#pays emily in violence and angst as i always do

[kjsnugget]

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Warnings: mentions of violence, lying

Summary: being the nurse of Diana Reid brough s lot of joy into your life while getting to know her son

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Spencer knew he would need help with his mother. He loved her so much and wanted her home with him. He would go to the end of the earth for his mother. She brought him into this world with love. Spencer felt the weight bringing him down managing work with his mother. He was thankful for Emily being so understanding and letting him take time off. He knew the time had come to get help when he felt himself starting to get frustrated with his mom.

He searched through many resumes and applications to find the perfect fit. He grew frustrated with anyone he hired quitting soon after their first week. He grew hesitant when a male nurse came for an interview. Seeing you he was surprised you had soft features. He started to profile you without hesitation.. he took note of the way you sat, relaxed and calm. He listened to your voice as you calmly and confidently spoke to him. He decided to give you a chance after Penelope gave him a clear background check.

From then on you showed up on time everyday lol to work. You were always on call when it came to Spencer and his mom. Due to his work sometimes you would be there in the middle of the night. You were always there when he called. Spencer was expecting you to quit after the first week, but you didn’t. You had patience and took your time getting to know Diana. She fought against you for a while until she started to trust you. It wasn’t until you sat on the floor with her and listened to her rant and ramble before comforting her and explaining what was going on. After that night she slowly began to love you.

Spencer and you grew pretty close over time. He would message you during cases checking in on you and his mom. When Spencer took his trip to Mexico and got arrested he immediately called you. You were devastated at him being in prison for something he never did. You ended up staying in his home with his mom while he focused on getting out. Some of his friends and team members would stop by and give you updates on his case. Once Spencer was transferred to an American prison you took his mom to see him.

Seeing Spencer in such a situation broke your heart. He was such a sweet person, had a good heart. Spencer was the light in the dark. He brought you out of the rainy days with his rambling and statistics. The team took notice of the fondness you two had for one another. To them you had brought Spencer out of his head. Spencer called you as much as possible while he was in prison, talking to you made him forget where he was.

He looked forward to the weekly visits you and his mom made. Spencer felt guilty not being able to pay you while he was locked away. He knew everything his mother needed was coming out of your pocket. You would constantly wave him off about the money. You weren’t going to take from him when he needed help the most right now.

It was rough seeing him go through so much during his time in prison. The crack in his voice when he told you what was happening and what he had to do. It broke your hard but you reassured him it was okay. When you heard from Emily they would be bringing Spencer home your world lit up. I light soon darkened when you heard the door burst open. A women entered the home, you were scared.

She began demanding to know where Spencer’s mom was. You were quite small compared to an average guy you knew she could easily take you. When you refused to answer it got physical. Blood spread over the floor, you felt your face begin to swell. Diana came out of the room after hearing the loud noises. When you understood the woman would take her you begged for her take you instead. You felt tears stream down your face as you pleaded with her. You couldn’t react in time before your body hit the floor. You lost consciousness everything around you went black. When you woke up you knew you were in a trunk. Fear burned through your body, you just hoped Diana was safe.

The team had brought Spencer back to his home. The car ride he was itching to see you and his mom. The ride felt like hours long. All he wanted was to hug the both of you. When the car had finally parked he sped up the stairs with his friends following behind him. Opening the door he didn’t expect to see blood spread everywhere. His home had been trashed, books threw across the floor, glass shattered, broken furniture. His mind couldn’t keep up with his body as he searched his home. Ignoring Emily telling him to wait he ran to his room where his mom sat. She sat on the bed her mind trying to process what had happened. By now her medication had kicked in keeping her mind clear.

Seeing Spencer brought her out of the trance she broke down in his arms. The fear she felt was released as her son held her tightly. He sighed in relief as he knew she was safe. His mind ran as he tried connecting the dots on whose blood that was. After his mom had calmed down it clicked.

He fell his world spin when he found out Lindsey had taken you. The guilt intensified when his mom told him it was supposed to be her. You had given your life to the hands of a murderer to protect his mom. He was coming for you.

Once it was figured out cat was behind all of this he had to play her game. He had a hard time focusing with the thoughts of you filling his mind. Cat of course caught on to him and his worry. She picked at him, getting into his head. After hours of playing her game he was growing restless his anger was getting the best of him. After talking to JJ and calming himself down he tried to think of what the answer could be. Once he figured it out the team found where you would be.

You had since been moved into the house as Lindsey set up the bombs that could kill everyone within a five mile radius. After what felt like hours you freed yourself from the restraints. Before she sat in her chair to wait you took your chance. Coming from behind you hit her as hard as you could. As expected a fight broke out. With what strength you had left you fought for your life. You fought until you felt yourself being pulled away. Feeling yourself being pulled away you started fighting again until you realized it was Emily.

She had forced you to see an EMT to get stitches as you refused to go to the hospital. She drove you back to quantico where Spencer was waiting for you. He paced the floor as he anxiously waited for you. Penelope and JJ sat with him trying to calm him down. It wasn’t until he saw you walk through the doors his heart started to slow.

He felt his world around him disappear as your eyes locked with each other. The feeling of a never ending high racing through him. Then his eyes focused on the bruises and blood taking over on your skin. His body moving without hesitation he ran to you and engulfed you in his arms. Falling into his arms you wept as he held you tight. Spencer couldn’t bare the feeling of you shaking in his arms as you cried. You had put his family above your life how would he repay you for this.

Time would eventually heal your wounds inside and out. Spencer knew you would never be the same after this traumatic experience. He stuck by your side through your healing as well as his mothers. The relationship between you two formed into a romantic one with time.

The team watched you two grow into a loving relationship. They knew they no longer had to worry for him as you two had each other.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Damaged: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Rossi hesitantly brings all four of you along to where the kids are. It seems like they know you're coming because as soon as Rossi pulls up to the house, Connie storms out of the house to you.

"Hi, Connie. I brought the team--"

"You need to stop this."

"Excuse me?"

"We thought that if we didn't call you back the last couple times you would just give up and leave us alone."

"I know that it hurts, but I'm only trying to make sure someone pays for your parents' deaths."

"We don't care anymore. It's been twenty years. We need to be able to move past it. Please!" she begs.

"I won't bother you kids again," Rossi says, his heart breaking in two.

"You'll stop it with the gifts, too?"

Gifts?"

"What are we supposed to do with a bunch of toys? They remind us of the worst day of our lives."

"I never sent you any gifts."

"If I could maybe see these gifts, please?" you ask Connie and step forward. "I just want to get a good look at them, and then we won't bother you ever again."

Connie sighs and lets you inside the house. If this will get Rossi off her back, then she will gladly present all the toys her family has gotten. Georgie and Alicia are inside as well, but they aren't as outspoken as Connie is to other people. All three kids gather all the toys they've received and place them in the living room. There is something familiar about the stuffed animals, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Is this all of them?" Rossi asks.

"That's all we could find," Georgie says.

"We threw a lot of them away."

"I wish you would have told me about this."

"We thought you were sending them. At first we kind of liked it, and then it just became a bad reminder," Connie sighs.

"These are very cheap," you mutter, picking one up.

"Where would you even buy toys like that? Or why?"

"How did you receive them?" Rossi asks the kids.

"They were usually left on the front porch at night. Mine was found in my car this time," Connie says. "There was a pickup outside the--where I work. I always thought it was you."

"What do you remember about the pickup?"

"All I saw was the shape and the headlights."

"Morgan, obsessional crimes are your specialty. What do you make of this?" Rossi asks.

"Well, there's two kinds of obsessional offenders that would send gifts to survivors. Sadists who want to make the families keep reliving the crime, or guilt ridden offenders, desperately trying to find some type of way to apologize. Sadists usually use something they know will remind the family of the person of the crime."

"These don't look like the kind of things you would send to inflict pain on someone," you say. "My guess it's guilt ridden."

"You know, they actually look like the kind of thing a child would send," Emily states.

"It's rare, but an unsub who feels this much guilt sometimes commits the crime unintentionally. They tend to be developmentally disabled with extremely low IQs. Generally, they're physically large and they're very strong. Strong enough to hurt somebody accidentally."

"Like Lennie from Of Mice and Men," you point out.

"Usually, they're assisted by an older relative, and it's almost always a parent. This parent rationalizes that the unsub would never try to hurt anybody. See, in a lot of ways, with this type of unsub, they're sort of overgrown children. JJ, when you get Garcia on the phone, tell her we're not looking for other homicides here. Get her to look into a string of less serious offenses in this area involving children, but not necessarily children that have been injured or abused."

"Okay."

JJ walks off to the side to call Penelope.

"With an unsub like this, when they seek out children, they want to play with them. They don't really want to hurt them. It's their size. It frightens people."

"That could be the piece you were looking for," you say to Rossi. "Give me another one."

The toys definitely look and feel familiar. You grab a few of them and close your eyes so that you're focused on the energy attached to them. Flashes of different images come into your brain, but the one you're focused on is of a bigger man with a painted clown face on. This man is seen with a bunch of these toys and some carnival rides, and you open your eyes when you've figured it out.

"I see an overweight man wearing a clown mask. He was at a carnival. I used to go there all the time with my parents. They would buy them for me knowing I would stop playing with them in a day. They're scratchy and uncomfortable to sleep with. Our unsub works at a carnival, and I know he isn't dead."

"We went to a carnival the day before. It's the last thing we did as a family," Connie gasps.

"Did anything happen?"

"No, we had to leave early. There was this... clown... that made me a balloon animal." All three children's eyes snap to you, but you encourage her to continue. "It didn't even look right, but then he kind of followed me around. He didn't really do anything, but my mom got afraid, so we left."

"You never told us that," Georgie says.

"I didn't even remember it until now."

JJ comes back with Penelope on the phone for all to hear.

"Okay, crime-fighters, I got the information you were looking for, but it may lead to more questions than answers."

"What is it?"

"There are files of open petty crimes, as described, in the very area of Indiana in the last twenty years. Here's the catch: a large portion of them only occur in the last week of March and the first week of April every year. Then it gets weirder because the same kind of crimes crop up in Springfield, Illinois, for the next two weeks, and then Des Moines, Iowa, in the couple of weeks after that."

"It's a traveling carnival. It's the only thing that makes sense," you say.

"Penelope, pull permits. Find out if this carnival is still in business."

She got that information really quickly, and it's luck that the carnival's last day in town is today. When you get there, they are already taking stuff down to get ready to move to the next city. Emily and Rossi go off in search of the owner while you, Derek, and JJ wander until you find something suspicious.

"I can't believe people actually pay good money to play these fixed games," Derek scoffs.

"Men," JJ corrects. "It's not people. It's men."

"I was just about to say that," you chuckle.

"Is that a fact?"

"Only a man would waste $50 trying to win that $3 stuffed animal."

"She has a point."

"Did you two go to carnivals as a kid?"

"Every year," JJ nods.

"I still go," you shrug shamelessly.

You look around at the workers until you spot someone you've only seen in visions. It's the same man who you saw when you were holding the stuffed animal. The same overweight man with a clown face painted on him. His eyes widen when he sees you as if he knows why you're here.

"Rossi, come here," you call out, turning away from the man. Rossi jogs over to you, and when you turn to face the man again, he's gone. "I saw the unsub. It's the same man. He's here."

"I trust you. Lead the way."

You take the lead and walk through the carnival, following the scared energy of the man you saw. Everyone has their eyes on you since you've taken out your gun just in case. The energy leads you to one of their rollercoasters with a long skirt that goes all the way down to the ground. You lift up the skirt to see the man hiding inside the ride.

"FBI," you yell at him.

"Daddy!" he cries in a child-like voice.

"Get your ass out of there right now," Derek demands.

The man kept crying for his dad, even after he showed up to try and help. Emily holds him back to prevent him from getting involved.

"Don't fight, Joey! Stay down!" the father begs.

Joey is taken away by the local police once they were called, and you can just feel the relief lifted off Rossi's shoulders. Rossi wanted to visit the children once more before he left, and you decided to be with him. Everyone else will meet you at the airport so you all can take the jet home.

With the killer behind bars, Rossi can safely tell the children that they can finally move on. All three of them were ecstatic that this happened, all thanks to Rossi who didn't give up. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves the key for the house they grew up in.

"The title should be delivered in the next few days."

"You're just giving us a house?" Alicia asks.

"It's the house you grew up in. It's been kept clean and maintained. It should sell for a decent price. You'll all get a fresh start."

"You don't have to do this."

"I think your parents would have wanted you to have it."

"Thank you," Alicia and Georgie say with grateful hearts.

"You're welcome." He reaches into his pocket and takes out the charm bracelet you've seen him hold from time to time. "This belonged to your mother. Your grandmother let me hold on to it until... well... you should have them back now. Well, my team is waiting for me."

"Agent Rossi. I'd like you to keep that," Connie smiles, and the other two kids nod in agreement. "Is it okay if I call you sometime? Just to let you know how we're doing?"

"Anytime, kiddo," Rossi smiles.

You and Rossi head back to the car and get ready to go to the airport to join the others.

"The power of asking really holds value, Rossi. How does it feel knowing you found your killer?"

"You found him. I will never doubt you ever again. You are the real deal," he chuckles.

"It's okay to have doubt, Rossi. You should never be afraid to come to me for anything because I might just have the answer you're looking for," you grin.

By the time you get back to the BAU, Spencer and Hotch were already back. You greet Spencer with a kiss because you've missed him so much.

"Pretty boy. How was Connecticut?" Derek asks.

"Ultimately uneventful." He sees Rossi and straightens up. "Sir, there's somebody waiting to speak to you in your office."

You look to Rossi's office and see Kevin Lynch standing there waiting for him. You look at JJ to see a knowing smile on her face, but you're not sure why that is.

"Agent Rossi. We need to talk... about Penelope... man to man."

"Man to man," Rossi nods.

"What about Penelope?" Derek asks as Rossi joins Kevin in his office.

"I don't know," Spencer shrugs.

"Garcia and Kevin, sitting in a tree," JJ sings, and you gasp with wide eyes.

"No way. Are you serious?"

"Just when I thought nothing scandalous was ever gonna happen around here," Emily chuckles.

"Scandalous? You should have been there when Spencer I first got together," you chuckle at the memories.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Spencer asks innocently.

"Didn't you hear JJ?"

"The song meant something? No, I missed it."

"How cute is he?" you grin and wrap your arms around his neck from behind while he sits on his chair.  You lean down and kiss his neck a few times before whispering in his ear. "Kevin and Penelope are having sex."

"Are you serious?" Spencer smiles.

He tilts his head back to look at you, and you lean down and kiss him Spider-Man style.

"The only scandalous couple here is me and Spencer," you say as you pull away from him. "I could make it more interesting and leave articles of clothing here."

"Of course you would," Emily laughs and leaves.

"Are you ready to go home?" you ask Spencer and pull away from him.

"Yeah."

"Good, because I want that rematch," you grin.

"There is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings." - Arthur Rubinstein

x

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[number-one-micoverse-fan]

“Beware the Fury of a Patient Man”

Quote by John Dryden

Dom’s on a mission. And he’s not going to stop until he sees it through to the end. Even if it costs him. Warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries, angst, gun violence, acts of violence against children

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Dom wrestled the gun away from his assailant and slammed the butt of it into the man’s head. Then he did it again. And again. And by the fourth time there was blood splattering hot and fresh across his hand and the man wasn’t moving.

It took a minute to catch his breath again, casting a wide-eyed gaze around him to make sure no one had come running to investigate the noise. But the yard remained dark and undisturbed, and Dom climbed to his feet, legs shaking, clutching the gun in his hand tight enough to make his fingers ache with the grip. He was already tired, his body sore and drained from tracking the van all the way out to the run down house outside of town.

But he wasn’t going to leave without doing what had to be done.

Breathing shallow to muffle the noise, Dom crept around the back of the house, his steps as light as he could make them on the dry grass. There were only a few lights on inside, filtered through grimy windows and barely lighting the night. None of the windows were open and Dom didn’t dare try them, expecting them to creak or at least make too much noise for him to safely enter. There was a sliding back door, however, and Dom pressed himself against the side of the house, squinting through the dirty glass to try and see what was inside. An empty dining area, cluttered with garbage and broken chairs, and what looked like a kitchen, cleaner but only just.

Dom bit his lip as he hooked his fingers into the door handle and carefully applied pressure. It stuck, at first, and then gave way with a low hiss and a dull creak. Dom froze, ears straining to listen for footsteps. When nothing happened, he eased the door open further, squirming through it, trying to suck in his stomach, his back scraping against the threshold. He thought about leaving the door open, making an easy escape route, but if someone noticed then it could spell trouble if they suspected an intruder was in the house.

There was muffled laughter from somewhere above him, the sound of floorboards shifting under foot, tangled with the dull buzz of a television or radio.

Good, they were distracted.

Dom didn’t know how many there were, but he hoped they were all in the room upstairs.

He moved quietly through the house, sticking close to the walls and trying to move only when there was an influx of noise. It felt like it was taking him hours to make his way towards the sounds, even longer on the stairs, and more than anything he wanted to charge down the hall and kick the door in like an action hero. But he kept his slow and steady pace, heart pounding in his chest, mouth dry, palms sweaty where he gripped the gun.

The sound of the television was louder, coming from a cracked open door at the end of the hall, blue light flickering across old floorboards.

Very carefully, Dom nudged the door open further, blinking in the brighter light of the room. His gaze swept over the room, searching. There was a television on an old shelf against the opposite wall, backlighting the three adults sitting on the couch, laughing and chattering to one another. Dom eased forward, trying to see into the shadowy corners, and the floor creaked under him.

He froze.

“Ey, Jamis, you get them beers already?” One of the men on the couch turned to look over the back of it towards the door. He frowned when he didn’t see his friend, but Dom, his mouth opening to call out.

Dom pulled the trigger.

Blood exploded out of the man’s skull and he went flying off the couch to crash to the floor.

The other two were on their feet in an instant, one of them throwing himself forward in front of the couch and the other diving over the armrest to roll away. Dom followed the one who’d jumped the arm rest with his gun, firing off a few more rounds, splinters from the wooden floor erupting where he missed.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn and he saw the first man scrambling to his feet. Dom aimed the gun to fire but his hand froze, finger brushing the trigger without pulling it.

Because as the man rose to his feet, he had someone else with him.

Cody.

The boy was wrapped painfully tight in duct tape, a piece pressed over his mouth, bucking against the hold of the man whose arm was around his neck. There were tears streaking down Cody’s face, his eyes wide and terrified, rolling wildly until they locked on Dom. Then he made a desperate sound behind the tape and Dom could only hear his son’s voice desperately calling for help.

It made white hot rage over power the cold fear in his heart.

But before he could move, the second man dived at him, knocking them both to the floor where they scuffled. The man sat on his chest, pinning him to the floor, and grabbed Dom’s wrist that held the gun, slamming Dom’s hand into the floor over and over, trying to get him to drop it. Dom snarled at him, using his free hand to try and claw at the man’s face. The man twisted away from him, taking a second to punch him in the face a few times until Dom’s head was spinning. He felt his grip on the gun weaken and a growl escaped him. His head darted forward and he sunk his teeth into his attacker’s arm as hard as he could.

The man screamed, trying to wrench away and beat him off. Dom took the opportunity to throw them both to the side, rolling over so he was the one on top, and tried to point the gun at the man’s head. The man struggled, shoving at Dom’s face and clawing at his throat, trying to strangle him.

“DROP THE GUN OR I KILL THE KID!”

Dom froze, head snapping around to stare up at the first man.

He was still holding Cody pressed against his chest, an arm around his neck. In the other hand he held a gun pressed against Cody’s temple.

The man under Dom shoved him off and wrenched the gun away, kicking Dom in face as he got to his feet. Dom felt his nose crunch and coughed as blood splashed down his face, eyes watering with pain.

“Shiiitt,” The second man hissed, checking the gun, “This guy killed Zach! And probably Jamis too, I think this is his gun.”

“Just kill him,” The first man lowered his own gun, but kept his grip on Cody who was still struggling and thrashing, “We’re gonna have to burn this place down anyhow, it’s been compromised. We can—OW! WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Hey! How the hell did he do that!?” The second man abandoned Dom and ran around to the front of the couch to see what was going on.

Dom took the opportunity to scramble to his feet, breathing heavily through his mouth. The first man had dropped Cody, who was now squirming backwards across the floor as best he could, and was more preoccupied by the second captive. Milo had sunk his teeth into the man’s ankle and wasn’t letting go, even when the man started kicking and punching at him. What was astounding was that Milo had clearly been gagged with duct tape too, remnants of it still clinging to his face. There was blood on his face too, but it was hard to tell if that was from Milo or from the man he was biting. The second man was pulling at Milo’s legs, trying to pry him off, but that only had the first man screaming at him to cut it out and pry the little shit’s mouth open.

Dom wasn’t going to let them lay another hand on those kids.

He launched himself over the back of the couch with a roar, shoving the second man down hard enough that he smashed his head into the shelf and lay on the floor groaning. Before the first man could level his gun, Dom snatched the one from the second man’s limp hand and fired. The bullet punched the first man in the stomach, making him stagger back. While he was recovering, Dom shot the second man in the head and scrambled to his feet to charge the first man, the last enemy standing.

But his opponent was quicker.

There was the crack of a gunshot and Dom felt something hot and sharp bloom in his side. Another one ripped into his shoulder and his arm dropped limply to his side. Dom ignored it. There were more important things to take care of.

He screamed at his son’s kidnapper, firing his own gun again and clipping the man’s leg. He dropped to one knee and Dom bowled into him, sending the two of them sprawling. Both of their guns flew from their hands. The man yelled and squirmed, punching at Dom, but Dom barely felt the blows, his one remaining hand clawing at the man’s face through watering eyes, blood, and wailing fists. Teeth scraped his knuckles and then his fingers found a fistful of the man’s hair. Dom clenched it, pulled the man’s head up, and slammed it back into the floor as hard as he could. His opponent shouted and his hands paused their wild punching, one of them remaining to claw stupidly Dom’s shirt.

Dom could only see red, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He lifted the man’s head again and, again, slammed it into the floor. And again. And again.

Distant pain wrenched in his stomach but he shoved it to the back of his mind. His only focus was on getting rid of the monster that had hurt these children.

He slammed the man’s head down again. And again. Again, again, again. Even when the body under him stopped moving, he kept mindlessly smashing the broken skull into the floor, blood soaking his hands and staining his jeans, his breathing labored and wheezing.

It was only a sniffling whimper that snapped him out of it.

“Cody…” He croaked, looking around.

The boy was curled on the floor, eyes squeezed shut, shivering and crying. Dom staggered to his feet, wincing and putting a hand to his front, only to have his fingers bump against the handle of a knife. Ah. He’d been stabbed.

Gritting his teeth, Dom pulled the knife from his stomach, choking down the pained noise that wanted to leave him as blood rapidly stained his already ruined shirt. Couldn’t let Cody know how hurt he was.

Breathing heavily, Dom dropped to his knees next to his son and put a hand on his shoulder. Cody started and pulled away, eyes snapping wide open.

“Sh, sh, Cody, it’s okay, it’s me,” Dom murmured. His touch had left a red hand print on his son’s shoulder. He tried not to think about it, “I—I’m going to cut the duct tape. It will probably hurt, I’m sorry.”

He slid the knife carefully into a gap and began to saw at the tape, first cutting loose Cody’s arms, then his legs. Peeling the tape off did make Cody whimper and fresh tears sprout in his eyes, but he took it like a champ. Dom was extra careful with the piece of his mouth and as soon as Cody was free, he threw himself into Dom’s arm, sobbing into his chest. Dom winced at the pressure on his wounds but wrapped his good arm around his son reassuringly,

“I’m s-sorry I didn’t come sooner. It’s okay now. You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe. Will you h-help me with Milo?”

Cody sniffed and nodded, clutching at Dom as the man shuffled across the floor to kneel next to Milo. The kid was a lot more battered than Cody, blood oozing from a split in his forehead where he’d been kicked, matting his hair, one of his eyes already swelling shut. It looked like he’d ripped through the duct tape on his face with the edge of something sharp because it had cut into his cheek, leaving it to bleed freely down his chin and into his mouth.

“A nail,” Milo explained with a feral grin while Cody picked the remains of the tape off of his friend’s face and Dom cut him loose, “It was sticking out of the floor a little and I used it to rip off the tape!”

“It’s probably infected,” Cody said in a shaky voice but he was smiling as he helped Milo to his feet. Dom smiled tiredly at the pair, leaning heavily on the wall as he stood up, one hand pressed over the hole in his stomach. There was a slice in his side, hot blood still leaking down his pant leg, and his shoulder ached something fierce, but it was worth it. The kids were safe.

“Let’s get outside,” He said weakly, making sure to keep a smile on his face when they looked at him. He followed them out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door where he sagged onto the steps with a sigh. The van was parked in the drive and he’d thought to take it and drive them home but he was too worn out now; probably wouldn’t have been able to stay awake for the journey. He reached a shaky, blood soaked hand into his pocket and tugged out his phone,

“C-Cody…need you to call…call…” His vision blurred and he heard his son shouting his name and then Dom fell into darkness and knew nothing at all.

———

He woke up in in a white room with tubes and wires attached to him and a dull pain throbbing distantly through his numb body. Sleep tugged at him, urging him to go back to sleep again, but Dom struggled against it as his bleary gaze roamed around the room.

Miranda was slumped in a chair behind him, asleep, circles under her eyes and her hair in the messiest ponytail Dom had ever seen. She looked beautiful. Like an angel in the white room.

He shifted slightly to call to her when he felt something warm and heavy pressed against him. He looked down slowly and felt instant relief and comfort and warmth fill him.

Cody was tucked against his side, cleaned up and with a few bandages, but looking none the worse for wear. His hands were fisted into Dom’s blanket, head against Dom’s chest, having squirmed carefully under Dom’s arm. His glasses were crooked; he’d probably fallen asleep with them on.

Dom smiled, very faintly, tiredly, and let himself relax. His eyes closed.

They were safe.

Everything would be okay.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (11/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: you know what's coming - the truth.

Warnings: angst, minor violence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: i listened to my favorite saddest songs while writing. be prepared. thanks for your kind feedback! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

JJ snaps you out of your thoughts. There's an expression on her face that you can't find the words for. "Y/N? What does she mean?"

