#jennifer jareau comfort

[demonicbaby666]

heya if u have the time could I request a jj x female bau member reader with hurt/comfort? I was thinking something along the lines of jj helping the reader bandage their own wounds. Thanks!

Bandages

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: comfort/fluff

Words: 2k+

Warnings: mentions of neck wound, brief mentioning of blood

Summary: JJ helps you clean your wounds and looks after you after sustaining injuries in the field.

A/n: I hope this lives up to your expectations! It’s nothing too angsty and I tried to keep the mentions of blood and gore to a minimum and focus on the comfort side of stuff <3

The rain. It’s cold on your face. Raindrops roll down your cheeks, trickling down from your hair down to your chin. It’s refreshing, if not a little uncomfortable. It’s nice, though, to feel the roars of the sky fall upon your skin and coat it with a shimmer reflected only on the side of your face from the light inside.

Hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into a full chest, contrastingly warmer to your back, that is now soaking wet having collected each droplet of rain as though it were a rare coin worth millions.

“What are you doing out here?” JJ asks. Her hand rests over the cotton bandage sticking to your neck, “You can’t get this wet.”

Without meaning to, you flinch, then relax back into the body of the woman you know will always catch you.

“Hey,” you whisper your reply, turning in the warm embrace, making sure not to break away from it or tempt JJ to loosen her grip in any way. You’d never tire of looking into those azure eyes, feeling your feet tingle under their warm gaze. A gaze filled now with worry and wonder.

“Hey,” she scans you over quickly, not quick enough that you don’t notice, but you let it slip, “ready to come in?”

The rain begs you to stay with each pitter and each patter against concrete. You want to stay, yet it’s something else inside you that says no. It’s the feeling of knowing something that feels this good, in excess, can do more harm than not, like candy.

JJ hadn’t likely meant to instil this message or the sudden revelation you were having when simply asking whether you were ready to come back in. Nonetheless, she had, and it wasn’t unwelcome. JJ had a way of doing that, secretly, telepathically or unknowingly. She broke down walls you didn’t you had up, and you loved her for it.

“Yes,” you nod and offer a smile.

Her fingers intertwine between your own as she returns your smile with one of her own, and though it’s pitiful and lacks the energy of her usual smiles, you appreciate it.

She pulls the both of you into the warmth of the house, and you close your eyes for a few moments, feeling the blood in your veins warm up, and the goosebumps on your arms settle. When you open your eyes, you see JJ scanning your body again, spending extra time on your soaked bandages and healing wounds that didn’t require covering.

JJ’s headstrong, she always has been, she’d call it resilience, whereas some would say stubborn, but either way, you’d never minded it when it was so easy to see past it. With her looking you over, you know she wants to help, mainly because it had killed her to know she couldn’t prevent what had happened.

“They’re wet,” you point out, following her gaze, “Help me change them?”

To say she was beaming at the opportunity would be inaccurate, but her smile changes from sorrowful to hopeful. It feels more genuine, and your heart swells at the sight of it.

Since the attack happened, JJ watched you change with each passing day. She saw your smile fade and your energy level dissipate. So, to hear you wanted to take care of yourself, with her help or even for her benefit, is a victory.

“I’ll get the stuff,” she begins to walk away, stopping momentarily before turning back around with a sudden purpose and longing in her eyes, “I could help you shower before we change the dressings. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable if we get all that dried blood and grub off you.”

She’s not wrong. A shower would help. It’s the fact you’d have to come face-to-face with the damage done that's prevented you from doing so. And for some reason, anything you should be doing to look after yourself seemed the worst thing imaginable.

You look at her, the word ‘no’ dancing on your lips, but seeing the hope in her eyes makes you feel like saying it would just about shatter your heart.

“A shower couldn’t hurt,” you run your hands through your wet wire-like hair, “I guess I need one…”

She chuckles, and it’s like hearing pure sunshine. The brush of bright yellow splattered across a blacked-out canvas. For the first time in days, you feel that the grin on your face is genuine. It’s something you want more and more of; it’s been bubbling under the surface for days - that feeling of hopelessness - and that laugh has saved you, provided you that droplet of hope that you can cling to.

You take her hand, and things seem that little bit brighter, that little bit easier, and you fall that little bit more in love with the woman pulling you upstairs.

Honey. It was one of the first things you noticed about JJ; she smelt like honey and vanilla. Luckily it was something that, despite a year of dating, had yet to change. It was three months into the relationship when you realised it was her hair that smelt like honey because of her shampoo and her body like vanilla because of her body wash. Body wash that she was now gently and ritualistically lathering all over your body.

There’s something innately intimate about showering with someone, especially when anything sexual did not enter that small steamy cubicle, when wandering hands only had the purpose of cleaning and when love-filled eyes only looked into one another with unspoken words of affection and encouragement.

JJ’s hands run through your hair, distributing honey-scented goodness through each lock, then return to massage your scalp. There was nothing you could do to prevent yourself from closing your eyes and falling back into her for the second time that night. Hot water streams down the front of your body as the smell of JJ engulfs you, and you let her surround you, contently humming.

“You okay, baby?” JJ asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She laughs, and god, that laugh. The piping-hot water pales compared to the sheer heat that radiates and coats your body when you hear that laugh.

After the shower, JJ walks you to the bed, insisting you get into your pyjamas and lay comfortably in bed. Once convinced, she makes her way back to the bathroom, and you listen, whilst changing, to her gathering the needed bits and bobs.

When she returns, you bite your bottom lip, trying not to laugh. Instead, you smile in awe as JJ walks towards you, trying to carry a whole hospital's worth of medical supplies. You dare not say anything because, after all, it’s JJ, and you know she wants nothing more than to be thorough.

She holds the disinfectant spray in her hand as though she is scared of it, and she thinks she's doing an excellent job of masking her hesitance. To her credit, she probably is. It's only that you've known her so long you can notice her moving ever so slightly slower and gripping into the bottle tight enough for a while tinge to appear over her knuckles.

“Ready?” the question, you have a feeling, isn't only aimed your way. Nevertheless, you nod along with her, and she studies her hand.

“Ready.”

JJ sits beside you on the edge of the bed and starts removing your gauze bandages, prioritising the one on your neck. It’s unmistakable. She looks at the wound, battling her own intuition knowing what will happen. She looks anyway, her eyes sadden, and her shoulders slump.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell her, placing your water-wrinkled hand atop hers, “It could have been any of us.”

“But it was you,” tears start to form in her eyes. She continues, “And I couldn’t protect you.”

Her tears seconds ago were born of sadness, yet now with her jaw clenched and her hand balled into a fist, it is evident sadness is no longer the predominant emotion.

“I should have been faster; I should have figured things out quicker; I should have-”

You cut her off, and she thanks you as her body relaxes into the sudden but welcome kiss. After you're sure her tears are dried, and her jaw is relaxed, you finish the kiss with one final peck and sigh against her lips.

“I'm okay now, and that's what matters,” you lean your furrowed forehead to JJ’s, “you found me. You saved me, JJ.”

“I’m supposed to be the one looking after you, and here you are trying to make me feel better.” she sniffles as she finally smiles again. It's a welcome sight.

You bring your hands to her tear-stained cheeks, taking your time to admire - despite having just been crying - how beautiful she is. When she sniffles again and shoots you a curious look, your heart swells, and your head drops to the side in awe.

“We take care of each other,” and by no means did JJ make looking after her an easy task, but you took the challenge every time, “and we always will.”

Prying one hand away from her face, you wriggle your pinky in front of her. She rolls her eyes but smiles, lets out an amused huff of air from her nose, and then somewhat playfully grapples onto your finger with her own.

