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pathologicalreid · 7 months

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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)

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hotchsreader · 1 month

Text

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

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simp4eshal · 2 months

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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”.

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darkomoth · 10 months

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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

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tearsofmilfs · 1 year

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Stone Cold.

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Summary: You and Emily have been dating for over 2 years but that all ends when out of nowhere she breaks up with you. This is your journey of trying to get over her and finding out the reason for the break up in the time of around 2 months.

Warnings: angst, little to no comfort, bad writing, swearing,

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Gn!reader, Emily Prentiss x JJ, platonic!Penelope Garcia x Gn!reader

Word count: around 3k words

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes or if this moves too fast I am fairly new to writing.

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Stone cold, stone cold

You see me standing, but I'm dying on the floor

After Emily broke up with you, you were a wreck for days. You asked Hotch for some time off and he, unhappily, gave you two weeks off without pay. You knew that he didn’t like being a member short especially if you had a case, but it was an emergency. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Everything was going fine until a month ago when she became distant, not answering your non-work calls and texts. It confused you to no end. Ever since you and Emily started dating she always made sure to text you back, to come check on you after work, and to go out for lunch with you.

All of that was gone, and at first you didn’t think much of it, or maybe you were too scared to ask in case your overthinking thoughts were right this time.

Then one day, one particularly hard day after a long and tiring case Emily Prentiss showed up at your door. You were confused, but relieved, maybe it was going to go back to normal? Maybe she came to explain her behavior and apologize? Boy were you wrong.

“We need to talk.” Her expression was stone cold, you couldn’t read her. Hell you hardly could on a normal day, but today it was extra hard.

“What-” You cleared your throat when you heard your voice crack. What is it?”

“Better for you if we sit down.” With that she walked into your small apartment, the memories of your happy relationship came flooding into her head.

As you sat down on the couch you noticed her linger next to the photos of the two of you on the beach, during your vacation. A soft smile gracing her lips made you less worried. All thoughts about her needing to break up with you left you, and you sat there waiting on her with ease.

“This is not something that is easy to do, and I hope you don’t hate me…” Emilys voice faltered at the end of the sentence. Picking up her gaze from the floor she eyed your face with guilt.

With a small smile you let out a chuckle. “I’m sure I won't, love.”

“And I’m sure you will.” Echoed in Emilys’ head as she let out a breath, sitting down next to you. “I… I don’t love you anymore.”

Your heart rate picked up as you stared at her with your eyes wide open, both in shock and hurt. You didn’t know what to do exactly, do you cry? Scream? Beg for her to stay? Get angry with her? No one prepared you for this moment, and without any pointers you weren’t sure how to act.

“Oh.”

“Oh? I thought- I thought you’d be mad!” She stood up quickly, her face changing from guilty to annoyed.

“Well what do you want me to do Emily? I can’t control you. You’re your own person.” Shrugging, you kept your eyes on the spot that she had just been occupying. You didn’t hear a reply from her, instead you heard a loud banging sound, notifying you that she had left.

When you couldn’t hear her angry footsteps anymore you broke down. The love of your life just left you after admitting that she didn’t feel anything for you anymore.

That day you cried the whole time, you don’t think there was a moment where tears weren’t streaming down your cheeks.

Stone cold, stone cold

Maybe if I don't cry, I won't feel anymore

When the second week of your temporary leaving started to come to an end you decided to stop. Stop crying. Stop obsessing over Emily. Stop caring.

You got out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, wanting to make yourself a good and healthy breakfast.

After that you took a long and steamy shower, you loved the way it made your muscles relax and temporarily helped you forget about your ex. Your plan was to go out for a run, test your limits, test your drive, your power.

And that is exactly what you did. You ran 21 kilometers, a half marathon. Which took you around an hour and forty minutes, give or take. By no means were you shitty at sports, but you weren’t really keen on them. Yes, you did work out a lot, but that was only due to the fact that you were obsessed with being in a good shape.

Successfully you managed to not think about Emily Prentiss and her good looks for a whole day. And you started to think that maybe you can do this, maybe you can get over this obstacle in your life and be happy again.

Stone cold, baby

God knows I try to feel

Happy for you

Know that I am, even if I

Can't understand,

Finally you were able to go back to your job that you loved dearly, even if a certain person’s name left a bitter taste in your mouth. You were ready to move past that and continue saving lives and kicking ass.

Just as you stepped into the office you were attacked with a “Welcome Back!” banner and Garcia running towards you with a tray full of colorful cupcakes. You loved her baking, sometimes it could even match Rossi’s, which was a huge compliment.

“OH! EM! GEE! You’re back my lovely, little pumpkin!” With one hand around you and one hand still holding the pastries, she jumped up a little, not being able to hold in her excitement.

She has been calling you pumpkin since last Halloween when you decided that the best idea is dressing up as a pumpkin. “A hot pumpkin” as Emily said it. Speaking of Emily, your eyes searched the office area but you couldn’t find her. Weird.

“I heard about everything, and I wanted to apologize that I wasn’t there for you, but we had a big case and it took a toll on me and you said to leave you alone and I did but I wanted to –”

You cut her off by engulfing her into a deep hug, having to lean into her more since you were taller. She was truly one of your best friends, in work and out of work. You wouldn’t know what to do without her.

Clearing your throat you pull away, being back face to face with Penelope handing you the plate with the cupcakes. “I know that you don’t usually eat unhealthy food like this but I think moments like these call for stuff like this. Y’know?’

“Thank you babes, you’re an angel. Did y’know that?” Kissing her on the cheek you walked further in, setting all your belongings on the desk, Garcia following you.

“There is something you must know.”

“What is it?”

“Em –”

But she was cut off by Derek yelling out your name from the entrance, his sunglasses on top of his head and his arm around Spencer. The two men smiling widely at you, you guys were close but not as close as you and your little hacker girl.

“It’s been so long, why didn’t you come in sooner?” As per usual Reid looked at you with a very confused gaze, his eyes traveling towards the cupcakes. “Are these yours? You don’t usually eat stuff like this, is everything all right? Did someone die?”

The sweet concern in his voice made you chuckle lowly, standing up as you went to greet the both of them. “Dr. Reid! No one died. I’m just going through some things, nothing major though.”

He nodded and Garcia gave you a knowing look, one that informed you that Emily didn’t tell everyone about the two of you breaking up. Which was so not like her.

“Hey, have you seen Prentiss? She’s usually one of the first ones here.” Hotch asked while walking towards us from his office, Rossi close behind. The latter gives you a sorrowful look.

“Mmm nope, haven't seen her.” Derek was the first one to speak up, quickly followed by the rest that denied seeing her.

“Okay well we can’t wait for long, we have a case.”

Nodding we all walked into the briefing office, sitting down in our seats we waited for JJ to walk in with the remote to the TV while giving us the run down of the case. Seeing as she didn’t appear, Hotch told Pen to present for us.

After we were done he was basically fuming, with the two girls gone we were down two agents on field and that was a dangerous situation for us to be in.

“Does anyone know where the hell –”

Loud and happy laughter from the entrance drowned his words out, all of us turning to see who it was. Your heart shattered for the second time in the past month, seeing them so happy, so free. Without any care they stride into this place, arms around each other with visible lipstick marks on the others lips. It all made sense now, and you were a fool for not seeing it earlier.

Either that, or you were so scared that you didn’t want to see it.

I'll take the pain

Give me the truth, me and my heart

We'll make it through

If happy is her, I'm happy for you

“I just want to know how long.”

“How long what?”

“Don’t act dumb Prentiss.” Her name rolled off your tongue with pure venom, your eyes narrowing down at her. “How long have you had feelings for that homewrecker?”

“Don’t.” Rolling her eyes she made a move to walk out of the small room but you stopped her with a small shove.

“No, you don't get to just walk out after you broke my heart. I deserve answers Emily.” You kept your voice a mere whisper but every new word came out with more pressure.

She sighed heavily, grabbing her head with her hands. You knew that she felt even more guilty than she did that night, but you couldn’t care less. She broke your heart, so she’s in no position of denying you answers.

“It was… Probably two months ago.”

“Two- Two MONTHS AGO?”

“Keep your voice down.”

With a scoff you pulled your hand away from her reach as she tried to get a hold of you. “Look, I would’ve understood if you broke up with me the minute you figured out you loved another. But you– you waited two months. Two fucking months Prentiss.”

Looking at her with disgust you shook your head, not believing any sorry ass excuse that came out of her mouth. “I hope that you’re happy with her.” This time, you left her.

Stone cold, stone cold

You're dancing with her, while I'm staring at my phone

Penelope told you that going out for drinks with the team would brighten you up. But she must’ve forgotten that if she meant team, she also meant Jennifer And Prentiss. So you told her no a million times but finally caved in after she told you that the first two rounds were on her.

“I am going to get laid tonight.”

“And how do you know that?” The blonde looked at me from her seat as she sipped her sweet drink.

“Well it hasn’t been even five minutes and that dark haired woman over there has been eyeing me up and down.”

Pen giggled and looked over where the mentioned girl was sitting. Gasping, she looked back at you and nodded eagerly. “Oh you’re so getting that pussy Pumpkin.”

“Who’s getting who’s pussy now?” Derek’s deep voice came from behind you which made you jump in surprise. “Sorry.” He patted you on the back as you began to lightly choke.

“Now back to my question, who’s getting laid?”

“This charmer over here.” You blushed while rolling your eyes softly.

“Eh, it’s not even certain. It’s just that this lady has been staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

Derek whooped quietly as he said something along the lines of going to get a drink and find Spencer.

“I’m telling you, if the doctor won’t hit it, I will.” You laughed at her words as you fell into small gossip in your own, two-person bubble.

Which burst when she left to order another round for the two of you. As you waited, you scanned the small club, your eyes lingering at the woman near the bar that seemed to be now occupied with someone else. Well there goes your choice.

Moving on your gaze falls onto the dance floor, seemingly being pulled onto the blonde and dark haired woman dancing together. Dancing like there was no tomorrow, moving their bodies like they’re one, not ones to shy away from an accidental intimate touch.

Clenching your jaw, you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. You knew this was a bad idea, and that just proved it. Standing up you brought one of your hands to your eyes to wipe them away as you walked out of the noisy place. Breathing in the fresh air you told yourself that she wasn’t worth it, that you deserved better. But you’d be lying if you said that you believed those words.

Stone cold, stone cold

I was your amber, but now she's your shade of gold

You noticed that ever since they got together Emily has been so much happier. She’d always come in with a bright smile and two coffees in her hand, sometimes you’d even look up hope stirring in your eyes, thinking that one is for you and all of this was one big nightmare, that is until she walks towards JJ and gives her a quick kiss along with her coffee.

Since the day she broke up with you, you counted that your heart broke approximately fifty-four times in the span of two months. Which is probably not a healthy amount, especially since you told yourself that you were moving on, that you were going to forget about Emily.

It’s easier said than done, because every day when you see the two of them you imagine yourself in her arms. That it’s you who’s making her laugh, causing her to blush profoundly and stare at her phone while biting her lip, cheering her up after a long and tiring case, that it’s your shoulder that she rests her head on. Not her.

Sometimes you couldn’t sleep longer than most nights. And it was only because of one question. One simple question that you never got the answer to. “Why her not me?”

Is she prettier? Funnier? Bolder? More confident? Would she prefer if I had a good up-bringing like JJ? Was she embarrassed of you? Disgusted by you?

All these questions made you more insecure than before. You started to hide your body more, even on hot days you’d cover every inch of your skin. No one questioned it and when they shot you a look of concern you’d simply look away. If Emily didn’t see you as something beautiful like a diamond or gold, then it meant you weren’t and you had to accept it.

You would always be simple amber to Emily Prentiss

Unlike Jennifer Jareau who was her gold.

Don't wanna be stone cold, stone

I wish I could mean this, but here's my goodbye

You softly ran your finger across the picture that had the whole team on it. A smile was gracing your lips but your eyes couldn't stop the tears from flowing. That's how you ended up sitting at your desk, crying like a baby. You were so deep into your meltdown that you didn’t hear the frantic feet that moved closer and closer towards you.

You didn’t recognize the person until they leaned in, your nose catching the perfume you once loved. Emily.

Pulling yourself up, you wiped the tears that were left on your cheeks as you looked up at her with a fake smile. “Can I help you with anything agent Prentiss?”

“Uhm– Are you okay? You were literally crying not even a second ago.” Before you could reply she gave you a stern look that shut you up. “And don’t even try and lie to me, I know all your tricks.”

“It’s nothing. Really.” You held up your hands when you saw her narrow her eyes at you, giving you the famous “Prentiss when she knows you’re lying” look. Sighing while you put the picture in a box, keeping your head down.

“I requested for a transfer and they agreed. The only person who was supposed to know was Hotch, but I guess you caught me in a bad time.” laughing lightly you tried to steady your breathing, knowing that having another breakdown in front of Emily was not something that you wanted to do.

“What? What the hell? Why did you do that?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t go to work without being reminded of you, I can’t stand the two of you always snuggling or sharing secret kisses here and there. Always caring for each other even when the moment doesn’t call for it. I–” Taking a deep breath you finally looked into her eyes. “I can’t stand to see the love of my life with another. So this is a goodbye.”

You stood up slowly, grabbing the box and leaning it against your left hip. Your gaze traveled back to the dark haired woman, catching her already staring at you. Not really knowing what to do, you leaned in planting a soft and brief kiss on her cheek.

“Goodbye Emily Prentiss.”