You have to swallow. Your throat is tight and you can barely breathe, so you cling to her to keep from sinking to the floor. You can't take your eyes off the two in the interrogation room.

"What deal?" Spencer sits up straighter than he already does. His whole body is tense.

Cat shakes her head. "I thought you weren't here to talk about her or you."

When Spencer slaps the table with his palm, she doesn't even flinch. You do, the harder, and JJ's hands clench into fists. But you only notice this out of the corner of your eye. "What deal, Cat?" His tone is harsh, leaving no room for Cat's games.

She sighs. "Maybe you should ask her yourself. After all, she did come here with you, didn't she? I don't think she'd skip this dance." Cat looks past Spencer to the one-way mirror, straight through it, as if she knows you'd be standing right there. Her grin is crooked and ugly. "Come on, Y/N. You should know I don't bite. Not without notice, anyway."

You feel JJ's gaze on you as you enter the interrogation room without a word. You close the door behind you and out of the corner of your eye you notice Spencer looking at you. But your gaze is fixed straight on Cat. You stop right at the door.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N."

You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going on in Spencer's head. It's practically written all over his face. Again?

"Hi, Cat," you reply curtly. You feel like shooting her.

"I always knew you lived dangerously. But I didn't think you were stupid. Yet you were the smartest one on your team. No offense, Spencie." She says it like she's bored out of her mind, not like the whole situation could completely escalate in the next second. Spencer tries not to let on, but you can read the confusion on his face. "I guess I was wrong about that."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, involuntarily taking a step forward. Cat takes it as a sign to keep talking.

"I know you killed my partner in crime. Must have been quite a mess, I'm told. Shot right through the head. Kudos, Y/N. I knew you were smart, but you're also badass. Who would have thought." She raises her hand and inspects her filthy and chewed fingernails. Her gaze drifts to you without her moving her head. She looks at you through her eyelashes, which makes her look crazy. "Quite a pity about him. But he was really just my accomplice's boyfriend. So, not worth mentioning."

Accomplice? Boyfriend?

It only takes a brief moment for everything to come together in your head. Apparently, all emotion falls from your face, because Cat looks extremely pleased. "You didn't play by the rules, Y/N. And now someone else has to pay for it."

In three steps, you've crossed the room and pulled Cat from her chair. Before Spencer can stop you, you push her full force against the nearest wall, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. You press your forearm against her throat and she lets out a hoarse laugh. Her gaze mirrors yours. Fierce and unyielding. The pressure on her throat intensifies and she has to cough.

You feel big hands on your shoulders, yanking you back so that you stagger and bump into the table. For a brief moment, you want to fight back as you leap forward again to put a stop to Cat once and for all, but Spencer extends his arm to allow some distance between you. You don't look at him. Out of anger and out of shame, because this isn't you.

"What's going on here?", he finally asks when you've pulled yourself together a bit and he's sure you won't kill her the next chance you get. "What's she talking about, Y/N?"

Cat's look is challenging and you know full well she's not going to say anything. She's dropped the bomb and now it's up to you to make sure the explosion isn't too devastating. You look at Spencer and tears form in the corners of your eyes. There's no way to get around it. And he better hear it from you than from some crazy psychopath. You owe him that much.

"When you were arrested", you begin, hoping your voice doesn't sound as brittle as it does, "it was clear to me from the start that Scratch couldn't be responsible. When you were taken to Millburn Correctional Facility instead of protective custody, it should have been obvious to the others. It was no accident that they sent you there. It was too personal." You can barely look at him, which is why you stare at the floor. "It couldn't have been Scratch, but there was no one else who had a score to settle with you." Your gaze shifts to Cat, "Except for her.

I had no proof, nothing. But I was one hundred percent sure she had something to do with it. So I talked to Emily. She gave me the day off, and I came here." You suppress the urge to knead your hands, so you shove them into your pants pockets. Your gaze wanders back to the floor, though you'd like to look at Spencer. You want to know what's going on inside him, but you don't dare. "Cat denied having anything to do with it at first, but I didn't believe her. And then she made a deal."

"And that included?" asks Spencer. You have to swallow.

"She would get you out of jail, after all, she put you in there too. I knew you wouldn't make it through jail. And not because you were too weak, but because I knew there were some people there who wouldn't bat an eye to hurt a FBI agent like you. And I couldn't stand that, so I went for it." With each word, your voice grows quieter, though you try to sound as determined as possible. But the pain weighs you down and takes away your breath. You remember the visit then, and what it had cost you.

"And what did she want in return?" Spencer's eyes glisten as if tears have formed in them. He blinks once, and the shine disappears. "What the hell did she want, Y/N?"

You can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks Your heart is beating fast, like it's about to jump out of your chest. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for what follows. "She - she wanted me to leave you. Cat knew that prison could never hurt you the way I would if I abandoned you. If I left, with no explanation and no goodbye."

Spencer's shoulders sink and his muscles are no longer stretched to breaking point. You don't dare look at him, so you stare at Cat, whose grin has actually widened. Psychopathic sadist.

"Actually, Y/N was never supposed to come back either", she continues the explanation, but Spencer continues to look at you. "That was the deal. You weren't supposed to tell anyone about this and never come back, but you didn't stick to that. You thought if you killed the guy and I continued to be in here, you could go back home and get on with your life." Her grin disappears and suddenly she looks incredibly bitter. "Very reckless, if you ask me. My birdie knows you're back home, and as a warning, she left you a trail of dead married men. Apparently you got the message, after all, you're here. That they are dead is all your fault, Y/N. Because you couldn't stay away from your beloved Spencer." She looks from you to Spencer. "It's tragic, isn't it? She loves you so much that she took on all that pain just so you could get out of jail. How incredibly selfless of her. And I'm pretty sure you weren't exactly kind to her when she returned, were you, Spencie?"

Spencer and you can't look at each other, so heavy is the pain on your shoulders. All the anger, despair, and confusion that had spread through you since you saw each other again gives way to an all-consuming feeling of pressure that you can't shake. The only thing that can give you both some comfort is the clarity that has been created. Spencer now knows what really went on, and you no longer have to keep secrets from him. But the matter is far from over.

You look to Cat, but can't find the words. She's won.

You leave the interrogation room without looking at Spencer or saying another word. What could you have possibly said? JJ looks at you with widened eyes as you rush past her. She has her cell phone to her ear, probably talking to Emily, but calls after you, but you don't stop. The air in the building is stuffy and you feel like you're choking on it. Your heart is racing and you feel sick. You just want to get out.

"Y/N." Spencer's voice forces you to stop. You stop so jerkily that you almost fall. When you turn to face him, he's standing right in front of you. His gaze is hard. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know exactly what to say either.

"I can't, Spencer", you beat him to it. You want to turn and keep walking, but his hand curls around your arm. At the touch, you're struck by lightning.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

You should. Definitely. "She had the men killed because I returned", you whisper. "She killed them because I couldn't take it anymore. Because I wanted to be with you. It's all my fault, Spencer. And I'll take the consequences for that."

"So you're just going to leave? Without explanation and without goodbye?"

You don't want to leave, quite the opposite. You would love to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him and never let go. You want to tell him you love him, but you can't. "I can't stay, Spencer. If I did, she would kill more people. I can't be responsible for that. I'm sorry."

You turn away from him, but as you take a step forward, Spencer pulls you back, making you slam against his chest. Your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt as his settle on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His expression has changed. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he tries to blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, but they fall down his cheekbones. All at once, he looks so young. "Promise me you'll come back? Back to me?" One of his hands clasps both of yours, still resting on his chest. He holds them tightly, afraid of losing you again.

You smile weakly at him and tears come to your eyes too. Your smile is honest, but sad. "I will always come back to you."

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[the-bau-quinjet]

Anything for You

So, I got this idea in my head and I wrote it. This is not the first thing I’ve written, but the first that I finished. And the first that I’m posting. Sorry if it sucks. I hope someone out there likes it. Italics indicate past memories.

Summary: This takes place after Maeve. It sort of starts a month before Spencer goes back to work but then skips a year. Reader is the newest member of the BAU. Spencer lashes out when she tries to help him, but he doesn’t realize how much she can relate to his trauma. 

warnings: angst but also a little fluff, typical CM violence (kidnapping, torture, death etc.), dark thoughts about dying, I think that’s it

Word Count: 6218

 It is moments like this that make you rethink every decision that lead you here. You are on the jet on the way back to Quantico after a particularly rough case. The team managed to save the most recent victim, but only to discover three more hidden on the unsubs property. And to make it worse, they were children. Everyone on the team keeps shooting you concerned glances, worried that you might break. It’s only fair. You are still the newbie.

 You started at the BAU one month ago to the day. Your previous position was a desk job, but you were ready to get back into field after two years of endless paperwork. Not that the entire team knows you had been in the field before. Only Hotch knows. You don’t like to talk about it. You had gone so far as to cut Hotch off to prevent him from bringing it up on your first day.

 You are counting down the floors with each beep as the elevator rises to bring you to the floor that houses the Behavioral Analysis Unit. To say you aren’t nervous would be a lie, but that comes with the territory of starting a new job. Especially a job with one of the most elite units of the FBI. It’s hard not to be intimidated.

 The elevator doors slide open, revealing the all too familiar glass doors that lead to the BAU. When you were trying to decide if switching career paths was the right decision, you found yourself staring at these doors far more than you’d care to admit.

 You walk through the doors, immediately heading for Hotch’s office. He told you to meet him there first thing this morning. You knock on the open door to draw his attention.

 “Agent L/N, please come in.” He looks up from the file he has open on his desk.

 “Agent Hotchner, I would just like to thank you again for the position.” You have to stop yourself before you ramble on about how grateful you are for his taking a chance on you.

 “Please, call me Hotch. You’re new ID was just dropped off.” He says, handing you the plastic card to put in your credentials. You take a moment to admire the way your name looks just above the words “Behavioral Analysis Unit” before sliding it into the wallet.

 “I wish we had time for a more thorough welcoming, but we just got a case. I’ll introduce you to the team in the conference room.” He rises from his desk, you following behind him to a room already full of profilers. Of course, you already know of them all, but the introductions are nice nonetheless.

 “L/N, these are SSAs Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Jennifer Jureau and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” You shake hands with each member of the team as there name is called. “Team, this is SSA Y/N L/N. She transferred from violent crimes-” You know he is going to bring up your previous field work, so you cut him off.

 “It’s an honor to meet you all.” You smiled at Hotch, trying your best to get him to move on. Thankfully, you can see in his eye that he understands why you don’t want to relieve your past field experience.

 “Actually, that’s not all. Dr. Reid is on leave at the moment, but you’ll meet him when he returns.” You nod, taking a seat next to Derek. “Garcia, you can start now.”

 The memory fades and you try to ignore the concerned glances from everyone on the jet. Yes, you were the one to find the children in the back shed, but you have techniques to handle this. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. It comes with the territory of undercover work.

 You are more concerned with the wellbeing of one Dr. Reid. This is the first case you’ve worked with him, but it still feels like something’s off. Granted, you don’t know why he was on leave or how long it lasted.

 After everyone else is asleep, barring Hotch who is too focused on his reports to pay you any attention, you slide down into the seat across from Spencer. He doesn’t even glance up from his book.

 “Dr. Reid?” You can tell he’s stopped reading at the sound of your voice, but it takes him a moment to actually look up at you. When he does, you can see the sadness in his eyes.

 “L/N. Are you okay?” Of course he would ask you that. You’ve known him for all of 72 hours, but he’s still concerned about you’re wellbeing. The way your heart flutters at the sentiment catches you off guard.

 “Oh, um, I’m fine. I actually wanted to check on you.” He looks startled at that, but you just push forward. “I know we only just met, and I have no idea what you’re going through, but I just thought maybe I could help.” You can see the instant you finished talking that it was a mistake. He is clearly not ready to talk about his demons, especially with a near stranger.

 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ “No, you shouldn’t have.” His words are defensive more than anything. The words of someone who just went through unbelievable pain “You couldn’t possibly help me. Unless, of course, you’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the love of your life being murdered in front of you just to name a few. I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that given your work in violent crimes.” The sarcasm is obvious, with violent crimes being a desk job. He mistakes the tears that spring to your eyes as pity rather than understanding. He scoffs, going back to his book while you wander back to your previous seat, trying to control your emotions.

 Spencer doesn’t know about your time undercover. He doesn’t know you experienced all of those things. He doesn’t know about the scars that line your torso or the more prevalent scars on your heart. You try not to take it personally. You’ve had years to deal with your trauma. His is clearly newer. You tell yourself over and over that he’s not angry with you, but with the world. You just happened to be the first available outlet.

 When the others wake up, they assume your red eyes are due to the case. That you are finally breaking down after a month on the job. They offer words of encouragement and promises to be there if you need to talk. They stress how you aren’t alone. They all know how you feel. You simply nod, gathering your things before heading home. You can’t help but think there is one of them who knows exactly what is going through your head. It’s the first time you’ve cried over Cameron in three months, the last time being the anniversary of his death.

 -------

 The next year at the BAU flies by. You actually feel like part of the family, knowing you could talk to any member of the team when you need a friend. Well, almost any member of the team. You and Spencer didn’t click the way everyone thought you would. Ever since the conversation on the plane, you hold back when you’re with him. It’s not that you two avoid each other. You’re just more like coworkers than family. You converse when you need to, but don’t seek each other out.

 Nobody understands why. Hotch especially thought the two of you would become close. You can see why he would think so. From your brief encounters with Spencer, you can tell he’s been through hell. Hotch was probably hopeful the two of you might bond over shared trauma, act as an anchor for each other to know you aren’t alone. Of course that required you to share your trauma with the team, which definitely has not happened.

 It’s not that you don’t trust them. It’s just that the moment hasn’t provided itself yet. First of all, you can’t just casually bring up being kidnapped and tortured for government secrets with your fiancé who was then murdered in front of you. Second of all, something in you says it would crush Spencer. You can tell he clearly still feels bad about what he said to you that day.

 You two hadn’t talked about it. It was a year later, and you still hadn’t talked about it. You would think he forgot, but he does have a rather prolific memory. Everything was fine though. Mostly. He still seemed nervous around you. Or maybe you were projecting. There is something about Dr. Reid…

 “Y/N, can I talk to you?” You were honestly surprised to hear Spencer’s voice saying those six words. Everyone else had already gone home, even Hotch. You just wanted to finish one more file.

 “Of course, what’s up?” You try desperately to sound casual, to pretend like you weren’t just thinking about him. Despite not talking to Spencer all that often, you still have a massive amount of respect for him. Watching him work is incredible. You would expect most people with his intelligence to come off as cocky, but he is somehow still so humble.

 “I just wanted to apologize. For what I said on the jet. I was in a bad place, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have said those things, you were just trying to help me, and I threw it back in your face. Also, I’m sorry it took me so long to actually apologize. I just felt so awful, I didn’t know how to bring it up and the longer I waited the more nervous I became and” “Spencer,” he looked startled at the sound of his name. Granted, you normally call him Dr. Reid or Reid when you’re feeling more casual, but still. It’s his name, why is he so surprised you’re using it? “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. You were dealing with an amount of grief nobody should have to go through. I shouldn’t have tried to step in without knowing more about the situation. I’m sorry.” This is your chance. Tell him what happened to you. Come clean about it all.

 He just looks so… relieved. As if you had lifted a weight off his shoulder just by telling him you understood he didn’t mean it. Seeing the hope in his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to put any of that weight back on him. He had just freed himself, he doesn’t need your problems weighing him back down.

 You can tell he still feels bad, but maybe now the two of you can try to move on. Maybe you’ll actually become friends. Telling him that you have indeed been through all of those things would just bring all that guilt back. For some reason, there is nothing you would rather do than protect Spencer Reid from pain.

 So, you’ve resigned yourself to never telling anyone unless you absolutely had to. You convinced yourself it was a secret you could take to the grave. Nobody needed to know.

 Until one day, they do. And that day happens to be tomorrow.

 --

 “Hello, crime fighters. This one is a doozey.” Penelope walked into the round table room and immediately jumped into the case. “Three heterosexual couples in Plano, Texas have been killed. The details are on your tablets. Be warned, it is not a pretty sight. All the victims were tortured. The men all died of blood loss. The women were drowned after multiple non fatal gunshot wounds and other various forms of torture.” You tensed ever so slightly at the description of the crimes. Hotch shot you a concerned glance, but you waved him off with a slight shake of your head. You zoned out for the rest of Garcia’s description, deciding instead to focus on every detail you could learn from the case files on your tablet.

 “Wheels up in 20.” Hotch’s voice drew you from your focus on the files. “Y/N?” You looked at him from your seat at the table, realizing everyone else had already left. “If this is too much for you, everyone would understand.” You stand, plastering the fakest smile Hotch has ever seen on your face.

 “I appreciate the concern, but there is a job to do. And I intend to do it.” There is no malice behind your words. Only a fierce determination to catch this unsub before he can hurt anyone else.

 “Alright, but Y/N, please. Let me know if you need to talk about it. The whole team is here for you.” You features soften into a genuine smile before you respond.

 “Thank you, Hotch.” And with that, you exit the room. You grab your go bag, meeting the other agents by the elevator.

 The flight to Texas is long enough that the team’s discussion doesn’t prevent everyone from catching up on sleep. While everyone else is resting, preparing to start up again on the ground with fresh eyes, you are pouring over every detail again and again. You just need to know if it’s the same people. The same people who killed your fiancé. The same people who tortured you.

 It was a day like any other. You had just gotten to the bar you were working at as a cover. Cameron was working security, you as a bartender. The mission was supposed to be simple.

 There was a domestic terrorist cell operating just outside of Plano in Addison, TX. The leader was believed to own the very bar you had gotten a job in. You were supposed to gather intelligence, and report back. You weren’t supposed to engage with the terrorist cell. It was a simple mission.

 That day, the day you could never forget, started exactly how you expected it to. The leader was supposed to be meeting with his right hand. You were supposed to learn who or what they were planning to target. You still can’t pinpoint the moment you knew something was wrong.

 Everything was normal when you clocked in. Everything was normal when you served you first few customers. Everything as normal when you walked up to the table hosting the meeting and asked if you could get them anything. Everything was normal until it wasn’t.

 You remember waking up in a warehouse. Cameron was tied to a chair across from you. He was injured, bleeding from a cut in his side. It didn’t look that bad, but there was so much blood. How could such a small cut produce so much blood?

 You had a million questions, but couldn’t form the words to ask them. You’re mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Cameron looked at you as if he knew something you didn’t. You suppose he did, given that he was awake before you. But that’s not what concerned you the most. No, it was the look of pure terror in his eyes. Pure terror, mixed with… resignation? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he be giving up?

 Finally gathering enough strength to speak, you mumble “What happened?”

 “Y/N… they know who we are. I don’t know how they figured it out, but they did. They are going to hurt me to get to you. You can’t let them, okay? Stay strong. Everything will be fine.” His words are rushed. You have a hard time following them, as if the words drift into the air, only to enter your head in a different order.

 Before you have a chance to ask any more questions, you hear a door swing open behind you. You can hear the footsteps, but can’t turn around enough to see who they belong to.

 “Do it.” You know that voice. You know you know it, but you can’t place it.

 A man appears from your left. He stands in front of you, a mask covering his face so you can only see his eyes. “Let’s have some fun.” You’re ready for him to hit you. Or cut you. Or hurt you in any way. What you’re not ready for is him pulling a knife only to walk over to Cameron.

 “No” The word is barely there. You aren’t even sure you said it out loud.

 “Y/N, don’t tell them anything. Okay? I’ll be fine.” Cameron is looking at you with pleading eyes. You both know he’s lying.

 “Your fiancé here is a liar.” The man sneers, dragging his knife down Cameron’s arm. “He will most certainly not be fine.” With that, the man plunges the knife into Cameron’s stomach. A gut wrenching scream leaves his mouth as the man moves the knife around inside his body. You try to control your reaction, but tears instantly spring to your eyes.

 “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave your man alone.” There’s no point. Cameron would never forgive you if you gave up information to the enemy. He’s always been a loyal soldier. Either way, deep down you know he won’t live much longer. He’s lost too much blood. You are going to have to watch the man you love die. He’s going to bleed out in front of you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

 You are shaken back to reality after the jet has landed. You slowly come to, realizing you must have fallen asleep while you were looking at the files. You can’t get the eyes out of your head now. The last time you had a nightmare was 6 months ago. Although, this was more of a memory than the usual nightmares you have.

 “Y/N/N? You good?” Morgan is looking at you with concern that hasn’t been there since your first month on the job.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Just groggy.” You try to laugh it off, walking past him and jumping into an SUV. You’re supposed to go with Hotch to the precinct to set up, so you can avoid the rest of the team’s questions for now.

 You bury your head in the files again, trying to discern if anything feels off or if it is all too similar to be a coincidence.

 “Just answer the question. This will all be over.” Cameron is dead. You are staring at his lifeless body as the man tries to torture you to get the answers he wants.

 With all the strength you can muster up, you spit at him. “I didn’t break before and I won’t break now. Do what you want to me. You’ll never get your answers.” “Oh everyone’s got a breaking point. I’ll find yours.” With that, he storms passed you and out of the room.

 You try to inventory the damage he’s done, but it’s hard because he typically drugs you when he leaves. You’re too disoriented to remember everything. You haven’t heard anything else from the first voice, but you finally realized it was the owner of the bar.

 You are just about to drift back into unconsciousness when you hear a loud crash from somewhere in the building. You expect the masked man to come running back into the room, but instead you’re greeted with the face of the terrorist cell leader. He pulls you to your feet, mumbling about how this wasn’t part of the deal.

 You don’t have the energy to protest as he pulls you down hallways and through doors. He bursts into a large open room. It smells like chlorine, but your eyes are too fuzzy to figure out why. The lights just got so much brighter, and you can’t see. You keep slipping on the floor. The third time, you fall to the ground. Everything is wet. He’s kicking you now. No, rolling you. It all feels distant. As if it’s not happening to you, but rather you are watching it happen to someone. Like a movie.

 You hear the splash before you register the water surrounding you. You’re sinking. It’s actually quite warm. Like a comforting blanket tucking you into bed. The sounds of people yelling fade out as the water covers your head. You feel at peace as everything fades to black.

 Suddenly, the peace is gone. You can hear voices. They sound loud, but still distant. Like you are swimming and someone is trying to talk to you from above the water. But the ground is hard now. There’s loud bangs too, but you can’t figure out what they are. There’s no pattern to them, but suddenly they stop. Maybe you’ll never know what they were, oh well. You just want to get back to the peaceful darkness.

 Instead, you feel burning in your lungs and a pounding in your head. It feels like someone is punching you in the ribs. No. No. No. Where’s the peace?

 All at once, the burning liquid is expelled from your lungs and your eyes fly open. You try to spin around, to see what’s happening, but everything hurts. Your lungs are trying to fill with air. Your eyes are trying to adjust to the lights. You head is begging everything to just stop making noise. Then, darkness. It’s not a peaceful transition this time. It’s sudden, as if someone turned everything off.

 “Y/N?” The sound of your name draws you out of the memory again. You turn to see Hotch’s concerned expression. He’s parked the car outside of the station.

 You take a few deep breaths before speaking, trying to prepare yourself for what you never wanted to have to do. “I have to tell them.” Hotch nods with a grim expression on his face.

 “The team won’t judge you for keeping it a secret. We’ll all be there for you.” He tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. He’s too worried about you.

 “I know. It’s not me I’m worried about.” For the first time since you met him, Aaron Hotchner looks confused. It’s actually kind of funny. Although, your laughing sounds more delirious than amused.

 “Hotch, my first case with Spencer, do you remember it?” You shudder at the memory.

 “Of course. It was hard on both of you.” Your smile feels weak, even to you.

 “Well, I tried to check on him. I had only just met him, but he looked so sad. I wanted to take his pain away.” You can feel the tears coming, but you can’t figure out why. “He said unless I had been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the murder of the love of my life there was nothing I could do to help him.”

 You can’t bring yourself to look at Hotch. His worrisome expression will just make you feel worse.

 “You didn’t tell him.” The realization is evident in the lilt of his voice. Turning toward him, you try to explain, but he cuts you off. “He was listing trauma you’ve both experienced, and you didn’t tell him.”

 “Of course not, he would’ve felt so guilty! He already feels so guilty and he has no idea. We talked it out, you know. We were actually becoming friends, although it was hard to see from an outside perspective.”

 “You had me fooled. The two of you barely talk.” Hotch looks incredulous. You’ve never seen so many emotions on his face in one day, let alone one conversation.

 “I know. It’s still new. Honestly, it happened yesterday.” Hotch actually chuckles at that. “I think he still feels bad that my first impression was him yelling at me. He’s going to feel so guilty, and I just wanted to keep that pain away from him. He doesn’t need my emotional baggage on top of his own.” You can’t read the expression on his face anymore. You can tell he’s thinking something, though he doesn’t intend to share.

 “It’ll all work out in the end, Y/N. Reid is stronger than he looks. He’s been through a lot, but so have you. Let’s go catch this son of a bitch.” And the two of you exit the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

 Your nerves build waiting for the rest of the team at the station. Spencer and Derek are last to arrive. You were hoping to have a few more minutes to figure out how to tell them all about the worst moments of your life, but alas the time has come.

 Hotch clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. The conversations about theories die out as all eyes turn to him. “Y/N has a theory to share.”

 That’s one way to put it. Before you can back out, you jump right in.

 “The unsub was a for-hire torturer. I think he left the business and started killing for fun. A sadist. He enjoys the psychological torture of killing the one person you love more than anyone.” You can’t bring yourself to say another word. Spencer looks grief stricken. Everyone else is looking at you in confusion, except Hotch who is looking at you with sorrow. You can’t decide which is worse.

 “What makes you say that?” Derek is the first one to speak. He clearly doesn’t understand why you came to that conclusion. Plus, he’s probably confused that Hotch had to introduce your theory rather than just include it in the brainstorming.

 “Before I worked in violent crimes, I worked in the National Security division. I focused on domestic terrorism. We had a mission go wrong. It was supposed to be a simple, just gathering intel. Something went wrong and two agents were abducted.” You unconsciously decided to depersonalize the story. It’s something Hotch quickly caught on to, but what can he do about it? You just need to get the words out.

