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futuremrsreid · 3 years

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Baby Steps

Request: @gubswh0re requested: "hi! could you do 20,25 & 48 from the promt list all in one? would be amazing, thank you!!"

Summary: A case gone wrong and Spencer blames himself. Reader tries to make him feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: hurt/comfort, angst, a bit of fluff if you never felt happiness before

CW: sad as fuck uhm I lowkey broke my own heart but its also really sweet

Word Count: 1,9k

If I had to describe Spencer Reid handling his emotions in two words, they would be “quiet suffering”. In the two years I have known him he only opened up a handful of times. Not in the sense of him never talking about his past or things that happened to him, but whenever he talked about these things, he tells them like one of his facts. He tells you that his mother has schizophrenia, but he doesn't tell you how he feels about it. It always reminds me of a medical anamnesis.

On rare occasions, he would break. Everything became too much, even for him. I remember the first time I witnessed it very clearly. It was after he visited his mom for a few days and, from what he told me, she was in such a bad condition that she didn’t even recognize him. He was devastated and when he was on his way back he drove straight to my apartment, not knowing how to deal with everything. Spencer didn’t call or text before he arrived there and saying I was surprised when I opened my door doesn't even come close. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. Truth be told, I was very overwhelmed so I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled him inside and hugged him as hard as humanly possible.

In the office everyone always jokes about Dr Reid and his fear of human touch, but he hugged me back so hard that breathing became just a little difficult, and in that moment I realized the reason he doesn’t hug people isn’t because of his fear of bacteria. It’s because of the closeness of it. My heart cracked then.

The next discovery I made was that Spencer is a quiet cryer. I didn’t even notice it until his tears started seeping through my shirt and I could feel the wetness. I don’t know how long we stood there, but when I could feel him calming down a bit, I pulled away just enough to be able to look at him. He was extremely embarrassed and started to pull away completely to cover his face with his hands, but I’m too stubborn for that, so I grabbed his wrists and made him look at me. He started crying again then.

It took an hour until he started telling me what got him so upset and after that we talked the whole night, about his mother, her sickness and everything related to it. I always hoped that he would open up about it eventually, but when he finally did, I couldn’t handle it very well. I tried not to cry myself, but that is hard when the person you love most breaks down in front of you like that.

That night I held him close, let him lie on my chest, played with his hair - everything to try and make his pain go away. And after that day I thought things would have changed, that he would stop hiding and open up more to me, but I was very wrong. When he woke up the next morning he apologized about a hundred times and no words or reassurance made him less ashamed. Afterwards he tried to act like nothing had ever happened.

So in conclusion: I had done a lot of difficult tasks in my life, but getting Spencer Reid to talk about his feelings was by far the most difficult. Nonetheless, today was one of those rare days.

We just came back from a really shitty case that resulted in more victims than it should have due to the police department holding back evidence. It was messy and frustrating and exhausting. Spencer was there when one of the victims was shot and he blamed himself for not preventing it, even though we all told them that there was no chance that he could have done it.

And as if the case itself wasn't bad enough, we were stuck for more time back in the office to do the paperwork. When the clock turned 8 pm Hotch came out of his office to tell us to go home. We all sighed in relief and started packing up our things. All of us except a particular dr. He was still sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. I watched him for a while, contemplating what to do, and after everyone said their goodbyes, I walked over to him.

“Come on. I’ll take you home”, I said, leaning on his desk trying to catch his eyes with mine. No luck.

“I still have work to do, I’ll take the subway home later.” He continued typing like i wasn’t even there and I got frustrated. The case was already bad enough and I would not stand here watching him torture himself.

“That wasn’t a request, Spencer.” I didn’t intend to sound so harsh but hey, at least it made him look at me. “We are gonna leave. Now.” He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again, he knew better than to argue with me. My eyes said it all: If he would stay, I would stay. And since Spencer Reid cares about everyone but himself, he closed his computer and packed up his things.

The walk to my car was quiet, and so were the first 5 minutes of driving. I kept glancing at him from the driver's seat, but he was looking out of the window, lost in thought. The guy on the radio made a stupid comment and normally he would have immidiatly complained, but it seemed like he didn’t even hear it. His brain is a beautiful place with a million facts and ideas, yet I can imagine how scary it can be as well. When Spencer gets really lost in his thoughts he begins to spiral and I can just guess that that is what happened at that moment. Only then I came to the conclusion that he wanted to stay and work because that would distract him from anything going on inside.

“Talk to me, Spence.” My tone was pleading, practically begging at this point.

“I’m fine, y/n.” I sighed. I was thinking about just letting it go, but then I thought about him alone in his apartment, stuck in this beautiful scary brain of his. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. I took a deep breath. If you're lost, stick to what you know.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”, he turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Do you trust me?”, I asked again, looking him in the eyes this time.

“Of course I trust you. Why are you even asking me this?”

“We’re making a detour. I’m gonna show you something.” My words didn’t leave room for questions so we just fell silent again. He continued to watch me with a questioning look, but i tried to ignore him. I was too focused on taking the right turns anyway. It was hard to find my way in the dark, but 5 minutes later we were there. I got out of the car and waited for Spencer to do the same and after he did, he seemed more confused than ever. I walked over to the familiar building and fished for a key at the same moment.

“What is this place?”

“It’s an art gallery. My mom used to work here.” I found what I was looking for and started to unlock the door.

“And you just have a key to this place?” If the circumstances were different, I would have laughed at his confusion, however, the circumstances weren’t different.

“Yep.” The door opened and I looked for the light switch. “Come on, just follow me.”

I led us up the 5 flights of stairs and then, after 2 more doors we were finally there. The place that has been the only place I called home for the years before I joined the team.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? We’re not breaking in right now, are we?” At this I did laugh. I stepped further onto the rooftop.

“Relax Spence, we are not breaking any laws.” He was still hesitant so I took his hand and pulled him to the edge. The railing was high, meaning there was no danger of falling down. I let go of his hand and leaned on it. The building was on a small hill and since it had a few stories, you were able to look over a big part of the city. It was always a beautiful view, but that night was extra special. It was a Friday in the late summer, which didn’t only mean the sky was clear, there were also a lot of traffic lights and buildings that shone bright.

I just watched and after a few minutes Spencer stood beside me and did the same. Some time passed before I broke the silence.

“How many people are living in the US?” He didn’t hesitate before answering. It was like a reflex for him by now. I liked to ask random questions all the time and to this day, he always had an answer.

“331.002.651 people.” I paused for a few seconds.

“You can’t protect all of them, Spencer.”

“Y/n I-”

“I mean it, Spence. It is humanly impossible to protect everyone. You can protect some of them, maybe even a lot, but you won’t ever be able to do that if you keep beating yourself up over incidents like today.” He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn’t done. “I know how you feel and I know it’s not easy. There was no chance for you to save that girl, Spencer. Zero. And if you can’t accept that, you will lose yourself. And then you won’t be able to save anyone anymore.” I know it was harsh, however, sometimes that's the only language he understands.

“You could have said all of that in the car.” He paused. “Why did you take me here?” I didn’t expect him to comment on what I said. He knew I was right, that’s all I needed.

“My mom sometimes took me with her on her shifts and after she was done we would go up here. After she died the owner gave me a key so that I could come here every time I needed it. Or needed her.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. This place was the only thing making me feel at home for years and I came almost every day, but when I started working at the BAU I stopped going here more and more. And now I don’t really need it anymore, because my apartment finally started feeling like home. Especially when you are there.” I looked at him while saying that last sentence and I saw him smile for the first time in days. His eyes caught mine.

“Thank you, y/n.” Those words could have many different meanings. Thank you for taking me here. Thank you for staying. Thank you for making me feel better. But it didn’t matter what he meant, because I knew.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to stay for a bit longer.”

And that's what we did. We stayed there for hours. That night we talked through every possible way of how Spencer could have acted differently, yet every scenario ended with the death of that girl. After that he finally accepted that it wasn’t his fault. Baby steps.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reider #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #this one hurt ngl

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cinemassance-oneshots · 3 years

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Don’t Touch Her—Spencer Reid

Word count: 3.6k

angst and fluff

Synopsis: you and Reid go undercover for a case and it goes wrong. You finally hear how Reid feels about you.

Warnings: mention of violence and gore.

A/N: I’m quite new to one shots, so I hope you enjoy. You are free to send in requests. I am still new to tumblr, so I hope to figure stuff out soon on here. I plan to do more characters, make a master list pinned to my board, and do smut chapters in the future <3

I was originally getting my morning coffee until I got the call from Garcia. I pressed my lips together as she confirmed it was another case before I proceeded to ask what coffee she wanted. If I ever got a call about a case and I was already at a coffee shop, I would grab coffee for the rest of the team. It was only fair, and they would do the same for me. We’re all a family.

I carefully carried the trays of coffee in my hands to the building.

“Do you need a hand?” I didn’t have to look up to see who it was. I would know that voice anywhere.

I turned to look at him with a smile. “That would be great, Spence.”

He shot me a smile as he reached over and grabbed a tray. The brief contact of our skin touching made my heart flutter momentarily.

Without hesitation, Spencer opened the door and let me in. “You shouldn’t spoil us with coffee all the time.”

I shrugged my shoulders as I glanced up at him. “It’s fine. I’m keeping tabs,” I joked. “Don’t worry. I got your coffee how you like. Although, I don’t understand why you insist on dairy since you’re lactose intolerant.”

“What can I say? I like dairy.” “But tummy aches,” I replied. “A little pain is worth it.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He could be so stubborn at times. We stepped into the elevator to go meet the rest of our team. Most of them were already seated at the table.

“You’re such a life-saver,” JJ told me with a grin. I smiled back as I started to hand everyone their coffees.

“Last, but not least,” I said as I turned to face Spencer. “Dr. Reid,” I finished in a softer tone. I could’ve sworn I saw him gulp, but I was probably imagining it.

As soon as everyone showed up, Garcia went on to tell us about the new case. We all flipped through our files as she spoke. It’s not hard to admit this job is difficult, especially with how monstrous some people are.

“Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told us as he left the room.

***

Spencer and I were partnered to go to the coroner’s office. The person went over the details as I looked at the bodies and Spencer read the files.

“Can he really read that fast,” the woman asked me, making me briefly glance up at her.

“Yes,” I replied before looking back at the bodies. “You said the male was most likely hit with an iron chain that was also used to strangle him afterwards?”

“That’s what it points to. Why?”

“Wielding a big chain is a lot harder than most people tend to believe,” Spencer informed as he handed her the file back.

“Here’s the other thing though,” the forensics started to speak, “the female victim had lacerations on her skin from leather. It’s possible she was whipped with leather while he was whipped with a chain.”

“We could be looking at two unsubs,” I thought out loud as I looked up at Spencer. He nodded.

“I think so too.” “I’ll call Hotch.”

I stepped outside of the room as I called him. Not long after Hotch answered. “What did you guys find?”

“We’re looking for two unsubs. One is strong enough to wield an iron chain as a whip and the other is weaker since they used a leather whip on the female victim.”

“Thanks. If you and Reid find anything else, let me know.”

And with that, the call ended. I found my way back to Spencer to catch up on any more details he learned. He caught me up on the information, which shocked forensics to see he spoke every detail verbatim.

We thanked the woman before leaving to head to the precinct to catch up with the team.

“What are you thinking Reid?” I glanced over at him as I drove. It was as if I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I know it seems weird, but I think it might be a couple who committed these murders.”

“So the guy kills the male and the girl kills the female. They probably get off on watching each other torture and kill their victim.”

“The male uses a chain to beat and kill the guy showing his dominance and strength.”

“And the woman uses a leather whip which is usually associated with BDSM.”

“Exactly,” Spencer agreed.

As soon as Spencer and I got to the precinct, we told the team what we came up with and what forensics showed. We all went around putting in our input based on the evidence all of us gathered and learned.