If happy is her. If happy is her. I'm happy for you.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss angst #hurt/no comfort #criminal minds #penelope garcia #penelope garcia being the bestest friend ever #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #emotional cheating #no usage of y/n #gn reader #female reader #male reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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yondiii · 18 days

Text

Hey yall,

So im writing a Spencer reid fic, its very long and it wont be out for another little while but i was wondering,

Do yall want PURE ANGST like zero comfort or do you want a little kidnapped but recovered and spencer confesses or something lmk, bc if yall pic pure angst ill make the most gut wrenching angst on earth (as much as i can anyway)

also i have this father like character sooooo

do we want a betrayal by him or do we want someone else to betray the reader

pls lmk word count is about 2k rn and im trying to get it up to 10k but i need to know what yall want

do yall want this to be a series or a full fic???

i’m so indecisive

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somber-sapphic · 1 year

Text

An Angel In Disguise

After taking care of a sick Reid he repays you with the same nasty cold he had. Who will take care of you? (jennifer jareau x reader)

Word Count: 1718

-----

You awoke to the sound of your alarm screeching on your bedside table, demanding to be dealt with. A soft groan escaped your lips, but it quickly turned to a bone rattling cough as you shifted to slap the offending machine. Unfortunately, the movement sent a wave of dizziness through your head that sent spots blurring in your vision.

The idea of calling in sick made your blood boil, but you had no idea if you could make it to the bathroom, muchless to work. Never before had you realized that sitting up could be such a miserable task. Not only did the dizziness return tenfold, but so did an insane amount of pain that you truly were not prepared for.

Before you could stop it, you found yourself slipping onto the floor, your body taken over by yet another fit of hacking coughs. When Spencer had come in with a cold you’d figured that you’d end up with it.

As much as the boy genius avoided getting sick, it was inevitable and when he was sick, he was an absolute nightmare. He tried to push through, but by hour three he was a sniveling, whining mess. Eventually, you’d gone to Hotch and taken him home, where you’d sat by his side for hours until he fell asleep. He was the team's baby, any of them would have done exactly the same thing.

You’d felt the cold coming on two days ago and loaded up on NyQuil when you went to bed in hopes of kicking it, but it was pretty clear that it hadn’t worked. You sniffled thickly and decided that the floor was a comfortable, reasonable place to sleep. With your last bit of energy you grabbed your fuzzy blanket and your phone so that you could make the call from where you currently lay.

“Hotchner.” The stern man answered, sounding as grouchy as ever. Rather than the coherent sentence you had planned to speak, you sneezed into the receiver, followed by a little whimper. Your throat felt like it was being ripped apart.

“Um…hi Hotch. It’s Y/l/n…I dont think I can make it in today.” Wow, you sounded like someone had stuffed cotton balls up your nose after forcing you to gargle with glass. This was not going to be a good day.

“Y/l/n, you sound terrible. Have you taken your temperature? Have you taken any medicine?” You rolled your eyes, but that only made your brain hurt. It seemed like you couldn’t move at all without something in your useless body hurting.

“You’re my boss, not my dad. I’ll be in tomorrow.” You sniffled and wiped your nose on your blanket, which did absolutely nothing for you. All you wanted was for this stupid phone call to be over so that you could sleep. You could already feel yourself slipping out of consciousness which was further confirmed when Hotch called your name.

“Y/n? Are you still there?” He used your first name. Were you in trouble? No, that didn’t make sense. You hadn’t shot anybody you weren’t supposed to. You hummed an affirmative and waited for him to continue.

“Okay. You’ll be taking at least three days off. Come in when you feel 100%. Twenty four hours after your fever has broken. Understood?” He sounded like a dad. He was a dad. Too much of a dad. It made you feel lonely, you wanted someone to come hold you like he probably did for his son.

“M’kay. Night Hotch.” He chuckled quietly and you could picture him shaking his head at you. At least that felt normal.

“Goodnight Y/n. Please take care of yourself.” You hummed again, too tired to make more small talk. Talking hurt, so did being awake. Your eyelids felt heavy and you cuddled into your blanket, overtaken by a new level of exhaustion. You’d gone days without sleeping and been sort of fine, but this dumb cold was completely wiping you out.

With a final sigh and painful cough, you drifted in a fever-addled sleep. The dreams were insane. Your dreamscape swirled around you, demons and monsters chasing you with gaping mouths and tears dripping with blood.

Faces of people you couldn’t save flashed in and out of your mind, followed by their killers. You screamed, unable to make a sound. Every time you tried to run, you were hunted down. They never killed you, just tortured you. Made you feel how you imagined their original victims must’ve felt.

Your lungs were bursting, tears racing down your cheeks. His hands were around your throat, sucking all of the air from your body. Then, a different sensation. A comforting sensation. A soft palm on your cheek, fingers combing through your hair. Someone was speaking to you, their voice gentle and sweet. The voice drove away the terror, drove away the nightmares. Brought you back into the real world.

You blinked slightly, staring up at the blurry figure, surrounded by a ring of golden waves. An angel. An angel had saved you. She pulled you out of that terrifying place, back into the much more comfortable reality. You were freezing, your chest ached, you couldn’t breathe through your nose, your limbs were stiff, but you weren’t afraid. Because she was there.

“There she is.” The angel cooed, bending down to kiss your forehead. When she pulled back you saw her face clearly. JJ. JJ was here. She was real. You smiled slightly and reached up, trying to touch her pretty hair. The blonde caught your hand and kissed your fingers, her baby blues full of relief.

“You scared me. I called you four times. Everyone called you. Next time you fall asleep on the floor, maybe let someone know? So that you don't die?” She scolded, easing your head into her lap. You whimpered slightly, the simple movement causing agony. JJ made a sympathetic sound and stroked your hair, her face contorting into a concerned expression.

“Okay baby, we’ve gotta get you into bed. It’ll be way more comfy then this floor.” She said softly, hooking an arm around your waist. You tried to help, but your body just wasn’t working right. Tears slipped down your cheeks but she continued to work, eventually getting you into bed.

When you were finally laying on the comfortable surface, she wiped away the tears, trying to make you feel better. She was sitting on the bed beside you, both of your cheeks cupped in her warm hands.

“Oh, honey you’re burning up. Have you been on the floor all day?” You nodded, a small sob escaping your lips. You were doing everything you could not to cry, but it just all hurt so much. You hated that you were so weak, it was just a cold but here you were, bawling in your girlfriend's arms. You just felt so bad.

“Y/n, you’re miserable. Stop degrading yourself. Spence probably felt just as bad as you do, and you held his hand the entire time. This clearly isn’t just a cold. The flu’s pretty nasty right now.” Apparently you’d said those things out loud. If not, JJ could read your mind. You wouldn’t be surprised if she just profiled it out of you.

“N-no profiling me!” You rasped, making her laugh. She kissed your hairline, which was no doubt sweaty, and hugged your head against her chest.

“No more, I promise. Now, will you lay down and let me help?” You nodded, allowing her to tuck you in with your favorite blanket and a fond look. “Okay. I’m going to grab the thermometer and some medicine. Can you stay awake for me?”

You pushed your head into the pillow by way of response, letting out a huge yawn. She squeezed your shoulder and you heard her leave the room. The second she was gone, your eyes fell shut. It was too hard to stay awake.

When JJ came back into the room, she couldn’t help but smile. You were snoring quietly, your head almost invisible under the blanket she had laid over you. It seemed that it had taken you less than five minutes to fall asleep. With your pink nose, flushed cheeks and soft, sleepy snores, you were absolutely adorable.

She came to sit beside you on the edge of the bed and slipped the thermometer into your mouth, discovering you were still slightly awake when you cracked an eye open to glare at her. She smiled and carded her fingers through your hair, lulling you back into a comfortable daze.

“Aw, baby 102.4. No wonder you feel so bad.” JJ murmured, already measuring the correct dose of medicine into the cap of the NyQuil. You whined loudly, knowing all too well that you sounded like a brat.

“I know, just take it like a shot.” You glared at her, but she remained cool and collected. She was going to get her way whether you liked it or not. With a frustrated sigh, you drank the damn liquid, cringing as it hit your tastebuds.

“Why is it called grape?” You rasped, burying your head back under your pile of blankets. JJ chuckled softly, somehow amused by your pain. “I’m gonna lick Spencer.” That got a real laugh. A laugh that made your insides feel warm, almost like being sick was worth it because you got to spend time with this beautiful woman.

“I’ll let him know. Close your eyes honey, I’ll make soup when you wake up.” She promised, beginning to move off of the bed. You grabbed her wrist, not wanting to be alone.

“Stay?” You mumbled, your voice barely audible. You shifted your head from the pillow to her shoulder, deciding that it was much more comfortable. She wrapped slender arms around you and hugged you tight, stroking your hair as you cuddled close.

“Better?” You nodded. She made everything better. The blonde kissed your hair, acting every bit like the doting girlfriend she was. She was perfect. There was no one else you trusted more.

“You’ll get sick.”

“I got my flu shot. Call this a lesson in procrastination.” You grumbled tiredly and sniffled, wishing that you had remembered the flu shot. Still, you blamed Spencer. You would definitely be licking him in the future.

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natasharomanoffslover · 1 year

Text

Masks off

Jennifer (JJ) jareau x Emily Prentiss

Tw: internalized homophobia

Summary: JJ has a hard time coming to terms with her sexuality.

___________________________________________________

It started off slow, so slow that she didn’t even notice at first. She just chalked it off as nerves.

JJ was tasked with briefing and showing around the new agent, Emily Prentiss. When there was four sharp knocks at her office door, she called out for the women to come in. Her heart dropped for a moment and her stomach clenched.

Nerves. It’s what she told herself. But when she looked at the way Emily’s lips moved up to make a obviously rehearsed smile or her eyes moved around the room taking in the new environment she couldn’t help but stare.

The way Emily’s shirt hugged her skin or the way no hair was out of place, it made JJ’s skin crawl.

It happened again when Emily started to speak Arabic. She was so smart and already caught the eye of Gideon, which was a hard thing to accomplish.

Again though, it had to be nerve. She just missed her friend. Elle was gone and now a new agent was in her spot. In her chair; at her desk.

That’s all. Obviously.

As Emily spent more time as a member of the team, JJ learned to suppress the feelings and Emily and herself became inseparable.

Every now and then the feelings and awkwardness would come back though.

After a tiring case they went up to their motel room, that they had to share. The motel rooms they shared is where JJ truly got to know Emily. The real Emily. Trip by trip JJ felt herself pulling pieces of Emily’s guard down.

It was around midnight and they both were wobbling around exhausted and probably smelly.

“I call showering first!” Emily exclaimed. JJ laughed and obliged.

The double bathroom doors were wooden with class stripes in the middle. JJ seemed to be more concerned about that than Emily did because when JJ looked up from unpacking her pajamas she saw a glimpse of Emily’s naked hip.

Immediately she looked away but the feeling in her stomach remained for a while.

It happened again on the jet when Emily fell asleep on JJ’s shoulder. At first it made JJ chuckle. Derek made a comment about how her neck was going to hurt when she woke up. Then it made JJ concerned. So she gently woke Emily up.

“Hey Em, put your legs up.” She whispered, as not the disturb her anymore then she’d already done.

Sleepily Emily did as she was told so her upper body fell to JJ’s lap. Looking at Emily it brought up feelings JJ had tried to suppress.

Now it made JJ uncomfortable. Looking at the women who always had a mask on, take that mask off made JJ’s stomach flip. Emily’s guard was down and she looked at peace.

JJ thought it was a beautiful picture.

She thought it was in her head. But then she caught Emily’s longing glances or the kind and thoughtful tasks she did that JJ never had to ask for.

Their hands touched a lot. To much to be accidental.

She found herself caring for Emily a exceptional amount. More than a normal friend. When Emily went into that basement and she got hit in the head with that piece of wood, JJ didn’t leave her side.

Wouldn’t even let her go home alone. She showed up to her apartment with take out and a hug. They spent the night watching movies and giggling. Their hands touched a lot then but the alcohol she’d drink prior prevented her from caring so much.

She actually forgot why she cared so much in the first place. Emily moved to snuggle closer as she got tired and JJ leaned down to kiss her nose.

Emily sat up. The last pieces of the mask protecting Emily from pain disappeared. Looking directly at JJ, Emily kissed her back. It was soft and sweet.

Soon they drifted off to sleep together. When JJ woke up she was alone. She couldn’t clearly remember what had happened last night (or that’s what she told herself at least) but she can remember the feelings she had.

Has.

No. It’s wrong. Not right, she thought. It’s gross and unnatural. When Emily got back from the bathroom, she immediately recognized the withdrawal so she matched the energy.

The morning ended awkwardly.

Eventually JJ met Will. She thought she liked him. She hadn’t thought about Emily in that way for a long time. She was just confused.

She loved Will, she realized that now and her and Emily were good. Best friends. Only.

Now she’s pregnant. JJ had always wanted to have kids. Everything was perfect. Will proposed and they went to a courthouse the next morning. Afterwards they had a small get together. Everything Was perfect, until she had to go and mess it up.

Emily and Reid were being held captive. JJ couldn’t function; she couldn’t breath or think. All she thought about was Emily.

They all heard her getting beaten and she thought she was going to be sick. When the building blew up she saw Reid stumble out and she hugged him tightly but Emily didn’t come out.

Reid and her walked forward, holding their breath.

JJ, who was not allowed to go farther than a few feet due to her very pregnant belly ran (to the best of her ability) when she saw a brunette women emerge from the rubble.

Derek reached her first and they walked over to where her and Reid were being held back.

Emily immediately embraced Reid in a hug, then turned to JJ.

