan explains as calmly as he can. 

Hotch notices the way Perkins handles the news, the tenseness of his shoulders dissipating. Not necessarily relieved by the news but accepting. Like he already knew that she was dead. 

“Oh my God...” He lifts a palm up to his face and sobs for a moment. 

“Mr. Perkins, I’m going to ask you once and if you’re not honest with me, trust that I will know.” Hotch states after he finally stops. The man looks him up and down and nods. “Did you receive a phone call the day your fiancé went missing?” 

“I uh- I don’t remember...” Perkins says, again breaking eye contact. 

“Yes, you do.” Hotch says, now invading his personal space. “It was the day your fiancé went missing, you knew something was wrong when she didn’t come home from work, you called the police. And then someone called you, didn’t they?” 

“I- I mean no I don’t...” Perkins finally looks up and then sighs. “I don’t know who it was, I really, really don’t.” 

“What did he say, exactly.” Prentiss asks. 

Perkins looks at her and shakes his head a little, “He said... that I shouldn’t look for her, that I- I'll never see her again.” He starts crying again after that. 

“Anything else at all? Was he calm, erratic?” Morgan asks. 

“He was like, mumbling, I don’t know.” 

“There’s something you’re not telling us, if you’re withholding essential information to interfere with a federal investigation, I will see to it that you are charged with obstruction of justice.” Hotch says, angrier by the second. 

Perkins looks like he’s going to throw up and his legs give out. He slumps down onto the couch before he can speak. “He said... he said that he would kill me too if I spoke to the police again.” His head is in his hands as he talks. “I knew, I knew the second the news said they discovered a body in Millenium Park.” He was almost incomprehensible through his sobs. “They couldn’t identify her, but I knew.” 

“Mr. Perkins... Riley.” Prentiss takes a seat next to him and speaks softly, trying to establish trust. “This man has killed at least five other women.” His cries stopped for a moment when he turned to look at her, a shocked expression on his face. “We need your help in order to stop him.” 

“I told you, I swear, I don’t know who it is.” 

“We think that you do, you just don’t know it.” Morgan says. 

Hotch jumps in, “Samantha was his target from the beginning, he knew her. He may have even known you. Think, was there anyone new in your lives? Someone who seemed a little too friendly too quickly? He would have made you uncomfortable, he was domineering and egotistical.” 

“Well, um I didn’t know him, I mean, I never met him,” Perkins says, “but there was a guy. Sam would complain about how annoying he was at work, a new hire. She said he talked her ear off about his life, asked too many personal questions...” He trails off for a minute looking between the three agents. “Do you think this man killed my fiancé?” 

“Possibly.” Hotch replies. “I have one more question and then we’ll leave.” Perkins nods, tight-lipped. “Did she mention that this man called her by a different name, maybe her middle name?” 

His face changed completely, mouth dropping open and blinking, “Yes! Yeah, she mentioned that he would call her ‘my Violet’ like every day, it bugged her.” 

“Thank you for your time.” 

- 

Hours had gone by while you stayed strapped to this god damned chair. The torture felt never-ending. The unsub landed blow after blow to your face and stomach, only offering a reprieve when you had temporarily passed out from the pain. You couldn’t see very well out of your left eye and your fingers were involuntarily twitching. The blood in your mouth was metallic and awful, adding to your nausea.  

“You know,” The man said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I appreciate the way you’re hanging on. It will make the ending a lot more fun.” 

If you had the energy, you would recoil from his closeness to your face. His breath repulsed you, but you stayed completely still, barely blinking, shallow breaths lifting and lowering your chest. 

“Mm, you really need to wake up.” He pushes your head back so that you’re forced to look at him. With his grip in your hair, he strikes you in the face with the back of his hand. “Nothin.” 

You couldn’t say with any real accuracy how much time had actually gone by since you were first taken, but you had a feeling that your time was running out. Your thoughts wandered to your team.  

You missed talking and joking with Prentiss and JJ, you missed Garcia’s cheery voice over the speaker phone. You wanted to hear Morgan’s stories about picking up women and Rossi’s input that made everyone laugh. You wanted to hear Reid ramble about nothing and everything. Mostly, you find yourself thinking about Hotch.  

You missed walking into the BAU and knowing you would find him in his office. You thought about his stern face and wanted to know what it would be like to reach your hands out and touch him, wipe away his anger and guilt. You wanted another silent morning where the two of you would sit in the conference room and drink your coffees, enjoying the comfortable silence of the early hours. 

You wanted to see his rare, but beautiful smile. The kind of thing that had to be earned; it was the best. As you thought more about him, the sadder you got. You should’ve told him, even just once, how much you liked his company... how much you liked him. 

- 

When Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss get back to the precinct, Reid’s discovered something. He and the rest of the team have been working the secret admirer angle, which they now knew was a coworker at Samantha’s law office. 

“All of the bouquets of violets left at the victim’s families homes came with a note, they all said the same thing. ‘My condolences, -K.M.’” Reid explains quickly. 

Hotch knows they’re running out of time, it was already past noon, and the team was restless, but this gave him a spur of hope that they were getting close. He pulled out his phone and dialed Garcia’s number. 

“Ready and waiting.” She said. 

“Garcia,” Hotch’s voice was stern if not a little shaky with anxiety, “was there anyone in Samantha Garner’s workplace with the initials K.M.?” 

“Uhhhh, nine.” 

“Cross-check those names with anyone arrested for minor charges, assault or something similar, he would be in his 30’s or 40’s now, white.” 

“Only one, a Kyle Mazdin, arrested four years ago for breaking into an ex-girlfriend's home and burglarizing it, then arrested again for a bar fight where he nearly killed a man.” 

“We’ll need his address immediately.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

20 minutes later Rossi and JJ were at Mazdin’s office, and the rest of the team was at Mazdin’s home. 

Hotch screeched to a stop in the front of the seemingly normal house, “Prentiss with me, Morgan, take the back of the house, Reid through the garage.” 

All of them nodded in silent acknowledgment. Morgan and Reid broke off, headed to the side gate, while Hotch and Prentiss entered through the front. 

“FBI! Kyle Mazdin, open up!” Hotch yelled. They only waited a few seconds before bursting inside. 

The door was unlocked, and they quickly moved from room to room on the first floor with their guns out and ready, yelling “Clear!” before heading upstairs. There was nothing on the second floor either, making Hotch exhale a frustrated breath.  

“Hold on.” Prentiss said, stopping Hotch. “You hear that?” 

Hotch furrowed his brows and listened. “No, I don’t-” 

Just then, a creaking noise from below. Like light footsteps, moving carefully.  

Prentiss and Hotch shared a look before running back down the stairs, but there was still nothing. Morgan and Reid were inside, also trying to find the source of the noise.  

“The rental car is in the garage.” Reid said quickly and quietly. 

“Anything out back?” Prentiss asked Morgan, who shook his head. 

Another noise came from behind the team as they stood in the living space, next to the staircase. Hotch moves silently over to the cabinet door that’s connected to the wall under the stairs. It swings open and his gun and flashlight point at nothing. It’s empty save for a few coats hanging on a rack. But looking down, he sees a square-shaped covering with a latch. 

Hotch motions for Morgan, who stands ready to open it. As soon as he does, Hotch points his flashlight and gun down, where he sees another set of stairs leading to a hidden basement. Hotch’s jaw tenses and his grip of the glock tightens as he makes his way down, hearing the footsteps of his team behind him. 

As he gets halfway down, he sees a lamp illuminating your figure which is tied to a chair in the center of the room. Mazdin is behind you, the metal wire already wrapped around your neck, not tight enough to kill you, but forceful enough to threaten. 

“Let her go now.” Hotch’s voice is strained, his anger making it hard to remain still. He can hear the rest of the team coming down the stairs and stopping by his side, also training their guns on the man. “You have nowhere to go, it ends here.” 

“Yes, it does.” Mazdin says, pulling the wire tighter against your throat, making you jerk back a little in your chair. 

Hotch dared to look at your face, bloody and bruised, and it made his stomach churn. You were conscious, making eye contact with him and taking shallow breaths. Hotch’s heart was beating out of his chest, unable to stop when he took a step closer to you. 

“Another step and she’s dead.” The man said, keeping his grip on the wire. 

Hotch’s gun was burning in his hand as it was aimed at the unsub’s head, finger twitching on the trigger. “Drop your weapon and no one else dies today.” Mazdin was taking deep, shaking breaths, debating his next move. Hotch knew the man didn’t want to die, but he most certainly didn’t want to go to jail either. “Everyone will know what you did, and why. How the love of your life betrayed you, how you got your payback... even how you managed to abduct a Federal Agent. But only if you let her go.” 

Hotch could tell the words were at least getting through to him. His grip slackened, his back straightening a bit. Morgan and Prentiss took the opportunity and rushed him, immediately tacking Mazdin to the floor. He struggled and yelled, but Morgan kept him still enough for Prentiss to cuff him. At the same time, Hotch rushed to Y/N, holstering his gun. 

“Get him out of here.” Hotch told Morgan, who roughly dragged Mazdin up to his feet and forced him up the staircase and out of the house where the local police had finally shown up. Reid and Prentiss followed, holstering their guns as well, only after Hotch informed them to grab paramedics for you. 

“It’s okay.” Hotch was saying as he knelt down to your level, all anger dissipating and worry replacing it. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He holds Y/N’s head in his hands gently, trying to gauge the damage to her face and body. The blood coming from her nose was extensive, and the blood on his hand indicated a serious head injury. He couldn’t tell if anything was broken just yet. 

“Okay, I’m going to get these off of you, alright?” Hotch asks you while tugging on the ropes, but your eyes were drifting closed. “No, Y/N, no you have to stay awake for me, you may have a concussion, the paramedics are on their way, okay?” She met his eyes finally and then smiled a little bit. It made his chest tighten in response. 

“Okay.” Her voice was uneven, probably because of lack of hydration and near strangulation. It made his frown deepen, but he made sure to work quickly at untying the restraints. “Aaron.” 