Unfortunately, that’s when we all received news there were more victims just found.

I went with Emily and Morgan to look at the crime scene. The victimology was the same. The male was brutally tortured and killed with a metal chain and the female with a leather whip. It’s unsettling to know there are couples who do these things together, let alone a single person.

Once we returned to meet with the rest of the team, we learned each couple went to the same bar the night they went missing. It was no coincidence. That bar meant something to that couple. With all the information we gather, we were finally ready to deliver the profile.

After it was delivered, Hotchner began to talk about a plan he had in mind.

“We need to set up an undercover operation for tonight,” Hotch spoke. “We’ll have multiple people stationed throughout the area to keep an eye out.”

Everyone nodded. Everyone understood the plan.

“Two of my agents will be the ones going undercover. I need as many others as possible to be around the area ready to catch this couple. Be careful and aware of everything, but remember to be subtle. We don’t want to announce our presence before they’ve made themselves known. Any alarm could ruin this.”

And with that the plan was set in motion.

Hotch pulled me and Spencer aside to speak with us. “I need you two to go undercover as the couple.”

I almost wanted to look at Spencer and imagine it was all real. I desperately wanted to know what it would be like to be with him, but I made sure to keep my mind fixated on the case at hand.

JJ helped me get ready. I wasn’t exactly great at doing my makeup myself, so I was glad she helped.

“Try to explain to me why you and Reid aren’t dating in real life again,” she asked with a small smirk.

“I don’t know..,” I softly said.

That was the truth. I didn’t know how to make a move or what to do with Spencer. Every time I thought about it, my palms would sweat profusely and my heart would race that I would have to change the subject in my head.

“I see the way you both look at each other. Trust me, everyone does.”

I quirked a brow. “What?”

JJ let out a small chuckle. “After we close this case, I think you should go for it. I just hope you do it soon, otherwise I’ll lose this bet going on.”

“You have a bet going on about me and Spencer?”

JJ did a sly smile and shrugged her shoulders. “Good luck tonight. We’ll make sure nothing happens to you two.”

“Thanks, JJ.”

I felt a little odd wearing a dress. I prefer slacks or skirts but dresses always felt different to me. I at least felt more secure having one of my smaller guns strapped to my thigh.

“Hey, hot mama,” Derek said with a grin.

I lightly punched his arm. “I can still kick your ass, Morgan.”

He let out a laugh as I rolled my eyes. Hotch walked up and handed me my earpiece. “We’ll be listening to everything. We’ll tell you and Reid if we notice something.”

I nodded as I listened and put the piece in. I let my hair fall over it to help conceal the device.

As soon as Reid walked over, my heart raced at the site of him. It was rare to see him in jeans and a plain button down. He looked good in anything.

Hotch gave him his earpiece as well and told him what he just told me. I almost felt that out of the corner of my eye I saw Reid glance at me a few times.

Spencer and I made our way outside of the precinct to use one of the undercover cars to drive to the place. He got on the drivers side.

“You, uh, look really pretty,” Spencer spoke. His voice came out a little broken and nervous.

I felt my cheeks heat up as I smiled. “Thanks. JJ did a good job.”

I watched as his mouth parted but closed after a second. I wanted so desperately to know what he was planning on saying. Usually he never thought about not speaking once something was on his mind. It made me even more curious.

“You look good too,” I decided to speak. I watched as he gulped and lightly blushed.

“I-I do? I haven’t worn jeans in about 20 years.”

“You always look good,” I mumbled. I was afraid he would hear what I said.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” I replied in a fast tone. “I was mumbling to myself.”

“Oh… Okay.”

I glanced over and saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I asked myself if he heard me or not.

When we arrived at the bar, Spencer opened the door for me like he usually does.

“Such a gentleman.” I smiled and looked up at him.

“Well, you deserve the best.”

My heart fluttered. Did he mean himself? Was he trying to be the best he could? For me?

He held out his hand before I grasped it in my own. I couldn’t deny that it was a wonderful feeling holding his hand. Mine felt so small in his.

We walked inside to find it crowded. Apparently it was a popular bar. It was also happy hour, so that explained a lot of things.

“What would you like to drink,” Spencer leaned in and asked me. His breath on my skin sent exciting shivers down my back.

“Cranberry juice. That way it looks like I might be drinking a mixed drink,” I whispered to him. He nodded.

I don’t know how long we were there, but it felt like a while. Spencer and I sat at the bar sipping our drinks, talking, and looking around inconspicuously.

I leaned in and whispered into Spencer’s ear. “I don’t know if this will be enough to attract them. But when I pull away, act as if I said something enticing to you.”

When I pulled away, I saw a smile on Spencer’s lips as he looked at me.

“I’ve never seen you two in before.”

Spencer and I turned to see a guy in his mid-30’s holding two beers.

“We’re just visiting. We had to try this place out because we kept hearing so many good things,” I replied with a smile.

“We always love welcoming new people. I’m John, by the way. That’s my fiancé Cindy over there.”

He turned and pointed to a blonde woman seated at a table who waved over at us with a bright smile.

“Fiancé? Congratulations,” I told him. “When is the special day?”

“We’re still settling on one. You both are more than welcome to join us at our table.”

I looked over at Spencer to meet his eyes. “Does that sound good, Matt?”

He nodded with a smile as we walked over and joined them at the table.

“Hi, I’m Cindy,” the woman said with a smile.

“June.” “Matt.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope John wasn’t bothering you. We’ve just never seen your faces around here before.”

“We’re visiting,” I answered.

Something in my gut told me this was them, but I didn’t have any proof. Yet.

We spoke with them a for a while. Without thinking, I reached under the table and searched for Spencer’s hand. It was almost like he knew because his hand found mine and squeezed it reassuringly.

“How about another round of drinks,” John asked as he stood up.

“I’ll come with,” Spencer replied as he stood up.

They left leaving me and Cindy alone. “You’re a lucky girl,” she told me.

“You are too. You and John look so happy together.”

“But the way Matt looks at you,” she spoke and bit her lip lightly. “John never looks at me that way. You got yourself a winner.”

“I think we both do.”

I suddenly had a nausea wave over me. “Woah, hun! You okay there?”

“Yeah, I, um—where’s the restroom?”

“Here, I’ll help you. You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t have time to think since I felt like I was about to puke any second. Cindy stood up and helped me stumble my way to the restroom.

I rushed into a stall and immediately threw up. I plucked the piece out of my ear and held it in my palm so the others wouldn’t have to listen to me puking. I know I wouldn’t want to listen to it.

I slumped over after I finished.

“Are you finished yet?”

I could barely form a word as I glanced over and saw the end of a barrel. How could I be so stupid? I just hoped someone would come crashing into the bathroom to get her, but no one came.

“Get up,” she told me.

I could barely stand as I did what she told me to do. I briefly looked around and noticed the restroom didn’t look like a public one but a single person one. I cursed myself in my head.

She grasped my arm tightly and held the gun to my side. “Walk with me like normal and I won’t kill you right here. I want to at least have some fun before I do that.”

There was excitement laced in her voice. It made me sick again hearing it. How someone could be so excited to kill something else. Another human being.

I was led to a van. Every step I prayed someone would come help. Anyone.

I was shocked inside with the door immediately closed behind me. I threw up again. I couldn’t think of when my drink could’ve been drugged.

My legs and arms felt numb as I slumped onto the floor of the van. I wanted to reach for my gun or do something, but my body wouldn’t let me.

I could barely make out the sound of Spencer’s voice as he clung onto me.

“What did you do to her,” he demanded. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry.

“Relax, why don’t you,” John snapped. “She’ll be conscious enough soon.”

And with that, Spencer went unconscious beside me after the end of a gun butted against his temple.

***

My eyelids flickered open adjusting to the lightly. My arms were tied being my back with rope. I looked over to find an unconscious Spencer. I knew my gun was snatched away by them, so the hopes with that were gone.

I softly spoke his name as I tried to move closer to him. A hum left his throat as his head slightly moved. I nudged him lightly a few times.

As soon as his eyes opened, they landed on me with a worried expression.

“Did they hurt you?”

I shook my head as I looked at the small patch of blood on his temple.

“Is your head okay?”

“It’ll be fine… I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Spence.”

“I should’ve paid attention more, then we wouldn’t be here. I could’ve done more to protect us, protect you,” he said as he looked away.

“Spence, look at me,” I pleaded. “None of this is your fault. We’ll get out of this.”

I looked around, but we were in a completely bare room with nothing that could help us. When I looked back at Spencer, he was looking at me.

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I want to make sure the imprint of your features are engraved in my brain in case something happens.”

How could he make my heart swarm in a situation like this?

“This might sound insanely morbid, but if I had to die with anyone, I’m glad you’re the last person I’ll see.”

A small chuckle left his throat. I loved that sound so much.

“That is extremely morbid, but I understand what you mean... I have to tell you something.”

I stayed silent to let him know I was listening. I watched as he glanced down and swallowed hard.

“I want you to know that I’ve liked you ever since you joined the team… I regret never doing anything about it. I guess I was scared.”

Spencer slowly looked back up at me. I almost felt like I was going to cry from both the situation and finally hearing those words leave his mouth.

“I like you too, Spence.”

I wanted to say more, but the door busted open and the couple walked in.

“Well, ain’t that precious,” John said in an amused tone.

Cindy walked closer to me. I tried to move away, but I was helpless.

“Don’t touch her,” Spencer demanded as he lunged forward but was held back my John.

“You don’t get to make demands. I can’t wait to see you watch her die. Cindy is amazing with her craft.”

I felt sick at his words as she wrapped a hand around my throat. Her grasp tightened as she pulled me up. John ordered Spencer to get up as well as they led us to another room.

Spencer was forced into a chair and was tied down as my arms were lifted above me to be locked to a chain.

I watched with disgust as Cindy stroked Spencer’s face. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this one. He loves her so much.”

She smiled wickedly as she glanced up from beside him. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when she takes her last breath. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.”

“Kill me first,” his voice broke out.

“What?”

“Kill me first. It should be me.”

I yanked on the chain as tears threatened to stream down my cheeks. I wanted to scream at him for saying such a thing.

Cindy stood up as she hummed. “I thought John told you that you don’t get to make demands.”

I kept my eyes on Spencer that I didn’t even notice her pick up her whip. It wasn’t until the first slash cut into my skin that I noticed.

A cry erupted from my mouth as my eyes squeezed shut.

Spencer screamed out as he tried to get out of the chair to help in some way. Tears poured down both of our faces.

I could feel my own blood run down my skin as the slashes kept coming. It soaked my torn clothing and my body. My throat finally started to feel hoarse from my cries. My legs couldn’t even keep my body up. Only the chain kept me up.

“FBI, put your weapons down!”

I could barely raise my head to see what was going on. I heard a shot ring out before I felt hands on me.

Spencer gently held me and made sure to not touch the cuts as someone else freed my wrists from the chains. I fell into his arms as he kept me up.

“I need a medic,” he cried out.

My heartbeat was going incredibly fast. The pain was unbearable.

“Someone get a medic now!”

Everything was a blur. One moment I was in Spencer’s arms, then I was in an ambulance with Spencer holding my hand firmly in his before I went unconscious.

***

I woke up in a hospital bed.

I felt something beside me and saw Spencer’s hand holding mine with his head slumped over on the bed asleep. A small smile formed on my lips.

I moved to readjust as I felt a wave of pain sear throughout my body. I hissed at the sensation, which immediately woke Spencer up.

“What’s wrong?” He instantly asked as he looked at me with a worried expression.

“Just the pain,” I replied.

I saw guilt wash over his face as he looked down. His hand left mine. It felt cold and lonely without his touch.

“It’s my fault you’re like this.”

