#Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

[januaryembrs]

THE KID SWINGS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

‘If you take a swing, the kid swings back,

she say I’m not your punching bag,’

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart. 

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all. 

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar. 

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night. 

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her. 

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down. 

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit. 

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy. 

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil. 

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,” 

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow. 

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

-

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye. 

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,” 

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.” 

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff. 

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-” 

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat. 

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him. 

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.” 

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close. 

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges. 

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,” 

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire. 

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,” 

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” 

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?” 

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,” 

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers. 

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway. 

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself. 

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,” 

And he believed her with everything in him. 

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself. 

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right? 

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on. 

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass. 

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it. 

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge. 

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either. 

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first. 

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour. 

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt. 

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue. 

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days. 

They had found Doyle. 

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips. 

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in. 

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor. 

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck. 

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice. 

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours. 

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours. 

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open. 

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,” 

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle. 

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even. 

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded. 

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan���s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment. 

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup. 

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away. 

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself. 

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach. 

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure. 

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye. 

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.  

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed. 

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had. 

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,” 

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution. 

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt. 

“Don’t do this, kid,” 

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand. 

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him. 

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor. 

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell. 

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

-

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight. 

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run. 

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way. 

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her. 

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth. 

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,” 

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief. 

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her. 

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror. 

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying. 

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all. 

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark. 

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock. 

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly. 

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth. 

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her. 

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong. 

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself. 

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well. 

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze. 

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her. 

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself. 

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her. 

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder. 

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy. 

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time. 

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod. 

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest. 

Bugsy was laughing. 

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged. 

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in. 

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called. 

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle. 

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her. 

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step. 

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat. 

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp. 

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust. 

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell. 

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice. 

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?” 

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

 “No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,” 

 “She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them. 

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either. 

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,” 

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that. 

She wouldn’t tell her anything. 

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown. 

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive. 

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for. 

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors. 

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him. 

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash. 

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them. 

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her. 

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity. 

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back. 

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word. 

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place. 

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness. 

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either. 

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods. 

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer. 

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine. 

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on. 

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,” 

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips. 

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close. 

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever. 

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too. 

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her. 

-

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush. 

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off. 

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’. 

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way. 

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face. 

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought. 

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day. 

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful. 

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years. 

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of. 

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy. 

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,” 

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,” 

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone. 

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard. 

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

“What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer. 

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do. 

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene. 

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government. 

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another. 

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily. 

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed. 

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo. 

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment. 

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face. 

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag. 

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in. 

“Why not?” 

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas. 

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay. 

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face. 

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members. 

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze. 

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds. 

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes. 

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,” 

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her. 

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did. 

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands. 

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly. 

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else. 

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund. 

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out. 

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness. 

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that. 

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him. 

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket. 

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress. 

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight. 

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off. 

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends. 

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills. 

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did. 

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection. 

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket. 

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,” 

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief. 

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips. 

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done. 

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike. 

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively. 

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room. 

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed. 

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw. 

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,” 

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there. 

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,” 

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba. 

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him. 

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else. 

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time. 

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win. 

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub. 

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway. 

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt. 

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple. 

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture. 

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door. 

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,” 

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age. 

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him. 

They moved in tandem, just like they always had. 

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance. 

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,” 

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,” 

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team. 

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product. 

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter. 

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up. 

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile. 

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in. 

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more. 

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,” 

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then. 

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision. 

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards.  Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door. 

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him. 

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house. 

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening. 

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run. 

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better. 

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling. 

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks. 

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart. 

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold. 

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat. 

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over. 

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact. 

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure. 

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.” 

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice. 

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight. 

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning. 

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later. 

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,” 

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door. 

–

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress. 

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night. 

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t. 

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen. 

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,” 

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless. 

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her. 

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,” 

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay. 

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her. 

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,” 

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest. 

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts. 

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest. 

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head. 

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?” 

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next. 

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes. 

If Emily hadn’t been there. 

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move. 

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer. 

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred. 

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,” 

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together. 

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot. 

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice. 

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?” 

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform. 

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it. 

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women. 

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,” 

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry. 

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules. 

He hated girl rules. He never understood them. 

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows. 

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone. 

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes. 

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart. 

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?” 

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words. 

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot. 

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her. 

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up. 

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?” 

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning. 

He sighed, hard. 

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face. 

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today. 

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?” 

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second. 

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance. 

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye. 

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,” 

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene. 

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest. 

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach. 

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby. 

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building. 

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,” 

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement. 

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready. 

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units. 

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away. 

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse. 

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily. 

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well. 

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together. 

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?” 

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers. 

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows. 

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life. 

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer. 

This was going to be a long day. 

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest. 

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage. 

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre. 

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all. 

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?” 

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information. 

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite. 

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen. 

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.  

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty. 

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-” 

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her. 

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves. 

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were. 

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken. 

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together. 

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit. 

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never. 

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance. 

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her. 

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves. 

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up. 

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies. 

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest. 

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too. 

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”  

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,” 

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together. 

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore. 

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?” 

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her. 

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug. 

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another. 

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again. 

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death. 

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed. 

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street. 

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation. 

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws. 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources. 

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.” 

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless. 

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did. 

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it. 

-

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side. 

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers. 

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter. 

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?” 

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was. 

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere. 

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing. 

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now. 

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears. 

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?” 

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers. 

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them. 

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!” 

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover. 

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would. 

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him. 

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards. 

And Bugsy went down with it. 

Taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew grey gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #Emily Prentiss x Sister!reader

[the-guilty-writer]

A Prentiss Genius

Request from anon: Prentiss sibling being smarter than Reid. They work in England but is visiting their sister. And in the end it’s just Reid and reader playing poker and chess. (And freaking out the rest of the BAU)

Bonus points if it is an autistic reader

Emily Prentiss x sibling!reader, Spencer Reid x platonic!reader

Summary: When another Prentiss comes from across the pond for a visit, they give the BAU’s genius a run for his money.

A/N: this was fun to write. I hope it’s fun to read! Thanks for the request. Feedback is always appreciated.

CW: typical criminal minds things, mentions of a case, reader gets slightly overstimulated.

---

You put on your best headphones- the strongest noise canceling ones money could buy- and tried your best not to panic as you ducked through the busy airport. On the plane you were able to distract yourself by thinking about the mechanics of the aircraft and how everything was built and engineered. It had gotten you through the flight, but the airport was a different battle.

Emily had been precise about where she was meeting you- something you were grateful for. When it came to busy places like this you didn’t like guessing games. Someone brushed up against you lightly and you felt your body begin to tense. Physical contact was bound to happen in a place this crowded, but that didn’t stop the build of pressure inside you. If you didn’t relieve that pressure soon, you might explode.

Thankfully, your sister was exactly where she told you she would be- sitting on the silver bench closest to the baggage claim trolley for your flight. Just the sight of her helped you relax, and when you saw that she had already taken it upon herself to grab your luggage so you wouldn’t have to be in the crowded building any longer than necessary it helped you relax even more.

She smiled when she spotted you. After a whole year of not seeing one another she had changed her hair style, her signature lip gloss color, and had obviously bought a nicer pair of boots, but her smile never changed. She also knew better than to talk to you or touch you before you got someplace quiet- your sister knew you like nobody else and for that, you were grateful.

Once you were finally in the passenger seat of her SUV, you took off your headphones and took a deep breath. Emily swung herself up into the drivers side and looked over to you. She offered her hand to you and you gladly reached to lock your pinky finger around hers for just a second- a Prentiss pinky hug, something the two of you had invented when you were children and Emily discovered that sometimes a real hug was too much for you to handle.

“I missed you, Em,” you said.

Emily smiled. “I missed you too, (Y/N).” She knew better than to ask you how your flight was. “But now you’re stuck in the States with me for a whole week.”

“You should have seen Easter’s face when I told him I was actually taking a vacation,” you laughed.

“Yeah, well, you haven’t met my boss yet,” Emily said. She turned on the car and began to pull out of the parking space.

“Yet?” you asked.

Emily sighed. “Yeah. I’ve gotta go back to the office for a few hours to finish some stuff up. I can drop you off at the apartment if you need some quiet time. It’ll just be you and Sergio.”

You thought about it for a moment- weighing the pros and cons. Emily’s team had become a family to her. She knew all the people you worked with at the London Interpol office, so it only seemed right that you knew the people she spent most of her time with. Plus, if you were being honest, you didn’t want to be alone in a strange apartment right now.

“I’ll come with you,” you told her.

Emily smiled again. “It’ll be quick.”

But you knew Emily’s job. You worked a similar one back in England. Time at the office was never quick.

---

The BAU bullpen wasn’t all the different from the office back in London. Normally you would have felt overwhelmed in a new environment with phones ringing and people walking about, but the familiarity of it all was comforting.

You followed Emily to her desk and the two of you were quickly approached by a tall, buff, black man. Emily had already told you all about her team, so it came to no surprise when the first thing that he said was, “Well, Emily, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?” in a playful manner.

“Oh, (Y/N), this is Derek Morgan, and Morgan, this is my sibling, (Y/N),” Emily introduced you.

Derek smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you said to him.

The glass doors of the bullpen opened and a woman in a bright yellow dress hurried in. Derek turned to her. “Baby girl, where are you in such a hurry?”

The woman didn’t respond. She simply shuffled quickly up the stairs and into someone’s office. You watched as she talked to a dark-haired man who was sitting behind a large wooden desk. His expression was stoic, but when he got up from his seat he walked with purpose.

“Team in the conference room, now. Even you, Prentiss,” the man said as he walked towards what you assumed was the conference room. Derek said something about gathering Reid and JJ- two names you recognized- and walked off.

Emily sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine.” You shrugged. “I get it. I had to flee the country so they didn’t pull me into a case.”

Emily laughed as she walked toward the conference room. “That’s why I usually come to you. Hopefully it’s just an emergency consult. Make yourself at home. There’s tea in the kitchen!” She disappeared behind the conference room door.

You made yourself comfortable at your sister’s desk. The star puzzle you had given her years ago sat at one corner. You pulled it from its place and took it apart before piecing it back together. Most people said it was impossible, but puzzles had always been easy for you and they should be considering you had an IQ of 188.

Out of curiosity, you looked up at the conference room. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the images on the screen. A slim blonde lady with a remote was gesturing to the images. She pressed a button and the picture changed. It was a picture you had seen before- no. It was a picture of something you had seen before.

Your inherent curiosity carried you forward and before you knew it you were standing in the doorway of the conference room, the star puzzle still in your hand, your gaze unwavering from the screen.

“I’ve seen that before.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You were so entranced by the image you didn’t even notice all the people looking at you.

“Who are you?” The words of the stoic man broke your trance.

Emily stood up from her spot at the table and came to your side. “This is my sibling, (Y/N). (Y/N) this is Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jereau, Penelope Garcia, and Dr. Reid.” She gestured around at the people at the table.

“How have you seen this before?” Rossi asked.

“I work for Interpol,” you explained. “The symbol carved into the wrist on the victim- it’s the same symbol that a European hacking group used to sign their viruses. We shut them down about a year ago but I had a suspicion that there might be more members outside of the continent we hadn’t found yet.”

“Well that narrows it down a lot,” Derek said.

“Tell the NYPD that we’re on our way, JJ. Wheels up in twenty. You too, Prentiss,” Hotch said to your sister.

“No, no wait,” you said. Everybody sat down and looked at one another. “The body was found in New York?”

“Yes,” JJ said. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“They’ve murdered two times before this; once in Brussels and again in Israel. They left the bodies in Antwerp and Tel Aviv, the largest cities, but the group’s headquarters were in the capital cities of Brussels and Jerusalem. It’s a forensic countermeasure. Chances are the group is here in DC. My guess is that you don’t have the right software to track them, but your counter intelligence division should.”

The team looked around at one another. “Garcia, go down to counter intelligence and see if they will allow you access into their system,” Hotch instructed. Garcia scurried from the room. “(Y/N), is there anything else we should know?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “This might take a while.”

Rossi smiled. “Then pull up a chair.”

---

It didn’t take long for Garcia to locate the headquarters. Soon enough, the team was gearing up to go out on a take-down.

“Prentiss,” Hotch said. You looked up at the call of your name, but he was talking to Emily. “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

Emily looked towards you. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Today had been a lot for you- between hours on a plane, then navigating the busy airport, and meeting and working with several new people. It was rather draining.

“I can stay with them,” Reid offered. “The medical doctor still hasn’t cleared my knee for running or climbing.”

You and Emily locked pinky fingers for a second before she followed the rest of her team out of the room, leaving you alone with the young doctor.

You were beginning to become bored with the star puzzle- you had already done it 23 times since you got there- so you looked up. Reid was playing chess against himself. You watched as he studied the board carefully, then moved a pawn forward.

“You should have moved the knight instead,” you said. “You’d have check in three instead of check in five.”

“You play?” Reid asked. You nodded. Without another word, he reset the board and moved it so you could reach the pieces better. He moved first with a conservative single pawn forward. You smiled- this was going to be too easy.

---

“It’s… freaky,” Morgan muttered.

“It’s uncanny,” Rossi agreed.

“It’s something.” Emily smiled. 

“It’s time to get back to work,” Hotch said. But nobody moved, not even him.

For the last hour the team had sat around watching you and Reid play chess- you had won 7 times and he had won 5- and now poker. Currently, he had won three games and you had won two, but with the hand you had it was surely going to allow you to tie up the score. Reid set his hand down and you smiled, setting down yours as well.

“But-” Reid looked at the cards. “The probability of that hand is-”

“0.0001%,” you finished for him.

“How in the world-” JJ started.

Emily laughed. “(Y/N) has an IQ of 188. Just one point above Reid.”

“Oh, our poor good doctor,” Garcia cooed.

“Pretty boy finally met his match,” Derek joked.

“You think we can steal them away from Interpol?” Rossi asked.

This time you answered for yourself. You turned to the team and said, “Not a chance,” just before Reid began dealing out cards again.

#criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x sister!reader #emily prentiss x platonic!reader #spencer reid x platonic!reader #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds

[cas-kingdom]

can you write reader x agent rossi, with the dialogue prompt: "did you just call me grandad?"

A/N: Only now realising I forgot to use the dialogue prompt haha.

Over the few months you had been an official member of the BAU, the team had undoubtedly learnt more about the girl they'd each raised in part. Naturally, they'd all deemed themselves pretty brushed up on one Y/N Reid, having been subjected to all the homework questions and babysitting duties the moment Spencer had joined the team. But since your official enlistment, CV, interview and all (though Hotch would be lying if he'd glanced much longer than five seconds at the applications of other graduate candidates), they considered themselves professionals.

Profilers at their best, Hotch had discovered your self-confidence was not as high as you liked others to believe, which often bled into your countenance on the field. Not the worst thing, easy to manage. He planned to talk to you about it soon.

Derek had placed a bet with himself that you were more protective of Spencer on the field than he was of you. Endearing. He found it sweet that Spencer didn't even notice.

J.J. had figured out you absolutely hated ice cream, and Emily had decided you pretended you did because it was Spencer's favourite food. Penelope insisted you had a natural talent with computers. You insisted you did not.

Rossi, meanwhile, had found out that you had an affinity for using him as your pillow. Spencer was slightly ahead of him, of course, but he hadn't yet noticed you using anyone else. At first he'd figured it wasn't intentional, but somehow, when you were on the jet, you typically found yourself beside him. Profiling told him now you did it because you felt safe with him, subconsciously or not. He couldn't complain about that.

On this particular trip, you had nodded off only half an hour ago as Rossi helped Hotch with some paperwork. The girl leaning into his side didn't bother him and never had. He'd draped his jacket over your shoulders, as he always did, and got on with it.

You didn't usually wake until the plane was due for landing, but this time you jolted a little, eyes flickering open as you lifted your head from Rossi's shoulder and glanced blearily around you.

"Good morning," Rossi said affectionately, fixing the jacket around your shoulders.

You turned to look at him, taking a second to process who he was before you frowned. "It's morning?"

Rossi nodded seriously and sat back. "Oh, yeah. You've been sleeping on me for hours."

With how sleep-addled your mind was, you had no clue if he was joking or not, or even if you were awake or dreaming. Thankfully, you had enough consciousness to notice the rare smile on Hotch, who sat opposite over his own papers, and then the twinkle in Rossi's eyes when you turned back to him.

Groaning, you fell back against your seat. Rossi chuckled and reached over to pat your leg.

"Only teasing, kiddo. Go back to sleep. Still three hours to go."