 “They were a couple. Engaged. The man, he died from three precise wounds to the abdomen. He bled out while his fiancé was forced to watch.” You’re grateful when Emily interrupts.

 “Did the woman drown?” The woman. You.

 “No. Well, yes. She was dead for 3 minutes when they found her. The cell leader dumped her into a pool in the building she was being held in. They caught him trying to flee the building. When they questioned him about a partner, he said he hired someone to torture the couple to get information. He didn’t know where he went. I think that’s the unsub.”

 Instantly, the team is theorizing. You stay quiet, listening. Where could he have hidden for this long? Were there more crimes in other states? Can Garcia look through unsolved double homicides that fit the signature? Before long, Derek asks the question you’ve been dreading.

 “Can we interview the agent who survived?” You’re grateful that he’s looking at Hotch when he asks. Spencer, though, his eyes haven’t left you since you started speaking. He knows. You know he knows because you can see the weight bearing down on him. You tear your eyes away from him when Hotch clears his throat to get your attention.

 “Y/N, can we interview the agent?” His tone is gentle. Hotch knows what he’s asking. Are you ready to tell them the truth? To share this pain with all of us?

 “Yes. You can interview her.” You are visibly tense, but Morgan is just confused about the interaction. Why would Hotch need to ask you for permission? Why does he sound like someone just kicked his puppy?

 “Great, when can she get here?” Of course, Morgan would ask the next logical question.

 “She’s already here.” Your voice is quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you.

 “What? Where?” He knows he’s missing something. It’ll only take him a few more seconds to put it together, but you save him the trouble.

 “Right here.” You gesture to yourself, eyes flitting between Spencer’s and the ground. The rest of the team didn’t hear you. They were still working out theories as you, Morgan, Hotch, and Spencer converse in cryptic sentences and brief eye contact. Spencer is frozen in place. Hotch was stressed for you. It’s never easy to share past trauma, let alone when you feel like you don’t have a choice.

 The realization hits Morgan so fast he almost falls to the ground. He rushes to you, pulling you into the tightest bear hug you have ever experienced. Morgan has become like an older brother to you. He always jokes about how he would beat up anyone who hurt you. You always joke right back about doing the same for him. He told you about Carl Buford a few months ago. It was also on a case. You would’ve told him everything then, but you didn’t want him to feel like you thought the two were comparable or that his trauma was somehow less important just because you’d been through some bad shit too.

 His actions drew the attention of Rossi, JJ, and Emily though. You weren’t an overly emotional person usually. Undercover work made you good at compartmentalizing, so you never really sought out someone to comfort you. The sight of you in tears, wrapped in Morgan’s arms threw them for a loop. You normally waited until you got home to go through your routine to decompress. It was easier that way. But right now, the thought of even looking at Spencer was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It felt weird, to be sharing such an intimate part of your life with everyone and still be thinking about him. You had moved on from it all though. You knew how to deal with it. Of course, you still love Cameron, but you talk about everything in therapy once a week so you won’t break down like this.

 You see JJ look to Spencer for an explanation, but he’s too busy looking at you with more pain in his eyes than should be possible. He knows how it feels to see someone you love die right in front of you. He knows how it feels to try and move on from being drugged and tortured. He knows how it feels to be alone in it all. What he doesn’t know is how it feels to try and help someone through that grief only to have your own thrown back in your face. That’s what he did to you. Albeit, unintentionally but he did that. And it is so clear that he feels awful. You wish you could talk to him, but Morgan is pulling you into a different conference room for a cognitive interview that you somehow agreed to in your state of shock.

 Hotch explains the situation to Rossi, Emily, and JJ. Spencer’s guilt only pushes further down on him when he hears it all again.

 He stares at the room you’re in through the class doors of the conference room. He hasn’t moved in the ten minutes you’ve been gone. He expected JJ to talk to him first, but he was surprised to find Hotch instead.

 “Y/N told me in the car that she was scared to share that story.” Hotch starts slow, trying to ease Spencer out of his own head.

 “I would be too. It’s a painful memory to relive.” Spencer responds with a familiar tightness in his chest.

 “She wasn’t worried about herself though.” Spencer’s head jerks up to meet Hotch’s stare.

 “What do you mean? Who else would she be worried for?”

 “You.” Hotch says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You being worried about him when you share your darkest memories.

 “Me?” Spencer practically falls out of his chair in an effort to sit up straighter. “Why would she worry about me?” Despite his genius IQ, he can’t fathom why you would worry about him in this scenario. If roles were reversed and he had to tell the story of watching Maeve die, he wouldn’t be worried about you. He slowly comes to the conclusion that he would be worried about you though. Now that he knows you’ve been through something similar, he would worry about you anytime it was brought up. Anytime anything remotely similar was brought up.

 “She told me what you said to her on the jet after your first case together.” Spencer falls into himself at the memory, his guilt pushing his shoulders down. “She said you still feel guilty about it. That hearing the things she has been through would push all that guilt back to the surface. More than anything, she wanted to protect you from more pain.” Hotch seems to know more than he’s saying, but Spencer is too shocked to profile him.

 “But, I, how would, but…” Spencer is muttering the beginning of every thought running through his head, but he can’t seem to form a complete sentence. “Why?”

 “You’ll have to ask her.”

 --

 Between your cognitive interview and Garcia’s sleuthing, the team find the unsub rather quickly. You stay at the station when the team goes to catch him. You try to protest, but Hotch, Morgan, and Emily stare you down until you concede. Really though, it was the concerned look from Spencer that convinced you to sit down and wait. The case wraps up quickly after that. The masked man ended up being Kyle Beckett. A classic sadist.

 It brings you more closure than you would have imagined to know he will be locked up for the rest of his life. You spent a lot of time in therapy trying to cope with the fact that he was never caught. And now, it’s over. You’re also extremely grateful you didn’t have to face him, although you would never admit that you were actually glad to stay behind. They can all tell though. They are profilers after all.

 You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu at all the stares you’re getting on the jet. It’s as if time itself was rewound to a year ago. You feel like the newbie again. Getting ready to have a heart to heart with Spencer. You’d be blind not to notice the parallels of the two situations when Spencer slides into the seat next to you on the jet after everyone else falls asleep.

 The silence is comforting at first, but quickly becomes unbearable.

 “Hi” You have a sleepy smile on your face when you say it. You are unbelievably exhausted after everything that happened. Too tired to fully conceal the emotions you know you have been denying. You’re always happy when you talk to him, even if the occurrences are a bit far and few between compared to other members of the team. “You look sad.”

 His mouth actually twitches upward at that statement, which you count as a win in your book. “You’ve been through hell on this case, and you’re still worried about me.” You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s too good at hiding his thoughts inside that big beautiful brain.

 “I’ve always worried about you. Ever since I met you. You just looked so sad and I wanted to make it stop.” You aren’t thinking before you speak anymore. Probably why Spencer suddenly looks so surprised.

 “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?” Now it’s your turn to look confused. How did he know that? “I may have talked to Hotch earlier…” It takes longer than you’d care to admit for you to understand what exactly Hotch told him. But still, you’re too tired to be bothered.

 “I’m sorry if that was weird for you. It’s just, after we talked about it I thought maybe we could eventually be friends or something. I didn’t want you to be sad again. I know what it feels like to be sad. I also know what it feels like to be sad again when you realize someone else is sad for that same reason.” You must actually be exhausted because it feels like you’re talking in riddles. “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I just mean, I didn’t want you to feel bad about it again. I didn’t want you to feel more pain” You’ve started leaning toward him, about ready to pass out.

 “You’re incredible. You truly are amazing. I don’t think a day will go by where I don’t feel awful for what I said to you, but maybe with enough time I can make it up to you.”

 “I would like that.” You smile brightly as you look into his eyes. They seem sad still, but there is a brightness there that wasn’t there before.

 Spencer doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he lets you lay down in his lap as you drift off, the soothing feeling of his hands in your hair lulling you to sleep.

 You wake up as the jet touches down. The memories of your conversation with Spencer bring a smile to your face. He looks down smiling when you shift in his lap.

 “Thank you” You’re not surprised he still feels like he needs to thank you.

 “I would do anything for you Spencer Reid.” You get up to collect your belongings, turning back only when you realize he hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

 “Spence, let’s go.” Spence. He likes the sound of that. Maybe, just maybe the two of you will be okay. 

[little-diable]

Trust - Aaron Hotchner

I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds lately, so I had to go ahead and write something for Hotch. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: the reader gets involved in a case that pulls her deeper into her dark past, now she’s a suspect, involved in the murder of her ex-boyfriend, will the team still trust her? Will Aaron fight for his one true love? 

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, abusive ex-boyfriend, violence, unprotected sex 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchnerxfem!reader

Word count: 4k

“The best way to finding out if you can trust somebody is to trust them” Ernest Hemingway

She was late. Not once had she been late to any meeting ever before. He instantly missed the by now all too familiar scent of her perfume that would linger in the air as (y/n) would enter the conference room, he missed the sound of her fingertips nervously drumming against the wooden table as he’d present another case. This wasn’t like her.

“Anybody heard of (y/l/n)?” Aaron tried to keep his voice calm, eyes nonchalantly wandering around the room, making eye contact with every team member. Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply she stepped into the room, hair slightly tangled in knots, hands tightly holding onto her bag, one didn’t need to be a profiler to tell that something was going on with her. “I’m sorry, I slept in.”

He almost didn’t recognize her voice, hoarse as if she had been screaming for hours, quieter then it had ever been, she felt ashamed, but he didn’t know why. 

Aaron had to stop himself from asking what was going on with her, forcing his mind to focus on the case, the dead body that had been found in the early morning hours, though something caught his eye. Some purple spots were lingering on her throat, (y/n) had seemingly tried to cover them up, though the makeup didn’t manage to hide it all. 

Bruises? Hickeys? A weird feeling began to spread through him, he had no business in digging deeper, should leave it, he could trust her. But his mind couldn’t help but begin to spin imaginary scenarios, would she cheat on him, even before they’d make their relationship official?

“Aaron?” Her soft voice ripped him out of his cruel thoughts, dark eyes meeting hers, she tried to reach for his hand, though he flinched away, reaching for his cup before she could touch him. The crease between her eyebrows got more prominent, she had to blink a few times, bile crawled up her throat, she felt awful.

It had been a rough night, she didn’t catch any sleep, was currently running on her twelfth cup of coffee. (Y/n) was officially worse than Reid.

“Joseph McQueen had been found stabbed to death around 6am this morning,” Garcia kept on talking though (y/n)‘s mind was no longer focused on her, he was dead? Shudders ran down her spine, skin littered with goosebumps, palms sweaty. He couldn’t be dead, not when she had last seen him a few hours ago.

The further her mind faded away the more suspicious Aaron grew, eyes wandering back to the dark spots on her throat. “(Y/l/n),” her eyes met his, pupils visibly dilated, she was hiding something, ”Morgan and Rossi you’ll drive to the crime scene.” He should have pulled her back, should have asked her what’s going on with her and the bruises on her skin, though he kept silent, too scared to face the truth.

Aaron couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

Even Morgan and Rossi seemed to notice that she was awfully quiet, not uttering a word as they drove through the busy streets, making their way towards a house she had been in one too many times before. “You okay sweets?” Morgan’s eyes met (y/n)’s through the rearview mirror, she quickly averted hers, scared that he could feel her pain, that nagging feeling that reminded her of all the things she had been going through.

She couldn’t look at the body, would break into tears before she’d be able to stop herself. Deep down she felt relieved, finally it was done, he no longer could hurt her, could no longer keep her awake at night. Not once had she thought that he’d end up like this, (y/n) knew that there had been quite a few people on his bad side, he hadn’t been a gentle character, not a man you’d willingly mess with.

(Y/n) did the one thing that instantly came to mind, searching for the file, the one thing he had been holding onto the night prior, playing another mindgame with her.

“Joseph, give it to me and I’ll be gone.” (Y/n) clicked her tongue, arms akimbo, cheeks burning from the heat that flooded through her. “Where would be the fun in that baby?” 

Disgust flooded through her, how she ever could have willingly spent some time with him seemed inexplicable to her. “Give me my file.” The yellowish file was the only thing she could hold onto, the last piece of sanity she clang to, like a life insurance that would help her in times of need.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He stepped closer to the fireplace, about to throw her file into the fire as a shot echoed through the night. Her gun fell out of her grasp, wide eyes stared at the gunshot in his upper arm, “you fucking whore.”

A dark picture frame caught her attention, she tilted her head from left to right, praying that nobody was watching her. If she’d be careful enough she’d manage to get rid of any traces she had left behind, hiding everything that would tell her family, the team, about her dark past. 

“(Y/n)?” Morgan stepped into the bedroom, not noticing the picture she was holding onto just yet, “anything worth telling?” She only shook her head, swallowing down another sob.

Before she followed Morgan out of the room she slipped the picture into her pocket, keeping it safe and hidden from curious eyes. Though with every step she took it seemed to burn itself into the fabric of her jacket, adding to the weight she carried on her shoulders, reminding her of her weakness.

The day had been long, with exhausted steps she walked up to her apartment as Aaron was sitting in his office, hand clutching his phone. “We found agent (y/l/n)‘s DNA on the body, the bullet in his arm got traced back to her gun.” The words rang in his ears, body not moving an inch. Had she killed him? Was the woman he loved more than any woman he had ever loved before a killer?

What was she hiding? What wasn’t she telling him?

Three strong, urgent knocks echoed through her apartment, Aaron was standing in front of her door, with Emily by his side. She stared at them for a moment, cleared her throat and reached for her coat, “I’m coming.” 

A shuddered breath left her chapped lips, tears blurred her vision, she should have confessed right there and then, should have told her friend and lover what was going on. Though her words died on her tongue, another deep secret she’d probably take to grave with herself.

She stayed silent. Didn’t say a word. The only sound that could be heard were her sobs, the cries that bled from her lips. With every pained cry his heart kept on clenching further, he was sure that he’d get a cardiac arrest every moment now. He hated to feel like this, in this very second she was a suspect, nothing more, nothing less, though Aaron couldn’t treat her like any other criminal, after all she was still the woman that held his heart in her hands.

“I think it’s time we finally tell the team.” Her lips moved up his throat, she was straddling his thighs, dressed in an old shirt of his. “Are you sure? It would certainly complicate things.” His hands wandered up her legs, moving around her to knead the flesh of her behind. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Aaron. I love you and I’ll do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

(Y/n) always had wondered how the suspects would feel as they were waiting for the agents to step into the interrogation room. Now, as she was one of them, a suspect apparently involved in a murder, she wished to never know this feeling.

Who would interrogate her? Aaron? Morgan? Maybe even Spencer?

The team must hate her, she was sure of it. (Y/n) couldn’t help but curse herself for not letting them in on her past any sooner, all of this could have been avoided if she had managed to overcome her fear of rejection. But now it was too late and she was the one to pay for her sins.

“You look awful sweets.” Morgan’s calming voice left her heart racing, wide pupils stared at him, “I feel awful.” He studied her, trying to find any explanation to the question that kept the team on their toes, but his mind was blank, could only picture her as the murderer of Joseph McQueen.  

“I’m sorry.” He whispered the words, as if he was scared that the tape would record something he didn’t want to share. Morgan was out of the room before she could reply, leaving her confused and lonely once again.

Hours seemed to pass by, she’d fall asleep any moment now, body exhausted from the past 48 hours. 

“How did you know him?” Aaron’s voice sounded rougher than it ever had been before, dripping with disappointment and anger. She didn’t answer, eyes staring at her hands, trying to stop her tears from streaming down her cheeks. “(Y/n)!” He growled her name, hands pounding against the table, her heartbeat picked up its pace once again, body flinching away from the man she loved.

“What aren’t you telling me? Why aren’t you saying anything? Did you kill him? Did you do it?” He was freaking out, not able to think rationally, another woman had played with his feelings, another person he had let into his life had fucked with him once again. “No I didn’t.” Now it was his turn to stay silent, chest heaving, jugular vein pulsing underneath the thin skin of his throat. “How did you get those bruises?”

“You shot me, you bitch.” He kicked against her knee, watching her crash to the floor with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Let go of me Joseph.” Her voice trembled, she was buried underneath him, body pressed against the scratchy rug, feet kicking. 

He had his hands wrapped around her throat, choking all air out of her lungs, “I should have ended your pathetic excuse of a life years ago.” Her ex boyfriend panted his words, wondering if he should truly go through with it, killing the FBI agent.

She could only think about Aaron, his soft touch, the voice she fell in love with years ago. He didn’t know where she was, didn’t know anything about Joseph and their past relationship. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, too many secrets she’d need to let him in on, she couldn’t die, not yet.

Aaron longed to pat her tears dry, wanting to pull her out of the room, telling her that everything would be alright. But he couldn’t trust her any longer, couldn’t trust the one woman that had kept him safe for years. She had been his friend long before they had shared a bed, had been by his side for as long as he could remember, though she was fairly younger. A part of his life he didn’t want to erase.

“(Y/n), you know how this works. I need you to cooperate.” She shook her head no, fingernails pierced into her palms, leaving wounds that would stay for days. They already hated her, she didn’t want to burden them with her past any further. A disappointed, tired sigh left Aaron, chair scraping against the floor as he rose from it, storming out of the room, she was a lost cause.

“This doesn’t add up, why won’t she tell us? Doesn’t she trust us?” Spencer paced the room, eyes switching between his teammates and (y/n)‘s file, looking for the missing piece of the puzzle. “Do we still don’t know where they met or how they knew each other?” The sound of Aaron’s quiet, broken voice coaxed a cry out of Garcia, she trembled, barely able to properly do her work. “No, I have nothing, she certainly knows how to hide things.”

Sunrays danced on her cheeks, her lips were pulled into a thin line, sunglasses hiding the black eye Joseph had put onto her face a night ago. She should have called for help, should have told the team as she was laying in the hospital, for the fourth time that month. But who was she kidding, those were her own problems to deal with, her own sorrows, nothing her team should waste their time on.

The day was long over, though none of them were thinking about going home. (Y/n) kept on uncomfortably shifting in her chair, thinking about her next move. She didn’t need a lawyer, after all she wasn’t the one who killed him, wasn’t involved in the murder. Would she need to resign? Leave the people she loved behind because a mistake she had made in the past?

“Morgan and Dave, go back to his house, see if you can find anything that connects the two.” While the agents combed through the house once again she was sitting across from Strauss, staring at the elderly woman, listening to the words she knew by heart. “I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen next, do I (y/l/n)?”

Morgan’s heart raced, gloved fingers searched through every bookshelf, every drawer he could pull open, desperate to find anything that would help them with her case, not giving up on their friend just yet. He didn’t understand why she kept quiet, didn’t understand who she was trying to protect. 

“Derek, look here.” Rossi was staring at a yellowish paper, a file that had been hidden beneath a few books, clearly stating her name. The further they read through the paper the more confused they got, medical records were listed on the file, telling them all about past injuries. It took them minutes to understand what the paper was about.

“What do we have on her?” Strauss's shrill voice left the team growling, reminding them of the ticking clock, they didn’t have much time left to explain what was going on. She was the only suspect, the only name on their list so far. “Nothing, she won’t talk.”

“Garcia,” Spencer combed a hand through his hair, rethinking his chain of thoughts, “pull up any medical file we have of her, check for any hospital visits in the past years.” Her fingernails left a clicking noise on the keyboard, eyes widening as she read through (y/n)‘s medical bills. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

“He abused her.” Morgan stumbled into the room, Dave hot on his heels, mind trying to process what they had just learned about (y/n), the secret she had kept hidden. She was ashamed, too scared to let them in, too scared that they’d leave her behind.

(Y/n) was slowly going crazy, feet whipping to the sound of her exhausted breaths, eyes closed, she’d pass out soon, her body won’t be able to keep this level of stress up any longer. The door got pushed open, she didn’t need to open her eyes to tell that Aaron was the one who stepped into the small room, she’d recognise his tread everywhere. “You should have told me, (y/n).”

No words left her, trying to drown out his voice, he was pitying her, staring at her with hurt clearly visible in his eyes. “We found this in his house.” It was her file. The one thing she had tried to rip away from Joseph, the one thing that had protected her from him. “Tell me, (y/n), what happened?”

It was late in the afternoon as she entered her apartment complex, tired from a long case. Though just as she wanted to unlock her door she noticed that the lock was broken open, somebody had entered her apartment. (Y/n) reached for her gun, slowly stepping into her home, checking every room, trying to prepare herself for the worst.

The apartment was empty, she was alone. Maybe she was too paranoid, mind coming up with cruel scenarios, things she had seen in numerous cases. But something caught her attention, her safe was open, she was sure that she had locked it before she had left for work. Panic flooded through her, it was gone. The one thing she had clang to, the one thing that had kept her protected.

Without thinking twice she stormed out of her four walls, running towards her SUV, she’d kill him, would rip him to shreds. 

She didn’t care about speed limits, didn’t care about anything but her file, she needed to get her hands on it, before he could destroy it. “Fucking open your door Joseph.”

She hadn’t seen him in years, had managed to cut him out of her life, in hopes of never having to see him again. “I was waiting for you baby.” (Y/n) should have shot him right there and then, ending his pathetic excuse of a life. “Joseph, give it to me and I’ll be gone.” He pulled her inside, locking the door.

(Y/n) clicked her tongue, arms akimbo, cheeks burning from the heat that flooded through her. “Where would be the fun in that baby?” Disgust flooded through her, how she ever could have willingly spent some time with him seemed inexplicable to her. 

“Give me my file.�� The yellowish file was the only thing she could hold onto, the last piece of sanity she clang to, like a life insurance that would help her in times of need.  “No, I don’t think I will.” 

He stepped closer to the fireplace, about to push her file into the fire as a shot echoed through the night. Her gun fell out of her grasp, wide eyes stared at the wound in his upper arm, “you fucking whore.”

“You shot me, you bitch.” He kicked against her knee, watching her crash to the floor with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Let go of me Joseph.” Her voice trembled, she was buried underneath him, body pressed against the scratchy rug, feet kicking. 

He had his hands wrapped around her throat, choking all air out of her lungs, “I should have ended your pathetic excuse of a life years ago.” Her ex boyfriend panted his words, wondering if he should truly go through with it, killing the FBI agent.

She could only think about Aaron, his soft touch, the voice she fell in love with years ago. He didn’t know where she was, didn’t know anything about Joseph and their past relationship. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, too many secrets she’d need to let him in on, she couldn’t die, not yet.

A scream rippled out of her, with one final push he rolled of her body, trying to reach for her once again. But she was faster, grasping her bag as she was running out of the house, file long forgotten.

Tears dripped down onto the back of her hand, before he could stop himself Aaron pulled her into his arms, chin placed on top of her head. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” (Y/n) clang to him, hands fisting the fabric of his white shirt, tears leaving wet patches on the crook of his neck, “I am sorry for not telling you.” He combed a hand through her messy hair, pulling her even closer, hearts slowly beating in sync.

“Can we go home now?” She mumbled against his skin, knees giving out, not able to keep her supported any longer. Aaron picked her up, carefully carrying her out of the room, she was fast asleep by now. “I’ll drive her home.” (Y/n) was his only priority, he trusted his team, knew they’d be able to work without the two of them for a while, worrying about her just as much as Aaron did.

He let her sleep for hours, working on his files as he kept on watching her, heart clenched at the thought of (y/n) getting hurt, Aaron couldn’t help but feel guilty, he should have listened, should have known that she’d never go against him. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, thumb tracing her cheek, waking (y/n) from her deep slumber.

She met him halfway, lips pressed against Aaron’s warm ones, hands reaching for his neck, pulling him even closer. “I love you.” Her words filled him with an all too familiar warmth, a feeling only she could wake inside of him, she was the one for him, Aaron was sure of it. “I love you too, I’m sorry love, I,-” with another kiss she shut him up, pushing herself into his lap, straddling his thighs.

The kiss grew more passionate, hands tugging on one another’s clothes, hastily undressing themselves. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His confession made her smile, lips moving down his throat, sucking on the spots that would drive him crazy, “you won’t, make love to me Aaron, please.” He flipped them around, front pressed against hers, knee tugged against her pulsing clit, slowly grinding against the wet spot on her panties.

She shuddered in anticipation, body tingling from his touch, he’d always known how to take care of her, how to make love to her in the best way possible. Carefully he pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her naked chest to his dark eyes. His boxers grew tighter, hard length pushing against the thin fabric, desperate to be freed, to feel her wrapped around him.

Aaron Hotchner was like a thunderstorm, crashing down onto her with as much force as possible, his touch was like lightning, filling her with electricity, every sound he made represented a powerful thunder that rolled through the dark sky. She was caught in a storm, drenched by his love and admiration, hooked onto his every move.

“Let me make it up to you.” His lips left a wet trail down her upper body, hands cupping her naked breasts, teasing her hardening nubs, touching her like she longed to be touched. “Aaron, I need you.” Impatiently she pressed her core against his knee, moaning into the dark room. His chuckle vibrated against her skin, hands moving down to her soaked through panties, pushing the fabric down her legs, “I got you love.”

With his arms wrapped around her thighs his head disappeared between them, tongue pressed against her wet folds, moaning at the taste of her arousal. Her fingernails scraped his scalp, urging him on to go further, to properly touch her. “You’re always so ready for me.” The praises lightened a fire deep inside of her, moan after moan rolled off his tongue, back arched off the mattress, god, he was an expert at this.

He pumped two fingers in and out of her, eyes hooked onto her face, watching his love slowly fall apart in his grasp. “Feels so good, don’t stop Aaron.” Though he would stop any moment now, he wanted to feel her come undone around his length, splitting her in half as he was making love to her.

The room was spinning, head pounding, he was moving fast, ripping his boxers off his body, length slapping against his abdomen. (Y/n) tried to reach for him, wanting to touch his soft skin, but he had seen it coming, pushing her hand away before she could feel him. They had already lost too much time, he didn’t want to waste another second, needed to bury himself deep inside of her.

No words could ever describe the sensation of Aaron perfectly filling her, length thrusting in and out of her as she gave her body to the man she loved. She could feel his every vein, every inch of his size, body reacting to the man that was hovering above her. His hands explored her body, touching her as if it was their first time together, cherishing every spot, every place of her gorgeous self.