He stopped at the sound of his first name on your lips. It was very rare that you called him Aaron, it made his breath catch for a moment as he removed the last bit of rope from her ankles and looked up at her. Y/N was staring at him with an indescribable look on her face, exhaustion and relief but also pain. “Thank you for finding me... I knew that you would.” 

Hotch didn’t know what to say. He had sent her away- their last interaction wasn’t a very good one, but she was here, alive and thanking him. It made that warmth from the other night in the precinct return. “Let's get you out of here.” Hotch gently slipped his arms up underneath Y/N so that he could lift her to her feet as the paramedics came down. Her groan of pain made his jaw tense, but he didn’t stop. 

The EMT’s asked if she could walk and Y/N nodded, though she leaned most of her weight onto Hotch. He didn’t mind, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist and helping her up the stairs, into the living room. Once the two of you had made it outside, Hotch allowed the EMT’s to take her. She lay on the cot in the ambulance, and Hotch kept his hand in hers the whole ride to the hospital. 

He watched as you drifted off, thinking just how much trouble they had gone through just to get you to sleep. 

[darkomoth]

Teach Me

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You want Peter to teach you how to defend yourself, he isn't keen on the idea

Notes: Short fluff one-shot as a treat to myself after my long-ass angst story

Word count: 1k

Things were going really well between Peter and you. Almost a year of dating and you practically lived with him. Not officially, seeing as you still had your own place. But most nights he found you in his bed after arriving home from a long night of fighting crime. Your books would be scattered around, a couple of your shirts littered the apartment.

It made him happy, knowing that you were close by where he could keep you safe. God knows how unsafe New York is. Peter loved having someone to come home to that he could share all of his secrets with. Someone that would listen to him and keep him company when everything began to feel like it was too much. You were that someone, and he was so grateful for it.

Peter had just woken up on a Saturday morning, noticing his arms were no longer wrapped around his girlfriend where you once laid by his side.

“Y/N?” He calls out softly.

“In the kitchen!” You yelled back. He was fully awake now, smelling the toast, bacon, and eggs that were being cooked. It made him smile and slowly he stretched before getting out of bed and making his way over to the other room.

“Good morning.” You say, kissing Peter on the cheek happily. Before you can pull away fully, he encircles your waist and kisses you on the lips much more deeply.

“Morning.” He smirks and you just laugh lightly in response.

“Come eat breakfast.”

The two of you sit on the couch in the living room and talk for a little, but Peter can tell something is off. Your eyes avert his and you ramble more, it’s not enough to be concerning really, but it’s unusual.

“Are you alright?” He finally asks. He notices how you swallow nervously and take a deep breath.

“I want you to teach me how to fight.” You state, setting your plate on the nearby coffee table.

“What? Why?” Peter asks, doing the same with his food.

“Why?” You repeat. “Because you’re Spider-Man and that’s something that will inevitably affect me.”

“Affect you?” He asks, a little surprised.

You sigh and rub a hand over your face. “Yes, Peter. With what’s happened to you in the past and-”

“That wasn’t my fault-” He tries, though he barely believes his own words. Peter knows how much danger he puts himself in and, by extension, you. It’s since become much more tense in the room than a few minutes ago.

“I know! I know that. I-I’m just saying it couldn’t hurt to be able to defend myself.” You say.

“You shouldn’t have to. I told you, I’ll always protect you.” Peter doesn’t know where all of this is coming from. You’ve never shown an interest in fighting before and it worries him.

“Yeah, I know that Pete, but you won’t always be around. I need to know how to do this… and if you don’t teach me I’ll just have to learn, myself.”

“Why are you pushing for this so hard?” He asks, maybe a little angrier than he’d intended given your slight flinch at his tone.

“Why are you so against it?!” You practically shout, heart racing faster than before.

It’s quiet for a few moments, both of you trying to calm yourselves.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. And I definitely don’t want what I do to influence you in any way.” Peter finally says.

“Influence me?” You ask, sounding confused and a little offended. “In what way?”

“There are enough vigilante’s running around New York, it doesn’t need another one.”

“That’s what you think? That if I learn how to fight I’m just gonna put on some mask and run around beating people up?”

Well, when you put it like that, he thinks.

You scoff when he doesn’t answer. “You’re ridiculous.” You move to stand from your position on the couch, but Peter catches your wrist gently.

“Wait- just-” He lets out a long sigh, then stands up too. “Alright. I’ll teach you.”

He sees you break out into a wide smile and all the tension dissipates. You fling your arms around him in a tight hug, “Thank you! You won’t regret it, seriously. It could be fun, ya know. Like instead of date night we can have Fight Night™.”

Peter listens to your rambling and can’t help his growing grin either. You’re just really cute when you’re excited.

So for the foreseeable future, that’s what the two of you do. Every weekend when you have time to yourselves, Peter shows you everything he knows when it comes to defense (and maybe some offensive moves as well, just in case).

Peter swings at your head with not a lot of force, but you quickly dodge it. You kick towards his stomach and he catches your leg. You jump up towards him so that he loses his balance and you can free yourself. You then throw a right hook which he deflects and throws his own. You grab his arm and swing him to the ground. Peter latches onto your arm and brings you down with him, which ends with you straddling his waist and pinning down both his wrists.

“That was cute.” You say, with a small smirk.

“Not as cute as this.” Peter breaks away from your grasp and flips the both of you over so that he’s on top. His knees are on either side of your thighs and he gently grasps your throat with his hand. Your heartbeat is wild but your grin tells him you’re enjoying this. Then your left leg wraps around his right one before you push with all your strength to flip him over once again.

“I win.” You say, then peck Peter’s lips before springing back up. He’s still lying on the ground, a large smile overtaking his features.

“This round.”

[darkomoth]

Grief and Longing 4/4

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You and Peter deal with the fallout of your memories resurfacing

Notes: Last part! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You were twitching in your sleep, Peter noticed. Your eyes moved rapidly beneath your eyelids and your breath was quick. An hour ago, you were fine. Peter watched as you fell asleep with a small smile on your lips, your arms wrapped securely around him, legs tangled with his. Now it wasn’t quite so peaceful and he wasn’t sure whether to wake you up or not. It didn’t matter because in the next few seconds you jerk yourself up in a sweat. The sudden movement made Peter flinch, “Hey, hey, Y/N are you okay?” He asks, more than a little concerned now.

You feel Peter’s hand on your back and hear his worried voice, but all you can do is try to catch your breath. Your head was dizzy and your heart was beating fast. “Yeah…” You breath out shakily. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You glance at him and you can tell he doesn’t believe you.

“What was that?” Peter asks. “Did you have a nightmare, cuz you know I get those too and I know it can be stressful-”

“No, n-not really. I think it was a… memory?” You say, mostly to yourself. “It was of you.”

Peter understood, then. “Oh… What was it about?” He sat up with you now, a comforting hand rubbing small circles into your lower back.

You shake your head, trying your hardest to form it into words. “We were at school. I think we were dating cuz you held my hand, led me up to the roof, kissed me.”

Peter was starting to feel a little jealous of himself. Which, granted, is ridiculous, but that didn’t stop him. “And then?”

“Umm, nothing, I just woke up. That wasn’t really you… was it?” You asked, facing Peter now. You scooted closer to him, your hand reaching towards his. “I mean, it was. It was you just not this you.”

“Yeah, it seems you might be getting pieces of your memory back.” Peter said barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against your cheek. You could only nod back happily. “We must be doing something right, then.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Apparently…” The two of you were slowly leaning into each other. Peter pulled his hand from yours so that he could cup it around your jaw gently. You let yourself get pulled towards him, his lips finding yours instantly. It was slow and sweet and you wanted to melt into this moment, become one with it. The smell of Peter’s cologne wrapped around you and your mind was blank, the only thought in your head was that of the boy in your arms.

“You know,” Peter says when you finally manage to pull away, “you are so beautiful.” He’s looking at you so sweetly it makes your heart ache.

Heat rises in your cheeks and all you can do in response is mumble a “thank you” and kiss him again.

-

Days passed by quickly after that. Soon weeks had gone by. Peter was able to set up an interview for you at the Bugle which went well. Now you actually had an income, a little stability besides Peter that made you feel like maybe this could work.

The two of you working together as Spider-Man and Spider-Woman was amazing. The paper you both worked for now didn’t feel the same way though. They called you a menace and a vigilante with no morals. It was very similar to what you experienced back home, except now you actually had some back up. No major threats popped up for a while, making it actually manageable to start living your new life.

The dreams of your Peter increased. At first, it was just here and there that you’d get a snippet of your life with him. You’d see him in a kitchen with a woman whom he called Aunt May or him sticking to the ceiling of your bedroom after just discovering his new-found power, lots of little things like that. But soon they become full-fledged memories.

You’d dreamt of your first encounter with Peter in elementary school. He was being chased by some other kids so you stuck your foot out and tripped one of them. The others all crowded around, making sure he was okay, but you went to Peter and introduced yourself. “I’m Y/N.” You said, hand sticking out for the boy to grab. He gave you a big, toothy grin and shook your hand fast, “Peter.” You two were practically inseparable from that point on.

You dreamt of the secret handshake the two of you created, one boring day in the middle of Spanish class. “No! You messed it up again, Parker.” You said, feigning annoyance that quickly turned to laughter.

“Well if you hadn’t made this so complicated…” He said with a roll of his eyes. You smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

“It’s like 3 steps, pull yourself together.”

The dreams started seeping into the daytime and you were starting to remember things while awake. Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your Peter while in mid-conversation with this Peter. It boggled your mind just how similar they were. Nearly indistinguishable. The only real difference being that this Peter was alive. He’d smile at you and you’d get a flashback of being back home, sixteen years old, lying on your bed doing homework while Peter tried to distract you.

One morning while you and Peter were eating breakfast, a memory hit you so hard that you felt physically nauseous. Leaning on the counter for support, you could hear a muffled worried voice asking if you were okay in the background. You couldn’t pay attention enough to answer, not after what just came back to you.