Their hug was different. Intimate and long.

“Im so glad your okay.” JJ whispered in Emily’s neck.

It was that night she realized what she was. Who she was. It scared her to no end. It made her head hurt to think about the logistics and consequences of her stupid feelings.

She made a commitment, was starting a family. JJ laid next to her husband and she cried. When he asked what was wrong she lied. JJ knew she had to tell Will and she wouldn’t cheat on him anymore than she already is.

JJ went to go talk to Emily. It didn’t end well.

Once JJ told Emily how she felt, she broke out a huge smile. She cupped JJ’s face and leaned in to kiss her. Emily let go when JJ pulled away before she could kiss her. And embarrassed blushed creeped up Emily’s neck.

“When are you gonna tell Will?” She questioned, hopefully.

JJ looked back at her confused, “I can’t tell him.” She let go of Emily’s hands.

“JJ-“ Emily started.

“No Emily you don’t get it, I can’t.” Her tone raised.

“JJ then why did you tell me?” Emily too raised her tone. Before JJ could speak again she continued. “I’ve been waiting for you for nearly three years. Now you tell me you love me and want to be with me, but you can’t tell Will.”

“So why the hell did you tell me? Just to make me feel like more of an idiot for falling in love with a straight girl?!” Emily yelled.

JJ being pregnant and hormonal she felt her eyes water before leaving Emily’s apartment abruptly.

JJ gave birth to Henry and went to start her maternity leave with Will. She felt so guilty for the way she was. For what she was doing to Will and Emily but this break gave her time to gain perspective.

A few weeks in to her maternity leave, she went to visit the team. To show off the baby and see how her team was doing. Emily seemed to be okay around her. Her eyes swam with silent apologies whenever they made eye contact.

JJ snuck off with Hotch, leaving the baby with the rest of the group. In his office, she sat on his couch and he sat next to her.

“What’s wrong JJ?” He questioned.

“I um I think-“ she sighs cutting herself off. “My mom sent me to this Christian camp for girls when I was younger.”

“I didn’t remember why or what even happed until a few weeks ago. It was to brainwash queer girls into being straight.” She gaged the look on his face before continuing but when it was the same as it was before she kept going.

“She caught me with my friend, Aniya Anderson in the 7th grade and I thought being with a girl was unnatural and gross but..”

“But now all I wanna do is be with one.”

“Is there one in particular?” He questioned, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Yeah.” She whispered. “But I don’t know what to do because of Will and Henry. Hotch please tell me what to do.”

“Jayje, you already know what to do. And whatever you do the team and myself will support it. Including Emily.” He patted her shoulder, comfortably.

“I don’t wanna hurt him. Or disappoint her, I’m the only daughter she has left.” JJ found herself tearing up.

“You shouldn’t be hurt anymore also. Being with someone you don’t love and hating yourself will just end your marriage anyway. But it’ll be longer and more painful. You’ve got to think of yourself, not your mother.”

He knits his eyebrows together and adds, “if your mother doesn’t approve then do you really want her in your life anyway?”

JJ knows what she has to do now.

She shakes her head no. “Thanks Hotch.” She whips a few tears from her cheeks and stands.

“Now let’s go back before Derek drops him or something.” Hotch wraps a arm around JJ.

JJ tells Will that they need to talk. JJ’s head spins along with her stomach as the nerves threaten to eat her alive.

They sit on the couch, and already tears are escaping JJ’s eyes. Will places a hand on JJ’s cheek, tenderly.

“What’s the matter love?“ he says with a think Louisiana accent and the nickname makes JJ cry more.

She tells him the story of the church conversion camp and he lovingly rubs her back. She starts with an apology. So many apologies.

“JJ you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses her cheek.

“I’m in love with Emily.” She just blurts out.

The silence is thick and painful.

Will looks stunned and hurt.

“I didn’t know, when I first met you, I truly thought I loved you romantically but I just.. I can’t. Will I’m so so sorry.” More tears fell from her eyes as she felt her mask peel off her skin. Completely showing herself to the world.

After a few moments of silence JJ begged wills to say something, anything.

“I’m sorry that happened to you JJ.. and I’m not mad I just.. I’m processing.” He looked at the wall in front of him and JJ felt the comforting hand he had on her shoulder vacate.

“We will work this out so Henry has two present parents… we can still be friends right?” Will chuckled before a few tears also escaped his eyes.

“Yes of course we will.” JJ engulfed him a tight hug.

Four sharp knocks on Emily’s door made her leave her couch to see who it was. She was surprised to see JJ.

JJ could only imagine how bad she looked. Her eyes swollen and red; her face puffy. Emily looked concerned and confused when she opened the door.

Once JJ was face to face with Emily she reached her hands to cup Emily’s face.

“My turn.” She whispered and leaned into kiss Emily. This kiss wasn’t as soft and sweet. It was desperate and hot.

Pulling way for air, Emily questioned JJ with her eyes.

“I told Will.” She said out of breath, close to Emily’s face, and still holding on to her as if she would float away.

“And?” Emily smiled,

“And I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.” JJ pulled Emily in for another kiss, then both smiling though out it.

With time both women’s masks were fully removed, no longer hiding from each other. From themselves.

#internalized homophobia #criminal minds #hurt/comfort #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #will lamontagne #jemily #jj x emily #jennifer jareau x emily prentiss #gay #coming out

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spencermyangel · 2 years

Note

for a writing prompt the bau going to Spencer's apartment looking for him and just find him buried in a big pile of plush toys and pillows he's been giving.

CW - Depression and drug addiction references

“Spence? Open up, please,” JJ knocked at the door of his apartment, the rest of the team behind her. Spencer hadn’t shown up for work this morning and wasn’t answering his phone. When there was no response JJ pulled out the key Spencer had given her for his apartment.

The team shuffled into the apartment, worry evident on all of their faces.

“Reid!” Morgan shouted as he entered Spencer’s bedroom. His brows furrowed in confusion at the giant pile of plushies and pillows piled on Spencer’s bed. He approached Spencer’s bed where he discovered Reid curled up under the plushies with headphones over his ears.

Morgan gently nudged Spencer’s shoulder, causing Spencer’s eyes to fly open as he flinched away.

“Morgan!” Spencer almost shouted, “you scared me!”

“Yeah, well, you scared us,” Morgan chuckled, “why aren’t you answering your phone, pretty boy.”

The rest of the team all entered the room at the sound of Morgan and Reid’s voices.

Spencer eyed them and began blushing, “what are you all doing here?”

“We were worried,” Emily told him, her eyes telling him she still was, “are you okay?”

Spencer looked down and considered what to say. It was never a good idea to lie to profilers. He sighed, “I’m just not having a good day. Everything just feels depressing and wrong… and I’m, uh, craving,” he whispered the final part.

Hotch quickly made a decision, “we don’t have a lot of work to do today. No case, and we’re all caught up on paperwork, how about we just have a um…”

“Team bonding day?” Garcia finished for him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

Hotch nodded, and the team smiled. Rossi turned on one of Spencer’s favourite movies as the team all made themselves comfortable. The girls managed to convince Spencer to let them braid his hair. Spencer didn’t admit it but he secretly loved when they would do his hair.

As the movie played, the team had taken notice of the different plushies and pillows. Garcia seeing a bananya plush she had given him. Morgan spotted a teddy bear he had randomly found at some dollar store in Florida, he had gotten it because it was wearing a sweater vest and glasses. He had given it to Reid more to tease him, but it was obvious Spencer cherished it. Rossi saw the lion blanket he got him. And JJ saw the dino plush Henry had once gifted to Spencer. Emily even saw the small doll she had found at a park and had jokingly handed it to Reid, she had no idea he had kept it. Hotch felt his heart warm as he saw the weighted lizard plush he had given him.

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer reid fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #hurt/comfort

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criminalmindsfanantic · 1 year

Text

Never again, mon merle. You have my word. | JJ x Emily

Summary: JJ and Emily spend Thanksgiving in East Allegheny with JJ’s family. Things go horribly and Emily is ready to throw hands with her mother-in-law.

Tags: f/f, hurt/comfort, angst, ref emotional/psychological abuse, holiday fic, family issues, lesbian emily prentiss.

read on ao3

excerpt below

In the five minutes she had left JJ alone with Sandy, the two had managed to provoke each other enough for them to clearly be giving each other the silent treatment.

“Can I help, Mrs. Jareau?” Emily asked, using the uncharacteristically peppy tone she used on her own mother in social situations.

“Sandy is just fine dear, and I think Jennifer and I have things covered in here.” Sandy replied, returning the sickly-sweet tone.

“Mom, I’ve asked you to stop calling me that.” JJ warned, dangerously close to snapping again. “Everyone calls me JJ.”

“I named you Jennifer, not JJ. I don’t know why you insist on making a fuss.” Sandy griped, her expression turning sour.

“You’re the one making a fuss. I simply asked you to respect my request to call me JJ.”

JJ set down the knife she was using to cut the tops off strawberries, releasing a long slow breath from her puffed out cheeks as she did. It was a method she used to keep calm when she was thoroughly frustrated.

“I’ve called you Jennifer all your life because that’s what I named you.” Sandy hissed, careful not to raise her voice enough that the boys would be able to hear from the living room. “Why should I call you something different now? You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Decency, Mom. It’s common decency. And I did have a problem with it before. I told you I wanted to be called JJ after-” JJ stopped, the rest of her sentence hanging in the air like a heavy fog. After Roslyn died. “I told you when I was 12 and you didn’t listen.”

The room went quiet again. Sandy huffed and turned around to resume her preparation of the turkey, also going back to ignoring her daughter. JJ stared up at the ceiling for a moment, her arms folded tightly across her chest, then released a heavy breath of her own and returned her focus back to cutting fruit. Emily could see tears that had formed in her wife’s eyes but were held back if only by sheer determination. The interaction she had just witnessed between her wife and mother-in-law broke her heart.

She knew it wasn’t her place, but Emily wished she could make Sandy listen, make her see how much she was hurting her daughter. It was in times like these that Emily hated being a profiler because she had noticed the similarities between the two Jareau women, and not all of them were good. Many of JJ’s mannerisms, her behaviors, her bad habits even had either been inherited from her mother or trait she learned because of living with her mother. Deciding her presence in the kitchen was useless, Emily headed to the living room to watch the football game with her sons.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #cm #jemily #incorrect criminal minds #chaoticbau #jemily angst #fanfic #ao3 #read on ao3 #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #jareau620

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pathologicalreid · 6 months

Note

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

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thesiriusmoon · 11 months

Text

First Case

Summary: Bonnie is invited to assist on her first case, and got more than what she was expecting.

Characters: Bonnie McBride (OC), Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Jason Gideon

AU: Criminal Minds

Episode: Own

Word count: 4.9K

A/N: I make a lot of stuff up in this so just go with it! I make facts up a lot lol

TW: detail of blood and gore

Reblogs and likes help me a lot!! Help a little account out <3

——————————

“Wheels up in thirty.” Agent Hotchner announced and Bonnie could have hit the roof and landed in Seattle already not having needed to use the jet.

It had been three months this she started her new job as the BAU’s (Agents Hotchners) assistant and she’d been invited to assist on a case. Not as a profiler or an agent, but to help out. Sort things, write down information, and keep up to date. Like a walking talking diary for the team.

Her go bag has been ready since her first day and followed Emily closely towards the jet, it was magnificent. She’d never imagine she’d ever step foot in something like this.

“You like it?” Emily asked knowingly, and Bonnie chuckled.

“It’s amazing.”

“Very comfy too!”

And the two entered and found a seat.

The rest of the team followed shortly and she thought it was a bit cramped for seven people, but it was fine none the less.

“Three killings, all stabbed and had their hair cut off, all dumped around the Livingstone park. Within four weeks. Which means around one killing per week.” Agent Hotchner read from his file, one that each agent had been given by Jennifer and Bonnie began writing in her notepad.

“The hair means something to him. Women love their hair, this dude hates women. So what does he do? Take away their identity and their looks. He’s angry and wants them to feel as low as he does.” Derek waded in, and by instinct Bonnie stroked her own hair. She did love hers. It was unique. Bright orange when the sun shone down on her, and cool ginger when there was no light. She’d hate to have it all cut off or lose it somehow.

“I think he knows the area. That park is two thousand acres, he can cover a lot of ground.” Said Emily.

“Are we sure it’s a guy? I mean, it seems like it could be jealousy. Possibly a woman who doesn’t see herself as pretty or well liked and she attacks attractive women then defiles something that most of us care for and always want to look nice, our hair.” Jennifer commented and Agent Gideon frowned.

“You might be onto something JJ. They leave the bodies face up, no remorse for what they’ve done. It could either me a man suffering from rejection or a woman full of jealousy. We’ll have to take a closer look when we get down there.”

“Did you know that in a recent survey taken in a Las Vegas high school, girls were asked what aspect of themselves they treasure most, and the highest answer was their hair. Not their body or maybe their face, but their hair. I-I think it’s because your hair can really change the way you look. You can change your face with makeup and surgery and your body by exercising and-and eating, but it’s easier to get a haircut or dye it.” Spencer gifted the team with his extensive knowledge.

“So you think whoever’s doing this is to make their victims… ugly?” Agent Gideon questioned, looking down to Spencer who nodded.

“Possibly.”

“Well all the girls do look kinda similar. Dark hair, blue eyes, skinny.” Derek had said before Agent Hotchner spoke.

“When we arrive I want Reid, Morgan, JJ, down at the police station find out anything you can about what’s been done. Gideon, and Prentiss, and I will visit the dump site.” He closed the conversation swiftly, along with his file.