Aaron could read her every expression, he was a profiler after all, though his profession didn’t play a big role in this. He loved her, knew her like the back of his hand, probably knew her better than she’d ever know herself. Wordlessly he picked up his pace, skin slapping against hers, length glistening with her arousal.

“I’m close.” His name bled from her lips, fingernails scratching down his shoulders, walls tightening around him. He connected their lips, tongues battling as her orgasm rumbled through her, leaving her breathless and trembling. “Oh fuck Aaron.” Her head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, face displaying an expression full of euphoria.

He followed soon after, heat spreading through her as he let go, collapsing on top of her sweaty body. “I should have trusted you.” It would take Aaron a long time to forgive himself, to let go of the guilty feeling nestling inside of his heart. But she had faith in him, had forgiven him for every doubt that had ever clouded his mind. 

She trusted him with all her heart.

Tagging some that might be interested: @savior-adriana @angelusviate​ @writethelifeyouwant​ @bwbatta​ @band--psycho​ @playboysbunny

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[another-fantasy-world]

Theirs, In Every Way Possible

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Pairing: Jemily x Fem! Reader, JJ x Reader x Emily

Summary: JJ and Emily thought that their life couldn’t get any better, until they met you. However, what happens when you aren’t completely truthful to them and the team who was already a family to you? 

Warnings: Canon Violence, Reader came from a serial killer family, Reader has so many traumas, Homophobia, Reader has trust issues and is very indecisive. Y/N might frustrate you. Major Character Injuries.

Word Count: 3816 words

GIF isn’t mine

This case is completely made up from the top of my head, so if there are any similarities in the episodes in CM, they were probably just carved in my brain. Also, this might be a little ooc because I can’t just seem to tap into their personalities just yet

I’m sorry, I tried making this as angsty as I possibly could, I’m still working on my angst.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were fairly new to the BAU, only working there for about 6 months, and yet you fit in really easily. It definitely helped that you were the sunshine- Penelope Garcia’s bestfriend and that Erin Strauss couldn’t bring herself to dislike you. But what matters the most to them is that fact that you were a genius. No, not like Dr. Reid genius. You understood the serial killers in a personal level, and you would often coax the weapon out of their hand and get them to submit and surrender. Of course, when they confronted you about it, you easily lied and they somehow accepted that. So much for being profilers.

You never really did know when you first started seeing the couple in a new light. Yes you liked them both. It never really mattered since you just knew that it would just fade away. It was already embedded in your brain that everyone eventually leaves and that being too close to anyone would only get them killed. You learned that the hard way. But that didn’t stop you from admiring them from the shadows. It didn’t stop you from smiling whenever they talk, it didn’t stop you from memorizing their features like they were about to vanish into thin air, it didn’t stop you from admiring how JJ controlled the media, or how Emily used that voice when she’s speaking to the unsub and it didn’t stop you from admiring how well they fit each other, how their hands fit like puzzle pieces, and how your heart clenches in awe when you see them cuddled up with each other. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself, you desperately needed to get away from them, but you also wanted and needed to be around them. God, you knew you sounded like a hormonal teenager. 

“This is Daryln Garcia, Ahron Balydyn, Abbey Banagher and Jehoushua Castiel. Their names are on top of the list of the recent chain of murders all over each state.” Garcia winced at the pictures that she had to present to the whole team, she never did seem to get used to it

“Some of these are from waaaaay long before, why only now?” Emily asks from her seat , which was coincidentally next to yours

 “The M.O’s are all over the place, which is why they didn’t connect the murders until now. The only thing connecting them are black sticky notes that are posted on the wall and on their body.” Rossi reads out.

“Where’s the latest one?” You ask, sipping your coffee

“...Los Angeles, California.” 

“Wheels up in Five.” Hotch concludes, as everyone gets up to gather themselves. 

After talking and discussing the case a bit more, You all decide to calm down for a few hours, and each and everyone of you set off to do your own things.

“Uh-huh, you’re staring at them again huh.” Garcia teased you through the screen.

Spencer was memorizing and rereading the case files,

Hotch was talking with Rossi, probably discussing the case,

Morgan has his headphones clogging his ears,

JJ and Emily were cuddling with each other as JJ munched on her cheetos.

You were currently seated away from the team, just out of earshot because you knew that Garcia would begin spouting non-sense. 

“Shut up...” You blushed bright red. “...I told you this once, while I was drunk and now you bring it up in every conversation that we have. It’s just a silly little crush, sunshine. It’ll pass.” You told her, playfully glaring at the screen, to which she laughed

“Sure, Gummy Bear. Keep telling yourself that.” She grinned.

When you were about to land, you hung up on your bestfriend before steeling yourself, You didn’t need to acknowledge the gut feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you most certainly ignored the growing headache that you have. 

 JJ and Emily certainly noticed you right from the start. The woman who had no experience in the field whatsoever is suddenly the finest one they ever seen. (or maybe that’s just because they were so attracted to you that they happen to pay too much attention) That wasn’t the only thing they noticed though: They also noticed the tiny change in tone when you talk to either or both of them at the same time, or the way that your head would be the first to turn when they walk in the bullpen, or the way that your eyes would quickly scan them from head to toe before you bury your face into the paperwork that Hotch gave you, just a slight hint of embarrassment in your eyes peeking out from the cover or maybe it was the way that you would breathe a little heavier and talk a little faster when you discussed the case with them. You weren’t painfully obvious, but they were profilers for God’s sake, they notice everything, especially if it’s about you. There was just something so painfully attractive about you that interests them so much. The way your hair flowed as it dances with the wind, The way you licked your lips since they were dry (They tried to get you to use a lip gloss or a lip balm but you fought them, real hard.), The way your body tackled unsubs who got into your nerves (They always had to change clothes after that...), The way your eyes shined when you successfully return and reunite families, The way your mind worked: How you analyze quick, How you look at things in all angles, How you tried to put yourself in the very scene, How you work so well with Spencer and How you always seem to know what to say, every damn time. Maybe it was the way you broke social construct just by wearing a suit everytime you go to work, or it’s probably the smirks you give them when you’re right about something and they were in the wrong. (It makes them want to pounce on you, but they restrain themselves, taking their frustrations out on each other in the privacy of their own home.) But what they hate the most, it how dense you are. At this point, JJ could send you a love letter and you would think that it’s a recent case evidence. 

"...This is Dr. Reid, SSA Prentiss, Y/LN, Morgan, Jareau, and Rossi."

“Right this way, we have arrested a prime suspect this morning.” 

“How?” You ask, lifting two duffle bags and setting them down to your designated table

“She was found lurking around the crime scene and a bloody shirt matching one of the latest victims in his backpack.” 

“Can we have her bag?” Emily asks, approaching the officer

“Yeah sure. Right this way Agent.” He leads her to somewhere while you trail Hotch to the interrogation room, only to freeze in your tracks.

“What the hell” you whispered under your breath, feeling the same suffocating aura when you felt like your past is catching up to you. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You hear Derek ask you.

“I can’t do this. I need to call Garcia. Excuse me.” You replied with a look in your eyes. Derek recognized that same look with Emily when she ran away, pursuing Doyle to protect the team, and he’ll be damned if he let’s history repeat itself.

“Nuh-uh sweetcheeks. I know that look. Tell me.” Derek grips your forearm gently.

“Derek. I promise I won’t run away. And if I’m not back within an hour, track my phone and my ring.” you assured him, pulling your phone out and hurrying outside.

“Garcia. Please tell me that my identity is still concealed.” You begged Penelope while you were stress smoking at the back of the precinct. 

“It is! I promise! There’s no way they would find you! through technology at least.” she ranted. You see, Penelope Garcia doesn’t do well with secrets, but you really needed her, and she understood that. Which is why your secret is the best kept secret she has, she hid your secret for a year now.

“Then tell me why my aunt, who might I add is an absolute psychopath, is in our major suspect list right now?” you panicked, knowing that your “family” has somehow tracked you

“It might be a coincidence, Gummy Bear. But I will look into it! I promise.” 

“Garcia. One more favor. Back up all my files, all of it. From my work laptop, my FBI files, my personal devices, all of it. Then delete them all. I’m going to use a disposable starting now. Pull up the GPS service for my ring, keep an eye on me at all times. I’ll be damned if I see more of my family.” You spat out, stomping out the light of your cigarette, before popping a mint.

“Consider it done. Don’t you think it’s time to tell them?” she carefully asks, knowing how sensitive you are.

“Thank you Garcia, And I will. Once the time is right.” You grumbled, knowing that it’ll be sooner than later.

“Y/N. Tell them before it’s too late. Please, for your sake and for ours too.” 

“I will short stuff. I will.” 

For days you successfully evaded interrogating your aunt, subtly helping them as much as you can without raising suspicion. You knew that this secrecy is going to be revealed soon

“Y/N. We picked up coffee for you.” You suddenly hear JJ behind you, Emily’s hand gently placing the coffee in front of you, her eyes filled with concern

“You didn’t go to your hotel room did you?” Emily accused

“...No” You dropped your head onto the files in front of you

“You need your sleep Y/N. You’re no use when your brain can’t even function.” JJ retorted, taking a seat beside you, with Emily by her side.

“...Fine. A nap on that sofa. That’s it.” You bargained, determination shines in your eyes

“Okay. Go.”

And then, the moment your head hits the arm rest, you blacked out. Only waking up to Derek’s frantic shaking of your body

“Y/N! Get up!” It was rare for Derek to be this panicked and scared, and that gave you anxiety

“What? What is it?!” You stood up, feeling yourself get dizzy my how fast you got up.

“JJ and Emily are gone.”

What?

“Wait- What do you mean- How long was I asleep?” You blinked

“Precisely 4 hours, 36 minutes and 56 seconds.” Reid blurts out from infront the whiteboard.

“What happened for fuck’s sake?” You sat back down, rubbling your head

“Hotch was about to send you in on a lead, but they both volunteered instead.” Rossi explained

“And no one sent backup?” You were angry, barely keeping it in, you were slowly regretting keeping your secret now

“No one knew until now, when JJ and Emily didn’t come back after an hour, Derek went after them, only to find this.” Rossi lifts up the black sticky note.

“Family for Family, Blood for Blood”

“Is it possible that Rayna Torres, is their relative?”

“ Call and Tell Penelope I said Yes.” You point to Derek, knowing that Garcia will know what to do. You’ll let your bestfriend explain, she’ll explain it better since your mind is fogged

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your face hardened, clenching your jaw. You rarely showed anger, or annoyance for that matter, so they didn’t know what to do when you stormed off in pursuit of Hotch.

You found Hotch in the interrogation room, silently observing your Aunt

“Let me talk to her.” You say, earning a nod from him

You stormed in, slamming the door behind you.

“Listen here, you little psychopath. Where are they.” His eyes widened slightly, Hotch didn’t expect you to be so hostile

“There you are. I was beginning to think that we got the wrong team.” She grinned, intertwining her fingers, her wrists still bound to the table by a handcuff.

“I am not in the mood for your games.” You deadpanned, gripping the table to conceal your anger

“Hmmn. You always did have your father’s temper.”

“WHERE. ARE. THEY.” You slammed your palms on the metal table, making a slight dent on it. Ignoring the pain, you glared at her hard

“You know where they are child. I know that you know where they are.” The devilish grin once again appeared on her face.

“If I step foot inside that warehouse, and they are not there, I can’t guarantee your head will still be attached to your shoulders when they prepare you for your casket. Auntie.” At that statement, you walked away with a surprised Hotch on your trail.

He treated you like his very own ever since you knocked on his door, crying your eyes out, ranting about your family. Of course he noticed the small slip-ups you accidentally let out especially when you’re drunk. But it was never enough to completely put the picture together. He knows that you treat him as a father figure. Which is why he can’t let you go in there alone.

“No. Absolutely not. You might die Y/N!” You raised your brow at him, the bulletproof vest never felt as heavy as it is now

“You’ve known me for 6 months, you’ve known them for years. Why are you picking me over them? You know that I’m what they want. You or any other person steps in though that door, they’re all going to be dead before they see JJ and Emily. Not to mention they might kill JJ and Emily too. Please Hotch. This is my battle. If I die, I die. I don’t want to live knowing I could’ve done something.” Those were your last words before you slowly walked to the warehouse door after getting wired.

“This really isn’t the best first impressions you could make on your future daughters-in-law. Father.” You spoke as you saw him pointing a revolver at her, at your Emily.

You almost collapse at their state. JJ’s beautiful blonde hair caked with dirt and blood, she was staring at you, shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lip is swollen and you could see multiple bruises forming. 

However, Emily’s state was much worse. Her eyebrow was bleeding, her knuckles are bruised, she has small cuts everywhere and you could see that she was struggling to stand up despite being tied by her hands to the ceiling

“This one has a sharp tongue daughter. i don’t appreciate it.” He snarled, now pointing his gun at you

“Last one who said that exact words to had his dick cut in half. Where’s my jerkwad of a brother anyways? How’s his dick? Still has my bite marks? Scars maybe?” You smirked, hearing your “mother” load her gun

“Disrespectful Bitch. Don’t talk to your brother like that, he’s better than you ever will be” She snarled, firing at your feet, slashing through your pants, making you bleed slightly, making JJ scream through her gag.

“Your aim’s getting rusty.” You pulled out both your guns, pointing them at you biological “parents” 

“And you’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Take it off and kick your guns to us. You know what’ll happen if you don’t” you gritted your teeth, taking off the vest despite the protests of Hotch and the rest of the team

“Happy?”  “Very.”

“Now let them go.” You frowned

“No. You see, since you do love them right?” Your father smirked, making you frown

“Yes. I do. I’m in the same team as them for fuck’s sake!” 

“No. No. That’s not just it. You love them in a different way as well. Say it.”

“...” Your mother rolled her eyes at your silence and fired two bullets to Emily and JJ, scraping Emily’s cheek and JJ’s shoulder.

You flinched, you knew not to show emotion, but it’s painful to see the women you love get hurt. 

“Okay! Fine! You want me to say that I love them? I will.” You gritted out

“Go on then, you know how I love my drama shows.” You glared at them, taking a deep breath in, watching them walk out of the room, a bright spotlight aligns itself on the three of you, It really is a sick TV show that your parents would love to watch.

“What they say is true. I don’t know if you noticed it yet. But I do love you, both of you. I really hoped that I could tell you over dinner, or a cup of coffee, but I guess life has other plans. Loving the both of you seems so weird, and unconventional, but who wants to be normal and boring am I right?” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, which they didn’t appreciate.

You moved your hand to their gags slowly, listening for complains from your parents, hearing none, your grabbed their gags and pull them down.

“Y/N-” They both started

“Shhh. Let me speak, you know I don’t have much time.” You smiled, implying that you wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“I notice everything. I do. I’m not as dense as you think I am. I just... I didn’t like the thought of you both getting attached to me. I love you both so much that I knew that if they catch up to me, I could die, or you could get hurt. And now this happened.” JJ shook her head as if to say it isn’t your fault.

“I love you both so much, I love the way you look at each other, often wished I could look at you both like that. I love the way you both force me to sleep then give me coffee in the morning. I love the way your brow furrows when you see a detail in the reports that displeases you, and then you’ll playfully glare at JJ and I when you notice that we’re laughing at you. There’s a lot more that I want to say to you, but I don’t have enough time.” you say, moving closer to them, tears staining their bruised cheek.

“I’ll see you in our usual spot in the coffee shop across the street?” You whisper to JJ, kissing her cheek

“I’ll be copying your move now.” You chuckle lightly, kissing her cheek

A slow clap rang throughout the room.

“Now that is a perfect drama and revenge.” You whipped your head around, only seeing your father. Pulling out your knife from your thigh, you run towards him recklessly, the screams of JJ and Emily’s pleads piercing your ears.

And then three gunshots rang throughout the warehouse, Derek kicked the door down, chasing after your laughing family. Your ears were ringing, you didn’t even notice that you collapsed from the impact. You couldn’t believe it actually worked. You could feel the sticky, red colored cornstarch mixture on your abdomen. However the growing pain on your shoulders prevented you from celebrating.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, the impact of the bullets on your abdomen radiating throughout your body, yet you can also feel the bullet that’s still in your shoulder.

“Y/N. Stay with us come on” Emily whispered, despite her being in a worse condition that you, She still has your hand in a death grip.

“I’ll be fine Em.” You reassure her through jagged breaths, JJ’s crying face invading your view made you smile too. 

The moment that Emily and JJ were free from their binds, they immediately limped towards you as fast as they can, both of them on each of your side, silently wishing that they had more time

“They only managed to shoot me on my shoulder okay? I’ll be fine.” You could see the confusion in their faces, which faded when the paramedics unbuttoned your stained white shirts, only to find another bulletproof vest and an empty plastic bag, previously filled with what they can assume was fake blood. 

Emily’s eyes widen, what you did was dangerous, and extremely risky. You gambled on a unpredictable mess and she wondered how you got Hotch to approve of what you did, only to find out later that Hotch didn’t know either.

You could only smile at them, feeling the drugs the paramedics injected take effect, slowly drowsing off. You were happy they were somewhat safe. You were also happy that you managed to stab your father in his arm. Even if your brother did shoot your shoulder from behind, you were still happy with how things turned out.

Almost regretting what you did when you woke up to a staring Emily, JJ quietly handing you water, before they both scolded you like there’s no tomorrow. 

However, after what seemed like ages of reprimanding from the older women, they both pecked your lips before asking you out on a date.

I guess it all worked out in the end.

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

New Life Pt.8

Word Count: 2,146

Characters: Derek Hale, Carol Lockwood (mentioned), Laura Hale (mentioned), Stefan Salvatore (mentioned), Zach Salvatore (mentioned), OC Characters, Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger, insecurities, violence but nothing too graphic

A/N: ---

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

You wrapped your arms around yourself, laying down on your bed as you buried your head in your lap, taking deep breaths. Derek was back from the hospital, it had been a week. There was still no word from Jay. Your anxiety had come back, worse than before. Your heart was constantly racing, it was harder to control it. 

There was a full moon tonight, you could tell Derek was slightly worried as well. Once again, you two were the only ones home, you refrained from telling anyone else that Jay was back in town. 

You still had no idea what supernatural creature he was. 

Your head shot up, hearing someone arguing in Derek’s room.

You tried to ignore it, before finding yourself leaning against Derek’s door.

“What happened?” you asked.

“I told Emily I couldn’t go out with her tonight and now she’s upset,” Derek sighed.

“Yeah, that’ll happen a lot,” you shrugged.

“I can’t think about that. I have to find some new chains or something. The last ones broke,” you nodded your head as Derek grabbed his wallet.

“Wait,” he frowned slightly.

“I’ll come with you,” you replied.

“Why? You do know Damon’s gone, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m still coming with you. I know exactly where to go too,” he sighed, before nodding his head.

You were scared to let him out of your sight again. If he was home, you were home. If he wasn’t, you weren’t. 

You grabbed your keys, getting into the car as he followed you.

“Can I drive?” he asked.

“In your dreams, Hale,” you rolled your eyes, before driving off.

---

You retrieved some chains among other things from the Lockwoods, the two of you made your way to the Grill. You sat at a table, looking around through the mirrors.

“Okay, seriously. What’s up?” Derek sat across from you, while you shrugged.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“You’re acting really weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes, you are. You haven’t insulted me for almost a week, you haven’t done anything that doesn’t involve me. You’re barely even paying attention to this conversation!” you turned to him, running your fingers through your hair.

“Look-” you froze, seeing something past your eye as you tensed.

You looked out the window, seeing Jay standing in the park.

“I gotta go,” you heard him yell in protest as you got up, running out of the restaurant.

“What are you planning?” you immediately asked him.

“Really? No hello, or how are you?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it. Tell me what the hell you’re doing,” you spat.

“Walk with me,” he began to walk away, while you stuck your hand in your pocket, reaching for your gun.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you just want to catch up?” you could see the smirk on your face as you shook your head.

“Last time we saw each other, you killed my mom. Sorry if I’m not in a talkative mood.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Who’s the raven-haired kid you’re with? Friend? Boyfriend?” 

You stayed silent, clenching your jaw.

“Wonder which way he swings. Would he go out with me if I asked him?” you froze in your steps, shaking your head.

“You go near him, I’ll empty this clip into your brain,” you threatened.

“That almost sounded believable, you know. Do you intimidate people like that?” he asked.

“Jay, what are you doing here?” you asked again.

“Spent the last year trying to figure out what I want to do with life. I got the revenge I wanted my entire life. It’s kind of like I have no purpose now,” he shrugged.

You tensed as he put his arm around your shoulder.

You have a gun, why are you scared?

“I finally figured it out. You see, when the supernatural kill innocent humans, all these hunters kill them. But, when innocent supernaturals die, hunters are praised. How is that fair?” 

“I got the locations of some hunters from your phone. Kinda freaked the first time, a group of them against one. I still killed them all. You saw it, right? It was in the paper,” he put his hand on your waist, pulling you in slightly.

“Why are you telling me this? I could kill you now. End it here,” your voice wavered slightly as you mentally scolded yourself.

“You could, but we both know you’re not strong enough to do it. Aim your gun, take your best shot at me,” his eyes flashed grey as he winked.

“What are you?” you asked.

“Why would I tell you? So you can figure out how to kill me? I’d rather not,” he scoffed.

“Look, your parents were not innocent. My mother believed that all innocent supernatural creatures should live their lives freely,” you saw his face fall into a glare as his grip on you tightened.

“Shouldn’t you be on my side? I mean, you’re all for equality, aren’t you?” 

“Those hunters you killed last week never killed a supernatural who didn’t deserve it,” you shook your head softly.

“They had it coming. If hunters didn’t exist, everything would be peaceful.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Supernaturals would kill off the entire human race.”

He put his hands on your waist, stopping in front of you.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Humans are the worst. This stupid, degenerate species… they all deserve to die. Not everyone is like you, you know. You always saw the good in everyone and everything. Well, at least you used to,” you could hear him laugh as you dug your nails into your palm.

“I’m assuming you didn’t come back here just to bother me.”

“I want you to come with me. You’re sort of a hunter, you can get around. People knew your mother. It’ll be fun,” you could feel his breath on your face as you looked up, frowning.

“You’re disgusting. You’re a monster. You killed my mother right in front of me and expect me to be okay with you waltzing back into town, and then you ask me to come with you? To murder all these-”

“Not murder. I’d call it evening out the playing field. Why should the supernatural cower and be afraid for their lives while hunters and humans walk freely?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, before hearing someone walking up to you two.

“Dean,” you saw a smile on Jay’s face as you turned around, feeling his hand on your waist.

“Jay! I didn’t know you were back. It’s good to see you, man,” your heart was racing, as you looked at Dean.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? You look-” Dean started.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you lied. You didn’t need to cause panic.

“So, are you guys back together or something?” Dean asked.

“Looks like it, yeah?” Jay smirked, pressing a small kiss to your cheek as you stiffened.

“Well, I’m happy for you guys. I’m running late for my shift. We should plan a hang or something while you’re in town. I’m sure Derek would love to meet you,” Dean replied.

“Yeah, definitely. We’ll see you,” Dean gave you two a small smile before walking off. 

You pulled away from Jay, taking a few steps back. You held your gun out, pointing it at Jay, feeling your heart beating in the back of your head.

“You know what? I’ll see you tonight. Make sure your bags are packed,” you cocked the gun, pointing it at him.

“Incensa,” you winced softly, dropping the gun as it burst into flames.

“How did you-”

“I’m going to be stronger than you, no matter what. You’re coming with me tonight, whether you want to or not. I suggest you say your goodbyes,” he disappeared from in front of you as tears rushed to your eyes, dialing Zach’s number.

It went straight to voicemail as your heart dropped.

“Zach, please call me back,” you sniffled softly, ending the call as you ran your fingers through your hair.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself, you were weak. You couldn’t stop Jay when you had the chance, you barely stopped Damon. 

Stupid and useless

Your hands were shaking as you rushed to your car, driving off. You forgot about Derek, leaving him at the Grill before he ran out, yelling for you.

“(Y/N)!” he groaned, taking his phone out, about to dial your number.

“Hey, you’re Derek, right?” Derek frowned, turning around to see another boy standing behind him.

“Uhm…”

“Oh, I’m an old friend of (Y/N)’s. We used to be close, but then I moved away for some time,” Jay explained.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Derek tensed slightly.

“Yeah, it has been a while. I can give you a ride to the Salvatore House. I was gonna head there anyway to see (Y/N),” Derek softened slightly, nodding his head.

“Great,” the two of them walked to his car, before taking off. 

---

“Derek, this isn’t funny. Dean said he saw you driving off with someone. Call me back,” it was nearly sundown, only a few hours until the full moon and Derek was nowhere to be found. Zach hadn’t replied to your call, neither had Stefan or Laura.

You paced around the house anxiously. You made a barrier of wolfsbane and salt around the entire house, keeping your weapons ready.

You dialed Laura’s number once again.

“Laura, please call me back. I-I can’t find Derek. The full moon…” your voice broke slightly as you stopped yourself.

“None of you are answering your fucking phones, what's the point of having them?!” you hung up the call, rubbing the back of your neck.

Fuck this

You walked outside of the house, met with Jay on the doorstep.

“Oh, hey,” he smiled softly, while you aimed your gun at him.

“Where’s Derek?” you yelled.

“Passed out. Don’t worry about him, he’ll sleep through the full moon. Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“I’m not going with you. Where is Derek,” you asked again.

“If you come with me, maybe I’ll let him live,” you felt a chill up your spine as your face dropped.

“What do you mean… Where is he?” you yelled.

“You keep asking me that, like I’m gonna give you an answer,” he crossed his arms.

You cocked your gun, about to fire before he muttered something under his breath. Your gun was knocked out of your hands, before you grabbed your knife from your pocket, aiming for his chest. 

He pulled it from you, twisting your arm back before you kicked his stomach, causing him to stumble back.

“You know, you’re getting better at this,” he smirked.

You clenched your fist, aiming for this jaw as he moved slightly, while your fist met with his head.

His eyes glew a light grey, as he looked at you with rage.

“We don’t have time for this,” he used his powers, putting his hand around your neck, pushing you back as you felt your head hit the wall behind you. 

He pulled you off your feet, pulling you higher up. Tears filled your eyes as you felt the air leaving your body.