You rubbed at your eyes with a yawn but listened nonetheless. "You're mean, Grandad," you mumbled before swiftly finding your previous place buried into his side and falling quicker into sleep than both Rossi and Hotch had ever seen someone achieve.

Rossi stared at Hotch. "I don't know if that was an insult or a very endearing compliment."

Hotch chuckled quietly. “I think it was a mix of both.”

Rossi adjusted the jacket again. “Hmm. No, that doesn’t reassure me.”

Later, Spencer would tell him it had likely been an insult. No matter. Rossi would be your Grandad if your feeling safe was the result.

Criminal Minds Masterpost

#criminal minds #david rossi #agent david rossi #rossi x reader #david rossi x reader #dave rossi #dave rossi x reader #reader #reader fic #sister reader #sister!reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #emily prentiss #mine

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Once upon a dream

Warning: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of cheating, mention of death, hurt comfort

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader, Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader, Tess Servopoulos x Joel Miller

The only thing Emily ever wished for was a family, to be the mother she never had to two sons and a beautiful daughter always three children specifically.

Emily always had dreams of becoming a mother one day but it was never in her stack of cards so she shortly gave up the idea. Her dreams would always be just dreams not until she met Y/n, she was everything Emily had ever dreamed of in a spouse.

Only Y/n wasn’t hers

They had met at a local cafe after Emily had accidentally bumped right into her forgetting her coffee as she left in embarrassment. Y/n went straight after her with the drinks in hand never guessing she would end up at her brother’s workplace the bau.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Hotch asked confused Emily froze before turning around to face the woman. “You know each other?” She asked so unlike herself Penelope would’ve laughed Derek too “Aaron’s my older brother, you forgot your coffee” Y/n smiled.

Fast forward six years later

Emily going from blind date to hookup after hookup to get her mind off the now married woman who she still imagined a life with. Two sons and a beautiful daughter she told herself or even just one child would suffice maybe a cat if children wasn’t an option. She loved Y/n so violently it made her sick and everyone could see from a mile away- everyone besides Y/n although she loved Emily just as fiercely.

When Emily had “died” the other woman was inconsolable it damaged Aaron knowing he had a hand in this by not telling his sister the truth. Instead watching as the woman got married quickly to the first person who showed her simple kindness and their marriage seemed was almost out of convenience. Having met the woman while away trying to escape the life she once knew in Virginia moving to Boston and back again.

Y/n Hotchner became Y/n Servopoulos

Aaron couldn’t watch as his sister saw Emily for the first time once more after apparently being dead, how her hands trembled and eyes watered. The echo of her heels as she quickly left, Emily broke down that day one thing was certain nothing would ever be the same.

Y/n soon revealed she was pregnant with a little boy that shattered Emily’s entire world but she was happy for the woman. Though she couldn’t help but laugh when the baby was born looking just like his Uncle, to Emily Y/n was glowing and Tess well she was there.

Her son was named after an old friend Alex.

Theresa and Emily never got along always classed as competition in the other’s eye but they remained civil around Y/n never wanting to upset her. When Y/n was pregnant a second time Tess was around a whole less always giving Emily a chance to be by the pregnant woman’s side.

It was tough at first trying to win over the woman but Emily had her ways she would beg for Y/n’s forgiveness

A second boy named after his Uncle Aaron, Benjamin

Emily stood beside the woman until Ben turned two, Y/n and Tess were getting a divorce so Emily had the boys whenever she could. Tess had met someone while she was working away from home, some man named Joel from Texas. Joel Miller the same man who did the renovations on their holiday home who even had a daughter of his own.

It wouldn’t be until another year when a move would be made there was a routine the children had made that included Emily. You both would cook dinner- well you would cook and after spending time together you both would get the boys ready for bed and tuck them in. This night however as Ben snuggled into his pillow his little hand reached for Emily’s “stay mama” he yawned as the woman went to stand.

Tears spread on her waterline as she gazed down at him “of course my sweet boy” she smiled and once the kids were asleep you both retreated to the living room. Cuddling on the sofa watching some shitty reality tv show you gazed up at Emily “thank you” was whispered against her jaw. “What for?” She glanced down at you “for everything, for staying” soon enough your lips had met before you were on top straddling her.

Dreams slowly stopped being dreams another two years later when you and Emily had gotten married with just the team a few friends and your two sons as guests. Emily was over the moon to have a family to call her own, to have a reason to go home just knowing she was needed filled her with pride. Emily had gotten a taste of motherhood and she wanted more as you both laid bed post bliss she brought it up she wanted another child.

Two sons and a beautiful daughter

Her dreams were now reality as you welcomed Olivia into the world, Olivia Benson the Senior having to be the one to drive you to the hospital while Emily was away. She held your hand until your wife burst through the doors with the team behind her, you would birth a daughter who was the perfect mix of you both.

A little girl with Emily’s nose and eyes while she had your hair and mouth, Emily couldn’t help but pepper your face in kisses. “You did so well baby, I’m so proud of you” it made her think if she would ever be in this position if she hadn’t bumped into you that day.

Yes you were the bosses little sister but you had lead a similar life in a different town what if ran through her mind until she felt your cold hand on her cheek. She smiled brightly down at you as she leaned down to kiss you softly ignoring everyone in the room “thank you” she whispered.

“What for?” You chuckled tiredly with a dopey grin “our family” Emily held onto your free hand “I love you Y/n Prentiss” ignoring Hotch rolling his eyes fondly.

“I love you most Emily Prentiss”

Dreams do come true to those who wait Emily found.

#imagine #wlw #angst #emily prentiss x daughter #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x oc #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x sister #aaron hotchner x sister!reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #tess the last of us #tlou tess

[veeluvss]

pizza delivery

reader x team (you are jj’s sister)

based of an edit i saw on tiktok but also lonestar ml <3

>1k

"how about we spend our last night together having some fun darling?" johnny snarled, handing me the phone. "order pizza. you're paying. i want a large pepperoni and fries too. don't forget the garlic mayo," she said nonchalantly, taking a seat behind me. i nodded, fumbling with the phone and making sure he couldn't see the screen.

dialling JJ's number, the phone shook violently in my hand. i was risking a lot.  johnny had his gun in my back. i was only ordering pizza. "hey y/n what's up?" jj answered, voice chirpy. "hi," i tried to keep my voice strong. "i'd like to order a pizza for delivery." she laughed down the phone, "a pizza? i think you've dialed the wrong number!" she laughed. i heard emily's voice in the background. then i heard the phone engage to speaker. "i don't think so," i told my sister. emily spoke then. "she sounds scared." i was petrified. "do you still have the cheesy crust?" i mumbled. "the address? sure." i told them the address, praying the team understood - even if JJ didn't.

jj's pov i felt sick to the stomach. morgan looked to me in the back of the car and began speeding off in that direction. i wanted to throw up. my sister. my baby. "y/n are you in danger?" emily asked, her hand resting on my leg. "is someone there making you feel like you can't speak freely?" morgan added. "that's right," she said.

i gulped, shaking my head. i put my head on emily's shoulder. "morgan drive faster god damn it," emily cursed him. "we understand y/n," morgan said. garcia spoke then but i was shaking with fear. "help us on the way." emily leaned over to the phone. "tell me, how many people are in the apartment?" "would a medium pepperoni be big enough for two people?" she muttered back. her voice wavering. i couldn't listen anymore but i had to.

your pov the gun prodded my back and whimpered. "what are you doing?" johnny snarled. "i asked for a large." "there's one other person with you, is that what i'm hearing?" morgan asked. "yes! that's right!" my voice went up, a glimmer of hope. they were coming. "you're doing great," emily praised me and i wanted to cry. why wasn't JJ speaking? where was she? i needed her to come too. "is the person threatening you armed?" i heard rossi ask. they told me to ask for extra pepperoni and my heart was beating harder. this was taking too long - far too long. "is this person known to you?" emily asked. "mhmm," JJ knows johnny. JJ knows how bad he was with me, no one else does. "a family member? a spouse or an ex?" "the last one," i whimpered, feeling the gun press further into my back. "how long are you going to be?" "we're 8 minutes out," derek told me and my heart plummeted. that was too much time. "ask for peppers if there is somewhere safe you can get to..." emily said. "no! definitely no peppers."

jj's pov. tears were streaming steadily down my face at this point. when garcia told us his name, i whimpered and cowered in my seat. i knew i should have done something about him when i had the chance. "two priors of aggravated assault," garcia said. "she had a permanent restraining order against him." "so this is his third strike, he's not going peacefully," morgan threatened. all i could think about was my sweet little sister, sobbing in my arms at his abuse. why didn't i do something sooner?

your pov "what the hell is taking so long?" johnny groaned, cocking the gun. i gulped. "sorry, they're just really bus-" "then call somewhere else!" he shouted, making me cower. "i'm starving!" i took a deep breath, "listen, i might have to cancel this order. my boyfriends getting kind of mad so.." "listen y/n, we'll be there in less than two minutes with swat." morgan told me and i felt some sort of relief. emily begged me to stay on, asking me to try my hardest and i agreed. i was still waiting to hear my sisters voice. that's the only hope i needed. morgan began asking me questions but suddenly the cloth forced itself around my mouth. i couldn't breath. "nice try, bitch." johnny snarled, snatching the phone from my hand. then, sweet saviour, i heard her. "johnny, where's y/n?" "she's right here," he laughed before hitting me. i groaned and cried. "please," i sobbed. "say hi to your friends," he laughed. i needed JJ. where the fuck was JJ.

jj's pov. "listen johnny," emily said, keeping her cool. i froze hearing her groans in pain. i'd heard them far too many times to know she was hurting. if she made noise, she was in unbearable pain and i needed to hold her. "the cops are already on their way. how this ends is up to you." "this only ends one way!" he shouted down the phone and i flinched. my baby sister. emily began explaining to johnny the situation and i felt so sick. suddenly, we pulled up outside. emily carried on talking, pretending not to know so he'd know. "shut up!" he screamed and i flinched everytime. "please, shut up!" he repeated. "what's going on johnny? talk to me," morgan said, getting into place. prentiss told me the plan and i nodded, quickly wiping my tears. "she ruined it!" johnny snarled. that's what dad used to say. "she always ruins it." "nothing is ruined. we can fix this okay?" rossi said and as we took our positions by the apartment. as soon as the trampoline was up, i shook like a leaf, clinging to emily- watching the window like a hawk. "how? how can we fix this?" i heard him say inside. then emily speak on the headset. "my grandmother always used to say, when a door closes, open a window..." she said. i hid my head in her shoulder. "you have to take a leap... of faith." just then, i saw her flash of blonde hair and voices raise. emily scrambled to the air bag as she scurried off it- taking my sister into her arms. "it's okay y/n." she said. "you're safe now." she then stepped aside and i took my baby sister into my arms. she clung to me the way she did when we were children. "i knew you'd understand," she cried into my shoulder. i only held her tighter, feeling relief and love and anger. my god. what a pizza delivery.

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #emily prentiss head canons #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau head canons #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #emily #jj x sister #jj sister #bau #behavioural analysis unit

[book-place]

The Silence of Loneliness

Warnings: slight spoilers for seasons 1 and 2, mentions of serial killers and victims, typical CM stuff, mentions of sick mothers, sibling fights and arguing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: It had been seven years since that terrible fight. The fight that happened because one of them was just trying to help and the other couldn’t see that

(This takes place sometime in season 3- which I’m actually about halfway through watching rn; and yes, I know the gif doesn’t match with the timeline but whatever)

A/N: I decided to take a small break from requests to write this; Also, should I take this out of miscellaneous and make a CM masterlist and write more with it? Lmk please

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“We’re bringing in who we believe to be the unsubs next victim to try and keep her safe.” Hotch said, facing the youngest of the BAU team.

Spencer looked up from the case file- which he was reading for the first time- in confusion, “How do you know who it is?”

He hadn’t been feeling too well earlier so the team had insisted that he should take a nap and they would be able to handle everything without him for a couple of hours.

“We found out that it wasn’t a coincidence that the first two victims were in the same apartment complex. The unsub is going after all women living in that building who are in their early to mid twenties- we think it reminds him of someone he lost.” Aaron explained to him.

The older man had known Reid for long enough to practically be able to see the wheels turning in his head, “There are about two hundred people in that building, what are the chances that it’s going to be that exact victim?” His head was titled to the side slightly.

“Well there’s another connection we made,” The agent let out a sigh, “All of these women are closed off and don’t really go out much or talk to too many people, they all appear to have had lonely childhoods that may have to do with either parents or siblings- possibly lack thereof on both sides. We also learned that they live by themselves in their apartments. And the girl we’re bringing in is the only other one in that whole building who fits all of that criteria.”

The brunette man finally nodded in understanding, “Morgan and JJ bringing her in?”

He had noticed that they were the only two not there in the Idaho police station, Rossi and Prentiss being in the other room talking to the lead detective on the case.

“Ma’am,” JJ’s voice filled Spencer’s ears, “I assure you that we have everything under control, you will be back home in no time.”

“Yeah, our team is on top of it.” Morgan’s voice was soothing, trying to reassure the woman.

A sigh was heard, “Okay, I trust you.”

Spencer froze.

He knew that voice.

It was your voice.

The man stood up out of his chair so fast that he stumbled a little bit, making Hotch look up in slight alarm, “Are you okay, Reid?” When he didn’t get an answer he closed the folder, worry beginning to bubble up in his stomach, “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

Again, there was no answer.

Instead, the man stumbled his way out of the room, causing Aaron to closely follow behind.

As soon as he entered the room all eyes were on him and his disheveled state, but he was only looking at you.

“Y/n.” He breathed out, but since it was so quiet the entire room heard him.

Emily and David had ceased their talking with the detective, Derek and JJ had stopped conversing with you, and the entire room was looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Spencer.” You were equally as shocked, taking a slight step back as if you were just punched in the stomach.

Noticing that the two of you knew each other, Hotchner snapped out of his small daze and turned to the rest of the room, “All right, back to work, people. This killer isn’t going to catch himself.”

Everybody but the BAU and you immediately turned back to their work, embarrassed to have been caught by the intimidating FBI agent.

After sharing a glance, Morgan and Jareau ushered you into the meeting room Spencer had recently been in.

You and Spencer were yet to look away from each other, even as you were moved across the room and into another one.

As soon as the whole team was in the room, Rossi closed the door and looked between the two of you, eyes slightly narrowed, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asked, ignoring the question, his wide eyes not yet returning to their normal size.

“Me?” You asked in disbelief, “What are you doing here? I kind of didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Referring to when the FBI knocked on your door, telling you that you were in danger and needed to go with them immediately.

If it was even possible, the man’s eyes widened even more, “You’re the possible next victim?”

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” Morgan repeated the former question, using a different approach by gently grabbing Spencer’s shoulder and shaking him a little bit.

He finally snapped his eyes away from you, as if realizing his team was there for the first time, “Oh-um-right.” He hurriedly rushed out, “Guys this is Y/n, my twin sister. Y/n, this is my team for the FBI.”

Everybody in the room looked around in disbelief, “Twin sister?” Emily and JJ asked in sync.

While at the same time you asked, “FBI?”

Derek’s jaw had dropped and both Hotchner and Rossi looked taken aback.

“You work for the FBI?” You asked in shock, before shaking your head slightly, “I’m honestly not that surprised.”

“Behavioral analysis unit.” He said, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets, the mood of the room immediately shifted to an awkward one.

JJ and Emily shared a look, silently wondering how you wouldn’t know where he worked if you were siblings.

“So,” Spencer broke the uncomfortable silence, “You live in Idaho now?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your stomach, as if trying to make yourself smaller, “I came here for college and decided not to leave after.” You replied softly.

“First time I see you in seven years and you’re a victim of a serial killer.” He winced immediately at the words that slipped out of his mouth.

“Hey guys,” JJ spoke up after having a mini stare down with Morgan on who would have to say something, “I think we have that thing to talk about.”

“Right.” Hotch said a little too quickly, gliding over to the door, “Shall we?”

The rest of the team immediately rushed out of the room, Emily pushing Derek out of the way so she could get out first.

“You two catch up.” Rossi called over his shoulder before closing the door a little too hard.

Spencer looked at the ground and shook his head softly, “Subtle.” He mumbled.

Once again, the two of you fell into an uncomfortable silence, neither one of you wanting to be the one to break it, possibly because you didn’t know what to say.

Finally though, Spencer looked at you and he couldn’t help but sigh, “You never reached out.”

You let out a humorless laugh, looking at the wall as you refused to let him notice your slightly teary eyes, “Neither did you.” You reminded him quietly, shuffling your feet.

“I didn’t know what to say.” He admitted, “After everything that happened-“

“After everything that happened I didn’t think you would ever want to talk to me again.” You spat out venomously, cutting him off as anger began to replace your surprised state.

He looked up in surprise, “Why would you-“

Another humorless laugh escaped your lips, this one more deadly than the last, “We didn’t exactly leave things on a happy note, Spencer.”