“Always,” she says with sureness in her eyes and a sudden straightening of her spine before kissing your forehead. Her gaze lowers back to your neck, “let's finally change these.”

The hesitance previously displayed was nowhere to be seen. Now JJ moved with confidence and a kind of expertise. She pulls the gauze plaster entirely off your neck, rubbing away any leftover tacky bits left from the glue; they seem to bother her more than they bother you as she starts waging war on them, trying and failing not to rub a little harder than necessary.

She then sprays the disinfectant around your stitches, cleaning the surrounding area. Only twice, the cotton pad brushed against your wound, causing you to grimace, but you smile the second you see JJ grimace along with you. The look on her face is priceless and causes both of you to burst out laughing.

“I love you,” you whisper once the laughter dies down, “thank you.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you worry, but you see why her attention is elsewhere. Her bottom lip is wedged between her teeth, and she’s squinting at the numbers on the plastic packaging in her hands.

“It's this way,” you try to show her how to open it, and it's funny because she could do this sort of thing with her eyes closed, yet she slaps your hand away and continues to read. It's endearing, really, that she wants to make sure she's doing everything by the book, but the air is beginning the irritate your wound, and if it's not covered in two seconds, you might just-

“There!” JJ proudly exclaims, peeling the plastic layers away and covering up your wound, “Oh, and I love you too, and you're welcome.”

She's happy. She's proud. And though you were close to ripping your stitches out, it seems unimportant because JJ’s taking care of you, and more importantly, she wants to. So, you push your impatience aside and close your eyes as she cleans your other wounds and redresses them with the utmost care, and by the time she’s finished, you feel yourself floating off the bed in a tranquil state.

JJ sneaks away to dispose of all the old bandages and scarlet-coated swabs. When she returns, she slips onto the bed behind you, slides her legs beside your thighs and wraps her arms around your waist. Her nose nuzzles into your hair, and though you don’t see, you feel her lips curl as she smells her shampoo in your wet hair. Closing your eyes, you settle back into her, brushing your cheeks to her forehead and breathing in honey, letting the scent calm and wash over your whole body.

“I could fall asleep like this.” You mumble into her hair.

“I don’t think my back would thank you for it if you do,” JJ banters, her warm breath tickling your neck and warming your cheeks with a crimson hue, “but I’d do it for you.”

Pulling yourself forward and turning in JJ’s arms, you place a feather-light kiss on her soft lips. She responds quickly, tightening her grip and pulling you closer so there is no remaining space between your two bodies. Her lips move languishingly but purposefully.

“Bed?” you breathlessly murmur over her lips.

“Bed.” she eagerly nods.

Tags: @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @imlike-so-gaydude | click here to be added to my taglist

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds #cm #jennifer Jareau fluff #jennifer Jareau comfort

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

[criminalmindsfanantic]

Emily: I give up. I am so tired.

Penelope: Get the emergency supply!

Derek: *carries JJ and places her in front of Emily*

JJ: *smiles*

Emily: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

#chaoticbau #they’re gay your honor #so gay dude #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #criminal minds #cm #incorrect criminal minds #incorrect cm #incorrect criminal minds quotes #derek morgan #penelope garcia #soft #fluff #comfort

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

BAU team X POTS Teen Reader

Request: Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

I don't have POTS so I've done research and using the NHS website to help lol

The team are interviewing a teenager who witnessed the unsub kidnapping his next victim who the BAU were chasing, the teen has a pots episode.

Third person pov...

It had been a sunny day, in Louisiana

Y/N L/N was on their way home from a day out with friends, as they walked they routinely took breaks as to not have a POTS episode.

On one break they stood under a shaded area drinking some water, as they did they spotted a man dragging a young girl a couple years younger than they were, they watched as the girl struggled in the man's grip.

She and Y/N made eye contact, the desperation in her eyes made Y/N realise she was being kidnapped, they watched as the man forced the young girl into a white van, they stayed hidden.

After that happened they called the police.

Hours later the FBI show up at Y/Ns house, after reassuring their parents the teen was taken in for questioning about what they saw and if they could help them.

The interrogation room was warm, far to warm for Y/Ns liking, they of course knew it was hot outside but inside was unbearable.

Also they forgot to ask for some water, because of their condition the teen had to keep themselves from becoming to hot and to drink enough fluids otherwise they would faint.

As they sit in the room waiting for the agents to come in they begin taking off their button up shirt they had worn over the top of their tank top.

Soon two agents entered the room where Y/N was waiting, they could see the fear and anxiety in the teen eyes. Their hands were shaking and was fidgeting in their chair.

Morgan and Rossi took the lead in the interview, while the rest of the team observed from the other side of the two-way mirror.

"Now Y/N can you tell us what you saw?' Rossi asked gently, trying to make the teenager feel comfortable.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to recount their experience. They had been walking home from hanging out with friends, when he saw the unsub forcing a young girl into his van.

The H/C teen had immediately called the police but stayed hidden, watching the whole ordeal unfold. They manages to describe the unsub in great detail, from the way he looked to the van and the girl he took.

The team was impressed by the teens bravery and their attention to detail. But suddenly, their eyes screwed up in pain and began grabbing their chest.

Fanning themselves pulling the tank top away from their heated skin. The team were shocked not knowing what was happening to the teen.

Rossi and Derek were quick to the teens side. "Episode" mutters the teen slouching forward, this made Derek leap to catch the teen.

"Whoa there" he catches the teen, gently tapping their face to keep them awake. "Water they need fluid" Yelled Spencer, he had recognise the symptoms of POTS when the teen started fanning themselves during their explanation.

"And call and ambulance!" JJ nods her head as she begins calling for an ambulance.

Hotch then runs off for a bottle of water, as he came back he thew it to Rossi who grabbed it and began opening it for Y/N, he then knelt doen next to the teen.

" Ragazzino (kiddo), come on I need you to drink this for me" he coaxed the teen gently as Derek lifted their head to be able to drink the offered drink.

Y/N begins drinking the water, which helped, they needed lots of fluids during an episode. Spencer then walks into the room. "Ambulance is 5 minutes out, I've read up of POTS we should help them stand up and walk around slowly" explains the Genius.

Derek and Rossi look at each other before nodding. "Okay let's get them up" "on 3. 1..2..3.." together they help Y/N stand up.

Holding them up they trio begin walking slowly around the room to get Y/N moving to help the teens flare up, as they did this the ambulance finally arrived.

Y/N was then taken to hospital, Hotch called their Mum to meet them there, the team all pile into the two black SUVs, all wanting to make sure the teen was okay.

The next day, Y/N is back at the police station, their episode wasn't dangerous one, they had probably overexertered themselves yesterday after watching the kidnapping.

As they walk around they find the FBI agents that took so much care of them, their Mother had insisted on bringing them all home made cookies to thank them.

The teen knocked on the door to the conference room the team was using, everyone was there, Rossi and Derek were surprised to see the teen up and looking healthy again.

"Hey everyone" they wave to the team, the teen walked in holding out the box of cookies. "Thank you for helping me yesterday, Mum made cookies as thanks" they explained opening the box.

The team were shocked, they all reached into the box and grabbed a cookie each, Y/N watched as their faces all lit up at the taste. "Thank you and thank you to your Mother for the cookies" Hotch tells the teen.

Y/N gives them a huge smile. "Also I'm here to help you more, I remembered a few more things, when I have an episode I get brain fog and forgot a few pieces of information" they explained, soon the teen was sat at the table with the team.