It was Peter, fully dressed in his Spider-Man attire. But he wasn’t swinging around, cracking jokes like you were used to. His mask was removed, blood was gushing from his nose, one of his eyes was swollen shut. There was the Green Goblin, Harry Osborn, gripping his neck and saying something to him that you couldn’t hear because you were too far away. You were half-hanging over the side of a bridge, holding onto your web for dear life because on the other end of it was a busload of children. They were screaming and your muscles tensed in protest as you pulled with all your strength. Your eyes flicked between the kids whose lives depended on you and Peter. He looked pale, half-dead. Dread rippled through you when your eyes met his for the briefest of seconds before he started falling.

“Peter!” You screamed, but stayed completely still. Your feet were glued to the ground while you watched your best friend and love of your life hurdle towards the concrete. All you could do was scream. Pulling harder than you could’ve imagined yourself capable, the bus was slowly being lifted back on stable ground. The people around you stood in awe as you tugged one last time, all of the wheels now touching the bridge. Kids trampled over one another in an attempt to leave the vehicle, most crying, others in shock. The second they were all out, you took off.

Your feet hit the pavement with unbelievable speed before you swung yourself the rest of the way towards Peter. You stopped in front of his body, too afraid to make another move for a solid ten seconds. A chill settled deep in your bones.

“Peter?” You whispered. Kneeling down next to him now, you placed a shaking hand on his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Peter, it’s time to get up.” He was still. Eyes closed, not even a twitch of muscle to indicate life. “Peter!” You broke, finally. Sobs wracked your body as your hands caressed his face. You repeated his name over and over mixed in with bouts of “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Time was at a stand-still and you couldn’t find your breath. You felt hands on your shoulders and someone calling your name. “Y/N! Y/N! Hey, answer me please, you’re really starting to freak me out, here.”

You blinked slowly, coming back to yourself. Your vision refocused and there, like a miracle, was Peter. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pulled down in a devastating frown, but he was alive.

“Peter?” His name came out as a sob. You fell into him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He rocked you both gently, shushing you and running his fingers through your hair.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He said, trying his best to comfort you. Peter didn’t know exactly what had just happened, but he could fathom a guess. He was aware of your returning memories and tried his best to be there for you through it, but none of them have affected you like this. None of them had you hyperventilating and shaking like you were doing now in his arms. His heart broke, knowing the only thing that could have made you react in such a way. It was the same for him when Gwen died in his arms. The night terrors ate away at him for months.

“Why…” You mumbled into Peter’s neck. Your crying had subsided for the most part, but you still felt dizzy and a little bit numb.

“Hm?” Peter hummed in response.

“Why didn’t you t-tell me?” You asked, voice hoarse and laced with sadness.

“Tell you what, sweetheart?”

You pulled away from him then so you could look into his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was my fault he died?”

Peter sighed heavily. He knew this was coming and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. “You know why.” You shook your head and opened your mouth to say something else, but Peter cut you off before you had the chance. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve talked about this before, back in the other universe. Being the cause of someone’s death and not being able to save someone are two very, very, different things.” He said as gently as he could, his hands cupping your face while you looked at him with disbelief.

You shook your head again and reached your hands around his wrists to push them away, not being able to handle his touch right now. “You lied to me. I thought- I don’t know what I thought…”

“Hey, I never lied to you, okay? I swear that wasn’t what I was trying to do-”

“Lying and not telling the full truth is the same thing.”

Peter looked at you with such sad eyes that you had to break away. You bit your lip and thought of what to say. What could be said? You know the full story now. Your life with Peter, how beautiful and generous and good he was. How the two of you fell in love. How you were too weak to save him. How could you even allow yourself to be happy after what you’d done?

Peter interrupted your thoughts by slipping his hand into yours once again and pulling you slowly towards the couch. He sat you down and went into the kitchen where he grabbed a glass and filled it up with water. When he returned, your eyes were still downcast, unable to look at him. His chest aches at the thought of you remaining this way. So guilt-ridden and broken that you wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him. Peter sits down next to you, handing you the glass. You sip on it slowly, unsure where to go from here.

“He was so close.” You say after a couple minutes. “I mean, he was right there. I could’ve gotten to him… but there were kids.”

Peter’s listening, trying his best to give you space, but wanting nothing more than to pull you into his side and keep you there. His hands twitched at his sides as he watched you.

“I had a decision to make and I made it.” You sound far away and simultaneously devastated. “Now I’ll have to live with that decision for the rest of my life.”

Peter’s eyes sting with unshed tears as he listens. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand towards yours. You don’t pull away which is a good sign, he thinks. He grabs it and then gives it a firm squeeze before he says, “Not alone, you don’t.”

You look up at him now. Peter feels like he can breathe again when your eyes finally make contact. “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” you admit. “I never would have remembered… I would’ve just gone home with no idea of what I lost… These past few weeks have been the best of my life.”

“For me too,” He says honestly, cracking the smallest of smiles. “I-” Peter chokes on his words. This isn’t something he’s said to anyone. Not since Gwen. But time has passed since then. He rediscovered those feelings he once thought he’d never get to experience again. Joy, comfort, and… “I love you.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. Your heart beats loudly in your chest as you struggle with your words, “You… you love me.” It wasn’t a question, Peter knew, but he still nodded. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious about your response, but it was all put to ease when he saw the edges of your lips turn up in a brilliant smile. “I’m in love with you, Peter Parker. I’ve literally never not been in love with you.”

Peter smiles wide, pulling you close so that his mouth could reach yours. He kissed you with more passion than you thought possible. It made your head dizzy in a good way.

“I promise I’ll never lie to you again.” Peter says between ragged breaths, his forehead resting on yours.

“I understand why you did it.” You say. “But if you do it again, I will web you to the ceiling and leave you there.”

Peter laughs, throwing his head back. “I would expect nothing less.”

The rest of the day is filled with long conversations and tender kisses. The two of you stay on the couch, holding one another and whispering sweet nothings until the sun lowers in the sky. Eventually, Peter and you drift off, covered in a warm blanket, limbs tangled together with the comfort of knowing you were both safe, in the arms of the person you loved.

[darkomoth]

Grief and Longing 3/4

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Your and Peter's relationship takes a turn, the two of you are figuring it out together

Notes: Shorter than the last two chapters, I know, but we're nearing the end here! :)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

You wake up with your head resting against something warm and hard. Slowly, you look around yourself and realize you’d fallen asleep quite literally on top of Peter. You’re both on the couch still and Peter's arms are secured around you. You feel that familiar heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks and try to remove yourself. He must’ve felt you stir because soon Peter was shifting and opening his eyes.

“Good morning.” He says with that little smile of his that you can’t help but return.

“Morning.” You reply. “Do you mind if I uh- well, I need to use the restroom.”

Peter realizes he’s still holding on to you and reluctantly starts to pull away. “Oh, yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” He laughs awkwardly which you join in on.

“No problem. Sorry I fell asleep and sorta trapped you.” You say, removing the blanket and getting up. You feel the cool air of the apartment as goosebumps bloom over your arms and legs.

“I didn’t mind.” Peter says, still laying down. He’s smirking and you don’t know how to respond so you just nod and leave the room as quick as you can. You swear you can hear him chuckling under his breath as you’re walking away.

You splash some cold water on your face in the bathroom to wake yourself up more. Well, that, and to cool down a bit before you go back out there. Peter just… does something to you. Something that nobody really has before. You’ve had childhood crushes before, small ones that you forgot about in a week, but this wasn’t like that. This was different, that’s for sure. You try to just focus on brushing your teeth and getting dressed, but your mind still wanders. Peter’s eyes, his lips, the way he holds your hand. You shake your head, ‘pull yourself together’ you think.

When you do finally get back to the living room, Peter’s disappeared. You’re sure he wasn’t in his room, the door was open and you could see that it was empty. “Peter?” You call out, making your way to the kitchen. On the fridge, you see a small note held up by a magnet. It reads in messy writing “getting breakfast, be back soon!” He drew a little spider on it, because of course he did, the dork. You catch yourself smiling at it.

Well, since he’s gone, you may as well be productive. You found today’s paper on the coffee table with a few other pieces of Peter’s mail. Picking it up as well as a nearby pen, you get to work on looking for suitable jobs in the area.

“Waitressing… I could do that.” You mumble to yourself, though you’re not thrilled at the idea. You’d done waitressing before, it’s not very fun. But you have experience and you were pretty good at it, if you do say so yourself. “Bartender, receptionist, hostess…” You list off, circling each one and jotting down the contact information so that you could call later and set up some interviews. Starting from scratch in a brand new world was gonna be difficult. Was your social security number the same? Did a version of you even exist in this universe?

That thought stopped you in your tracks. You hadn’t even considered that idea before now. What if a Y/N Y/L/N is out there right now living her life, looking exactly like you. What if you ran into her? Or one of her friends? What would you say, that you two were long lost sisters, separated at birth?

Before you could think on it any longer, you heard a window slide open. You turned your head to see Peter, in full Spider-Man attire, climbing through it with a brown bag in hand.

“Hey stranger.” He says, placing the bag on the island countertop and then removing his mask. His hair is messy and you suddenly wonder how soft it would feel between your fingers.

“Hey.” You reply, making your way over to him. “You get dressed in your superhero outfit to grab…” You look into the bag, “breakfast burritos and hashbrowns?”

“Why, don’t you?” Peter asks, his head quirked to the side making you laugh.

You take a seat at the counter next to him. “Oh yeah, all the time. In fact, I don’t even go to the bathroom without it on.” Peter joins in your laughter before handing you your food. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. So what’s the plan for today? Cuz I was thinking we could take a look around, get you familiar with the area, see what’s different, what’s the same.” He says excitedly.

“Oh yeah, that sounds great, but I was actually uh- well I was looking through the paper for some jobs nearby. I mean, they’re all minimum wage and sorta not-fun but I’ll take what I can get.” You explain in between bites of your burrito.

“Mmm.” Peter hums, “You know, I could see if there’s an opening at the Bugle- the place I work at. They could use a good comic artist since ours quit a while back.”

“Really? That would be great, thanks.”

“Of course, but that can wait until tomorrow. Today is exploring day!” He jumps up, pulling you with him. “Get your suit on, we’re going swinging.”