He didn’t need to have been a profiler to notice the way you were calling him ‘Spencer’ and not ‘Spence’. You only used to call him by his full name when you were arguing as kids, which was too often if you asked him.

“You didn’t even talk to me about it.” He said quietly, he knew that he didn’t need to tell you what he was talking about. It was something that neither of you could ever forget.

It was about your mother.

For as long as you could remember you knew that something wasn’t right. As you got older you had realized she was sick.

And for the longest time Spencer refused to admit it to himself or let you admit it to him, so as soon as the two of you turned eighteen, you had taken matters into your own hands and checked her into a place that specialized in helping people like her.

You had tried numerous times to talk to your brother about this, but he shut you down every time and never even let you finish talking about it.

So when the worker came to take her, all Spencer could feel was betrayal.

And he had expressed that.

Even though the two of you used to argue all the time about petty things- like all siblings would- this was your worst fight yet. But it was also one sided.

He had yelled and yelled at you for the first time in his life. And you did nothing but take the screams, letting a few tears run out of your eyes. But he didn’t care.

You hadn’t wanted to fight with your brother, you just wanted to help your mother.

It had ended with you leaving the house in tears, and not talking to your own twin brother for seven years because he said one thing that he would regret for the rest of his life.

He told you to get out and never come back, claiming that you didn’t love your own mother.

But at the time he had been so blinded by his rage, that he hadn’t even realized what he had said until much later.

It had been the first time in all of his eighteen years of living that he had screamed his heart out at someone, let alone his little- by five minutes- sister.

Yet another cold laugh escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes, arms still crossed, but more in a defensive way this time, “I tried to. Time and time again, Spencer. But you never even let me get the chance to finish my thoughts before you were changing the subject.”

“Lonely childhood?” He asked out of the blue, as if completely ignoring your previous comment.

You looked at him weirdly, “What?”

“One of the traits the unsub looks for in his… victims” God, he hated using that word to describe you, “is having a lonely childhood. It’s something he can probably relate to.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “So what? I had a lonely childhood.”

“But… you had me.”

You made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and his eyes held such a brokenness and sadness to them that you couldn’t help but feel your heart clench.

As if his pain was your own.

“You weren’t exactly there, Spencer.” Your voice had once again dropped to a whisper.

His eyebrows furrowed subconsciously in confusion, “We lived in the same home.” He pointed out.

You shook your head again, “Physically? Yes, we did. Mentally, though?” You let out a sigh, “You were never really there.”

“We shared the same room.” His voice had become softer as well.

“That’s not what I meant.” You paused, “You were there physically, but your mind was always somewhere else, Spencer.” Another pause, “When I was still playing tag with the neighborhood kids, you were already graduating high school. I was still watching cartoons by the time you were accepted into a college. And it’s not like mom was much company back then.”

He didn’t say anything, just listened.

So you continued, “I never minded you being the smarter one, I was proud of you and all that you accomplished. For a while I was satisfied with being a solid B’s and C’s student… but I was still a kid. And every kid wants to be noticed once and a while, especially by her own mother and twin brother.”

You finished and allowed the silence to once again swallow you whole.

It stayed that way for about two minutes before Spencer finally was able to gather his thoughts enough to speak up, “I had no idea you were feeling that way.”

You shrugged, looking at the wall as you could once again feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “It wasn’t something that I went around and shared with the world.”

The next thing out of his mouth startled you so much that you almost had to catch yourself from tripping and falling against the closest wall.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking you directly in the eyes to let you know that he was serious, “I should have noticed you more when we were kids… and I should never have blamed you for what you did for mom. We would have had to do it sooner or later.

You felt a single tear slip out of your right eye and slowly roll down your cheek before falling off of your chin.

And that was all it took for you to go barreling at your brother.

He caught you with surprising ease, holding you close to his chest as he rested his chin on top of your head and rocked you both back and forth.

“I’m sorry too, Spence.” You whispered, hugging him tighter.

The two of you didn’t have to say anything else to know that you were both forgiven and that from that moment on things would be different.

You would both take the time to catch up and become close once again and just talk.

After this case though, of course.

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #bau team #bau x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x sister reader #david rossi #aaron hotchner #jennifer jereau #derek morgan #emily prentiss #sister reader #cm #cm x reader #behavioral analysis unit #penelope garcia

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Emily Prentiss x Sister Reader

I need more Emily requests

Request: All I can think of is Emily having a chaos gremlin of a little sister. Everyone already knows her. Emily brings her in, and said sister gets everyone else to help her prank Emily. If Tara could also be mentioned in some fashion, that'd be great!

Reader is 12

Third person pov...

Y/N Prentiss is the little sister of SSA Agent Emily Prentiss and she is a prankster and a certified chaotic Gremlin, the little 12 year old loves pranking her sister with Emily's team.

She even gets the Grumpy Unit chief Aaron Hotchner to join in on a couple of her Pranks.

It was one of those boring days at the FBI academy for the team they weren't on  any cases and had lots of paperwork to do, Spencer was working digitally at his desk and was flying through the paperwork as he enjoyed it.

Behind him Derek and Emily were sat giggling loudly like children as they kept throwing rolled up pieces of paper at the poor man.

The laughter increased as they kept hitting their mark, Spencers head, the genius was non the wiser as a pile of paper was forming around him at their many failed attempts.

From the side JJ and Penelope sit and watch as Spencer doesn't realise, then a recognisable person walks through the elevator and into the bullpen.

"Hey guys!" Exclaims the girl they all love Y/N Prentiss, Penelope and JJ laugh when the girl is tackled by her older sister, Emily throws away her paper and pulls Y/N in for an one arm hug.

"Hey lil sis" she said as her sister laughs "hey Em" laughs Y/N as she struggles to get out of Emily's hold, she is the  rescued by Morgan who fireman carries to 12 year old away from her sister.

Emily gasps dramatically "how dare you Derek Morgan  stealing my own sister from me!" She exclaimed as Derek puts Y/N down, the giggling 12 year old manages to evade her sister and runs up the ramp to Rossi and Hotches offices.

Woth Emily hot on her tail she knocks quickly and loudly on Hotches door and ducks when he opens it, her sister isn't so lucky.

Emily had jumped into a Crouch just before the sneaking gremlin knocked on her bosses door, Hotch doesn't even question Emily as she freezes infront of his door, he then sees the source of the laughter outside his door.

"Hello again Y/N, having fun annoying your Sister?" He asks hsut about hiding a smile of his own, the 12 year old smiles innocently at the man "of course Hotch" she said before running to the safety of Penelope and JJ.

They all watch as an embarrassed Agent Prentiss stalk back to her desk after getting a look from her boss, Y/N smirks as she perches on Spencers desk.

The man had stopped writing once he heard the common behind him. "That was fun right Spence" she said to the genius who nods. "Everything is fun with you Y/N" he says before going back go paperwork rolling his eyes when he finally notices the growing pile of rolled up balls of paper around him.

"So why are you here Y/N?" Asks Penelope, the girl turns around and in a whisper says "I'm here to pull as many pranks on Emmy as possible this week"  as she pulls away a smirk makes its way on both woman's faces. "Can we help."  Asks JJ earning a nod from the girl.

'This will be fun' thought the 12 year old to herself.

It was 9am time to start the longest prank war ever, Y/N first goes to Penelope to get her help. "Hey pen, can you print copies saying 'this ___ is now voice activated please say ___' says the evil 12 year old making the tech analysis laugh gleefully.

"Of course my love I will" she says before getting to work on Y/N first prank. 'Because Emmy is getting on in her old age, I thought prankjng her woth pretending everything is voice activated will be hilarious' Y/N giggle evilly as Penelope finishes of printing them out for her.

Soon her prank is set in motion, Y/N,watches as Emily falls for her first prank, the woman was making coffee when she sees one of Y/N voice activated paper.

"This coffee maker is now voice activated just say what drink you want" she mutters, she the puts her cup underneath the depenser, Y/N covers her mouth with laugher as her sister actually says what the paper says to say.

The Agent gets weird looks at she talks go the coffee maker, while her Grelim sister dies of laugher in the corner, Y/N manages to get away and plans her next prank.

The next prank Y/N involves Rossi as he is the best cook, saod man is now staring at Y/N as if she had a second head. "You want me to do what for your prank?" He asks making Y/N sigh.

"All I want is brussel sprouts to be covered in chocolate ans then put in a box so Emmy will think they are chocolate and eat them simple, please Rossi!" Begs the teen.

Rossi easily gives in  what even he's a softy for the young girl. "Fine" he sighs as the girl cheers.

The next day Emily finds a box of chocolates on her desk, surprised she opens it ans picks one out, Y/N is spinning around in Spencers chair and has the best seat. Just as a Emily bites into the 'chocolate' she instantly spits it back out coughing loudly.

"What the fuck!" She exclaims not noticing her sister ans the others watching with knowing eyes.

Time for the next prank.

Y/N corners JJ is her office, "I need your help. You know when Emily leaves for lunch don't you?" She asks the Blonde, JJ nods her head looking suspiciously at the teen.

"What time does Emmy take her lunch break?" She asks. "Is this for another prank?" "Yes" "then fine, she takes it at 12pm everyday and is gone for 15 minutes, now tell me" Says the blonde.

Y/N excitedly tells the blonde what she's going to do. "Okay so it involves bread and lots of it"

Later that same day Emily leaves at lunch Y/N gets to work, with the help of JJ  the two open and dump out two loafs of bread into Emily desk and in all the draws nothing is left unbreaded.

Y/N is laughing uncontrollably at the face Emily will make, "quick she will be back soon" Yells JJ and the two make themselves look innocent before Emily walks back in and goes to ber desk.

"What the fuck" she yells as piles of bread is in every one of her draws and on top of her desk. In JJs office the two are laughter uncontrollably as they hear Emily's yell from the bullpen.

Y/N next accomplice is Spencer. The man is busy at his desk before Y/N appears scaring the daylight put of him. "Hello Y/N" he says not liking thr evil grin on the girls face. "Heyy spence, just wondering how many sticky notes would you need to cover a car?" She asks making the genius roll his eyes.

"Another prank for Prentiss?" He asks earning a nod from the girl. "Fine, about 5,000 sticky notes, do you need help?" He asks making the girl jump up from his desk and start dragging him away from the building.

For the next couple hours to two work together to cover Emily car in sticky notes, some how the arw done before the day is over so they wait until Emily comes down to the parking lot.

Hours later Emily arrives to her car, the black haired woman just laughs when she sees her car. "Seriously!" She exclaims as Y/N and Spencer high five each other prank complete.

Next one Y/N hunts down Derek. She easily finds him and corners him, "Hey can you distract Emmy for me it's for a prank" she says, Derek is to happy not to help her.

As Derek distracts Emily, Y/N goes into action and grabs a piece of paper and writes on it before grabbing lots of tape and begins taping it to the bottom on Emily's mouse.

When Derek finishes distracting Emily he goes back go his desk woth Y/N at his side, the two watch as Emily tries to use her mouse but finds that she can't, the black haired woman get annoyed with it and turns it around only to find a piece of paper taped to the sensor with 'Ha ha ha ha ha' written all over it.

Pissed off she throws the mouse away. Derek discreetly high fives the trouble maker next to him, Y/N watches Hotches office "now for the Boss" she mutters.

For the last prank Y/N knocks on Hotches office and walks in when he calls. "Still pranking your Sister Y/N, what do you need me to do?" He asks getting straight to it.

Y/N smirks. "All you need to do I'd be yourself but not" she says mysteriously making Hotch raise his eyebrow at the girl he was expecting something more evil.

Throughout the day Hotch would just appear and ask Emily random questions about her cases making the woman paranoid at every movement. But thr end of the day the whole team was having way to much fun messing with Emily.

When Y/Ns alast day arrived she gathered the team in the bullpen. "Well its been fun but I have to go Mother is expecting me back" she says rolling her eyes but then looks at Emily. "I've had the best fun this week guys, thanks for helping out" she says making Emily glare at her.

"It was you who's been messing with me all week, you even got my team involved!" Exclaims Emily making a grab for Y/N who hides behind the closes perosm who happens to be a woman Tara Lewis who was new to the team.

While Emily was distracted Y/N made her get away. Tara looks at thw team "Your repretation proceeds you" Says the Dr as the team laugh and fill her in on what she missed.

The end!

Hoped you like this oneshot, this was fun to write, as usual sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakes

Request are open!

Word count: 1783

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #x sister reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x sister reader #prank #chaotic little gremlin

[sciencewithottsnpotts]

The Family Business

Criminal Minds x Winchester!Sister

BAU Team x Supernatural Reader

Saving People Part Three and Final Ending to the Saving People Trilogy :)

———————

What an accomplishment it was, to be 19 and living a good life. You were interning at a law firm when your Boss got called in on a priority case, and you were the lucky duck who got to go with him to carry around all his paperwork. But you didn't mind- cause you knew pencil pushing would eventually lead to taking leads on cases. Normally, your Boss worked on the side of the DA's office, prosecuting criminals to the full extent of the law. But this case was an exception. Y'all had been hired to be counsel to a suspect in a major murder investigation. And low and behold, the group of individuals running the case just so happened to be the FBI's BAU.

You watched Hotch's reaction as your Boss pushed past him into the interrogation room to interrupt Derek Morgan in his stare down with your new client. All of the agents that currently occupied the room looked affronted but unsurprised at your Boss's appearance. Though none noticed you standing in the doorway until a certain computer tech had to get into the room.

"Excuse me. So sorry," she sang as she glided into the room. It was then that a certain individual with eidetic memory turned around and saw your face.

"Y/n Winchester?"

That name had everyone whipping around. Your smile was genuine as you gazed back on them.

"Hello guys. Long time no see."

"Winchester? Why does that sound so familiar?" Came Garcia's cheery voice.

"Because we got to work together 4 years ago. On what the news dubbed the "Sacrificial Spree Murders" that consumed upwards of 80 deaths once you got those perpetrators to confess."

"Holy shit. That's right!" Emily Prentiss's face was kind even in its shock. Though everyone's perceptions changed when Hotch spoke.

"I also recall you conveniently disappearing when said confessions happened before you went MIA for 6 months."

You couldn't help but blush at that. "Heh- yeah. Fight or flight- ya know? You no longer needed me with those confessions, and I was getting antsy from having been in the same place for too long. So- I bolted. Besides. I didn't need you guys tracking me to figure out where I parked my car or putting a gps device in the wheel well. I know you're with the government- and that's exactly why I didn't trust you."

"Fair enough I guess," commented JJ. "Especially since those guys got effectively sentenced without your testimony. My question would be- why are you here now?"

All attention was on Jennifer Jareu as she asked that question. But before you could answer, distinct yelling came from the interrogation room where your Boss was making his way to the door with your new client.

"Interrogating my client without offer to counsel is against this man's given rights. It is because of this we will be taking our leave unless you can provide a valid warrant for his arrest?"

Before Hotch could get a word in edge-wise your Boss paced forward.

"Exactly what I thought. Here is my card," with a snap of his fingers you had handed him a business card to give to Hotch, "And you can contact me or my intern with any future desires to reach out to my client. Good day, Agent Hotchner." And just like that he was marching out with the potential Unsub in tow.

"Aaaaaaaand that's my cue. Gotta follow the boss cause I have the keys to the Mercedes. It was nice seeing you guys- though I don't know if I'd call this "better circumstances". I guess I'll be seeing you around. Bye!"

And just as suddenly as you'd appeared to them, you were gone.

"Who the hell was that?" Came Morgan's voice as he stared around at his team as they watched the practical (familiar) teenager leave the room.

"That," explained Rossi, "Was one Ms. Y/N Winchester."

"Wait- Winchester as in that psycho-genius from that Sacrificial Murder Spree?"

"The very one- so it would seem." Prentiss said, a quizzical look on her face.

"What the hell is she doing working in a law firm? More importantly how? She's like 18!"

"If memory serves she would actually be 19 going on 20 as she had turned 16 by the time the case was wrapping up." Spencer buttoned his suit jacket, as he collected his bag and made his way from the observation room, now made obsolete with no one to observe.

The rest of the team merely looked at each other, before following him out to re-strategize in the conference room.

—————————

"Winchester," you're boss said, as you drove him and your client to the hotel. You looked up into the rear view, as he was sat in the back conspiring with the potential Unsub.

"Yes, sir," you acknowledged.

"Do me a favor when we get back to the hotel and call up your brother. We're going to need all the assistance we can on this one, if we're going against the FBI instead of working with them."

A trickling sense of unease slithered down your spine and coiled in your stomach. Call my brother?

"My – uh – brother sir?"

"Yes, Samuel."

Sammy, you want to say. "And why would we need him, sir?"