The ac on high with a bottle of cold water infront of them. Y/N began telling the agents what they remembered, thanks to their memory they were able to catch the Unsub before he could grab another Victim.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, sorry for the wait I've had the worse cold literally all weekend felt like I was dying, finally feeling better again so here is a oneshot for you.

Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1100

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x teen!reader #bau x teen!reader #reader has pots #condition #david rossi x teen reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x teen reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x teen reader #jennifer jareau x teen reader #fainting #reader has a condition

[amorechris]

                       Brooklyn Baby

SUMMARY : After a case that hit close to you, not only were the victims paper copy of you, and you had taken on a very heated standoff with the unsub. When you all return to quantico you are greeted with another case, however your boss seems to have a soft spot for you.

PROMPT : "I need a good cry and a shower. So give me like half an hour and then we go kick some ass."

WARNINGS : fluff, mentions of bau gore, cuteness, bau fluff, and more of the cutest fluff, comfort, bad humor

YOU TRUTHFULLY DIDN'T KNOW HOW YOU HADN'T BROKE DOWN, the team didn't either. The case was tuff for you as these victims were a clear lead to who he was really after, you. You had to admit the man was clever, he had picked a state you did college in and did murders there to lure you out there back to your home, Brooklyn. From there things got worse by the minute.

When you were in the stand-down it was after an attack of he purposely crashing into the SUV you had been in on purpose. He had tried to abduct you but even in you bloodied cut up state you had managed to take him down. Though it ended with a concussion, and a bullet graze. It was truly admirable to Hotchner how you showed such strength through the case and the team would've been lying if they said they didn't admire you at all.

Though you should've known that it would come flooding the second you got even a minute alone. So when you had stuffed your go bag back under your desk the team had dispersed to get coffee, bathroom breaks, vending machine snacks, before they went to see what their second case was.

You had sat down and stared at your file covered desk and slowly the lights around you became shiny, your bottom lip quivered unintentionally and slowly your eyes blurred like how they would when you first take your contacts out. You felt the tears falling down your cheeks without even blinking.

You were the person that disguised or hid your emotion through humor, it was a coping mechanism and Spencer had told you that multiple times when you guys would have small outings for coffee and library breaks. However it was just your personality and it was a quality that actually people liked.

You hadn't noticed when Dave came out of his office taking one glance at you and lightly knocked on hotch's window. Soon somebody was standing in front of you and slowly you could hear people like Morgan and JJ asking if you were alright. However you snorted lightly and wiped your eyes.

You looked up at your boss who had discarded his stoic expression and it was replaced with concern. Spencer was already running to the coffee machine, and Morgan was going to get Penelope to come in with her special 'cheer up' stuffed animal. All your teammates contributed in different ways and you all cared foe each other and took care of each other like family.

The thought, the deep of having a family you thought you would never had made you cry a bit harder.

"I need a good cry and a shower. So give me like half an hour and then we go kick some ass."

You had let out a mix of a sob and a laugh before you stood up and and Hotchner put his arm out resting his hand on your lower back. You wiped you eyes thankful you had waterproof mascara and internally cheered that you could cry and not look like a marble painting.

As you reached the door Hotch held it open for you and you spun around with tear stained cheeks and damp eyes holding a thumbs up to your team who had watched and looked worried until you flashed them a smile.

Hotch shook his head sighing and led you out the door and into the elevator and you sniffed wiping your nose as Hotch turned to you once the doors shut.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded and turned to him. "Hotch, I have a question..." you said looking down at your feet.

He turned to face you as you now both stood face to face with backs on either side of the elevator. "If it's time off then, of course."

You smiled softly but shook her head. "No, no. Guess what’s on the menu?" You asked and he shook his head. "Oh god, what is it?" he asked and you snorted.

"Me-n-u."

Hotch unintentionally let out a small laugh but he shut his mouth and stared at you with wide eyes you had the biggest beaming smile.

"I laughed because it was bad."

"mhmm sure, you know you liked it."

"Stop talking."

"But you didn't hear the one about the boats!"

#aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #Aaron hotchner #bau #Aaron Hotchner fluff #Spencer reid #Emily prentiss #Derek morgan #criminal minds x reader #bau team x reader #jennifer jareau #jack hotchner #fluff #fanfic #comfort #unsub #Aaron Hotchner x reader #bau reader #criminal minds fandom #Aaron Hotchner fanfic #Criminal minds fanfic

[dronningreid]

"I watch Criminal Minds for the plot"

The plot:

(I love all the BAU agents, but they are my favorites).

#matt simmons #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid #agent reid #agent hotchner #jason gideon #comfort #favorite #my favorite #cm #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #jj

[section-chief-prentiss]

Midnights Chapter 1: Wake

Collection Summary: A collection of one-shots of sleepless nights between you and Emily. 

Chapter Summary: You wake up after a nightmare and Emily comforts you. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader 

Word Count: 897

Ao3

“Where is she?” you asked, not even bothering to close the car door behind you as you ran toward Hotch.

Hotch’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Y/N—”

“She did not go inside without backup,” you said, hoping if you said it forcefully enough that it would be true. “She did not go into a massive warehouse after a known bomber by herself.”

Hotch’s lack of response was all you needed.

“Give me a vest,” you said, holding a hand out.

Behind Hotch, Morgan reached for an FBI vest, but Hotch held a hand up to stop him. 

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

“Hotch, she’s my partner. What if it was Haley in there?” 

Hotch grimaced. “That would be different; Haley’s a civilian. Emily’s trained, and we sent the bomb squad in behind her.” 

“You can’t expect me to just stand here and do nothing!”

“I won’t risk sending in more agents when it isn’t necessary. She’s looking for the child the unsub kidnapped, not the bomber.”

“We profiled that the unsub would keep the child with him. If the building explodes—” you broke off, unable to finish the thought.

“Y/N, if you can’t compose yourself, I’ll have JJ take you back to the field office. We need to keep level heads in front of the public.”

You glanced behind him at the crowd that was forming behind the police barricade and hated that he was right. Even still, you had to bite down on the retort that was dying to surface, knowing that if you let it, it would be accompanied by several four-letter words that your superior was not likely to appreciate.

“Come here,” JJ said, wrapping an arm around you, and walking you out of earshot of your teammates.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, fighting back tears. “Why would she go in alone?”

JJ’s expression softened. “You know why. She’d never leave a child in danger if she could help it.”

At that moment, you hated your girlfriend’s compassionate heart. 

JJ reached a hand up to her earpiece, listening for something that you couldn’t hear, and smiled. “Emily has the girl. There’s no sign of the unsub, and she’s on her way back out.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. You’d see her soon, and then your heart would be whole again.

You turned toward the building, your eyes jumping between each set of doors, wondering where Emily would emerge from.

It gave you the perfect view as the building went up in flames.

“No!” you screamed, breaking into a run before you could think about it. 

JJ’s arms were around you in an instant, holding you back. Morgan rushed over to assist her as you tried to fight out of their grasp.

“Let me go!” you sobbed. “Let me go! Emily! Emily!”

“Y/N,” another voice whispered. “Y/N, wake up. It’s okay.”

Your eyes flew open, and you pressed a hand against your racing heart. The bedroom around you was dark, but you’d know the soft scent of the woman next to you anywhere. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Emily murmured, stroking your hair. “You were screaming my name.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you were grateful to the darkness for concealing it. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You rolled on your side to face your girlfriend, who was propped up on an elbow, looking at you with a mix of love and concern. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I get them, too. Do you want to talk about it?”

You nodded, and Emily took your hand. 

“It was last week’s case,” you whispered.

“The bomber?” she asked, and you nodded.

“You didn’t make it out in time. The building went up with you in it.” 

She sucked in breath. “Oh, Y/N. But it didn’t; I’m right here.”