-

You’d never enjoyed doing your job as much as you did right now. Technically, you and Peter weren’t trying to look for any crime to meddle in, but you and him were always on the lookout. Swinging about New York with someone else instead of alone was a totally new experience for you. Sharing in this indescribable feeling of flying through the air, relying solely on your own strength and instincts. Peter looked like a trained acrobat, doing flips and twirls. It was a sight to behold, for sure.

“Let’s stop here!” You hear Peter yell out to you as you approach a tall glass building you weren’t familiar with. You nod and pull yourself up to the roof before landing in a somersault. He’s panting and so are you, but the adrenaline rush has you smiling wide beneath your mask. Wordlessly, you both make your way to the edge where you sit, legs dangling in the air far above the rest of the city. The sun is high in the sky, there’s a warm breeze and it’s so peaceful. Peter removes his mask and you follow suit.

“Pretty.” You say, looking out at the view before you. The sunlight’s hitting the windows of the skyscrapers in such a way that makes the city glow with warm light. Pretty doesn’t even cover it.

“Yeah.” Peter sighs, but he’s not looking out at the skyline. His head’s tilted in your direction and he’s eyeing your expression. He loves this. Having someone again to share in his secret. Ever since Gwen, he’s been almost completely alone. Of course he has Aunt May, and he doesn’t know what he’d do without her, but it wasn’t the same. Not even close. He follows the curve of your lips, how your eyes crinkle with a smile, it’s hard to look away from.

“So, what do you think?” He asks as nonchalant as possible.

“It’s very similar. Really, it’s almost an exact replica. Like, okay, you see that building over there?” You lean over Peter to point to a smaller concrete building with a big red sign out front that reads “Anthony’s Pizzeria.” The left side of your body is fully touching his right and it’s hard for him to think for a second.

“Ahem- yeah, yeah I see it.”

“Back home, that’s where I’d go out to eat almost every weekend. It was called “Tony’s Pizzeria” though. Weird. The owner always gave me a discount.” You smile fondly before it dawns on you that you’d never go there again. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be the same. A wave of homesickness came over you suddenly.

Peter noticed the change in your demeanor. Not sure what to say, he just reaches an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to his side. Your head rested on his shoulder now, the silence not uncomfortable. You didn’t think you’d feel like this about leaving your world. What was there to be sad about? Nothing was left for you back there, no family, no friends, no… Peter. Your Peter was gone.

Another couple minutes passed before Peter spoke up. “I know that this can’t be easy, but I want you to know that I’m glad you’re here.” You look up at him then and his breath gets caught in his throat. Your eyes are glossy but there’s an upward turn to your lips and you’re just so beautiful, he thinks.

“Thank you.” Your heart’s racing. It’s making it difficult to focus. You and Peter haven’t stopped looking into each other's eyes until he breaks contact to glimpse at your lips. Then you’re licking them and he’s getting closer to you. He hovers there, his nose brushing yours.

“Really, really glad.” Peter whispers and leans in more. You meet him halfway, impatient now. Finally your lips connect and you just melt into him completely. It’s perfect. The way he caresses your head with one hand while the other grips your waist. His lips are soft and you sigh into him, tangling your hands in his hair. It is soft, you think.

Slowly, you both break apart. Peter leans his forehead on yours, his eyes are closed and he has the most beautiful smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting to do that again.”

“Again?” You ask, brow furrowed.

He looks at you then like he was caught in some awful lie. “Oh, right, sorry. You don’t remember the um…” Peter fumbles with his words, his hands still resting in your hair and on your waist, unwilling to let go now that he has you. “Before the spell that made you forget, like literally right before…”

You blush and look down, letting out a weak breathy laugh. “Oh… I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

“Hey,” Peter rests his hand under your chin and lifts your head a little so you have to look at him. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad we got a do-over.” You laugh and lean your head on his chest.

“Yeah, me too. I promise not to forget it this time.” He chuckles and holds you to him.

“Better not.”

Peter and you sat there for a while longer, hours it seemed. It was a relatively quiet day for New York. The warm breeze soon became chilly, the afternoon sun lowered in the sky, settling a beautiful array of pinks and oranges in the clouds. You could stay here with Peter forever, you thought. This was perfect.

-

The two of you came across a few petty criminals on the way home. They were hijacking a car and it took all of ten minutes for you and Peter to deal with them. One spider-man against a group of criminals was hardly a fair fight, but two? They might as well have not put up any fight at all.

It’s dusk now back at the apartment and you and Peter have changed into comfier clothing. You’re in a tank top and shorts, Peter in his white T-shirt and sweatpants. The plan was to order take-out and watch another movie. But it feels different now. The energy between you two has changed, you both notice it. You’re both so aware of one another. Peter looks at you and runs a hand down the length of your arm. Goosebumps rise on the skin he lingers over. He’s so gentle, you think. It’s endearing and simultaneously frustrating because all you want is for him to grab you and kiss you again. Like he’s read your mind, Peter dips down to catch your mouth with his. It’s faster this time, almost desperate.

He’s pushing you back, more, more until you trip and fall horizontally onto the couch. You don’t get the chance to catch your breath because Peter’s on top of you, hands roaming the length of your body and god you just feel amazing and it’s all so… familiar. You know you haven’t done this before, but what if you had? With your Peter back in your universe? Is that why being with this Peter is so easy and comforting? Was that the only reason?

Peter can’t believe any of this was happening. He was hoping for it, of course. But he didn’t know if you would reciprocate any of these feelings, especially since you had no memory of ever liking him before now. It was a slight ego boost, he admits, to have you here like this after only a few days of knowing you. You’re under him, hands caressing his neck and back while he nips at your jaw, then neck, then lower.

A knock at the door stops the both of you in your tracks. “That’ll be our chinese food.” Peter says, voice hoarse. You can only nod up at him, flustered. “We could just leave it out there.” He jokes with a smirk.

You exhale a breathy laugh, “That certainly is an option, but I think I heard your stomach growling just a minute ago.”

Peter looks offended, “If anyone’s stomach was growling, it was yours. I have control over my body.”

“Oh do you?” You ask with a smirk of your own. He just inhales sharply, shakes his head and steals one last kiss before getting off of you and heading for the door. He comes back, bag of food in hand and gestures for you to scoot over so he can sit down next to you.

“I had a thought earlier today.” You say while unpacking the styrofoam boxes. Peter only hums in response. “Well… there was a Peter Parker in my universe, right? So logically, that means there’s a possibility that there would be a Y/N Y/L/N here, maybe.”

Peter has a mouthful of food that he stops chewing on for a second. He shrugs and swallows, “Hm, yeah, maybe.”

“You never met her or anything?” You ask.

“No, I never had the pleasure.” He smirks and you smack him lightly on the shoulder, but you can’t help but to smile back at him.

“I’m serious. What if I run into her one day? Or someone mistakes me for her? I have no idea what her life is like here.”

“Hey, New York’s a big city, alright? It’s very unlikely you’ll ever run into that issue.”

“But not impossible.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a worrier?”

“It’s come up.”

Peter laughs then groans. “Okay, okay, well, how bout we look her up? Shouldn’t be too hard to find an address. Maybe even a criminal record.” He side-eyes you, “Maybe she’s your evil twin!”

You laugh and shove at him, “That’s not even funny.”

“Says the girl who's laughing.” He snarks while standing up to retrieve his laptop from his room.

Peter returns with laptop in hand. He plops back down on the couch and shoves his half-eaten food to the side of the coffee table to make room for his computer. He opens up a google tab and types in your name after confirming with you for spelling.

“Okay, let’s see.” He mutters, scrolling down a bit and clicking on the first site that includes your name. It’s a link to a facebook page- a memorial page. “Oh…” Peter isn’t sure what to say. There’s a photo of you, younger and smiling wide. Your hair’s slightly different but it’s unmistakably you.

You’re looking over his shoulder at the screen and you’re also at a loss for words. You clear your throat, “Uh 2015, that was what… seven years ago? I would’ve been eighteen years old. Wow, she died so young…” Your brows were furrowed as you thought about it. What are you supposed to be feeling? It’s not grief, really, can you grieve your own death?

Peter’s looking at you a little worriedly, not sure how you’re going to react. You’ve already been hit with a lot of heavy information the past couple days and this didn’t seem like it was going to help. “It says here she went to Midtown high, graduated the same year as me… I can’t believe I never met her. Or at least, don’t remember meeting her.” He says, feeling guilty all of a sudden. How could he have possibly not noticed her? You’re very difficult to miss, he thought.

“Does it uh- does it say anything about how she died?” You ask, more curious than anything.

“Mmm…” Peter scrolls a bit. “Yeah, it seems like it was some sorta accident. Oh.” He felt his blood run cold.

“What?” You ask, holding onto Peter’s arm. “What is it?”

“She died in the uh- the crossfire of a fight between Spi- uh- me and Electro.” His heart feels ten pounds heavier and suddenly your presence is feeling very surreal. He dares to glance over at you, but you aren’t looking at him. Your eyes are glued to the screen, but you seem far away. “Y/N?”

You snap out of it and turn to Peter. He has watery eyes and your heart aches for him. “Oh, Peter, you don’t think this is your fault, do you? Because it isn’t. At all.” You say, snaking your arms around his torso, trying your best to comfort him. “Sometimes people are just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I feel like I should be the one comforting you here.” Peter lets out a shaky laugh that you join in on.

“It’s strange, I don’t know what I should be feeling… I’m sorry that she’s gone and at such a young age, but I had no idea who she was. I mean, was she even anything like me? It doesn’t seem like she became Spider-Woman here…” You’re rambling on, not sure what else to do.

“No, I think I’d have known if she was.” Peter says. “You told me that you and your Peter were bitten at the same time by the same spider and that you worked together. I was always alone in this.”

“I wish I remembered. I wish I knew… I can only remember being alone too.”

Peter grabs your hand, interlocks his fingers with yours. “Not anymore.”

“No, not anymore.” You’re both smiling those sad smiles and Peter can’t help but to lean over and give you a kiss on your cheek. Your smile widens and you lean into the contact. “Thank you.” You say suddenly.