The look on your boss's face is incredulous. "Why would- you think you got hired because of your grades kid? Shit no, this industry is all about connections. Winchester is a powerful name in these courts. You're here so I have a solid line directly to the big man. So call him. We'll need all the wisdom we can get."

"Yes, sir. Will do." Is all you can say. Samuel Winchester the Lawyer? What kind of weird alternate reality was this? Did you fuck with the wrong dragon that stole a magical charm and get thrust into another world that mimics this one?

No, you think, you remember too much, and far too little at the same time. Because that's the truth. You remember your mother and her funeral. Your father and your brothers. Dean's mother hen attitude, Sam's healthy fitness lifestyle. Hunting. You remember all of it. You even remember Dean taking the Mark. The demon possessing him. Hell- literally. You even remember the case with the BAU. Every last detail of it. Getting captured, getting the girls out, going to the police, and...

You don't remember actually catching the bad guys.

But the BAU did! They said you bolted. And that sounds like something you'd do, but you can't actually remember it.

Why can't you remember it?!

"Winchester- watch out!"

"What?"

The sound of a truck horn has you zoning back in, though too late. You swerve, in an attempt to avoid the head on collision, and instead loose control of the vehicle, speeding uncontrollably off the edge into a deep forested drop below. There's screaming, and yelling, and a whole lot of fear.

This is not how I thought I'd go out! You think, closing your eyes and bracing for impact.

You feel yourself fall, and hit the ground. But it's far more mild than you expected. There's no screaming any more, no smoke. In fact, you're lying on linoleum tiles.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry, are you ok miss?" You know that voice.

You pick your head and yourself from the ground, to see Spencer Reid of the BAU, reaching around a door, shock and remorse clear in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I'm ok, I think."

There it was again, the coiling unease, it was growing.

"Ah, Ms. Winchester, what brings you back to the precinct?"

You look around, surprised to see that, yes, you are back in the precinct. The one you had just left yesterday. When you got in a car crash.... Only you didn't.

Why were you back?

"We've brought back our client," your boss says behind you, exasperated.

Suspicion crosses Spencer's features, "Pray tell, for what reason. For you both left quite confident and angered yesterday."

"He wishes to make a deal." came another voice further down the hall your boss was standing in.

Your blood runs cold. You know that voice. Leaning around your boss, you see, of all people, Sam Winchester. And he's in a suit. And his hair- oh Chuck his hair!! It's cut short, and slicked back. He- he- he looks- jeez, he looks like a prick.

It doesn't take long for everyone to gather in the conference room, a camera set up in the corner, to record the whole room and this odd interaction. You sat against the same wall the cameras on, claiming to stay in the back ground to observe. Which, technically isn't wrong.

You were mostly trying to figure out, what in all of HELLS HALF ACRE WAS GOING ON!!

You were silently freaking out, and don't know how you managed to keep your face so neutral. Cause there was Sammy. Your brother Sam, dressed up in an expensive pin-stripe suit, hair all wrong, face too cold, working with your boss and client (do you even know their names?? Who are these people?) sitting across from the FB-fucking-I!

How do you not remember anything before this. Why don't you remember the arrests from the Murder Spree case like the team does?? Why didn't you die last night when the car went off the highway? Was that even last night?

For the love of all that is holy- what the HELL WAS GOING ON!

Your distress must have been obvious to everyone in the room, for it was Agent Prentiss who addressed you. "Are you alright Y/N?"

You look up in shock, ripped from your internal break down, and realize that everyone in the room is looking at you. You had to get out of there.

"Um, actually... no, I'm not." Your hand comes up to your head, pushing on one of your temples, while the other lays against the wall for balance. "I have a killer head ache that came out of nowhere. I think I may have a concussion from my collision in the hallway." You wince, hoping the lie is believable.

"What collision?" Asked Hotchner.

"That would be my fault," came Reid, "I opened the bathroom door to quickly, and preceded to hit Ms. Winchester with it." Remorse was evident in his voice. But you didn't care. This was all wrong.

You wanted to leave. You needed to leave.

Your panic must've shown through some, for it's your brother who speaks next. "Why don't you go to the break room and get some water, then find an observation room to lie down in the dark. We'll come get you when we're done here."

"That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Sammy."

You don't see the confusion that crosses your brothers face at the nickname. He was Samuel to most, Sam to few and well, hadn't been Sammy since you were 12. At least here.

But you didn't know that. And you didn't care to. You speed walk to the break room, lowering your hand from your head, only when your in the seclusion of the room. The windows in the room are fortunately covered by their blinds for now. You grab a drink of water as you were told. But your growing panic doesn't let you sit.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

Run. 

Wrong. 

Run. 

Wrong. 

Run. Run. Run. Run. 

WRONG!

Over and over it screams in your head. You begin pacing the floor. Mug squeezed so tightly in your hands, your knuckles are white and your fingers are red.

This is wrong! You slam your mug and hands onto the counter, frustrated. The surface clinks underneath the impact. And that's when you see the drawer in the cabinetry.

You rip it open with a bang! At first glance it's all tongs and serving spoons. But buried under the layers of grimy and unorganized plastic wear you see it- a knife.

The tarnished reflection it shows in the horrid florescent lighting tells you the only truth you need- it's silver.

You hop to the fridge next, squished between the counter and the sink you had drank from earlier. The chances were low.

But there, inside that fridge was a fuck ton of brown butcher-paper-wrapped slabs of meat that said "Loui's Lambs. Best Chops in the State!" As well as a sticky note saying thank you to the cops or some shit for a stupid fundraiser.

You skip that useless information and instead look for the messiest wrapping on all the products. The one that was the juiciest, leaking the most, promising to be the bloodiest. Instead, you found a plastic Tupperware container, like the one you get potato salad in at the deli, full of "spare bits". Hey- don't hate- that's what it was labeled as, that was not your doing.

But it was full, and it was bloody. And it was as you starred at the two contents filling either hand, knife and bits, you realize why this doesn't feel right.

Your vision flashes. Dark warehouse halls, the dripping echo of an old abandoned and leaking building. Two men, one with dark and one with light hair. Tattoos, hidden under layers of grimy clothes. Glowing eyes.

"Djinn."

You whisper it, but the sinking in your stomach makes it feel like your yelled it. Djinn. It explained everything. Sam, the lack of memories, the glitch when the car almost crashed. The migraine! You were losing blood. You were loosing it fast. Cause these men didn't take long to act. You remember. Leaving the precinct, the day you brought back the girls, sneaking off to your car and searching out the two men.

Only back then you hadn't known about ask the tattoos that lingered beneath the dirty sleeves of your captors. You thought they were just human psychos. You remember it now. You remember it all. You also remember the only way to escape this dream world.

Your death.

You glance at the knife again. Putting the blood back into the fridge. You wouldn't need it. Because there was no djinn here. Not in this world. No, this world was controlled by djinn.

You slip the knife very carefully up your blouse sleeve and make your way from the break room to the bathroom. You double the act of the headache. One hand gripping your forehead, the other pressed against your stomach to keep the knife hidden in your blazer.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, headache and nausea becoming quite real as you physically lost more blood to the djinn. 

Chuck you hoped this worked. You were a Winchester for fuck's sake. Dying at the hands of a djinn, was not in your "Top 10 Ways to Die as a Winchester" list. 

You rushed into the bathroom and then the biggest stall, falling down as a harsh pang shot across your head. 

Why did your mouth feel so dry suddenly?

You pulled the knife out from your sleeve with shaking hands. Carefully, you lined the blade up with your heart. Just as you were ready to act, the creaking of the door broke through your pounding head.

"Y/N? Are you in here? Are you alright?" called out one Emily Prentiss. A vision of her flashes before you at the sound of her voice. Of FBI Agents swarming an abandoned warehouse. Flashlights swinging across the darkness. Voices calling "CLEAR" as they pass through rooms. An echo of Emily's voice as she lifts your head, the rest of the team following behind her. And a shadow and a flash of blue.

"No!" you shout, bringing the blade down, stabbing yourself in this dream world. 

"Y/N!" Emily's voice is urgent now. You blearily look down and see blood quickly pooling on the floor, hands going numb. The door bursts open, Emily standing above you with horror on her face. A shadow forms behind her, magic blue eyes and arms of tattoos visible in your fading vision. 

The last thing you can process in this false world is the word "duck" before the world goes white.

—————————

The beeping of the heart monitor is almost lulling to the team as they sit in your hospital room. All six of them crammed into the small emergency room, waiting for you to wake up. If Strauss or anyone higher up were to ask why all of them were waiting there, Hotch was prepared with the "protocol" argument. They needed to interview you, be assured of your safety, be prepared to get CPS involved if needed, and all that other red-tape type shit.

The real reason, though, was you had saved them. Barely conscious from the head trauma visible on your forehead you had stabbed the unsub, while laying in Prentiss's arms, as he attempted to kill her himself. Then you somehow managed to pull yourself up, half alive and still bleeding to death, to follow the sounds of gun shots and end the life of the other Unsub who wasn't falling, despite having over five bullets in his chest. They don’t even know where you got the knife from.

The team had been in shock as they watched their respective suspects die. Blue flashing from their eyes, the light of their tattoos dying with them as they collapsed to the ground. Morgan and JJ, both of whom had fallen victim to the magic of the djinn, awoke with a gasp as the last one fell. You falling alongside the second one had the team acting fast. Ambulance already on standby they got you rushed to the hospital. You had to have three blood transfusions. One in the ambulance on the way, and two more once you got to the hospital and your neck wound was stitched up. Doctors state you had lost about 30% of your blood before you had finally passed out. It was that fact that left the team truly speechless. By all rights you should have been unconscious and on the brink of death by the time the found you. 

And yet, in their attempt to save you from the unsubs, you saved them. They had all seen the man with blue eyes and blue tattoos survive the gun shots, as he got his hands on their team mates, knocking them unconscious with a glowing hand. It was impossible, what they saw. Morgan refused to speak about what he dreamed about for the short period of time he was under. JJ looked haunted, but was writing it all down in the notepad she had found in the back of the SUV. Prentiss had tossed her jacket to the side, as it was covered in the blood from the first unsub, who had almost succeeded in doing the same to her, or worse. Reid sat in the corner, replaying the days events in his mind on a loop, trying to justify things and fill them in with fact when there was mostly only the impossible. Hotch and Rossi stood in the corners, worrying over their team and their wellbeing, processing everything as well. 

This job had become more of a headache than it was probably worth, and was going to be a boat-load of paperwork. But one thing they could focus on were simple facts and truth.

The unsubs were no longer a worry, but other impossible worries lingered in everyone's minds.  

Yet, as sherlock once said, "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." And so the truth stood. The unsubs who had died were no ordinary men. They weren't natural. Nor was it some kind of extreme technology that allowed them to be what they were. No matter how much Reid and the team didn't want to accept it there was only one option that truly remained. The supernatural just might be real. 

And you had a lot of questions to answer when you finally woke back up. 

__________________

You hated hospitals. You hated cops (Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum excluded). You hated people who refused to understand your world. You hated monsters, specifically the ones who enjoyed hurting people. You hated your dad for bringing your family into this world. You had a lot of unresolved anger and trauma to work through. Not to mention the echo of your djinn induced dream haunting your sleepless nights.

But you were grateful to now have the BAU partially on your side. You didn't have to worry so much about having them tracking you. And while they weren't quite ready to absolve your brothers of their "Most Wanted" status, most of them did not see you as a potential threat. Instead you had made a deal. You'd keep a reliable form of contact with them, and they'd be sure to reach out for a consultation should a case start looking a little... unnatural. 

And as you drove away in one of the bunker's many vintage cars you had stowed away outside of town, you couldn't help but smile at how things had somehow, for once in your short Winchester life, ended relatively well.

Your peace of mind is interrupted by a chirp on one of your many cellular devices. A note from Sam.

Black eyes have been turned back to green. Next task: find a solid stain remover for this Mark. You able to come home to lend a hand with the laundry and pest control? 

The relief that flooded through you at knowing Dean was finally demon-less was strong. Foot pushing heavy on the pedal you blast some music, and text back a simple response.

Wayward's coming home. Tell mother hen I say "Hey". See y'all soon.

Being a Winchester wasn't easy and it was never boring. But hey, you know how it goes.

Saving People. Hunting Things.

The Family Business. 

_________________________________________________

Aaaaaaaaand we're finally done!!! Ah that's crazy! This has taken so long (literally over a year I am soooooo sorry) and has been through so many rewrites. But I'm so happy to have finally created an ending I'm happy with, and I hope you are too. Do timelines match up between the two shows? absolutely not, but that's not important lol.  Thank you all who have followed along on this little trilogy! You're engagement is so encouraging, and your patience is appreciated. 

One note I would like to add:  Suicide is no joke, and is never an ACTUAL answer to our problems and struggles. I plead to everyone here, that if you are having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, depressions, or even possible hallucinations to please seek help and treatment. There is nothing wrong with you, and you're allowed to ask for help. Remember, someone does actually care, even if you feel alone, and there is always a future, even if it seems bleak now. 

Thank you all again!

Tags: (I hope I did this right)

@sylum @ampal98 @singhfae @supernerdycookietrashblr

@super-sexy-agent-hotchner (I don’t think this one works)

#criminal minds x winchester!sister #bau x reader #supernatural sister #saving people hunting things #the family business #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds #supernatural #winchester!sister #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #criminal minds x reader #solving crimes #djinn are assholes

[marie-swriting]

Need More Fanfics ?

Stranger Things

Lesbian Coming Out (Steve Harrington x sister!reader) by @alyswritings

Doodles And Dates (Eddie Munson x reader) by @loveronlineee

You Made Me Hate This City (Eddie Munson x reader) by @marvelsswansong

What If (Eddie Munson x reader) by @silent-stories

Girls Like Girls (Chrissy Cunningham x reader) by @hellfirebabes

Makeover (Chrissy Cunningham x reader) by deactivated tumblr account

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (Chrissy Cunningham x reader) by @dr-aculaaa

I Think I Hate Everyone In The World But You... (Chrissy Cunningham x reader) by @chrissycunninhamsgf

Things We Won't Do (Robin Buckley x reader) by @ktelova

You're The Only Girl I Got On My List (Robin Buckley x reader) by @magicaloneandmystery

My Girl, My Girl, My Girl (Robin Buckley x reader) by @southelroydrive

Marvel

Creepy man (TASM!Peter Parker x reader) by @mareagirls ⚠️TW : stalking, following

Kiss Me Like You Wanna Be Loved (Kate Bishop x reader) by @lightupthemoon

The Archer (Kate Bishop x reader) by @waitimcomingtoo

Lazy Days With You (Carol Danvers x reader) by @ghostofskywalker

Three Little Adventurers (Marc Spector x sister!reader) by @writers-blogck

Late Night Talking (Steve Rogers x reader) [serie masterlist] by @rogersideup ⚠️Minors do not interact as the author wishes

Lily (Steve Rogers x reader) by @the-bau-quinjet

Solace (Yelena Belova x reader) by @natashas-soul ⚠️ TW : body image issues/Minors and men do not interact as the author wishes

Scary (Sam Wilson x reader) by @fangirlovestuff

Too Much Loss | Not Again (TASM!Peter Parker x sister!reader) by @justabigassnerd

The Story of Nana and Pops (Bucky Barnes x Black!reader) by @asongofmarvelanddc ⚠️TW : racism, segregation, use of the n-word, implicit mention of attempted rape and lynching.