“What will I do?” Bonnie asked eagerly.

Agent Hotchner thought for a moment. “Come with me. But if you feel sick or something you can head back and go to the police station with the others.”

But she swore she wouldn’t. This is what she’s preparing for. Her future. She’d have to get used to gory scenes at some point. And she wanted to prove she was capable of helping the team.

“Yes sir.”

And shortly after, the jet landed and Bonnie dug her nails into the arms of her chair, scared they would crash but had instead rolled smoothly into an airport.

Immediately, agent Hotchner, Gideon, and Emily were on their way to the Livingstone National Park, Bonnie in the backseat next to Emily.

“You ever seen a dead body before.” Emily asked suddenly and Bonnie almost laughed at how absurd that question was.

“Once.” She kept her answer short. Not wanting to give any more information about her past to the team.

It was rough growing up. Her mother and father migrated to America from Scotland when she was twenty two, Bonnie was four. Her red hair a flame and full of wonder. Her parents were convinced about the American dream, but neither of them had ever kept down a job, instead they fell down a hole of drug addiction. At the age of eighteen, her mother had found herself pregnant after a faulty condom broke, then six years later, it was her little girl who found her father laying lifeless in their apartment bathroom. A drug overdose. Since then her and her mother have been eating small plates and sometimes using cold water for showers. The apartment in which they live in now isn’t great. It needs a lot of work but neither of them have money to pay for it. Bonnie was accepted to college for outstanding grades as a young age. Child prodigy as her mother would say and tell her every day how proud she was of her. But lately she hasn’t seen her much, or heard anything similar in a couple of years.

“Who was it?”

“Emily.” Agent Hotchner had a stern look on his face and she gulped.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m sure you guys have seen lots. I’m just excited to be helping.”

Agent Gideon smiled a little. “Let’s hope you still feel that way when we’re done.”

They arrived at the park, and were welcomed by one of the rangers.

“Thank you for coming Sir. I’m Sandy Parker, head of the rangers and the park.” A broad woman possibly in her mid thirties with short red hair, a tattoo on her left arm, and a bulbous nose shook Agent Hotchners hand. She had been leaning up against a pick-up truck, the same colour as her hair.

“Thank you for letting us in. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, this here is SSA Jason Gideon, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Bonnie.”

And Bonnie. It sounded a little funny. Here’s three intelligent agents, and a kid. We’re here to solve the crime. Just like scooby doo.

“Oh my god am I the dog?” Bonnie thought to herself.

“Right this way. One of my coworkers Andy found her. He hasn’t blinked since.” Her tone was steady, deep, she must be very professional, or has seen something like this before.

As they were led through the forest, Bonnie noted how close the trees were. Not really good for entering. And she wrote it down. There had to be another entrance somewhere. It would be hard to move around in here without making a noise or dropping the body you carried.

Before she even knew it, the agents had stopped walking, and the three of them were staring downwards. So Bonnie did too, and almost vomited.

It was horrible. The girl must have been around her age. Brunette, small, skinny, but perky. That’s the ideal type isn’t it? To be thin but also have a little something going on. She knew that she want to be like that. But was rather flat, as she would put it when looking in the mirror.

The girls hair was chopped right to the scalp, bald patches shining here and there and some cuts on where the shearing had gone too close to the head.

The girls face was grey, totally lifeless. But what the worst part of it was, was that it was hardly a face. It had been mutilated with a blade.

“Fifteen stab wounds. Most to the face, some to the body which is probably what killed her.” Sandy sighed. “Poor girl. You never think something like this could ever happen to you. She was so pretty too… shame.” Sandy said staring right down at the girls bloody corpse.

In her notes, Bonnie wrote down about the overkill. The rage.

But was there hair here? On the ground? Or any blood splatters? If the girl was killed here, the hair that was cut should be here too.

“There’s no hair around here. Or blood.” She said.

“You’re right…” Agent Hotchner mumbled. “He’s not killing them here. He might be holding them.” And he flipped out his phone.

“Garcia, I need you to find missing persons report on brunette young girls, typically attractive, thin, and small.”

“She’s on it. Hopefully we can find out his type. And he might already found his next victim.”

Bonnie gulped hard.

Once there was nothing else to look at, the four began travelling back to the car through branches and twigs.

“That was some good spotting kid.” Agent Gideon made Bonnie jump.

“Oh… thank you sir.” Smiling gratefully.

“I hear your studying criminal justice?”

“Yes sir I am. I’m almost finished. I’ve been skipping a lot of grades and should be finished next year at some point.”

“Oh another genius! So tell me, what are you planning to do once you’re done?”

“FBI training.” She said proudly and Agent Gideon smiled.

“Well you’ve proven you know your stuff well. Keep it up and you’ll be in the BAU in no time. I’ll make sure of it. That’s how Spencer got in! Knew him when he was studying and could see his wits from miles away. Once he was done all he had to do was give me a call.”

If he was hinting at her doing the same thing, she might faint.

She’s always had a passion for justice. She was smart and wanted to use it for good. Help others. Save them. Make something of herself instead of falling into the same path are the one her mother is taking.

“So what have you found?” Agent Hotchner asked Jennifer who began filling him in on missing girl cases and had three pictures up on a clear board which Spencer was scribbling profusely on, while Derek read over the victims files.

“No sexual assault on any of them. I think JJ might be right. It might be a woman.”

Jennifer sighed. “But how is she doing it?”

“Being nice?” Bonnie suggested.

“Gaining their trust.” Said Gideon, taking a seat. “These young girls wouldn’t think twice about a woman or another young girl showing kindness would they? They’re more trustworthy than men.”

“I don’t know about you guys but I wouldn’t just walk away with a strange woman just because she’s nice to me.” Jennifer commented and Bonnie nodded her head agreeing.

Then Emily added, “Trustworthy. People of authority uh… police officers, nurses maybe, someone the public is brought up to know will help them.”

“So how’s she getting rid of the bodies.” Agent Hotchner asked the question they were all thinking.

“A car would be too small I think. Too easy to get evidence on it. So maybe a van, or a truck. Something bigger that would have space to hold someone.” Spencer spoke to the board he was staring at.

“Great. We’re ready to deliver the profile, good work guys.” Agent Hotchner left the room with the team following in his footsteps.

The whole police departement sat before them, looking up at them eagerly wanting just as much they did to catch the person doing this. Sandy from the park had also arrived. She wanted to find who was defiling her beloved park just like everyone else.

Agent Hotchner spoke first. “The person were looking for is female. All victims have been white so we feel safe to assume this unsub is too.”

Then Derek. “She’s someone trustworthy. It could be someone of the law or of some other authority. These girls don’t have to question whether or not they’re safe with the unsub.”

“She’s full of rage. These women are everything that she wants to be. Small, thin, pretty, and she’s taking her own insecurities out on them, shown by the over kill and cutting of hair.” Emily spoke up.

“So we’re looking for a woman who may not be the same age as these victims. She’s old enough to know the Livingstone area well and clever enough to plan out her attacks and kidnappings.” Said Spencer.

“That’s right. These aren’t spree killings or sudden fits of anger. These girls are being kidnapped, held, tortured, then murdered.” Agent Gideon finished, all of the detectives and officers had their mouths gaping. Sandy’s expression was sour and Bonnie couldn’t blame her. The innocence of these young girls were ripped from them cruelly. All because some bitch never learned how to love herself.

“That’s all for now. Thank you.” Agent Hotchner allowed the detectives to go back to work.

At that moment, Sandy had her phone to her ear, and looked wide eyed to Agent Hotchner. “Sir, they’ve found another body.”

“What? Already?” Bonnie followed quickly to keep up with his long strides and they ended up in the jeep, Emily and Derek in the back as Bonnie had accidentally taken the passenger seat. She could tell Derek was a little annoyed at that.

“Another body… they’re picking up the pace man.” Derek said worriedly and Agent Hotchner nodded.

“It’s weird… we were literally just there and the second we leave there’s another body… how?”

“Maybe they were watching us. They knew we were there and waited until we were gone to dump another.” Emily commented from her back seat.

Bonnie hadn’t seen anyone in the trees… maybe they were high up like a bird and she had missed it.

“Over this way!” Sandy yelled having beat them to the scene, this time in a small black car. The truck must be used for park purposes.

The team followed into the scraggly bushes, and went deep into the forest about a ten minute walk until they laid eyes on their latest victim.

Just the same as the last, but a more violent attack had occurred. The girls ear was missing, the other still intact with a dangly sapphire earring. Her face was practically gone. Mush.

“How could…” Bonnie choked and Emily lay a gently hand on her shoulder.

From the rest of her body, she looked young. Nineteen maybe twenty or eighteen. She had her whole life ahead of her and now it was nothing but ashes. They couldn’t even identify her yet…

“ID in her pocket. Drivers licence. Katy Darnwall, seventeen.” One of the officers handed Agent Hotchner the girls card with a glove. She was one of the girls on Spencer’s board.

Seventeen… possibly the youngest of the lot. Probably still in high school not yet completed her exams…

“That’s disgusting…” holding the back of her hand against her mouth, Bonnie took a deep breath while Emily squeezed her grip.

“How long has she been here?” Derek asked the officers.

“Dumped today. She’s still warm. A dog found her. He was off his leash.”

“If you like I can take you to the park station and we can call her parents.” Sandy suggested, looking down at the girl.

“No… we need to have a look around. See how the unsub got this deep in. There’s close trees, there has to be a path easier to get in.” Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned his attention to Emily and Derek.

“Split up and try and find the entrance, you too Bonnie, note down anything suspicious.”

And she obliged immediately. Anything not to look at the blood still pouring out of the young girls face.

On her way she went. Separating from the group with her notepad in hand. Writing as her mind refused to stop thinking for just a second.

“Woman… older… not very pretty, or thin.” She spoke out loud. “Truck or van…” just subconsciously, a face blinked in her mind. Sandy was a bit like that. She wasn’t trying to be mean or insulting but that’s just what the description made her think of. Maybe there’s someone living out here pretending to be a guide and luring these girls into a cabin or shed.

Bonnie had been walking through a dirt path for about ten minutes now, not even realising, and saw at the bottom of a hill was in fact, a shed. It was hard to see. Moss covered the sides and blended the building into the trees and bushes. Just like the rest of the forest, the trees were close together. Anyone walking past wouldn’t have even seen it.

But Bonnie really did love quizzes and challenges. Amazing at spot the difference and games were you had to find hidden objects in pictures that blended into its surroundings. She didn’t know what that game was called but she had named it ‘the chameleon game.’

Immediately she pulled out her phone to dial Agent Hotchners number, but no signal.

“Shit!” She cursed and turned back to the shed that looked pretty old. Shabby but… well kept. There was a garden with flowers. Tulips. And a small lake, almost like a big puddle about twenty feet away.

She couldn’t turn back now, she was afraid she’d forget her steps. So she went forward towards the shed.

Watching her footing, careful not to trip, she began her descent, and noticed there was a path to her left. That must be how this person is getting the victims out easily, instead of treading through all these branches. Another on the right near the puddle lake. Must be how they get in.

“Hey.” Bonnie’s soul almost left her body and she slipped down onto the dirty ground, covering her skirt in dry mud.

Whipping around she saw Sandy and sighed with relief, getting back to her feet. “Hey… did you know this shed was here?” She asked, pointing in the direction.

“Never seen that thing in my life.” The woman shrugged.

But she’s the head of the rangers right? She needs to know all about the park.

“How come?” She asked innocently, as anxiety began to fill her stomach, something wasn’t right.

“Just never saw it. Some of these woods are still undiscovered.”

Well that couldn’t be true. There was a map at the station for visitors so they don’t get lost. Unless this wasn’t on the map.

“Oh right… well…” she didn’t really know what to do now.

“We’ll check it out together alright? I’m here with you. Nothing to be afraid of.” Sandy’s smile had eased her, so she began to walk. Trusting her.

The closer to the shed she got, the louder the alarms were in her head. But she didn’t know what to do about them. Sandy was here, but Bonnie was beginning to doubt whether that was a good thing.

Older woman, not ideally pretty, not thin, trustworthy, authoritative, truck… it all added up and formed into the woman walking right next to her.

And… had she been following her? She was a long way away from the dump site, why hadn’t she let herself be known…

Sandy was a few steps in front of her, and Bonnie caught a glimpse of something shiny. “What’s that?” She had suddenly asked, curious on the little blue gem in Sandy’s hand, twirling between her fingers.

“Just a little something I found.”

Katy Darnwall’s missing earrings.

The look of realisation must have been clear, as Sandy smiled and approached Bonnie slowly, and once reached, took strands of her hair through her stubby fingers, admiring it in her hand.

“Y’know, in all my life I’ve actually never seen someone with ginger hair before. Must be a foreign thing. It’s very pretty. Just like you. You’re thin, small, got nice rosy cheeks.” To which she pinched Bonnies face. A little too hard and Bonnies breathing hitched.

She wanted to cry out of fear. Scream for Agent Hotchner or Emily who wouldn’t even hear her. Someone safe. Someone to save her.

“And gorgeous blue eyes! Y’know how rare it is for ginger people to have blue eyes? Only zero point two percent in the entire world has that.” She looked down at Bonnie with a twisted smile, still playing with her hair in her fingers, with her free hand she stroked her cheek.

“I bet you’ve had a lot of boyfriends huh?”

“N-no… I’ve never dated anyone.” And that was true. She didn’t have the time nor the confidence to do so.