“Hey,” I reached up to hold his face with my hand closest to him, “None of this is your fault. Don’t you dare feel guilty about any of this. You did everything you could.”

Spencer reached up and grabbed my hand. He brought it back to the bed and held it in both of his hands.

“I’m so sorry.”

I gave his hand a light squeeze. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake.”

I grasped his hand tighter to stop him. “In a little bit. I just want to be with you right now.”

Spencer sat back down as he nodded.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” he said as he looked up and gave me his full attention.

I took a deep breath before I parted my lips to speak. “Did you mean everything you said back there?”

His brows furrowed together. “I meant every word. I would never lie to you.”

My heart fluttered at his words. It made me so happy to hear him say that despite all the pain I was currently in. In a way, having him beside me and talking with him made the pain easier.

“I, um, was wondering if maybe we could try a real date once you’re better and everything,” Spencer softly spoke as he looked down at our hands. I smiled at how cute he was being.

“I’d love that.”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #mgg fluff #mgg #mgg imagine #mgg angst #imagine #read more

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

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the mad hatter — g. w. (chapter 2)

Summary: Chief Detective Y/N Weasley had questioned the bakery owner and earned some very important clues. George, in the meantime, had spent a recorder, talking about how he first met his wife.

Words: 2,770 words

Warnings ⚠ : mentions of food and drinks, mentions of murder, thriller, bickering, husband!george, dad!george, sadistic!george, mentions of masochism, fem!reader, mentions of feelings, angst (in a way)

Disclaimer: had to delay the second chapter for 15 minutes because my Word Document couldn't load on my desktop so I had to write the whole chapter down on my phone :') Anyway, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated! Enjoy!

the mad hatter masterlist!

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“Richard Kowalski?” Zabini’s voice caused the plump man to turn around and face them with a tray of freshly baked croissants in his hands. “Yes?” His American accent rung through the nearly empty bakery, it was after lunch hour and a lot of customers had gone back to work. You stepped up, “I’m Chief Detective Y/N Weasley and this is Detective Blaise Zabini, may we ask some questions?”

A few days after George had told you about the bakery, you had quickly informed the team to ask the owner of the bakery some questions. And because it was Zabini’s and Nott’s turns the last time, (and Lav actually coerced talked to Blaise), the tall lean man and you had to be the questioners of the day.

“Am I being arrested?” The question had raised your eyebrow, “Have you done something against the law?” You questioned back, and your suspicions heightened at Mr. Kowalski’s body language; gulping excessively, eyes darting everywhere, licking suddenly dry lips.

“N-No, ma’am.”

“Say, Mr. Kowalski, are you selling these macarons?” Zabini asked as he moved to a basket on the top of the counter. There were neatly placed red velvet macarons; three in one transparent plastic with a dark red ribbon on top. “Oh yes, I do. The customers really loved them, we sold them out every time!” Kowalski happily said, his lips etched a proud smile.

“Then, do you have the records for March 15th? We have the suspicions that a serial killer used your red velvet macarons to poison his victims,” You voiced out after a while being silent, and again, Kowalski paled before you.

“A serial killer? Y-You mean,” he inched closer to you, looking almost scared to actually say the name standing in his mind, “The Mad Hatter?” He whispered in fear.

You furrowed your eyebrows, no one outside of the Homicide department knew of this serial killer’s name yet, so how did he—

As if Kowalski read your thoughts, he froze. He looked around the bakery — empty — and sighed. He nodded to the kitchens, “This way,” he breathed dejectedly. You and Zabini shared a curious glance before following the baker into the kitchens.

After guiding the police officers to the back of his bakery, Kowalski ran his hand through his curly hair, sighing heavily. “What are you hiding, Kowalski?” Zabini asked seriously. Kowalski glanced at the both of you and looked away as if contemplating to tell you the truth. “Mr. Kowalski. If you have any direct contact with The Mad Hatter and you won’t tell us, you’ll be arrested for obstructing justice,” You said sternly.

The man before you genuinely looked conflicted, before he finally sighed harshly. “Fine, there was a guy.”

A clue!

“What guy, Mr. Kowalski?” You asked, encouraging him to go on. “On 15th March, I wasn’t here because I was visiting my gran, Queenie. But 2 months before that, a guy would always come after midnight to this very alley to buy some red velvet macarons,” He bit his lip, closing his eyes in despair. He opened them and turned to the right, an end of an alleyway connecting straight to the streets, noises of engines were faint.

You looked at where he looked, and as if a projector was playing, you could see the mysterious man walking into the alleyway to meet Kowalski.

“He would always buy 3 packets of the macarons. Not more, not less. And he would always give the exact amount of the price and asked for no receipt. After the first murder, Dave Busher,” He looked at you and you nodded in confirmation, while Zabini wrote all the important notes, “I didn’t want to sell him any more macarons at midnight.”

“What happened then?” Zabini asked. Kowalski gulped, “He started to come at daylight. Even without a black hat or a black jacket, I knew it was him. And he knew it too because he smiled every time he looks at me." He shivered at the sudden nerves running down his spine.

“How did you know it’s The Mad Hatter? We never let that name out to the media, Kowalski,” Zabini stated, tilting his head accusingly. You raised a hand to stop him, sometimes Zabini can be too intimidating; brilliant in the interrogation room, but asking around then not so much.

“He told me, that he’s The Mad Hatter.”

You narrowed your eyes, “He told you? When did he tell you?” Kowalski looked down to his feet, trying to remember the exact date. And when he did, he looked up to you, “26th February, that was the last time I saw him and I was so scared to my bones. He told me that he’s The Mad Hatter just like that and I,” a sigh, “I wanted to close the bakery to be safe, but I have kids at home and I’m the breadwinner of the family.”

He turned to you desperately, hands clasping to each other, “Please don’t arrest me! I thought he’s going to kill me if he knew I snitched on him!”

You two were silent. 26th February… it was the day you had received the case, the day of the murder of Spencer Gillard.

After questioning Richard Kowalski (and granted him witness protection), you and Zabini walked back to the car, driving back to the HR.

“Okay wait, how did The Mad Hatter know we call him The Mad Hatter?” Zabini questioned loudly, and you tilted your head in confusion. You were sitting on the passenger’s seat and Zabini was driving. “Is it possible we have The Mad Hatter around us?” You wondered lowly.

Zabini; Blaise glanced at you, “You mean one of us could be The Mad Hatter?” You sighed and closed your eyes tiredly, “Could be. I mean, we only told ourselves about that name and I only told George about it.”

“George? Your husband?” You nodded at his question. “Y/N,” Blaise licked his suddenly dry lips, “Did you ask Kowalski how does The Mad Hatter look like?”

You opened your eyes.

“What are you trying to say, Zabini? That George is The Mad Hatter?” You scoffed, “That’s ridiculous.” Blaise shook his head, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N. But… we all know that Nott doesn’t like telling his cases to people, and Lav and I have no other friends to tell it to. It’s not wrong to be cautious— ”

“This is my husband we’re talking about, Zabini!” You voiced out sternly, glaring at him. “He’s an amazing husband, and a brilliant father to Rafa. He’s the least on the list who could be that sick bastard!” You continued, huffing. “I get it, you and Lavender are dating, but you don’t see me accusing her of a first-degree murder, do you?”

Blaise sighed, used to your short fuse of temper by now, “How did you know about the bakery anyway?” He changed the topic, not wanting to sour your mood even further.

“George told me—” You halted on your words. Huh. George told you. How does he know about the bakery anyway? As far you know, he doesn't really go to this side of town.

And then you remembered Zabini’s first question.

“Did you ask Kowalski how did The Mad Hatter look like?"

Could it be?

“Turn around.” “What?” “I said turn around!”

Click. “Date. March 17th. Subject. None. I want to say something different this time.”

George looked down to his desk, a recorder slowly spinning its inner wheels, prepared to record anything he’ll be saying in the next few minutes. He pursed his lips, purposely pressing hard enough to feel the pain.

Is he a masochist? He’d like to be, in all honesty.

“I wonder what she would say when she found out that I’m The Mad Hatter. That I’m her case,” His lips curled into a growing smile, “That I, am that sick bastard she always talks about at home.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of myself, but here we are,” George chuckled. And then he halted, “Jealous? I’m jealous?” He wondered out loud.

He huffed a cynical smile, in disbelief upon his own honest feelings he didn’t know he even has, “So I do have feelings for her after all.”

It was a silent moment of George gathering his thousands of thoughts before his lips moved to conjure a say again.

“I met Y/N about seven years ago, she had just graduated from the police university and I was running the shop with my brother. She came by to look around and I found her interesting when she told me she’s a police officer,” George continued to talk, staring at the window; watching the cars on the streets continuously moving, reminding him that time is indeed walking away tick by tick. He picked up a small metallic ball from his desk, twirling it around his long fingers in an idle manner.

“Y/N is… she’s innocent and naïve, yet still so strong and stern and confident. She’s fair and just and kind, the perfect idea of a noble police officer. The perfect idea of a perfect person,” the corner of his lips tweaked a bit, George didn’t realize he doesn’t see the window anymore, instead, he sees you, “My exact opposite. For I am flawed.”

“I wanted to play with her, probably just a bit before I kill her with my own hands, maybe strangle her or put something in her tea—” He didn’t realize his fingers stopped moving the small sphere around, “But then… I realized she’s more interesting than I thought.”

“The first time she said ‘I love you’ to me, which was 3 months after we met, I had the urge to dunk a pillow onto her face to not hear any more of the confession coming out of her mouth,” He said, and he laughed afterward, “But I didn’t, instead I told her I love her too.”

His laughter died down and his eyebrows furrowed in all seriousness, “Love… What is love?"

"... Everyone has an answer of their own and at the same time, nobody does. It’s so general, it's so vague that love is,” his fingers unconsciously moved to the metallic ring on his finger, twirling it slightly, feeling the surface shuffle against his skin softly, “Love is everything.”

George blinked slowly , “After that, we got married, she wanted children so I gave her what she wanted, and Rafael came by a while later.”

Rafael. Rafael, Rafa, Rafi. Their son. Their child. His child.

George was silent for a while. He’s… he’s clueless on how to put it appropriately and how it wouldn’t sound odd, especially coming from him, a serial killer.

“… I think the first person I have truly loved in my whole life is my son. I didn’t even know how I feel towards my own wife before Rafael comes along. He’s… he’s pure and innocent, just like his mother and he has the biggest heart there is and it’s,” George didn’t realize he was smiling wide talking about his son, and he paused at the realization he had come across, “It’s something that I don’t have.”

“I realized I had become comfortable with my current life, with my wife and my son. I-I needed to change that or else I-I would lose my mind,” George suddenly chuckled maniacally.

“I would lose my mind and I would be alone all over again. I would be alone all over again without my family because— ”

Despite the crazy cackles coming out his mouth, his eyes were watering profusely, wetting his cheeks and he whispered dreamily, “Because I would kill them.”

“He was a tall man, probably in his 30s, ginger, got a long face and a crooked nose. Why?”

The words of Richard Kowalski as soon as you asked him what does The Mad Hatter looked like had you speechless.

No way. No fucking way.

George couldn’t possibly be The Mad Hatter! Godric Gryffindor, that’s bloody ridiculous!

“Not a word to anyone, Zabini,” You voiced out sternly as soon as you got into the car. Blaise was about to open his mouth to protest, but a look from you was all it took for him to close it back dejectedly.

“There’s like a hundred of guys fitting that criteria, Blaise,” You sighed out, massaging your temples at the sudden stress. The lean man sighed, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N.” “Yes, you are,” You glared at him, “But just because my husband fits the same criteria of The Mad Hatter, it does not mean he is The Mad Hatter.”

“How do you even know for sure? Do you even know him?” His rude comeback had you scoffing in offense, “Excuse me? Of course, I know my husband! I married him for almost 10 years!”

