#NO mentioning of Derek when she greeted the team but we got that jet scene where jj Rossi and Spencer were like yeah I miss him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

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Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

Fighting Crime || A. Hotchner & Reader

Back at it again with another one shot for @ssahotchswife ‘s soft Hotch Saturday! No smut this week sorry folks.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, canon-typical mentions of kidnapping/violence, pregnancy, suggestive content

Word count: 1.7k

You finished your paperwork first, which wasn’t unusual. Gathering up your files, you trekked up the steps and knocked twice on the door to Aaron’s office before letting yourself in.

“This is done,” you said, extending the folder towards him. “And luckily for you, I left out the logs of what exactly occurred in my hotel room between the hours of 12:38AM and--”

“Trust me, my memory is plenty fresh on that.” He smirked up at you.

“JJ and Penelope have called for a celebration of our heroism at the bar tonight,” you informed Aaron, who peeked over your shoulder at the clock hanging on his office wall. It was 4pm. “We can have a couple drinks and still get Jack for dinner. It’ll be good to have some non-work related adult time.” You told him,

“I think that if you refer to the log of what happened in your hotel room at 12:38AM, you’ll find my preferred non work related adult---”

“Aaron!” You cut him off with a laugh, and your smile seemed to relieve some of the tension in his jaw.

“You go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll see what I can do here. Either way, I’ll come pick you up and we can get Jack together.”

“Okay boss,” you smiled, leaving his office to go check on Spencer, who usually finished around the same time as you.

“I’m going to be a little while longer,” he sighs. “Why don’t you go to the bar and grab our booth?” He suggested, and you took his advice.

It had been a long case, but a successful one-- the unsub confessed, and none of the hostages were hurt, so it was one worth celebrating for sure. You walked over to the team’s normal spot, enjoying the warmth of the DC sun on your face. Jimmy, the bartender, spots you as soon as you make your way into the bar.

“Hey, princess!” He calls out to you with a smile.

“Hi Jimmy,” you greet him as you slide into a barstool

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” He asks as he slides you your usual-- a vodka tonic with lime.

“I’m just getting a headstart. The rest of the team will be here soon, so I’m going to grab our booth before it gets crowded.” You explain to him.

“Okay doll, I’ll be by to check on you in a little bit.”

True to his word, Jimmy swung by with another vodka tonic about fifteen minutes later, and JJ walked in shortly afterwards.

“Damn, you beat boy genius!” You congratulated her.

“I know, it has to be a new personal best,” she agrees with a laugh as Jimmy reappears, placing two shots on the table for you both.

“Cheers to a successful case” you smiled, extending your shot glass in her direction. She bit her lip.

“Oh, I’m not drinking tonight, actually,” she tells you.

“You’re pregnant!” You exclaimed, downing your shot.

“How did you know?” She asked, laughing as she passes you her shot.

“Well, I didn’t, but it was a good guess.”

“I’m not really ready to tell the whole team yet.” She tells you shyly, and you’re quick to reassure her.

“Of course, Jayje. They won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you. Now take that, because they’re coming and they need to think I drank it.” She says, gesturing to her shot. You downed it quickly before the rest of the team could make it to the table.

“Ladies, ladies, you started without me?” Derek grinned as he slid into the booth next to JJ.

You were pleasantly surprised to see Aaron slip in next to you. You took his hand and squeezed it in your own before kissing the back of it. “I thought for sure you’d be holed up in your office to avoid this,” you confessed.

“Yeah, well, my girlfriend is a cute drunk,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and taking advantage of the proximity to whisper, “and I caught you drinking for two.”

You and Aaron were coming up on a year of dating, and had told the team a few months back. There was a novelty to being a couple in front of the people you loved most, somehow even more exciting than the sneaking around them, that hadn’t worn off yet. Aaron wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you put a hand on his thigh as Spencer and Emily went to get another round of drinks.

“No one knows yet,” You whispered back to Aaron, but you knew he would keep JJ’s secret. He was good like that.

You attempt to keep up with the flow of conversation, but between the cocktails and the shots, you’re beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, particularly on your empty stomach. Emily and Spencer return and pass you another vodka tonic, and you make a silent determination to nurse this one more slowly. You tilt your chin up towards Aaron, who is listening to Penelope tell Spencer about the new frozen yogurt place that opened up by her apartment.

“You okay?” He asked, lowly, so no one else would hear.

“Yeah,” you smiled back up at him.

“You’re drunk.” He states, chuckling at you.

“Noooo,” you argued, drunkenly. Luckily, Derek saves you from yourself.

“Hotchner, you can’t monopolize her just because she’s your girl now. We all remember who took care of her when she first got here.” He teases Aaron, and you laugh. It was true. Aaron had been hard on you at the beginning, but Morgan took you under his wing. He took good care of you. “Come on pretty thing, we’re dancing.” Derek extends his hand towards you, and you see Emily and Penelope waiting for you as well.

You sat up, untangling yourself from Aaron before giving him a quick peck, grabbing your drink, and practically racing the three of them to the dance floor. It felt like college, in all the best ways. The job was so stressful, and you didn’t let yourself get away from it nearly enough. Throwing your arms up in the air with Emily, letting Morgan catch you when you stumbled, and laughing with Garcia as she brought you another shot of who-knows-what, it felt like the Friday night after you turned in a term paper. Total bliss, fuck the consequences.

“Guys, we have a case. It’s urgent, and it’s bad.” JJ came to pull you all off of the dance floor.

Well, so much for fuck the consequences. You put a hand on Morgan’s wrist, a silent sign for him to support you-- you weren’t even sure if you could make it back to the office without stumbling. He placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the bar, where the team was waiting in the street. You reached for Aaron and linked your arm with his. Even with his support, you stumbled at the brisk pace and the uneven ground of the cobblestones downtown.

“You can’t work like this,” he said once you were back in the elevator at Quantico. He wasn’t judging you or being mean-- but as both your supervisor and your boyfriend, he was concerned. “Maybe Jess can swing by and take you home, you can read Jack his bedtime story and sleep some of this off--” He said, as you all stepped out of the elevator and back into the office.

“Noo, Aaron!” You whined. “I want to fight crime!” You protested, pouting. If there was any doubt that you were drunk before, it was gone now. You heard Emily stifle a laugh from somewhere behind you.

“Hotch, you’re going to send her home just to have her take a nap to sober up and then meet us out there? That doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan argues, but there’s no bite behind it.

“Yeah, plus you need me to help you fight crime,” You add helpfully as Aaron directed you to your desk and all but placed you in your chair.

“It’s a four hour flight. She can sleep on the plane,” JJ suggests as she brings you a cup of coffee, which you sip on gratefully.

You could tell, even in your drunken state, that Aaron was torn, and you felt bad. As your supervisor, he knew he should send you home. As your boyfriend, he would certainly feel better if you were nearby, not to mention the fact that leaving you here meant you’d have to fly commercial to Montana the next morning, not on the safety of the team’s jet. He took a deep breath before making a determination.

“You are going to eat something now, when we brief, and then you are going to sleep on the plane. You will not go into the field or to the crime scene until I say so. You will go straight to the police precinct, talk to no one, and start on the geographic profile with Reid. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” you squeaked out, and the team erupted in giggles.

“Good girl,” he whispered for only you to hear.

45 minutes later, you had all but inhaled the fast food that Reid had brought you, and you were following Aaron out to the jet. You were the first ones on, and Aaron led you over to the couch, foregoing his normal spot for one where you’d be more comfortable sleeping. He pulled your favorite throw blanket out of your go-bag and covered you up, your head in his lap and your legs splayed out over the other end of the couch,

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, and he pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he tells you. “You didn’t know we would be called on another case.”

“I know. That didn’t make it any easier on you, though.”

“You shouldn’t worry about me so much,” he’s quick to correct you.

“Says the man who’s letting me sleep my drunkenness off on an FBI jet so that he doesn’t have to let me out of his sight,” you teased him.

“Well, you wanted to fight crime so badly. How could I say no?” He smiled down at you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”

#soft Hotch Saturday #aaron hotchner #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x reader fic #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

now i’m getting colder || part two

summary: Emily’s been dating you for nearly a year and she’s never been happier—until her past comes to call. Then she’s gone, and Spencer’s left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: (faked) major character death, mentions of / implied sex, swearing, grieving, mentions of drug abuse & addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms

word count: 5.1k

series masterlist || masterlist

The morning after Emily dies, Spencer wakes up to the smell of cooking bacon. He feels groggy and disoriented as he sits up in an unfamiliar bed. It’s not really a new feeling—it happens often enough with the amount of hotels he’s stayed at through work. This bed, though, feels way too nice to be a hotel bed.

He feels around for his glasses, eventually locating them buried under one of the spare pillows. I’ve got to stop falling asleep with these on. Once he can see clearly, he realizes where he is: one of the guest room’s at Rossi’s house.

It had been nearly four in the morning when the jet got back to Quantico. JJ and Hotch had gone home to their families, and Rossi had insisted that everyone else stay with him. “None of us should be alone right now,” he’d said in a voice thick with emotion.

Spencer tries to ignore the migraine he can feel building behind his eyes as he pulls himself out of bed. He doesn’t know how long he was asleep, only that it wasn’t long enough. He follows the smell of cooking food out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. Morgan and Seaver are already awake, chatting quietly at the island while Rossi cooks.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan says, noticing his arrival. He pulls out the chair next to him.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Seaver answers.

Morgan puts a hand on his shoulder when he sits down. “How are you feeling, kid?”

Spencer shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Where’s Garcia and (Y/N)?”

“Garcia was dead asleep when I got up,” he replies. “I’d guess (Y/N)’s sleeping, too.”

“Food’s going to be ready shortly,” Rossi announces.

Seaver looks to Morgan. “Should we wake them up?”

“I think we should at least check on them.” Morgan stands and pats Spencer’s arm. “Come on, kid.”

He trudges back up the stairs after Derek. He nods towards the door to the room you’re staying in before going into the one he’d shared with Garcia.