“Let Derek go,” you cried softly.

He dropped you to the floor, as you gasped for air.

“You’re still the same weak girl that I had the displeasure of knowing,” you looked up at him, your vision blurry as he kicked your stomach. You coughed loudly, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“You couldn’t beat me if I let you,” he yelled.

“Jay…” your voice drifted as you laid on your back, blood dripping from your lips as you gasped for air.

“Come on. Get in the car,” he pulled you up, you couldn’t escape his grip.

He put handcuffs on you, pulling your arms behind the seat as you winced.

He put your seatbelt on you, before stroking your cheek.

“Was that so hard for you to do?” he smirked slightly.

“Derek…” you cried.

“Oh, he’s fine!” Jay opened up his trunk, while you saw him pull Derek’s unconscious body to the doorstep of the house.

“You can’t leave him like that,” you cried softly.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” he closed your door, before walking to the driver’s seat, sitting next to you.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

You cried softly, shaking your head.

“Shhh, I can’t have you crying. I’ll patch you up once we’re out of here. Can’t have Zach or Stefan catching up with us,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead as you felt a small tear rush down your face.

You looked back at Derek’s body, as your heart began to ache. 

“I hate you,” you cried softly.

Jay wiped away your tear, pulling your head up.

“No, you don’t. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Taglist: 

@bellabadacadabra​

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@eunoia-kth​

@angelgtzdar

@shortimaginewriter​

@linkpk88​

[masterofmunson]

hello, mrs. reid

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your husband will do anything to protect you, even if it means playing house with someone who isn’t you. Season 15, episode 6 Spence.

Warnings: language, kidnapping, gun violence, typical criminal minds angst and drama

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: My first Reid fic! I love Criminal Minds so I want to start writing fics about pretty boy genius™️. Let me know what you think!

Something was off the moment you stepped into the office. JJ and Garcia wouldn’t meet your eyes and Spencer wasn’t at his desk. Normally, you would come to the office together, but he’d left almost immediately when Emily called earlier in the morning. You were still waking up and getting ready before he kissed you quickly and ran out the door. It wasn’t odd to arrive at Quantico separately, but it always makes you nervous when Spencer doesn’t tell you what’s going on right away. It’s a tell tale sign that he’s keeping something from you.

Despite the fact you’ve been together for nearly five years, three of which as husband and wife, he still tries to keep you safe even though you both have the same job. You love him with your entire heart and you love that he’ll do anything for you, but it’s important to you that you can stand your ground without your husband’s protection every now and then.

“Where’s Spence?” you ask JJ, taking a slow sip from your coffee mug. You shrug off your jacket and lean back in your chair. You anxiously twirl your wedding ring around your finger.

“He’s with Emily and Rossi in her office,” JJ answers.

You nod and quickly stand up from your chair. You walk up the steps and knock softly on the door to Emily’s office. You wait a few seconds before the door is pulled open and your poor husband nearly knocks you over. You laugh softly and steady yourself by grabbing his shoulders.

A deep frown is etched in his face and he avoids your soft touch. He tries to walk around you, but you block his path. Spencer sighs, gritting his teeth at you and running a hand through his hair. Your brows crease together as you stare at him.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” you whisper gently. You resist the urge to reach for his hands. Despite the fact that you love to show him support and affection when he desperately needs it, you both know better than to do it in front of the entire team.

He sighs again and grabs your hand. He pulls you behind him and walks the two of you to Derek’s old office down the hall. Spencer quickly turns the lights on and slams the door shut behind you. He locks the door before closing the shades looking into the vacant office to give the two of you some privacy.

You watch him carefully and listen to his heavy breathing. You call his name gently as he paces around the length of the room. Spencer finally looks at you and takes two quick strides over to you before reaching for your face.

The sudden movement catches you off guard. His fingers gently caress your face before his mouth finds yours. You jump in surprise at the intensity of the kiss. You gasp loudly as Spencer devours you. It makes your heart race and skin tingle. It’s like he’s taking you whole.

You pull away, hot and breathless as you stare at your frazzled husband. His hair is in disarray from your fingers and fear is present in his eyes. You gently brush your thumb against the side of his face. He leans into your touch.

“What’s going on, Spence?” you whisper softly, even though you know you don’t need to. “Not that I don’t enjoy your love and affection, but what was that for?”

Despite the obvious anxiousness he feels, he laughs in response. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning to kiss your forehead. “You know I love you, right? You know that I’ll do anything to protect you.”

You nod, reaching for his chin again. You kiss him again. This time it’s sweet and gentle. You rest your forehead against his. “Yes, Spence. I know you love me. I love you too. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s starting to scare me,” you answer softly, clinging to your husband.

“Some woman is working for Cat Adams. She wants her released or she’ll kill the father and daughter she kidnapped. Cat will only talk to me,” Spencer tells you, holding you tightly.

You swallow hard. He’s still refusing to look you in the eyes. He’s holding back. You can read him like the back of your hand. He’s keeping something from you to try and keep you safe. It makes your stomach drop. “What aren’t you telling me, Spence? Tell me the truth.”

Tears gather at the corners of your husband’s eyes. He looks away briefly before you reach to hold his face and brush the stray tears away. You kiss his forehead.

He lets out a labored breath before speaking. “This woman took Charlie and Kennedy.”

Your ears start to ring and your knees buckle beneath you. Spencer is quick to catch you and he practically carries you to the couch tucked away in the corner of the room. He holds you tightly as you struggle to breathe.

This woman, whoever she is, took the only family you have. Your Uncle Charlie raised you alongside your cousin Kennedy. Your parents were gone and your uncle took it upon himself to raise you and his daughter as a single father right after your aunt died when you were children. He wasn’t your uncle, he was your dad. Kennedy wasn’t your cousin, she was your sister.

You let out a loud cry and you don’t care if anyone hears. You’d put your family at risk. Cat was going to pay for what she did.

“We have to find them. I can’t lose them, Spence. I can’t. I already have a small family. I don’t want it to be even smaller,” you cry as he holds you and brushes your hair with his gentle fingers.

“We’ll find them. I promise,” Spencer whispers through soft tears. He seals his promise with a firm, loving kiss on your mouth. You cling on to his tie and pull him down harder into your mouth. Your body tingles with love and comfort for your perfect husband. You love him with your entire soul.

He brushes away the last few tears from your face before you stand up from your spot on the couch beside him. You reach for Spencer’s hand and he stands up beside you. He takes his free hand and gently rubs underneath your eyes, catching your mascara on the tip of his finger. He smiles at you and you do the same, despite how you feel. He kisses you again before opening the office door and walking beside you back to the office with your hand in his.

Taking the seat next to him at the round table, his hand never leaves yours. Instead, it finds comfort on your thigh as he squeezes your hand every now and then.

You listen to Emily and Garcia intensely. A photograph pops up on the screen of your family with a woman you don’t recognize. Their faces are full of fear and you feel hopeless. You know Emily won’t let you help with the case. It’s a given, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

Their voices all muffle in your ears. You feel like you can’t breathe. You’re close to tears, but you don’t let them fall. Spencer squeezes your hand again, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“The only demand this woman has is to have Cat Adams released in 24 hours,” Garcia states, pulling up the digital note that was sent to her email.

You let out a bitter laugh and shake your head in disbelief. This wasn’t just about Spence and Cat. It was about you too.

When the team caught her five years earlier, you and Spencer just started dating. You’d been friends for so long that it just felt natural to take the next step. You helped him grieve for Maeve. You had always been there for him and you showed him just how much he deserved to be loved.

“They’re transferring Cat over to us now. She won’t talk to anyone other than Spencer,” Emily states, closing the file in her hands.

You shake your head in protest. “Absolutely not. All she wants is his attention and to play games with him.”

Your voice is firm and your gaze hard as your eyes meet Emily’s. You won’t let Cat try to take Spence away from you.

He reaches for your hand again and squeezes it firmly. You look over to your husband and your eyes soften.

“I’ll be okay. I have to do this to find our family. I’ve beaten her before, I can do it again,” he tells you. He says it with such strong conviction that you let out an anxious breath.

You nod and Spencer takes you out of the briefing room so he can talk to you privately. He pulls you into Derek’s empty office again and practically slams the door shut. He immediately wraps his arms around you.

You let out a wounded cry as you cling to him. Tears slide down your cheeks and dampen his shirt. His hand holds the back of your head as he hugs you to him. Your entire body is shaking and your knees give out underneath you. Spencer is quick to catch you and gently joins you on the floor of the office.

You pull away from the crock of his neck and he holds your face delicately in his hands. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes as he brushes away your tears. You grab at his tie, pulling him closer to you. His mouth meets yours in a feather light kiss. It reminds you of the first time you kissed. He was anxious and you were too. It felt like his mouth wasn’t even touching yours with how soft it was. It still made your entire body tingle.

Your husband kisses you again. This time a little firmer and you know what it means. He loves you and he’ll do anything to protect you.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. You close your eyes and breathe him in. He brushes hair away from your face and kisses your forehead.

You swallow hard and meet his eyes. “Give me your ring, Spence,” you whisper, reaching for his left hand. Your eyes are fixated on the worn golden band on his ring finger. He hates taking it off.

His brows crease together in confusion as he looks at you. “Why do you want my ring?” he asks you.

You sigh. Now it’s your turn to kiss his forehead and brush loose strands of hair behind his ears. “I don’t want her to see it. I don’t want her to try and take it from you,” you confess. “It’ll be safe with me.”

He frowns. You know it’s the last thing he wants to do. He feels naked without the ring on his finger. He feels bare without the reminder of your love on his hand.

“Okay.”

Your eyes are trained on his hands. They pull out of your gentle grasp. He grasps the ring softly between his fingers and pulls it off. He sets it in the palm of your hand and automatically fidgets his fingers together at the loss of his wedding ring.

You lean forward and kiss his lips again. You squeeze the ring in your palm. “Thank you,” you murmur against his mouth before pulling away.

You carefully unhook the bare chain necklace around your neck. You pull your ring off too and slide both rings onto the chain. You turn your head and your husband helps you put the necklace back on. He presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck before letting your hair fall back into place on your shoulders. You tuck the rings underneath the safety of your sweater where no one can see.

Spencer helps you back to your feet again and you card your fingers through his hair one last time. He kisses you one last time.

“I love you.”

You smile, despite the hurt and fear riddled inside your chest. “And I love you,” you reply before the two of you make your way back to the team.

Cat Adams arrives soon after the briefing. She’s flanked by a number of armed policemen and agents. You can tell she’s smirking despite the mask on her face. She’s smug and walking tall as she walks down the hallway.

You, Penelope, JJ, and Matt all watched her disappear. Your hand reaches up to your necklace after she passes. You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously.

You know you shouldn’t watch the interrogation. Emily ordered you to just sit tight. You had too much at stake and she would’ve done the same to Spence if he wasn’t the only agent Cat would speak to.

You ignore all the red flags inside your head. You practically race down the hallway into the office attached to the interrogation room. Tara and Luke turn their heads towards you as you enter and stand beside them in front of the two way mirror.

Spencer’s back is to you. His posture is rigid. You catch a glimpse of his face from the cameras inside. A shiver runs down your spine when her voice reaches your ears.

“Hi, Spencie. Are you happy to see me because I’m sure happy to see you!” Cat exclaims, grinning at your husband.

He ignores her. “You’ve arranged the kidnapping of two people. You did it the same way you did before with a partner on the outside, but her demand, release Cat Adams, will never happen. So tell me what you want right now before I send you back to prison,” his voice is firm and authoritative.

You watch her body language carefully. She’s slouched in the chair. She tells him how she’s given up, how she’s stopped fighting. She plead guilty to all 72 counts of murder and requested the death penalty.

“So you’ve grown a conscious now? I don’t think so.”

She scoffs, claiming boredom. “Death has to be much better than this. It’s made me think, and I could only think of you. I want to go on a date with you, Spencie. I want to have fun! I want to look pretty!”

Your stomach drops inside your chest. It makes your heart race and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“The only date I’ll be at is when they stick a needle in your vein.”

“Are you really going to let a father and daughter die?” she asks him with a smug smirk.

“I never said anything about a father and daughter. You’re already slipping.”

Your legs tremble beneath you and Cat taunts your husband. You feel like you can’t breathe. You watch your husband turn his back to her and storm out of the interrogation room. You let out another breath of air you were holding in and Tara looks over at you.

You leave the office and make a beeline towards the elevator. You step inside and press the button to the bottom floor. The elevator starts to move and stops on the first floor. Stepping outside, you walk towards the outdoor eating area. You sit on an empty bench and look down into your hands.

You close your eyes, listening to the wind hit the nearby trees. Your fingers twirl the rings hanging from your necklace.

“What’re you doing out here?” JJ asks you, joining you on the bench.

“Trying to breathe,” you utter. You glance over at her and she reaches for your hand. She squeezes it firmly. “I know he’ll do whatever it takes to get my family back. He won’t want to take her on the date, but he has to.”

JJ sighs and you rest your head on her shoulder. She rubs your back to comfort you. “I know.”

Suddenly your phone rings. You pull it out of your pocket and you turn to look at JJ. It’s an unknown number. You swallow hard and you answer it.

“Hello? Who is this?” you ask into the phone.

“Y/n! Please help me! Help Dad!” your sister Kennedy screams into the phone.

Your heart drops inside your chest. Tears spill over your cheeks and you look over to JJ. “Kennedy? Where are you? Can you see anything that stands out to you?” you ask her.

You hear the phone shuffle in the background. “Go home,” a voice says. You know it’s the woman that kidnapped your sister and dad. “If you tell Spencer, your family dies. If you leave your house, your family dies.”

The line goes dead and you're frozen in place. You’re at a loss for words and JJ squeezes your hand. This was never about Spencer. You were the hidden agenda.

You run through the building back to the elevator. JJ follows behind you and you impatiently wait for the elevator doors to open. You press the button to the floor the BAU office is on and the doors close.

The doors open to the elevator and you run towards Emily’s office. You almost miss Spencer walking down the hall with Cat on his arm. You don’t have time to stop and watch Cat strut down the hallway with a smirk on her face beside your husband.

“Y/n—” Matt says your name and you wave him off. You don’t have time to dwell on the serial murderer obsessed with your husband.

“Not now, Simmons,” you snap, pushing past him towards Emily. JJ follows close behind and Emily reaches for your shoulders when she notices the distressed look on your face. “This game she’s playing, it’s not just about Spence. It’s about me. Us. The woman working for her called me. She forced my sister to call me. She wants me to go home. If I leave the house or tell Spence she’ll kill my sister.”

“Cat’s obsessed with Spencer. She’s threatened by you. Taking your family was her twisted way of threatening you,” Emily states. “She wants to take him away from you.”

You nod. You can barely breathe. “I have to go home. If I don’t, she’ll kill Kennedy. I have to go home.”

Emily pulls you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I’ll take you home. You’ll be safe.”

Emily takes your arm gently and you grab your keys and purse from your desk before heading to the elevator.

You arrive home 15 minutes later. Unmarked cars line the block and Emily helps wire you. Your fingers tremble and Emily squeezes your hand. “Take a deep breath, okay? Everything will be fine.”

You walk up the steps of your porch and unlock the front door. You lock the door behind you and turn on the light to the front hallway.

Walking down the hall, you set your keys and purse on the kitchen table. You lean against the kitchen table and run your fingers through your hair.

You pace the length of the kitchen, twirling your wedding ring between your fingers anxiously. Your heart races and you’re near tears again. You hurry to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle from on top of the fridge when you hear the lock on the front door click open.

You hurry out of the kitchen and pull your gun out of the holster on your hip. You aim towards the front door, waiting with baited breath for the door to open. The door is pushed open and you gasp, your heart falls inside your chest.

Spence is standing at the foyer of the door with Cat draping herself on him. Her mouth is on your husband’s. His hands hold her face firmly as her tongue swipes over his top lip. You hate that tears threaten to fall from your eyes when you know it’s exactly what she wants.

Spencer pulls away from her and his head turns towards you. His eyes widen as he stares at you. He frowns and pushes away from her.

“Well, this is awkward,” Cat laughs. “Nice to see you Mrs. Reid.”

“What are you doing here? Get out of here!” Spencer asks you, running towards you. Your eyes are still trained on her.

“I can’t. If I leave, she kills Kennedy.”

“Awe, that’s too bad,” Cat pouts at you.

You glare at her, tightening the grip on your gun, aiming it at her. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t shoot you,” you snap at her.

She grins at you. “Your sister and dad are dead if you do, Mrs. Reid.”

“Honey, they have your dad. He’s safe. Put your gun down,” Spencer’s voice is soft and gentle as he stares at you.

You blink away your tears and put your gun back into your holster. Spencer turns back to the front of the house and shuts the door. You watch Cat carefully. Her eyes look around the room as she sits in the chair closest to the fireplace. Spencer approaches you and you turn your head away from him when he tries to kiss you.

“Take a seat. We have a lot to talk about.”

You move to sit on the couch across from her and Spence does the same thing. You ring your fingers together and stare at the wall behind Cat.

“Does it make you mad that I kissed your husband, Mrs. Reid?” she asks, leaning forward and grinning at you.

You swallow hard and shake your head. “No. I expected you to try and do something to try and make me lose the faith I have in him. This is just a game to you.”

She laughs again and it sends a chill down your spine. “I brought us all here to make a point. You can do so much better. You need to know the truth about your husband, Mrs. Reid.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. You won’t be intimidated by her. You roll your eyes at her. “Oh, I do? Please enlighten me with what I need to know about my husband.”

She smirks, her eyes finding Spencer’s. “I see why you married her. You’re her bitch, aren’t you Spencie?”

“Shut up!” Spencer shouts suddenly. It makes you jump and you reach to hold his hand. He pulls his hand away from yours and stands up, towering over Cat.

“Put your hands on me again and your sister in law is dead,” she snaps, glaring at him. She smirks when you stand up and reach for his hand again. You pull him away and sit back down. “See how he treats me, Mrs. Reid? After everything he’s said, he still wants to hurt me.”

Your brows crease together in confusion. You have no idea what she’s talking about. Cat grins at your obvious confusion. Your eyes meet hers. “What are you talking about?”

“Tell her, Spencie. Tell her what you told me.”

“No,” his voice is firm and strong. He doesn’t break his threatening gaze.

“Tell her!” Cat screams, slapping the chair. “Look her in the eyes and tell her!”

“Spence?” you murmur softly. Your ears are ringing and your heart is racing. It feels like your heart is beating outside of your chest.

He sighs shakily before looking you in the eyes. His hands squeeze yours tightly and he brings your hands up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “I said you weren’t her and that no matter what, I can’t get her out of my mind,” he whispers quietly.

It feels like your heart stopped beating. A single tear slides down your face and you pull away from his hands and look away at the floor.

“Ouch, Spencie. You just got rejected by your wife. Look at that, you made her cry!”

“Everything I said was a lie. I had to to save your family,” Spence states.

You know he’s telling the truth. He loves you more than life itself. He’ll do anything to protect you, even if it meant kissing a psychotic serial killer to save your family. You just can’t show it.

“Did the kiss look like a lie?” Cat asks you with a pointed look. You know what you have to say and you hate it. You have to play her game. You have to play into her fantasy that your husband is losing you.

“No,” you whisper, turning your head away from your husband and the woman sitting across from you. Your bottom lip trembles as you try to keep your composure.

Your body goes numb as you ignore the two of them. Your ears buzz and you look up to meet her menacing eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask her. Your voice breaks and you struggle to hold back tears again.

Cat stands up from the seat next to the fireplace to squat in front of you. Her eyes meet yours. “I want you to see it. I want you to see that he’s no better than whoever hurt you before.”

You feel like you can barely breathe as you listen to your husband and Cat. All you want to do is save your sister. Whatever is going on between them is their business and not yours.

You stand up from the couch and stare at her. “I don’t want any part of the game you two have! I just want my sister! What do I have to do to get you to release my sister?” you shout. It makes your husband jump. Blood rushes through your head and you feel like you’re about to faint.

She smirks, pointing to the necklace on you. Your hand automatically holds it against your chest. “Prove your loyalty to your sister. Give me your ring. Prove that your sister means more to you than your husband, that you’re willing to lose him to save her.”

You stand frozen in front of her. “I give you the ring and you’ll release my sister?” you ask her, fumbling with the rings on your neck.

“Promise.”

“Y/n—” Spence says your name, but it’s too late.

You break the clasp of the necklace and it falls off your neck. The rings rest in the palm of your hand and you turn your head away as she takes the rings from you as well as your phone.

She texts the number and a photo of your sister appears. You grab it from her and run out of the house, leaving your husband behind. The last thing you hear is Cat laughing.

Emily hugs you and takes your phone, handing it off to someone else so they can find your sister. Emily guides you to the nearest car and you drive back to Quantico.

You run straight through the glass double doors of the office foyer when you find your father and sister beside Rossi. They look relatively unharmed and the weight on your shoulders disappears the moment you hug them. You cling to them as tears fall down your face.

You’re relieved, but it doesn’t make the feeling of guilt go away. You know Spencer’s an absolute wreck. You made Cat think she won, that she had the upper hand. You gave her your ring when you promised your husband they would both be safe in order to save your family.  

He thinks he’s lost you. He thinks you never want to see him again. He thinks he’s the most vile person on the planet. He kissed another woman to save your family and you risked your marriage in order to save your sister.

Hours go by, and Spencer still hasn’t shown. It makes you anxious and jittery as you drink your third cup of coffee, staring out the large double doors at the elevator.

Emily makes sure to comfort and reassure you that he’s alright, that he’ll show up. Eventually he does.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing your husband. His shoulders are sunken and exhaustion paints underneath his eyes. He looks so defeated and broken. It breaks your heart.

Running out to meet him, you nearly knock him off his feet. You cry in relief and hold on to him tightly. He’s tense, shocked at your display of affection for him.  

You pull your head away from his chest and look him in the eyes. Tears fall down his face and you hold him gently. You kiss him firmly. He holds you tightly as you kiss and taste his tears.

“I thought…. I thought I lost you,” he stutters, squeezing you hard. It’s like he fears you’ll disappear again.  

You wipe his tears away, shaking your head. “I had to play into her fantasy. I’m sorry, Spence. I had to keep you in the dark. I love you so much. You’re never going to lose me,” you tell him, running your hands through his unruly hair.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “I had to kiss her. I had to say those awful things to get your family back. I wish I didn’t have to say them. I’m sorry. I love you so much that it kills me.”

You hold his head against you and you hug him tightly. “I know. I know. You did what you had to do and I did too. I love you Spence. I hate that I had to give her the ring. I’m sorry. I promised you that they would be safe and they weren’t.”

Your husband initiates the kiss this time. He brushes away your lingering tears and his mouth makes your skin tingle. Your grasp tightens on his hair. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“I know. It’s okay,” he whispers, slipping his hand into his pants pocket and pulling your wedding rings out. You take his and gently slip the golden band on his ring finger. He does the same to you and you kiss again to seal your promise of eternity once more.

He takes your hand in his and presses a gentle kiss to the ring on your finger. It makes you grin and he kisses your mouth again.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“And I love you,” your husband replies, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you enter the office together.

Since that day, Spencer’s never taken off his ring. He leaves it on no matter what. In his sleep, the ring adorns his finger. In the shower, the ring stays on. It doesn’t matter. He’s made an eternal promise to you that he intends to keep.

You do the same, reminding yourself you love each other no matter what. Your rings cemented your eternal love for each other, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mgg-theprettiestboy]

beauty and the beast (part 2)

spencer reid x fem!reader

fluff and a lil angst

in which spencer is the now angry one out of the pair, because she got hurt

warnings: usual criminal minds violence, hospitals, gunshot wound, mentions of blood, etc

Y/N groaned as her eyes opened. Her vision was fuzzy, and no matter how much she blinked, it wouldn’t clear.

“Agent Y/L/N? Can you hear me?” All she could do was groan in response. Words didn’t seem to want to come out of her mouth, and all she could feel was pain, everywhere. Her whole body ached. And the way she was jolting around wasn’t helping.

“Y/N? Come on baby, keep your eyes open,” Derek’s voice came from the other side of her. She could vaguely him out, her vision still blurring, and someone else on the other side of her.

“We need to get her into surgery straight away, the bullet might have hit a vital organ, and she’s losing a lot of blood. Keep pressure on her wound, Agent Morgan,” the voice ordered, and Y/N could see Derek nod, before he grumbled under his breath, “man... Reid is gonna kill me.”

an hour later

“Morgan! Where is she, tell me she’s okay?!” Spencer’s frantic voice came from the hospital hallway. Derek looked up from his phone to see the rest of the team pile into the waiting room behind Spencer. The genius’ hair was sticking in every differen direction, and his eyes were ablaze, with a fire that Morgan knew was directed at him.

“She just got out of surgery. The doctor said he would come to me with any updates,” Derek said, raising his hands in surrender, “let me explain—“

“Explain?! You think I wanna hear–“ Reid began to snap, but Hotch interrupted him with a scolding tone, “Reid. Calm down.”

Spencer quietened himself as Derek began to speak, “she had her vest on, I swear. I didn’t see what happened. I took two cops to the front door, and she took the other two around the back. Next thing I know, bullets go flying and someone’s calling for an EMT over the radio, that there’s an agent down. By the time I reached her, the unsub was dead as she was down. Two bullets. One to the arm, the other to the chest. The unsub had good aim, and when Y/N lifted her gun, her vest shifted and he shot her.”

The team jumped in surprise as a loud thump echoed through the room. They turned to the source of the sound, which was Spencer’s fist against a vending machine.

“Reid,” Emily said calmingly as he turned to face away from the group, shaking his head. It only lasted a second, though, because he then turned to face Derek, “why weren’t you with her? You-you should’ve stayed with her.”

“It’s protocol for at least one agent to enter through each entrance, you know that Reid. I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I know you’re mad, but she’s going to be okay,” Derek tried to reason with the angry doctor, who just kept shaking his head.