“For what?” Peter asks with that cute tilt of his head.

“Convincing me to come here and stay with you. I’ve always had a… difficult time accepting help.”

“Me too. But if I’m being a hundred percent honest with you, I didn’t do it completely altruistically…”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to stay with you. You made me feel… I don’t know- hope? That I could actually, maybe, be happy again. I never thought that I could feel like this again, not after Gwen.”

Your heart hurts for the boy in front of you. He’s been through so much pain, that much you had in common. You didn’t know what Gwen he was referring to, but you made it a note in your head to bring it up later. Right now, you just wanted to sit here next to Peter, holding each other contentedly.

-

That night you and Peter fell asleep together in his room, in his bed. You didn’t feel any pressure around him, just happy. It felt good to even be near him, but to have him like this? In your arms, quiet and warm, wrapped in a comforter while you drift off, was something entirely indescribable. He would place small, sweet kisses on your forehead and you would sigh happily before returning the favor.

When you closed your eyes and finally drifted off, your dreams were plagued with images of Peter. You saw him in the halls of Midtown High. It was filled with hundreds of other kids, but all you focused on was Peter. The way he skated through the crowd so he could get to you faster. And when he reached you, he’d hold out his hand for you to take. The way he smiled and laughed was music to your ears. He looked young and full of energy as he dragged you along all the way to the roof of your school. The air was crisp and cold when you reached the top and Peter was quick to steal a kiss from you, his hands caressing your face. You closed your eyes, but started smiling into it so wide that you had to break apart. Your foreheads touched and you just stood there, not sure for how long. Eventually you looked back up at him, seeing a dismal expression on his face. Your happiness was replaced with worry and before you could ask him what was wrong, Peter spoke.

“Wake up.”

[darkomoth]

Grief and Longing 2/4

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Your memory loss sparks a debate on what to do with you now

Notes: I don't know how many more parts there will be or maybe this will be the end? idk yet

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

The stranger is still holding onto you, his face is very close to yours. It’s hard to think of words, let alone say them, but eventually they come to you.

“Um…” You pull away from him slowly. “Who are you?”

The boy tilts his head, furrows his brows. It’s sorta cute. “What?”

“I said, who are you?” You take a step back to get a better look at him. He’s taller than you, messy brown hair and wide brown eyes.

“You don’t remember me? I mean- you don’t remember Peter?”

You shake your head. “Sorry, should I?”

You remember showing up in another universe. You remember fighting several villains, attempting to cure them and send them home. You even remember a nice young girl named MJ and her friend Ned as well as a tall wizard-man that assisted you through it all. What you don’t remember is this guy, apparently.

“What did you do?!” The boy yells over to Dr. Strange.

“It’s done. The spell’s been cast.” Is all he says in reply.

“Well fix it!” He says, clearly distraught.

Dr. Strange floats over to you both. “I can’t. What’s done is done, and it’s time for you both to go home.”

“But she doesn’t remember. She has no idea-” The boy says, desperate.

“It had to be this way. To fix the cracks in the multiverse. Everything is back to normal now.” Strange replies.

“Well, great.” You say with a smile, despite the shooting pain in your side. “Mission completed, right? So I better be off then.” You turn to the boy, who’s name you now assume is Peter, staring at you in bewilderment. “Good to meet you… I think?”

He pulls Strange off to the side, out of your ear-shot. “No no no, wait, she can’t stay like this.” He says in a quick, hushed voice.

“Y/N’s fine, I promise you. There will be no other side effects. In fact, I believe she should be better now.” Strange says, eyeing you while speaking to the boy.

“Better?”

“She has no memory of Peter. Not of being friends with him, not of falling in love with him, and not of his death. She’s free of her guilt now.”

Peter is silent for a moment. Is this what’s best for her? Is this also him technically getting what he wished for? Both of them having to start from scratch? But- no! It isn’t fair to her. Y/N didn’t choose this, she would never ask for this. He knows he wouldn’t.

“If you can’t fix it then… then let her come with me. Back to my universe.” Peter says.

“That’s not how it works-”

“If we all could get to this universe, then why can’t she come to mine?” He’s practically begging.

“Because she will be stuck there.” Strange replies, as calmly as possible. “If where you come from truly doesn’t have any magic then there will be no one to send her home.”

Peter’s at a loss for words. He hadn’t really thought of that. Deep down though, he selfishly didn’t care. He had to help her remember.

“Let’s let Y/N decide, then.” Peter says.

Strange gives him a pointed look, but ultimately concedes. “Very well.” They walk back over to you finally. You were starting to think they forgot about you.

“What’s up? You’re both looking very gloomy.” You say, attempting to keep the mood light. It’s not working.

Strange and Peter exchange a look. “I want to help you regain your memory.” Peter says.

“Uh… I don’t think that’s really necessary-”

Peter cuts you off, “You only think that because you can’t remember. Please, I just-” He sighs. “I just want to help you.”

You’re silent for a moment while you think it over. “Help how?”

“You would have to go with Peter, back to his universe.” Strange chimes in.

You look between the two of them with skepticism. “I couldn’t- I mean, well I have responsibilities back home. People.”

Peter’s heart drops. “People? A significant other?” He asks before he can stop himself. He hadn’t asked earlier if you had someone, he just assumed you didn’t- like him. Now he felt naive.

“No, not like that…” You say, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. Why is this guy interrogating you about your love life? Not that you’ve ever had much of one.

Peter lets out a breath of relief, “Oh. Then… please, just consider it? There’s a lot you don’t know and if I were in your position I know I would have to find out the truth.”

You don’t know what to think. You didn’t feel any different. But then, how would you know? Peter was right, of course. You were curious about this whole situation and about him. Were you two close? Just how close were you? You felt very conflicted.

“You’ll have to decide now.” Dr. Strange says suddenly. “The multiverse is closing.”

You paced for a few seconds, wringing your hands together, a nervous habit you had. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Peter asks.

“Okay, I’ll go with you.” You say.

Peter’s face lights up. He smiles and grabs your hand, “Thank you! Thank you, you won’t regret this, I promise.”

“I hope not.” You reply, suddenly feeling very nervous with this boy so close.

“Farewell.” Is all Dr. Strange has to say before you’re teleported somewhere new.

-

It’s Queens. You’re back in Queens and everything looks just about the same. A few things were off, but nothing very noticeable.

“Home sweet home.” Peter says. He’s still got your hand gripped firmly in his. He seems to notice that and shyly pulls away. “O-okay, so, we’ll go back to my place and uh… figure it out from there?”

“Sounds good.” You smile to try and ease the tension. With each step, your torso hurts more and more. Connor’s got a good swipe at you earlier, but luckily you weren’t still bleeding.

“No way.” You say under your breath as you approach the front door to Peter’s apartment. It’s your apartment. Like, the exact same. It could have been a coincidence? This guy could totally have just so happened to live in the same room, in the same apartment complex, in the same part of the city as you in your universe… right? Unlikely.

“What?” Peter asks, unlocking the front door and opening it for you. You step inside and look around. Fortunately the inside is pretty different from yours, decor-wise.

“Nothing- it’s just. This is exactly where I live back home.”

Peter looks at you in shock. Did that mean… did you and your Peter live together? He thought it best to keep that bit of information to himself for now. He didn’t want to completely freak you out in the first ten minutes of you being here.

“Huh, weird.” Was all he offered in response. “You want something to eat or drink? Maybe we should get you some new clothes. You didn’t really get the chance to pack.”

“Oh, right.” You said. You were still in your spider-suit, covered only by your favorite black denim jacket. As you start to take it off, Peter notices the red stains.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot about that!” He says hurriedly while rushing over to you. He wraps a hand around your wrist and leads you to his couch. “Here, sit down, I’m gonna go get the first aid kit.”

You sit down, “I’m really okay- I don’t think it’s even bleeding anymore.” You say, trying to calm him, but you may as well have been talking to yourself. Peter was back in less than a minute, his arms full of medical supplies, which he places on the coffee table in front of you.

“Still need to clean and wrap it. Uh… I’ll just- I’ll grab you some clothes of mine to borrow for now so that I can- yeah.” Peter says before walking down the small hallway to his room. He’s cute, you thought. Kinda awkward, definitely weird, but cute. The thought made you smile to yourself. You can’t remember ever feeling like this before, so then why does it feel so… familiar? Before you can think on it much longer, Peter’s back again, handing you a shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“It might be a bit big on you, but uh I promise it’s temporary. We can go shopping today, actually, if you’d like. There’s a nice thrift shop just around the corner, u-unless you wanna go somewhere else, but I don’t actually have a car, so.” He’s rambling and scratching his head and not looking you in the eyes and it’s all very adorable.

“No problem.” You say, “Thanks for this, I’m gonna go change.”

As soon as you’re out of eye sight, Peter lets out a long breath. “What is wrong with me?” He whispers to himself in annoyance.

You get changed in your- his- bathroom. The clothes smell nice, like fabric softener and something distinctly Peter. You smile as you pull the white T-shirt over your head, wincing as it touches the wound on your side. Peter was right, it is too big on you. The gray sweatpants are easily held up with the string ties, fortunately, but the shirt hangs off you awkwardly. You lift it a little to check yourself out in the mirror. It’s not so bad, you think. Could’ve been a lot worse.

When you return to the living room, Peter’s sitting on the couch, bouncing his knee. He pats the spot next to him and you take that as your cue to sit there.

“Okay, just need to put some rubbing alcohol on it and then bandage it, shouldn’t take long.” Peter says, but he seems nervous.

“Right.” You say, lifting up the shirt just enough for Peter to get a clear view. There are three long gashes, red and raw. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and douses some cotton balls with the alcohol. He pauses before he reaches you.

“This is gonna hurt.” Peter says, apologetically.

“I know.” You give a small smile to let him know it’s okay. You’ve had to patch yourself up many, many, times before this.

Peter nods, then gingerly he wipes at your injury. You wince, sucking in a breath. He looks at you and mutters a soft ‘sorry’ before continuing his soft brushing.