Spencer opens the door quietly. You’re barely visible from the doorway, huddled under the covers, but from what he can see, he thinks you’re still asleep. He really doesn’t want to wake you—he wishes he was still asleep himself—so he just closes the door again and waits in the hall for Morgan.

Garcia is with him he returns, her sparkly sleep mask pushed up onto her forehead. She hugs him immediately. “Where’s (Y/N)? Is she okay?” she asks when she pulls back.

“Still asleep,” Spencer says. “I didn’t want to wake her because I don’t think she’s been asleep for very long. The pillowcase was still damp.”

“Oh, poor girl,” she whispers. “I can’t imagine how awful this must be for her.”

Morgan puts his arm around her shoulders. “Me either, baby girl. Let’s just let her sleep for now.”

They make their way back downstairs, where Seaver is helping Rossi dish the finished food onto plates. When Spencer tells him you’re still sleeping, Rossi loads one up with everything and puts it to the side for you to eat later.

It’s quiet as everyone eats. The food tastes fantastic, and under different circumstances, Spencer would be delighted to be eating it. But as it is, he can’t even finish his plate.

“Somebody please say something,” Garcia says suddenly. “I can’t take this silence anymore.”

Awkward glances are exchanged across the table until Seaver offers up, “Um, I’m almost done with the academy training. The written test is just a few weeks from now.”

“Yes, good,” Garcia says. “Your test. Tell me all about the test.”

Spencer rubs one of his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. He’s hit the point where he can’t ignore the pain anymore. “I’m gonna go lie down,” he mutters to no one in particular.

Morgan looks up at him when he stands. “You alright, Reid?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” he lies. “Uh, thanks for the food, Rossi.”

Rossi nods in acknowledgement before focusing back on Seaver and Garcia’s conversation, and Spencer shuffles off towards the stairs.

Squinting against the light coming through all the windows, he nearly runs into you in the upstairs hallway. “Oh! You’re awake.”

You look smaller than normal, standing with your arms wrapped around yourself. It’s like you’re trying hide from the world. “Unfortunately,” you murmur.

“Are... are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Your laugh is humorless. “Of course I’m not.”

“Yeah, me... me either,” Spencer admits quietly. You don’t reply, so he keeps talking. “Rossi made breakfast. Well, I guess it’s more like brunch now. He saved a plate for you.”

“Alright.” You start to move past him, but he puts his hand on your arm. “What?”

“Could I hug you?”

You think over it for a bit, then nod.

Spencer doesn’t know if he’s hugging you for your comfort or his own, just that it feels nice. But then he puts a hand on the back of your neck and you draw in a sharp breath, pulling away abruptly.

“Don’t,” you mutter. “Em always did that. Don’t—don’t do that.”

“Sorry, I—I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I won’t do it again.”

You take in a deep breath and brush away the tears that have slipped down your face. “I’m gonna go eat.”

Spencer watches you until you’re out of sight, then returns to his room. He can’t stop himself from rubbing his eyes again. The curtains are already closed, but the room still feels too bright. He deliberately puts his glasses on the bedside table before crawling back under the covers. He pulls one of the pillows over his head to try and block out as much light as possible.

The insides of his elbows itch, and he wonders how he’s supposed to get through this.

---

The funeral is hard.

It’s a nice service, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Each member of the team places a rose on the coffin. You kiss your fingertips before putting yours down, pressing them to the polished wood and barely holding back a sob.

JJ drives you home, and Spencer tags along, not wanting to leave you alone in an empty apartment right after burying your girlfriend. But it turns out to be something he doesn’t have to worry about, because when you open your front door, you’re greeted with a meow.

“Sergio!” you gasp. You immediately drop your bag on the floor and pick him up. “How did you get here, buddy?”

“You know how Penelope and I have been feeding him? We both thought he’d be happier here,” JJ says. “I brought him by this morning, but you had already left. I hope this is okay; I just didn’t want you to have to go to Emily’s apartment if you weren’t ready.”

“It’s more than okay. It’s...” There are tears in your eyes. “Thank you, JJ.”

She smiles softly. “His things are by the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure where you would want them.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure we can find good spots for everything, huh, Sergio?” you coo, turning and heading in that direction.

Spencer exchanges a glance with JJ as they both follow. You’ve barely said anything for the past few days, so hearing you chatter away to a cat in a baby voice is a little disconcerting.

“Um, do you need any help?” he asks. “With Sergio, or with, um, anything?”

“Hm? No, I’m okay.”

Sergio has settled himself over your shoulder and is now staring at him and JJ. He shifts on his feet, feeling oddly unnerved by it. “Why’s he staring at us?” he whispers to her.

“I don’t know, Spence. He’s a cat,” she replies. “That’s just what they do.”

You press the side of your face against Sergio’s body and close your eyes. It’s the most content Spencer’s seen you since he noticed you worrying over Emily a month ago.

“You can go,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” JJ asks. “I don’t mind staying.”

“I’m sure.” But neither of them move, so you open your eyes to look at them. “Guys, I really appreciate all the support. It means a lot. But I also need space. I’ll be fine with Sergio here, I promise.”

“Just as long as you’re sure.” JJ gives you a tight hug. “We’re only a phone call away.”

You nod. “I know. Thank you.”

Spencer hesitates, though. He understands that you need space and privacy to grieve, but he doesn’t know that he should be alone right now.

Your expression softens when you look at him. You gently slide Sergio off your shoulder and onto the table so you can hug him properly. He all but clings to you, turning his head into your neck. It seems to clue JJ into his dilemma, because when you pull away from him, she says, “Why don’t you come visit Henry, Spence? He’d love to see you.”

He sniffles, trying to stop himself from crying. “Yeah, okay.”

He lets JJ lead him out into the hallway. You give him a small smile and a wave before closing the door.

---

Spencer’s never been one to frequent bars. They’re loud and often overcrowded. He doesn’t like the concept of drinking out of a glass that some stranger used the day before. And more often than not, the surfaces—be it a table or the bar itself—feel sticky. It’s just not his scene. But that’s where he’s found himself tonight, two weeks after the funeral. He’s staring down at amber liquid in a glass while his brain is fixated on an entirely different one.

He hasn’t had cravings this bad since Gideon left, and he ended up relapsing that time. He doesn’t want that to happen again. He swirls the glass, watching the ice clink against the sides as he silently debates with himself. Technically, drinking would be considered relapsing, but it’s better than using, right? If it’s between the two....

It’s the guilt that’s driven him here tonight. Guilt over Emily being dead because they didn’t get to her in time. Guilt over not seeing the obvious question, why families, right in front of him, the answer to which would have gotten them to her sooner. But most of all, guilt that he can’t stop craving companionship with his dead friend’s partner. Every time those thoughts come into his head, he feels like he’s betraying Emily.

Spencer feels himself slipping dangerously close to the ledge. So when a stranger sits down next to him, strikes up a conversation, and eventually asks if he’d like to get out of here, Spencer says yes.

It’s not the best decision he’s ever made, but it’s better than the alternative.

An hour later, he’s lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling in the awkward silence that follows a hook-up. The stranger’s name is Ryan, he learned as he slid into the car’s passenger seat. And it was nice—god knows he’s touch-starved—but it was a risky choice. He knows all too well what getting into a stranger’s car can lead to. But he just hadn’t cared. Emily’s dead. They’re supposed to be the best, but they weren’t able to save her. So what’s the point of anything?

When his phone goes off, Spencer quickly scrambles out from under the thin sheet and sorts through the clothes on the floor to find his pants. The display identifies the caller as you. “Hello?”

“Spencer.” Your voice is so quiet, he can barely hear it; he has to turn up the volume on his phone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He starts to gather the rest of his clothing from the bedroom floor.

“I...” Your breath catches, and it’s a while before you speak again. “I can’t sleep. Could you come over?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he answers immediately. “It’ll just—it’ll just take me a little longer than usual to get there. I’m, uh... I’m not at home.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just use your key when you get here.”

He ends the call and looks through the clothes in his arms, making sure he’s got everything.

“Was that them?” Ryan asks from behind him, and Spencer jumps. He’d nearly forgotten about him.

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean,” Spencer says, turning. He has a strange urge to cover himself, and nearly does before reminding himself that he wouldn’t be covering anything the man hasn’t seen already.

“When we were having sex, you were thinking of someone else,” Ryan says. “Was that them on the phone?”

Spencer opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure what to say. Eventually, he mutters, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan says easily. “I only noticed because I was thinking of someone else, too.”

“Oh.”

“Mine’s straight,” he says. “How about yours?”

“Um, she loves someone else.” Spencer’s not sure why he’s telling a stranger this, but it feels good to get it out. So good that if you weren’t waiting on him, he could see himself oversharing and telling Ryan everything. But you are, so he says, “I, uh, have to go. Would you happen to know where the closest Metro station is?”

“Yeah, it’s a few blocks north of here. Just turn left when you leave the building and keep going straight.”

“Thanks.”

Spencer gets dressed quickly, double checks that he has everything he came here with, then leaves with an awkward little wave goodbye. He finds the metro easily; it’s right where Ryan said it was. He stops by his apartment to take a quick shower, then decides to drive his car to your place to get there faster.

At your door, he flips through his keyring to find the right one. As he unlocks and opens it, he knocks lightly on the doorframe in the pattern you’d set ages ago, a signal to let you know that it’s him coming in. The alarm beeps and he silences it by punching in the code, another thing he’s known for years.

After shutting and locking the door behind him, he calls your name softly. There’s no response, so he ventures in, eventually finding you on one of the couches, curled up on your side with Sergio in your arms. You’re staring blankly across the room, but you must be vaguely aware of his presence, because when he touches your leg, it doesn’t startle you. There’s a small trash can full of crumpled up tissues on the floor in front of you, and your eyes are red and puffy.

There’s a bit of space on the end of the couch near your feet, and Spencer takes it. He waits a while, but you don’t say anything, so he speaks first. “Why can’t you sleep?”

The breath you take in wavers with unshed tears. “The bed’s too empty,” you whisper.