“It could’ve,” you said, gesturing toward a bandage on her arm, concealing a burn that was still healing. 

Emily and the little girl—Clara—made it out of the building, but not for lack of effort. The unsub caught up to them near the exit, and Emily was burned protecting Clara. In the end, they made it out alive, and the unsub was apprehended. 

But you hadn’t been able to shake the fear that had consumed you that day and followed you ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I’m so sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t thinking, and I know now if the roles had been reversed—” she stopped herself. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it, either.”

“Promise me,” you replied. “Promise me that you’ll wait for backup in the future. I know there’s always danger, but the thought of you facing a situation like that alone again paralyzes me.” 

“I promise,” Emily said, squeezing your hand. “And I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know,” you smirked, rolling over to face away from her. Moments later, Emily started rubbing circles on your back, immediately putting you at ease. She always knew the best ways to relax you.

You snuggled deeper under the covers as she continued making circles up and down your back, and you managed to murmur, “I love you,” as you drifted off to sleep.

Just before you did, you felt Emily peck a kiss on the back of your neck and whisper, “I love you, too.” 

Tag List: @yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom Join my tag list!

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #fanfiction #paget brewster #pagetbrewster #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #nightmare #comfort

[hotchsreader]

You’re my Last Call

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Hotch had broken up over a month ago. Once he broke up with you, he disappeared, absolutely no contact with you anymore. You didn’t know why, there were no signs he was unhappy until he just broke off everything. Up until a freak accident happens, you thought you had lost the love of your life. What if that was never the case, and he just thought you’d be better off without his sadness?

trigger warning: car accident

read on ao3 here

Now there's blood on the windshield

And there's credit cards on the floor

And I'm crawling out the window of my passenger side door

Your picture's on the dashboard and that's the only thing I saw

You were always first to catch me when I fall

Yeah, I'm sorry you were my last call

- Lyrics from the song 3/13 by Wyatt Flores

Hotch was trying to remind himself of the good days when things felt less heavy and he could have a clear head. These days? Everything felt so heavy that he didn’t know if it was possible not to be stressed out. He had broken up with you weeks ago. Maybe it has been a month already, he was unsure at this point. He knew that his presence was a downer to everyone around him, and you had been too much of a light in the world to let him dull you. He loved you so much, but he knew that letting you go would be the best option for you to succeed.

Everything felt like it was going so slowly. He had left the office about an hour ago and was headed toward the victim's house to do one last walk-through to see if there was anything that the local police had missed. He knew exactly where he was going as he and the team had been there before, so he did not even tell anyone he was going there or put the location in his GPS. He had been paying attention, he wasn't too tired, he had slept pretty well the night before, and nothing but you were on his mind. He looked down at his dashboard, to see the photo of you he kept there. Even though he left, he kept you with him. He always wanted to keep you with him, other than Jack, you were his biggest source of happiness. He had looked down for a split second, but apparently, that was enough time for a far to cross into Hotch’s lane and slammed him into the wall lining the highway.

-

After the car crashed, Hotch couldn’t remember anything until he felt himself on the concrete ground and saw random faces flashing back and forth over the top of him.

“Sir. Is there anyone we can call for you?” They asked hoping to get an answer from the man lying in front of them. They knew there was a strong chance there was a concussion.

Hotch could hardly muster up many words, all he said was your name. Your name and said check the phone.

-

You were at work. Everyone else had started going home, and the law office was closed for the day. There wasn’t any noise as you sat typing your last report on your laptop, it seemed peaceful almost. That was until, your phone started ringing incredibly loud, piercing through the silence.

“Maam. This is Officer Finch. I have a man here by the name of Aaron Hotchner, he was in a car accident. He gave us you to call.”

“Where is he? He is a Federal Agent.”

Before the officer even finished giving you the details of where Aaron was, you had already grabbed all of your things and ran out of the office. By the time you hung up with him, you were only ten minutes away.

Nothing would stop you from getting to him. Nothing that happened between the two of you would make you not rush to his side. He was, and would always be, your person.

When you got there, the first thing you noticed were the lights and the sirens. It brought back so many memories from when Hotch was hurt by Foyet. your heart was pounding in your chest and you just needed to find him to see that he was okay. an officer waved you over, and you saw him lying on the ground. There was a cut across his forehead, and his eyes were grimacing like he was in pain. It was killing you, even though you hadn’t even fully gotten up to him to see him in that kind of condition. He looked almost pitiful. you weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him because of how badly he had hurt you so you stood and talked to the paramedics who said that it was most likely that he had a concussion, but that he was going to be fine he was very lucky. The person had crossed his lane of traffic and when they did, it caused his car to swerve headfirst into the highway wall.

You heard a soft voice call your name. It was very quiet, almost like it was reserved. They didn’t want to be calling your name. They didn’t want you to know that they needed you at this moment. you didn’t know what to do because doing this was wrong to be an emergency contact on a person who had tried so hard to remove you from their life. One day everything was okay, holding hands laughing together, knowing each other’s favorite orders at the coffee shop, to not even a phone call explaining why everything ended with a snap of a finger.

“Yeah, Aaron I’m here,” you said softly in his ear, as you finally walked over to him, kneeling next to him and running your hands through his hair. That was always a small comfort for him when he really needed somebody he loved you running your fingers through his hair.

“ I am so sorry but you were the only person I wanted to be here, I know I am probably the last person you want to hear from right now.” His voice was still very soft, almost like it hurt to speak and he wanted to tell him to stop talking to focus on getting to the hospital, but you also wanted to hear what he had to say. Selfish as it was, you wanted to know why. Why did he end everything? Why did he act like he didn’t exist after two years of a beautiful relationship, why did he call you now he had his whole team that would break down walls to get to him if they knew something was wrong? Why did he call you a person who genuinely couldn’t do anything but be there for him?

“We will talk when you’re able to form a coherent sentence, Aaron, I'm here now and I’m definitely not leaving until I know you’re okay.” You rubbed his face with your hand, and he pressed his face into your palm.

you sat there as they loaded him into the ambulance and asked if you were allowed to ride along. They said yes, considering it was not life-threatening. You could drop your car at a gas station and they would come by and pick you up to take you with him. you did not want to be where you couldn’t see him, but you trusted the paramedics to take care of him for the five minutes he would be out of your line of sight. once you got into your car, you texted the team. You still had all of their phone numbers in case of emergency to let them know what was going on and your phone started ringing off the hook.

“What is going on?” JJ was on the other side of the phone. her voice made you calm down a little bit. The two of you had become very close friends during your relationship with Aaron and even after he had broken up with you JJ always kept in contact.

“They said that a car came into his lane and knocked him into the highway wall. He was conscious and able to talk, and I went with him to the hospital. I have to drop my car off at a gas station so it wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the highway.” You responded, your voice becoming wobbly during your explanation.

She gulped pretty heavily, you knew this was hard for her to hear. as well. “Do you want me to come up? I’m more than willing to come and just be a helping hand for you. I could be the communication between the team to let them know how he’s doing so you don’t have to constantly be on your phone and keep everyone updated. I can do it for you.” She knew how hard this was for you, and that small gesture would be such a relief, and would take so much off your plate that you didn’t even know how to deal with it.

“JJ you mean the world to me. Could you also contact Jessica and let her know what’s going on? I really don’t wanna have to call her even though I love her. This is just so much and I need to check on him and be with him.”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” She said you could feel how genuine she was in the last few words. Meeting Aaron was one of the best things that ever happened to you, but meeting her was a close second. You reciprocated and hung up the phone, got to the gas station, got into the ambulance, and off to the hospital you went. You held on to Hotch’s hand the entire time.