“Agent Morgan?” A nurse peaked her head through the door, gaining everyone’s attention, “oh, I presume you’re all here for Miss Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N,” Spencer grumbled, and the nurse smiled apologetically, “my apologies. Agent Y/L/N is out of surgery. It went well. She should be awake any minute now, and I’ll tell you when she is.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nodded, looking to Reid after the nurse left. He just shook his head, as the whole team made themselves comfortable in the waiting room. Derek’s eyes were on Spencer as he watched the doctor sit in the chair nearest the door, his leg bouncing as his eyes stayed on the floor. He moved to sit beside him, before sighing deeply, “I said I’m sorry, Reid. I don't know what else you want from me. I was only doing my job, and I did nothing wrong.”

Spencer let out a shaky sigh, his voice quivering as he spoke, “I can't lose her. We were so far out, and when we got the call that she got shot, the whole drive I had to imagine what would happen if she didn’t make it. And that's not a world I would ever want to live in.”

“But she’s okay,” Derek reassured him, and Spencer sniffled slightly as he nodded, “yeah. Yeah, she’s okay.”

“Agent Morgan? Agent Y/L/N is awake and asking for you. She’s also a little bit...uh...” the nurse said from the door way, and Derek sighed, “hostile? Yeah, that’s Y/N alright.”

The team all stood and made their way to Y/N’s room, where a nurse was scolding her as she reset her IV, “you can’t just yank this out of your arm.”

“Listen, the surgery went well, I’m fine now, I just want to go home, lady. I hate the hospital with a passion. No offence,” Y/N whined, before perking up as she saw Derek, “Morgan! You’re okay!”

“Yeah, I’m okay pretty girl. How you feeling?” He chuckled, smiling as she grumbled, “like I got shot. Twice. Now my arm is gonna hurt like a bitch every time I gotta wipe my ass.”

“Just... use the other hand?” Derek suggested, unable to figure out if she was high on painkillers, or was being herself. She smiled slightly as the rest of the team looked on, “you guys look so gloomy, like I’m on my deathbed. The wounds were minor, no major arteries or organs were damaged.”

“We were worried. I was worried,” Spencer said softly, going to stand beside her bed. Her smile widened, and her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to take his hand, “I’m fine, Spence.”

“The fact that you’re in the hospital right know instantly eliminates you from the term ‘fine’,” he said, moving to sit in the chair beside the bed, “and the two bullet wounds agree with me.”

“You’re insufferable,” she quipped, to which Spencer replied with a smile, “you love me.”

She smiled softly, before pointing accusingly at him, “you’re lucky I do.”

An awkward silence was quick to fall over the room, before Hotch cleared his throat, “well, you obviously can’t fly back, and you’re not going to be able to drive, so–“

“I got it,” Spencer said, shushing Y/N as she began to protest, “this is me paying you back for taking me home after I got abused by a baseball bat and a psychopath.”

She huffed, watching Hotch toss Spencer the keys. Derek folded his arms, “I’m gonna stick around for a while.”

Y/N knew Morgan felt guilty for what happened, even though it wasn’t his fault. But his hero complex made him believe that it was his fault. That it was his job to save her. She raised a brow at him, before sighing, “no way, get your ass home. It’s bad enough I got stuck with a babysitter with a PHD, I can’t get stuck with you too.”

Derek’s lips quirked into a smile, “he’s got three.”

Spencer smiled as Y/N just flipped him off, “shush, I’ve been shot, which means I’m always right. I mean, I’m always right anyways. Just go home, Derek. I got Dr. Reid here, he’ll take good care of me.”

Derek looked between Y/N and Reid, trying not to smirk at the blush on Reid’s face. He sighed, pretending to begrudgingly agree, “fine. But you text me when you get discharged, and when you get home. I’ll bring you some groceries or something.”

“Thanks, Morgs,” Y/N smiled, “now get lost. I need a nap”

He laughed, as he and the rest of the team filtered out of the hospital room. Y/N smiled before shifting to get more comfortable. She winced as she did, and Spencer was instantly on his feet to try help. Once she was comfortable, she smiled up at him, but his face was still laced with concern as he looked down at you. His hand moved without his permission, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, his hand lingering there, “how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” she grinned cheekily, managing to make his lips quirk slightly, “how have you been worse?”

“You forget this isn't my first rodeo. I’ve been shot plenty before,” she said, and his faint smile was quick to drop. She sighed when she noticed, “will you stop worrying so much? Spencer, I’m fine.”

“I know,” he was quick to reply, before sighing as well, “I just don't like it when you're hurt.”

She felt her heart warm, as his hand cupped her cheek softly. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed gently, looking at her as he spoke softly, “can I get you anything? Do you want some jello?”

And she laughed. BAU badass, Supervisory Special Agent Y/N, laughed. Grinning up at him, she shook her head, “the only thing I want right now is for you to stay with me. And tell me some real interesting facts.”

Spencer grinned, and she shuffled over in the bed and patted beside her for him to lie down. She rested her head against him and he carefully wrapped an arm around her, uttering facts about anything and everything, just to make her happy. And they both stayed like that for hours, until the nurses came in to find them both asleep, in each other’s arms, pretending like they both weren’t in love with the other.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I Loved Him... Once - CH 1

Title: I Loved Him... Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

     In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Spencer: 

     “What we have done for ourselves alone, dies with us. What we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” - Albert Pike

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     “Fourteen days, fourteen days, fourteen glorious days!” 

     Spencer barely looked up from the book he was reading, sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair as Derek Morgan sashayed across the bullpen and perched himself on the corner smiling down at him.

     He opted to ignore the over the top, ray of sunshine, mood Derek was in, and flipped the page of his book. Derek was not giving in, he was not going to be ignored when he was in such a good mood, so he swiftly swooped his hand and stole Spencer's book, eliciting a whine of protest as he sat forward and reached for it. Though he didn't make any more effort than that, he knew very well there was no way he would be able to get the book back from Derek through force.

     “Come on, Morgan, give it back.”

     Derek laughed, his eyes shining with mirth as he kept playing keep away with Spencer, “You really want it back that bad?”

     “Yes, actually, it was just starting to get good!” He made another jolt forward to reach for the book but it was in vain. Spencer’s brain might be fast, but Derek Morgan's reflexes were always faster.

     “Really, kid, you're reading…” He turned the book over and eyed the title with a raised brow, “‘The Art of War’. You planning on taking someone down, Reid?” Spencer just eyed him as he closed the book and tucked it under his crossed arms, knowing full well that the genius would remember not only the page number he had been on before Derek closed the book, but the exact word he had read last. “Now, like I said before, we have fourteen, I repeat, fourteen glorious days of vacation starting right now. And you're telling me that your only plans are to sit here at your desk, at work, and continue reading ‘The Art of War’ instead of going out and doing something, anything, other than that?”

     “It never hurts to educate yourself, Morgan, and yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you,” he replied, a little short, then tried once more to swipe unsuccessfully for his book, “now give me back my book.”

     “Good god, man, live a little, you're killing me.” Derek stood and moved the book even further out of Spencer's reach, so he just huffed and sat back in his chair again. “You don't have any plans? No dates? No trips to exotic lands to meet fine exotic ladies?”

     “When have you ever known me to ever have plans? Or dates for that matter. It's not like girls are exactly lining up to date the lanky, boy genius.”

     “Oh you're much more than that, pretty boy, you know that.” Morgan perched himself on the side of his desk again.

     “Not to mention the fact that seeing this in a bathing suit on a beach full of, more than likely, gorgeous people, is not something that is on anyone's bucket list, I'm positive of that. I'm so white I'd probably end up blinding half the beach with my legs alone.”

     Derek was laughing, near tears at this point, “Oh, come on kid, it can't be that bad.”

     “Oh, it is,” Spencer was slightly laughing at this point too, “I went to a pool party once in university and I was asked to put my shirt back on because the light was reflecting off my skin and ‘hurting people's eyes’... Derek, it was ten at night. My skin was reflecting the pool lights so severely it was hurting people.”

     Derek barked out a laugh so hard he nearly fell off the table and Spencer couldn't help but join him. “So you just need a little bit of sun, cancel out some of the white. Why not come with me to Barbados? Little sand, little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun.” He shot a quick wink at Spencer who just scoffed and looked away. “Give me two days with you on the beach and I guarantee I could get you a couple shades darker, at least.”

     “Oh, yes,” he nodded, smirking, “as well as skin cancer.”

     “I promise I won't let you get skin cancer, but that being said, once we get you all sunkissed and confident, I can't promise I'll be able to keep all those fine ladies off of you.”

     “You're not making this sound any better. Skin cancer, STD’s, and multitudes of random women hanging off of me, no thank you.”

     “Well, if you don't want to be swarmed by the fine exotic women,” he paused, smirking down at a waiting Spencer, “I'm sure I can help you land some handsome exotic men, then. I'm not here to judge. More women for me.”

     Spencer reached to the side and grabbed the small pile of papers that were sitting there, and swiftly smacked Derek on the arm with them, “Get off my desk.”

     “That doesn't sound like a denial,” he ducked as he was swatted at again, “come with me and I promise you'll have a good time.”

     “Go!”

     Derek chuckled once more, before ducking under his own desk to grab his bag, then turned back to toss the book back to Spencer who barely caught it, “My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow night, think about it!”

     “I don't need to, I'm not going!”

     “Think about it!”

     “What's the point anyways!?” He called as Derek was almost out of ear shot, but he continued anyways, “When has vacation ever worked out for us? I'd buy a ticket and pay for a room, and realistically we'll probably end up right back here in two days, four tops!”

     Derek was gone by this point, not having heard most of what he had said, more than likely already knowing that this was probably their reality, but not wanting to have to accept it. Though his complaints didn't fall on deaf ears.

     “Oh, now you've gone and jinxed it. Just know that if our vacation gets cancelled due to a case, I am definitely coming after you first, Reid.” 

     He gazed up at Emily over the edge of his book, having indeed remembered the exact word he had left off on when it was stolen from him, and gave her a playful smirk. “I am only stating statistics. If you factor in every vacation we have had since we started here at the BAU, the odds that we will have a full, uninterrupted ‘fourteen glorious days’ as Morgan put it, are less than ten percent. Eight point five-six-three-two percent to be exact.”

     “God I hate you sometimes,” though she laughed as she said it, “so you really don't have any plans?”

     “I never said I didn't have any plans,” he sighed and closed his book on his desk, resigned to not getting any reading done until everyone was gone, “just because I don't have plans involving a hot beach or women, doesn't mean I don't have plans.”

     “Oh!” She perked up and moved closer, intrigued. “So what kinds of fun are you up to then?”

     “Oh, loads!” He shifted in his chair, moving to lean towards her with his elbows on his desk. “I'm signed up for a lecture series that starts tomorrow, but the one I'm most excited for is a lecture called ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid. It's a Nobel lecture all about possible engineering applications for, and the inner workings of, organic and conductive polymers. It sounds completely fascinating! I was also thinking of taking a trip to Colonial Williamsburg. I mean, how amazing would it be to walk the same streets as Thomas Jefferson, or eat in the same place as George Washington! I was also thinking of visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. They have over twenty- two thousand works on display that are largely focused on modern and contemporary art, especially with a focus on European art after the nineteen hundreds. They are also having a workshop there next week focusing on-”

     “Woah, woah, take a breath,” she laughed a bit, then asked with a hint of concern, “aren't you doing anything that doesn't involve… learning? Like, no info intake, no lecture series, no workshops, just relaxing? Letting your brain just take a break?”

     Spencer pouted his bottom lip in thought then looked back up to Emily, “No? Why would I want to waste two weeks doing nothing when I could spend them increasing my knowledge?”

     “Wouldn't you want to sit back and…” She stared confusedly at an equally confused Spencer, then just shook her head with another laugh, “Nevermind, look who I’m talking to. Of course you would think that spending two weeks learning would be an ideal vacation. To each their own I guess, right.”

     He just nodded, picking his book up again as she moved away from his desk.

     “Well, have fun with your jam packed knowledge filled two weeks, see you in fourteen days.”

     “Or in two to four days. Don't forget the eight point five-six-three-two percent chance that I will see you before-”

     “Blah, blah, blah!” She covered her ears as she walked away from him, “Can't hear you, already on vacation!”

     “Very mature,” though he was smiling, “have fun with your mother.”

     She threw a quick wave at him then disappeared. When she was finally gone, he sat back in his chair with a content sigh. Now that Emily was gone, it was just himself, Rossi, and Hotch who were left in the office, and he knew there was a very low chance that either of them would interrupt him to inquire about his vacation plans. He was finally able to finish his book in peace before catching the last train home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Knock, knock.” 

     Aaron looked up from where he had been bent over the front of his desk, the pile of papers he had been sorting through covering every inch of it, and towards the door. “David, come in.”

     The man did, eyeing the mess, but merely stood in the middle of the room and tucked his hands into the pockets of his very expensive suit. “Always one of the last to leave, huh?”

     “Has everyone gone?” Aaron asked without looking up this time.

     “Everyone except the usual suspect.”

     “Reid.” Aaron sighed. ‘Not last to leave,’ he thought. Spencer always seemed to still be there, even in the late late hours of the night. After a case, before vacation, even sometimes during vacation. Aaron always felt bad for the man, worried that he was lonely, though nowadays he could relate. 

     “I overheard him talking with Emily and Derek before they left. His most exciting plans seem to have something to do with a Nobel lecture series,” Rossi moved closer, taking up the chair in front of Aaron’s desk, “that kid needs to learn how to slow down and relax, I'm worried he might burn out someday if he doesn't. He should go out, have some fun from time to time.”

     “Well I'm not much better,” Aaron turned, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, now facing David, “my plans for the next two weeks pretty much consist of staying home, catching up on more paperwork, and if I can swing it with Haley, taking Jack for a few days. If I play my cards right, the park will be the most exciting adventure of my vacation. I'm not exactly going out to paint the town red either.”

     “Yeah, you two are wild,” he drawled with a smirk, “you know, maybe a date would do the kid well. Loosen him up a bit.”

     Aaron eyed him warily with a tilt of his head, seeing right through his attempted ruse, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

     “Perhaps, while you both have the time off, you and Spencer could plan something together.” Aaron closed his eyes with a sigh and shifted, opened his mouth to say something in protest, but David beat him to it, hands up to stop him. “I'm just saying, you're the only two people on the team that aren't out of town for the next two weeks. I’ll be in Italy visiting family, JJ is taking her family camping, Prentis is visiting her mom, Garcia is, quote, ‘on a shopping tour of all the best malls in the northern hemisphere’, and Morgan is hitting the beach in Barbados. That leaves you and Reid. So all I'm saying is that maybe you can stop fantasizing about the kid and actually do something about your infatuation.”  

     Aaron just gaped at his friend, shocked, speechless for the first time in as long as he can remember. “I… how…” Was the only thing he was able to manage to stutter out.

     David just smiled up at him mischievously and stated, “I'm a profiler, Aaron, and a damn good one. I've seen the way you look at Spencer, the way you stick close to him, and it's very obvious you care about him. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, yet ironically the only one to not have figured it out yet is the only actual certified genius.”

     Aaron still didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone about how he felt about Spencer. It was hardly appropriate for him to attempt to pursue the man considering he was his superior, not to mention older than him. Something that had plagued him since the very day he met the cute, quirky doctor on his first day with the BAU. 

     “I can tell you're over-thinking, Aaron.” Rossi speaking brought him out of his small internal panic and he looked down at him. “What is it? That you're his boss? Strauss?”

     He shifted, crossing his arms impossibly closer to his chest. No point in denying it now. “A bit of both, I guess. Not to mention the age difference between us.”

     “First off, I wouldn't worry about Strauss. If anything were to happen between you and Spencer, as long as you navigate the correct channels and immediately disclose your relationship, sign the proper papers, then there is nothing Strauss can do against either of you or your jobs. As for you being his superior, I wouldn't even give that a second thought. No one on our team would think anything of it, no one would ever even entertain the thought that you took advantage, and neither would Spencer.” David then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “And the age gap, who cares. Love, is love, is love. Take it while you've got it and don't ever let it go. Age is but a number and love knows no bounds.”

     “Very profound of you, David.” He couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip.

     “What can I say, I am the embodiment of love.”

     “Right, and is that why you've been married three times and are on wife number four?”

     They both laughed, hearty and full, and for the first time since they started talking, Aaron found himself feeling a lot lighter. It was nice to finally have someone who knew his secret feelings for the young genius, and be able to actually have someone to talk to and confide in about it. 

     Rossi's phone ringing broke the moment though, and he reached into his pocket, just looking at the screen and not answering. “Well, my ride to the airport is here. I will see you in two weeks, do not call me.”

     Aaron let loose one last light chuckle, moving along with Dave to see him out. With a smile and a pat on the back as they reached the door he said, “I'll try not to, enjoy your time in Italy.”

     “Oh I intend to,” he opened the door, then turned back at the last minute, “but do me a favor will ya. Don't call me, but do call Spencer.”

     Aaron just smiled, gave Dave a small push out the door, and answered, “Good bye, David.”

     Once he was out the door and down the stairs, Aaron closed the door and took a step to the side to watch him cross the bullpen. He gave a quick goodbye to Spencer as he passed, and then he was gone. Then his eyes wandered over to the last person left besides himself, still sitting alone at his desk, leaned back reading his book. He sighed, watching Spencer for a moment longer before thinking to himself, maybe David was right. Why should he worry about all that other nonsense? Besides, he would never know if Spencer felt the same unless he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aaron finally finished organizing the paperwork explosion on his desk, filing away what was finished and adding the rest to his bag, then was finally able to head out. 

     It had been a good two hours since Rossi had left his office, leaving Aaron with all kinds of things to think about, and the man that those thoughts were all about was still sitting in the same spot he had been in since vacation officially began. Though now, Spencer was already halfway through his second book. 

     As he passed him, the younger man not even so much as lifting his eyes from his book, he said a quiet, “Have a good vacation, Reid.”

     “You too, Hotch,” he answered back, and Aaron just about kept walking, but stopped himself at the last minute and turned back.

     They were currently alone, no one else around but him and Spencer, so now was just as good a time as any. “Reid…”

     At the questioning tone to his name, Spencer looked up at Hotch who was now standing right in front of him, “Yeah?”

     “I… I was…'' Spencer was still looking up at him with concerned eyes, a furrowed brow, and if Aaron was being honest, a super cute frown. Now, what Aaron wanted to say was ‘Spencer, I know that you and I are the only two who will be remaining in town for the duration of our vacation time, and I was wondering perhaps, if you would like to take advantage of the fact and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’ But what he actually managed to come out with instead, was a sad and defeated, “I… I just wanted to wish you well. I hope you have a good fourteen days, and I heard you will be attending a lecture series, I hope it's informative.”

     “Right…” Hotch couldn't be certain, but he was sure that Spencer almost looked… disappointed? “An-anything else?”

     “... No, I don't believe so.” And before he could stumble his way through any more embarrassing sentences he quickly said, “Good night,” and left before Spencer could even return the sentiment. Leaving him staring, still confused and a little down, after a fast walking Aaron, not having the courage to even look back as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Derek woke for the first time well rested and relaxed. No case to solve, no unsub on his mind, no high speed chase down unfamiliar roads, and no showdown with a psychopath in some dark abandoned warehouse. It was just him, the sun, the sand, and two weeks of relaxing and sleeping late, eating more than he probably should and shoving as much fun into two weeks as was completely possible.

     Now, those were Derek's original plans. The plans he made before he left Quantico, Virginia for the beaches in Barbados. For the all night parties, the beautiful ladies, and the all inclusive never ending free drinks. And yet, here he found himself, within arm's reach of all those things, and not doing a single one of them. 

     Instead, Derek walked down the beach and found an empty lounge chair tucked under a very colourful umbrella. A sprite and lime with ice in hand, he stood and looked out at the calming ebb and flow of the ocean, letting the soft crashing of the waves take over and clear his mind completely. It was nice, the best he'd felt in a long, long time. 

     A volleyball skid to a halt at his feet, covering his toes in warm sand, caught his attention and he turned to face the small group of women off to his side. He kicked the ball back over to them, each one of them very obviously interested in getting to know Derek, even if it were just for one night. But to his own surprise, he found himself flashing a smile and a wave in decline of their invitation to come play, and instead took up his seat in the covered lounge chair. 

     He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, took a sip of his drink, then reached down to the small bag he had tucked under the chair, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He settled back in the chair, not able to help the smile that spread across his face as he read the title of the book in his hands, 'The Art of War', and settled back to read it with a quietly muttered, "Damn you, Spencer Reid."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there is chapter 1, chapter 2 to come soon! I’m super excited about this guys XD

And if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please let me know <3

[jadelotusflower]

June 2021 Roundup

It's been a month of highs and lows. Every year my city holds a cabaret festival, and I've seen some truly amazing acts over the years - including Lea Salonga, Kristin Chenoweth, and Indina Menzel. This year's Artistic Director was the great Alan Cumming, and although due to covid he didn't quite get to curate the program he wanted to, the opening night Gala was still a highlight, as was Alan's DJ set at the pop-up Club Cumming afterwards, where there was much singing at the top of my lungs and dancing to pop anthems and theatre tunes. At one point Alan, dressed in a onesie and perched on the shoulders of a man wearing only sparkly short shorts, was carried around the dance floor while Circle of Life blared. Reader, I was delighted.

I was also able to see his solo show Alan Cumming Is Not Acting His Age, which was hilarious and damn, he can sing!

As for the low, I was meant to fly to Sydney for the weekend to see Hamilton, a trip I have been looking forward to for almost a year, but had to be cancelled because of a covid outbreak and border closures. The tickets have been rescheduled, but I'm still kind of bummed about it (while completely appreciating the need for covid safety, especially when our vaccine rollout has been completely botched by our incompetent, corrupt federal government)

Anyway.

Reading

The Hundred and One Dalmations (Dodie Smith) - With all the bewilderment over Disney's Cruella, I decided to revisit the original novel which I first read as a kid. It's funny, I had very vivid memories of this book, or rather thought I did, particularly the scene where Roger and Anita have dinner at Cruella's house that fixed in my young mind as utterly disturbing with all this devil imagery and the implication Cruella was literally some kind of demon, which must have been either a) my overactive imagination or b) an illustration, because it's not as clear as I thought it was. The strangeness is there (food with too much pepper, Cruella's inability to keep warm, the walls painted blood red) but not the explicit demon imagery I had remembered. There is a part later in the book recounting the history of Hell Hall and the rumors of Cruella's ancestor streaking out of the place conjuring blue lightening, but clearly child me was reading far more into the book than was on the page.

But I still wish they'd gone with this version of Cruella's backstory, because to me an aristocratic, ink-drinking, heat-obsessed, possibly-demon spawn, high camp villain is more interesting and rings far more true than plucky punk against the establishment.

Smith clearly had Facts About Dalmations to share, and she does really craft a wonderful animal-based story that the Disney animated film is largely faithful to. Key differences include: Roger's occupation (he doesn't have to pay tax because he wiped out government debt somehow?!?), Pongo's mate and the puppy's mother is called Missis, Perdita is another dalmation who acts as a kind of doggie wet nurse, Roger and Anita both have Nannies who come to live with them (Nanny Butler and Nanny Cook), Cruella is married to a furrier (who changed his last name to de Vil). Also odd, on her first description Cruella is described as having "dark skin" but later in the novel her "white face" is mentioned, so I'm chalking it up to 50's descriptors not having the same meanings they do today.

The Duke and I (Julia Quinn) - After being just whelmed by the tv series, I wasn't really planning on reading the books, but I saw this on the top picks shelf at the library and damn, the top picks shelf is irresistible. This is very much Daphne's book (and I had known each in the series dealt with the different sibling) so many of the characters and much of the plot of the show is absent, as are some of the more baffling elements of the show like the Diamond of the First Water nonsense, which I always thought was a strange character choice in that it stacks the deck for Daphne when her character arc is better served as somewhat of an underdog (in her third season, the kind of girl who is liked but not adored), and the Prince subplot which was always far too OTT even for soapy regency romance.

It's a breezy, fun read (that scene excepted), even if the misunderstandings are contrived and I'm never going to take "I'll never have kids because I hate my dad" as a credible romantic obstacle deserving of so much angst.

Faeries (Brian Froud and Alan Lee) - A lovingly detailed and illustrated compendium of Faerie and its inhabitants, drawing from a range of European (but primarily Celtic) folklore and mythology. Froud was a conceptual designer on The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, and the link is clear in the art as well as the focus on faeries as mysterious but oftimes sinister beings, where human encounters with them rarely end well. Lee has illustrated several publications of Tolkien's novels, and was a lead concept artists for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies, and there is a touch of Middle Earth here as well, or rather the common inspiration of the old world. A useful resource for my novel!

Watching

The Handmaid's Tale (season 4, episodes 4-8) SPOILERS - So when I last wrote about this show in the Roundup, I was complaining it wasn't going anywhere. Well, I'm happy to be wrong because they finally changed things up with June finally escaping to Canada. That part of the plot following the survivors and their trauma has always been far more compelling than Gilead, and so it was a welcome development even if I side-eye some of the choices (none of these characters is seeing an actual licensed therapist why?).

This show has always been difficult to watch given the subject matter, and that has not changed after the shift in power dynamics. I will give the show credit for showing a broad range of trauma responses, from Moira wanting to move on and not let it consume her, to June, a ball of rage and revenge on a downward spiral, to Emily, trying to follow Moira's path but being drawn to June's, to Luke, trying his best but utterly unequipped to deal with what is happening.

But it is very hard to watch June go down this path - raping her husband (I concede the show perhaps didn't intend for it to be rape, but that's what is on screen and framing it as just "taking away Luke's agency" doesn't change that), wishing death on Serena's unborn child, and orchestrating Fred's brutal murder by particulation, then holding her own daughter still covered in his blood and it getting smeared on Nicole's face (an unsubtle metaphor in a series full of unsubtle metaphors).

There are interesting questions being asked of the viewer, and the show (perhaps rightly) not giving any answers. I can certainly appreciate the catharsis of Fred getting what he deserves even if I personally find the manner of it horrifying, but where is the line between justice and revenge, is revenge the only option when justice is denied, when does a trauma release become cyclical violence/abuse - the show is, for now, letting the viewer decide.