Sighing, Spencer runs a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” you ask. “You weren’t at home when I called you, and instead of coming straight here, you stopped at your apartment to shower. You were with someone.”

He doesn’t have a response for that. He didn’t think you would notice, but of course you did. Whether it’s because you’re a profiler, or because you know him too well, he isn’t sure. Either way, it makes him anxious, and he starts worrying the edges of his cardigan between his fingers. “I... I don’t know what to tell you,” he admits.

You finally look at him properly. “Look, I don’t care about you sleeping with someone,” you say. “Just... just don’t say you know what I mean when you actually don’t. It won’t make me feel any better.”

“Okay,” he says quietly.

You squeeze Sergio closer to your chest; surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s not the same as wishing you had someone. Emily is the love of my life. You don’t know what it’s like to have that, and then have it snatched away.”

Spencer bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything else. He wants to explain, to tell you that even while someone had their lips on his tonight, he’d felt incredibly lonely, and that it had only gotten worse afterward. And he absolutely should not tell you that he thinks he does know what you mean. He thinks he’s felt something similar to what you’ve just described, watching you with Emily the past few months. But you buried her. To compare that to him loving someone who doesn’t reciprocate is insensitive, to say the very least.

So he does what he always did before you came along and helped him open up: he bottles it up and shoves it down inside.

You look away from him, and after a few more silent moments, he hears your breath catch in your throat. “Was,” you say, voice cracking.

“What?”

“Emily... Emily was the love of my life,” you correct quietly.

“Don’t do that,” he says sharply, without thinking.

Your eyes fly back to him and hurt crosses your face. “Spence.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I just meant, you don’t have to do that. Not with me, at least.”

You don’t respond, just look back at the wall again, and god damn it, he can’t stand to watch you stare blankly at it anymore. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe we could watch a movie,” he suggests.

“I don’t care.”

Spencer grimaces. Loss of interest or pleasure in most or all normal activities. A sign of depression. Of course, you’re grieving the loss of your partner. This type of depression is to be expected; it isn’t clinical. But he still feels uneasy seeing you like this.

“Well, I’m going to put something on,” he says, if only to keep the apartment from being silent.

“Knock yourself out,” you mutter. Then you tilt your head down, pressing your forehead into Sergio’s fur.

He takes the remote off the coffee table and flips through the channels until he lands on Discovery. Right now it looks like they’re showing Mythbusters reruns. He’d probably like it more if he knew less about physics and chemistry, but it’s interesting enough to keep him occupied.

You surprise him when the next episode starts by quietly asking what he thinks the outcome of the planned experiments are going to be. Eager to have something to do, he launches into an explanation. You murmur an occasional, “uh-huh”, but he doesn’t think you’re actually listening. You’ve still got that blank look on your face, but at least it’s focused on the TV instead of the wall. He suspects you just want to hear someone talk, to break the silence that’s been permeating your apartment since the funeral.

The affirmations stop after a while, and he looks over to see that you’ve finally fallen asleep. He stands up and Sergio lifts his head, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Stay there,” Spencer whispers as firmly as he can, afraid that the cat leaving will wake you.

He looks around until he finds a blanket to put over you, then settles down on the other couch with a second one. Neither the couch or the blanket are anywhere near long enough for him to sleep comfortably, but he doesn’t want you to wake up alone.

---

They had to practically drag you out to the movie tonight.

Things have been up and down since you came back to work, a week after everyone else did. You have good days and bad days. Today has been a bad day. You’d tried to just go home, but seeing that you were in a dark place, Spencer had insisted you come out with them.

“It’s unnecessary,” Garcia says as the five of you trail out of the theater. “There was too much blood and gore and ew.”

“Garcia, it’s a slasher film,” Spencer says, amused. “How do you do a slasher film without violence?”

“You imply it.”

“Baby, the movie is called Slice 6,” Morgan says. “What were you expecting?”

“A refreshing beverage with a twist of comedy. I’m gonna have nightmares for a week,” she complains.

“With everything that we do and see on a daily basis, that got to you?” Seaver asks.

“Listen, newb, you may be all Sigourney Weaver ass-kicking tough, which is awesome, but the mystical mavens of innocence like myself jump at things that go bump in the night.”

“Why are you worried? I’m sure that Morgan will protect you. As long as he’s not jumping out of his chair like a prepubescent schoolgirl,” Spencer says, making no effort to hide his laugh.

Morgan rolls his eyes. “The only reason I jumped is ‘cause you guys woke me up.”

Garcia puts her arm through his. “How could you sleep during that?”

“Easy. You drag me out after a twelve hour workday, for what? You’re telling me that girl didn’t know that the unsub was waiting for her upstairs? Come on, now.”

“Villain,” Spencer corrects.

“What?”

“In movies, unsubs are called villains.”

Morgan barely holds back a snort. “My bad.”

Spencer looks to his other side. You haven’t said anything at all; you’re just staring at the ground as you walk. In an effort to bring you into the conversation, he asks, “D’you wanna know why horror movies are so successful?”

You glance at him, but Morgan’s the one who answers. “Why’s that, genius?”

“They prey on our instinctual need to survive. In tribal days, a woman’s scream would signal danger, and the men would return from hunting to protect their pack. That’s why it’s always the women and not the men who fall victim to the bogeyman,” he explains.

“Well, that’s not the only reason,” you say quietly. “It’s no secret the film industry is sexist.”

“That, too,” he agrees, just happy you’ve said something.

Garcia smiles affectionately. “Count on you, Reid, to break a movie down to science.”

“My favorite thing about horror movies is the suspense factor,” Seaver says, playfully shifting her voice to sound intense.

“Ah, the ticking clock,” Spencer replies.

“The helpless victim walks through the dark, shadows reaching out to get her,” she continues.

He’s got a smile on his face now as he plays along. “A sudden noise draws her attention. Is someone there, or is it just in her head?”

“Still, it’s totally unrealistic,” Garcia interrupts. “No one should be walking through a dark alley by themselves at night.”

Derek clears his throat, feigning offense. “Hello?”

“Ah. No one should be walking through a dark alley without a Derek Morgan by their side,” she corrects. Morgan chuckles in approval.

“But the best part of a horror movie?” Spencer asks, not done with the conversation. “You never know when the end is gonna come.”

Everyone splits up when they reach the parking lot, heading to their own cars. Morgan is driving Garcia, and you offer to drive Spencer home. But before you start the car, you ask, “Will you stay over tonight?”

It’s not really unexpected. He knows you’ve been struggling to sleep alone since the first night he stayed on your couch. He’s done it a few more times since then, and you’ve slept on his couch every now and then as well, when you reach the point where you’re absolutely exhausted and can’t take it anymore. You’re understandably lonely, but he suspects you’re also scared of Doyle returning, if the way you double check your front door, windows and alarm before bed is anything to go by.

“Of course,” he answers quietly.

You stop by his place on the way so he can pick up some clothes and a toothbrush. When he walks into your apartment, he starts to put his things down on the couch, but you take his wrist in your hand and pull him towards the bedroom.

His heart skips a beat. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“You’ve woken up with back and knee pain every time you’ve stayed on the couch. It’s too small for you. This bed is easily big enough for both of us. We’re adults; we can share it.”

“Uh, alright. Th—thanks,” he stutters.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you say. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

The bathroom door clicks shut softly behind you, leaving Spencer alone to take in his surroundings. He’s been in your bedroom before, of course, but it feels different this time. He can tell what side of the bed you sleep on by the personal effects on one of the bedside tables; he sets down his things on the opposite one. Once the shower has started and he’s sure you won’t be coming back in, he gets changed into his pajamas.

As he pulls back the bedcovers, he tries not to think about how Emily was the one doing this just a few months ago. And he especially tries not the think about what the two of you undoubtedly got up to in this bed, and what your face must look like when you—

Stop that right now, he scolds himself. And there’s that guilt and betrayal again, making his chest feel hollow. He leaves the room to brush his teeth at the kitchen sink (he doesn’t want to bother you or rush your shower), and splashes some cold water on his face after to try and pull himself together.

He’s settled down with a book by the time you come out of the bathroom, your hair wet and the scent of your bath products clinging to your skin. “Uh, how was your shower?” he asks awkwardly, feeling out of place in your bed.

“It was fine.” You plug in your phone to charge and get into bed. You turn off your bedside lamp and lay down on your side facing him, apparently ready to sleep right away. Spencer doesn’t want to keep you up, so he marks his place in the book and turns off the lamp on his side. As soon as he’s adjusted to a comfortable position, you speak.

“Would it be okay if I slept close to you?” you ask in a whisper. Your voice wavers when you continue, “I miss being close to someone.”

Spencer couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. He nods before realizing you can’t see him in the dark. “Yeah, sure.”

You scoot towards him and curl up next to his body, your forehead touching his shoulder and legs pressed against his side. He tries not to tense up so you won’t think he’s uncomfortable with it, because it’s very much the opposite. He’s always liked your touch, and right now your skin is still warm from the shower and you smell so nice.

You fall asleep quickly, your breathing becoming slow and even. It’s the fastest you’ve fallen asleep in weeks. He’s just about drifted off himself when you shift, startling him back awake by moving closer in your sleep. One of your hands settles on his chest and your legs straighten out, one of them slipping between his.

Slowly, hesitantly, he moves the arm closest to you, putting it around your shoulders and resting his hand on your back. You don’t stir, so he closes his eyes again. And if he lets go of the guilt for just a little while and allows himself to pretend that you’ve moved in your sleep to hold onto him because you love him back? Well. You don’t need to know that.

---

It takes ten weeks, but the team finally has Doyle in custody. Morgan’s in the interrogation room with him, but is interrupted when everyone is told to gather at the roundtable. Spencer’s one of the first ones in, followed by Garcia and you. The rest of the team isn’t far behind.

“You get anywhere with Doyle?” he asks Morgan.

“Doyle doesn’t think Gerace has the guts to take him on.”

“But that’s definitely Gerace on the tape,” Garcia says.