Graveyard | Sacrifice (Bucky Barnes x reader) by @wkemeup

Love is Lost On you (Bucky Barnes x reader) by @kaznejis

Your Still My Kid (Clint Barton x daughter!reader) by @justabigassnerd

Supernatural

If I Could Be Just A Dad (Dean Winchester x daughter!reader) by @winchesters-favorite-girl

Strong Enough (Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester x sister!reader) by @marvelfanfn2187a113

It's Only Temporary (Crowley x platonic!reader) by @book-place

Up In Flames (Sam Winchester x daughter!reader) by @winchesters-favorite-girl

Bridgerton

Read It All About It (Benedict Bridgerton x reader) by @redheadspark

Portrait (Benedict Bridgerton x reader) by @redheadspark

Brother Knows Best (Anthony Bridgerton x sister!reader) by @anthonysharmaa

Duel (Anthony Bridgerton x daughter!reader) by @alyswritings

Criminal Minds

Watching The Sunset (Emily Prentiss x reader) by @babymango-writes

With You, I Dare (Emily Prentiss x reader) by @temilyrights

Home (Emily Prentiss x reader) by @imagining-in-the-margins

Come Back... Be Here (Emily Prentiss x reader) by @imaginesfordifferentfandoms

Can I Stay With You ? (Spencer Reid x daughter!reader) by @letarasstuff

Lockdown (Spencer Reid x daughter!reader) by @alyswritings ⚠️ TW : School shooting

I'm Many Things (Spencer Reid x sister!reader) by @dreadpoetssociety ⚠️ TW : mention of sexual harassment

Deep (Spencer Reid x reader) by @thefictionalnerdy [French version]

Unsteady (Derek Morgan x reader) by @ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused

Hostage (Luke Alvez x reader) by @thelukesalvez ⚠️ TW : hostage situation

Holding Me Close (Penelope Garcia x reader) by @supercriminalbean

Peanut (Elle Greenaway x reader) by @neuroprincess

Outer Banks

School Fight (JJ Maybank x daughter!reader) by @alyswritings

Top Gun

Pieces (Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x reader) by @topguncortez

Out Of The Closet (Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Mitchell!reader) by @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all

Sign Language (Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x deaf!reader) by @callsign-phoenix

Boyfriend (Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x reader) by @callsign-phoenix

Daylight (Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Maverick!reader) by @rose-pearls

The Longer That You Stay, The Ice Is Melting (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader) by deactivated tumblr account

#masterpieces by other creators #steve harrington x sister!reader #stranger things one shot #marie swriting #marvel one shot #tasm peter parker x reader #supernatural one shot #dean winchester x daughter!reader #bridgerton one shot #benedict bridgerton x reader #criminal minds oneshot #emily prentiss x reader #eddie munson x reader #kate bishop x reader #mcu oneshot #outer banks one shot #jj maybank x daughter!reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #carol danvers x reader #crowley x platonic reader #anthony bridgerton x sister reader #derek morgan x reader #robin buckley x reader #marc spector x sister!reader #steve rogers x reader #sam winchester x daughter!reader #spencer reid x sister!reader #natasha phoenix trace x reader #top gun one shot

[prentissluvr]

also i am indeed taking cm requests, especially for luke em or hotch! jj too she's my wife <33 and while i'm at it i might as well say i'll take supernatural requests bc like. i should take advantage of this hyperfixation while it's here. romantic and platonic, platonic preferred for dean and men in general LMAO. make sure you check out my rules before requesting anything tyyyy

#criminal minds requests #cm fanfiction #criminal minds emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner requests #aaron hotch x reader #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez requests #jj x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Emmy

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend Emily for a while but see her flirting with JJ, or so you think…

Word Count: 2.1k

Fluff, self doubt? slight miscommunication

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Reader POV:

Why does she have to sit like that?? Like it's so hot. Never thought I'd have a thing for man spreading but here we are. To be honest I never thought I had a thing for brunettes but then Miss Emily Prentiss waltzed into my life and now my perspective of everything has changed.

She's talking to JJ about something and I see Jayj brush over Emily arm, she's flirting, teasing. I'm suddenly grounded again and look down at the file I'm supposed to be working on. I can feel that godforsaken lump in my throat forming. Fuck sake, I can't cry at work. Especially over some stupid unrequited crush. I though Emily was just busy and that's why she's been blowing me off more lately but clearly not. She's found someone else.

I knew Emily would never like me, but damn did it have to hurt this bad? We're best friends which doesn't help the situation although I thought I made my feeling abundantly clear with my glances, touches, comments and flirting. Clearly not. I look up again at the sound of Emily laughing. I could listen to her laugh in repeat all day, it's the best sound in the world in my opinion. But, I soon realise the reason her head is thrown back and her cheeks have become flushed is because of JJ. She's laughing at some joke she made.

I take this as my queue to take my work and go sit with Garcia for a bit, she's like my sister we don't have secrets. I tell her everything, she tells me everything. That's how we work.

I'm walking down the corridor lost in my head and accidentally bump into Rossi.

"Hey, kiddo. Slow down, your gunna run someone over if you keep that speed up!" He said light heartedly with a warm smile. I look at him and mumble a sorry before I try continue my previous beeline to Pen's office. He obviously realised something is off as he grabs my bicep before I can run off again.

"Y/L/N, are you okay?" Those stupid three words, 'are you okay?'. I hate it when people ask because then the waterworks take that as their signal to turn on.

I turn and look him, teary eyed. "Yeah, I'm okay, ah uhm I was just going to see Garcia."

I say chocking back tears.

"Oh kid." He immediately brings me into his embrace, rubbing my back soothingly. This is his way of saying 'I'm here if you wanna talk but I won't press' and that's why I love Rossi. He's always there but never forces you to talk before you happy to. I pull away after a minute.

"Thanks Rossi. I needed that, but I should get to Penelope I have a couple things to run by her." He could tell I was lying and that I was only going to Pen because I needed to talk to her but he went with it anyway.

"Okay well, I'm around if you need okay?" I nod and continue walking to Garcia's office.

I knock the pattern that me and Pen made up my first day on the team so she'd know it was me knocking on the door. "Come in my love!" I hear her call out cheerfully from the other side. Her chair swivels round so she can see me and her once chirpy mood is instantaneously changed to one of extreme concern. "Oh honey what's wrong?" She says as she brings me into a hug.

"It's stupid, Pen." I say realising how childish I'm being right now.

"No," she says pulling away so I can look he in the eye "Your emotions are never stupid. Don't invalidate your feeling y/n/n. Ever." I smile gratefully at her and pull a chair from the corner and sit next to her at her desk. "Okay, so..." and off I went.

I told her about my massive crush on my best friend and how we have been flirting on and off, spending more time alone together, the glances the lingering touches. I told her everything. My cheeks were stained with tears by the time I finished.

"Honey, I don't understand why you're crying though that's all so amazing, what's got you down?" She says the confusion evident in her voice.

"She's been blowing me off so much recently and I didn't know why but I think I just figured it out." My skin around my nail is now bleeding slightly where I've been picking at it. A habit both Emily and me share.

"What is it?" Garcia says realising my hesitation.

"I don't wanna sound jealous or crazy or just downright mean but I think she likes JJ. I mean just now they were talking in the Bullpen and JJ was touching her arm and it wasn't just an innocent touch you know? I could just tell. Then when I tried to ignore it and finish my work I heard Emily laugh at one of her jokes and I looked up to see Em with her head back laughing and Jayj's hand on her shoulder." I choke back sobs while ranting to Pen when someone knocks on the door. "Shit." I mumble under my breath and Pen tells me not to worry and just face the computers and look busy. So I do just that.

"Hey Garcia I need a really quick favour from you if that's okay?" I hear the person say from the doorway. At this moment I think the universe must have it out for me at this point. The person who needs a favour from Garcia is the exact woman I've just spent the last 30 minutes crying over. Emily Fucking Prentiss.

"Oh hi y/n/n!" She says all too cheerfully to be the person who's been cancelling all her plans with me.

"Hi Emmy." After I say hi back I immediately regret it because you can hear the tears in my voice, it's gone all groggy and horrible.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she rushes over to my side after she hears me speak and brings my head to her stomach as she's standing and i'm sitting. Even though she's the reason I'm in this state to begin with I can't help but wrap my arms around her waist and stuff my head into her shirt and take in her comforting presence.

"Uhm I'm gunna leave you two be for a minute." I hear Pen say before she leaves and I hear the door click shut.

Goddamnit Garcia. I think to myself.

"What's got you all worked up, huh?" She says in the most soft, loving voice I've ever heard which just makes me swoon even more.

"Okay, look Em, I'm gunna say a lot of things and I just need you to listen right now okay?" She grabs Garcia's chair and sits opposite me, our knees brushing as she takes my hands in hers to make me stop picking my nails.

"Okay, go for it. I'm all ears." she stares into my eyes and I gaze back into her honey brown eyes, god I could stare at them all day and never get bored.

"You're the reason I'm crying Emmy." she looks taken aback but keeps true to her word and let's me continue nonetheless.

"Emily, I am so scared to say this but there's truly no other way to explain why I'm so upset without telling you. I'm so helplessly in love with you it hurts Em. I thought I was dropping hints with the flirting and the touches and glances but clearly I wasn't obvious enough. You keep blowing me off and saying you're too busy to hang out but I realise now that's not the case. I saw you and JJ in the Bullpen today and the way she was looking at you and how her hand lingered on your arm, and the way she held your shoulder when you were laughing. Even just the way you laughed you threw your head back and everything. Emmy, if you're into JJ that's fine but I just wished you told so I could be let down gently and not feeling like I've been stabbed in the heart."

About halfway through my little rant I started crying again and she started to say my name to try get me to stop talking but I wouldn't listen because I needed to get my feelings out in the air.

"Are you done?" She asked as she brings my hands, that's she's still griping, into her lap, causing me to lean a little closer to her.

"Yes." I say quietly so only she could hear.

"Okay now I'm going to do something and you're not allowed to interrupt me, okay?" The only expression I could see on her face was love and admiration which confused me but I nodded anyway.

"Good. Now, what I want to say is, I love you too y/n/n." A smile is plastered across her face as she confesses to me, my face was quite the opposite. My jaw was on the floor and my eyes were slightly wide.

"What do you mea-" all of a sudden her finger on my lips silenced me.

"I'm not finished." She says with a smirk.

Her finger that was on my lips, now rests on the side of my face cupping my cheek. Her thumb is brushing over my skin as she pulls me in.

Our lips collide and I know it's super cliché but I felt sparks. It's like all the doubts I'd ever had had just dissipated within a millisecond of her lips being on mine. Her free hand moved to my waist as I deepened the kiss by weaving my hand into her raven curls and pulling her impossibly closer. Slowly she coaxes me off the chair and into her lap, and she rests her hand on my hip the other firmly planted on the back of my neck, making sure I don't pull away. Her lips glided across mine like we had done it a thousand times before. Her tongue grazed my bottom lip asking for entrance which I gave her.

After a few minutes of just making out her lips detached from mine and made their way to my neck. I leaned my head to the side to give her more access. She pulled down part of my shirt and sucked at the pale skin. She pulled away and kissed the now purple spot on my chest before covering it back up with my shirt and making her way back to my mouth.

This time the kisses were sweet and short, we broke apart to look at each other when I broke the silence.

"What does this mean Emmy?" I say, My voice full of hope.

"Well my tongue was just down your throat I hope it's clear what this means." She joked and I let out a laugh. "I want to be yours y/n/n, if you'll let me. Also, I never had nor will I ever have a thing for JJ, I promise sweetheart." The use of the nickname made me smile brightly and she noticed taking a mental note to keep using them. She kissed my forehead as I began to speak. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend Em."

At this she kissed me, but this one felt different. All the love and passion we had for one another was poured into this short interaction.

We pulled away as we heard the door click open again and watched Garcia walk in.

"Oh my god! You guys!!" She squealed delighted at the scene in front of her. I smiled and climbed off Emily's lap. "Are you two..?" Pen said, gesturing between me and Emily.

"We sure are!" Em said, looking at me lovingly. I just nodded and thanked Garcia for listening to me cry for nothing before making me way to the door.

Emily's hand found it's way into mine as we began to walk out of Pen's office both smiling and chatting quietly just to one another.

As we walked back into the Bullpen Rossi looked out his office window and gave me a thumbs up, I returned the gesture and sat down at my desk, filled with happiness and briming with excitement about what the future holds.

#wlw #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic #emily prentiss #criminal minds #wlw pride #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you

[januaryembrs]

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

next chpt.

main masterlist.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa. 

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached. 

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up. 

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,” 

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,” 

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different. 

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug. 

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup. 

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct. 

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown. 

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought. 

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up. 

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?” 

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap. 

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned. 

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister. 

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered. 

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,” 

Spencer gulped quietly. 

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze. 

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman. 

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it. 

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors. 

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs. 

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,” 

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?” 

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,” 

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them. 

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter. 

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.” 

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student. 

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again. 

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words. 

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently. 

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore. 

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly. 

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse. 

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish. 

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod. 

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket. 

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours. 

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,” 

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more. 

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet. 

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt. 

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick. 

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her. 

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,” 

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway. 

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny. 

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them. 

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face. 

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder. 

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips. 

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them. 

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed. 

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol. 

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown. 

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze. 

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her. 

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her. 

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly. 

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in. 

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command. 

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,” 

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!” 

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?” 

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand. 

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be. 

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,” 

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep. 

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue. 

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent. 

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],” 

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses. 

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun. 

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],” 

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],” 

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car. 

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,” 

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips. 

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside. 

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,” 

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened. 

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer. 

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera. 

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture. 

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good. 

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately. 

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully. 

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?” 

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,” 

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them. 

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them. 

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls. 

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door. 

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face. 

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice. 

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon. 

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers. 

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?” 

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant. 

-

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod. 

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,” 

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front. 

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost. 

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,” 

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk. 

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?” 

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”  

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh. 

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully. 

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did. 

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over. 

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile. 

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice. 

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat. 

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen. 

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,” 

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,” 

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs. 

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile. 

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,” 

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,” 

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face. 

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat. 

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding. 

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else. 

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from. 

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. 

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,” 

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,” 

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation. 

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately. 

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster. 

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction. 

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,” 

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly. 

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do. 

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight. 

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself. 

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk. 

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her. 

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes. 

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.” 

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too. 

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that. 

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-” 

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant. 

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at. 

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,” 

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed. 

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,” 

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation. 

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing,  “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her. 

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?” 

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,” 

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly. 

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her. 

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-” 

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,” 

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself. 

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

-

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left. 

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes. 

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back. 

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. 

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house. 

-

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes. 

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window. 

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-” 

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her. 

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,” 

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her. 

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number. 

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,” 

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him. 

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so. 

Yet so was Emily. 

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway. 

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?” 

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times. 

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,” 

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown. 

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad. 

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea. 

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat. 

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,” 

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront. 

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose. 

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb. 

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch. 

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear. 

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. 

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh. 

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

-

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan. 

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder. 

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her. 

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury. 

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke. 

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them. 

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,” 

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible. 

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out. 

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan. 

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,” 

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze. 

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,” 

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans. 

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never. 

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far. 

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,” 

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl. 

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,” 

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road. 

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,” 

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line. 

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms. 

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them. 

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,” 

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet. 

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,” 

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later. 

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,” 

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more. 

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,” 

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on. 

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought. 

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,” 

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off. 

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault. 

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block. 

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs. 

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,” 

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas. 

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth. 

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back. 

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life. 

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk. 

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face. 

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table. 

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again. 

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up. 

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough. 

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-” 

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words. 

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast. 

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!�� She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing. 

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming. 

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered. 

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation. 

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,” 

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down. 

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you. 

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,” 

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-” 

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

-

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-” 

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled? 

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her. 

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother. 

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery. 

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.” 

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it. 

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close. 

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab. 

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika. 

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps. 

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was. 

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her. 

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them. 

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat. 

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand. 

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs. 

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close. 

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer. 

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team. 

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,” 

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand. 

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer. 

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy. 

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling. 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss. 

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready. 

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound. 

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?” 

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,” 

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy. 

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup. 

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path. 

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on. 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first. 

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye. 

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?” 

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing. 

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,” 

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track. 

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses. 

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm. 

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand. 

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,” 

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers. 

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long. 

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant. 

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,” 

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound. 

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there. 

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back. 

-

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before. 

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

 Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it. 

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off. 

That was when the shooting started. 

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening. 

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye. 

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church. 

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised. 

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen. 

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister. 

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person. 

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall. 

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.” 

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine. 

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting. 

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed. 

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,” 

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away. 

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax. 

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze. 

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes. 

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered. 

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said. 

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push. 

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,” 

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,” 

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did. 

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals. 

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving. 

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,” 

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again. 

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,” 

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,” 

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,” 

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly. 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude. 

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious. 

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness. 

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them. 

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou. 

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her. 

 “The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick. 

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage. 

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive. 

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice. 

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms. 

This was not good. 

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression. 

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach. 

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily. 

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won. 

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple. 

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight. 

“It’s me,” 

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving. 

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head. 

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture. 

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull. 

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them. 

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was. 

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least. 

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her. 

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds. 

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating. 

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl. 

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,” 

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,” 

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed. 

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action. 

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over. 

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless. 

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now. 

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority. 

2:53 stared back at her. 

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened. 

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle. 

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor. 

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them. 

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical. 

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost. 

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth. 

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free. 

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet. 

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine. 

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why. 

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight. 

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps. 

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle. 

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more. 

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her. 

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her. 

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared,  still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs. 

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly. 

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his. 

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved. 

“You saved mine,” 

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay. 

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying. 

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes. 

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building. 

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors. 

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse. 

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran. 

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state. 

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight. 

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius. 

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister. 

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-” 

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug. 

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner. 

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body. 

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric. 

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!” 

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave. 

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days. 

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,” 

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog. 

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back. 

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll. 

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,” 

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat. 

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more. 

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-” 

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings. 

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?” 

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,” 

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,” 

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess. 

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. 