“Oh really? Why’s that? You’re a really beautiful girl. No one would ever want to date someone like me.” Sandy laughed, a little crazed. “But you… I know everyone wants a piece of you, and I hate you!” The hair between Sandy’s fingers was yanked hair and Bonnie fell down, suddenly feeling the weight of a boulder coming down on her face.

Scared and unsure what was happening, she pushed up hard, and rolled down the rest of the hill with Sandy running behind her. Hitting her head on stones or twigs on the earthy ground until she came to a quick stop and jumped, bolting for the shed.

“Get back here you little shit!” Bonnie screamed with fright and tried to door handle which didn’t budge, and dipped out the way before the pocket knife in which Sandy had pulled out collider with the wooden door, piercing it right through.

As she sprinted behind the shed she whipped out her phone and prayed for even just a little signal, but came up blank. But she pressed the call button anyways, letting it ring in her pocket.

There was the path to her left. The one which Sandy must have been using to dispose the bodies. If she followed it, it could lead her back to the team. Back to Agent Hotchner who’d know what to do.

The air was went still. Bonnie stifled sobs from pressing her back against the shed, trying to hear footsteps or dirt crunching to get an idea on where Sandy was now.

But there was nothing. Which was more terrifying actually.

Run for it. You’re quick and she’s a little bigger than you are. She might not catch you.

Bonnie crept to the edge of the shed where she reluctantly peeked her head round the corner to see it open. Wanting to not think about anything anymore, her legs took control and she was running towards the path.

That was when Sandy pounced. She was a hunter. Knew how to catch prey in these woods, and she was pretty quick on her feet.

“HELP!” Bonnie screamed into the woods as hot tears rolled down her face. She didn’t have protection like the others with their guns. She had her bare hands and feet that were shaking all over she didn’t know how much she could run.

“HOTCH!” She screamed again, begging for the one member of the team she longed for. His approval, his praise, everything. He was just amazing. So calm and preserved yet caring and understanding. She felt safe when she worked with him and always felt bubbly when he smiled at her. He was the only person she thought of when running.

Sandy was catching at a frightening speed, like a cheeta chasing an antelope, and Bonnies skirt wasn’t in her favour, restricting the movement of her legs, which she would curse out later for possibly being the reason she had been caught so quickly.

Sandy was on top of her again in a flash, but she kicked with all her might and strength in her body to stop the woman from turning her into her next victim.

“Bonnie!” The sound of a man’s voice slipped through her ears, not really processing it at all as her brain was too busy instructing Bonnie on how to dodge a blade.

One hard kick after bringing her knees up close to her chin had done the trick to loosen the larger woman’s grip on her and she crawled backwards, eyes manic with fear but she had forgotten how to stand.

Though she didn’t have to.

“Stop right there!” It was Derek, standing on higher ground pointing his gun directly at Sandy who had not paid him any attention. Instead she was looking hungrily in the direction of Bonnies small frame. Snarling like an animal fighting for food.

The woman lunged and Bonnie screamed.

Then a gunshot.

Bonnies shut eyes tentatively opened, and was horrified by the bloody scene in front of her.

Sandy had been shot through the chest. One clean shot. Her blood pooled around her body, as well as dripped from Bonnies nose.

“Kid?! Are you alright?” Derek’s voice was muffled. She couldn’t stop staring at the woman.

“She tried… she tried to…” she was ashamed on how her sobs broke loose but was comforted by the strong arms of Derek around her.

Picking her up swiftly with the young girl clinging onto his shoulders, legs weak, she watched as Sandy’s lifeless figure became smaller and smaller until she was gone.

She must have fallen asleep or passed out because when she opened her eyes again, her and Derek had just arrived back at the park station.

The strong man put her down and steadied her with his hand.

“You alright? You’re not hurt or anything?” He questioned frantically, checking her for cuts or bruises.

“I don’t know… my arm is a little sore.” Derek pulled her blazer up and winced.

“Must have got you and you didn’t realise. Will need stitches.” His gaze softened and his hand caressed her cheek, it was much more friendly than Sandy’s.

“Some first case right?” She had tried to joke but choked on a sob afterwards.

There was embarrassment and let down. She wanted to be in this field so badly but had fumbled her first chance.

“Bonnie! Oh my god, thank god you’re safe.” Once the pair walked in, Agent Hotchner sped over and had engulfed her in a hug, which she returned tightly. “You did it. You found her, seriously well done.”

She didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

“Your call to me, Garcia tracked it and Derek found you first. Officers are down at the shed and have found two girls. Without you, they wouldn’t have been found.”

Bonnie could have vomited now with the knowledge that she had been right at that shed and had no idea… but how could she? She tried the door and it was locked. She couldn’t get in if she wanted to. She couldn’t kick down door the way Derek could.

“But I failed.” Her lip quivered.

“Failed?” Jennifer scoffed with a smile. “Bonnie you caught her. And those other girls are safe now because of you. I’d call that success.”

“Days in the field are hard. Sometimes it gets rough.” Agent Gideon nodded his head.

“But if Derek hadn’t-“

“No. Enough. You did good. And I’m sorry for sending you out there alone… if I had any idea then…” Agent Hotchner sighed. “We found out probably the same time as you when we realised Sandy had gone. We were looking everywhere and your call helped us find you.”

Bonnie pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked that it had eventually went through.

“Thank you.” She whispered and Agent Hotchner led her outside with the rest of the team, away to get some medical treatment to which Bonnie still couldn’t really feel her arm. She just knew that it hurt. The blood on her coat said otherwise however.”

Fresh stitches, clean clothes, a good rest. The plane back to DC would be a little while and she was very excited to sleep, though she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to commit to it.

She’d never been attacked like that before. It had been a serious eye opener to who the BAU actually deal with. But then there was thrill to do it all over.

“So…caught your first bad guy today huh?” Emily said with a smirk on her face at the other side of the table in the jet.

Bonnie chuckled. “I guess so.”

“I read your notes. You were ahead of us. I couldn’t imagine how scary that must have been though. Figuring it out alone when the person is right there next to you… that must have sucked ass.”

“It did. But it’s over now.”

Emily winked to Bonnie. “Damn right it’s over. If you were of age I’d offer you a drink.”

“Legal age in Scotland is eighteen y’know.”

“Yeah well, I’m not ready to lose my badge yet.” The two of them laughed. Bonnie didn’t drink anyways, she hated it.

“So… would you like to tell me what the first body you ever saw was then?” Emily asked and Bonnie twisted her mouth as she stared around the window at the soft clouds passing by.

“My dad.” She said absently. “Drug overdose. I was six. Me and my mum have been ourselves ever since.”

Emily frowned deeply and stretched her hand over to where Bonnies lay on the table. “Well, if you ever need someone I’m only a phone call away. We all are. Each of us all have some sort of trouble one way or another… you’re part of the team even if you’re an assistant. You’re part of the BAU.”

Bonnie smiled in spite of the void in her chest, sniffed before closing her eyes.

“Thank you… Emily.”

12 notes · View notes

masterwords · 1 year

Note

For the fluff ideas, I love Jack accidentally giving away the extent of Hotch and Morgan's relationship. To anyone. It's great, especially if they've already got an inkling as to what's going on.

Oh, well, this isn't fluff. I'll just say that now. But it is SOFT. And it does have a sweet ending.

Basing the whole story on THIS moment. Because when inspiration strikes, it strikes hard. So, we've got another Foyet theme here but it's all Morgan POV. It's a lot of angst and lots of feelings.

(5.2k words)

******* i'll be home soon *******

When SWAT shows up in a neighborhood like this, people notice. There are neighbors peeking through their curtains at the caravan of armored vehicles swinging through the gates at the Hotchner house. The black SUV in front had stopped, and a familiar face jumped out to punch in the gate code, which was somehow even more unsettling than the sight in general. A few of the neighbors stepped out onto their porches and watched from behind pillars, trying to stay out of sight but not able to stomp the curiosity.

They enter the house without being let in, and anyone watching knows that something bad has happened or is happening. They watch the swarm of men and women in kevlar vests with huge guns enter one after another and they step a little closer together hoping that whatever is happening stays located only in that house, doesn't seep out into the neighborhood. This isn't going to do anything for the HOA.

“Dave,” Derek whispers, indicating a hallway. He's trying to make it seem like he doesn't know every square inch of this place, but he also knows he wants to make it up to Haley's room first and taking the main route is going to put them arriving after strangers. If something has happened to Haley up there...he wants to be first. It's all that drives him. “Let's go this way,” he hisses and Dave nods, leading the way. Dave knows this house, too. They both have long histories with Hotch and it doesn't seem suspicious that Derek might know the layout, not to Dave. But JJ might get ideas and he doesn't want her to get those ideas...not now. He wouldn't mind their secret being out in the open but Hotch is still very protective of it, and he suspects it has less to do with the job and more to do with his own insecurity. With the spectacular failure of his first attempt at something big, and putting what this was under the intense scrutiny of profiler eyes was not something he was prepared for.

Derek wasn't worried at all. Not about that.

Haley is dancing to music in her bedroom while she folds laundry, enjoying an afternoon to herself while Jack plays at a neighbor's house. Derek had the playdate on his calendar, Haley always shared that kind of thing just in case. Hotch wasn't able to be around a lot but he wanted to know where they were, that they were safe. Divorce papers didn't change that, and Haley didn't mind.

She's more than accepted Derek's role in their lives, she's come to cherish it. He's good for Hotch in ways she never could be, he knows the work and he knows how important it is not to be there. Hotch has been a better and more present father since Derek entered the picture. Still, love him as she does, she doesn't expect to see him kick in her bedroom door while she's folding clothes.

She screams and pulls the earbuds out, staring right at hime. There are strangers in her bedroom, they brush past JJ and Dave and Derek to check closets and the bathroom and she just...stares. Scared. This kind of reaction can only mean one thing, a thing she'd prepared herself for time and time again. The day that Hotch wasn't coming home.

“Where is Aaron?” she asks Derek directly, doesn't bother looking anywhere else. Dave has lied to her more times than she can count, and JJ's face is too raw, her eyes too wide. She looks to Derek.

Derek wrestles with how to approach this. How important it is to maintain the secret at this point. He's not sure it matters anymore. Hotch will probably feel different, but Hotch is in critical but stable condition in the ICU, according to the doctors. He doesn't have much of a say about how this goes down.

“He's in the hospital,” Derek replies a little coolly before deciding he needs to be the one who goes to Jack. Hotch would want it to be him, to make Jack comfortable. Jack's friends' parents know him, it'll only scare everyone if a stranger comes for him. He locks eyes with Haley before speaking. “Text me the address,” he says like he even needs it. The house is two blocks away, he doesn't need to drive but he's going to...it'll help him maintaining what little cover he still has. “Tell them I'm on my way.” He's careful to say them, not their names, though he knows it still gives him away if they're really paying attention. It comes out a little stiff, but he doesn't think Dave or JJ have picked up on it, so he turns and leaves.

Derek isn't very nice to Marcy and Joe, he's short with them in an effort to get Jack and get back to Haley's quickly but his head isn't here. He can't think past the way Hotch looked in the hospital and the fact that he's not there. This is where they run into problems. When one of them gets hurt, the other can't just stop moving and be with their partner. He would give anything to be there right now, to talk to the doctors and know what they were up against. He would rather sit in the chair beside Hotch's bed and just stare at him while he sleeps. That isn't the way this works. Hotch is down for the count, so Derek is effectively in charge, he's got to step up and work twice as hard. It isn't ideal but he can't imagine a different life anymore.

And if he's being really honest, he doesn't want anything else. A short break would be nice, though.

“Hey buddy,” Derek says, affecting something close to a smile as Jack approaches him in the kitchen of his friends' house. He knows it isn't very convincing to the adults, they can see the weariness in his drawn features. But maybe Jack won't see it. He's so little. And right now, he looks even smaller. “Sorry to cut your play date short. Did you uh...” he's getting choked up because he knows what happens next. He takes this precious little boy, his little buddy, out of his friend's house and there is a high probability that he won't ever see them again. He might never have another play date over here and Derek can't say anything about it. “Did you say goodbye to Georgia and Jason?”

“Yep. Georgia said smell you later! Isn't that funny?" Jack giggles to himself and looks around, suddenly confused. Like he understands something is off here. Derek is wearing his FBI vest; the one Jack is fascinated with. "Where's mommy?”

“I'm taking you home to see her right now.” He realizes he's still in his vest, and Marcy is staring at it with fear in her eyes. She didn't see SWAT pull up, they're just out of view of the street the cavalcade had barreled down but she's keenly aware now. Joe has peeked out the window and seen the line of police cars on their little street, police and K-9s combing the cul-de-sac. Derek came with an escort and they're looking for someone. “Mommy is fine,” he adds, more for Marcy than Jack.

On the way to the car, Marcy taps on Joe's shoulder insistently and sends him after Derek. He follows behind them to the car not unlike a puppy, walking a little extra fast to keep up.

“Has something happened to his parents?” Joe asks quietly, hushed so Jack doesn't hear as he buckles himself into the vehicle. There isn't a booster seat, but they're only going a short distance and he lets Jack sit up front with him. He'll grab Jack's seat before they leave Haley's.

Derek searches for the best response he can arrive at...he doesn't want to lie but he can't tell the truth. The fewer people that know what happened, the safer they all are. Foyet wants the news to spread, infect everyone with fear. This whole neighborhood would turn into a ripe little hunting ground for him if Derek says one wrong thing.

“Aaron was injured in a job-related incident,” he says, closing the door. “He's in the hospital, we're just responding to the situation out of an abundance of caution. You know how we are, huh? It's probably overkill.”