Hotch enters the room, looking much different than the last time they saw him, sporting a beard and loose, casual clothing.

“Welcome back,” Morgan says, a bit of surprise coloring his tone.

“Thanks. Everybody have a seat,” Hotch instructs.

Morgan stays standing. “Why? What’s going on? Everything all right?”

Hotch crosses his arms and looks at the table as he begins to speak. “Several months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her. And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?” you choke out.

Spencer can’t process this; it doesn’t make any sense. “But we buried her.”

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision,” Hotch says. “If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan asks, voice shaking with emotion. “Yeah, I got issues.”

“I’ll say,” you agree. But before either of you can continue, you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind you.

---

Ten weeks. Seventy days. One thousand, six hundred and eighty hours. None of it went by without Emily thinking of you.

Ten weeks, seventy days, one thousand, six hundred and eighty hours had passed by painfully slowly as she waited for the call.

Every time her phone had rung in Paris, she answered it with bated breath, hoping this was the one, the call that meant she could come back to her home, her team. Her family. You.

Unfortunately, it also comes with the news that Declan is in danger.

The glass doors to the BAU don’t feel the same as she walks through them. None of the building does. She had expected to it to feel the way it always had. Warm, full of life, where she belonged. But tonight, it just feels cold.

Through the blinds, she can see Hotch talking to the team, presumably revealing the truth about her death. As she gets closer, she can hear voices.

“... anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” Hotch.

“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues.” Morgan.

“I’ll say.” You.

She stops in the doorway, and everyone turns to face her.

“Oh, my god,” Garcia whispers.

Everyone’s looking at her, but Emily only has eyes for you.

You’re staring back at her, mouth hanging open slightly, tears slipping out of your eyes and down your cheeks. There’s silence until you suddenly push back your chair and stand. Emily drops her bag to the floor just before you slam into her, nearly knocking her over. You cling to her, and she clings back.

Then she feels it. She feels the warmth and life, the sense of belonging.

Here, with you in her arms, she’s finally home.

---------------

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hxneyandespressx · 3 years

Text

if i were a man (i’d be the man)

summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content

word count: 6.2k

content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide

a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”

☆。*。☆。

It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.

Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.

“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.

“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.

“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.

“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.

After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.

As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.

“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”

“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.

“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.

“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”

The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.

“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.

“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”

“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.

“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said.

“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.

“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.

“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked.

“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.

“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.

“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion.

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ.

“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group.

“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion.

“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said.

JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.

“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call.

“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.

“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.

“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer

“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said.

“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said.

Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia.

“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.

“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”

“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.

To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist.

“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.

“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked.

“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files.

“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.

“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad.

“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.

After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about.

The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.

“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.

“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap.

JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.

The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.

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A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman.

“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman.

“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.

“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room.

Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub.

“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant.

“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.

“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group.

“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”

“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”

“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say.

“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said.

“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained.

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out.

“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said.

“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.

“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted.

“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had.

“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.

With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward.

“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked.

“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.

“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.

“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”

“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained.

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”

“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.

“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked.

“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”

“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected.

“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said.

“The stressor?” Hotch asked.

“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”

“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained.

“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said.

“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said.

“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”

“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek.

“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement.

“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.

“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.

“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said.

“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically.

“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings.

“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question.

“But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated.

It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning.

Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.

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Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina.

Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.

Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and

Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location.

“Hotchner.”

“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans.

“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.

“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning.

“You reading a book? What’s the title?”

“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”

“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated.

“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.

“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded.

“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked.

“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker.

“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied.

“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down.

“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline.

“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun.

“I try my best.”

“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question.

“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said.

“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation.

“I have a son.”

“How often do you see him?”

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack.

“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.

“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone.

“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked.

“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained.

“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.

“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained.

“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”

“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said.

“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room.

“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence.

“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.

“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”

After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub.

“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said.

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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other.

“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”

“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said.

“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels.

“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”

“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”

“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology.

“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room.

“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood.

“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”

“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen.

“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.

“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked.

“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.

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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck.

The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case.

“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”

“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”

“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “

“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.

JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps.

“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked.

“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.

“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.

“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.

“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity.

The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub.

“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man.

“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence.

“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation.

JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room.

“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct.

“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in.

Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down.

JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life.

“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss.

“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.

Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other.

“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown.

“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl.

More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery.

“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it.

“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”

“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue.

Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story.

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @jemilyology / @pumpkin-stars / @lgbtbau / @drinkingcroissants / @abbyprentiss / @pen3mily / @morcias / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @notsosmexy / @rxcklessly-bratty / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years

Text

Derek Morgan x Reader

Request: You live in the small town where the team is called to a case and because it’s such a small town, there are no hotels and the team bunkers at your home, which leads to your parents finding out about you and Derek are dating.

// Anon request: Hi I was wondering if you could do a Derek Morgan x reader. Where the reader comes form a very small town where the team goes on a case (readers dad is the sheriff) Emphasis on the small town, there’s no hotels, so the team stays at readers childhood home. The readers parents find out that she’s dating Morgan and are mad (small town mind) and just kind of angsty for awhile because she vowed not to speak to her parents until they apologized. ///

A/N: I don’t know if there was enough angst like you wanted, but I hope you like it! Thank you for requesting. :) xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural: (I’m only up to season 2 at the moment, so please don’t give requests with spoilers)***

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER (why is there so few gifs of derek morgan ugh)

You and the BAU team were currently on the jet on your way to a case. Your hometown to be specific. You were surprised when JJ entered the briefing room about a case in your hometown. Your father, being the sheriff was the one who called the BAU to come in. You didn’t even know these things had been happening back home. As soon as the briefing was over, you called your father, wondering why he never told you and his answer was that he didn’t want to bother you out in that big city with your new fancy job.

To say the least, your parents were upset you decided to move to Washington, D.C to pursue a career with the FBI. They’d expected you to stay in your small hometown, continuing with the family business. However, that was never your plan and as soon as you were 18, you gathered your things and headed for D.C. Knowing how they felt about you leaving for the big city and away from small town living, you didn’t tell them about your new love interest, Derek Morgan. You knew it would only fuel the fire.

So, as you sat next to Derek on the jet you warned him. “I haven’t told my parents about us yet.” He looked up at you, surprised. His family knew all about you, you’d flew to Chicago with him multiple times to visit them and they’d welcomed you with open arms. “Why not? y/n we’ve been dating for over 6 months now.”

Your attention goes to the case file in your hand, “I just haven’t.” You sigh and then turn your attention back to him, “They aren’t like your family, Derek… they wanted me to marry someone I went to high school with and stay in the same city the rest of my life, living and working just like they did. I went against their wishes and they’ve never really forgave me for it. So, to find out I met someone in the city, someone from Chicago and not from my little town, will throw them into a hissy fit.”

Derek was a little upset you’d kept him a secret for this long, considering he told his mother about you the day he’d set eyes on you. He’d told her, “Momma, that’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He knew he couldn’t be upset with you though. Your family was different than his and it wasn’t your fault. He reaches over and takes your hand in his, “Then we’ll tell them when you’re ready. Okay?”

You smile, grateful, “Thank you.” Leaning over you press a soft kiss to his lips before turning your attention back to the case file. Before the jet landed, you and Derek spoke to the team about your relationship, asking them to please not mention your relationship to your family and they agreed, no one would speak a word. Knowing it was a small town and there were no hotels nearby, your father offered the house when you spoke to him. The team would fit comfortably in your family’s large farmhouse and it would be no trouble.You and the team headed to your home first to drop off your things before heading out to the small station on main street.

Your mother was all smiles as she greeted you all at the door, “Welcome! Welcome! Please come in.”

“Hi, mama.” You say, dropping your bags and giving her a hug.

She squeezed you tight in return, “Been a while, sweet girl.” She pulls back, hands on your shoulders as she gives you a look over, “I see you’ve put on a little weight! And you’ve dyed your hair,” She flicks at your hair on your shoulder. There’s an awkward silence among the team as they send glances at each other. That was not the way they expected your mother to be.

Derek was quick to your rescue, holding out his hand to your mother, “Derek Morgan, ma’am. Thank you for hosting us. Your home is beautiful.” He gives her his one and only smile.

Your mother nods, shaking his hand, “It will be nice to have folks around. All my babies have flew the coop!”

The rest of the team introduce themselves and then your mother shows everyone to their rooms. You were staying in your old room, which your mother never redecorated. Spencer and Derek were in one room, just across from yours, Rossi and Hotch in another and Emily and JJ in the one next to yours. Your mother headed back downstairs to continue her work in the garden, while everyone decided they’d change out of their nice slacks and into more comfortable attire for this small town.

Derek came up behind you as you stood at your bed, pulling out an outfit and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head rested on your shoulder, whispering, “The pink ponies are just adorable..”

You groan, your head falling back against his chest, hands on his forearms, “I mean, she didn’t even bother to change my room after I left.”

Derek laughs in your ear, “You know, I’m right across the hall from you. I can sneak into your room tonight..” He presses a kiss on the spot under your ear, slowly swaying you side to side.

You turn around to face him, his arms still wrapped around you, “Sounds tempting but... My dad sleeps light.”

He nods, “Then we’ll just have to be quiet.” He whispers against your lips before kissing you.

After a long day, Hotch ended the day early so you guys could get some good rest and get started early tomorrow morning. When you arrived back at your house, your mother already had the table set and food on the table. Everyone was starving at the sight, realizing none of you had time to have lunch today.

“Looks great mama.” You say, taking a seat. Your eyes meet Derek’s and you pat the seat next to you. He takes the seat next to you, unfolding his napkin and putting it in his lap. Everyone else takes their seat at the table and begin fixing your plates. Your mom hands Derek green beans (obviously I don’t know if he likes them or not) and begins to put a spoonful on his plate before you stop her, “He doesn’t like green beans mama.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She pulls her hand back and then hands you the bowl, “You guys must all be pretty close?” She asks as she takes her seat.