-

The next three hours consisted of people running in and out of the hospital room, checking on Hotch, readjusting him, checking his vitals, and it felt like almost complete chaos. The minute JJ got there you could almost cry out of relief. You needed someone else there, to make this seem like less of a fever-induced dream. To bring you back to reality, almost like a shared experience instead of being alone in a hospital room with the love of your life being poked and prodded by hospital staff.

“Hi sweetie,” JJ says as she walks into the room, tears in her eyes as she looks over at Hotch. You know the two of them are close, he always has talked highly of her.

“Hi.” This was the first time you have heard your own voice in hours and it sounded almost foreign to you. It sounded defeated and hurt.

“Why are you here JJ?” This caused you to jump. Hotch had not spoken the entire three hours until JJ walked into the room. Did he just not want to speak to you? If this was the case, why did he ask everyone to call you? You turned your head over to him, a look of hurt running over your face. He noticed immediately and turned his head away from you to look at JJ.

“You know what, I’m going to go call the team, I’ll be back in a minute. You better prepare yourself for Garcia to run in here with balloons in snacks in a few hours Hotch.” She tried to make the atmosphere less tense before she left, but the hurt and anger in you could physically feel it.

You stood up, walked over to Hotch, and put your hand under his chin, and made him look at you. He stared at you for a minute, tears gathering in his eyes as he did and he tried to open his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Absolutely not, you do not get to speak right now Aaron Hotchner. You do not get to be the first one to speak after what you have put me through in the last few hours. I get to speak first.”

He nodded at you, tears slipping from his eyes.

“You LEFT me with no explanation. You are the love of my life. I would lay down everything I am and will be to make sure you and Jack are safe and happy. I did nothing wrong to deserve to be deserted. I did nothing, Aaron. I love you so much, I will love you until the day I die. Why would you have them call me? Why would you do what you did?” At this point, you were sobbing, and the last few words that came out of your mouth were gargled.

Hotch raised his hand and wiped the tears from your cheek, you wanted to turn away but your brain and arm betrayed you and you raised your hand up to hold his while it was on your face.

“Honey, it had nothing to do with you. You are the most beautiful, loving, caring person in this world.”

“But then why? What was wrong? What happened to us?”

“It was me. I was bringing you down. I was making everything worse. I didn't want to ruin your life with my hurt.” The last few words were barely a whisper.

You looked up, for the first time since this conversation started, and looked at the man in front of you. He was crying, tears falling down the side of his face onto the pillow. He was gripping your hard really hard, the ring on your fingers digging into your skin. He looked pitiful. He was heartbroken, not just because of what currently happened but because of everything going on in his head. You had wished he would’ve told you this a lot sooner. So much hurt could have been prevented if he had just been honest with you. But you knew this man, you knew he would hide things so deeply inside himself if it meant no one else had to get hurt. You knew he would hide things if it meant you would be protected from the harsh realities.

“Aaron. You are and will always be my world. If something is bothering you, I would like to talk about it. I would like to be able to be there for you if you would let me be. Please, just talk to me. Let me be there for you.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into your palm. His face was flush from the accident and from the tears. He felt, defeated.

“I don’t want anyone to have to deal with me. Especially not someone who has so much to offer this world. I am just a mess of a man. You were the last person I wanted to call because I do not want you to have to clean up after me.”

“If loving you means I have to be there for everything, every sad day, every hard day, every difficult day, I will be.” You said, running your hands through his hair, his favorite.

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“Too late, I am already too committed.”

“You know, I was looking at my photo of you on my dashboard before it happened.” He turned his head closer to you.

“You have a photo of me in your work car?” You truly didn’t know this.

“Have the moment we started dating. It's a photo of you smiling at work when I came to visit for the first time. You were so excited to show me around to everyone. Your boyfriend is a Unit Chief in the FBI. You were so smiley the entire time, I wanted to remember that happiness on hard days. So in my work car, it sits, it's comforting.”

“Well, we can take more photos.” You sat on the edge of the bed, he sat up and you leaned into him. You were not going anywhere.

“I love you, you know that. I’m sorry for leaving, I just thought I was hurting you more than I was helping. I thought if you knew how bad I was feeling you would feel responsible or that I would hurt you.”

“I love you more than you know.”

-

After the talk, and JJ called the team to let them know the extent of everything going on, you decided to walk with her to get some coffee. Penelope had shown up five minutes after JJ ended the call with tons of goodies for Hotch, and you let her and Derek sit in there with him while you took a break. Hopefully, he would be okay, Derek could handle Penelope and Hotch needed a friend.

The two of you walked along side each other in silence until you got to the elevator. Once you got to the elevator JJ finally spoke up.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She looked at you sideways as she finished the question.

“Actually, yeah. What he said made me a bit worried and I need some more insight into what’s been going on.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He broke up with me because he’s having a hard time mentally. Has he been weird or more restricted at work at all?” You asked the question as you got into the elevator.

“A bit. I thought maybe it was due to the breakup but honestly it’s been going on a few months. I try not to pry because while he is my boss and my friend, i don’t want him to think i don’t trust him.”

“I understand that completely. I knew something was up, but I didn’t think he’d leave me just because he didn’t want to talk about it. I think we’re on the same page now, but i’m not letting this go. I love him too much.”

“He loves you too, trust me. Your photo is in his car, on his phone, in his office. You and Jack are his world. I honestly think he’s just scared.” As you got out of the elevator together she turned and hugged you. knowing you haven’t had one since this all happened. You loved your best friend, and she always knew what you needed.

-

Hotch was in the hospital for a day. They wanted to keep him overnight just for observation, but it turned out everything was okay. He had a concussion and a few cuts on his head but he was going to be fine. you were by his bedside the entire time you slept there you only left to go to the bathroom or if somebody else came and made you go get a cup of coffee. Usually it was JJ or Derek that convinced you to get up, despite Hotch telling you countless times it was okay to go home. You truly just were so happy to have him back you didn’t want to leave him again.

You both had walked to your car so you could drive him home. Jessica was keeping Jack for one more night that way Hotch could settle down at home and make sure that he was okay and you were going to stay with him tonight, because there was no way you were going to let him be alone.

“You know we have to talk about everything, right?” you said the minute you both got into the car.

“Yeah honey, I know.” He reached over and grabbed your hand and squeezed it hard.

“Why did you do this? I know you’re hurting. I would do anything to make you happy and feel loved and appreciated, that’s my goal when i’m with you. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the point, I just don’t want you to have to take care of me. I want to be there for you.” He started looking out of the window, like that was going to make his hurt get up and fly away.

“ Now you know a relationship is 50/50, and sometimes on bad days it’s 20/80. We give what we can, my love, and if you’re having a bad day I am more than willing to pick up the slack.” It was your turn to squeeze his hand, to bring him back to reality and remember that you were here, and that you were not going anywhere.

“I am embarrassed.” You looked over at him to see him, start to cry, genuine tears falling from his eyes, the look of defeat and hurt and embarrassment falling over his face. it was the saddest you had ever seen someone look and it absolutely shattered your heart to see him like that.

“Absolutely not,” You pulled over and stopped the car, “you have NO reason to be embarrassed about having a hard time Aaron Hotchner. You have been through more in the past few years than I could ever imagine. I don’t think I would be up walking around if I had gone through what you had been through. I would not be as good of a man as good of a dad as good of a person if I had been through what you had to go through. you give it your all every single day, whether it be as a father or as the leader of a team that saves peoples lives and every single day. you deserve somebody that not only wants to be with you at your best but somebody that will be there for you at your worst and I will be there for you. Always.” You took his face in your hands and turned him to look at you. He was still crying so you wiped his tears with your thumbs, and looked him in the eyes. You leaned in and gave him a big kiss. A kiss to cement everything you just said. So he knew, you were completely serious.