Peter tries his best to focus on the wound. He tries to push out the thoughts of you in his clothes, your scent mixing with his. His hands are shaky, but he’s trying his best to be gentle so he doesn’t hurt you. Peter uses his left hand to keep your shirt lifted, his right one working on cleaning you up. Your skin is warm against his hands and his face gradually gets warm too.

After a few minutes, all of the dried blood is wiped away and your gashes are disinfected. Peter places a couple bandages on you and uses medical tape to secure it. “It should be good for now. We’ll have to redress this at least once a day.” He says, putting away the supplies.

“Thank you.” You say, grateful but also slightly flustered. You clear your throat and readjust yourself, pulling the shirt back down.

“Anytime.” Peter replies, smirk on his lips. He stops for a moment and looks at you. “How’re you doing? With all of this, I mean. Leaving your home, being in a new universe… I’m sure it’s a lot.”

You nod, “Right. Yeah, it is… a lot. I think I’m fine though. If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t leave much behind.”

Peter notices a far away look in your eye. You’re not fine, you just didn’t know it, he thinks to himself. “What about the uh- the people you mentioned? Will they be alright without you?” He hopes to jog your memory, even a little bit, about your Peter.

“Oh, right…” You say, feeling caught in a lie and more than a little embarrassed. “Uh- I only said that so I didn’t seem completely pathetic. I mean, I do know some people. To be honest, they’re more like acquaintances.” You let out a weak laugh. “My parents died when I was ten, then I was put into the foster system. No home ever stuck though. When I was eighteen, I used my savings to get myself a small apartment. Worked a few different jobs, tried to do college at the same time, but that was difficult to manage, especially with putting on the suit every night. So, really, I don’t think anyone will miss me. Maybe a few dying plants on my windowsill.”

Peter listened to your story, knowing that it wasn’t the full truth. Somewhere in there, you and your Peter met, became friends, fell in love, most likely moved in together. He was all you had in your life, it seems. And now you don't even have the memory of him. Peter’s heart broke for you, though you would never have any idea. Not unless he figured out a way to get you to remember.

“I’m sorry.” Peter says, reaching over to grab your hand. His thumb brushes across your knuckles and you feel so… comforted. You didn’t think you needed comforting until now. You’ve always been on your own and that was fine. Probably even for the best, considering your double life. But now, here with Peter, you felt like maybe you’d missed out.

“It’s uh- it’s ok. Thanks.” The silence is heavy. The two of you are too close, the air is warm, and your heart’s beating uncontrollably. Peter seems to notice this as well because he’s soon on his feet, pacing around.

“Right! Shopping time! Let’s get outta here.” Peter rushes around, disappears for a minute and comes back in different, less dirty, clothing. You’re just sitting on the couch, waiting. “Ready?” He asks.

“Born ready. Lead the way.”

-

Shopping with Peter is fun. He gives you the grand tour of the Royal Thrift Shop that he frequents (often enough for the employees to remember his name).

Peter opens his arms wide as if he’s showcasing a prize and says, “And this is the hat section, for all your lice-related needs.” That makes you laugh.

“Don’t think I’ll be needing that, though I think this one would look fantastic on you.” You pick up a big, fuzzy, cheetah-print hat and swiftly place it right on Peter’s head.

He poses a few different ways for you, “I think you’re right, and so long as we’re picking garments for each other, may I just say this would be,” Peter does a chef’s kiss motion, “mwah, perfect for you.” He’s holding up a prom-like dress. It’s purple and bedazzled and looks straight out of 2004.

“Ah yes, of course.” You say, taking it from him and holding it up to yourself. “This is certainly my style, how did you ever figure me out so quickly?”

Peter laughs hysterically, “Ah, spider-sense of course.”

“Didn’t know that extended to fashion. Mine only works for life-and-death scenarios, not fair.” You say, pretend-glum. It takes everything in Peter not to lean down and kiss the pout off your lips. He shakes that thought out of his head. ‘We’re here to shop,’ he thinks.

“Life’s not fair, that’s for sure. Now let's get you some outfits.”

You and Peter spend about an hour walking around the thrift store, making jokes and picking out garments. You ended up with four shirts, three pairs of pants, a pair of shorts, two jackets, and two pairs of shoes. You both stop by another store for hygiene products and undergarments, he blushed and tried not to look at you while you perused.

“Think that’s it. Can’t think of anything else I may need except you know, the obvious.” You say as you and Peter are walking back to his place.

“The obvious being…?” He asks.

“Well- I mean, I’ll need a place to live. I need like, a job and money. I didn’t really plan this out, you know?” Peter stops walking for a second, making you stop and look at him. “What?” You ask.

“No, it’s nothing, I just- well I figured you could stay with me?” Peter says, unsure of himself. He hadn’t even considered you going anywhere else, actually.

You tilt your head, confused, “Like… permanently?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, really, but… yeah. Uh, only if you want, that is. I could help you look for a job, we could split the rent, it would be a win-win. Honestly you’d be helping me out.” He’s rambling and fidgety and the whole thing makes a small smile grow on your face. He wants you to stay with him. You never had anyone want you before. You were silent a little too long apparently because Peter only looked more worried, “Of course, if you don’t I can help you apartment-hunt, though in this city that could be difficult-”

“I’d love to stay with you.” You say, grinning. Peter breaks out into one of his own.

“Good, great.” He says. Then he reaches for your hand and you both continue the walk back to the apartment.

When you get there, another discussion topic pops up in your head. What exactly didn’t you remember? You’d avoided bringing it up this whole day so that you and Peter could get settled, but the not knowing was eating at you. Peter was in the kitchen heating up some food for the both of you in the microwave and you were sitting at the island counter working up the courage to say something to him about it. ‘Hey, so who are you to me, exactly?’ or ‘Why did you want to help me?’ or maybe ‘What’s your last name?’ Yeah, that’d be a good start.

“What’re you thinkin’ about over there?” Peter asks, beating you to it. He’s leaning back on the counter and you look up at him.

“Nothing, just… I realized I don’t really know anything about you.” You say. Peter’s face falls a bit at that, but he’s quick to hide it.

“Well, what do you wanna know? I’m an open book.” Just then, the microwave beeps. He pulls the leftover pizza out and places a slice on a paper plate and slides it over to you.

“Thanks.” You take a bite and think about what you wanted to ask him. “What’s your last name?”

“Parker. You?”

“Y/L/N. How old are you?”

Peter pulls up a stool so that he can sit across from you. “Twenty-five. I finished college, became a photographer full-time, made enough to afford this palace.”

You laugh, “You must not be a very good photographer, then.”

“Ouch.” Peter says, mock-offended. “Words hurt, Y/N.” His smile betrays him, though. “What did you do as a day job back home?”

“I was a freelance artist. It was a pretty solitary career, I spent basically all of my free-time at home when I wasn’t out there, swinging around.” You say. “You know, for someone who claims that I forgot them, you don’t seem to know me very well.”

Peter falters for a moment, not sure what to say. “Yeah, about that. The Peter you forgot, it uh- it wasn’t actually me. I mean, he’s me, but from your universe.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “So we never really knew each other? I just knew someone who looked like you?”

Peter debates that in his head, “Yes and no. We met a couple days ago, we had some uh- conversations. Mostly about your Peter and how alike he was to me.”

“Was? So, this Peter from my universe, I’m assuming he died?” You ask, more and more curious.

“Yeah… from what you told it seems you and him were… close.” Peter says, choosing his words carefully. The last thing he wanted was to put pressure on you.

“How close?” You started feeling a bit sick, your heart pounds in your chest.

“You told me that you grew up with him, that he was your best friend, and that it eventually turned into something more.” He says it slowly, trying to gauge your reaction. He can’t read you though, you’re staring off to the side, wringing your hands together in your lap.

It takes a minute for you to form words. “Uh so this Peter Parker, I knew him my whole life?” You ask. Though it seemed rhetorical, Peter still nodded. “He was the only person I had and he’s dead. And now I have literally no idea who he was.” The realization of just how much you’d had taken away from you crashed into you, hard. Tears welled up in your eyes that you tried to blink away.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Peter says, reaching across to grab your hand. The act is familiar. It feels nice. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling-”

“I have no idea what I’m feeling.” Your voice breaks a little. “It feels like… like there’s a hole in my chest and I don’t know how it got there or how to fix it. Like I’m constantly on the verge of remembering something important and then it slips away. Like waking up from a really great dream that you can’t get back to. I want to get back to it but I don’t think I can. Not ever.”

Peter squeezes your hand tighter, his chest aches and he swallows his nerves. “If your Peter was anything like me, and you seemed to think he was, then I can tell you that he loved you very much. He would have wanted you to be happy, in whatever way that meant.”

A tear slips out and you’re quick to brush it away. “God, sorr-”

“It’s okay.” Peter smiles. It’s funny, the way you repeat actions without knowing it.

“Thank you for uh- for being honest with me. I needed that.” You say. Suddenly Peter feels a bit guilty. He hadn’t told you everything. Not the part about you believing Peter’s death was your fault. He couldn’t tell you that, could he? It wouldn’t help at all, he knew it wasn’t true anyway, and there was nothing you could do about it now. You didn’t need the extra grief. Truly, it was the one good thing to come from this whole mess. Well that and…

“How ‘bout we watch a movie? Get our minds off everything for a while?” Peter says, already getting up and walking over to the couch.

“Yeah, sure.” You try to compose yourself, but it’s tough. You just learned some pretty heavy stuff about yourself and it was only the tip of the iceberg. A whole person was erased from your memory completely. He apparently meant a lot to you and there’s no chance of you ever meeting him or knowing all the things you ever did with him. All the nights spent talking, the dates, and classes… All of it, just gone.

Peter noticed you still sitting at the kitchen counter, head in your hands. He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew nothing he said would make this better. Even trying to think of what he’d want if he were in your shoes was impossible. He thinks he’d be inconsolable. Peter hopes that’s not the case for you. He walks over to you and, without thinking about it too much, wraps his arms around you from the back. You startle a bit, but quickly lean into it. Peter rests his head on your shoulder, “Come on, let’s go.”