Job-related. Joe knows what he does. What they both do. He doesn't know case details, but he knows enough to have a sort of idol worship for the two of them, and at neighborhood get-togethers he would seek Hotch out for stories, for a glimpse into a life more exciting than his as an accountant. “Oh, yeah, of course...” Joe stammers, staring hard at Derek's vest. Until Derek takes it off, shrugs out of it and holds it at his side. “If there's anything we can do, you'll let me know? They're like family.”

“Could you keep an eye on their house for a bit? We're going to take Haley and Jack for a little while, just to be safe. It's entirely likely that we're overreacting but...” his voice drifts off when he realizes there are tears in his eyes and they're giving him away. He and Joe aren't close, but they've been to plenty of barbecues together, they're friendly, Joe is well aware of his relationship to the Hotchners. With Aaron. He touches Derek on the forearm and smiles.

“Of course, yes. We still have our key from watering the plants for them last summer.”

They're good people. Derek feels terrible not being honest with them, but when Hotch's attack makes the news they'll know and maybe they'll understand why he had to do what he did. Maybe he'll drop a bottle of wine off later as an apology. For now, he's got to get Jack back home.

Time is of the essence. They're only going a couple of blocks, and they're creeping at a snail's pace because he's nervous with Jack not in a real booster seat, but he lets Jack push the button because he loves hearing that siren scream. His neighbors probably don't love it as much, but Derek thinks it might at least look a little amusing...big black SUV with lights flashing and siren blaring but going no more than 15 miles per hour, creeping slowly through suburbia. It elicits a small smile as he considers the spectacle of them.

By the time he gets back with Jack, Dave has helped Haley pack her bags and JJ has packed as many of Jack's things for him as she could find room for. Derek enters the room with Jack clinging to his neck, poking at his earring holes. He likes to do that; he pokes at them and tugs at them and tells him he should wear more treasure in them. Like a pirate. One night, solely out of pettiness, Derek had pointed out that Hotch had the same little holes and Jack had been beside himself. "But you said those holes meant you were cool..." the kid had some shade to throw at his dad. Hotch hadn't found the conversation nearly as amusing as Derek had.

“Member when daddy got you the red crystal?” he asked, poking again. “And you said he was a dork?”

JJ stares at the interaction, a little confused. Dave doesn't seem like he's listening, he's focused on Haley and talking her down as she mutters about this being isnane, an overreaction, she has a life and a job and too many things just to give up for this stupid fucking job. “I thought I was getting away from it all...”

“He is a dork,” Derek whispers back, grinning at Jack. “It isn't a crystal though. It's called a ruby. It's my birthstone.”

Now JJ is certain that she's not supposed to hear this conversation, but she can't stop listening. Sure it could just be something sweet. Hotch is old fashioned and gives beautiful gifts, and he and Derek have known one another for so many years now that he probably has to get pretty creative to come up with something that hasn't been done yet. She can almost believe it's not what she assumes. Hotch never half-asses anything like that, his gifts are thoughtful and usually way too expensive because he doesn't really think about that. He knows what he wants to give the people he loves, and he does it without expecting reciprocation. But an earring, Derek's birthstone, that seems a little romantic even for Hotch and his traditional leaning. Romantic and thoughtful, the kind of thing you offer someone you love in a way that isn't defined by where you work.

“He got you an earring?” JJ asks in a hushed whisper, sliding up beside them. She wants to know more and Derek looks like he's going to tell her, like he's ready to confirm what she's suspecting. It wouldn't be the end of the world. But Haley clears her throat and smiles awkwardly before he can answer.

“I think he said it was a joke,” she lies. “Right? Because Derek was getting old, and you know...the 90s were a wild time and Derek was so hip...didn't he say something about reclaiming your youth?” she's reaching but JJ pretends to buy it. They're obviously trying hard to keep it a secret. By the looks of it, there is some truth to what Haley said, but the motivation behind the gift was definitely not in jest.

Jack, however, isn't playing along. “No, mama, daddy said...”

“Jack, honey, I think we need to get on the road if we're going to see daddy, huh? He's probably sleepy and he's waiting for us.” She wipes the tears from her eyes and Derek feels sorry it wasn't him that told her what happened to Hotch. Not knowing what Dave said, how much he said, makes Derek a little nervous that she's not going to be prepared, that her expectations aren't realistic.

She's going to see him awake and he's going to tell her he's okay and she's going to get mad because if he's so okay then what the hell is all of this for? And she'll know he's not okay but dammit, if he can't be honest...Derek can see the writing on the wall. This situation is volatile.

On the way to the car, Haley stays close to Derek as he carries Jack who hasn't allowed the man to put him down the entire time. “Dave says he's okay. Is he okay, Derek? Because Jack is going to want to see him...but if he's...”

Derek stops and puts Jack down, tells him to run to Ms. Jareau and get buckled in. They've got his booster seat ready for him this time. “I'm not gonna lie...it's bad, Haley. Bad bad. He's lucky to be alive. But I don't think Jack will know any of that by just looking at him if it's kept short. He's gonna look mostly okay if you don't stay long.” And if you don't look too closely, he thinks.

“Can he...” she clears her throat and wipes the tears from her eyes. Her mascara is running. “Can he talk?”

“He can talk. It has to be fast; he's been through a lot, and they don't want him to have any excitement. He lost a lot of blood and the strain on his heart... but we can't...you can't leave...without saying goodbye.”

The car ride is punctuated only by the sounds of Jack's voice chirping on about the things he played with his friends, how they have toys he doesn't, and he wants to play with them more, and then he gets set on seeing daddy. Derek drives, a little too fast and a little too intense, trying to outrun that conversation.

“I'll keep him here,” he says as they walk down the long hallway to the ICU. His room is right at the front, closest to the nurse's station, and he can see the window from where they stop. Haley is pale, gray, afraid of what she's going to see when she walks in that room. Every fear she ever had about this job is coming true. “You go talk to him first. If he says he'll see Jack...”

“He will see Jack.”

“Haley, please give him the choice. He's been through a lot.”

She nods a little curtly and turns to walk toward Hotch's room. She only goes a few steps before she turns to Derek with a look of complete despair on her face. “What if we never see him again? Will he be able to live with that choice?”

She doesn't give Derek a chance to answer that one, and he's glad for that because he doesn't fucking know. This whole situation is a little out of his depth. All he knows is that Hotch isn't okay. No matter how many times he says he's fine, he's simply not. And maybe the rest of them can pretend it'll be fine but Derek isn't there yet.

The extent of it is beyond his ability to reason out.

“He says he'll see Jack,” Haley says as she rushes down the hallway to get her son, and Derek crouches next to Jack and holds him by the shoulders for just a second.

“Don't be worried, okay? Daddy's gonna look a little sick, and you gotta be real gentle with him but don't be scared. He's gonna be fine. I promise.”

He feels instant regret for that last part. He hates lying and he doesn't make promises he can't keep, but now he's just...well he might just have. But maybe this is parenthood, when you make promises you might not be able to keep but you'll die trying and that hopefully negates some of the act of the lie itself. There was hope when the promise was made. He pats Jack on the shoulder and sends him running toward Haley before backing off to stand with JJ and Dave.

“Don't,” he says when JJ opens her mouth. “Not the time.”

“I wasn't...” She was. He knows it, she knows it, they all know it. She smirks and Derek shoots her a look that says be careful. He isn't in the mood for playful ribbing. He isn't in the mood for any of this. Another day, maybe.

“Is the car ready for them?”

“Just pulled up. Sam's on his way now.”

Derek curses under his breath and scrubs his hands over his face, up and down. “Are we sure this is the right thing to do? We take them away from him, what's he got left to live for? Aren't we just telling Foyet he wins?”

“Hotch is in no condition to make that call, so Chief Strauss and the Director have made the decision.” Dave is clearly not convinced either. “We just have to trust that they'll be safe, and it is our job to get Foyet.”

JJ steels herself for a bad reaction but knows this is her shot. "He's not alone. He has you."

Derek hates that answer. He watches as Haley and Jack leave the room, both with tears in their eyes, and he knows Hotch will be doing his best not to let his show. He's already vulnerable enough without crying and he'll make himself sick in order to try and control it.

“Um,” Haley says, sniffling, looking at Derek. “I'm sorry. I know this is...I'm not supposed to...”

“It's okay. Think they figured it out.”

Haley laughs and sniffs again, glancing nervously at JJ and Dave before returning to Derek. “Yeah. So, um? My sister...can you call Jessica? I'm um...I'm not allowed to call her or my parents...I guess it's a security risk...they said Foyet could be watching us right now?”

“Yeah. I'll call her.”

“Thank you, Derek. She's going to want to come down here and rip his head off, but I promise she'll be kind when she gets here, she loves him so much...so...um...so let her come even if she says something awful? Please. She doesn't mean it, and they're going to need each other.”

Derek nods and holds his arms out to Jack, lets the boy crawl into them and wrap around his neck once more. Maybe for the last time. “Sure, consider it done. I gotta go get some of his things as soon as they clear the crime scene...I'll call Jessica on my way.”

He makes good on part of the promise. He does call Jessica, but not on his way, he can't pick up his phone. The rest of the team go and mill around outside of Hotch's hospital room hoping he'll invite them in, but only Rossi actually makes it inside. Derek drives across town, takes the long way, listens to music a little too loud and tries to zone out. He's thinking about Hotch and he's thinking about Reid and how that damn pig farm was like a really bad omen. It was pure evil and it sank its claw into his family. His voice won't come so he waits to call Jessica until he's done in the apartment, until he's had some time to reset.

He knows what he's about to walk into, and he is going to need the pain of it in order to listen to whatever Jessica is going to shout. It'll help steel him against her valid but misplaced anger.

It doesn't disappoint. In fact, it's worse than he imagined. It's pure Hell. He couldn't have prepared himself for the yellow tape, the glass on the floor, the scent of whiskey and blood. It's horrifying. It's the type of scene that you walk into and know without a doubt that there were no survivors. That two men were in this apartment the night before and those two men are still breathing is nothing short of a miracle.

“Hey man,” Derek says, coming up beside someone logging evidence in the kitchen. “SSA Derek Morgan, FBI. I got a call saying the master bedroom and bathroom were cleared and I can grab a few things for him to have at the hospital. That cool?”

“Just let me know what you take before you go, please.” The young man doesn't even look at him, doesn't look past his credentials. He walks down the hallway slowly, careful to step around evidence markers, eyeing everything that is out of place and broken. The bullet hole in the wall is eerie, but that blood on the carpet...god there's so much of it that he feels sick. He remembers Foyet's house, the buckets of his own blood as he faked his own death.

Slowly, he enters Hotch's room and he leaves it dark. No reason to turn on the light, he knows what he's after and where everything is. His go bag is neatly tucked in his closet, he keeps a few of them there and ready, well inventoried. He knows the way they're organized, which ones are ready, and which are waiting on dry cleaning or toiletries to be added. Hesitantly, he pulls the work clothes out of the bag and stuffs in more comfortable things – t-shirts and sweatpants, wool socks, a few sweaters. He rifles through the drawer, the bottom drawer, until he finds what he knows is stashed back there. Even in the dark he knows the sweatshirt by touch, it's worn and too soft, the kind of soft that makes it a little dangerous to put in the washer. Chicago PD emblazoned on the front in cracked white letters against faded navy blue that looks a lot more like gray. He balls it up in his fist and drags it to the bag, shoves it in. It used to be his father's, and somewhere along the line he left it at Hotch's place and it just sort of lived here after. Hotch had referred to it as his favorite cashmere sweater one time, one silly time when he'd had a few beers and was at a loss for how to describe just how soft it was. It had incited a whole discussion about cashmere that went nowhere except Derek being unable to bring himself to take it back. The ratty old sweatshirt, Hotch's favorite cashmere sweater, lived at his apartment now.

He has no idea if Hotch can even put something like that on right now, no idea if his injuries are going to mean he can't wear any of this but he's going to bring what he can. He'll buy new clothes if he has to later.

The drive back to the hospital is torture. Every red light feels like centuries and his stomach is all tied in knots. He hasn't eaten all day, and he only realizes that because he's driving down a street littered with about seven different fast-food chains, and he actually considers stopping.

Finally, he just can't take it and swings into a burger place without a line in the drive thru. He's about to lose his mind and more than likely some food will help that, even if he's dumping buckets of grease onto what feels like a fire. He scarfs it down while he talks to Jessica on the phone, he eats fast and spends more time listening than talking with the excuse that he's chewing to make it easier on both of them. He has nothing to say, and she has so much. When it's done and settled and she's calmed, he tosses the trash into the backseat, a problem for another day. He's about to miss visiting hours if he doesn't hurry.

He feels bad not bringing Hotch any food, a milkshake, something. But he has ten minutes and Hotch probably isn't even allowed to eat yet. He'll bring something next time.

The hallway is deserted. He can hear every footstep echo through time and space, the squeak of his rubber soles, every ragged breath he takes as he realizes he's finally got a few minutes just to be with Hotch. And it really is only a few minutes, because he spent the whole damn day running around. “Visiting hours are over in ten minutes, sir” he's told by a nurse brushing by to do a vital check on another patient.

“I'll be quick.”

He stops in the doorway and thinks it's cruel that he has had to do so much all day that has kept him away from the one place he wanted to be. But the more he did, the less Hotch had to think about, and wasn't that the point? Taking the burden and laying it on his own shoulders.

“Hey,” Derek says, entering cautiously. Hotch's eyes are barely open, narrow slits that catch the light from the hallway. He's barely awake and Derek feels guilty for even coming. He should have waited for morning.