“Okay. I am sorry for what I've done, but for you, I am willing to try. I am willing to accept my downfalls, and lean on you when I need you. And you will never be my last call again, you will always be my first.”

“I better be.”

That got a smile out of him, and a small chuckle. You kissed him again and started the car back up, put it in drive, and took you both home.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #fem!reader #bau team #criminal minds #hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #fanfic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner female reader #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[simp4eshal]

Reassurance

Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader

an: this was supposed to be a Beck Oliver x Reader thingy but idk, i felt like it was better with spencer ???

warnings: insecurity, talks of jealousy, being kinda shady toward JJ but not really, some suggestive words and actions but it's really just fluff and comfort, they're so cute and he's so in love

It was dark outside. So dark, the stars were barely visible, and you wondered if the moon was okay. While staring out in the cold night through your boyfriend’s window, you felt a hand sneaking lazily around your waist. “What are you thinking ?” Spencer said, tracing stupid patterns on your hips “Nothing, really.” you replied, feeling suddenly called out. He stopped and stared at you, a worried glint behind his eyes. “I know there’s something else. You’ve been awfully quiet and, not to be a jerk, but you’ve been here for 2 hours straight and by that time I would’ve usually been sinking into your tight, dripping cunt” his tone was playful, sultry even, as he said so. A proud smile adorned his features once he heard you laugh lightly, muttering a shy “stop” while cuddling next to him.

Silence fell upon them. His hands roamed your body almost innocently, and you almost felt like you were able to talk to him now. “Talk. I feel like you need it” he said. You sighed against his chest, and started confessing. “Do you…like JJ ?” he looked confused as you said so “JJ ? Of course I like JJi, she’s my friend” You sighed again, this time looking deeply into his eyes “No. I mean like, like JJ.” Spencer stopped for a moment, then realized. “Oh. Ohhhh. Is this what this is about ?” his hands came and cupped both of her cheeks, a sweet smile forming on his plump lips “I know that JJ and you have been friends for God knows how long, and I know that my jealousy is ridiculous but- I just, I just need reassurance.”

 He smiled again looking at you, his heart filling with love “Don’t say that. Your emotions are not stupid, they are completely valid.” he stopped for a moment “I know that JJ and I are pretty close. But you shouldn’t worry. You really shouldn’t. However, I am glad that you told me about this.” his hands found yours, kissing your knuckles fondly. “I love you. I truly do. And I am so glad that you mentioned JJ, because as much as I love her too, I don’t want something to happen, this time between you and me.” You knew what he was referring to. His messy break up (break ups ?) with other girlfriends, always somehow including JJ. You didn’t blame the girl. But because you knew that she was enough of an issue to play part in his past break ups, you were just so afraid to see it happen to the both of you too. JJ was a really smart and attractive girl, but she was way too… tactile ? present ? whatever, too something for you. No shade, though. Which is why you felt like you needed to talk to Spencer, and not to her.

“If you want me to, I’ll put boundaries between JJ and I. More boundaries.” he said confidently “No ! I don’t want things to be weird between you guys, I just want…emotional boundaries ? Maybe, slow down with the random calls while we’re together and stuff ? I mean, obviously, when those calls are not about work…” you asked shyly, yet with underlying confidence, because you knew that this was important to you. He stared at you again, his hands now under your shirt, cradling your skin. “Okay. I will.” he looked once again into your eyes, smiling, so so happy that you felt secure enough in your relationship to just address it. “I love you” he whispered, pecking your cheeks, then your nose, and your neck. You giggled, your chest lighter, and your heart full with love for your adorable, adorable boyfriend “I love you too”.

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #lana del rey #spencer reid #criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #love #fluff #comfort #jealousy #in love #hurt/comfort #insecurity #bau #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom

[toogay2besaved]

✨PLEASE show me your very first comfort character VS your most recent! If you have multiple please show!! ✨

I’ll go first

Miss honey from Matilda

Now Emily Prentiss (honestly been her for a long time)

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jemily #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #penelope garcia #comfort character #miss honey #matildas

[darkomoth]

Insomniacs

Chapter 1: Violets

Aaron Hotchner x reader

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

Cause when doesn't it?

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

Also uploaded on Ao3 under the same title

Word count: 9.7K

Ch. 2 Ch.3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, not really a question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. So?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Any sign of sexual assault?” 

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

“When were they called in?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so on it.” Penelope says.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The flower?” Prentiss asks. 

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak and be heard by residing genius PG.” 

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

“What makes you think that?” Prentiss asks. 

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet?” 

-  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already being sent.” 

“Oh...” She said, sadly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, just one more thing, sir.” 

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Has anyone seen L/N?” She asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Me neither.” Reid says. 

Everyone else only shakes their head in agreement. 

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

“Well...” JJ starts. 

“What?” Hotch asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were the profiler.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-  

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

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

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

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

Then he took a deep breath and dialed Garcia. 

“Sir?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, God. Oh my God, okay.” 

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

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

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

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

“When was she taken?” Prentiss asks first. 

“And from where?” Reid adds. 

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

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

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

That made everyone stiffen. 

Rossi speaks now, “Same message?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An admirer?” Prentiss repeats. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

“Yes?” 

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

“Yes, I am. What is this about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir we did.” Morgan responds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for your time.” 

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

“Ready and waiting.” She said. 

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

“Uhhhh, nine.” 

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

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

“We’ll need his address immediately.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch fic #angst #hurt comfort #kidnapping #mutual pining #insomnia #protective hotch #concerned hotch #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #david rossi #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

[demonicbaby666]

Drabble idea - JJ talking care of reader while she is sick 🤒 just all the fluff and feelings 🥰

Sniffles

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: JJ x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.3k+

A/N: Thanks for the req nonny, hope I provided you with the fluff you wanted. It's written more comically and is a little too long to count as Drabble, but what can I say, I got a little carried away with the banter. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Hell. That was the only way to describe what your body was putting you through. Head pounding, nose stuffed with tissue and a throat that fell victim to a brutal attack of never-ending coughs, trying hopelessly to get whatever felt like it was stuck in there out. 

You’d taken refuge on the sofa that morning, knowing if you went back to bed, there was a high possibility you may never make it out again. Though the idea of withering away and meeting your final demise sounded tempting, someone would probably miss you. 

At what point you fell asleep to the tv playing reruns of god knows how many shows, you had no idea. All you knew was there was a muffled ringing coming not just from inside your ears, but from somewhere in the apartment. The door. 

Heavily considering, far longer than appropriate, army crawling to the door, you settled on unceremoniously flinging your frail body upright, trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to ignore the black spots that painted your vision. As you trudged over to the door you made a silent promise to yourself, if the disturber of your peace fell short of a good enough reason for ringing your doorbell when you were on death's door, you’d subject them to the very same torment you were going through. One cough, maybe a little sneeze would do the trick, it was only fair. 

“I swear, if you’ve lost your cat again Phil, I’ll-” you croaked out, latching onto the door handle - which would require sanitizing now, great - and pulled it open. 

“No missing cats,” JJ chuckled, continuing in a hushed tone, “though I am curious, what exactly were you planning on doing?” 

Nope. Not happening. 

Mirrors, unfortunately, very much existed, which was why you sure as hell knew you were one sight to behold. A neighbour seeing you in a heavily stained dressing gown, hair thrown into a messy bun, and not the cute kind, that'd be fine, normal even. Well, you’d like to think normally you didn’t look like someone who’d contracted some type of bug, but JJ seeing you like this. Very much not the same. So, you did the only thing you could. 