You walk with him while he holds you all the way to the couch. He wraps the two of you in a large, warm blanket and presses play on the TV. The movie’s some comedy, nothing you’d ever heard of. It does help to distract you for a bit. An even better distraction is the boy right next to you whose arm is slung around your shoulders. It’s dark outside and you can hear the pitter-patter of rain on the window. You never felt so at-home in your whole life. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to drift close, your head falling to the side, right on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter notices you nodding off throughout the movie. He doesn’t try to wake you when you eventually do fall asleep, he knows it’s been a very long and emotional day for you. His heart beats loudly in his chest when you lean into him fully. Your hair falls into your face so he pushes it behind your ear. Your lips are parted and your breathing is deep. He could just lean down, just two inches… but, no. He couldn’t.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispers, pulling you closer so that you’re laying fully on top of him now. Then Peter’s eyes close, he drifts off with a smile on his lips.

[darkomoth]

Grief and Longing 1/4

Major Spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home

TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You find yourself in a different universe, and as if things couldn't get weirder, your (dead) best friend Peter is there, and he has absolutely no idea who you are.

Notes: First post on this account, which I'll be using pretty much exclusively for writing I think. Lemme know what you think and I can try to do requests maybe?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You had no idea where you were.

Obviously, you were still in New York, right? The buildings made that much obvious. Except it wasn’t your New York. On every wall there were posters of Spider-Man calling him a menace. TV’s everywhere broadcasted a young Peter Parker, “alleged murderer” under his photo. But that wasn’t Peter. You knew Peter and that’s definitely not him, right?

Just when you thought you really were going crazy, a ring of light appeared before you (which didn’t help at all). There were people on the other side, waving at you, beckoning you to come to them. You looked around yourself, making sure they were actually speaking to you before cautiously stepping through. Then you were in a cozy home, surrounded by strangers.

“Uh… hi?” You said. “Who are you, what’s going on?”

“I’m MJ, that’s Ned.” The pretty young girl said, pointing at another kid in the room. Said kid shot a peace sign at you.

“Okayyy, that didn’t help.” You said.

“Sorry, I know this is strange, it is for us too.” MJ said.

You looked around the room and noticed two other men there. One was older, wearing casual clothing, the other was… it was Peter. It was your Peter Parker. You stood frozen to your spot, just staring at him in complete disbelief. His face- his hair, everything about him, completely the same as the day you’d lost him. His eyes make contact with yours, but no recognition crossed his features. He had no idea who you were. You forced yourself to look away. Your mind was running at a thousand miles an hour. ‘How could he be here? Why does he not know me? What the hell is happening?’

“Who exactly are you?” The kid named Ned asked.

It took a second for you to register that he was asking you that question. “Huh?” You pulled yourself from your thoughts. “Oh, uh I’m Y/N.”

MJ and Ned shared a look, “And are you…?” MJ trailed off, not sure how to phrase her question. You only looked back in confusion. “Are you Spider-Man where you come from?”

“Spider-Woman, actually, but yeah. Is that why I’m here? Did you guys do this?” You ask them, slightly more accusatory than you meant.

“What? No!” MJ said, clearly offended at the idea.

“There was a… mishap with Dr. Strange and our Spider-Man, they sorta broke the multiverse.” Ned cut in helpfully.

“Dr. Strange?” The older guy, who you assumed was another Peter Parker, asked.

“He’s a wizard.” Ned replied.

“Ned!” MJ shot him a pointed look.

“A wizard? Like magic? Magic is real in your universe?” Your Peter asked, clearly excited by the prospect. You were more so freaking out at the idea.

They continue to talk amongst themselves while you try your best to keep up. It’s difficult though with Peter in the room with you. You steal glances his way when he’s not looking. It feels like a breath of fresh air when your eyes land on him. He’s here. Alive. Smiling. Talking so fast and moving around excitedly as always. Only this isn’t your Peter. He’s from an entirely different universe and he has no clue that you know him. That may be for the best, you thought. He doesn’t have to know.

“Yeah, I think I know exactly where that would be.” MJ states. This pulls you out of your internal dilemma. You were half paying attention to what they were talking about. Guess it’s time to go find the ‘Real Peter’.

-

When you all arrive at the top of the building in Queens, the sight before you breaks your heart. He’s just a kid. Like you and Peter were when you guys first started out. He’s bloody and tears are streaming down his face and he’s staring at the three of you, distrust in his eyes.

“Sorry… about May.” The older Peter says. “I got some understanding of what you’re going through-”

“No.” The kid says, angry. “Please don’t tell me that you know what I’m going through.”

“Okay.”

“She’s gone. It’s all my fault. She died for nothing.” The words hit very close to home, and by the looks of the two other Peters, it did for them as well. “So I’m gonna do what I should’ve done in the first place. You don’t belong here, none of you, so I’m sending you home.”

As much as you would’ve loved that less than an hour ago, now you want nothing more than to stay. Peter, the one that looks so much like yours, is here. You don’t care that he doesn’t know you, only that he’s happy and healthy and getting to see that has added years to your life it feels like.

“Those other guys are from your worlds, right?” The youngest Peter asks. “So you deal with it. If they die, if you kill them, that’s on you. It’s not my problem, I don’t care anymore, I’m done. I’m really sorry that I dragged you into this, but you have to go home now. Good luck.” His finger hovers over the red button that would send you back home.

You see so much of yourself in this Peter. The anger, the sadness, it echoes between the two of you and most likely the other Peters as well.

“My Uncle Ben was killed. It was my fault.” The older Peter stated, making his young counterpart falter.

“I lost… I lost Gwen. My… she was my MJ.” Your Peter said. You stared at him, mouth open in shock. You know a Gwen, back in your universe. She and Peter weren’t friends though, they never even met one another. “I couldn’t save her. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on. Tried to… tried to keep going. Tried to keep being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man because I know that’s what she would’ve wanted.” He was on the verge of tears and you had to look away. You felt sick. “But, at some point, I just… I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter. I just don’t want you to end up like… like me.”

“The night Ben died, I hunted down the man who I thought did it.” Older Peter said. “I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted. It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to… learn to get through that darkness.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“It was… Peter for me.” All eyes landed on you. “My best friend. My entire world, really. He’s the reason I’m even here today. I loved him. And now he’s gone… forever.” You tried your best to keep a level voice, but it got shaky near the end. “I would give anything, my own life, to have him back.” You stole a quick glance at your Peter’s doppelgänger. The brief eye contact nearly broke you completely.

“I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart.” The kid says. “I can still hear her voice in my head. Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that with great power…”

“Comes great responsibility.” The four of you said at once.

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

“Uncle Ben said it. The day he died. Maybe she didn’t die for nothing Peter.”

-

At the highschool lab now, you and the Peters were coming up with a cohesive plan to cure all of the villains and send everyone home.

“Well, I got Connors. I’ve already cured him once, so no big deal.” Your Peter says.

“I can help. I fought Connors once before too.” You say. Peter nods and the two of you get to work on a cure.

You don’t know why you volunteered yourself to work with this Peter. Yes, looking at him brought you happiness, but it also carried a wave of sadness. Knowing that this wasn’t actually him. That your Peter was actually dead and gone. His presence is both a blessing and a curse. At some point the other two Peters had to step out of the lab with Ned and MJ, which just left the two of you alone. You searched and searched for something, anything, to say to him, but you mind was a total blank. What could you ever say?

“I look like him, don’t I?” Peter says suddenly, catching you way off guard.

You look up at him, eyes wide, “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me, on and off, all night.” He says with a small smile. “It’s ok, I don’t mind… I was just curious.”

You look away. It feels suddenly much more tense than before, you clench your jaw and think of how to respond. You considered lying so you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. Instead, it only takes another few moments for you to get the words out, “Yeah… you do.” You let out a sigh and drop your shoulders.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it or anything-” Peter is quick to comfort you. God, he is so alike to your Peter, it’s unnerving.

“It’s okay- I mean, I’m okay.” You cut him off and look into his eyes. “Uh I just- seeing you here, so alive.” You smile while your eyes fill with tears. “It’s nice. But it’s like seeing a ghost and I can’t quite bring myself to believe it.”

Peter only looks back at you, silent, waiting for you to continue. He knows what this must be like for you, how absurd and amazing and terrifying it is.

“God, sorry.” You say, wiping at your eyes. You’ve always hated crying in front of people, especially strangers. Though Peter isn’t exactly a stranger.

“It’s okay.” He says, reaching across the lab table to grab your hand. He brushes his thumb along the back of your hand. Just like your Peter would always do when you were upset. The action makes more tears come out. Again, he just waits patiently for when you’re ready to speak again.

“It was my fault.” You finally say. You gently pull your hand away from Peter, not being able to bear the idea of him comforting you while you tell this story. He only looks back with concerned eyes. “We were on a mission, a dangerous one, but when aren’t they?” You let out a humorless chuckle. “Uh we got separated. I let myself get distracted and he died on my watch.” You stared down at your lap, feeling numb. You’ve never actually had to say any of this out loud before. “I should’ve been right next to him. I could’ve saved him-”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You looked up at Peter who looked back, completely calm. How could he be? After what you’d just admitted?

You shook your head, “You have no idea-”

“I do, actually. I know exactly. I know what it is to lose someone. And to feel at fault for it. To wake up every morning, asking God why it wasn’t you. The guilt, the sorrow, all of it, I know.” Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke. You felt like someone just punched you in the gut extremely hard. “But I also know that I did everything I could. It took a long time to accept it. Because the truth is, it’s easier to not forgive yourself. It’s easy to carry all that weight and punish yourself every day for it. It’s difficult to accept that the person you loved is gone forever and that you couldn't have changed it. It’s difficult to accept that sometimes you’re just not in control.” He finishes with a pained smile that you try your best to reciprocate.