“Then what’s his hobby?” “Playing with Rafa.” “What about his favorite meal?” “He likes hot chocolates and my roasted chicken.” “Do you know his family?” “Just Fred— wait,”

You groaned, “Why am I even answering you, you have no right to ask about my personal life, Zabini.” You shook your head in disappointment, looking away to the window, “This conversation is done. We’re not talking about this anymore, do you understand?”

A sigh. “Yes, chief.”

You leaned your head to the window, watching the trees passing by as the car driven by Blaise continued to glide the streets effortlessly. You sighed quietly, obviously upset that a good friend like Blaise would think such a thing about your husband. The father of your child! Unacceptable!

But that stubborn little voice inside of your head kept singing. It kept singing what-ifs. What if Blaise was right? What if George is the Mad Hatter? What if your husband isn’t so innocent after all? What if you don’t even know George Weasley truly?

What if?

That tiny screaming voice seemed to be volumized into the maximum height, because now on the top of your head, was ‘What if everything is true?’

With that one tiny push, Chief Detective Y/N Weasley found herself standing in front of her husband’s office room. The dark greyish door at the end of the hallway had never looked so intimidating.

You had never questioned why George would have it locked at all times, you only thought his office is strictly his own free space, and you wanted to respect that.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the doorknob. Quietly gulping as you gripped the metallic handle with your palm, pushing it down to open the door and by your luck— or by someone’s plan— the door was unlocked.

But now, all questions ran through your head.

You stepped inside, taking in the unfamiliar space in your house that you had ever seen only once or twice during the 7 years of your marriage. The black walls with white simple baseboards had given the room a minimalistic aura, but considering you are now suspicious of your husband for being a wanted serial killer, you couldn’t help to feel the air in the space eerie and chilly.

You came back home at 3 pm, knowing fully well that your husband and Rafa’s schedule that they were in the park by now, and will be back home no later than 5. It’s a perfect time to snoop around your own house.

A monitor desk was right in front of the door, fully furnished with a computer and all the things needed for a workspace. You walked slowly to the desk, a simple set of metallic drawers had shown themselves to you. There was one particular large drawer, though, that was locked with a little lock.

You wondered, what’s so important in that drawer for George to lock it?

Fortunately, the skill you had picked up from police university had deemed usefully functional. A few friends of yours had taught you how to pick a lock before, and due to legal reasons, they didn’t teach you anything. You quickly retrieved two bobby pins from your dressing room, trying so hard to be quick as you realized the clock was ticking. You started to pick the small lock.

“I believe,” You started talking to yourself, a habit you hadn’t realized, “Johnson had taught me like this,” Turning the bobby pin to the right, “then this,” and to the left, “And then this,” and pushing the upper bobby pin into the lock.

Click!

You huffed in disbelief, an impressed look on your face, “Thank you, Angie,” You spoke to yourself again as you removed the lock quickly and pulled the drawer in your direction to open it.

As it rumbled under your touch, as you felt the weight of the drawer with your arm, as your eyes laid upon the content of the drawer, the only thing you said, and in confusion; may I add, was:

“… Recorders?”

TAGLIST:

@multifandom-but @sirenswhispers @lilac-skies-xd @obsessedunicorn24 @foggyturtleknightangel @evewithluv @softlyqoos @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lilypad-55449 @fiantomartell @hopemalfoyweasley @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @bucketandpotato @klausdatprettyboi @adoregin @littlechillies @phuvioqhile @sweetnspicysimp @wand3ringr0s3 @harrypotter289 @emptyporsche @tallyovie @the-unmanaged-mischief @missmulti @gcdricreads @moonvicake @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @loveboyhalo @lupinsclassroom @breadqueen95 @iwritesiriusly @weasleyclaw @sevsbitxh @freds-slut @acosmis-t @colorfulprofessornickelangel @vote4weasleys @anchoeritic @alluringshawn @cute-sidney @anna-banana-13 @lostaurorax @emrysts @rosietoesy @lilgeorgie78 @prismarts @an2402lths

#george weasley #george-fabian-weasley #harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #george weasley fan fiction #george weasley imagine

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fangirlings-things · 4 years

Text

38 to 58%

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Word count: 1.6K

Summary: on your very first day on the Bureau that seemed to be going just fine, what was supposed to be just a mug of coffee turned out to be much more chaotic than that

anon said: hey could I please have something cute with Spencer Reid, like when a female reader and him first meet in the Bureau? I'm not being very specific but I love your ideas, so hope this is okay!!

A/N: hii lovely anon! I loved this request, it was so sweet and is the first time I'm writing a Spencer story so yayyy! I hope you like this, lots of love and thank you for requesting 💖

GIF IS NOT MINE || TAG LIST: @imaginesofyourfandom ; @locke-writes ; @regalbanshee

You couldn't believe it was finally happening.

After fours years in college studying criminology, two more in the Academy to prepare you in every way needed and a lot of stress in psychological analysis and interviews, you had finally been hired. The Federal Bureau of Investigation gave you a call two days before and congratulated you, because you were now an agent. And as yourself had chosen to be, a profiler in the BAU division.

You had got to the official building very early as instructed to get your credentials with Chief Strauss, a woman who you quickly realized wasn’t someone you would should ever disappoint. After that, she had said you could wait around freely while waiting for your direct superior, the leader of your team, to arrive.

You firstly had sat in silence in some available chairs on the same floor for more than thirty minutes. You waited and waited, and then waited some more. Nothing. No one came up to you like she had said they would. And so, you saw something that attracted your attention. A few other agents, carrying around mugs of something that from the smell, had to be coffee. Turned out, you loved coffee. And as the thought of just sitting around for more unpredictable time made you anxious, you decided after a few seconds of hesitation to get up and make your way to from where those agents had came from.

You decided that for sure, that would be your favorite spot at the Bureau. There was a long counter in one of the corners of the incredibly large division of the floor that you had just entered, over which there were various mugs and the smell of recently made coffee filled the air. Incredibly satisfied and feeling more calm for the first time since you had waken up on that day, five minutes later you had a mug filled with coffee with just the amount of sugar you liked.

Now, you could wait peacefully for as long as you had to.

You began to make your way back to where you had been waiting before, close to Chief Strauss' office. There, you thought, it would be easier for your superior to find you and if there was something you didn’t want, was to cause problems to the man on your very first day.

Your eyes were on the mug, watching the drink wave around a bit inside of it as you walked in a soft, careful pace. You were halfway there, when suddenly everything ceased to be fine and turned into chaos as a body collided hard against yours.

First, you felt it. The hot of the liquid you had intended to drink now burning your chest and hands, making instinctively jump backwards. Then, you felt the wetness of it on your previously dry, white shirt and finally, you smelled it. You were exhaling the smell of coffee as if you had just become a mug filled with it yourself. Oh, no. No coherent thoughts crossed your mind as all you could feel was a slight panic. No, that couldn’t be happening on first day. It couldn’t.

The other person, a guy, looked as bad as you. His brown coat was now filled with dark stains in multiple places and he too smelled like coffee. What was worse for him though, it that he was holding a book. Or had been, at least. Now the pages were wet and partially destroyed. You hated yourself right then and there.

“I am so sorry” you said firmly, imagining to be looking completely stupid, now holding an empty mug. For a brief second, you let yourself really look at the guy and you realized that he was quite beautiful, with short messy hair and curious eyes that had their gaze fixed on you. “I am really sorry, I wasn’t looking and…”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t looking either” he stated, in a tone that held nothing of the anger or frustration you had been expecting to hear. In fact, he didn’t seem bothered at all. “Did you know that statistically, of all burns requiring hospitalization in one year, 38 to 58% are due to hot liquids or steam?” he probably noticed the shocked expression on your face, because he quickly continued talking. “Not that I or you will need hospitalization. I was just telling you a curious fact”

“Oh, I didn’t think that…” you stopped talking, took a deep breath and actually managed to smile, even though you had just ruined both yours and his clothes for that day of work that was just beginning. “I was just shocked because that’s a very unusual cool thing to know”

“You really think so?” the guy with messy hair also smiled and did he have a nice smile. Before you even realized it, he had one of his hands out, offered in your direction. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you shock his hand with the less dirty of coffee of yours. When you pulled your hand back, your eyes went to his book again and you sighted heavily. “I’m sorry about your book” and then, you looked at his coat. “and your clothes”

“Oh, I've read this book five times already. I was just bored” he closed the dripping coffee pages and you were able to read the title. Fundamentals of Physics. That guy was definitely, not ordinary. “And as for my clothes, I have a travel bag in here. I’ll just change”

“Oh” you mumbled, feeling a great amount of relief fill your whole being. Also, a bit of envy. “Wish I had one of those” for the way he frowned at you, you assumed it was normal for agents to keep travel bags in the office. “It’s my first day” you then explained, shrugging.

“Oh, that’s great. BAU?” he asked and you nodded. “Welcome to the job” as you smiled back thankful, a thought seemed to cross his mind and seconds afterwards, his face lit up with something you assumed to be an idea. “Come with me”

You both stopped back at the counter for a moment. He threw the book in the trash can and you placed the empty mug inside the sink. Using napkins, you both dried the most wet places of both of your clothes and then you followed Doctor Reid as he walked through the agent’s desks, completely familiar with the place.

“Emily” he called when you both approached the desk of a brunette agent that standing up with her arms crossed over chest, talked with another agent, a man. They were both laughing at something and suddenly, you felt like an intruder. They both turned to look at Doctor Reid and consequently, at you. “Do you have a shirt to borrow to (Y/N)? It’ her first day and we… well” he looked down at his own coat, and the agent named Emily understood what he meant.

“Yeah, sure” she knelt down and pulled something from under her desk. A black travel bag. Looking inside of it for a few moments, she then got up again and offered you a blue shirt.

“Thank you so much” you couldn’t even believe your own luck and that stranger’s kindness. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you grabbed the blue shirt with one hand and the other, you gave out for her.

“Emily Prentiss” she smiled warmly and sympathetically, shaking your hand. “And please, I’m happy to help. We’ve all had first days” when she pulled back her hand, she crossed her arms again. “Are you going to be in the BAU?” you nodded.

“Congratulations. Hi, I’m Derek Morgan” the other agent gave out his hand and you shook it with a smile on your face. “Who is your unit chief?”

“Aaron Hotchner?” Doctor Reid risked, with something in his voice that you couldn’t quite identify. The others two though, seemed to read right through him by the way they looked at him with small smiles before looking back at you.

“No, Sam Cooper” you answered, repeating the name Chief Strauss had told you before. At the mention of your now boss, you widened your eyes, thinking about the possibility of him having arrived and be looking for you like crazy. “I really have to go. Thank you, Emily. Can I have your phone number, to call you later and return this?” you raised the shirt a bit, smiling, a bit embarrassed.

“Absolutely” Emily turned around to grab a pen.

“Why don’t Reid keep your number?” Morgan suggested, shrugging with a big smile on his lips. From the corner of your eye, you saw that Doctor Reid was looking at him with eyes as widened as yours had been seconds before. “He can give you a call one of this days, we can all go out for drinks or whatever and you can return Prentiss' shirt”

“Yeah, sure” you replied, surprised by the suggestion. Emily gave you the pen she had caught along with a post-it and quickly, you wrote down your phone number. Then, you gave the post-it to Doctor Reid. “Again, I’m sorry Doctor Reid. It was a pleasure meeting you. You all, in fact” you smiled at Emily and Morgan too before rushing your way to the bathroom to change.

“My, my, Reid. Her first day and you already have her phone number. That’s my man” Morgan put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, teasingly. “How did you manage that?” he then asked, although it had been him who suggested that you left Reid your phone number, just to provoque the other.