You shut the door in her face. 

“You’ll get sick.” You shouted, your voice sounding far too similar to that of a dying pelican, or any dying creature for that matter.

“Number one. You’re letting me in because I’m your girlfriend and it’s my legal obligation to look after you. Number two. I know how to break down a door. Number three. If you don’t let me in, I will break down your door.” 

“You gave me three points that were not relevant to what I said. You’ll. Get. Sick.” 

“Sorry, let me try again. Number one, you have ten seconds to open the door before I kick it down. How was that babe?” For someone stuck on the other side of a door, waiting to take care of a walking germ factory, it was quite astonishing to hear how peppy JJ was. 

Well; it was decided. It seemed there wasn’t ample room for negotiation, your front door’s life hanging in the balance and all. Knowing she wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, you hesitantly re-opened the door, peeking your head into the small open space. “If you could avoid looking at my face, that would be amazing.” 

“Oh shush, I’ve been face to face with a rotting corpse, more than once.” She stepped forward, foot pressing the door more and more ajar until there was enough space for her to slip in, during which you slugged back to the sofa and threw a blanket over your head.

“I’m not sure that was as comforting or reassuring as you wanted it to be.” It was true, comparing one’s likeness to a dead body wasn’t exactly flattering, in fairness, it may have been accurate; nevertheless, it remained a deflating thought.

JJ took her shoes and coat off, knowing where to put them, then walked over to join you, “Show me that face of yours.” She teased, pulling at the blanket. There she sat, next to you - looking stunning as ever - trying to rip away the one shred of dignity you had left. In your books, it seemed a direct declaration of war. 

“Would you stop that!” You pleaded. Too disoriented from the journey to the door and back, there was little fight left in you, making it too easy for the blonde to yank your fortress out of your weak grip, taking the single morsel of pride you had left with it to the floor. 

“There she is!” She beamed.

“I don’t think I like you anymore.” It was the fact your sulking face reached only her chest, warming it with pure adoration, that JJ remained impartial to the comment. Finding it more amusing than hurtful. 

“Well, that’s a shame, because I still like you and I’m not going anywhere. Guess you’ll just have to suffer in silence. Though, knowing you, you always have something to say.” She poked.

Disregarding the bantering jab, a traitorous smile crept onto your lips. The sight of your dishevelled face led you to believe JJ would run for the hills. She didn’t. In fact, she’d taken it upon herself, in her own way, to reassure you she felt the opposite. The declaration stunning you into silence, involuntarily gawking. 

“Are you going to let me look after you now?” She asked, trying not to laugh at the expression written all over your face. “If I get sick, you’ll just have to repay the favour and look after me.” 

“Then I’ll get sick again.” 

“We’ll be in an endless loop of domestic bliss then, won’t we?”

“Sounds heavenly.” You sardonically quibbed, earning yourself a swift elbow to the ribs. For dramatic effect, you let out a loud groan, which by no means did JJ buy, “There’s got to be a rule against that.” rubbing your ‘injured’ side. 

“I didn’t read the new edition of the ‘How to Look After Your Sick Girlfriend’ handbook, I go by the old rules.” She humoured, thinking it was quite a good comeback. Which it was, but she couldn’t know that. “It did mention something about snuggling up on the sofa though.”

Now that was a comeback that warranted appraisal. Unfortunately, in this case, appraisal came in the form of two flushed cheeks and a timid smile, both of which JJ, kindly, chose not to mention. Out-stretched arms guided you down, welcoming you into an embrace you swore had magical healing abilities. 

There was a slim chance of smelling anything – what with having a blocked nasal cavity - yet the sweet aroma of JJ’s hair made it through, whether it was a phantom smell, you didn’t care. Not when slender fingers worked on unbinding your tousled hair, running gentle strokes through stubborn knots that unfurled under her touch, much like you did. 

“You know you didn’t have to come?” The question came from a place of doubt, had the roles been reversed, you knew with certainty, you’d be doing the exact same. Regrettably, logic did nothing to cease your insecurities. 

“In sickness and in health, right?” she softly said, smiling down with so much devolution in her eyes you found yourself battling tears. 

“If you so much as think about proposing to me when I’m in this state, so help me JJ. I will sneeze so hard on you; you won’t see the light of day for weeks.” 

Putting her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll save the love declaration for another day as well then.” 

But she didn’t. As she diligently re-convened her girlfriend duties, lulling you into a state of tranquillity Buddha would be envious of, rendering your headache near gone, three joyous words didn’t escape your grasps. 

Your eyes fluttered shut; safe in JJ’s arms, a declaration of your own filled the comfortable silence. “I love you too.” 

Tags: @criminallyobsessedcm @aws-l @babygirlscout | click here to be added to my taglist

#Jennifer Jareau x reader #Jennifer Jareau x you #Jennifer Jareau imagine #Criminal Minds #jj x reader #jennifer jareau #WLW #jennifer jj jareau #lgbt #cm #Jennifer jareau x y/n #Jennifer Jareau fluff #Jennifer Jareau comfort

[pathologicalreid]

Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering

above ground | S.R.

part one part three

in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: hurt/comfort, angst

content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.

Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.

Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.

You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.

Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.

Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.

            There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.

            The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.

            Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.

            You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

            Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.

            Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.

            The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.

            Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.

            The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.

            He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.

            Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.

            A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.

            But then there was Spencer.

            Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.

            Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.

            When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.

            He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.

            On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.

            Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.

            The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.

            You were supposed to go back tomorrow.

            Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.

            You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.

            “It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.

            Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”

            Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.

            “I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.

            His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

            You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.

            Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.

            Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.

            Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.

            Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.

            You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.

            “I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.

            He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”

            You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”

            “But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.

            You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”

            He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.

            Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.

            The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.

            Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.

            “If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”

            Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”

            You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.

Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.

            You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid whump #spencer reid hurt/comfort #david rossi #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid angst #written by margot #margot's asks #criminal minds angst

[archivomeow]

i love you & it’s ruining my life.

masterlists & more | read on ao3

description; jennifer has been acting off lately and when you get the chance to confront her, you learn that she sees you as more than a friend.

warnings; curse words, some jealousy and yelling.

a/n; emily is briefly mentioned, this piece hopefully cured my writers block 🙏

word count; 719

— THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD!

It was like her eyes were burning a hole in your back. You could feel her gaze on you, Jennifer has been avoiding you for days, she was clearly upset and on edge, so you just let her be, but she wasn’t making it easy. Her continuous stares and snarky comments have been getting on your nerves, that combined with all the confusion you felt towards her at the moment resulted in anger.

Jennifer has been an amazing friend ever since you joined the team and when you felt her drift away slowly you did your best to figure out what happened, however she didn’t want to talk about it and everyone advised that you figure it out on your own, which was going nowhere. She just continued to distance herself more and more, day by day, until you were so sick of it you forced an answer out of her.

When Emily filled the two of you on what she and Reid learned, it was your only moment when the two of you were alone.

“What’s your problem, hm?” You turned to her, she stood slightly behind you, was silent the whole time you and Emily talked, not like she spoke much before that.

“I don’t have a problem, now can we get back go our job?”

You scoff at her words. “You stop talking to me, we stop hanging out and any of my efforts to save our friendship are met with… nothing… At least you could talk to the team. I don’t understand why you’re cutting away from me, but being a bitch to Emily is useless.” You sighed, unsure what to do if you’re shut down once again. How many times can you confront her, before it’s too much?

“If you have an issue with me, I’d like to know what is it.” You stood straight in front of her, looking her dead in the eyes. Her face was stoic, calm, but her eyes, her gaze showed it all. She was clearly upset.