“We see each other as family, Mrs. y/l/n.” Hotch says, “We’re all close, more family than co-workers.”

She nods, “Well, that’s wonderful.” She can’t help but eye you and Derek throughout dinner. You thought you had been subtle but obviously not. Your mother saw the lingering glances and winks, even the hand holding under the table. She could not help but feel disgusted. You with a city boy and not someone you grew up around, someone she knew well. She didn’t want to make a scene at the dinner table, but as soon as everyone was finished, she pulled you and your father into the kitchen to help clean up.

“You and that…. That man, Derrien? Is that his name?” Your mother begins. “His name is Derek. And what about me and him?” You ask, not realizing she’d seen everything. You place the dishes in the sink.

“Derek. Whatever. Are you two together?”

You slowly place the last plate in the sink, “Why would you ask that?”

Your dad looks confused and looks at your mother before she quickly spits out, “I saw the glances at each other and the winks and not to mention the hand holding underneath my table!”

“Oh mama, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” You sigh, turning around to face her.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, young woman.” She tosses the towel on the counter before putting her hands on her hips. Your dad stands next to your mother, “Tell your mother the truth. Are you and that city boy dating?”

Your face is red with anger, “that city boy’s name is Derek, daddy. What does it matter if he’s a city boy?” You snap, eyes narrowed at both.

“You watch that tone young lady.” He warns.

“I cannot believe you!” Your mother huffs, shaking her head, “First you leave us high and dry for that big city and now you find you a big shot city boy?! There are plenty of eligible men in this town for you! One’s you’ve grown up with!”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to be with them! All of them are assholes, who don’t know how to treat a woman and think all women belong in the kitchen, waiting on them hand and foot. I didn’t want that life. I wanted my own life, not one you and daddy wanted me to have.”

“Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that,” You father states, pointing a finger at you, as if you were a teenager.

You shake your head, “I can’t believe you two. This is the exact reason I left this place the first chance I got. I’m not your little girl that you can control anymore. I am a grown ass woman. I’m happy. Derek makes me happy. Why can’t that be enough for you two?” Your eyes begin to fill with tears, “We’re solving this case and will be leaving as soon as we do. This will be the last time I come home. Not unless you two apologize and realize I’m a grown woman, not your little girl.” You then storm out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where the rest of the team sat. They’d heard the whole thing. You were humiliated that your boss and team members, including your boyfriend had heard everything. You quickly wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” and storm out of the room.

Derek is quick to reach out for you from his seat at the table, “Y/n…” But you’d already zoomed passed him and out the door.

There was not any place to go, but you decided your old spot in the barn would be a fine place. You sat yourself on the haystack and begin sobbing. This was what you were afraid of. Your parents being jerks, as usual.

After you stormed out the door, Derek stood from his place at the table and was about to follow you out, when your parents entered the dining room. “My own family treats your daughter better than you. That is something you should be ashamed of.” He shakes his head and throws his napkin on the table before heading out after you.

He watches your shoulders shake with sobs as he walks up to you, “Baby girl…” His nickname he only called Penelope. Until you came along. You and Penelope were his girls.

You wiped your eyes with your sleeves, “Derek..”

He shakes his head, taking a seat next to you, “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m so proud of you.” His finger hooks under your chin to make you look at him, “You are strong and so independent. That’s what I love about you.”

You sniffle, “I’m still going to apologize for my parents. They think there’s no other men out there except for the ones in this small town.”

Derek shakes his head, “It’s okay.” His thumb wipes a stray tear, “You handled that situation very well. Hotch was impressed.”

“I can’t wait to solve this case and go home.” You groan, laying your head on his shoulder.

He kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back, “Me too, baby girl. But you know you shouldn’t leave your family like this.”

“I am not forgiving them.” You say, pulling from his shoulder to look at him, “Not after what they said about you and how they’ve treated me.”

He nods, “I understand that, but baby girl. I lost my dad and I know how it is to lose someone with unresolved issues. It eats at you like wildfire.”

“Unless they apologize first, I am not forgiving them.” Your voice is stern and Derek knows, you’re stubborn. There’s no need to fight this.

Finally, he sighs, “Okay. Well this hay is poking at my rear; can we please go in?”

You laugh and nod, “yes we can.”

The next few days were filled with tension, at home and at the station. You didn’t speak a word to your mom or dad, ignoring them completely. They didn’t speak to you either. After 3 long days the case was solved, and it was time to go home.

Derek followed you down the stairs, y’all’s bags in his hands. Your parents were standing at the door, bidding goodbye to the team. You gave a small nod, before walking out the door.

“Wait, y/n?” Your mother stops you on the porch.

“I’ll be in the car.” Derek says, beginning to walk passed you, but your mom stops him as well. Your dad steps beside your mother, hand on her lower back, “I believe we owe both of you apologies.”

You glance at Derek then at them, “Okay.”

Your mother nods, “We should have never been so strict on you… and expected you to follow in our footsteps. It was wrong of us to put that on you.”

“It was. You made my life a living hell.”

Your mother sadly nods, “I know that now. I’m so very sorry. We both are.” She glances at your father who holds his hand out to Derek, “I can see the happiness you bring my daughter. Seeing you two the few days in the station working the case and here at home, there’s a brightness in my daughter I haven’t seen before.”

Derek gives him a firm handshake, “Your daughter makes me the happiest guy in the world. Even on our worst days.”

Your father nods, “That’s all me and her mother could have hoped for.” Your mother puts her hand on your arm, “Please come back and visit? We sure miss you..”

“Maybe you guys come visit me this time?” You ask. Your mother sighs and nods, “Fine.” She engulfs you in a hug, “I love you sweetie. And I am sorry again.”

“I love you too.” You pull away from her hug and hug your dad.

“I’m very proud of your work, darling. You picked the right career.” Your father smiles, “Proud of both of y’alls work.” He says looking at Derek.

“Well.. we better get going. We have a jet to catch.” You say pulling away from them. You two bid goodbye and head to the SUV where the rest of the team waits.

Sitting next to Derek on the jet’s couch, you motion to his bookbag in his lap that he was going through.

“What?” He asks.

You motion again to the bookbag, “Move.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, moving it from his lap and putting the small pillow on his lap, “Come here.” He holds his arm out for you and you lay your head in his lap. His hands immediately go to your hair and begin massaging your scalp.

You hum and close your eyes, “I love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I love you, too.”

677 notes · View notes

myheartrevealedocs · 3 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 19: True Night (S3E10)

Warnings: murder, swearing, graphic injuries, mentions of psychotic break, gang references

Ch 18 | Ch 20

~ ~ ~

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, trying to push Spencer’s hand out of the direction of the cashier. They’d decided to go out to lunch together on his day off. Lydia had just passed her gun qualifications test, which meant that soon enough she’d be back in the field and Spencer wanted to celebrate. “You can’t pay again!”

“You just finished graduate school and I work a fulltime job,” he argued. “I’m paying.”

The woman behind the counter laughed slightly and grabbed Spencer’s credit card before Lydia could push it aside again. “I gotta agree with him, hun. Little things like lunches add up when you’re trying to pay off student debt.”

“But what of my ‘Spencer’ debt?” she replied.

The woman just giggled. “You two are adorable, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Lydia smiled at her and ran off to find a table, leaving Spencer to mumble an awkward ‘thank you’ before following her. He wanted to appreciate the compliment more, but it threw him for a loop. He’d recently been thinking a lot about how he and Lydia acted around others and, more importantly, the team.

Spencer never imagined being a part of such a strong relationship. He’d never thought he’d be so comfortable with another person that they’d tease each other at a cafe or that strangers would find their behavior adorable. And after his first date with Lydia, he knew he’d do anything to get to this point.

Not telling the team was an attempt to protect his fragile heart. It had already gone against his common sense by falling for Lydia in the first place. But now… he loved her so much. He would let her break his heart into a million pieces, then leave it on the floor for the team to step on as they walked past. He would happily let the whole world know if it meant he could hold her hand on the jet. He might even consider letting the Bureau fire him for keeping secrets from them, just so long as the two of them were together.

But was it fair to ask of her? After she spent so long protecting their secret for his sake?

“What’s up, Spencer?” Lydia asked. He’d just reached the table, but had yet to sit down with her, instead looking out the window with unwavering concentration.

“Hm…?” he responded, still not processing her concern, so she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into his seat.

“Tell me what’s got you distracted,” she demanded.

His eyes went from the window, to her, to the window again, trying to make up his mind.

“I can’t stand this secrecy thing!” he finally blurted out. “I thought it’d be fine because I’m a great liar and- Why are you laughing?!”

She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, but it wasn’t exactly easy to play off a laugh. “Sorry. I just think you’re so modest,” she replied, sarcastically. “Please, continue though. You’re a ‘great liar’ and…”

He was clearly not expecting this reaction from her. “And… And well, I just… don’t want to lie about this anymore,” he admitted. “I want to be able to talk to you in the office without raising suspicions. And I want to hug you and hold your hand without worrying that someone we know will see us.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“...okay?” He blinked. “You aren’t upset that I’m the one to-?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re okay with us just-?”

“Yep.”

Wow… he really hadn’t expected this reaction from her.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Spencer, I honestly don’t care. But are you sure? Because having a girlfriend is going to open you up to a lot of teasing from the team,” she warned him.

He waved an arm dismissively. “I can take them.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching him relax back into his normal self. It’s silly, she thought, the things that make him anxious. But she was relieved it wasn't anything serious. The thing with Spencer was sometimes the little things seemed huge and the big things he thought he could handle alone.

“So, we’re going to do this?” he confirmed.

“We’ll start with Hotch,” she reasoned. “And see what sort of agreements we’d have to make to be in an office relationship. Then, we can decide how to announce it to the rest of the team.”

He agreed, a smile spreading across his features. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I won’t be able to wait that long. Even after all the time we’ve already spent pretending there was nothing between us. I feel like I’m going to see you in the bullpen one day and just kiss you in front of everyone.”