Eyes still on the door through where you had disappeared moments before, Spencer thought out loud. “I bumped into her and told her the statistics on required hospitalizations related to burns”

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #doctor reid imagine #spencer reid x you

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baubabble · 4 years

Text

“Subtle Differences” Part II - Hotch x F!Reader

PART I FINAL PART

Summary: As you continue working the case in Seattle, you begin to notice more and more that Hotch is staying close to you. With the occasional glance, you start to think that maybe his feelings are real, but doubts start to creep up. When another woman goes missing, you and the team must connect the dots faster to save her and find the unsub before it’s too late.

Word Count: 3743

Warning: Typical CM Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Honest Man” by Ben Platt

Note: Ooh, part 2! This one is the “filler” i guess. Part three is when we get the team in action and a little more hotch x reader moments that I love. That should be up later this week! Also, I have watched this show A LOT, but presenting profiles isnt easy so i did my best. Also, the painting i reference is not real.

-------

The two of you worked in silence for a while as you tried to wrap your heads around the beginnings of a workable profile.

As you both sat alone in the conference room, you could occasionally feel Hotch glancing over at you, but you were determined to keep your focus on the task at hand. This wasn’t like him to keep somewhat distracted while at work. Then again, he was never one to really show any kind of interest outside of work either. Something had changed, but you weren’t what it was yet.

Half an hour later and Spencer and Rossi arrived. “Well, doesn’t this look cozy,” Rossi said as he pushed into the conference room, the doctor following right after.

You didn’t bother in acknowledging his snide comment as you continued to focus on the photos spread out before you on the board. Perotta had brought the maps Hotch had requested and Spencer immediately grabbed his red marker and began his geographical profile.

“All three victims were taken outside of very public places,” Spencer said, gaining the attention of the team. “Mason from outside a church she visited weekly, Rayna from a parking lot across from a major shopping center, and Lisa from outside the public library. Whoever the unsub is, he’s not afraid to take risks in the abduction.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you asked, glancing around at your colleagues.

“It can be either,” said Reid, tucking his hands into his pockets. “However, considering that no witnesses have come forward, he must be using a rather convincing ruse.”

“Or he’s threatening them with a weapon,” Hotch added. Spencer nodded in agreement.

“Something else isn’t sitting well with me,” you revealed. “This method of killing...it seems like you would need to practice it before, right? Maybe not the wax on the body, but at least using it as a method of asphyxiation.”

“You think he’s done it before?” Rossi inquired.

“It’s a possibility,” you said. Hotch nodded and hit the call button on the phone.

“Speak and be heard!” Garcia said.

“Garcia, I need to know if there have been any other murders in the past that resemble the unsub’s method,” Hotch said.

“As in just the wax in the throat or the whole enchilada?” she asked, causing Rossi to smile.

“I think we would have noticed the rest of the ritual, so focus on just the method of killing,” you added.

“I will dig and dig until I can dig no longer. Hit you back!” Garcia said as she hung up.

As everyone got back to work, you got up to get yourself some much-needed caffeine. As you waited for it to brew, you tapped the pen in your hand against the countertop, trying to organize your thoughts. There had to be more to the killings instead of just replicating a piece of art. The woman in the painting had no discernible features so he wasn’t trying to get her exactly right. There had to be another reason for picking three different women from three different places. The mystery was gnawing at the back of your brain.

“You look like you’re overthinking.” You turned to see Perotta leaning in the doorway of the break room.

“Just thinking, actually,” you said, grabbing a cup and pouring your coffee. “There are just a lot of things that are bothering me about this one.”

“Don’t all of them bother you?” he asked with a slight chuckle. You shrugged.

“Unfortunately, you get used to it,” you said, moving past him. Perotta kept close to you.

“Have you always been in the BAU, Agent (Y/L/N)?” he asked, halting you in your step with a hand on your arm. You took a step back, letting his arm slide off of yours.

“No, I used to be a part of an anti-terrorism task force for a while before I transferred,” you explained. Perotta nodded thoughtfully.

“Wanted to get less action?” he asked, with a half-smile.

“More, actually,” Hotch said as he interrupted the two of you. Perotta turned to your boss and you saw him swallow thickly as Aaron Hotchner stared him down.

“Huh, who would’ve thought,” Perotta said, glancing back at you, but you kept your arms close to you and didn’t bother smiling back.

“The others are back,” Hotch said, pulling your attention. You nodded and turned away from Perotta. Hotch followed you back to the crowded conference room. He walked behind you, keeping a hand on the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, acknowledging his perfect timing.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured to you as he held open the door and waited for you to walk through before following afterward, letting his hand fall away. As you joined the rest of the team, you instantly knew something was up. Based on JJ’s concerned face, it wasn’t good.

“What happened?” you asked, taking your seat between Morgan and Hotch.

“The unsub has taken another woman,” Spencer revealed.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “Lisa wasn’t even missing two days. The others were taken a week apart.”

“He’s increasing his abduction time,” Rossi said, flicking through the file.

“Most likely because he thinks he’s running out of time to perfect his replication of the original painting,” Reid said, twirling a pen around in his slender hands. “Though, I am still not sure what connects all the victims together.”

“I may have an answer for you, Doctor,” Garcia’s voice lit up the room from the phone in the center of the round table.

“What did you find out, Mama?” Derek asked.

“Well, honey, I have unearthed something rather interesting. All three of the victims were what you would call art connoisseurs. They all belonged to the same club that focused on fundraising for the arts and preserving historical pieces.”

“Garcia, is the membership for this club exclusive?” Spencer asked.

“Not at all. In fact, the list of members and donators are both available on the club’s website.”

“Considering he didn’t abduct them from their homes, he has to be getting their routines elsewhere,” you said.

“Do we have any information on the newest victim?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Allison Wilson, she’s twenty-four-years old from Port Angeles, and she was taken outside of her gym,” said Garcia.

“Another public place,” Rossi realized. “In the middle of the day too while cops are out in higher numbers. And we thought he was being bold before.”

“Was Allison a part of this art club, too?” Hotch asked.

“Yes,” Garcia confirmed. “A newer member from the looks of it as she just moved to the area.”

“Okay, well if they’re not getting their addresses from the site, then the unsub knows when and where they’ll be,” Prentiss said with a sigh. “Garcia do we have any idea how he’s getting their information?”

“Not yet, but I am working on it,” Penelope said. “I will hit you back once I figure it out,” Garcia said in goodbye and there was a collective sigh within the group.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “I think we have enough to deliver the profile.”

------

Once Perotta had wrangled his officers, your team presented the profile.

“We’re looking for a white male in his early thirties,” Hotch began, pulling the whole room’s attention.

“We believe he has created a scenario in his mind based on a single work of art in which he sees himself as a sort of reaper type character,” Emily added.

“He is posing his victims in the same way as the woman depicted in the Italian painting. “Manto di cera” or “Shroud of Wax”,” Spence continued.

“The painting is set to be on full display at the Seattle Art Museum later this week,” you said, stepping forward. “We believe that the final victim he abducted, Allison Wilson, is going to be his final piece of art.”

“So, what was the point of the other three women?” An officer asked.

“Mason, Rayna, and Lisa can be considered his trial runs. All of it in order to perfect his masterpiece,” Rossi said.

“He is an unhinged individual and will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to make sure he gets what he wants,” Derek said. “You should consider him armed, dangerous, and not afraid to die by suicide or suicide by cop.”

“This unsub thinks of these women as less than human so there is a good chance that he has a negative history with one,” JJ added, ��maybe a girlfriend or even his mother.”

“Whoever this man is, he is connected to the art community here in Seattle,” Hotch said, finishing up. “We’ve set up a tip line, but we are going to have to rely on his previous victims to locate him and Allison Wilson. Thank you.” Perotta then dispersed his officers and everyone got to work on trying to track down the unsub.

“(Y/N) was right, this guy has to have priors,” Morgan said once you and the rest of the team returned to the conference room. “There is no way that he just woke up one day and decided to kill. Not like this.”

“We should look for any non-lethal incidents,” Reid said, “he may have tried to strangle someone first.”

“I’ll get Garcia on it,” Hotch said as he hit the call button.

“Ready when you are,” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, I need you to look for any past police reports where female victims were strangled or suffocated. Not just crimes that seem similar to the wax," Hotch said, reading through the file again.

You watched as his brows pulled together and all you wanted to do was to reach out and smooth down the crease that had formed. You knew stress was all a part of the job, especially when it came to Aaron. He never got a break and when cases arose like this one where there were more questions than answers, it took its toll.

At that moment, you wished for a Hail Mary. You wanted to save Allison, of course, but a simple answer or even just a bit of good news would lessen the weight on Aaron's shoulders.

As if feeling your eyes on him, Hotch looked up. Your (Y/E/C) eyes met his dark ones and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. His eyes glanced down your face for a fraction of a second before he looked away. You didn't even realize Penelope was speaking again.

"Okay, I've been running searches for both kinds of crimes that correlate with the profile, but so far, I got zilch," Garcia said.

"Great," JJ groaned, "another dead end."

“However, fear not, my friends, as I do have something else," added Garcia.

“You figured out where the wax came from?” Reid asked. You looked at him, unaware he had even asked her to look into that in the first place. You also realized that it was something you should have thought of yourself. Your frown didn’t go unnoticed by Morgan who lightly kicked your foot under the table. You nodded to him, assuring him you were alright.

“Not exactly,” Garcia said. “The wax itself is pretty generic. You can get it from multiple different suppliers, but the pigment used in it to make that blood-red color is not sold by the companies. It is an oxidized clay that is regulated and sold from a local artist and I have just sent his name and address to you...now!”

“Morgan, Prentiss,” Hotch addressed, “go pick up the owner and bring him back. JJ, Dave, get in touch with Allison Wilson’s family. Reid, (Y/L/N), keep working on trying to figure out how the unsub is finding his victims from the club.”

“What are you going to do?” Spencer asked.

“I’m going to call and get a warrant for the owners of the charity club,” Hotch said as he stood and exited the room, followed closely by the others.

You and Spencer sat in silence for a few minutes before he swiveled his chair in your direction. "Is there something going on with you?" Reid asked, peering at you over the knee he had propped up on his chair.

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t know, something just seems...different about you,” said Reid as he stared at you with that signature confused look of his.

“Don’t profile me, Spencer,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

“I’m not!” he said, “but I am your friend and I can tell there is something up.” You turned back towards, sighing. Spencer never missed anything.

“Hotch is keeping me under evaluation this case,” you said and he immediately understood.

“I know,” said Reid, “I had to do the same after getting shot. Emily had to do it too.”

“I feel like every move I make… I feel as if I am under a microscope.”

“It’s procedure, (Y/N). Look on the bright side, at least Strauss isn’t doing the evaluation,” Spencer said, trying to lighten the mood. That got you to smile and Reid brightened. “See, I knew I could make you do that,” he said, twirling his finger in front of your face. You playfully swatted his hand away.

“Thanks, Reid.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink and got up to go stare at the board once again.

Looking out at the precinct through the glass walls, you could see Hotch in the Captain’s office. He paced while speaking on the phone. Spencer’s words resonated in your mind as you watched your boss. At first, you thought that maybe he had chosen to take on the responsibility of your evaluation to be closer to you, but now you weren’t so sure. What if it was just procedure after all and you were only reading into it? It wouldn’t be the first time that you read signals wrong. For being a profiler, when it came to your own love life, you could be pretty clueless.

Eventually, Hotch rejoined you and Reid. “Did you get the warrant?” Reid asked, looking over his shoulder as Hotch took a seat.

“Judge wouldn’t approve it,” Hotch sighed, “said because the website is public domain, anyone could have access and that it wasn’t enough probable cause to warrant a search and seizure.”

“Great,” you said, “so now we just have to hope the clay guy gives us something.”

“Do you think he’s a part of this?” Spencer asked. You shook your head.