“Hey,” Hotch rasps, drawing a shallow breath. Derek can see the pain that flashes over his features. The meds are doing their job, but there is only so much they can do. The pain is sharp in places, burning in others and he's just trying to lay as still as possible in the hopes that it'll help.

It doesn't.

“I don't have much time, they're gonna kick me out in ten minutes. Well probably nine now...”

Hotch doesn't move much, just a flinch when he breathes in again and he drags his hand slowly up his thigh until it rests there palm up. An invitation to come closer. He just wants Derek close. He's just been through hell, and he's been alone for most of it.

Derek can't imagine anything he'd rather do for those nine minutes, so he drags a chair over to the bed and places his hand right on top of Hotch's. His hand is cold and dry, and he thinks back to one of his anatomy classes that talked about the connection between blood loss and dehydration.

“They being nice to you?”

“Yes.”

“You being nice to them?”

“...think so...” That probably means no, or it's debatable anyway. He's not a good patient but he's polite and he's kind, it usually garners him favor in spite of his general unwillingness to submit. Derek could help with that in the morning. Visiting hours start at 7am and he's going to be waiting at the door when it opens.

“I brought you some things, for when you're a little more with it. Some clothes, your toothbrush, your electric shaver cos I'm not letting you come outta here looking like a mountain man...and this.” He reaches with his free hand down into the bag and pulls the sweatshirt out, dropping it over their hands. “Thought you might get cold, you're kind of a baby about that.”

Hotch knows what it is by the smell alone, he doesn't even open his eyes. He doesn't think he can put it on yet, his range of motion is severely limited by stiches and staples and an incredible amount of swelling, but he's glad to have it anyway.

“...think they're finally going to figure us out...” he slurs as he balls his fist up in the material and holds it not unlike a child and a teddy bear. Derek laughs a little under his breath.

“I got news for you. The cat's out of the bag, baby,” he replies, squeezing Hotch's hand. “Jack took care of it for us today.” He pauses, feeling out Hotch's reaction and is pleasantly surprised that the sedatives must be doing their job because there isn't even a tick in his blood pressure. He almost wished there had been, it looks a little low. “Haley finished it off.”

Hotch smiles dreamily and lets his head fall to the side, trying to focus on Derek's face in the dark with every ounce of awake he has left in him. He just wants Derek's face to be what he sees before he falls asleep. “What'd they say?”

“Well, first Jack broadcast to JJ, Dave and all of SWAT that you bought me an earring...and Haley asked me to call Jessica...and her parents...”

Hotch grunted and shifted painfully, tucking the sweatshirt under his chin. “I'll do it.”

“Like hell you will. I already called Jessica, she's gonna meet me here first thing in the morning...and she's gonna call her parents. I asked Joe and Marcy to watch Haley's house, I'll meet with Garcia in the morning to clear your schedule and delegate whatever you had to everyone else...everything is taken care of. Your only job is to be nice to these nurses who are coming to kick me out now. You listen to them, and you get better so I can take you home, okay?”

“...don't....deserve you...” Hotch whispers miserably, losing his battle with sleep mid-thought. Derek smiles and nods adamantly, giving his hand one last squeeze before standing up. There is a nurse standing expectantly in the doorway, ready to shut the ICU down for the night.

“No, you do not. But you got me anyway.” He bends forward and leaves Hotch with a kiss on the forehead. “See you tomorrow.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #david rossi #haley hotchner #jack hotchner #angst #hurt/comfort #lots of feels #was supposed to be fluffy and soft i'm sorry guys

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ihopeineverloseyou19 · 2 years

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Unrequited

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“What a horrible thing it is to look into your mother's eyes and see the love for you vanish. I’m sorry you had to raise a kid you didn’t want. I love you.” the cradle, berthe morisot

Read it on Ao3

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

The security the moon bought her was something Emily deeply missed about the summer's she spent with her grandfather. Him, so different to his own daughter who only had alway the same thing in mind. Politics. He was the one who showed her how to look closely at the sky, searching for stars. That's why Emily learned to take on the company of nature brought, with each night that she spent alone in her larger, oversized mansion.

She felt alone, the bunch of bodyguards always attentive in that house never made her feel any safer, nor comfortable. She had ached to be held for so many years, that when Jennifer Jareau, her new colleague at the BAU had hugged her tightly she almost broke down crying. JJ didn’t even know her, but Emily learned the hard way that those hugs would be the only constant thing she would have wherever she was in reach of the media liaison.

Emily had tried in her lifetime to be so many different people, so many hobbies, languages and extra curricular activities, all of them chosen carefully, comparing them to her mother's interest, for when they had to be inside of a room, alone together. It was not like her mother cared about her studies. She didn't. But Emily talked about them either way, never missing the little changes in her mother's posture when she reacted to something she disliked. Emily found the path to make her mother care. She destroyed herself, for nothing.

She thought then, that if she wanted to be loved so much, she had to learn to be everything her mother detested. She did it. Emily managed to get under her mother's skin and it worked, the ambassador had come to realize that her daughter, once little familiar, so polite was turning out to be like her late husband. Someone who didn't want to make her happy. Elizabeth had tried to fix her daughter, she had really tried, pointing everything she was displeased for. It didn’t work, so she took more trips to Europe, the necessary measures to leave her daughter alone, apart, something she didn’t see, didn’t happen. She left one night and never came back.

The inability to close her eyes was still there. Emily was not a very good sleeper. Not even when she spent so many nights parting in some unfamiliar kid backyard. No matter how tired she came from that, her body was not ready to rest. Emily had been drained of that lifestyle, the tiredness she felt deep in her home didn't make it for her brain to shut off and sleep. Something her therapist had recommended to her was actually to lay still in bed. Not thinking about not actually sleeping, but resting her muscles and her mind instead. There was something that didn’t let her sleep, after all these years Emily thinks that she had found the answer.

Being lonely was not a problem. It was never a problem, she was used to it. Tonight, it actually mattered, she could not really pinpoint why? Why did she need her mother so intensely? It could not be because of the case. They got kidnappings of children so often that she barely shed a tear when the parents and kids were reunited. It was something more. Something she didn't know where to start looking out for. But still here she was, ringing into her mothers house, talking to the security guards she has known since she was a kid. Moving her car forward to her mothers new house.

Elizabeth Prentiss had never stayed in the same house for too long. Emily’s last bedroom, the last room she had before leaving to the university had been sold out with the house she spent part of her childhood in. Emily was not someone who had sentimental value for things she once lost, for objects that didn't really mean anything to her. She never cried when she came back from the university to her old home and saw another family playing happily in her front yard. It was something she never really could do, she really didn’t understand at that moment how not having done something could make her so sad.

Emily was face to face with the large front door that separates her from her mother, funnily enough, the length of the door might as well be like something that had divide them into two, Emily had tried so hard to climb it, since she was little she had tried and when she thought she was close enough to get to know her, to understand her, something shifted and brought her down, making her bruises that would stay there, not healing, they could not be seen, not by other or even by her own mother. Elizabeth had never focused on her daughter enough time to see, to notice the suffering she was part of.

Her mother had never been one to open the door for anyone, she doesn’t even know why she was surprised when a maid opened it for her, directing her to where her office was located, first asking her if she had an appointment. Later then leaving her waiting, seated in an overspensive chair when she replied a polite ‘no’, her surroundings with drawings of mountains and fields, nature, something her mother detested, what was she thinking in the first place?

How can she be her mothers daughter? They never really had the same interest, never really connected. She had her mothers name as a middle name. At least Emily really thinks they didn’t not like what she did with her grandpa when she was left there in her holidays, maybe that’s why for some time she considered Paris home. Perhaps she could even move there wherever she retired from the FBI, buy his grandpa's old house and live there, solely living off what she planted. But her mother was not the one who named her, his father was.

"Miss Prentiss?" Her surname was called, not with the same emotions her team called her. Derek teasingly as he passed her the first coffee cup while she arrived at their break room, or Aaron, sternly not letting her go after an unsub unarmed. For the other she was 'Emily', for Reid who never got a costume to call her by uer surname or JJ, who loved to shorten her name and said it with so much care. Penelope who was always happy to see her, "Ambassador Prentiss is ready to see you"

Ambassador Prentiss, the woman who neglected her family, who only thought about politics and made her husband walk out on Emily when she was merely three years old. Ambassador Prentiss, a title that Emily resented so much, for not letting her have the only parent she should at least have. When her father walked out of her house, suitcase already prepared, a letter neatly flowed on their kitchen table, Emily knew. She knew that she was going to never see him again. No matter what, he promised her that he would call her and they would spend time together. She should have known. He never kept a promise.

“Emily?” Her mother's surprising tone should not have bothered her, not now that she knew the probabilities, “What are you doing here? She was standing in front of her desk, her computer opened all the way, papers spread all over her desk. Disorganized, something Emily thinks it's passed down to her.

“I was in the neighborhood” It was not a lie at all, Emily was in fact in the neighborhood, she came from Rossi’s house, who offered a glass before going to her home. Only someone like Rossi would have chosen to live close to her own mother. It was a rapid decision, something stupid, now that she ponders over it, she must have forgotten, she always does.

“Okay” Her mother’s tone hadn’t really changed towards her, she spoke as her daughter was someone she had to win over, Emily was accustomed to it, but somehow she would have wished to have a mother like Derek’s who offered her cookies the time her son was in jail by something he did not commit. Or like JJ’s mother, Sandy, who welcomed her one Christmas when she blurted the first year she was with the team that she didn’t really have any plans.

The silence between them felt heavy, there were so many things she wanted the answer to, that she really didn’t know what to say, what to talk about. Part of the reason she almost went into politics, but that the fear of becoming her mother had pushed her aside to something she had always been curious for. Something that helped her find a family she had always carved.

“Are you enjoying the BAU?” Her mother asks before she has the time to sit, that means that her visit had to be short, if there was something she knew about her mother, was how she treated her guest, who she liked, who she did not tolerate, she was not even looking at Emily as her mother typed away.

“I would not say enjoying” Emily stated, she liked her job, but for it to happen someone had to die, that was the part she did not enjoy from it. The rush she had when they were right and save another victim was enough to keep going and perfecting her skills, “We deal with some horrible things”

“I thought that was what you wanted” Her mother states as she still doesn’t look her way, her tone it’s not really what Emily was looking for in her mother, it lacked warmth, the kind of tone Penelope had.

“It is” She answered, this time she doesn't want to stay much longer, the reason she was here was completely forgotten. Her mother looks up to her and stares silently in her direction, “Then you do enjoy it”

“Enjoying it feels wrong” Emily would use other terms to describe her job she enjoyed hanging out with her team after a case, or the girls night that the job had given her. But her job, she liked her job, but something she wished people didn’t have to die for her to do.

“What would you call it?” Her mother inquired, taking off her glasses, she was tired of the conversation, which meant she was ready to finish it. To throw her out of her office at least. But she would be too impolite to say it herself, she would wait for Emily to finish, that was something she really learned across the years wherever she was forced to accompany her in her Ambassador duties.

“Why do we have to end up like this?” Emily questined, she was tired and really this was not how she planned to finish her day, in mid argument with her mother, she really should not have thought of any other ending to this. She chose to come here, to her mother's house, she knew how it would end.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Emily asks, not letting her mother respond, it would be the same phrase she always uses, one she learned to hate so much. The only thing that was constant was the times both of them were home where the arguments happened almost every time they crossed paths.

“Ronnie will help you get there” Elizabeth responds as Emily hands her the purse she came with, she wasn’t going to let her mother go away so easily, not now that she just arrived and had her full attention.

Emily splashed some water, completely ignoring the make up she applied this morning before going to the bureau. She was anxious and at this point in the day she didn’t care much about her appearance, she just wanted to have answers to the questions that kept haunting her. She wanted to make peace with the part of her childhood she knew she was never going to recover, but she needed closure for that, an answer that her mother was the only one that could give her that.

When Emily comes back she takes a seat in front of her, she needs to be as close as possible, to have her attention if she wants answers, "why did dad leave?"

"Because of you" The response was not supposed to sting so much, she barely remembered him, but she thought that between her parents he was the only one who had loved her. She was wrong.

"What?" She felt tears picking in the corner of her eyes. Her mother, or in this case the Ambassador, it was the persona she was talking about wherever they talked. The shadow of what her mother had been was long gone.

"He was tired of taking care of you" Her mother chuckled nervously, "I never wanted to be a mother" Elizabeth paused looking at her daughter, she was sure that Emily already knew that," I did it because I loved your father, until the moment he chose to walk out, leaving me with you"

Emily felt angry, angry at her mother for laying the blame on her. If she had known, she would not have felt so overwhelmed by the case they had weeks ago where an unsub was killing high powerful women, when they found the last body Emily could not help but visualize her mother or even herself laid in the cold morgue of the state they were in. To think that for a moment she had been afraid of losing her mother. The only parent that she had around. "I didn't even chose to be born"

Her mother doesn't tell her that she is sorry, Emily knows that she can't really can be "You made my life hell Emily, it tried so hard to love you, but I..I wasn't meant to be a mother"

"Are you telling me that it was my fault? Your inability to love me was my fault?" Emily chokes out, she should know better than this. She was a grown up adult. She knows how to be more composed than this.

"I'm just saying that-" the door opening forcefully stops her mother's words. Emily didn't really need to hear more, this was everything she never thought she would need to cut the ties with her. This was the last time she would ever come back here.