She rolled her eyes jokingly. “You’ll be fine. If I see you going in for a kiss I’ll dodge.”

The image of her ducking away from his affection in the middle of the office had them both cracking up and they had to recover quickly so they wouldn’t get kicked out of the place.

~ ~ ~

They had planned on telling Hotch Friday morning, but Lydia ended up being called into the office for a case before that could happen. And it happened to be so severe that she was on a flight to Los Angeles before she really knew what had happened.

“You should have listened to me,” Spencer argued as Morgan, Lydia, and him got out of the SUV and onto the street. As she walked, her arm hit the holster on her belt multiple times, not used to having the bulky object at her hip.

“It wouldn’t have saved that much time, Reid,” Morgan snapped. “Let it go.”

“The interchange between the 405 and the 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world.”

Morgan took in a large breath. “Why do you know that?!” he accused.

“It’s a government report.”

Lydia burst out laughing.

“So, what?” Morgan cried.

“So, you work for the government,” Reid continued. “What, you don’t read the reports?”

As they argued, the three of them walked underneath the tape and onto the scene itself.

“On traffic patterns in a city 2500 miles from where I live?”

“2295 miles-”

“Don’t make me smack you in front of all these people.”

“Derek, you know not to estimate around Reid,” Lydia teased. “He doesn’t understand anything but the specifics.”

“I understand th-”

“I’m Brady, LAPD,” a man said, cutting Spencer off from defending himself.

“Derek Morgan,” the older man greeted, shaking his hand, then pointing to the other two. “Dr. Reid and Dr. Ambers. The rest of the team is in an SUV behind us.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic,” Reid snapped, looking at Morgan before realizing now wasn’t the time. “Uh, so you had two more victims last night?”

“They were discovered a little after 3:30 by a cleaning crew finishing up in the building,” Brady explained.

“So that’s seven victims over the past two weeks,” Morgan said and the detective nodded.

“Bodies are in the alley. What’s left of them.”

“Same victimology?” Spencer asked as Lydia stepped past them, pulling out a pair of gloves.

All they could determine about the kill method was that their unsub was using a bladed weapon. Something long, like a machete or sword, which wasn’t very common. During the flight, they’d determined they were looking for one guy, suffering from a psychotic break. It was the only way to explain the overkill, the locations, and the weapon. But it was hard to look at the victims and imagine one guy could have done this.

Both men were mutilated. Their chests had been sliced through multiple times, making their torsos look almost hollow. One’s arm was multiple feet from the body. The other had almost been separated at the waist.

Blood was splattered across the buildings surrounding them and it flowed from the bodies into a nearby sewer grate. At this point, both men were practically dried up.

“What do you see?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind her.

“Same type of victim. It’s either gang retaliation or someone who wants to clean up the streets.”

“That’s too organized,” he argued. “Unsubs that are going through psychotic breaks don’t plan like that.”

“Well, clearly there’s a pattern here,” she argued, pointing to their hoodies, tattoos, chains, and clothing. “He’s not killing businessmen or waitresses or anything in between. He’s got vengeance on his mind.”

~ ~ ~

“Not good,” Lydia mumbled as she walked onto the next scene the following day.

The unsub had actually gone to the house of the gang leader, Glen Hill. There were 6 bodies, each more brutal than the last.

She stepped around the scene carefully, the blood pooling around the victims like auras.

“T.S.K.?” Hotch asked, pointing to the graffitied letters on the walls.

“Twenty-third street killers,” Brady informed them.

Rossi picked up a gun. “Looks like they tried to fight back.”

“They failed,” Spencer said.

It was hard to differentiate the blood with the spray paint splattered against the walls, but Lydia did her best to analyze the drops and determine where the victims had been standing when they were hit.

“So, what do we do now?” the detective demanded.

“We’re already doing it,” Rossi informed him.

“An unsub in a psychotic rage stands out,” Spencer explained.

“Agent Jareau’s got the media playing the press conference every hour,” Hotch continued. “She’s putting the profile out to the public. Someone in this man’s world knows he’s in crisis. Hopefully, they'll recognize the description.”

“Hotch,” Emily called from the next room. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Lydia was on his tail, following Prentiss out back, where a small trail of blood was leading from the door, to the side gate, then disappearing on the sidewalk. From the marks in the grass, it looked like a body had been dragged. Not only were they looking at 6 murders, but a kidnapping as well.

~ ~ ~

By that afternoon, they were bringing a suspect into custody. A man named Jon McHale. He was a graphic novelist, who’d been attacked by Glen Hill’s gang a few months ago, resulting in the death of his girlfriend.

A few people had shown up to the station to explain situations they’d been in with him over the past few days. His manager was concerned for his health, saying that he kept calling Vickie, his dead girlfriend. Some of his fans had watched him flip out when he showed up to a book signing. And one dude hit him with his car when he ran out into the middle of the road and when the man went to check if he was okay, Jon almost choked him to death.

As they took him into the station, Lydia helped Hotch and Rossi bag items from his apartment to be used as evidence. He had all sorts of violent storyboards, some which reflected their crime scenes to a T. There wasn’t a doubt in their minds that they’d found their guy.

“Can you go get the mugshot of Glen Hill?” Hotch asked Emily as they got back to the station.

“Yeah,” she replied, dropping the boxes of drawings on a nearby desk and disappearing.

Hotch turned on her. “Lydia, did Gideon talk to you about speaking to unsubs undergoing a psychotic break?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I want you running point with him. Command his presence like Frank. Keep him on track. We’ll get answers.”

Hotch left to explain the plan to the detective, leaving her to prepare herself for the interview. Gideon warned her that it was difficult to talk to unsubs like Jonny. His trauma was causing him to do things he’d otherwise be disgusted by. Before all of this, he was a good person and without the mental fracturing, he still would be. But the only way to get answers from him would be to put him under complete stress.

Lydia handed her weapon to Spencer, giving him a small wave goodbye. He looked nervous, but she didn’t dwell on it. Her only concern now was speaking with Jonny.

She led in the group, dropping the mug shot of Glen Hill that Emily had printed in front of the young man, then sitting across from him at the table. “Hello, Jonny. My name’s Lydia,” she said, curtly. “Do you know who that is?”

He shook his head. “Why does this have anything to do with me?”

“That’s Glen Hill,” Hotch said to her left.

Rossi took the right. “He’s missing.”

“You think I know where he is?” Jonny demanded.

Emily walked in, setting one of the boxes from his apartment down in front of Lydia.

“Six months ago, he and his gang victimized you and your girlfriend, right?” Brady asked.

Jonny’s head dashed wildly between everyone in the room, trying to keep track of them. “What?”

Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jonny, look at me.”

“They attacked you on the street,” Emily continued, grabbing his attention once more.

“No.”

“And you couldn’t identify any of them after you got out of the hospital,” Brady said.

“Look at me,” Lydia insisted once more. She knew that the feeling of being surrounded was freaking him out enough. With everyone making accusations, if she made it seem like he wasn’t allowed to answer them, it would drive him even more insane. “Don’t worry about him.”

“This is crazy,” he said, looking at the photos in front of him. She could hear his handcuffs rustling against the table. He was trying to break away from her.

“I believe you're suffering from a post-traumatic form of a psychotic break,” Hotch told him, setting his hands on the table to lean over him and feel imposing.

“Psychotic?”

“And you have been for weeks.”

“Come on.”

“It’s possible you don’t even know,” Rossi said, once again forcing Jonny to turn fully around and look at him.

“How could I not know?”

Emily set down a storyboard in front of him. It showed two figures, mutilated in an alleyway, their killer standing above them with a sword. The whole scene was black and white, except for the pure red blood that ran down the gutters and towards the sidewalk.

“That’s a page from something I’m working on,” he told them.

“We know,” Lydia said, letting Emily drop another picture in front of him, this time an above shot from the scene she’d arrived on yesterday. “This is a murder scene from two nights ago.” She pointed between the bodies, both laid out in the same fashion. “Are you seeing any similarities?”

“You were there,” Rossi claimed. “Yesterday. I talked to you.”

“We have photos of you,” Emily continued.

He shook his head, pointing at the picture with his free hand. “Wait. This is real?”

“These are members of the twenty-third street killers,” Brady said. “Glen Hill’s gang.”

Emily continued setting out photos, one of Hill’s house, the other a matching drawing of McHale’s.

“And there were six gang members murdered in that house last night,” Hotch explained.

“No. No, this can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“This house belongs to Glen Hill. There was a trail of blood leading out the back door. We believe that you took Mr. Hill with you when you left.”

“These are just drawing-- my imagination,” Jonny argued.

Rossi sighed. “Severe PTSD is not uncommon for victims of violent crimes.”

“Victims?”

“You’re bleeding,” Emily noticed, pointing to a spot on the left side of his ribcage.

“It looks like a grazing gunshot wound,” Rossi accused

Hotch leaned over him threateningly. “Did they shoot you last night?”

“Look, stop it! I would know if I’d been… a victim!”

“Do you remember being in the hospital?”

“I was never-” The sound of his handcuffs got louder as his stress level increased. He was pulling away from them.

Rossi threw down a file in front of him, flipping through it as he talked. “That’s your medical report. They cut you open, Mr. McHale! You were nearly eviscerated.” He lifted up the boy's shirt to reveal a long scar through his abdomen. “They said it was a miracle you lived.”

“Miracle?” he demanded. “You think living was a miracle?”

He was breaking. Put some more pressure on him, and they’d get their answers. Hotch and Rossi took over, throwing questions around back and forth.

“All your drawings reflect actual crime scenes. All of them but one.”

“Where is this crime scene, Jonny?”

“Is this Glen Hill?”

“Where is he? Where’s Glen Hill?”

“Jonny, look at me!” Lydia insisted one more time.

“No!”

At his scream, Jonny finally ripped his right arm away from the table, splintering the bar the handcuffs were attached too. Noticing his escape, the whole room jumped to subdue him, but not fast enough. He got in a solid swing across Lydia’s face, knocking her back, her hands covering her cheek protectively.