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,” 

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off. 

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist. 

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess. 

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,” 

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be. 

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through. 

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #Prentiss #prentiss!Reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #mathew grey gubler #Matthew grey gubler x reader

[the-guilty-writer]

Exist

Request from anon: Ok so here goes - feel free to ignore because this is a strange request.

Emily Prentiss/ sister reader- when she “dies”. Reader was closest to Spencer but can’t bare to have anything that reminds her of her sister.

She goes off grid and doesn’t find out that Emily is alive until a whole while later.

(You can change the ending if u want)

Emily Prentiss x sister!reader, Spencer Reid x platonic!reader

Summary: After Emily’s death, you take an undercover job with Interpol. When your assignment is over you come back to an intense surprise.

A/N: Thanks for this request! I hope you like it! All feedback is appreciated.

CW: Spoilers for season 6 and 7, fake deaths, one mention of periods, spencer being abandoned by someone he cares about

---

She never made it off the table.

The phrase was only seven words and nine syllables, but it changed your entire world.

Emily was older than you by three years, but that didn’t stop the two of you from being close. Your family moved around so much when you were growing up it was impossible to keep friends and your parents were always busy with work. Your sister was the person who held your hand on the first day of kindergarten, and taught you how to use period products, and helped you through your first heartbreak. Emily was the only constant in your life- the person who was always there.

And now she wasn’t. She never would be again.

---

Cleaning out your sister’s apartment was Hell on earth. You gave Sergio to Garcia, but part of you just wanted every other thing that had belonged to Emily to be burned so you wouldn’t have to touch it, or see it, or think about it. Your brain knew that it wouldn’t change anything- that the hurt would always be there- but your heart thought that if you turned everything your sister owned to ashes you could let them drift away in the wind as if they never existed in the first place.

Continuing to work at the BAU didn’t make it any easier. Every inch of the place was covered with memories of your sister; from the desk she used to sit at, to the mugs she drank her coffee out of, to the printer she could never get to work right. you saw your sister everywhere.

You couldn’t even look at your coworkers anymore.

You couldn’t look at Derek because every time you just remembered the inside joke he shared with you and your sister. You couldn’t look at Penelope because you could only think of that time at the bar with “Brad the real FBI agent”. You couldn’t look at Hotch because you could only hear him saying that he wished he and Sean could get along like you and Emily. You couldn’t look at Rossi because it only reminded you that he was the only other person you could converse in Italian with now. You couldn’t look at Spencer because he was your only best friend now that your sister was gone.

You couldn’t do your job anymore. You couldn’t be here. You bypassed Hotch and went straight to Strauss with your letter of immediate resignation. You would have almost gotten away with disappearing into thin air if Penelope wasn’t so good at her job.

“(Y/N).” Reid called from the other side of your apartment door. Of course the team sent Spencer to try to convince you to stay- who else would it be? “(Y/N), please let me in.”

You begrudgingly opened the door and let him inside, not bothering to greet him. Everything you owned was already packed in boxes, ready to be put in storage. The only things you were taking with you was what could fit in your suitcase.

“Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?” Spencer asked. You followed his gaze as he looked around the apartment. The furniture was still in its place, but the shelf that once held books was empty. The pictures on the walls had been taken down. Every trace that this was the place you lived was gone.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I kinda was.”

“Why?” Spencer’s voice cracked and his eyes were large. “We’re your family. You can’t just go away.”

Thus far you had held off on crying- even at your sister’s funeral you had refused to shed tears- but now they were streaming down your face and you were unable to stop them. “I can’t stay here, Spencer.” Your voice was no louder than a whisper. “I don’t know how to exist in a world without my sister.”

“So you just aren’t going to exist anymore?” Spencer asked, as if it was an impossible feat.

“Yeah,” you said. “Interpol’s pretty good at making people not exist.”

“Where are you going?” His eyes got wide with worry.

“Spencer, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“We just lost Emily. We can’t-” he took a deep breath. “I can’t lose you too.”

But your mind was already made up. You pulled Spencer into a hug and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. It was wet with his tears. Letting go and looking into his soft hazel eyes, you knew the words you would leave him with: “You can’t lose what never existed.”

A year and a half later…

Of all places to choose, Russia had been a good one- you never lived there as a kid, but spoke enough of the language to get by at first and now that you had spent two years in the middle of only-god-knows-where, Russia you were fluent in the language. Most of all, there was nothing to remind you of your sister. For two blissful years you lived as someone entirely different- someone who wasn’t (Y/N) Prentiss- but all good things have to come to an end.

You stepped into Interpol headquarters in France and expected to feel your sister’s spirit lurking in the room, but after two years the ghost caused by grief had dissipated. Even as you made your way through the building, a place you and Emily had walked side-by-side in more times than you could count, you didn’t feel like there was someone absent.

“Agent Prentiss,” the name didn’t sting anymore when someone spoke it, “you did a fantastic job. It’s not easy to go somewhere that remote for such long periods of time.”

“If I’m being honest I think the remoteness is what made it easier.” Because there was nothing to remind me that Emily is gone.

“Well, you’ve done this in the past so I won’t bore you with the details for too long. Protocol for coming off such a long assignment requires you to take at least three months off, paid of course, and we recommend that you go somewhere that will help you become steady in your identity again,” the director said. “I know you have lived the longest in DC so-”

“I was thinking Italy, actually,” you said.

The director was about to open his mouth to say something when there was a knock on his office door. Without bothering to wait to see if they could come in, the person waltzed over to the director, handed him a manila folder, and waltzed out like they owned the place. The director looked down at the folder with so much dread you thought he might vomit all over his desk.

“Sir,” you started politely. “What is in the folder?”

He looked up at you. His eyes darkened in a way you had only seen at funerals- it was the look in the eyes of the partner of the dead agent- but there was a pity with it too. It was a combination you had never seen before, and you weren’t sure what to do with it, how it should make you feel.

“We’re sending you to London,” he said slowly.

“I’ve never lived in London-”

“We’re sending you to London,” he said again. This time it was louder and slower. “Because Emily is moving there. She is alive.”

---

The rest of the conversation was a blur, but you caught all the important parts: your sister was alive. Her death was only set up to keep her safe from Doyle. Doyle was dead. Emily was alive.

Emily had faked her death for six months.

Emily had known you went underground in Russia.

Emily had come out of hiding and worked with the BAU for a year.

Emily was alive.

And nobody told you.

For a whole year, Emily had been able to tell people she was alive and healthy and well and no one even bothered to try to let you know. None of the handlers said anything. No one mentioned it in clandestine letters. No one told you.

But for a year and a half, (Y/N) Prentiss didn’t exist. When you had gone undercover, Interpol made you disappear into thin air- all electronic history erased, your bank accounts liquidated to cash and vaulted away, even your birth certificate, which you were holding now, was locked in a safe. You had become as much of a ghost as she had.

The car stopped quickly in front of the London Interpol building, jerking you back to the present. For a moment you wondered if this was real- if you were seriously about to walk into the building and see your sister alive. Maybe it was all just a dream- her death, you leaving, her being alive, you finding out. Maybe you would wake up in your apartment back in DC just to find out that none of this was ever real.

But then you saw her- her dark eyes and raven hair. You felt her arms around you- the ones that held you as a child and hugged you as an adult. You heard her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

And you should have been mad. Hell, you should have been furious. Emily had been alive for a whole year and she never tried to reach out. She never bothered to let you know that the pain you carried and worked through and accepted didn’t need to exist at all. But the relief you felt, seeing her in the flesh canceled out every negative emotion you could have felt.

“I’m just glad you’re really here,” you told her.

Emily smiled just a little bit- that sly and knowing smile you had grown to know meant she knew something you didn’t.

“There is someone who is glad you’re here.” She gestured for you to turn around and when you did, Spencer was standing there.

His hair had gotten longer, but otherwise he was almost exactly the same- tall, lanky frame clothed in slacks and a cardigan, chocolate curls that were ever-so-slightly unruly, and wide hazel eyes that looked through you as if he could read your mind.

You launched yourself at him, pulling him into a hug. He gripped you back, tighter than he ever had before. You felt him press his head into your shoulder. His breathing was heavy in your ear. 

“(Y/N),” he whispered, just loud enough that you could hear.

“Spence.” You pulled him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Spencer pulled away and looked at you the same way you had when you told him you were leaving.

“I wanted to tell you about Emily,” he started. “I couldn’t find any way to send things to you and Garcia tried to find you but she couldn’t and-”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you told him. “I know you would have told me if you could have.”

He pulled you into another hug, this one more gentle than the last. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pressed his head into your shoulder again. Behind Spencer, you could see Emily smiling softly at the two of you.

It felt impossible- having your two best friends in one room again- but it felt whole and it felt right.

Once again, you could exist.

#criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x sister!reader #emily prentiss x platonic!reader #spencer reid x platonic!reader #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds

[cas-kingdom]

The Art of Parenting

A/N: This took a lot of time and motivation to finish, so it isn’t my best, but honestly I’m just glad to have it up and posted at this point, haha. Hopefully you enjoy it all the same.

In my OC’s (reader’s) world, our fave seven are no longer together by the time she officially becomes a member of the BAU. But let’s imagine for the sake of this fic that they are. <3

As usual, reader is Spencer’s sister and this fic is entirely platonic.

Title: The Art of Parenting

Summary: On the jet home, you find Hotch in need of some reassurance. And a blanket.

Words: 2634

As unexpected as it was to see the youngest of the unit walk sluggishly down the jet’s aisle, wrapped from head to way behind your toes in a heavy duvet and clutching two pillows to her chest, nobody could say with certainty that it was surprising.

And, frankly, as sudden laughter and teasing remarks shattered the previously dismal atmosphere of the jet typical after a case, nobody could say it wasn’t appreciated.

Between Rossi’s almost disgruntled “Why’d I never think of that?” and Emily and J.J.’s pleas to toss them both a pillow each, Derek pushed his headphones back and breathed a short burst of laughter.

“Oh, Princess, you did not.”

“It’s an eight-hour flight home,” you stated matter-of-factly, “you can bet your ass I did.”

You sat between him and Spencer, the latter absorbed in a book about insects, and crossed your legs beneath you. With little reluctance, as though you’d been expecting as much, you threw the pillows in the direction of Emily and J.J.. A stream of thanks and praises came your way immediately. Sleeping on a long plane ride home was bad enough, but sleeping after five days of running, shooting, yelling, punching, and powered by nothing but caffeine was rough. A pillow was capable of making that sleep the best damn sleep they’d ever had.

“Y/N—” J.J.’s voice was muffled by the pillow she’d stuck her face in—“you’re my lifesaver right now, and I love you.”

Emily pushed herself up on an elbow. “Do you happen to have a sleep mask back there?”

Derek waved her off and sat forward as you made yourself comfortable, spreading your duvet out around you. “Forget about that,” he said, “tell me you brought enough for all of us.”

A general hush encompassed the jet. Rossi leant forward expectantly, one brow quirked, and even Hotch, thus far silent in his own corner as he bent over a pile of paperwork, paused for a moment, his head tilted to await your answer. J.J. was utterly gone, it seemed, though Emily was still waiting for confirmation of a sleep mask.

You gave Derek a look. Derek clucked his tongue and shook his head, sitting back against his seat. You, because you were you, immediately unwrapped yourself from your blanket burrito and handed him a corner so he could pull it across him. Derek’s teasing look of misery dropped in an instant, and he accepted the corner with a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” With that, he pulled his headphones over his ears and shut his eyes, sinking down the couch enough that the duvet touched his chin.

“Sooo…that’s a no on the sleep mask?”

“Sorry, Em.”

The jet settled again after a sigh and a wave of the hand from Emily. Soft snores were just about audible from underneath J.J.’s pillow, Rossi had made himself comfortable in his seat, head in the palm of his hand, and Hotch’s momentary distraction had not thwarted his determination to finish his work before you landed. You watched him for a moment, noting the trademark crease in his brow as he hunched over documents.

And the man wondered why he got so many headaches.

“Did you know that a ladybug will prepare for a food shortage by laying infertile eggs for her young to eat once they hatch?”

Spencer hadn’t taken his eyes from his page, completely immersed, and wouldn’t have noticed if his sudden statement didn’t even gain a response. Still, instinctively, you turned away from Hotch and towards your brother, peering in total interest down at what he was reading. “Creepy,” you said.

“Resourceful,” Spencer corrected.

“You’re telling me you’d procreate and go through nine months of pregnancy and hours of painful labour only to give the baby away to be eaten by your other kids once it’s born?”

Spencer looked up. A puckered brow temporarily marred his features. “Actually,” he said, “the time taken by ladybugs to lay eggs after mating varies and can sometimes be as little as seven days or as long as two to three months. Once the eggs are laid they can take between three and ten days to hatch.” There were a couple beats of silence, both of you staring at the other, before Spencer sniffed and turned back to his book. “And I can’t get pregnant.”

Years ago, before and at the beginning of his career, sarcasm had been alien to Spencer. Since then, you were proud to say he’d become one with a few more human traits. Teasing being one of them, as was proven when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye and let a playful smile slip onto his face. You breathed a quiet laugh and leant your head against his shoulder when he snuck an arm around you.

“Your pillows have been taken hostage,” he reminded you. His eyes were still following the words in front of him, but he’d slowed his pace. Still an exceptionally abnormal pace, but normal enough that he could read while talking. He lowered his voice a bit, well aware the rest of the plane, save from Hotch, was deep in sleep. “Do we plan a rescue attempt?”

You hummed. “You’re comfy enough.”

Spencer smiled and glanced at his watch. “How about utilising my comfiness and getting some sleep?”

You rose an eyebrow at his subtlety. “You know I stopped being twelve over ten years ago?”

“One of the parenting books I read when you were little said that parenting is a lifetime job and does not stop when a child grows up.”

You looked critically up at him. “What about you?”

“Uh, I think I’ll stay up for a bit and read.”

Needless to say, you knew when you next woke he’d be beaten by sleep. You shuffled down the length of the couch so you could put your head in your brother’s lap and curled your legs beneath you so that you didn’t accidentally kick Derek.

An as yet undetermined amount of time later, you woke to Spencer deeper in sleep than even you had been. His book still in his hand, so close to the end, the genius was slumped against the side of the couch, head lolling uncomfortably back. He had his free hand on your shoulder, an instinctual thing, and as you blinked away the residual drowsiness you squinted at the watch on his wrist. 2:30 am. You hadn’t been sleeping long.

You sat up, careful not to jostle your brother. Derek was still tucked beneath his end of the blanket, his headphones halfway to falling off. You reached across to gently tug them from him before he ended with an ear cushion in his eye.

Emily and J.J. hadn’t moved from beneath their pillows, and Rossi seemed to have stretched himself out across the opposite couch while you’d been asleep.

The gentle hum of the plane’s engine would have caused you to doze off again if it weren’t for the sight of Hotch, still in his corner and hunched over his work. The man was unbelievable.

After a hefty amount of blinking and rubbing, you let loose another yawn before standing to your feet. You noticed Hotch glance up at the movement, and he offered a tired smile as you walked down the plane’s aisle towards him. You had intended on slipping into the seat opposite him but at a sudden remembrance slowed halfway. Hotch frowned lightly and you pointed a finger at him to wait before walking past him and towards where you’d all stored your bags before flying.

When you reappeared with a second duvet even thicker than the one now spread evenly across Spencer and Derek, even Hotch couldn’t refrain from chuckling. He still held his pen in his hand but let his eyes move from his papers for a moment as he sat back.

“What’s this?” he asked.

You smiled as you passed him the duvet, feeling some sense of victory when he didn’t hesitate before taking it. Sitting opposite him, you watched him settle it around himself. It was some solace to see him visibly relax beneath it.

“I knew someone would need it,” you said. Then, after fleeting reluctance, “How much do you wanna bet I knew that someone would be you?”

Hotch, because he truly was not as harsh as those on the outside would consider the permanent lines in his forehead and coarse glint in his eye to mean, chuckled softly. “Nothing, thank you,” he said, resigned.

You breathed a laugh. “How much longer do we have?” You turned in your seat and stretched your legs out across the length of it, leaning back against the wall. The shutter had been pulled down over the window, but you reached over with a finger to crack it open slightly. No light flooded onto Hotch’s workspace, so you imagined there was still a while to go. It didn’t bother you, of course. You knew there was always the possibility that a new case would land in your faces the moment you stepped off the plane. Any slither of solitude in the confinements of the jet was precious.

“Four hours, give or take.” Hotch was silent for a moment, but you had a sense you were suddenly being scrutinised as you continued to peer aimlessly out of the crack in the window. Keeping your head in place, you flicked your eyes to the side, gaining uneasy confirmation when you noticed his gaze on you.

Hotch rose an eyebrow. “What is it?” he asked.