“No, but he has to know something. Considering how much wax has been used, and not to mention Rossi believes the unsub had trial runs… He must have bought more pigment than the shop’s usual customers.”

“But why would he even leave a paper trail for something as easy as a red dye? You can practically make it out of anything?” Reid asked.

“Because not everyone is as smart as you, Reid,” you said and he smiled shyly, turning back to the board to start laying out the hunting grounds. You looked at Hotch and he was smiling at you, thankful for you praising the doctor. You quirked a brow in question but he just shook his head, returning to his work. You turned away before the blush that welled in your cheeks became more apparent.

“You guys need anything?” Perotta said as he pushed open the door and leaned in,

“We’re fine for now,” Hotch said, his tone filled with dismissal. Perotta pursed his lips, but nodded and left, letting the door swing shut behind him.

“I don’t like him,” Spencer said quietly, his back still turned to you and Hotch.

“I second that,” you muttered.

“You are both correct,” finished Hotch and Spencer slightly turned to look at you with amusement in your eyes. You couldn’t help the laugh that flew from your throat. Spencer chuckled quietly next to you as you tried to get yourself under control. Hotch watched you, completely enamored by the way your face lit up with a smile as you found him humorous. It was better than any drug he could think of, seeing that smile of yours.

------

It was a little less than an hour later that the others came back with the shop owner.

The man, Terry Owens, looked nervous as Morgan took him into the interrogation room. His demeanor alone as he walked into the station was enough for you to know immediately that this was not your unsub.

As JJ continued speaking with the Wilson family, you went to observe the interrogation. Spencer and Emily were going over new evidence while you stood next to Hotch on the other side of the two-way mirror. Morgan and Rossi entered the room, taking a seat across from Owens.

You watched closely as they asked their questions. You could tell that both Morgan and Rossi made the man nervous. He would flinch slightly any time Morgan raised his voice or Rossi shifted in his seat. You and Hotch didn’t say anything as you observed, but the closeness to him was tugging at your mind as you tried to stay focused.

You weren’t focusing on what your team members were asking the man, but rather how he responded to each question. Owens was sweating even though they chilled the room for him. He began slurring his words as he struggled to find answers for each inquiry thrown at him. When Rossi presented Owens with the crime scene photos, the shop owner nearly turned green. Pushing up his sleeves, he took slow breaths, trying to calm down. That is when you noticed the burn marks on his skin.

They were slight and faded, but from your time with anti-terrorism, you knew the signs of torture immediately. You turned to your boss. “Hotch, I think I know what’s going on,” you said.

“You saw something?” he asked softly.

“I think he’s been tortured by the unsub,” you explained. Hotch turned his attention back to the interrogation room for a moment before nodding at you. Sweeping past him, you entered the room. Morgan and Rossi looked at you and then got up and stood back, giving you room to work. “Hi, Terry,” you greeted with a warm smile. “I’m SSA (Y/L/N) and I think I know what happened to you.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked nervously.

“The marks on your arms,” you said, gesturing to the exposed skin. He looked down and his eyes closed as his jaw went rigid. “Terry, look at me.” He did. “Those burns are from hot wax, right?” Owens nodded. “He hurt you to get you to not talk to anyone. He poured the wax on you to make sure you knew that if you talked, you would end up like the women he was killing.”

“I didn’t know he was going to kill them,” Owens said. “Please, I just thought he was into something weird, you know? Like a fetish or some kind of performance art. I’ve seen things like that before. I never imagined…” he trailed off, his hands shaking. You reached out and placed your hands over his.

“You’re okay,” you promised him. “Terry, nobody is going to hurt you again. He is not going to be able to get to you anymore, but I need his name. He has another woman with him now. Her name is Allison and she’s only twenty-four-years old. She has a little sister named Cailey and a mom and dad who are worried sick about her. If we don’t find her, she’s going to end up like these women too.” You placed the other three photos before him again. “They didn’t deserve to die like this and neither does Allison Wilson.”

Owens met your eyes, nearly pleading. “I don’t know his name,” he said. “He always paid in cash and he threatened me anytime I asked any personal questions.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about him? The smallest thing can make a difference.” Owens thought for a moment before he straightened up.

“I once heard him on the phone,” he said. “I was preparing his new order and someone called him. He was talking to them on speaker and they didn’t say a name, but they called him by a nickname.”

“What was it?” you asked.

“Galahad,” Owens said.

“Like the Knights of the Roundtable?” you asked, turning over your shoulder to look at Morgan and Rossi, confused. Morgan, however, was shaking his head.

“That’s what Lisa Bracken’s neighbor called the delivery guy that delivered Lisa’s artwork,” Morgan said before he and Rossi were moving out the door. You turned back to Owens.

“You did great, Terry,” you said. “We’re gonna get him.” You didn’t wait for his response as you followed Morgan and Rossi back into the conference room.

“Hey, baby girl,” Morgan was already saying as you pushed through the door.

“Got something for me?” Garcia asked on the other line.

“The unsub is a delivery guy that delivers specialty art pieces. He works for Ground Express,” Morgan said.

“Okay that is a pretty big company, honey, you’re gonna have to give me a little bit more than that,” Penelope said.

“Garcia, look for drivers that are specifically assigned to the dumping zones. He may be dumping their bodies during a route,” Spencer said.

“Okay, one second…” she said as her hands flew over her keyboard. “Okay, I have four men that work that specific route. Two of them are way too young, the third is African American…” she paused for a second. “And the fourth fits our profile perfectly.”

“Garcia, I need a name,” you said.

“Alan Rhett,” Garcia announced. “He owned an apartment downtown but was evicted two months ago and now he rents a loft space in Belltown. Oh,” she said.

“What is it?” asked Rossi.

“He uses his own truck for deliveries and he hasn’t been to work in a few days.”

“Garcia, send us the address,” Hotch ordered.

“Already did,” she said. “Be safe, my friends, and go get him.”

“Will do, Mama,” Morgan said as he ended the call.

“Gear up,” Hotch said, “We’ll leave in five.” The team dispersed immediately. As you headed for the lockers to grab your vest, a phantom pain echoed through your injury site, but you took a deep breath and tried to center yourself. You were ready for the field, you had to be. Shutting out the echos of gunfire in your mind, you secured your sidearm and went to gear up. You weren’t going to let him kill another woman, not if you could help it.

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

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Irreverent Pt. 34 - Perfect

Title: Irreverent Pt. 34 - Perfect Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 4788

Irreverent Series Masterlist

With Aaron working late, you had decided to call it an early day, pushing aside your unread case files. They could wait. You texted Aaron as you got up to leave, telling him that you were going to be picking up Jack and he could meet you both back at your place. He'd looked up from his work briefly, meeting your eyes down in the bullpen and nodded in agreement. He watched as you walked out with Prentiss, grateful that Jack would get some time with at least one of you.

After you left, he worked quickly, hoping to make it home in time for dinner. It was funny how easily he'd started to think of your place as home too. It seemed the three of you spent a lot more time at your place compared to his apartment, which made sense as it was bigger and usually the place the team would also congregate if it wasn't at Rossi's. But it was also very you and Aaron had to admit that was part of it. Every part of that house felt like you and that made him feel at home - he'd neglected to really do that for his own apartment. Jack's room had the most effort put into it, but even then he knew that Jack much preferred your place as well.

He thought to when the two of you had told Jack that you were together. His son had kind of looked back and forth between you and him and then just nodded in understanding, asking if that meant he'd get to see Y/N more. Aaron wasn't sure what he'd been expecting truly and he had turned to gauge your reaction to it, but you'd just smiled at Jack and said that of course he'd get to see you as much as possible.

And they did - see you - as much as possible. But there was a part of Aaron that felt like he was going about the whole thing backwards. The two of you had reached this level of domesticity that made him finally feel like he had someone there, in this with him - but it also made him feel at unease because he knew there were things that you two hadn't quite talked about. You talked about Jack and you talked about your future and yet every time there was an opportunity to take your relationship further physically, he felt himself balking.

You'd both pushed some limits and there had been some heavy makeout sessions on the couch after dinner or in his office after everyone had left - but between work and all the cases that kept coming up and this odd hesitancy on his part, it just hadn't quite happened yet. He could see the question in your eyes every time as he'd suddenly notice how far the two of you had gotten and how entirely willing and pliant and soft you were under his touch and he'd force himself to stop and say something along the lines of "Oh we should wait" or "Do we really want the first time to be in the office?" And you'd accept it but he saw the question that you didn't ask in your eyes. He didn't really have an answer beyond the feeling that it had been so long for the both of you and he wanted it to be good. No, not good. He wanted it to be perfect. Because you deserved that and he had a feeling you hadn't had perfect and he didn't think perfect could happen when it was hurried and rushed and you were both worried about waking Jack or it was some hotel in Oklahoma with your coworkers in the next room.

He did in fact manage to make it home in time for dinner. He unlocked the front door to your place, letting himself in - that was another thing, who exchanged house keys before they'd slept together? He could hear music coming from the kitchen, and as he walked in he sees both you and Jack with flour everywhere, belting out Here Comes the Sun. He feels his heart swell at the sight.

His laugh turns both yours and Jack's attention to him. "Daddy!" His son runs towards him and he catches him.

"What's going on here?" He points to Jack's little apron and the mess the two of you had made in the kitchen.

"Y/N said we can bake cookies to take to school tomorrow," Jack explains as his father sets him down on the counter.

You're still mixing the batter together, just as covered in flour as Jack. He walks over to you and places a quick kiss on your cheek, swiping at some of the flour on your face.

"You're just in time for dinner," you tell him, covering the bowl and placing it in the fridge, to be baked afterwards.

"Alright, I'm going to go change and I'll help Jack get cleaned up too," he says, going to pick Jack up from the counter where he'd gotten his hands into the flour again.

You laugh and just nod as both Aaron and Jack leave the kitchen. It had been a great afternoon for you with Jack, the two of you had first gone through the recipe book and picked out the cookies he wanted. After a quick trip to the corner shop to grab the missing items, you two had set out and made a bit of a mess, but it had been fun and wholesome and it was moments like this with him that you cherished the most.

*------------*

You were on a case involving kids again. The Unsub had so far killed two fifteen year olds - a boy and a girl - and left their mangled bodies on the porch of their homes for their parents to find. The sight of mangled fifteen year old bodies on suburban porches was enough to turn anyone's stomach. The working theory was that it was another kid - probably a wronged classmate.

"Teenage Unsubs are the worst - they pretty much all profile as sociopaths," Derek says as the team finishes the briefing on the plane.

"I mean, you remember being a teenager - all that angst and drama built up in your head. Even the slightest thing could set you off," Emily responds while getting up to get something to eat from the back of the plane.

"Not everyone was a goth with mommy issues Prentiss." Derek's smirking in that self assured way that reminds you that despite everything he's been through, boy still grew up to be a popular jock.

You have to hide your snicker as Emily throws a middle finger in Derek's direction.

"You know," Spencer speaks up from beside you on the couch, "we don't know what you were like as a teenager, Y/N. I mean Derek was a jock and Emily was a goth and JJ claims she was a sweet soccer player but let's be real we all know she was a mean girl." JJ just rolls her eyes at Spencer. This was an old argument for them. "What were you like?"

"Umm, I don't know, normal I guess?" You shrug, feeling a little put on the spot - how do you explain what you were like as a teenager to a group of profilers and not have it be torn apart?

You hear a scoff and you all turn to Hotch whom the uncharacteristic sound had come from. He usually didn't let himself get drawn into these conversations.

"I'm sorry, you have something to share with the class, Hotch?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He looks up at you, shaking his head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You were not normal. Come on." He has the slightest of smirks on his face, alluding to how much more he knows and how much better he knows you, compared to anyone else. Thin ice buddy.

"He's right," Emily chimes in, "We all know you were THAT girl."