“No! No!” he kept yelling. “You don’t know what’s out there! No one knows about the night!”

Hotch and Brady got ahold of Jonny’s arms, Emily pushing him back into the chair.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Jonny.”

“It’s okay, son,” Rossi tried to calm him. “It’s okay.”

They’d done it. He was remembering what had happened to him, what he’d done. But it didn’t make watching him any easier.

“Lydia,” Hotch called, not turning away from their suspect, “are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She stepped up, standing over Jonny, so that he could see her blotchy cheek and come to terms with what he’d done. “Jonny, you aren’t healthy.”

His eyes scanned her face, before he shut them tightly and started to sob. “I couldn’t help her.” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He was talking about Vickie, his girlfriend. “They made me watch.”

“I can help you,” Rossi said. “If we can tell the court that you told us where Glen Hill is-”

“They made me watch!”

“I know. I know. They’re animals.”

“You were sick,” Hotch told him. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

The memory of his confrontation with Glen Hill was too much for Jonny. He could barely speak.

“Where’s Glen Hill, Jonny?”

He sobbed, his body shaking for several minutes, before he broke, giving the address to the group. Emily dashed outside to find Glen Hill, but they all knew he was dead. There was no way Jonny would have been able to stop himself from completing his revenge.

Brady started to recuff Jonny, taking him out of the interrogation room and into a holding cell, Hotch on his tail. Rossi stayed behind to help Lydia pack up all the evidence they’d used during the interview.

“You’re good,” he complimented. “Sorry you got the short end of the stick today.”

“It’s fine.” Lydia rubbed her jaw, sorely. “I deserved it.”

“For what?”

She shrugged, grabbing the box and starting to leave. “I know we had to break him. But no one deserves to relive traumatic events against their will.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s not really fair to profile someone who can’t profile you back, hm?” Then, she stepped outside and came face to face with Spencer.

“What did he do to you?” Spencer demanded, his hand already reaching for her swelling cheek.

“It’s fine,” she breezed, hearing Rossi exit the room behind her. “He had a mean right hook. I antagonized him.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” he said, leaving before she could argue.

“Maybe it isn’t fair,” Rossi mumbled from behind her. “But you make it so easy.”

Lydia just laughed at him.

~ ~ ~

“You found one of Jonny McHale’s books?” Lydia asked as she sat across from Spencer on the jet. She still had an ice pack pressed against her cheek at his insistence and the whole side of her face was starting to feel numb.

He looked up from his graphic novel. “Yeah! It’s called Blue. It’s about a girl who thinks she’s a real human being, right? But it turns out she’s a robot that was built by her uncle.”

“So it’s Pinocchio,” JJ reasoned as she passed the two of them.

“Yeah, it is like Pinocchio,” he laughed. “Only, uh, it’s set in a high school in outer space.”

She made an amused face and kept going, sitting with Rossi and Emily.

Spencer turned back to her, that special sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose? As a matter of fact, Pinocchio wasn’t even the first character of his to feature a large nose- How’s your cheek doing?”

She chuckled, having seen his sudden change in topic from a mile away. “It’s fine. It will probably be nice and swollen by the time we get back.” She pulled the ice pack away to reveal a splotchy pink and purple mess. “What’s your analysis, doctor?”

He leaned forward, examining it teasingly. “Hm… Looks like quite the injury. You must be very brave, doctor.”

They laughed until they heard Morgan walking past, talking irritably into his phone. “Just leave it alone until I get there. Hey. Hey! Hard-head! Don’t make me spank you when I get back.”

Spencer, who had already stuck his nose back into the graphic novel, immediately spoke up so that the person on the other line could hear him. “Don’t listen to him, Garcia. He’s all talk.”

Instinctively, Morgan smacked him across the back of the head and kept walking.

“Ow!” Spencer cried over Lydia’s laughs. “Stop laughing! He just hit me.”

Lydia handed him the ice pack. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “Why don’t you put some ice on it and it will feel better?”

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Once they were back at headquarters, Lydia told Spencer it was now or never. Nodding her head, she ran up the catwalk to Hotch’s office, slipping inside casually.

“Lydia? How may I help you?”

She held up a finger and they stood there silently until Spencer also walked through the door, shutting it behind him awkwardly.

“Reid? What’s this about?”

Lydia stood in front of his desk, clasping her hands behind her back. “This is where we tell you something you already know and you act surprised about it.”

“Got it.”

“...We’re dating.”

“I’m shocked,” he responded, completely deadpanned.

“Is there some kind of office relationship… whatever that we need to fill out?”

“You don’t work in this office, Lydia, so not exactly. But you do work for the Bureau which means they have to know. I’ll do some research into it and get back to you. My best guess is Garcia will have to put it into our system and you might be required to agree to certain terms. At worst, they might have someone come in to question you and determine whether or not your relationship will affect your ability to work together, but I doubt it, seeing as Lydia isn’t an agent.”

“Thank you,” Lydia breathed. “I was worried this would be a big mess.”

“I think Reid here was ten times more nervous.”

She smirked at her abnormally silent boyfriend. He was completely frozen, staring at Hotch with a pale face. “I believe he was.”

“I should warn you,” Hotch continued, “that if this had been going on for much longer than two weeks, you could get in trouble for hiding pertinent information from the Bureau.”

“Two weeks, then,” Lydia said.

“Two weeks,” Spencer repeated.

“Good.” Hotch looked down at the file on his desk. There was silence. Then, he furled his eyebrow, glancing back up at the two of them. “You’re free to go.”

“Right,” Spencer squeaked, grabbing Lydia’s hand and pulling her to the door, as if Hotch would change his mind if they stayed any longer. “Going.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @arthurmorrgans, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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livsinpjs · 4 years

Text

Believe in the Green Light (pt 2) the pursuing

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” - F. Scott. Fitzgerald

The BAU team is called into Pasadena, California after the deaths of three lead to an investigation revolving around Gatsby, a new drug that hit the market at a dead sprint. When a raid on a house reveals the creator of the drug, a young man no one even knew was missing, Jason Gideon and co. find themselves involved in a case bigger than they originally thought.

It was cold. It was always cold though, so that was no surprise. His arms ached in their position raised above his head. His wrists were rubbed raw from his attempts at freedom from his shackles he had long since abandoned, his forearms crusted with old blood. If he closed his eyes, he could picture he was in a dungeon from one of the books his mother had read to him as a child. But the not so pleasant fantasy fell away every time his eyes settled on the lab equipment strewn throughout his concrete prison.

He had long since figured out Their intentions with him. He was a student at CalTech with a doctorate in chemistry already tucked under his belt among other degrees. He had no family to look for him and he was an easy target when it came to physically apprehending victims, so there was no use wallowing and questioning ‘why me?’ He knew why. They wanted drugs. More specifically, they wanted him to make drugs. Obviously, he knew right away when he awoke and his eyes first landed on the lab equipment 6 weeks 2 days and 14 hours ago. That didn’t mean he was eager to cooperate.

The first time he refused, They denied him food and water. After a couple days, he relented. Desperate to survive, he caved and created the first batch of Gatsby. After that, every time he refused, two big and burly men came down into his prison to beat him within an inch of his life, leaving him bruised and bleeding with a “We’ll let you rethink your answer.” A few more days with no food and water and he would relent yet again. After going through that cycle a few times, he stopped refusing. He felt sick with himself for giving in so easily. He wanted to become an FBI agent, yet here he was, aiding Them.

He wondered, dejectedly, what the Academy thought when he didn’t show up. Probably that he had chickened out. He was sure he wasn’t the first person to enroll and then never show. He thought about Agent Gideon. He and Agent Gideon had become close in a fairly brief time. He had encouraged him and his ambitions. What did he think about him now? Was he worried? Disappointed? If only he knew where he was...

He shifted his position on the cold, hard floor trying to sit comfortably even though he knew it was useless. His chains clinked against the wall, his head throbbed and spun along with the little movement that he made. He knew he was in a dangerous position. Being this uncoordinated and forced to make drugs without proper care spelled loads of trouble. Mostly for himself.

One wrong move and he could kill himself in the process. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. On several occasions the dark thoughts he naively assumed he had gotten rid of long ago would pop up again while he was working. He never let himself dwell on them for long though, he would push the thoughts to the back of his mind like he used to and think of his mother. Who would be there for her if he was gone? (Though he couldn’t be of much help to her from where he was currently.) He thought of the stories he and his mother would read together, and then his mind would helpfully wander through the many things his eidetic memory stored for him. Before he knew it They would thrust a cup of water and food at him, (which he would devour quickly and greedily) and he would be roughly escorted back to the wall and chained up yet again. They would leave him in the cold while they did who knows what with the monster he created.

Another thing to add to the ever growing list of awfulness that was his current circumstance, would be the fact that ever since he had been brought here, he had been on the verge of a meltdown. It’s not easy to calm yourself when you’re being held against your will, or stim when you’re chained to a wall. Everything was either too much or too little. He could do nothing to ease the ache in his chest. Even the stimming he could do was quickly shut down by Them. The frantic tapping of his foot or the insistent keen that would every once in a while escape his lips was deemed annoying by Them. He found himself forcing everything down; It was exhausting. He was surprised that he had been able to keep masking for so long.

In his haze, though, he had been hit with an idea so abruptly that he inhaled and choked on his own saliva. Yet once he was finished hacking and had caught his breath, a smile had been drawn to his face. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have quickly deduced that the idea was a stupid one. So many things could go wrong, or innocent people could get hurt, and really, if it did work, it wouldn’t help him in the slightest. But all he was focused on was the fact that he was in control of making the drug, and he was the only one there to make it for Them.

It was during this time, when he was rethinking what he had done, that They walked in.

He referred to them as Them because, well, he knew absolutely nothing about them. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew Maria from his philosophy class. He didn’t know if she was the reason he was here or if it was just a coincidence that her family was a part of some kind of drug cartel. But he also didn’t know Maria that well. The only thing he knew was that she went to the same school as him and they shared a class together. So he just found himself referring to them as, well, Them.