“I don’t have an issue! Fuck…” Jennifer mumbles the last word under her breath as she runs her hand through her blonde hair.

“You want to act like friends? Alright… Friends are honest. So, what’s going on between you and Emily, huh? You got close all of a sudden, are you two like a thing now?”

Her voice is bitter. JJ could feel the rage building up inside her stomach and chest, she felt so angry and so fucking jealous.

“I- Is this what this is about? Me having other friends? For fucks sake!” You shut your eyes for a moment, it all felt like a bad dream, but it wasn’t.

“Friends? I ser the way you look at her and the way she looks at you, I’m not stupid or blind!”

You went silent, she was jealous, clearly. The Jennifer you knew was never like this, she was kindhearted and sweet and caring, not jealous and enraged like the version of her you were seeing right now, in front of you. Her words struck you, she wasn’t jealous about you and Emily being friends, she was jealous, because she thought there was more between you and Emily. She just stared back at you, her eyes mad, as she slowly realised how crystal clear she made it what exactly bothered her, she didn’t want Emily falling for you or you liking her back.

“Jennifer…” Your voice was now more steady and calm, you carefully looked her up and down, trying to figure out how upset she still was. You approached her slowly, she rose hands slowly as you tried to hug her, but she broke quickly, her mask shattered with one simple hug and she wrapped her arms around you as well.

Her heart was going crazy against your chest, you could feel it pounding and you could feel her breath against your neck, it was still uneasy.

As the two of you pulled away and your eyes met hers, her beautiful ocean blue eyes, you just thought one thing to yourself; “fuck it”.

So you grabbed her face gently and locked your lips with hers, you could feel her strawberry lips balm and her hand on your hip.

It was unethical, but that didn’t matter now, not to you or her.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #angst #hurt/comfort #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #gn!reader #jennifer jareau x gn!reader #jemnifer jareau angst #jennifer jareau hurt/comfort #aj cook

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

BAU team X Child reader

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! This is a special oneshot because I love Halloween also this is finished and posted a little later than Halloween because I haven't had time to write it.

Summary: 5 year old Y/N loves Halloween and gets the team to dress up with them.

Third person pov...

Little Y/N L/N loved Halloween, every year they dress up as something else this year they plan to be an FBI agent like their family the BAU.

The child was so excited Halloween was around the corner. The five year old had been counting down the days until candy, costumes, and all the thrills and chills of this special day.

Currently thr 5 year old was getting ready in their room, they had a badge, sunglasses, fake gun and was wearing a suit like Hotch does, he was their hero.

Once the child was ready their Mum dropped them off and they walked into the building and walked in, when they got through the reception desk and up to the floor with the BAU on.

The child git out of the elevator and walks into the Bullpen where the team were, as they walk in they see Spencer, Derek, Emily and JJ all chatting at Spencers desk, they hadn't noticed the 5 year old walk in just yet.

Smirking the kid hides behind the desk opposite Spencers and spies on the 4 adults trying and failing to hide their laughter.

JJ stopped talking when she heard a childish giggle, she then motions towards the desk opposite Spencers holding her hand over her mouth to stop laughing.

The rest look and see a tiny bit of H/C hair, Morgan then Smirks and quietly leaves the group and makes his way behind the Reids desk and creeps up behind the child.

When he's behind then he looks up around at the rest of the team who are all trying to hide their smiles but failing, the man then grabs the child and throws them over his shoulder making them squeal.

"You little! Trying to sneak up on us" laughed Derek as he mercifully tickled the 5 year old, their laughter was so loud that the other Agents stopped to look at what the common was.

Even Hotch and Rossi came out if their offices, but begin smiling at the sight of Y/N L/N thrown over Derek's shoulder laughter their head off as the man tickled them.

Tears of laughter ran down the 5 year old face as Derek finally stopped hid attack and set the kid down on the ground, still laughing Y/N tries to get their breath back.

The child glares at Derek who jsut smiles and ruffled the kids hair, this made Y/N huff and try and fix it themselves. Then JJ approached the kid.

"Hey N/N, did you need something?" She asks the kid, Y/N became nervous and fiddled with their fake gun. "I was wondering if you wanted to go trick or treating with me?" They asked almost shouting it.

This made the team surprised but all smiled at the child. "Of course we would love too!" Yelled Emily, grabbing the child and swinging them into her arms, everyone else had identical smiles even Hotch.

From Emily's arms Y/N was grinning. "Yayyy" they exclaimed enthusiastically, once they were put down again Y/N patted their jacket down.

Soen then spoke up, he had been analysing what the kid was dressed as but couldn't tell he had an idea but had to confirm.

"Y/N, are you an FBI agent?" He asks, the child turns to him and grins nodding their head. "Yep I am can you guess who?" They ask, the team them begin thinking at who they could be.

From the suit to the red tie to the incredibly familiar face the kid was making it was easy to guess who. "Its Bossman right!?" Exclaims Penelope waving her hand around excitedly.

Y/N grins. "Correct! I'm Hotch, Wheels up!" They say doing a pretty good impression of said man making Hotch smile they did look like him.

The team laughed a spot on impression. "You guys have to dress up as well!" Exclaimed the kid, 6 hours later the team and child are standing outside in costumes going trick or treating.

Y/N was so ecstatic when they saw everyone in their chosen costumes;

Penelope is a Fairy and looks all mystical and pretty, she had glitter everywhere from her skin to her outfit, she also had wings on the back and had amazing make up on.

Derek dressed like a strong man from a circus, he had a foam bar bell with him and was wearing shorts and a tank

Spencer was dressed like Sherlock Holmes of course with the deer hunter hat and pipe.

Emily was a Vampire with fangs and fake blood everywhere to Y/N she looked awesome.

JJ was a Zombie, ripped clothes and green skin, Penelope helped both woman do their make up.

Rossi got forced to dress up as well, he was a Skeleton he has let Penelope paint half a Skeleton on his face and had Skeleton hands.

Hotch was the hardest to dress up but he gave in when Y/N gave him their 'puppy eyes' he dressed as a Pirate using his hat from highschool.

Y/N was smiling so happy that they all dressed up like their asked. Soon they were dragged all around town, trick-or-treating with an energy that was only matched by their excitement. Everyone had a spook-tacular time, enjoying all the candy, but more importantly, spending quality time with Y/N.

Y/N was more than happy to play the role as an FBI agent and chasing after 'unsubs' which were the team, Rossi made sure to get lots of pictures for them all to have as memories from the night.

At the end of the night, everyone was tired, but happy. Y/N thanked them all for making their Halloween even more special, reminding them of the power of dressing up and having fun.

The team love the kid and could never say no to them, they each have a copy on a group photo they askes a parent to take of them, all smiling and posing like their characters for it.

Y/N couldn't wait for next year's Halloween.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot so sorry for the grammar and Spelling mistakesand for not updating as much I'm pretty busy with classes but I will try and squeeze a couple in everything week or so.

Request are open

Word count: 1115

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #bau x child reader #halloween #aaron hotchner x child! reader #david rossi x child reader #spencer reid x child!reader #emily prentiss x child reader #jennifer jareau x child reader #penelope garcia x child reader #derek morgan x child reader

[dronningreid]

I would erase my memory, just to see Criminal Minds like the first time.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #agent reid #bau #cm #comfort #dr. spencer reid #jennifer jareau #matt simmons #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #luke alvez #tara lewis #emily prentiss #ashley seaver #elle greenaway #jason gideon #jordan todd #stephen walker #alex blake #kate callahan #comfort character #comfort show