Your eyes involuntarily widened. “Huh?” Hotch let his lips twitch knowingly upwards, and you decided after a moment to reciprocate it. With confidence built up over almost fifteen years in his company, you leant forward and clasped your hands on the table in front of you. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” you said.

He sat back. “I know.”

“I know you know.”

Hotch put his pen down. He absently glanced around the jet, as though assuring himself everyone was still asleep. Then, sighing, he returned his gaze to you. “Jack asked about his mother on the phone this morning.”

You frowned. “I’ve heard Jack talk about Haley before.”

“He has. Really, I encourage it. I wouldn’t want him to forget her. But he…” Hotch hesitated, the words so obviously clinging to the end of his tongue. For as much as he encouraged his team to talk to someone when they were struggling, he certainly didn’t act upon his own advice. Still, the rarity of it and the love you held for him made you the most patient you’d been.

“This morning,” Hotch continued quietly, “he asked specifically about her death.” Another pause, though only so he could take an encouraging breath. “He asked if Haley was shot in the head or the heart. Said he couldn’t remember which.”

You couldn’t say you weren’t taken aback, and Hotch noticed it immediately. He sat up straighter, apprehension entering his posture. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, “I shouldn’t be saying this to you. You don’t need this.”

“Hey.” You shook your head to make sure he knew he’d gotten the wrong idea. “Neither do you. Share the load a bit. It’s okay.”

His gratitude was obvious as he relaxed a bit, sitting back against his seat and staring out the crack in the window. It was still dark, but the light from the moon highlighted the clouds as you passed. He found it easy to focus on them as he arranged his thoughts.

“He’s growing up,” he concluded eventually, “and he’s becoming more curious about his mom…it’s natural, I know, but it’s…”

“Terrifying?”

Hotch shrugged in defeat, yet a smile still pulled at his lips. “I’m not sure how Spencer did it with you,” he admitted.

You lifted yourself slightly to peer over the back of the seat. Your brother was still deep in sleep, utter innocence on his face. You found yourself smiling still when you sat back down to look at him. “You did it too, you know,” you said. At Hotch’s silence, you continued. “It wasn’t just Spence raising me. Of course, he did the majority of it, but I was nine when I met the rest of the team. You all raised me, you all had to let go of the fact I wasn’t a kid anymore at some point. If you can do it with me, you can do it again with Jack, I promise you.”

Hotch hadn’t thought about it like that, but your presence in the team always brought about new angles. It was true that Spencer’s addition to the team had included his younger sister, and it was also true that, whether prepared for it or not, they had all been surrogate parents to you in at least some way throughout your life. They had watched you grow up, imparted their own life lessons, and, yes, at some point, they had had to accept the fact that you didn’t need them quite so much anymore. He seemed to remember his own awakening had been when you’d come into his office at eighteen with a mug of coffee after claiming for years the taste was too bitter. Somehow, seeing you sat opposite him with one leg crossed over the other and occasionally sipping at your latte, realisation had snuck up on him that you absolutely was no longer the nine-year-old he’d used to have to clean chocolate from.

In more ways than one, the reminder soothed his soul, the parts of it aching for his little boy to remain little for just a while longer. He had always been afraid of the process, perhaps because each year Jack grew older marked another year without Haley.

With a hum of acknowledgement, Hotch ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really. That’s helped.”

“Sometimes you just need a reminder,” you said. “You’ve done it before. Sure, this time will be a little different, but you’ve got the tools to make it work.”

Hotch frowned playfully. “Haven’t I said those exact words to you before?”

“No comment.”

He laughed then, with not much regard to the others sleeping on the plane, before stretching an arm out in obvious invitation. You felt a warmth immediately settle within you as you got up to sit beside him, settling in between him and his arm and accepting the bit of the duvet he passed along to you. You were a creature of habit, and since a child you had always found your comfort in the arms of one of the BAU team members, whoever happened to be closest. Such a comfort had naturally been less sought after as you’d grown older, especially from Hotch, but it only meant each offer from him was appreciated more.

“And don’t worry about Jack’s questions,” you whispered, shutting your eyes. “I remember having the same curiosities about my parents when I was growing up. I just wanted to know more about them, about myself.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting more.”

“Hmm.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

You yawned, the lull of the plane catching up to you once again. You leaned further into Hotch’s side and absently pat his hand sitting at your shoulder. Already half asleep, you murmured an “It’ll be okay”, not even reacting when Hotch pressed a small kiss to the crown of your head and pushed the documents he’d been working on to the other side of the table. He closed his own eyes, feeling somewhat at peace, with, really, the first of both his kids in his arms.

And if the team’s next go bags were mostly stuffed with pillows, blankets, and sleep masks…none of the jet’s staff ever mentioned it.

Criminal Minds Masterpost

#criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #sister reader #sister!reader #derek morgan #derek x reader #derek morgan x reader #emily prentiss #emily x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jj x reader #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #garcia x reader #penelope garcia x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #rossi x reader #david rossi x reader #david rossi #mine #reader #reader fic

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

The third Schemmenti

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Sister!Reader, Emily Prentiss x Writer!Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, drunk calls, Child neglect, Melissa being a prune, mentions of passing, sickness, mentions of divorce

Word count:1,113

"You should read this book" Jacob spoke to nobody in particular "What's it about?" Janine asked as she took a seat beside him. "It's a story through the eyes of a girl about her family, she was the middle child. Always had to be great-do great, she was the black sheep".

Melissa kept her eyes on her crossword as she listened to him continue "Ann, Ellie and Marie are all sisters, Ellie is... a glass child". Melissa's ears perked up Ann, Ellie and Marie were the names of her and her two sisters.

"She has a book signing this Sunday, we should go" Jacob suggested before being shut down.

Later that day after work Melissa raced to the nearest store to find that damned book plaguing her mind. It was too familiar to her and the author didn't help when she held it in her hands.

Y/n Schemmenti

I listened from my bedroom next door as my older sister sobbed over her grades, she wasn't failing but wanting to please our parents was hard. I waited as she went to the bathroom to wash up the remnants of her tears before slowly treading into the kitchen.

I made her a cup of tea, leaving it on her desk so she wouldn't have to lie to Marie, the youngest of us three. Still innocent to the world of grief and the next day when Ann left for work after school, her cup was empty.

And as I washed off the residue of her pink peachy lipstick I struggled with how to help her not become like me. My parents often spoke about our differences, Ann and Marie were perfect while I was always out of touch- too "unique".

Ann was tired when she arrived home just before dinner, I knew her schedule by now so I had done her schoolwork. Placing it neatly in a folder that she'd slip into her bag by the morning ready for college.

She was always out of the house and the same went for Marie, where Ann had a job Marie had dance. My hands placed face down on the counter as my mother placed a kiss on their faces praising them outwardly.

Melissa lifted her head from the book "It was her all that time?" She whispered as her voice cracked slightly. The redhead sighed angry with herself, she'd berate you for going into her room not realising that you were the one doting after her.

I hope she wasn't angry with me, Marie. Bless her, loved to raid our wardrobes for whatever pretty dresses she could find. One day Marie had been careless ending in Ann's beautiful green silk gown to be ruined.

Ann had worked hard for that dress so she'd look good for Joel, a man she'd one day marry. When she arrived home I took the blame, I couldn't fathom Marie being punished so I took the hit.

My days soon became school, work and protecting my sisters from as much of this gruesome world as I could. I worked to replace Ann's dress, late nights and early mornings until my back was numbed from pain and my fingers nearly bled.

Marie had asked me after I came back with the new dress in hand why I took the blame for something I hadn't done. I merely shrugged saying "It's my job to protect my sisters" Marie nodded but I could see in her eyes she still felt guilty.

"Oh Y/n/n, I'm so sorry" Melissa whimpered to nobody as she almost sobbed, she too had never understood anything until now. Why you had left, never attended family dinners, ignored your parent's calls, you were strong.

The redhead continued to read until the early mornings of Saturday and even though she had watched you grow. She found that there was still more of her little sister she had yet to learn.

My sister had called me for the first time in five years, drunk. My mother had passed, and I wasn't invited to the funeral although the family believed that I had been.

Ann began to blame me for her divorce, our mother dying, her fallout with our sister Marie, Nonna becoming Ill and much more. I listened to her for hours as she screamed, cried and begged.

Ann was in her mind meant to be the strongest since she was the eldest but she forgot that she too was human just like me. She had passed out exhausted from her wails, I called her best friend to check on her the next day.

From Virginia, I flew back to Philadelphia to visit Nonna for what I thought would be my last time. I held her hand as I cried beside her hospital bed, she told me to give it time...Ann would come around.

Marie would be the first to call again, Nonna would be fine that she had pulled through. I visited when I could, my sisters- we had changed. Nothing would ever be as they were and I'll always carry the burden.

But almost fifteen years later, Ann still hadn't come around, maybe it was her pride or naturally strong will. Sometimes I wonder if she misses me just as much as I do her, my older sister was well and truly my dearest friend.

Melissa held her breath as she walked into the now rowdy bookstore, there you were...her little Y/n/n. She had heard you laughing at one of the smaller children's jokes as you signed their mother's book.

You were glowing in your sky-blue summer dress, Melissa took her place in line anxiously waiting to talk to you.

She thought about turning around and leaving once she was next in line, you looked up with a gasp. "M-Melissa?" She dropped the book softly onto the table below "I read it, your book" she whispered.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise, I'm sorry too"

You had stood rounding the table to hug the woman, it hadn't been until you were in her arms that she noticed your swollen belly. "You're pregnant?" Melissa asked "Number two" you giggled before a joyful "Mommy!" Boomed before little arms were around your legs.

"Baby, who's this?" Asked Emily as she pressed a kiss to your cheek "This is Melissa honey, my sister". Your wife nodded before looking over at the redhead "Agent Emily Prentiss but you may call me Emily" she teased.

"Oh em ghee" you groaned "The feds?" Melissa asked looking your way "She's hot" you argued.

"Thank you, Emily, for taking care of my sister for me. God knows she deserves a person like you"

#imagine #wlw #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa ann schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x sister!reader

[hotch-stufff]

Snippets of Our Life

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Wc: 5.0k

Warnings: A Lot, injuries, surgery, near death experiences, child death, birth, suggestive stuff kinda, hurt/comfort, fluff, but also lots of angst, but a shit ton of fluff too

Description: You and Aaron’s relationship through visits to the hospital.

A/n: Description sounds weird, but it’s basically you and Hotch falling in love and snippets of that. I’m describing this horribly, but just read it, there’s a lot packed into this. I love it, hope you will too <3. Gif not mine.

~Masterlist~

————————————-

“Spencer Walter Reid!” Your voice is shrill amongst the hallways as you march into your brother’s hospital room. “What the hell were you thinking?!” You ignore the group of people staring at you confused as you walk swiftly to the side of his bed and grab his chart.

“I-“ you didn’t let him speak.

“I specifically told you no field work until the ankle was healed. Now you’re back in here, with another fracture!” Your voice had lowered significantly, but the anger was still clear.

“I’m sorry, the unsub was going to get away! I did what I needed to do.” You nod but still stare at him grumpily.

“You need to be more careful, stop showing up to my ER.” He nods and you ruffle his hair playfully. He smacks your hand away but you send each other a smile. “Now, introduce me to your team.” You turn and face the group who had just watched you yell at their teammate.

“Oh right, guys, this is Dr. Y/n Reid, my sister.” Their faces change from confusion to understanding. “Y/n, this is Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, JJ, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner.” Your eyes linger on the man on the end, he’s handsome no doubt. He stares right back at you and you send him a small smile, something your brother definitely catches.

“Nice to meet you all.”

“It is very nice to meet you.” Derek comes up and takes your hand in his own before pressing a kiss on the back of it. You scoff at his forewardness.

“Morgan, not my sister.” Spencer warns, and you laugh.

“Sorry Morgan, not my type.” He laughs and so does the rest of the group.

You sit and get to know them, and of course share embarrassing stories of Spencer from when he was young. You do take a special interest in Hotch, as the team called him. He’s a bit closed off, but once you get him talking, he doesn’t seem to want to stop. The team seems surprised by this, and you guess he isn’t the talking kind.

Eventually your pager goes off and you bid the team and your brother farewell. You send one last lingering look at Hotch, before leaving and heading down the hall.

You don’t see Hotch again for a few days. You regularly check on your brother, you demanded he stay a few days so you can keep an eye on him. He doesn’t mind, lots of free jello. The team had been taking turns staying with him, and finally it seemed to be his turn.

You walk in the room and find Spence talking his ear off about astrophysics.

“It’s fascinating really, all of the things we don’t know, and the fact that we keep discovering more and more. Like the-“ he cuts himself off when he sees you walk in. Rolling his eyes he scoffs playfully. “I don’t need you to check in every hour Y/n/n.”

“I’m just making sure you are following doctor’s orders.” You eye him and turn to Hotch. “Is he?”

“For the most part. Aside from the resting part.” You chuckle and so does Hotch. Spence just stares at you unamused.

“Well I’m going to grab you some food, some actual food, not just jello.” You say as he holds up a cup. “Care to join me Hotch?”

“Sure Dr. Reid.” He says with no hesitation. The formal title makes you sag a little but a small smile makes its way to your face. You both leave the room with promises of being back soon.

“Aaron.” Hotch says as you walk down the hall.

“Huh?”

“Call me Aaron.” You can’t hold back your grin.

“Then please, I insist, call me Y/n.” He nods as you make your way to the cafeteria. Again once he begins talking he doesn’t seem to want to stop. You could talk to this man for hours. He tells you about how good of an agent your brother is, and eventually moves on to more personal subjects like his son Jack.

“He sounds like an angel.” You say softly looking at a picture of Jack on Aaron’s phone.

“He really is. Losing his mom was difficult for him, but he’s adjusting.” His eyes are sad when he says it, but there is also a sense of calm around him.

“God Aaron, I’m so sorry.” You say.

“It’s alright, it was a while ago.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.” He nods sadly and you share a smile before moving on to a more lighthearted topic. Eventually you check your watch and realize nearly an hour had gone by.

“It was really nice to talk to you Aaron.” You say as you walk back to Spence’s room. “We should uh, do it again sometime.” He stiffens beside you and you instantly regret your words.

“That probably wouldn’t be appropriate Dr. Reid.” Your heart falls with the sting of rejection.

“Oh.” You clear your throat. ”Of course Agent Hotchner.” You walk a little quicker, wanting to get back to work as soon as possible.

“Wow, right back?” Spencer chides as you walk back in.

“Yeah um, sorry.” You murmur. “I have to get back to work. We’re going to discharge you tomorrow, so you can get back to work. The nurse will talk it over with you.” You say in a rush before setting his food down and turning to leave.

“Hey hey hey. What happened?” He asks, and you shake your head before Aaron walked back in.

“I need to get back to work.” You press a kiss on his forehead before walking towards the door. Spence stares quizzically at the door before turning to look at the solemn and regretful look in Hotch’s face. He quickly puts two and two together.

“She’s single. She is fantastic with kids. She understands busy schedules, her own is a mess. And from what I can tell from her dating patterns, you seem to be her type. So what happened?” Hotch cursed himself for forgetting how observant the young profiler was.

“It’s inappropriate, she’s your sister. She’s, she’s young.”

“You’re struggling to find excuses. You’re obviously attracted to her. Don’t overthink it Hotch. Just go ask the woman to dinner.” Hotch, admittedly, was taken aback by Reid’s abruptness but knew he was right. He turns to leave the room, and looks around, spotting you at the nurse’s station.

A week later you go on your first date and you remind yourself to send a special thank you to your brother.

——————————————-

“Code Blue!” A voice sounds across the hall and your head snaps up as the alarm goes off. A cart is grabbed and you're already sprinting down to the room.

“She’s coding!” Dr. Greene, a fellow surgeon and close friend, stands above the body of a little girl, performing chest compressions.

“Charge to two hundred!” You say as you step forward, grabbing the paddles and watching her monitor. You hear her parents cry out behind you. “Get them out of here, now.”

“Charged.”

“Clear!”

“We’ve got a pulse.”

“Prepare an OR!” People rush around as you grab the railing of the bed and move quickly to the elevator. Once you reach the floor, you instruct the nurses to take her in as you and Greene begin scrubbing in.

You don’t say a word but you look at each other and nod before walking in. Two nurses suit you up with gloves, gowns, and masks, and you get to work.

Instruments fly between hands as you begin, doing everything you knew how to.

It was a simple surgery, one you’ve done a thousand times before. But this time on a little girl, Lucy, who was far too sick for her young age. She had been deteriorating week after week, and had finally seemed to be getting better after treatments. Her parents, Mindy and Carl, had grown close to you over the weeks of treatment for their daughter.

“Dr. Reid, there’s a man here to see you. Agent Hotchner.” You smile softly, but continue working.

“Tell him I’m in emergency surgery and will be out as soon as possible.” She nods and stalks out.