Two men, Maria’s father and brother, (he presumed by the similarities in their features) and Maria entered the room. The father gave him a disappointed look and for a brief moment, he felt ashamed of himself for disappointing the man. He quickly shoved the feeling off though. The brother looked like he wanted to rip his throat out, and he shrunk in on himself a bit at the glare he received. Maria’s face was expressionless.

“Ya got guts, I’ll grant you that much.” The father spoke to him as if reprimanding a child, instead of a captive. “Poisonin’ the latest batch of Gatsby like that.” He shook his head. “What I don’t get is how you thought doin’ so would help. You have no idea what we’re doin’ with it, or if we’re takin’ it ourselves. Even still, if we had taken it and had died, how would you escape? You would more quickly die of dehydration than be found by the athourites. And what would you accomplish by killin’ our clientele, eh? Other than puttin’ an even bigger target on your back for my men to aim at as they teach you once again, what happens when you defy us. Luckily for us, we have, erhm.. drug testers, if you will, who make sure the batch is clean before sending it out. Unluckily for you, my son’s friend happened to be testing the drug this time and has, unfortunately, passed away.”

The brother seemed to grow even angrier at the mention of his friend and stepped forward menacingly. The only thing keeping him from carrying out his wishes was Maria, holding his arm.

“So,” The father bent down to get on his level. “Would you care to explain to me just what exactly you thought you were goin’ to accomplish?”

He was terrified. He mentally cursed himself for making such an error in judgment. He registered, vaguely, that he had actually killed one of them. He couldn’t identify the feeling that engulfed him. The only thing on his mind at the time had been revenge. How stupid did he have to be to go through with something so idiotic? His eyes immediately snapped to the side, avoiding the man’s powerful gaze. He gulped painfully. The father sighed after a moment of silence, the only thing he could think of as his head spun was that the man’s breath smelled horrible; garlic and tobacco.

“Very well” The man stood, and his knees gave audible pops, “Go ahead and bring ‘em in.” The brother quickly exited the room and was soon being accompanied by two familiar men. They looked at him a little too eagerly as Maria and her father went for the door. “Make sure you keep him alive, we still need him after all.”

With that, Spencer Reid was left alone with three men who had only one thing on their minds. To cause him unimaginable pain.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The team was gathered together on the jet; even Penelope Garcia was on their video feed, streaming from Quantico, Virginia. The technical analyst and the rest of their team had just finished going through their files one last time together before their Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner gave them their assignments.

“All right, once we land, Gideon and Morgan, you go to the crime scene and see if they’ve turned up any new information, then meet up with the M.E. Garcia, look into McCarthy’s background and criminal record, see if our Unsub could be someone he has bad blood with, and JJ, you’re with me at the precinct. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, so go ahead and get comfortable.”

The team split off from one another, Garcia logging out and the rest going to separate areas of the jet.

Gideon sat alone, gazing out the window before pulling out his PDA. No recent emails. He returned the device to his pocket and shut his eyes, wanting to relax as much as possible before this case inevitably took up all of their time.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Agents Gideon and Morgan arrived at the crime scene at around 5:00 p.m. There, they were greeted by local LEOs; Gideon went straight to analyzing the scene, leaving Derek to speak with them.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and, that over there,” He pauses, indicating to the older man, “Is SSA Jason Gideon.”

“Detective Sanders, glad you could make it out here.” The men shook hands before Sanders continued. “My men and I received the call early this morning ‘round 7:00 a.m. CSI should be finished processing the crime scene by tomorrow.” Derek nodded, turning to see Gideon talk absently to an agent as his eyes expertly scanned the abandoned playground.

“What happened with the mugging four years ago? It says that they caught the guy, Gillian Murphy, and he’s still serving time."

“Well, the Arnold’s were visitin’ the park after Mr. Arnold had gotten off of work, Murphy attempted to mug the family and, after not getting the reaction he wanted, shot and killed them. He fled the scene and was found shortly after trying to sell the victims’ belongings at a local pawn shop.”

“What makes you think the two crimes are related?”

“Honestly, I don’t see any connection, but the mayor’s sister lives ‘round here and he insisted that we bring in the FBI ‘cause the crimes were both committed at this here park.”

Morgan nodded, shifting his stance to look over the detective’s shoulder to see that Gideon had moved to talk with CSI agents. “All right, let us know if you uncover any connections.”

Gideon had begun to walk back the way they had come, so Morgan matched his stride beside him as they moved towards their FBI sanctioned SUV.

“Find out anything new?” Morgan asked the older man as they stepped up to the car, Morgan taking the driver’s seat with Gideon in the passenger seat.

Gideon shook his head, “CSI found nothing out of the ordinary, a few beer cans and marijuana by the play structure. Looks like the victims were confronted by our Unsub. McCarthy met the Unsub a few feet away, leaving the Nooks next to the structure. What about you?”

“Nothing that points in the direction of these cases being linked. Sounds to me like it was more of an excuse to get us down here in the first place.” Morgan spoke dryly as he drove toward the Coronors’ office.

“Well, we’re here now, no use in gripping about it.” Gideon said wisely. Derek watched Gideon pull out his PDA, look at it, and then put it away, from the corner of his eye.

“You expecting something?”

“..Hmm? Ah.. no I was just checking my email..” Gideon said vaguely as he watched the road in front of him as they made their way to the Coroner's Office.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

At the precinct, Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner sat in front of his third possible witness since he had arrived at the precinct with JJ.

While JJ set up the room Pasadena P.D. had indicated to her, (setting up their evidence board and attempting to start a preliminary profile) Aaron got to work on interviewing people who had been in contact with Gatsby. The witness in front of him, Abigail Cooper, a disgruntled teenager with blonde hair and an obvious distaste for law enforcement, leaned back in her chair, arms across her chest and an attempt at an intimidating glare strewn across her face.

Aaron quickly profiled the young girl. A look of distrust in her eyes and a defensive posture hidden by an attempt at nonchalance. A negative past with law enforcement, or men, or both. Her eyes glanced quickly over to the window and she had sat herself closest to the door. Aaron had to show this girl that he meant her no harm and that she would not be punished anymore than the charges she faced for possession of drugs and alcohol underage.

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” He began in a calm voice, looking her in the eye.

“FBI? Why’s the FBI here? I didn’t do anything that serious!” Abigail spoke incredulously, sitting up slightly with a questioning look on her face.

“I am here to ask you a few questions. Nothing more.” Aaron assured her, “Last night, there was a murder. Three men were killed and it seems that the crime may have a connection to a drug. A drug that you were found in possession of. Gatsby.”

“So? I didn’t kill nobody! Just because I had some with me doesn’t mean I’m a killer.” She tightened her crossed arms, which had been slowly falling due to the shock of being in the presence of an agent of the FBI.

“I never said you were.” Aaron said placating, “I am here because you may be able to help us find the person who did kill them.” He watched her shoulders relax slightly at that, her eyes softening slightly.

“Uh.. well.. all right..” She sat up, letting her arms fall to her sides. “What do you want to know?”

“I need to know any information you have on the person who sold Gatsby to you. A name, a phone number, an address that you met at, anything could be of help.”

A look of disappointment flashed across Abigail’s face. “I don’t know. No one does, really. People say that they find you. I was.. Uh.. drinking with some friends.. when he came up to us. Told us about this cool new drug. We’d heard about it around school and thought ‘why not’ Ya know? We paid him and he left and that was it.”

Aaron frowned but didn’t voice his disappointment. “Where was this?”

“Oh! Uh.. we were behind the Denny’s downtown, lots of people go there to dick around.”

Aaron nodded at her. “Thank you for your time.” He got up and went to leave the room to inform JJ when Abigail spoke up.

“Agent Hotchner?” Aaron turned around to face her, giving her his attention once more. “I.. um.. I hope you get the guy..” She said hesitantly.

“You were a big help Abigail.” He said, then he left to find JJ.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Hotchner had just finished filling Jennifer in when the phone on the table in their conference room went off.

“It’s Garcia. Hotchner, you’ve got me and JJ. What do you have?”

“Hello my pretties! All right, so, James McCarthy, 21, single and lives alone. He was arrested and sent to a juvenile detention center when he was 16 for shoplifting and possession of drugs and alcohol.” Garcia reported.

“Did he have any grievances with any of the other kids?” JJ asked, looking at the evidence board.

“No, actually he was very well behaved. He didn’t get into any trouble and it looks like he was even helpful when others were upset or angry. The workers there were really proud with the progress he made.”

“All right, thanks Garcia.” Hotch said with his arms crossed, looking down at the receiver.

“Of course! Garcia Out!” The line cut out.

A few minutes later, Gideon and Morgan walked in from the Coroners’ Office looking glum.

“Looks like all our victims had ingested Gatsby in the last 24 hours.” Gideon began, “Other than that, nothing new. All the victims died from their gunshot wounds and then were shot again post-mortem, some more than once.”

Morgan continued. “Also, there doesn’t look to be any correlation to these murders and the murders from four years ago.”

JJ sighed, still looking over the board. “It looks like we’ve got less to work with than we started with.”

“But it seems that this drug, Gatsby, is in the center of it.” Morgan said. “Multiple Gatsby related deaths, and now three murders involving the drug? Doesn’t sound like much of a coincidence to me.”

“It seems that the people dealing these drugs go out of their way to find people to sell it to, instead of having people go to them.” Hotch informed the rest of the team on his interview with Abigail Cooper.

“All right, so how do we find them?” JJ asked.

The team sat in thought for a moment. Hotch looked at JJ and she could see the idea pop into his head.

“I know exactly how.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

He was enraged.

He stood by the corner store, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. His foot tapping erratically. Her funeral was tomorrow. Her funeral . He stood and he tapped his foot. And he waited. And he waited..

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

That night, a man walked up to another, jittery man. He proposed something to him and beckoned him into the alley next to where they were standing.

Later, 10 shots rang out loud into the night.

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3| pt 4|

#liv's fics #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds #jennifer jj jareau #derek morgan #jason gideon #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #angst #pt 2

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