"Who is THAT girl?" you ask, using quotation marks. They all look like they're agreeing with Hotch and Emily and you have no idea why.

"Ha! The only person who would have to ask who THAT girl is, is someone who was THAT girl," Derek answers, looking far too pleased with the turn of conversation.

Rossi is simply sitting there turning through the case files, watching the exchange in amusement, the way one might watch toddlers interact with one another as though they're adults.

"I believe what they're all talking about," Spencer explains, "is you were the person that everyone at school liked - but they didn't know why. You were nice but not too nice. You were polite and cordial but you didn't really have friends. Popular without even trying to be. Every guy probably wanted to date you but no one could have you. And seeing as you went to a new school every few years, you got to hold on to your whole mysterious stranger thing."

You have no idea how to react to that assessment. Spencer was a good profiler, no doubt, but this seemed rehearsed almost. And they were all agreeing with him. Like they'd all talked about it before…

You narrowed your eyes and looked only at Hotch. There was no way that was Spencer's profile - at least not his alone. "He came up with that by himself, did he?"

His smirk just gets deeper because he knows they have it - you haven't denied it.

"Do you all just sit around and talk about me? Is that it? You need lives." You roll your eyes, the smallest of smiles making its way onto your face before they all dissolve into fits of laughter at your expense.

*------------*

Two cases with kids back to back was a lot and its toll was obvious on everyone. You'd managed to identify the Unsub as Nathan Crest, a fifteen year old who was kidnapping classmates he had a grudge against. He'd already gone through three out of the five names on his list that Penelope had found on his blog. The fifth girl was in custody but you'd been too late and the fourth - Casey Adams - was taken that morning on his way to school.

"Garcia, have you checked any other blogs or social media he might be updating in order to track him?" Hotch is frustrated that they haven't found the Unsub yet and every second is time wasted because he dumps his victims within 24 hours.

"Sir, I'm tracking any information we have on him and if he as much as logs in, I'll know. But until he does, we don't have much."

Casey Adams' parents have been at the police station all day and JJ has been sitting with them, trying to better understand why Nathan might have a grudge against Casey specifically. Unfortunately, parents rarely think their own kids are problematic and so far they'd been unhelpful and hysterical.

The problem was, there wasn't a pattern. Every name on the list seemed random at best with no connection to Nathan, and the team hadn't been able to pin down motive at all. Nathan's parents were refusing to help the police. You'd had to draw the conclusion that these were all perceived slights by Nathan who had chosen to escalate and devolve quickly.

You were looking over the victimology again to better understand maybe where he was holding them. The first girl, Tabitha Avery had been sweet, leader of the church choir with the voice of angel apparently. Gregory Smith, the first boy, was the lead player on the soccer team, and Amy Tabot was captain of the debate team. They all had such bright and happy futures ahead of them. They were all well liked, popular but not too popular, they were all nice, good kids who didn't bully Nathan by any means. So what was the connection?

There's a small thought tingling in the corner of your brain, and so you pull out the file on Casey Adams. Casey was a seemingly good student and was lead of the school play. You also pulled out the file on the final girl, Rebecca Stump - she was safe at least. Rebecca, it appeared, was a straight A student, always on honor roll.

Funny how they're all accomplished kids in one way or another. Sports, music, debate, theatre, and academics…

"Um, Hotch?" You try to get his attention because you're pretty sure you have a thought and it might just be it.

He looks at you, eyebrows raised in question. "You have something?"

"I think so," you respond, showing him all of the kids' files. "They were all accomplished kids in one way or another - they were all y'know THAT girl…or boy I suppose."

"You're thinking, what if Nathan wanted to excel in all of those things as well?" He's nodding along and adding on, catching up to your train of thought.

"Yeah, and if that's the case and he targeted them because they have something or are good at something that he wants to be good at - wouldn't you want to hurt them in the exact place where you had to face their talent?"

"School theatre."

"Yeah."

He's already calling it in as you gear up to head out.

By the time you get to the school, SWAT has the entire theatre building surrounded and the school campus was long cleared off. Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ are entering through the front of the theatre while Rossi and Spencer take the side entrances, leaving the back entrance that leads to the stage, for you and Hotch.

As you slowly and silently inch your way in, you can see Casey Adams tied up to a chair, at the edge of the stage. You and Hotch make eye contact and he indicates to you to go from the right side of the stage and he'll go from the left. Morgan has already confronted Nathan and they're talking, with Morgan trying to talk him down from hurting Casey.

You can see that Nathan has a gun, but also a knife stashed in the back of his pants. He's waving the gun at Casey.

"Nathan," you hear Hotch try to engage him now. "You won't get anything by hurting Casey, but you do risk losing everything. Let us help you."

"You won't help me! All you'll do is ignore me and throw me away because I'm not good enough or smart enough or talented enough for them!"

He's devolved quite a bit and you feel your stomach sinking as he's not backing down.

He goes to press the trigger of the gun now pointed at Casey's head and you hear two gunshots. You see that Casey had made a valiant jump forward off the edge of the stage and just barely missed being shot. Derek's bullet was now embedded in Nathan's skull.

*------------*

The plane ride back had been muted. Both Derek and Hotch were blaming themselves for not being able to connect with Nathan fast enough to talk him down and prevent his death. You knew that Aaron would feel the guilt and the weight of the death of a kid - even if he had been the Unsub. He wouldn't focus on the fact that the other child survived - that'd be far too easy for Aaron Hotchner.

You'd all landed late at night and Jack was still with Jess. Aaron had followed you back to your place at your urging, knowing that him being alone right now would be worse.

You waited at the doorstep, for him to park, and let the two of you in. Wordlessly, he moved to the kitchen - a drink was very much needed. He reached your liquor cabinet and pulled out the scotch that was kept there for him and Dave along with two glasses. You'd taken off your shoes in the foyer and joined him, hoisting yourself onto the island, your legs dangling in front. He was pouring out the liquor for the both of you and turned to hand you a glass, before leaning against the opposite counter.

You didn't know how to help him, comfort him. He looked so exhausted and so done and while you'd tried to talk to him on the plane, you knew it had fallen flat. He wasn't going to just snap out of it because of a few words. So instead you sipped at the scotch he'd handed you, wincing at the burn of it going down your throat and leaving behind a heat in your chest.

He was drinking silently, contemplatively, his brow furrowed and his shoulders hunched. He'd dropped his jacket on the couch on the way in and the sleeves of his shirt were folded up to the elbows, his tie loosened around his neck and the collar button undone. Only the dim lights running underneath the cabinets were on and the shadows cast on his face made him so much more picturesque - like an old time Hollywood star, you think fondly.

"We should fuck." Your blunt words cut through the silence, prompting him to look up in surprise, unsure if he'd heard you correctly.

"Excuse me?" No, there was no way that's what you'd just said - he was hearing things. He watches as you slowly place your glass on the counter, a fair distance from where you're actually seated. Your body is tense and the look on your face suggests that even you were surprised by what you'd said. But your eyes - brazen and fiery - betrayed only by the slight tremor he caught as you moved your hand back towards you, your eyes told him that you knew exactly what you were saying.

"You heard me." You take a deep breath as his eyes are still on you and he's put his glass down on the counter behind him. "We should fuck." You can feel your heart beating fiercely in your chest - in fear of rejection or anticipation - you're not sure which.

Aaron's moving to come closer to you and you part your legs, allowing him to stand between them. He's not really doing much besides watching you curiously, so you reach out and wrap your hands around his shoulders and meet his eyes. He seems conflicted as he asks you, is voice soft and uncertain, "Is this because of the case?"

You swallow before pulling him closer, placing a light kiss to the edge of his face, close to his ear. The shiver that runs through him is entirely involuntary. "A little," you admit, your voice low and your breath warm against his ear. "But also because I really want to." You place a small kiss at the top of his ear. "And because I think you do too." The lightest brush of your lips touches his jaw. "And no matter what it will never be exactly perfect." Another kiss gently placed on his cheek. Your fingers are intertwined around his neck now. You tilt back so you can see his face properly. He looks dazed and his breathing is harsher. His hands have found their way around your waist, slowly caressing back and forth. "And because we should really really fuck."

His lips crash into yours almost immediately and he can feel you smile into the kiss before he invades your mouth. Your legs cross together behind him, and you pull yourself flush against him so there's no mistaking exactly where you want this to go. You break away from his mouth and move your attention to his jaw and neck, your hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt in the quest to feel skin.

You manage to undo his tie and toss it aside, before he grunts out, "We're not doing this in the kitchen." Cupping your ass and picking you up, your legs still wound around him, he easily makes the trek up to your bedroom. By the time he arrives at your door, his shirt has been entirely unbuttoned and pulled out from his pants and your lips have scorched every inch of reachable, visible skin.

His hand fumbles with the light switch by the door, and as you pause your exploration to look at him in question, he explains, "I wanna see you." His voice is strangled and yet still firm and you find yourself nodding in understanding as he manages to get the lights on and carry you towards the bed. He puts you down to finish taking his shirt off and watches as you shimmy out of your own pants and top while you wait for him, leaving you in only your bra and underwear.

You could feel yourself growing warmer as you watched Aaron undo his belt and take his pants off, from your spot on the bed. His eyes had been trained on you the entire time as you'd shed your clothing and his gaze over your body caused a shudder to run through you. There was a part of you that had expected him to put this off again and the fact that it was happening at all - finally - felt like a miracle. You'd wanted him to feel comfortable and ready whenever the two of you did become intimate but you wouldn't lie and say you'd enjoyed the wait. You might be a prude with other men, but with Aaron you'd felt ready for so long that it had been really hard to have the tables turned and have him be the one stalling.

You tried to commit this image of him to memory, standing in your room, breathing hard, hair rumpled from your hands running through it.

Having gotten down to his boxers, he leaned down to kiss you again, gently pushing you further along the bed, towards the headboard. His hands exploring the new skin that was exposed, and the feel of him touching you after so long was nothing short of exquisite. His hand reached around to the back of your bra, pausing until you nodded, before he deftly undid the hooks, allowing it to fall forward and off.

His eyes went to your breasts immediately and he notices some writing on your skin to the side that the bra had covered - date in elegant black script. You saw the question in his eyes. "Julian's birthday," you explain, your voice low and hesitant. He nods in understanding before pressing his lips to it. No one had ever been this gentle with you.

Aaron is determined to paint your skin with his lips, ghosting over the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, until his mouth reaches the top of your underwear. He looks up at you, meet your shining, anticipating eyes, before quickly ridding you of your underwear as well. The first touch of his mouth to your heat has a moan escaping your lips. With one hand on your stomach to hold you down, he licks up your slit, drawing another moan from you. Your hands are scrambling for something to grab onto and he helps you find his, fingers intertwined with yours, while continuing to lick and nip gently at your clit.

You are so wet and everything is so warm and of course he'd be good at this. The only grounding force are his hands in yours because otherwise you've been gone since the second he went down on you. You can feel the knot growing tighter and tighter in your stomach, your breaths hard and shallow, and your toes curling. Your hips buck into his face as you feel your orgasm wash over you, his name expelled from you. He helps you ride through it, stopping only when your trembles end and your legs go limp.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, moving up to meet your mouth again and kissing you languidly, as you taste yourself on him. He truly believes it - flush with color, hair mussed, a thin layer of sheen over your body, and the slightest of lazy smiles gracing your mouth - you've never looked better to him.

You reach for the top of his boxers, eager to see all of him and return the favor, but your hands are too clumsy and he has to help, shedding them himself. You feel your eyes widen at the sight of him. You'd suspected of course that he would be big, but wow. Before he can stop you, you've leaned down and kissed the tip, licking up the precome gathered there and the reaction is instantaneous.

"Fuck." His voice is guttural and the sound is like lightning through you.