Soul (dir. Pete Docter and Kemp Powers) - In a world full of remakes/reboots/sequels, Pixar is perhaps the lone segment under the Disney umbrella committed to original content. However, there does seem to be a Pixar formula at work directed to precision tugging the heart strings, and some of the film feels like well-trod ground. On the other hand, it's hard to criticise the risk of centering a kids film around the existential crisis of a middle aged man, even with the requisite cutesy elements (and of course, the uncomfortable pattern of yet another film where the black lead character spends a great deal of the runtime in non-human form - herein, an amorphous blob or a cat). But the animation is stunning, it successfully did tug my heart strings, and the design of the Great Before and the Jerrys is original and fun.

RuPaul's Drag Race Down Under - Drag Race is somewhat of a guilty pleasure for me, since I generally don't watch reality shows, and this is something I really enjoy even if I'm not invested in the fandom (which like many fandoms can be very yikes). This year it was time for the Australian/New Zealand (Aotearoa) queens to show their stuff, although it's been met with mixed reactions. Covid restrictions didn't allow for guest judges, relegating them to mere cameos via video calls, and its clear that Ru and Michelle really don't quite get all the cultural nuances - Aussie judge Rhys Nicholson was however always delightful. But it wouldn't be Australia without a racism scandal, with the great disappointment of the two queens of colour eliminated first, and one queen having done blackface in the recent past yet making it all the way to the top four.

In the end, the only viable and deserving winner was last Kiwi standing Kita Mean, and it was pure joy to see her get crowned. I do hope they fix the bugs and indeed do another season to better showcase AU/NZ talent.

Writing

A far more productive month - to try and get out of my writing funk I had a goal to try and write every day, even if it was only 100 words. While I didn't quite achieve a consecutive month, I did get a pretty good average, at least got something posted and two others nearly there.

The Lady of the Lake - 2441 words, Chapter 4 posted.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2745 words

Turn Your Face to the Sun - 1752 words.

Here I Go Again - 1144 words

Total words this month: 8082

Total words this year: 35,551

[ghost-writing]

The Monster 3/?? - August Walker fanfic

PART THREE - Change

Word count: 2.7k  

Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of violence and murder, swearing and bad language (in English and in Dutch!), some angst I suppose. And August Walker. (The Kingstache deserves its own warning.) And it’s probably full of typos and redundancies. If you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Part one can be found here, and part two here!

She felt tense. She was certain he'd try something during the “London expedition”, as Simon had named it. She had checked the reservations, and he only booked three rooms for the four of them, arguing that Simon and Niklaas could share, and assuring her that she would have her own room. Could be true, could be a ruse. Still she would've bet that Agent Control Freak had something planned. It was something in his eyes, faint but present. So she readied herself for a battle. A battle for power over the other. She would not let him get what he wanted that easily. But her team had to remain clueless of what was going on. She would not allow them to find out what was going on between the two of them. Because Niklaas would definitely use it against her.

She arrived early at the station. Simon was already there, his usual anxious self. Walker got there briefly after her. As if he had been following her. He probably had. That creep. After greeting them curtly, he sent Simon to the coffee shop. “My treat”, he said, giving him some money. She then was sure he most definitely had followed her. An intuition. Simon almost ran, happy to oblige, already salivating at the idea of fresh croissants he wouldn't pay for.

“Couldn't get them yourself?”

“Simon knows everybody's preferences in coffee. I only know how you like your tea.”

“And you know that we'll get breakfast on board with our 1st class ticket, right?”

“I do.”

She sniggered. “Ok. Spill the beans.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, trying to look perfectly innocent. “What the hell do you want, Walker?”

“I don't know what you are talking about.” He looked at someone behind her. “Den Boer. Almost late.”

“Rot op, kut”, the young agent muttered.

“What was that, Nik?” Frankie would not pass an occasion of putting that kid back in his place. He turned a deep shade of red, remembering she knew many Dutch curse words, and looked at her right in the eyes, mentally slapping her or spitting in her face, no doubt.

“I... I'm in a bad mood. Alarm clock did not go off this morning. Still, I am right on time, and Simon is not!” His triumph was short lived, as the coffee boy arrived, one hand holding a cardboard tray with four cups, and the other a bag of baked goods. Frankie's stomach growled instantly at the smell of pastry. Walker looked at her, with that unbearable smirk half hidden by his mustache, as if telling her “I knew you'd enjoy something to eat right away. Because I hid cameras in your apartment, and I know you did not eat anything since you woke up.”

“Klootzak”, she thought. “I so want to punch that smug face of his...” Apparently, she was now in a fouler mood than Niklaas.

She took it out on two croissants, eating in silence, sipping on her tea, avoiding to look at the big ass American spy who was gloating.

The speaker announcing that boarding would start shortly pulled her out of her ruminations. They all grabbed their hand-luggage, and rolled to their first class car. They were all seated  around a table, so they'd be able to go through the plan again during the two hour journey. It would not be necessary, but she knew that Simon would ask the same questions again.

As she lead the way, she sat next to the window, and shuddered when Walker sat right next to her. He did not seem to notice, taking her small suitcase without asking her, lifting it above their heads. She shivered again, noticing how effortless it seemed for him, so tall and strong and...

“Frankie! What's wrong?”, Simon asked.

“Headache”, she mumbled. “Give me another croissant.” His face fell.

“I took the last one”, Niklaas said, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Frankie breathed in, through her nose, slowly, deeply. “I'll kill you for that.” Only after that thought had passed, she allowed herself to breathe out, as slowly as she could, never breaking eye contact with Niklaas. The young man was not ready to back down either.

But Simon was noticeably uneasy, trying to calm things down. “Aren't we supposed to have breakfast on board? I suppose it'll be croissants... I'll give you mine, Frankie! I've had enough already.”

“No, thank you, Simon. You don't have to deprive yourself of your breakfast for me.” She forced herself to look and smile at him. Poor Simon was always stuck between her and that shithead. Said shithead felt like he had won this battle, and looked at Walker with a huge grin on his face.

“What are you so happy about, Den Boer?” Walker couldn't stand the kid either. He usually did not care much about the people he had to work with, like Simon. Frankie was a different thing entirely, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, they'd get under his skin almost instantly, as was the case with the other junior officer. That one was not working hard enough, and acted as if he already knew everything he had to know. From experience, those were the worst kind, the most dangerous too.

“No answer? You're usually quite talkative when it comes to criticizing the Ice Queen...”

Niklaas' head almost exploded.

“Don't worry: she already knew you call her that. And worse.”

He looked at Frankie, who had murder in her eyes...

“Juniors, scram.” They didn't wait for further reasons, and left hurriedly.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck. Walker?”

She had paused between every word. Walker saw she was trying to control her wrath through her breathing, but did not understand right away why she was now so angry at him. He remained silent, not sure what answer he should give her.

“What the fuck are you doing? You are... Just... Weird. Stop being weird. Stop it! We're going to London to do a job. I don't know what's going on in your head, but get yourself in check and focus on that fucking job. For fuck sake...”

She stood up, and left him alone. He should have known treating her like a damsel in distress was not going to work. He should have known she'd put up a fight.

The rest of the journey was filled with awkward silences and quick questions about the case. When they got to the hotel, Frankie switched rooms with Simon and Niklaas: she absolutely did not want to be in the room next to Walker's, as they had a communicating door.

She barely talked to him that first day. They met the person they were supposed to get intel from, but that brought up another problem. They now had to go to the countryside to find someone else. But they'd have to conceal their identities and actual purpose. So, the whole team couldn't go, and Niklaas had the most ridiculous idea.

“Frankie, you should go with Agent Walker, pretend you're a married couple...” Again, his eyes were full of pride and mischief. He knew that would bother her. What else did he know?

While she was struggling to find an answer that wouldn't sound too angry, she heard the American say: “No. I'll go alone.”

“You'll look less threatening with a woman...”, tried Simon.

They all looked at Frankie, and something in her made their faces contort in three different expressions, but all meant “This might not be the less threatening-looking woman there is, but she'll have to make do, because it's the only one we have”. Her murderous intents had clearly reappeared.

“Maybe with a cute flowery dress...” Simon regretted his words instantly. Frankie's lips were shut tight, her jaw clenched, her anger palpable. Her silence only made her even more frightening.

“We should find another story”, cut Walker.

And then, Frankie heard herself say “We'll manage. It's only for a couple of days...”

“And at least two whole nights”, teased Niklaas, under his breath. He knew something. He definitely knew something.

Hearing that, Walker straightened his imposing frame, meaning to put an end to this silly conversation. “I said no.”

“I'm the leading officer here, CIA. You're only tagging along. And I say we're doing this. Simon, can you...” She felt queasy at the thought.

“Rent a car, search for a nice hotel in the area, and book a room for the happy couple, sure! I'll contact Emily... I mean: Agent Richards! For the details of your covert identity, Agent Walker...” And Simon skedaddled, followed by his colleague, leaving Frankie and Walker alone in his room.

After a moment of silence, Frankie trying to assert her dominance over her counterpart, Walker attempted a joke.

“Well, nobody is going to believe we're a happy couple, if you look at me that way...”

“I don't have to pretend yet.”

She moved towards the door.

“Wait! We have to... Plan this.”

“We'll have time for that while driving there. Now, I have to go shopping...” Turning around, she looked at him. “Maybe you should too.”

And she left him, confused, worried, and wondering what was wrong with his wardrobe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Walker was driving their rented car to the hotel they were supposed to sleep at. In the same room, of course. They had made contact with Peggy, the person they came all that way to meet. Peggy was now called Elizabeth, and was posing as a rich widow, taking care of a small art gallery in a picturesque village in the country side. Expecting her to be weary of strangers, they did not push their luck with her: Walker barely talked to her, most of the work was left to Frankie. She managed to have a lengthy conversation with Elizabeth, about the things a young couple could do in the area: where to eat, what to visit – even each on their own. Frankie pushed the “wife angry at her husband” story-line, because it seemed to work on their target. That woman had no trouble believing they were really married, because “Françoise” was genuinely mad at “Hank”. So, yes, Niklaas' stupid idea had actually worked, because of all the rage that tiny wife had towards her giant of a husband. The best lies are the ones anchored in truth.

But Frankie was drained, unable to conceive that she'd have to play that role for at least a couple more days, spending as many nights in the same room as him... So, when they arrived at the hotel, she went straight to the small restaurant, leaving him to take care of the reservation and the luggage. She sat at a table in a corner of the dining room, ordered a cocktail, drank it whole straight away, and ordered another, plus the lamb dish for herself, and the beef one for Walker. “Ugh! Him...” This mission was not easy, but the worse part was being with him. Him, constantly trying to hold her hand, or putting his arm around her waist or her shoulder. Him, ogling her like she was a flower and he was after her nectar. Him, his warm body, so tall and so wide, smelling so nice... Him. His huge hands. His stupid mustache. His hard cock... “Ugh!”, she hissed, full of rage and lust. She had already downed half her  second glass when she saw him enter the room.

Getting inside the eating area of the inn, he saw her sitting at a table in a corner, away from the two other couple of guests who were already enjoying their meals. An older lady smiled at him, which her husband did not notice because he was focused on Franken. As he sat down in front of her, she gestured at the waitress to bring her another glass.

“I ordered food.”

“Thank you. But no drink for me?” He grabbed her glass and sniffed it. “What the hell is that?”

“Pear daiquiri. They're using local organic pears, it's nice and fresh. And it's my second glass already, because I need to unwind. Oh, here comes the third!” She finished her glass.

The waitress put the cocktail in front of Franken. “They're delicious, aren't they? Do you want one too, sir?” She smiled and batted her lashes at Walker.

“I'll have a scotch, thank you.”

He did not look at her leaving, but he noticed that whatever she did, it irritated his fake wife: she sighed in exasperation.

“We need to talk.”

She sighed some more. “Can I at least eat in peace, please?”

“It doesn't have to be a battle, we can have a quiet, civilized conversation.”

He saw rage in her eyes. He also noticed that she was exhausted. Or maybe it was the rum kicking in, or rather kicking her down.

“I'm sorry for the other night.”

This time, her face was blank. She did not believe him.

“I really am. I've thought about it a lot, and I know I made a mistake.”

Still nothing from her. How did that woman, who had looked so angry with him for the past week and a half, especially since yesterday, could now look that calm and unaffected?

“When was the last time you apologized?” Her tone was quiet, yet threatening. “To anyone.”

She looked at him right in the eyes. Walker made a mental note to never play poker with that woman, because she was not giving any clue to where she was going with that question. So, he tried sincerity, for once.

“I don't remember. It's not very often I do.”

“Why?” She drank, just a gulp.

He chuckled a little. “I don't like being wrong.”

“No, I mean, why to me? Why now?”

That's where she wanted to go. He realized she had done the same thing the other night, when she called him a boy... She had cornered him, just like now. Not leaving him any room for action, forcing him to go forward. He remembered she studied psychology and criminology. He remembered her file said she was good at interrogating suspects. He remembered how she got the man in London to tell them about Peggy and her location. He got played.

“Was it all an act? Your hostility, today?”

The waitress arrived with their plates. “Lamb?”

“That's me”, she said. “He's the beef.” The girl put their respective plates in front of them, and came back right away with Walker's scotch, trying to make eye contact, but he did not react.

Frankie smelled the food, and relaxed. She was starving, and drunk too. She cut a piece of her meat, swiped some gravy, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

“Hmm... Good!” She opened her eyes, and Walker's face was another good thing. It was not the first time she saw that face, she often had that effect on people. But she was fairly surprised that a CIA agent had not seen her coming.

“It was all an act...”

“It wasn't.” She kept eating her dish. “It's really good, eat while it's still warm.”

“But...”

She cut him off. “It wasn't. I find you're insufferable. I didn't mind how smug you were, at first, but I don't know how I've managed to not slap you in the past few days... Or kick you in the balls.” She lifted her knife in front of her. “Or stab you multiple times, dismember your corpse, and disseminate the evidence across the English countryside.” She went back to eating her food like what she just said did not made her sound like a psycho. He still had not started his plate yet.

He took a deep breath, like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself, drank his glass in one go, and started his dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GUYS! You have no idea how hard it was to get to this... 3 months since I posted part 2. I wrote and re-wrote this, at least 3 times, if not 4. I just HATED what came out. I didn’t like how they were interacting with each other, or with others... It just felt WRONG. 

And then, I don’t know how, Frankie changed her act, she was different: she was a mean cat and August suddenly was a little mouse stuck in her claws. And that weirdly felt RIGHT. (Maybe it’s because I watched How to Get Away with Murder. So: thank you, Annalise Keating, I guess... ^_^ )

So, I’m sorry there’s no smut (there should be in part 4, if I get to finish it!), but I’m so relieved...

[slutforgoodliterature]

Something Wicked - Part 2

Chapter Two - Dead Poets Society 

Warnings: angst, descriptions of extreme violence, swearing

A/N: thanks for all the love on part one! I had actually finished writing this second part last week but then I accidentally pressed Control-T and the whole thing deleted so... don’t press Control-T basically 🙃

Also, this is what I imagine Natalie to look like! I always like having a visual, ignore this picture if you don’t want her to look this way I guess ahaha (Rose Salazar for anyone who’s wondering)

The drive to the police precinct is super uncomfortable. Spencer’s leg is pressed against mine the whole way, and because I’m stuck in the middle there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. He seems like he’s trying to position himself as far from me as possible as well, but the freaking spider has too-long legs that barely fit in the back of this SUV.

When we arrive, Immediately  put as much space between him and I as possible and seek out Chief Willoughby.

“Hi, Natalie Hart, public liaison for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. This is my…” I sense Spencer hovering over my shoulder, “colleague, Special Agent Spencer Reid.” I hold out my hand for the chief of police to shake.

He ignores my hand and instead scans me head to toe, staying silent.

“We’re here to assist you with the recent string of home invasions and murders?” I raise a brow at him.

Willoughby huffs. “Well, I can tell you it wasn’t my choice to get you guys to come on down here, but my second in command seems to have a lot of faith in your mind-reading mumbo jumbo.”

I drop my hand. This will be fun.

“Actually, Chief Willoughby, the job of the BAU is not to do any mind reading. We instead study cues and behaviour and use these skills in situations such as these to give insight into the people who commit these crimes. From there, we create a profile that aids your people to narrow down a suspect pool-“

Spencer is cut off by an aggressive cough from Willoughby.

“Yes okay, okay. It’s good you’re here. I got one of the officers to clear out an office for you, just that door there.” He points and we start to head over. Before I shut the door behind us, I look back at him and give him my best glare.

“I can only help as much as you let me, Chief. We want to stop this just as much as you do.” He stares back at me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t let your ego get in the way.” He nods once and turns on his heel.

“What did you say to him?” Spencer asks as I enter the office. He’s already got a map tacked to the wall and is circling specific points, I’m assuming where the murders happened.

“Does it matter?” I sigh, already at my wits end from dealing with one asshole. I don’t need another one on my back.

“We need to be courteous to these people, Natalie. If they ask us to leave because you snapped at him, then-“ He begins to berate me but I whirl around and point a finger up at him, seeing as he’s at least a head taller than me.

“Thanks for the lecture, John Lennon. Funnily enough, as a public liaison, I know how to deal with people. He needed to know we would take it seriously, and men like him never respect women who don’t stand up for themselves.” His eyes widen as I almost yell at him.

Before he can respond, the ringing of a phone breaks us out of our glaring contest. He picks it up quickly and exchanges a few words with whoever is on the other end before finally saying “We’ll be there in 10.”

He avoids my eyes and slings his back over his shoulder. “There’s been another family discovered. Same killer, Hotch wants us there ASAP.”

I nod wordlessly.

The second we arrive, journalists and TV crews flock the car.

“I’ll deal with them, meet you inside in a minute.” I wave Spencer off.

“You sure you can-“ he starts but I cut him off.

“Stop doubting me for one second and get your ass inside before I become your next unsub.” I smile sweetly at him, but he must see the rage in my eyes because he hurries away.

As the press clamours for information, I stand stoically in front of the cameras and answer their questions in the limited way I can.

“Yes, the FBI is here to assist in the investigation into the current string of murders. Yes, we are doing all we can to apprehend whoever is behind this. No, I will not be discussing the details of the case.”

One question in particular catches me off guard.

“Can you comment on the rumour he’s leaving written messages at the crime scene?” I search the crowd for whoever said that, but whoever did has faded into the crowd.

“As I said, I will not be discussing the case. Nothing more to be said at this point in time.” I turn on my heels, ignoring the yelling behind me, and disappear into the house.

I find the others in the living room and I’m confronted by blood. So much blood. The bodies of the family are strewn across the floor. I balk and cover my mouth in a fist, knowing I’d let out and embarrassing sound. I turn to face the doorway, avoiding the gore.

On the wall across from me are bright red words that send a chill down my spine.

Written in blood reads: I will drain him dry as hay

“You handled the press well. Hotch was impressed.” Rossi sneaks up behind me and I jump slightly at the sudden voice.

“Just doing my job.” I mutter. He pats me on the shoulder knowingly and turns back to the group.

I tune out their conversation as they discuss the bodies before them. I don’t need those images in my head. The bodies haphazardly covered by sheets is enough for me.

“The quote is another one from Shakespeare. Same play as the last one.” Spencer states, studying the wall.

“Yeah, Macbeth. Like Natalie said.” Emily smiled at me warmly. Spencer swallows thickly and shoots me a short, cold look.

“Exactly. Both quotes are actually from the three witches, who basically curse Macbeth for becoming so power hungry. In fact, Macbeth himself is the ‘something wicked’ that the first quote references.” He continues.

“So the unsub is attacking people he thinks are power hungry and successful?” Derek asks the room.

“I think that’s highly likely. So far, all the victims have been relatively wealthy families.” Hotch says without emotion.

“But if the unsub is targeting the man of the house, how come they’re the only ones that aren’t beaten.” Emily says. “They seem to get the most merciful death. The mothers, on the other hand…” everyone turns to look at the brutalised woman on the ground.

“In the play, Lady Macbeth is actually seen as the one controlling Macbeth and pushing him to be so ruthless.” I add quietly. Every head swivels to me.

“That’s a good point Natalie.” Hotch nods thoughtfully. Spencer even looks impressed with my observation. “The unsub might be targeting the women he believes are pushing their husbands to be successful.”

“Maybe a wife of his own left him because he didn’t achieve her standards? That could be the motive.” Derek says.

“And a stressor.” Emily sighs.

“So what, we just search up every guy in Memphis who’s recently been through a divorce?” Rossi scoffs. “That’ll take days. We need to narrow it down more.”

“Shakespeare seems to have a significant meaning to this unsub. I suggest we take that into account.” Spencer offers and I find myself nodding in agreement.

Derek pulls out a phone and dials quickly.

“You’ve reached the goddess of all things tech. How can I help you?” Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“Babygirl, we need a list of all antique book dealers and shops that sell old books. Pay special attention to those that deal a lot with Shakespeare.” Derek instructs. The sound of rapid typing then a beep follows.

“Ok, I’ve got around 78 bookstores and dealers that match that description. Anyway I can narrow that down for you?”

“Look at the men who have recently gone through divorce or have fallen on financial problems recently.” Rossi says into the phone.

More typing, then: “Ok, I’ve got three. A Joel Macpherson who runs an antique bookshop, Carl Thompson who specialises in  selling first-edition Shakespeare and to complete this triad of potential mass murders is Leopold van der Fell. His shop is on the other side of town and he runs a book club that exclusively reads Shakespeare."

“Send us the addresses please, baby girl.” Derek says and Garcia scoffs.

“Oh, yee have little faith. They’re already on your phones.” On more thank you and Hotch scans us.

“Rossi, you and Derek speak to Joel Macpherson. Reid, take Natalie and see Leopold. Emily and I will visit Carl Thompson.” Without a second word, everyone begins filing out of the room and into their respective cars.

Spencer looks at me and sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

I roll my eyes and make my way to the car, hopping into the drivers seat.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Spencer asks as he gets in the passenger side.

“My god! Can I not do anything without you questioning me?” I cry, turning in my seat to face him. He stares at his hands.

“I meant that seeing that inside probably shook you up. I don’t want you driving if your head is elsewhere.”

I’m taken aback by his thoughtfulness. I swallow loudly and put the car in park, backing out of the driveway.

“I could use the distraction.” I answer after a stretch of silence.

I see him nod out of the corner of my eyes. “Okay, I get it.”

I allow myself to relax in my seat. “Thanks.” I mutter.

“But if you crash because you’re distracted, don’t say I didn’t want you.” He adds.

“There’s the asshole I know and love.” I turn the radio on and drown out his response. “Now, shut up and give me directions.”

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Lavender and Daisies

Steve Harrington x Holland!Reader, Max Mayfield x Reader (PLATONIC)

Word Count: 4,183

Warnings: Death, grief, violence, mourning, funerals, angst, crying, swearing

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @thechickvic @moonstruckhargrove @hotstuffhargrove @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @agentsinstorybrooke @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @marvelismylifffe @spidey-pal

You found yourself drawn to the Hawkins Cemetery after the announcement of the Starcourt Mall’s demise.  You’d spent a lot of time there two years prior. Two years ago you knew why you spent so much time around those gravestones. This time, you weren’t sure.

You always made sure to dress appropriately for the stones. Your mother had drilled it into your head, after your Great Aunt Amelia’s funeral almost twelve years ago, that the souls of the dead were offended by any colours other than black, grey, and navy blue. Dark winter tones were the only colours appropriate for the stones. You couldn’t help your bright yellow converse sneakers though; they were your only shoes with flat soles and anything with a heel would sink into the grass, loose dirt, and mud.

You knew how to dress for a funeral. You were a Holland girl.

You lost your baby sister Barb in your junior year. It destroyed you. She was this little dork you’d been trying to protect since the day she was born. You were Irish twins, less than a year apart. Your sister was a miracle baby; your parents were told by several doctors that they wouldn’t be able to have children after you, due to a seemingly botched c-section. When they found out that they were pregnant again so soon after having you, they had to go through with the pregnancy, purely because they might never have another shot at a kid.

Barb was your sweet little geeky sister, with her prissy friends and her homework parties. You still felt guilty about not telling her to skip the party she was going to. Not that Steve Harrington inherently threw dangerous parties, simply that you knew that it wouldn’t be her scene. Not that you thought she’d listen, Barb was a teenager. Teenagers never listen, especially when they had it in their heads that they were right. So you mourned her death hard. You spent every day at her grave site for the first year. Your parents had intended to use their life savings to pay for a private investigator to research her disappearance. And while, at the time you weren’t sure as to whether or not she was even alive, you weren’t comfortable with them selling everything to hire some random guy they found in the penny saver. You moved in with your Aunt Jeanine while your parents lost their minds for awhile, so you could try to keep your mind on your studies. And while living with your aunt and her four kids, all no older than preteens, off a pull out couch in their basement wasn’t easy, you made it work.

You graduated. But you didn’t get into any colleges. And once Barb was discovered dead, covered up by an evil corporation, you were forced to deal with your own issues head on.

Staying in Hawkins and going back to high school was the only way to clean up the mess you’d made of your own life. It meant you could stay close to Barb, which your parents had trouble doing. They were destroyed with grief, you understood why they felt the need to sew their wild oats and try to discover themselves beyond their pain.

The Hawkins Cemetery was like a second home to you now. You found yourself wandering around even when you felt well enough to not have to visit Barb every day. You found yourself wondering about the people who’d been buried there for years. You did your best to mourn them properly, dressed in your darks and keeping quiet. You tried to avoid funerals whenever you could.

Today, you ran into one.

Neil Hargrove didn’t get around to planning his son’s funeral until almost August. He’d demanded that his wife do it for him, but Susan was having none of it. It wasn’t as if she hated Billy, but she hardly knew him, he’d only been her stepson for two years and he hadn’t exactly let her into his world. Neil was forced to do it himself. So he paid for the cheapest funeral possible. And he refused to call his ex-wife, Emily; Susan had to call her herself, the one thing she did to help plan the thing.

The day of Billy’s funeral was hellish hot, he probably would’ve loved it. The sun beat down on the scattered, small group like migraine, sending sweat pooling down each and every mourner’s back and making their heads pound painfully. You found yourself wandering cautiously into the mix, fitting in just enough and just intrigued by the scene enough to stay. You and Billy weren’t friends, you wouldn’t even say that you liked the guy, but you felt bad for his family over what had happened.