"Enough" JJ's stern voice cut through the air, Emily tuning around and her gaze landing on her colleague. The FBI liaison stood there, arms crossed, she seemed to be angry. Perhaps she was angry at her. She had promised to hang out with her as soon as she left Rossi’s house. She should have messaged her at least to let her know her change of plans.

"JJ" Her name turned out like a desperate sob, JJ knew partly why Emily had come inside, why she wanted to face her mother. She opened her eyes as Emily came crashing into the hug, clinging into her, JJ placed a kiss on her friend's hair. Eyes still firmly looked into the person she was enraged with.

“Let's get out of here” JJ guides her out, just like the maid explained to her, Emily’s purse already in her left hand as the other arm was cautiously over the brunette waist. Emily stopped in her tracks when her eyes scanned over the vacant parking lot, searching for her own car, but could only locate Jennifers. “Where…How did you know I was here?”

“I called Dave” JJ states as she opened the car door for her, going towards the drivers side, she turned the car into life and put the heating on, “I had a gut feeling that I would find you here when Rossi claimed that you we gone for about an hour”

“I’m sorry” Emily apologized,leaning into her friend, she knew that JJ would not start the car until she was good enough. Jennifer shakes her head, “It was not your fault, okay”. Emily nodded rapidly, how it could not be her fault?

“I did have to cancel your surprise party" JJ lightened the conversation disclosing what she had been preparing for weeks, “Seeing as the birthday girl wasn’t going to show up. I had to sent the guest home”

“I ruined my own birthday” Emily muttered, she was 35 freshly turned, “I just wanted to…I wanted for my mother to wish me a happy birthday” Emily paused sniffing back tears, “I don’t know why it hurt so much, she didn’t even remember the other ones, what did this one have that it would be special to recall?”

"My birthday has never been significant for her," Emily paused looking out to her mother's home, "I don't know, it has been irrelevant. I have been irrelevant for her"

“Buckle up” JJ stated as she started driving, she was determined to make Emily’s 35th birthday as memorable as possible, Emily needed to remember her birthday with something good. That was exactly what she was going to do. JJ was going to turn this into the best birthday Emily has ever had.

JJ’s apartment was full of balloons, presents scattered all the way to her living room. That was the first thing Emily noticed when Jennifer turned on the lights. Emily felt so overwhelmed, more so when she noticed at least ten glasses set up in the kitchen sink. Ten people. She ruined ten people's night for not showing up to her surprise party. She even ruined her own day. JJ’s hand was firmly pressed against her back, warm against the fabric of her shirt as she guided her towards the couch.

“Look at this mess” JJ muttered under her breath as she noticed how Emily gaze flickered down at the champagne glasses from her previous guest, “I’m not going to clean it up now, we can use it for tomorrow”

The remains of a party that she didn’t get to enjoy. Her own surprise birthday party, she never had one, she had thrown a lot during the years and had confided in JJ that she didn’t have one. Her best friend made it true, but at what cost, she didn't get to be in it. Instead she was getting answers.

“My mother…there must be a point in my life where she has loved me right?” Emily inquired, JJ’s gentle fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp, it calmed her, “If I had followed her footsteps maybe she would tolerate me more”

“She wouldn’t” JJ’s voice was firm, as if she believed herself, maybe she did, Emily could not focus that much, a grief that she had inside for too long, was devouring her. Mourning for a father and a mother that she never had. A family that she wished so hard to have, but that she never had.

“How can you know that?” Emily inquired turning around, completely pressing their bodies together, she needed to feel close to something, to somebody, she needed to see that she still had someone to lean into. Because JJ always let her, she let Emily bury her head in the crook of her neck, warm skin pressed against her check as she heard the liaisons heart thum thum thum, beating, alive. Emily hopes that she could somehow never lose this.

“Some mother’s aren’t meant to be mothers'' JJ's simple response makes Emily have to take a deep breath, she needs to calm herself down. It was done. She had closure with her mother. Still, she was sure that wherever it would be her turn to leave, that she would cry, like she did with her father. Like she would do for anyone she once loved.

“What a perfect day” Emily muttered, “I went to my mothers house, for her to wish me a ‘happy birthday’ and she didn’t even know” JJ’s movements stop completely, she notices that the liaison tenses for a few seconds, her heart picking the rhythm up for a little. Emily lifts her head with caution.

JJ swallows, changing her position, so she is seated in her couch, “She knows” JJ pauses as the words register in her best friend, “I called your phone before going towards your mothers house and she picked it up”

“What did she say?” Emily inquires, she knows that it would not be good. She recalls JJ’s entrance, how she entered the room, the quickness she had to keep her apart from her mother. JJ knew, she had to know that their mother daughter relationship could not be nothing more than professional, “please”

“No” JJ’s voice was soft, like it always had, “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself like that” JJ walked away from the couch. Emily felt relieved, she didn’t want to know, but part of her wanted to understand how her mother could have learned to hate her so much, “Was it my fault?”

“None of that was your fault” JJ turned off the lights as the candles, Emily’s birthday candles illuminated her way into where her best friend was seated, “You were not the issue, Em, you tried to please someone who was solely born for politics. Politicians can never be pleased, you know that”

“Now, I believe that it's still your birthday” JJ announces, placing the cake in her little coffee table in front of the couch, Emily positions herself next to her, her body pressed to hers. Without any space in between, they have always be like that, “Wish something before blowing out the candles”

“Would it be too much to ask for her love?” Emily inquires, blurting out her wish, she knew that it would be impossible, she had asked that same thing wherever she had a cake in front of her, and nothing happened, there was no magic that would make her own mother love her or even care about her daughter.

“It wouldn’t” Emily feels how JJ holds her hand, the movement so familiar for them, their fingers interviewed like most of the time are, in New years wherever they have to count back the second to welcome in a new year, they always find each other. Emily can’t really say that she didn’t even think how JJ’s lips would be on her own.

Emily blows the candles, the fire dissipating with a single puff, letting the darkness surround them, but she knows JJ, she could make her whole silhouette in the dark, she had studied her blonde colleague so many times, that if she wanted to, she could locate her lips, lock them with her own, Emily was sure that with the action she would still find nothing but love beneath.

"What did you wish for?" JJ inquired, her voice a little bit farther since now, a low light was hanging above them, the soft lamp JJ had purchased when she first moved in. Emily remembers how the two of them spent that afternoon, with glasses on wine, encircled by the instruction papers.

"I can't exactly reveal my wish can I?" Emily said as she drank from a glass of water JJ had bought her when they first came here, her gaze flickering between her colleague's lips. It was not the first time that happened. Emily was sure that it would not be the last.

JJ agreed with a nod, "I hope you like the cake I've picked for you" She had grabbed two plates, "the birthday girl usually does the first cut". Emily takes the knife and slowly gets a piece of the cake out. Like herself, she had lost so many pieces trying to become a better version for those who didn't even tolerate her, that now she feels incomplete, she doesn't even know who she is.

"It's a great cake" Emily teases, she profusely picked the side where the writing was not engraved, she liked to hold onto the message JJ had chosen for her, she places a lingering kiss on the cheek of her best friend, "thank you"

JJ breathes in, she tries to regulate her fast beating heart when she feels Emily’s lips in her skin, she should not be reacting to her touch like that. She shouldn’t be reacting to Emily like that, not today. Not after the day the brunette girl had. How can her heart be so selfish right now and lean in a little more as the kiss lingers more than ever?

“How does a mothers love feels like?” Emily mutters, her head lowered in JJ’s shoulder, a position she took upon wherever they seated together, side by side in the jet, moments before sleeping, the familiarity in everything that surrounded them was so calm, Emily thinks that they belong with each other. But perhaps she doesn’t have the energy to confess it today.

“A mother’s love is really no different from a mother’s hate” JJ responds, a chill running down her spine, she had experienced two types of childhoods, she knows, “The intensity between the words, the rage, everything is exactly as the love they hide” JJ pauses reflecting back to something her own mother told her, back when Ross was gone, “Did you ever heard the phrase, grief is all the love you could not give?”

Emily nods, she reminisces back to when her grandpa died, how she felt full of rage rather than sad, she was angry at him for leaving her so soon. For leaving her forever tied with her own mother, with nowhere else to go, but back to what she had a hard time calling ‘home’, where her mother and her resided.

Only one of her teachers had noticed her low academic declinment and forced her to go to talk with the school counselor, who cracked her open in two sessions with her. That woman had been kind and honest with her. She had explained to Emily that indeed it was normal to feel angry at him for leaving, but in the end all the anger would dissipate and the sadness would come in strongly, without her noticing. The sorrow would try to swallow her down, the memories and happy times would not have the same impact they once did. Most importantly she told her that it was okay for her to feel sad.

“Your mother” JJ takes in a deep breath, she was in no way a profiler, but she had her own share with grief and unrequited love with people from her own family, “Your mother, all she can feel right now is rage, but her feeling enraged or angry towards you is something good”

“How so?” Emily inquired, a yawn escaping lazily within her, she looked at JJ’s living room clock, it was late for them to be talking, her birthday was coming to an end and her wish was still not fulfilled

“Emotions are a complex thing” JJ states, her hair was already messy enough and no matter how much she brushed it, there was something there incapable of staying still, “That your mother feels something towards you even if it’s rage it’s a good thing” JJ drinks a little bit of water, her throat becoming dry in the process, maybe it was for the truth the words carried, or how much they hurt when her mother explained them to her when she was merely eleven years old, “A mother feeling something towards her child is better than if she feels nothing. It means that deep down she cares”

“I’m grieving for the mother that I had?” Emily was confused, she understood that her mother feeling something for her rather than not caring about her meant something, that Elizabeth still was attentive wherever she called, enough to call her back, showed her that maybe down the road there could be something there, even if it was insignificant.

“You are not grieving for the mother you have” JJ closed her eyes, she took herself a moment to get her point across, “You are grieving for the moments you wish you had between the two of you”, she noticed Emily had her eyes closed as she heard her.

“I already grieved for my childhood” Emily explained to her, “I grieved for my lack of stability and the places that I wished so hard I could have stayed when I finally got myself comfortable there. There is nothing more I can grieve from there”

"Teenage years?" JJ inquired, Emily had not let her too much inside her life, not her and no to anyone in the team. Emily had always been a guarded person, JJ had known it the first time she had hugged her, the first time they met. Her new coworker had been tense as she wrapped her arms around her. JJ did not give it too much attention, until some years later.

"Came back from my university to see that my mother had sold out the house she barely stepped a food in" Emily chuckled sadly, "I went to my car and cried my eyes out" Emily moved her position, this time looking up to JJ, who was calmly staring to her switched off TV, where they had see so many movies together, alone or with Penelope.

“And what about now? What about today?” JJ acknowledge, she knew that Emily could not bury what happened today to her so easily, she needed to have some sort of catharsis to get it out, she needed to talk

“What do you want to know?” Emily announced standing up, she was tired of being still, she needed to move if she was going to talk about the urge she had to go to her mothers house, why she stood thirty minutes in the street parked in front of her mothers house before getting the necessary courage to enter.

“Why you appeared there out of the blue” JJ wanted to underst her, she wanted so hard to get to know Emily’s reasons, deep down she knew that it was because she cared too much about her, that she was asking, instead of letting her go to her own home, but something was telling her that she needed Emily to stay. JJ needed her tonight.

“I guess that if I appeared there and comforted her so that I would have a reason” Emily admitted, she really should have seen it coming, her mother was never going to do it, she didn’t know why she ran away after work, after all her coworkers wished her a very ‘happy birthday’ towards the only person that didn’t care enough to know.

“A reason for what?” JJ inquired, Emily pacing in her living room was making her uneasy, she had never seen Emily so unsettled during the years she had known and loved her, Emily was everything to her, the last person she wished to see sad or even distressed. A person she confided nearly everything to, Emily was who she went to when she felt like the word was out of perspective for her.

“A reason for being unlovable” Emily chokes, with the words trailing out of her mouth. She spent so many years trying to ignore that feeling, the feeling that maybe she was not made to be loved. That she was not made to have stability during her life, and much less her love life. So many relationships because she was so intense and emotionless towards her partners.

“You are loved” JJ’s voice soothes her, Emily could not really believe her, how could she? After everything her mother said, how her father walked out of the house because of her, how could she be worthy of even someone's love, when her own mother didn’t even love her?

“My wish hasn’t been fulfilled” Emily announces as she sees the clock hit midnight, her birthday finished, she could leave this birthday behind, the story with her mother buried deep between her wounds. She notices how JJ walks towards her, she grabs her face, softly her fingers caressing her cheek, her lips so close to her own

“I love you” Is everything that JJ mutters as she locks her lips with Emily’s, her heart lowering, the muscles relaxing as she notices Emily pressing herself more into the kiss, into her, lips bruising against each other, as they both try to hold onto this moment, without letting go. It was everything both wished to do, and it was happening, it was finally happening, after years of unrequited love from their relatives, they found that love in one another.

Emily had lost part of herself every day she saw her mother look away from her, every minute she had to spend alone, by herself, with nobody around, the ambassador so deep in her work, her grandpa dead, she had nobody to lean into, until JJ. JJ who had changed that loath she felt to contact. JJ turned all of that into love, something she was sure she was going to cherish forever. JJ had been unknowingly a vital part of her growing up.

Emily really could not think about a better birthday than this one, her best friend or maybe something more by her side, candles already condensing into the melting cake, the remains of a party already forgotten surrounded them as JJ lead her to her bedroom, sleep came in easy to her wherever she was with someone she trusted. Jennifer made her want to take care of herself and it was something she would have to learn to do, something her mother neglected to do. But she was not alone. Emily had her and she knew that no matter what, she would never have to be alone again.

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