It’s silent for a minute while you conjure up the strength to say what you’ve been dying to say since the moment you saw this Peter. “Thank you, really.” You say. He nods. “Can I… This is strange… I know you aren’t him. But you also… are. I need to say something to you and then I’ll drop this and we won’t ever have to talk about it again.” Peter gives you a curious look and nods again. You look him in the eyes and take a steadying breath and clear your throat. “I am so sorry.” Your voice breaks but you continue. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. Thank you for the years of friendship you gave me and for saving my life more times than I can count. And I am so sorry for not being able to return the favor.” You break down as you say the final word, collapsing in on yourself, but also feeling like a world was lifted off your shoulders.

Immediately Peter is out of his seat and walking around the table to get to you. He wraps his long arms around you and you sob into his lab coat. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He says. The words make you cry harder. Everything you’d been holding in, every emotion you didn’t let yourself feel for the last however many years came crashing into you all at once. It was the release that you didn’t know you needed.

To finally be able to say it, not only out loud, but to him. To Peter. It was incomparable to anything you’d felt in your life. You didn’t know if you were crying tears of sorrow or joy anymore, probably both. Definitely both. “Thank you, thank you, thank you… ” Was all you could manage to mumble out, over and over.

You finally release each other when the last of your tears dried up. You felt dehydrated and so, so happy. You smile up at Peter and he returns it with one of his own. He doesn’t let go of your hand despite being back in his seat. “I actually… I have a question for you.” Peter says, a little nervously.

“Anything.” You state. You’d give him both your kidneys if he asked for them.

“What was… uh what was our relationship like? In your universe?” He asks, timid and polite. It makes your heart ache. You weren’t sure how he’d react to the answer, but you weren’t gonna lie to him.

“Peter was my best friend. Ever since we were kids. We grew up together. I knew everything about him and he knew everything about me. I sometimes felt like he knew me better than I knew myself.” You said, a small smile on your lips. It was nice, talking about him without feeling that crushing guilt. Peter smiled back at you. “Then we entered highschool… and I don’t know. Something changed. We both felt it. I was in love with him. Think I always was, I just didn’t know it… he confessed to me after class one day.” The fond memory made you smile wider. “He was so nervous, practically shaking and I didn’t even let him finish his sentence before I kissed him.” You started laughing and Peter joined in. “Oh, he was… he was my everything.”

“And did you both…? Well, how did you become Spider-Woman?” Peter asked eagerly.

“I assume the same way you did, bit by a spider. Well that was Peter’s fault really. He got bit first and then like the genius he was, he captured the spider and, thinking it was dead, handed it to me to look over. It bit me too and then ran away.” You chuckled at that memory. Peter joined in the laughter.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He said. You both knew it wasn’t him, but it felt good to pretend. To live in this moment and just be with Peter. Your Peter. “I wish-”

A few seconds passed. “You… wish what?” You asked him.

Peter swallowed and shook his head. “Uh, nothing, I was just gonna say… I wish I had known you. Back in my universe, I mean.” Your heart ached when he said that. You wished the exact same thing.

“Yeah. Me too.” You smiled a small, sad smile. “But hey! You know me now, huh?” You grinned.

Peter laughed. “You’re absolutely right, Y/N, I do know you now.” Hearing him speak your name made those long-forgotten butterflies pour into your stomach. Did every universe’s Peter have this effect on you? How was that fair?

Peter was looking at you. Really looking at you, like how he did in your universe. Those beautiful brown eyes that you swear could see right through you. “I-” He started, but never got to finish.

Suddenly, the rest of the team was pouring into the lab once again. Ned, MJ, and the other two Peters came back chattering amongst themselves and just like that, you were pulled back down to Earth. You excused yourself quickly, feeling hot all of a sudden.

As you were leaving the room, Peter stared after you, conflict running through him. Why was he doing this? Why was he getting to know you and connecting when he knew that all of you were being separated and sent home soon? You intrigued him. Your story broke his heart and he could relate all too well. What really bothered him though was that he knew next to nothing about you, and you knew every little thing about him. He wanted to know you as deeply and as intimately as you seemed to know him, or for you to not know him at all so you could both start from the beginning. It bugged him, the thought of having to start from scratch when you didn’t. He knew it wasn’t your fault, both of you were victims of circumstance.

His leg bounced with anxiety with you out of his sight. Logically, Peter knew you were right outside, probably catching your breath after that very heavy conversation, but he was still worried.

“You have someone?” Older Peter asked him. It pulled him out of his reverie and back to reality.

“No. I got no time for Peter Parker stuff, you know?” Peter said. That was only half-true. “Do you?”

“It’s a little… complicated.”

“I understand. I guess it’s just not in the cards for guys like us.” He said, though he didn’t fully believe his own words. In the back of his mind, there you were. Smiling, and laughing and holding his hand.

“Well… I wouldn’t give up. Took a while, but… we made it work.”

“Yeah?” He asked, more than a little hopeful.

“Yeah. Me and MJ. My MJ, she uh..”

“It gets confusing, huh?”

-

You were outside the highschool. The air was cold and it felt good against your warm cheeks. After what you’d just experienced inside, you really needed this brief escape. Seeing Peter and talking to him like that, it felt amazing. But it was also surreal. You tried to use your phone that you keep tucked inside your boot but of course there was no service. Most likely this universe’s satellites were different from yours, making your phone essentially useless. At least you still had wifi. You stayed outside for maybe 10 minutes before you heard The Peters calling for you.

“Look, this is where we’re gonna do this, okay? It’s isolated, so no one should get hurt. We draw them there with the box, it’s the one thing they all want.”

“All we have to do is figure out how we’re gonna get there.”

They talked for a bit longer, you were a bit zoned out. You started thinking about how you were probably never going to see any of these people again after tonight. You were never gonna see your Peter again. You glanced at him, but he was already looking at you. You looked away, cheeks flushed yet again.

“We’re gonna kick some ass.”

Your Peter strided over to you and grabbed your wrist to pull you over to the side of the room where there was a little more privacy. “Before we go out there, I just- I need to say something.” He was talking fast and it was making you anxious.

“Hey, it’s okay, whatever it is.” You said, trying to sooth him.

“It’s just… I want you to know I’ve really enjoyed talking to you today. And I wish that- God I wish we had more time for this.” Peter rambled on and a smile grew on your lips. So alike.

“I know. I feel the same way.” You said. He looked down at you, conflicted.

“Don’t die out there.” He said, no hint of humor in his voice.

“I should be the one saying that.” You replied. Peter nodded, he lifted his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“How about neither of us die, huh?” Now he smiled. It made your heart and head feel light.

“Yeah, I can get on board with that.”

-

“What are like, some of the craziest villains that you guys have fought?” Young Peter asks.

“Seems like you’ve met some of them.” Your Peter says.

“I fought a scorpion-man once.” You said, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, a scorpion?” Your Peter asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, big, green, huge tail.”

“Huh. I fought a… an alien… made out of black goo once.” Older Peter said.

“No way! I fought an alien, too. On Earth and in space.” Young Peter replies.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he was purple”

“I wanna fight an alien.”

It goes on like this for a while. Mostly you just watch them, three Peters and one brain cell between them, it seems. It’s very entertaining to watch.

“All right, MJ, heads up!” Young Peter throws the box at his friends right through the portal and they catch it.

Multiple fights ensue, but you mostly worry about that portal that doesn’t seem to be closing. After kicking Max down a few flights of construction, you rush over to Ned and MJ who are having a too-loud discussion on their current predicament.

“Hey, thing one and thing two, you gonna close the portal sometime tonight?” You ask hurriedly, not sure how much time you have.

“We’re trying!” Ned yelps.

“Try faster!” You say before you get a sharp slash to the side of your ribs. Doctor Connors is here, and has noticed the very open portal. You jump up before he has the chance to climb through it and shoot your web at his face. He loses balance which gives you time to tell MJ and Ned to run for their lives. As they run out of the lab and into the school hallways, you take the opportunity to trip Connors.

“Need the Connors cure, now!” You yell out.

“Be right there!” Your Peter yells back, but it’s a bit late. Connors is up and about, angrier than ever.

“Come here!” He swings at you, but you slip out of his way easily. You continue to shoot webs at him, but they essentially do nothing because of how strong he is. He lashes out again and gets a lucky hit to your head. You’re down, but only for a second.

“Y/N!” Your Peter yells out, seeing you flat on your back and Connors standing above you. All he can think is no no no no. Suddenly you’re up, you’re on two feet and you’re fine. Peter’s relief is nearly tangible. “Catch!”

Peter throws the Connors Cure your way and you easily catch it before bringing it down into Connors’ neck. The big green lizard is screaming out and flailing as he slowly turns back into a man. His sense comes back to him, and you let out a breath. Only 3 to go.

-

The night’s long, you and all three Peter’s are hurt. This Dr. Strange you’d heard about earlier finally showed up. The only one left to deal with is the goblin. The youngest Peter tries to kill him, but older Peter stops him just in time. You try your best to stay out of their way, you know this fight in particular is very personal.

When everything is said and done though, you guys won. You were able to cure all of them. And now it was time to go home. Peter and Strange are having an intense discussion about what that means, and it seems like you may only have the next few minutes.

“Peter.” You say, grabbing hold of your Peter’s hand. He looks down at you and smiles. Then he sees the blood dripping from your torso.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” His voice is strained and rushed.

“Hey, I’m fine. Okay? I’m okay.” You look into his eyes and try to keep him focused on your face instead of your injuries. You grab ahold of his hand and your heart is beating faster than when you were fighting. “I just need to say one last thing. Before we…”

Peter scrunches his eyebrows and opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.

“I can never thank you enough for what you did for me. Closure, whatever you wanna call it.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I can never repay you for that.”

“You already did. You kept your end of the deal, you’re not dead.” Peter says with a smirk.

You laugh and nod. “As did you. Thanks for that as well…” The silence hangs between them, Strange is in the middle of casting some sort of spell and you both know your time together is coming to a close. “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah…” Peter looks torn, like he wants to say something, but there’s no time. So instead he leans down, grabs your face between his two warm hands and kisses you. He pours everything into the one act. His happiness, sadness, grief, longing. You give it all back in return. It’s everything you could’ve ever asked for.

When you open your eyes, you see a stranger in front of you. He’s holding your face and you don’t know what’s happening.