Neil Hargrove wiped his forehead and moustache with his white handkerchief, shoving it violently into his pocket. His eyes were dry as the pastor spoke over the coffin, a small wreath of roses on its lid. Susan stood at his side, trying to whimper quietly, her green eyes misty and her thin red lip quivering slightly. Her hand was squeezed tight in her daughter Max’s, whose free hand was wrapped around the end of a tight red braid. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her whole face red and splotchy. You’d guess that she’d been crying for over an hour and by the heavy purple bags under her eyes, she hadn’t much sleep the night before.

You knew that look. You’d been in her shoes. You felt like you were kindred sisters.

You recognized the rest of her little group, all in various stages of grieving. Mike Wheeler looked bored, his fists shoved into the pockets of his black dress pants. Lucas Sinclair had his arm wrapped around Max’s shoulders, watching her cautiously. Dustin Henderson and Will Byers seemed deeply uncomfortable, although Will seemed a bit more saddened than his friend. There was a girl with them who you didn’t recognize who was holding Will’s hand and leaning on his shoulder, tears brimming in her eyes.

Then there was Steve Harrington.

He made about as much sense being there as you did.

You understood why those kids were there, they had to be friends of Max, but Steve was an outlier. He wasn’t friends with Billy, hell they were enemies the second he sauntered into the parking lot of Hawkins High. You heard the stories about Billy beating the crap out of Steve and saw the evidence yourself. Why on earth would that boy show up here, in a suit, to stand in the burning heat with people who either don’t know him or don’t like him? You didn’t understand.

But his big brown eyes caught yours and you found yourself offering a shy, small smile, which he returned. The pastor signal for the group to join in the hymn listed in the funeral program and you found yourself slinking further into the back as the small, cracked voices of the mourners rang out in prayer, following along with the pastor. You hummed to the rhythm of their words, keeping your head down. Funerals always eventually became about god, even the concept of resting easy eluded to some sort of afterlife and almighty creator above. You didn’t exactly adore the concept of god, but it wasn’t something that you outright decried. You understood why religion was a fixture in society and you didn’t want anyone to feel lost or aimless. You understood that feeling tenfold.

When the hymn ended, you looked back to the children, who now huddled around little Max. The bored looking one, Mike, was whispering in her ear and her broken expression shifted slightly from sadness to anger as her brown eyes met yours.

The pastor finished his sermon and the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the ground. Some members of the group chose to throw handfuls of dirt onto the coffin. Susan tried to bring Max over to do so, but she refused. A bright blonde woman, whom you could only assume to be Billy’s mother, cried softly as she threw two handfuls onto the coffin, standing over it with this broken expression you could only match to your mothers just two years prior.

You didn’t add any yourself. Neither did Steve. The pastor announced that there would be refreshments at the nearby funeral home and most of the masses headed off behind the pastor. Susan again tried to egg Max on towards the funeral home, but she held back with her friends. You took one last look at the gravestone, noting the inscription “William Calvin Hargrove: Son, Brother, Friend; Mortui Vivos Docent”

Mortui Vivos Docent-The dead teach the living. The quote was on enough headstones to draw your attention and force you to learn its meaning. You wondered sarcastically what they expected to learn from his death. Just like that, he was another soon to be forgotten member of the Hawkins dead. Just four rows from Barb.

You turned on your heel, letting out a soft sigh through your nose, planning to return to your aunt’s house. You had promised to help her embroider cushions for your Cousin Sarah’s upcoming baby shower.

“Hey!” a loud, angry voice called after you and you turned back to meet the eye of Max Mayfield, whose freckled arms were crossed tightly over the front of her black button down blouse, the cardigan she’d had on for the ceremony already tied around her waist and her gaze stern.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, huh? This is a private burial.” She snapped angrily.

You simply shrugged “I’m sorry. I just wanted to pay my respects. I’ll go now.” You replied, trying again to head again, but the sound of angry footsteps following behind you.

“Who do you think you are? Barging in while my family grieves! This is a private occasion.” Max called after you.

“Max, stop it...” Lucas said softly and the footsteps stopped for a second. You turned to look at the group again. Lucas had grabbed her arm, tugging her away from you. The rest were huddled together, watching in slight horror. Max was seething. You guessed that they’d never seen her that angry before, or at least not in a very long time.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it was a private affair. I wouldn’t have intruded if I had known. I’m truly sorry for disturbing you.” You said slowly, keeping your gaze on hers as she tried to rip her arm out of Lucas’s grasp.

“What kind of funerals are public?!?” Max turned her attention to Lucas, her voice pooling with exasperation and disbelief.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you turned away heading towards the oldest plot of the cemetery, hoping to sit on the bench surrounded by lavender and daisies. “You’d be surprised...” you muttered, pulling the creamsicle coloured scrunchie off your wrist and pulling your hair up.

Something hard hit you in the back of the head. Several screams rang out as you stumbled forward from the sheer shock of the hit. It wasn’t a very hard hit, although it did sting.

“Max, what the fuck?” you heard a voice call as you turned to grab whatever had hit you. A black ballet flat. And then, suddenly, the other shoe and a foot clad in black tights were in your eye line. You stood up fast as a red fury came at you, tiny fists hitting your arms and shoulders and stomach. She was almost as tall as you and yet she was fighting like a small child. You let her land every blow as her friends and Steve came running after her, all screaming for her to stop.

“He was my brother...” you heard her mutter angrily over and over again, tears streaming fast down her cheeks, her face growing exponentially redder.

You wound your arms under her arms, pulling her to your chest tightly. “I know.” You said firmly as she fought against you “I know. I understand.” It took a couple moments, but eventually she stopped fighting, her head coming to your chest as a loud sob wracked through her tiny body, making her shake and lose her balance, pulling you down with her onto the grass. Your hand came down first, to soften the blow and once you hit the ground, it wrapped around her, rubbing her back softly. Your other hand came to her hair, petting it gently as her tears soaked into your shoulder.

You turned to the boys “Can one of you go and get her a cup of water? And maybe something to eat?” you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb her crying. Lucas nodded turning and jogging towards the funeral home. Mike grabbed the other girl’s hand and led her towards the funeral home. Dustin attempted to get Will to follow, but he simply sat on the grass next to Max’s feet, pulling his knees to his chest. Steve followed suit, sitting next to you.

“I know how you feel, its okay...” you muttered into her hair “Let it out, Max...” Max nodded softly into your shoulder. It took her a few tries, but eventually she sat up on her own and you let her go, letting your hands fall in between the two of you.

She sniffled loudly, wiping her nose again, her eyes still brimmed with tears and red. “How...how you know h-how I even f-feel?” she hiccupped between her syllables. She was starting to hyperventilate, but you saw as she tried to regulate her own breathing.

You lowered your gaze, focusing on the grass. Talking about was still hard. You focused on twisting your fingers into the grass, crossing your legs under you. “I lost my sister, Barb, just a couple years ago.” You said simply. Realization washed over the two, but you knew Steve recognized you.

None of the little party went to the funeral, but you’d seen them at the reception with Joyce Byers when you finally made it back to your parent’s home. You guessed that they didn’t know that you were her sister until that moment.

“I know how you feel about all of this: the pain of losing him, the regret, the anger at the world and at me. I felt the same thing with my sister.” You added, finally able to look up again.

Max crossed her arms over her chest, looking away towards the road less than ten feet away. “Y-you don’t k-know how I f-feel about y-you.” She replied bitterly

“Oh I do,” you chuckled to yourself “When I saw Steve at my sister’s funeral, I wanted to kill him.”

Max raised an eyebrow, which you took as your cue to keep going. “Steve wasn’t even friends with Barb, he didn’t even know her. And it was his stupid party that she went missing, how she got hurt by all that laboratory shit. When I saw him with all those people that loved her, I wanted to destroy him. As soon as the funeral was over, I went right over to him and started screaming at him. He let me try to beat the shit out of him.”

Steve chuckled softly at the memory. In truth, he only went to the funeral because he felt guilty. Guilty that it was at his house, guilty that he’d left her outside, guilty that he didn’t do anything to help her, that he didn’t even notice she’d disappeared until the police started asking him questions. He went to apologize to her, he couldn’t apologize to your parents, they wouldn’t let him. Instead, he apologized to you. He let you yell at him and hit him and cry into his shoulder and wear his jacket when you started to shiver from the cold.

And after that day, he started to check up on you. Little things at first, he knew that you wandered around here so he’d check to make sure that your car came and went. Sometimes he’d drive past your aunt’s house, because it was on his way home anyway, to make sure the car was in the driveway. When he saw you in school, he’d sometimes go over to you to make small talk. He’d eat lunch with you once Tommy and Carol ditched him to hang out with...well with Billy. It was hard to be bitter about that now. You were genuinely one of his only friends.

“I really am sorry for disturbing your mourning, Max. I really didn’t mean to.” Your words pulled Steve out of his memories and his gaze to you. It was a stark contrast to the last time he’d seen you here. Your skin was warm and rosy, your eyes clear and bright, your smile was...heart stopping. You looked so alive, it was beautiful to behold. When he first saw you, you looked so pale and fragile, small in your heavy black dress. But now you sat tall and you smiled like it didn’t hurt anymore. You were fully here, live in Technicolor, and so very alive. Steve couldn’t stop staring at you.

Max nodded softly “Its okay...” she said, looking to Will, who squeezed her shoulder. “C-can I ask you something?”

You smiled “Sure.”

“Does it get any easier?” Max looked so vulnerable, her eyes going wide, she looked almost as she was begging for an answer.

You took her hand gently, your eyes closing as you let out a small sigh through your nose. “It will in time.” You promised “But it won’t ever be okay.”

Max’s gaze dropped away and you squeezed her hand gently “I don’t mean that you won’t be okay, you will be just fine. I mean that what happened to Billy isn’t okay and it won’t be. But you will get some peace one day. It will just take some time, you have to heal.”

Lucas came running up, water from the paper he sported in hand sloshing with his steps. Dustin was behind, carrying a very full napkin. He stopped in front of Max, handing her the drink nervously. You let go of her hand and nodded for her to take the cup.

“We didn’t know what kind you’d like, so we just grabbed one of each.” He plopped down next to her on the grass, opening the napkin to reveal at least five cookies, all different flavours.

You stood up, brushing grass off your jeans “You gonna be alright, Max?” you asked. Max clutched the cup with both hands, taking small sips. She nodded. You smiled “Alright, then eat till you’re sick. Funeral cookies are the best cookies. And if you need anything, ever, you give me a call, okay? Anytime.”

As the kids picked at the cookies, you headed away from the scene. You felt good that you were able to help that little girl in any way you could. But sitting in the muggy feeling of sadness was exhausting and you really needed to breathe in air that wasn’t salty with tears.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Steve called after you and you slowed down, letting him catch up with you. He was wearing the same suit that he did to Barb’s funeral, you reckoned. He looked handsome in it. His hair was deflating and falling into his face, the summer heat making his sweat wash the hairspray out of his locks.

“What you did for Max, that was really cool.” He said, slightly out of breath. You both silently blamed the heat.

You shrugged “It’s the kind of stuff I’d wanted to hear when I was in her situation.” You arrived at your bench, the smell of lavender taking over your senses. You sat down on the bench, smiling at the peeling white paint and the daisies pooling around the tall grass, untouched and forgotten in the corner of the cemetery.

Steve sat down next to you tentatively “So, how are you feeling?” he asked, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket. You knew what he meant; funerals weren’t exactly your comfort zone. You’d confessed to him your deep fear of funerals now, of freaking out and embarrassing yourself. Of having a panic attack and making it about you.

“I’m okay,” you breathed out as his arm came around the back of the bench. You let out a heavy “I really shouldn’t have wandered over there, it wasn’t my place, but I couldn’t help it. I just felt...drawn to it. It was weird.”

“But you did okay. You didn’t freak out, right?” Steve offered with a smile. You nodded, looking down.

“I mean, what you did for Max...it was amazing. She’s been unmovable for weeks. If she’s not crying, she angry. No one’s been able to help. But you calmed her down. It was incredible!” Steve said, his gaze focusing on a faded gravestone for someone named Josephine Bray. “I wish I had been able to do that for you...” he added softly.

You turned to look at him, bewildered “What are you talking about? That’s exactly what you did for me!” you cried. Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re joking right? You told me all about your grandfather’s funeral and how much it hurt.”

“That was stupid shit...” Steve replied, leaning back to stare up at the bright blue sky. It was too beautiful a day for a funeral.

“No it wasn’t!” you slapped him in her chest, startling him into looking at you “Steve, you really helped me. You made me feel like I wasn’t alone, that I’d feel better eventually. You really helped me that day. I never thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to thank me that all. I mean it was my fault that your sister...” Steve trailed off, not wanted to finish the sentence.

“No it’s not.” You said. Steve shook his head and you repeated yourself firmly “Steve, no it’s not. It’s not your fault. It’s that terrible labs fucking fault. You didn’t know that she would get hurt. You didn’t do shit.”

“I could’ve made her stay inside.” Steve replied bitterly.

“And have her listen to you and Wheeler bone? You know she wouldn’t have gone for that!” you shot. That made Steve laugh against his better judgement. The image of poor Barb sitting in his living room, listening to the sound of his mattress squeak above her was so sad and cringe worthy.

“Okay, that’s fair.” He sighed “But I still could’ve done something...”

“Yeah, you probably could’ve. But the labs could’ve been safer in their disposal of waste or just not done those experiments. And Barb could’ve not gone to your house that night. There are a million variables that could be changed, but we aren’t in charge of any of them.”

You grabbed Steve’s free hand in yours. He looked down at you, a little surprised. “You can’t hold onto your guilt anymore. It’s not your fault. No one blames you.” You smiled up, his big brown eyes finally meeting yours. He swallowed, but nodded, squeezing your hand softly. It felt nice to have your hand in his, it was comforting.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked, pulling away from your gaze to look over the withering stones, growing over with grass and weeds.

“I got lost in here once, found old Jo and this little bench. Sometimes I come in here to read or think when it’s too loud at my aunt’s. It’s like it’s in its own world.” You explained softly.

“You still spend a lot of time here?” Steve asked, a little concerned with the idea of you still wandering around this place.

You sighed “I probably shouldn’t be. It’s just a bad habit now.” You replied, your face heating up just a bit. You knew that Steve had been looking out for you and he knew about your haunting of the funeral. You knew you shouldn’t be hanging around here anymore. It had become a force of habit, but you had to move on.

“You know, anytime your house gets too hectic, you can just come to mine. It’s usually pretty quiet. And I won’t like bug you or anything.” Steve offered shyly. “I mean, if you want to! I know that with your sister it might not be cool but I thought-”

Your hand came to his cheek, silencing him instantly. “Thank you, Steve.” You whispered, kissing him softly. Steve’s heart stopped in his chest, the world coming to a standstill. Your lips barely ghosted over his and you pulled back just as fast. You were far too scared to do anything more, to force yourself on him.

Steve didn’t pull you back, he didn’t want to scare you off. Instead, he let his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly. You didn’t know if you’d ever be in this position again, so you savoured it wholeheartedly. It was too beautiful a day to not enjoy it at least a little, with a pretty boy holding your hand.  

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Big Game: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: fluff, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"I didn't have anything against them, and they never did anything wrong to me, the way other people have all my life. Maybe they're just the ones who have to pay for it." - Perry Smith

It's been a rough couple of days, so the entire team plus their family members have decided to go out and have a good time at the local club that opened up right near the BAU. It's nice to go out and get drunk without the worry of having a case to be on. Team B is on the current case, giving your team, Team A, a much-needed break.

You, Penelope, Emily, Hotch, and his wife Haley, are all sitting at a table drinking and chatting together. Derek is on the dancefloor with some strangers that beckoned him to come over. JJ is playing some darts with people she just met in the bar. Spencer is talking with some of his friends that he invited over to talk about Star Trek or something like that. You don't want to be that girlfriend that always wants to be with her boyfriend, so you're giving him the space he needs to be with his friends.

It's taking everything in you to not grab him and bring him to the bathroom so you can have your way with him. Emily comes back with drinks in her hands for everyone, passing by Derek with a smirk on her face.

"Hey, Morgan be careful! The one in the back can take your wallet!"

"It's alright, I'll be a broke, happy man," he smirks and continues to grind on the girls he's dancing with.

"Cheers!" Hotch grins, taking his glass while the rest take theirs.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks.

"She means, am I being nice to you?" Hotch chuckles.

"Actually, everyone has been incredibly nice."

You look over at Penelope to see her staring at Derek with heart eyes. She's practically drooling over him.

"Look at him move. It's like a cat," she sighs dreamily.

"More like a dog!" Emily cackles.

"He did not ask them to dance. They asked him."

"Come on, Haley, let's go show them how it's done," Hotch grins and sets his glass down.

"I'm game if you are!" she giggles.

The husband and wife interlock hands as they shuffle to the dance floor to have some fun.

"I'm going to the loo. Do not let anyone steal my seat," Penelope states.

She leaves, and you look over at JJ who managed to catch your eyes. You grin and wave her over, and she is all too glad to leave their side and join her friends. She takes her drink and heads over to the table, passing by Spencer. She ruffles his hair on the way to the table, and you just chuckle at the look he gives her.

Penelope is back soon enough, and it's just the four girls who basically run the BAU team... or, that's what Penelope likes to say.

"That is a man right there," Penelope drawls at Derek once again.

"No, Spencer is a man. Just look how cute he is," you gush, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

"He's not my type, but I'm glad he makes you happy," Emily smiles.

"He makes me more than happy, Emily. I don't know where I'd be without him. We've only been together for a year and a half, but I can't imagine my life without him."

All three girls "awe" in unison, causing your cheeks to heat up in embarrassment.

"Have you slept with him yet?" JJ asks the question on everyone's minds.

"A few times, yeah. He's very... submissive," you grin. You have enough alcohol in your system to be telling all of them this, especially Emily. "I'm trying to find ways to rough him up a bit so that he'll take charge sometimes. A girl needs to be manhandled every once in a while."

"I knew he was a submissive," Penelope gasps. "He's got that look about him."

"I dare you to go over to him and say something that will make him want to take you in the bathroom," Emily grins.

Damn, she must be as drunk as you. Still, you down your drink before getting up.

"Bet. Watch as I slash his IQ down to sixty," you grin.

JJ's phone rings, and as soon as she looks at it, her shoulder slump slightly.

"I so wish I could see this, but I need to take this."

You two leave the table in opposite directions, and the closer you get to Spencer's table, the more you can hear his conversation. Spencer gets loud when he gets excited, and you find it cute that he's so passionate about a lot of things.

"Ask me any question," Spencer gloats about his knowledge about Star Trek.

"Return to Tomorrow," one of his friends says.

"Return to Tomorrow, season two, production number fifty-one, an alien entity, Sargon, takes over Kirk's body while two others kick over Spock and Dr. Mulhall."

"Alien race or Terran?"

"Trick question. A race is never identified. Sargon is a disembodied mind."

"And the Dr. Mccoy quote?" one of the females at the tables asks.

Spencer thinks about the quote, racking his brain for the right answer. His friends determine he's taking too long to answer, so they start counting down from five. When they get to two, Spencer jumps in his seat as he knows the answer.

"I will not peddle flesh. I am a physician. Drink!"

While his friends are drinking, Spencer looks over and spots you approaching the table. Instead of returning his smile, you bend down so that your mouth is next to his ear. You don't want any of his friends to hear this, which is why you're whispering it to him.

"I just thought you should know that I'm not wearing any panties underneath this very short dress that has very easy access. You looked so good over here talking about Star Trek, that it's making me a little wet if I'm being honest. I just thought I should mention this to you so you can do what you please with this information."

You break away from his ear and peck his cheek, pulling away and walking back to the girls. Your hips sway back and forth knowing that Spencer is staring at your ass.

"What did you say to him?" Emily gasps, watching Spencer's eyes widen and his cheeks darken.

"I told him I wasn't wearing any panties," you simply put.

"Are you?" Penelope wonders.

"Nope. I give him five seconds to process what I've just said before he's coming over here and taking me to the bathroom," you grin.

You begin the countdown, and as soon as you hit one, Spencer excuses himself and leaves his friends. You feel him before you see him behind you.

"Can I help you?" you ask and turn to face him.

"Can I talk to you, please?"

"'Talk', sure," Penelope and Emily giggle.

You're about to follow Spencer off to the side when JJ comes in with a solemn look on her face.

"Playtime is over. I just got a call, and we need to head back. Where is Hotch?"

"Still on the dance floor with his wife."

Everyone's shoulders slump, and you look at Spencer with a guilty look on your face. You got him all riled up for nothing.

"I'll tell you what, Spencer. I'll put on a little show for you later tonight to make up for this. I don't want this night to end."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you, pressing your lips against his. His hands go to your waist as they find purchase there, and his fingers dig into your skin lightly. If you had it your way, you'd take him right here, right now. However, you have a case to get on despite Team B already on one. Whoever called JJ must have a pretty convincing case if she is cutting this night short.

Everyone that was at the club headed back to the BAU as soon as possible, grabbing coffee to sober up so you can do your jobs. The only person who didn't go to the club was Gideon. In fact, you don't even know where he went tonight, but you know he got a call to come in. Everyone hadn't had a chance to change out of their club clothes, so a bunch of well-dressed people are gathered around a conference table with coffees in their hands.

"You know, it never fails. Just as I'm getting my groove thing going, bam. We're back at the BAU," Derek scoffs.

"You know, statistically a case doesn't come in with any more frequency if you're at a party or a gathering and if you aren't. It's a trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more," Spencer spitballs.

"So, is it really that hard for you to get your groove 'thang' going again?" Emily giggles.

"Only when he's sleeping," Gideon answers, making an entrance.

"Where were you tonight?" Hotch wonders.

"I told you, I went to the Smithsonian."

"You missed a good time," you smile.

"I had a good time."

JJ comes walking in with case files in her hands and a serious look on her face. It's time to get down to business.

"I might still be drunk. There are three of you," you comment. The looks you receive cause you to giggle nervously, giving up the joke you were trying to tell. "I'm joking. Continue, JJ."

"This happened in Georgia. Dennis and Lacy Kyle were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

"An hour ago?" Hotch asks, shocked.

"Police were on scene unusually fast."

"Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims from inside the house."

"You're kidding."

"According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there."

"Sinners?" you ask.

"The 911 center is going to send Garcia a copy of the tape."

"How fast was the police response time?" Spencer wonders.

"Four minutes and twenty-six seconds. During which time, Raphael managed to do this."

JJ puts up pictures of the crime scene, and your mouth physically drops open from shock. That house is a blood bath, and this all happened in four and a half minutes. Whatever alcohol was in your system is now gone because this is a bad case, you can already tell.

"All of that in four and a half minutes?" you ask.

"Mr. Kyle is a dot.com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There's gonna be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed."

JJ puts up another picture of a bible verse that's on the bed for anyone to see when they enter.

"Revelations chapter six, verse eight. They're killing sinners. These guys are on a mission," you state, "and mission-based killers will not stop killing."

"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him," Hotch reads the scripture word for word. "Wheel's up in twenty."

By the time you were in the air, Penelope had sent over the 911 call for everyone to listen to and analyze. She is on videochat to give her insight for when the call comes in.

"This is a bad one, isn't it?" Emily asks.

"Unsubs with a cause are never good."

"I just got the 911 call from the Georgia State Police," Penelope says and plays the recording for you.

"911, what's your emergency?" dispatch asks.

"I'm at 1527 Chestnut Drive," a male says, who is clearly scared of whoever else is in the house with him.

"I know where you're calling from. What's the emergency?"

"He thinks they're too greedy. They have too much."

"Too much what?"

"Stuff, you know, possessions. Things they don't need. Hurry!" the male says, scared.

"You're calling because these people have too much stuff?" dispatch asks, clearly confused.

"No, I'm calling because Raphael--"

It's like he was cut off by the other person, and suddenly, the second person in the house speaks to dispatch.

"That's enough. He's calling because Raphael is going to kill the sinners that live here," the second person says.

Something isn't right here because JJ stated earlier that there were two people in the house that did the killing, but you're hearing one base voice. This is one person changing the pitch and tone of their voice so that people mistake a duo being in the house.

"I'm sorry, did you say someone is killing somebody?" dispatch asks.

Just then, the line goes dead.

"Well, unsub one definitely sounds frightened. Maybe he's doing this against his will," Emily suggests.

"I doubt it. He whispered."

"He could have called out to save them instead of calling 911."

"Not if he had a gun to his head," Derek says.

"If he had a gun to his head, why would he have dialed 911?" JJ wonders. "The second unsub said Raphael was going to kill someone. Is there a third?"

"Referring to oneself in the third person is not uncommon for an unsub. Ted Bundy gave thoroughly detailed accounts of his murders, but he never actually admitted to doing it. He would just say, 'the killer'," Spencer explains.

"I know it may sound like it, but there is only one person talking here," you say, grabbing everyone's attention. "I don't believe there are two or three killers, but one."

"There are two voices here," Derek says, a bit skeptical.

"To you and everyone here, there are. To me, they are the same person. Both voices have different octaves and the pitch is clearly different, but the base sound is exactly the same. I took a class on speech patterns and identifying different voices when it comes to unsubs. Though, I'll know more when I see the crime scene."

"Okay, regardless, I'm gonna go ahead and put the name Raphael through the Georgia criminal databases as well as our own," Penelope suggests.

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch says.

"Ever so welcome, my liege," she grins and hangs up.

"We may or may not have a killing team on a mission in rural Georgia. We know what that means. Regardless if it's a team or not, we know that this isn't going to stop until the mission's complete."

"We need to hit the ground running. JJ, we need an inside picture of the victims. Victimology can be critically important in a mission-based spree," Derek says.

"Already on it."

"Prentiss, go where the bodies are. Examine the wounds. They managed to kill two victims in four and a half minutes. We need to know how."

"You got it," she nods.

"I'm gonna set up at the Atlanta Field Office and go over case files from the state. It would be highly unusual for a first kill to be this efficient."

"Reid, Morgan, and Y/N are coming with me to the crime scene," Gideon says. "We land in less than an hour. Everyone, try and get some sleep."

You want to be able to rest, but you're not able to get one ounce of peace and quiet. The whole plane is shrouded in silence, but the voices inside your head are especially loud today. They're telling you to keep your eyes open and to trust your instincts because you're going to need them later on. You try and get some sleep like Gideon suggested, but as soon as you're able to find sleep, you're already landing.

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