Aaron had heard all about Lucy in the weeks since you had started dating. That in itself was its own story. You two understood each other's busy schedule and even had to reschedule your first date three times before it even happened. But you understood each other like no one else seemed to. Tonight he had promised to take you out for a fancy dinner, it would be your fifteenth date and you were just excited to spend time with him.

You prayed the surgery didn’t run too late, but didn’t focus on anything but the precious little girl in front of you. Seconds go by, then minutes, then what feels like hours.

“Heart rates dropping.” Your nurse breaks the silence that fills the room.

“Why, that doesn’t make any sense.” You say, your head shooting to the monitor. You continue working until the beeping intensifies.

“Pressures low and continuing to drop.”

“There’s too much blood.” You say as panic rises. “Sponge. Keep them coming.”

“Where is it coming from?” Greene’s and your own moves become more frantic as her heart rate continues to drop.

“She’s in vfib!”

“Internal Defibrillators!”

“She’s coding!”

“Charge!”

“Clear.” Nothing.

“Charge again!”

“Clear!” Nothing.

“Charge Again!” You shout desperately.

“Clear!” Still nothing. Greene backs down and steps back, his shoulders sagging. The nurses take a step back too and you look around.

“What are you doing? Charge again!” You shout.

“Reid.” You shake your head.

“No. Charge again.” You hear the paddles charging. “Clear.” Another shock, and still nothing. Your heart falls and you struggle to take in a breath. You stare at the monitor, praying for something, anything.

“Time of death, 19:07.” You back up and rip your gloves off, your mask soon following. The gown is next as you storm out. You pace the hallway, trying to calm your breathing.

“Reid. I’ll tell the parents.” Greene, Paul, says as he walks out of the OR.

“No.” You murmur. “They need to hear it from me.” He nods before patting your shoulder. You take a deep breath before stalking towards the waiting room. Her parents are sitting but stand when they see you.

“Mindy, Carl.”

“How’s Lucy? Can we see her?” You take a deep breath.

“Lucy was taken into emergency surgery after her heart stopped. There we found internal bleeding, unfortunately…” you have to stop, you’re about to ruin their lives. “Unfortunately her heart stopped again, and we were unable to revive her. She died on the table.” You watch emotions spread over their faces, until they grasp what you said.

“But, but you said she was get, she was getting better.” Mindy says as she falls into her seat, her head in her hands.

“You lied! This is your fault!” Carl yells at you and you back away. You know they need someone to blame.

“Carl, stop.” Mindy grabs his arm and he sits beside her, holding her as they cry. You walk away, and notice Aaron standing in the doorway. You turn and walk swiftly to your office knowing he will follow. You barely make it in the door before turning and crashing into his body as you begin crying.

Loud, ugly sobs fill the room as you cry out for the little girl you grew to love. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Arron soothes you, and rubs his hands through your hair. He moves you to the couch before bringing you even tighter into his arms.

“She was only eight.” You sob. He pulls you back and cups your face.

“What do you need sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. I need, I need you to just hold me. Please.” You stutter.

“Okay, I’ve got you. Let it out.” You sit there for what feels like hours before you finally quiet your sobs and catch your breath.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter out pathetically.

“No honey. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Its my fault.” You whisper.

“No, it’s not. You did nothing wrong. She was sick, you did everything you could. You did everything you could.” He repeats soothing words as he holds you. He knows what you're feeling and knows that nothing will help. He knows the pain you’re feeling and knows better than anyone that you just need to be sad right now. He doesn’t care that you’re missing your reservation. He just holds you.

He just holds you.

——————————————-

Jack whines as he tugs on his dad’s sleeve.

“Daddy it hurts.”

“I know bud. We just have to wait for the doctor.” No sooner do the words leave his mouth that you are strutting into the room panting.

“I heard Jack was in the hospital! Where’s his chart? Who’s his doctor? What happened? Is he okay?” Hotch barely stops you before you trip over your own feet after reaching to grab his chart.

“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart. He fell off his bike. We are waiting for a doctor.

“It hurts daddy.” Jack whines again.

“Okay hang on. Let’s take a look.” You calm down a bit after seeing Jack all in one piece. “Hey bud.” You say as you stand beside him.

“Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah buddy.” You sit in the edge of his bed. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“My leg. It really hurts.” You take a glance at his leg, and instantly know there is nothing you personally can do for him besides give him some minor pain meds.

“Alright sweet boy, I’m going to call a special doctor down here, she is going to take a look at your leg and we will get you all bandaged up okay?”

“Will it stop hurting?” He asks, tears filling his eyes. Your heart shatters. And your eyes meet Aaron’s. He sits on the edge of the bed and grabs his son’s hand. Even though he had been trying to calm you down, you could see the stress and worry brimming through his expressions. You know you will need to talk later but for now you focus on the boy in front of you.

“Yes buddy.” Aaron murmurs as he runs his hand over Jack’s forehead soothingly. You quickly get to work on his pain meds and page both ortho and pediatrics just to be safe.

Ortho gets there first, and the doctor, Sarah Gellar, takes one look at you before knowing exactly who the patient is.

“Hi Jack, I’m Dr. Gellar, I hear you hurt your leg?” He nods sadly and she begins her exam. “Alright Bud, I’m going to try and move your leg a bit, can you tell me when it hurts?” He nods and you grab Aaron’s hand. You don’t see it, but he smiles softly at you as he realizes you’ve gone instinctively parent mode instead of doctor mode. His attention quickly moves back to his son as he cries out in pain.

“Alright bud, alright. I’m sorry.” She stands and calls in a nurse. “I think it’s broken, we’re going to take him for x-ray, and then go from there.” You and Aaron nod and rejoin Jack before walking with him and the nurse to x-ray.

An hour and half later you are sitting in a private room, a chipper Jack is picking out his color for his cast. The pain meds had finally kicked in and he could barely feel the pain in his leg anymore.

“Blue! Or Green! Or orange! I don’t know.” Jack looks to you and Aaron for help and you chuckle.

“I thought you hated orange?” Aaron says.

“I do.” He nods firmly.

“Okay, and blue is your favorite color right?” You say and he nods.

“Blue it is.” Jack says. “Man that was tough.” The nurse laughs, and you lightly tickle Jack’s side. He giggles and begins talking about how excited he is to show everyone his cast. Exhaustion hits him soon after the cast is put on, and you sit with him even after his eyes slip close. Aaron on the other side of the bed.

“When does your shift end?” He asks. Jack should be discharged soon, and Aaron wanted to know if you would go home with them.

“It ended hours ago.” You say absentmindedly, staring down lovingly at Jack.

“What?” You look up at him and furrow your brows.

“You, you stayed here after your shift to, to make sure Jack was okay?” He asks.

“Of course I did. He’s your son Aaron, I love him.” Aaron’s eyes well up. He never imagined he would meet someone that would accept him and love his son so much. He is beyond happy as he reaches over and presses a kiss to your lips. “What was that for?”

“I love you.” You stare at him in shock.

“What?”

“I love you.” Your shock wears off after a minute and you smile and lean over and give him another small peck.

“I love you too.”

——————————————-

“Where is he?” You yell frantically as you run past hospital staff. You know you must look like a crazy woman sprinting down the halls, but you couldn’t care less. You needed to find your husband.

“Dr. Hotchner stop!” The nurse behind you yells but you don’t stop, if anything you push harder to get to the operating rooms. You slid to a stop in front of O.R. 3.

“Aaron.” You whisper out as you pummel through the door, grab a mask and walk through the second door. The surgeon looks up at you and once he realizes who you are his eyes fall with sympathy. Your heart drops at the sight of Aaron. He’s covered in blood, a tube in his mouth. You’re a surgeon, you’ve seen patients like this before.

But this is different.

This is Aaron.

“Y/n you need to get out.” You glare up at one of your closest friends before speaking defiantly.

“No, that’s my husband.” You argue sternly. He sighs, frustrated. “I’m scrubbing in.”

“No, I can’t save your husband if you are in the room, you know that.” He calmly tried to talk you down.

“I can’t lose him. I can’t. Paul, please.” You feel tears slip down your face. Hands grab your arms and begin to tug you back gently.

“Trust me, I’ll do the best I can. I promise.” Your eyes water as you struggle slightly against the hands pulling you back. “I need you to trust m-“

“He, he’s allergic to Amoxicillin. He has at least nine stab wounds across his abdomen. The scar tiss-“ A sob cuts you off. “The scar tissue is still healing. Oh god, please save him.” You let the tears fall.

“I promise I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you Y/n.” You nod in defeat and let the nurse tug you out.

Paul, Dr. Greene, has to wait a few moments to begin working again. The weight settles on his shoulders that his best friend's husband is lying before him and he starts again, fighting for Aaron’s life.

You make your way to the waiting room where you find your husband’s team already waiting. Spencer takes one look at you and is striding to take you in his arms.

“It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” He coos as he brings you to sit with the team. Derek is covered in blood from his attempts at putting pressure on the wound. Penelope sits beside him, a comforting hand on his arm. Emily is pacing, JJ sitting with Rossi.

“What happened?” You choke out.

“An unsub was deteriorating. He knew he was going to die and took as many shots as he could.” Reid explains. “Hotch took a shot to the shoulder and to the abdomen right below his vest. The unsub was shot once in the chest, Hotch’s shot. None of us were close enough to take a shot. He came in the ambulance behind us.” You nod as you take in the words.

As you’re processing, your pager goes off.

“Shit.” You sniffle and pull it out of your pocket to read it. “GSW to the chest. They need a surgeon.” You stand quickly, knowing exactly who this patient had to be. “I gotta go.”

“Bella, is that really a good idea? This man shot your husband.” Rossi asks with uncertainty.

“Which is exactly why I’m going to do everything I can to keep that son of a bitch alive so he can rot in jail.” You walk away determined, you can’t sit around and wait anyways.

You reach OR 1 in record time, scrubbing in with purpose. Your resident stands behind you, scrubbing in as well.

“Are you sure you can do this?” He asks, already having heard about Aaron.

“The other trauma surgeon is Dr. Greene. He’s busy, so that leaves me. I can’t let him die, I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

Four hours later, you are walking back out of the OR, and handing your unconscious patient over to the local police. You strip off your gloves and gown and trudge to the waiting room. You didn’t bother taking a peak in the OR down the hall, already knowing you couldn’t handle the sight of Aaron bloody and bruised again until you knew he was safe.

The team looks up at you when you walk through.

“Son of a bitch is alive, handed him over to police. Any news on Aaron?” You ask impatiently. Spencer shakes his head no and you sag. You find your seat next to him and hold out hope.

You hadn't even thought about calling Jess and Jack yet, but you don’t want to worry them just yet.

What feels like lifetimes but is only forty minutes later, Paul is walking through the doors. You're on your feet before a word leaves his mouth.

“How is he?” You ask, he sighs.

“He coded on the table, twice. But he’s stable now. Both shots were through and through, with minimal damage to his scar tissue. He’ll be sore, and he’s going to hate it, but bed rest for at least a week, and desk work for at least three weeks after that.” You sigh in relief as a weight lifts off your body. You feel as though you’re going to pass out, but Spence is there to catch you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Can I see him? I need to see him.” Paul nods and you rush past him as he shouts the door number. You hear the team behind you as you walk swiftly down the hall.

You push the door to his room open and nearly collapse on the chair next to Aaron’s bed. He’s unconscious, but just the sight of his chest moving up and down and the sound of the heart monitor is enough to soothe you.

He doesn’t wake for hours. Not until after the team is gone for the night.

“Y/n?” The sound of his voice startles you awake and your head shots up from the spot on the edge of his bed.

“Aaron. You’re awake.” You murmur, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “How do you feel?” You ask.

“Sore, but not terrible considering I got shot.”

“That would be the pain meds.” It’s silent for a few moments before you speak again. “Your heart stopped beating twice on the table.” Your whisper, and it hurts just saying the words. He eyes you with sympathy as you begin rubbing your fingers through his dark strands.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“Greene wouldn’t let me scrub in. Probably for the best.“ He nods and you continue sifting your fingers through his hair as his eyes drift shut. “Don’t ever do that to me again okay?” He smiles and scoots to the side of his bed to make room for you.

“I’ll try.” You smile back and climb up next to him, watchful of his injuries. He wraps his good arm around you and you bury your face in his neck.

“I love you.” You whisper. His lips find themselves at your hairline before he whispers the words back.

“I love you too.”

———————————————-

“I need a doctor!” Aaron’s voice rings out in the OR, eyes flying to look at the two of you. You’re breathing heavily as pain flys through your back. Aaron is sweating from running around and you feel like you’re going to collapse.

“I am a doctor.” You grit out.

“Dr. Hotchner! Are you in-?”

“Labor! Yes! Get me a room!” You yell, your voice straining. Your legs are on fire and Aaron is trying to coach you through the pain as you walk back to a private room.

“I’ll get the doctor down here as soon as possible.” The nurse says as she helps you get comfortable.

“Drugs, I need something. Agh!” A contraction hits and you feel like you are being ripped apart.

“Hi Dr, Hotchner, is this dad?”

“Yes.” Aaron answers as you nod.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “You’re only a few centimeters dilated. It’s going to be a little bit, we can get you some of the good stuff, but you’re going to get very uncomfortable Y/n.”

“Hee thanks Laura.” She chuckles and pats the bed.

“You know the drill. I suggest some ice chips. That helped me, and something to squeeze.” You grab Aaron’s hand as another contraction hits and she excuses herself to her other patients. He winced at the squeeze and you apologized.

“Squeeze all you want.” He says and you smile at him, though it appears as more of a grimace. He runs his hand through your hair, and you relax a bit.

Thirty minutes later, Spencer is marching through the hall, finding your room.

“There you are!” He comes in. “Your husband is horrible at giving instructions. I mean he told me about a completely different part of the hospital.” Aaron rolls his eyes as you giggle.

“Good to see you, Spence.”

“You too sis. What did the doctor say?”

“It’s going to be a while. Agh.” You shoot upright when another contraction hits. Aaron’s hand finds its way to your back, he rubs gently as he coaxes you through it. Spencer watches, while unnerved that his sister is in pain, it makes him happy that she found someone like Hotch to take care of her like this.

“Would you mind watching Jack for us?” It was no secret Jack loved his Uncle Spencer, and Spencer him. And Jess needed to get to a late shift at work, so with no one to watch him soon, the awaiting parents didn’t need one more thing to worry about.

“Of course I will. Is he at the house?”

“Yes, thank you Spence. We really appreciate it.” He leaves soon, and you're back to hours of pain without relief.

“I want this baby out of me!” You grunt in frustration. Aaron wipes the sweat from your forehead.

“I know sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”

“M’tired.” Dr. Stevens walks back into the room and she takes one look at you before signing in sympathy.

“Alright Y/n, let’s take another look.” She gets down at the end of the table. “Looks like you’re about ten centimeters, it’s time to push mama.” You look at Aaron in panic.

“I’m not ready to be a mom! What if I’m terrible.”

“You won’t be.” Aaron soothes as the doctors begin preparing for the birth of your daughter.

“How do you know?”

“Because you are already an amazing mother to my son, and soon to our precious baby girl.” You smile, and kiss him quickly before you feel another contraction hit, the most painful yet. You yell out in pain.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, seconds, minutes, hours. You don’t care, you just want the pain to be over with.

“I hate you Hotchner!” You yell out. “You’re never touching me again!” Laura laughs and so does Aaron.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

“She’s crowing! Come on Y/n one more push.” You push as hard as you can.

“I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can Y/n, come on one more.” You grunt as you push before a searing pain, and a cry breaks through the room.

You sag on the bed and sigh in relief. Your head turns around the room in search of the baby, but she is quickly swaddled and placed in your arms.

“She’s beautiful.” Aaron murmurs into your hair as he wraps an arm around you.

“Yeah. She’s perfect.” You press your lips to her forehead. “Jack’s gonna be so excited.” You whisper.

“Of course he is. He’s been asking for a sibling since we got married.” You giggle.

“She needs a name.”

“Are we still good with the one we chose?” He asks. You think about it for a second.

“Maybe a change in the middle name?” He looks down at you quizzically.

* * *

Hours later, your family surrounds you, the team included. They coo over the baby, passing her around. Jack can barely sit still when he gets to hold her for a second time.

“She’s so cute!” He exclaims, you all laugh.

“What’s her name?” JJ finally asks, and you smile, your eyes drooping from exhaustion. Aaron sits beside you and you nod at him.

“Her name is Sophie Diana Hotchner.” Spencer looks between you and Aaron and smiles.

“She would have loved it.” You nod and feel yourself slowly falling asleep. You rest peacefully knowing your baby girl is surrounded by the people who love her.

————————————-

The end :)

Hope you guys liked this one. I loved writing it.

Thanks for reading <3

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds #reader insert #imagine #angst #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #fluff #aaron hotchner #Spencer reid #reid x reader