You find yourself grinning dazedly up at him. Aaron Hotchner does not swear. Not usually at least.

The sight of you bent down in front of him, your mouth on his cock is likely enough to finish him. He has no intention of that however. He manhandles you to lay back against the pillows and climbs over you, his mouth meeting yours once again. You bring your hands back to his shoulders as he pulls away from your mouth to line himself up with your slit. He meets your eyes, before kissing you again and pushing in. The way you grasp him, wet and warm and tight, has him groaning out loud.

When he meets your eyes again there's only one word in his mind - Mine. He's not sure where this incredibly possessive thought came from but it has him pulling back out and then in again with a staggering force.

Your mouth is right near his ear, lips just at his ear and this moan is meant just for him. "Yours."

Had he said it out loud? He had. He had if your lust blown eyes are anything to go off of.

FUCK.

His hands find your breasts, tweaking the nipple into a hardened bud, and it's all so much and you're not ready to come again so soon. He can feel you pushing up at him.

He pushes in again, before flipping you over, still sheathed inside. He's deeper but you have more control now. You meet his mouth and swallow his groans as you rotate your hips on top of him, using his shoulders as leverage to move yourself up and down. It's all moans and hard breathing and he's never looked this vulnerable, letting you take control like this. His warm brown eyes are so so dark and his hands are skimming down you, finding your arms and then your hands, off of his shoulders, intertwining your fingers again and helping you move.

"You're close, sweetheart." It's not a question, he can tell as your hips have lost their rhythm.

You can't respond, so you only nod as his hips take control, thrusting up into you and his thumb finds your clit. Once, twice. And you can feel yourself falling and falling. It’s hard to breathe and you come with a silent scream, shuddering through the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced.

You're pretty sure you blacked out for a moment, because when you come to, he's maneuvered you to your hands and knees and he's behind you and all around you and when you look up you can see the two of you reflected in the mirror in the corner and his hips are slamming into you towards the finish line. I wonder how many times he's thought about that. You watch, mesmerized by the sight, as he lifts you with an arm wrapped around your breasts, his chest flush against your back, his other hand finding your clit and his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of wet open mouthed kisses.

"Come on sweetheart, one more, come with me." You can feel his hips stuttering as he quickly and efficiently gets you to your third orgasm. You turn your head to meet his lips as he spills into you, swallowing his groans as he pushes you off the edge with him.

He slowly slips out of you and that incredibly full feeling leaves you. The two of you fall back towards the bed, him dragging you with him, on top.

The two of you lay like that for seconds, minutes, it could've been hours really, your mind is too hazy to remember.

"You were wrong." His hands are trailing through your hair gently and his voice is soft and almost sleepy.

You look at him with half-lidded eyes, from your place half on top of him. "About?"

"It was perfect."

The smile on his face, was everything.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #irreverentseries

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

Text

Page Numbers

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of crime scenes, mentions of rape and sexual assault, murder. Just getting into the angst guys...

A/N: So I decided after like two people responded (thank you guys) to split the second part into two because it was so ridiculously long. You guys don’t even want to know how much I had to cut off this to end this at a place I felt comfortable. Rest assured, you’ll probably get the next part tomorrow. Remember to like, comment, reblog, message me, send me asks, and just do anything to feed my constant need for praise and attention from strangers. As always, thank you so much! I love you all and I hope you enjoy!

___

[Part One]

“I can never figure out if I like local cases more because I get to sleep in my own bed every night we work the case, or if they make me more uncomfortable because they’re so close to home.”

Rossi glanced at Morgan, who cast his eyes to the review mirror as he spoke. Reid sat in the back, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips as he read something on his phone.

The youngest member of the BAU team had been uncharacteristically chipper over the last three weeks, constantly taking calls or responding to texts. Even when he started to ramble about something no one was really interested in listening to, the topics were about things that were of a happier nature. Things like a single grain of rice having five times more DNA than an entire human being has in their whole body, or that the term ‘nerd’ first showed up in print in the book, If I Ran the Zoo, by Dr. Seuss published in 1951.

He shoved the cell back into his pocket, looking up into Morgan’s eyes in the mirror. He knew that they knew that something was up, but he didn’t want to say anything until it got a little more serious. And it was rapidly going that way. Spencer had spent nearly every second of his free time with you, doing things like getting coffee or going back to the bookstore that just so happened to be forty minutes out of his way.

In fact, just last week you had come over to his house to have dinner and watch a movie. You begged him to watch The Princess Bride instead of some very obscure French movie that no normal person would actually own.

“I love all the new and intelligent things you show me, Spencer, but I want to show you a new and slightly less intelligent thing. Let me rub off on you for a change.”

You quoted the entire thing, your lips silently moving with every word spoken during the movie. Afterward, you confessed that you had read the book even more than you’d seen the movie and could probably quote it just as easily. He picked up a copy from the library this morning before coming into work. While he hadn’t had the chance to read it yet, or either of your own published works, he was determined to finish it before he saw you again.

It was only 493 pages, so it shouldn’t take him that long.

“What?” He blinked, his brows dipping dangerously close to those impossibly long lashes of his. Morgan looked back to the road, his own amusement twitching at his cheeks.

The car bumped over a dip in the road just before they pulled into the already packed driveway of the crime scene. Rossi shut the car off and Morgan pulled his sunglasses on before getting out of the car, but not without a teasing comment.

“Get your head in the game long enough to solve this case and you can go back to whatever has had your attention these last couple of weeks. Okay, kid?” The blush that colored his cheeks was the same shade as when he realized you were staring at him in awe that first time you met.

Inside, the mood of teasing and distractedness changed. Everyone focused while crime scene techs circled the room taking pictures and gathering every bit of tangible evidence they could possibly find.

The first victim, or by the looks of things, the last victim, was a male in his early to mid-forties. His salt and pepper hair was combed back and styled, his beard perfectly trimmed. Even in death his clothes were unrumpled, only the pool of blood-soaked into his khaki pants and maroon shirt ruined the look of an otherwise very put-together man.

He was slouched in a wooden chair pulled into the living room from the dining room table, his hands bound behind his back with three blue zip ties, his ankles bound to the legs of the chair exactly the same way.

“The victim is forty-four year old, Joseph Kyle. He’s a lawyer with Kyle & Anderson. Cause of death appears to be two gunshot wounds to the chest.”

The next victim was a woman. She wasn’t as put together as her husband, laying in a pool of her own blood on the kitchen floor. Bruises and cuts littered her arms and legs, massive handprints still marred the skin around her biceps. It went without asking that she had been sexually assaulted, her underwear hanging on the knob of a drawer and her skirt bunched around the top of her thighs.

“Synthia Kyle, forty. Stay at home mom. She was stabbed sixty-one times in the abdomen, chest, and thighs.”

The last three victims were children. Each in their own rooms, each tucked into bed and shot in the head execution-style. One look around the room and anyone would know that they were happy kids, smart and well-rounded, and loved.

“James, Massey, and Devan Kyle. Seventeen, fifteen, and ten. All shot in the head.”

For all the evidence that could be seen with their eyes; the brutal attack against the mother, the cold killing of the father, and the remorseful executions of the children, it shouldn’t have been so hard to form a profile.

“And where is the number?” Reid turned his whole body away from the little boy's room, the image of him lying in bed with his eyes closed and a bullet hole in his head was enough to turn the pits of his stomach against him.

The lead detective, a slight man with inky black curls and piercing blue eyes, led them into the dining room. The number ‘302’ was smeared across a painting hanging on the wall, the blood so thickly layered over the Botecelli copy that is dripped down and over the golden frame.

“At first glance, it would appear to be a family annihilator. His primary goal being the rape and torture of Synthia Kyle, and the rest of the family simply casualties of his rage, but just like the last three crimes, there is nothing even remotely similar in victimology or the killings.” Reid’s lips skewed to the side, crossing his arms and combing over every detail.

“Alison Crane was sexually assaulted as well.” Morgan offered the information up with skepticism, aware that, besides the numbers at every crime scene, it was the only thing that could be pulled from the two. Rossi shook his head, his eyes scanning the air as he thought.

“Alison Crane was kidnapped and beaten before she was found three days later on the Chesapeake Bay. Her wrists slashed. She was staged with remorse, a-a cloth laid over her eyes and her arms crossed over her chest. That couldn’t have been done by the same unsub.” Rossi looked over at Morgan because even still, they knew that it was the same guy because cut into the top of Alison’s arm had been the number nineteen.

It had taken Reid all of two seconds to realize they were page numbers when he’d seen the piece of paper that had been pinned to the second victim’s chest. Obviously torn from a book, the triangle scrap of paper had only had the number 85 printed on it.

And just as difficult as it had been to pin down a book during the Fisher King case, it felt as if it was ten thousand times harder to find the book being used now. All they had were page numbers and murders. They’d narrowed the list to crime novels, but there were still so many books on the list that even with Reid, it would take years to sift through them all.

Garcia has been sad to watch the young doctor leave her office in disappointment when she revealed her ability to narrow down books was still no good. Not that it was her fault since the lack of a central database for every book known to man, made it very frustrating for anyone that tried to narrow down a book based only on crime scenes. And this was still given the assumption that this book was actually published and not a story the unsub had written himself.

This would be the third homicide in this case, the first one done since the FBI had been asked to assist the DCPD. The crossing of victimology and the numbers on the victims had been enough for unit chief, Hugh Lowe to pick up his phone and request for the BAU to stop this man.

Other than the book revelation, and the geographical profile that Reid had come up with, there wasn’t much progress. It had only been two weeks since the death of the first victim and now their unsub’s body count had gone from two to seven.

A young woman kidnapped outside her dorm in Georgetown, held hostage, beaten, and raped for three days, then staged at the Chesapeake Bay with her wrists slashed and clean clothes on.

An older man was beaten in his home while his wife is away on business overseas, killed with a tire iron to the back of his head, stripped of his clothes, which sat folded beside his splayed out body, his ring finger cut off. His wedding ring had been on the clothes beside him but they couldn’t find the finger.

And now a family of five.

It was frustrating, to say the least, each agent so annoyed by the case that none of them spoke on the ride back to the BAU.

“So I don’t have the book, mon ami, but I do have a possible connection in victimology and a shortlist of possible suspects, or at the very least persons of interest,” Garcia said excitedly when all three glowering men came through the clear doors of the BAU. They each lifted their heads and eyebrows with piqued curiosity.

“My link is Georgetown. Alison was going there for a major in political science, Mr. Walters had been a chemistry teacher there before the death of his first wife ten years ago, and I just found out that our newest victims, Synthia and Joseph, met there in the spring of ‘88 as a senior and a freshman.” Garcia had to admit that their minds were quick to gather the information, turning it over in the cogs that constantly spin inside their brains, but her mind was faster.

“Did you-“

“Cross-reference Georgetown alumni with a list of crime novelists? And then cross-reference that list with people who lived in Spence’s comfort zone? ‘How did you know to do that Garcia?’ you may ask. Because I’m a genius. Quick, boys, follow me.” Her heels click in rapid succession as she leads the men into her office of computers, colorful do-dads, and pictures. When she takes a seat, Morgan leans directly over her shoulder, Reid standing just behind her, and Rossi stands just to the side of him.

The list that pops up is only four names, the tension that has been in all of their shoulders relaxes a little at the first stride in the case that they’ve made sense they started working it. Reid’s shoulders tense up again when he notices a familiar name that sits at the bottom of the list.

“This one, click on it.” He points to the line at the end and watches as Garcia moves her mouse over to the area he was pointing to and clicks to reveal a face he knows too well.

You smile back at him in your freshman year Georgetown photo, a set of bangs cut that you don’t have anymore. In the picture you seem impossibly young, your eyes full of excitement, although he knows that you aren’t that much younger than he is. Even still, for some reason, he half expects your smile to be missing teeth you seem so young.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a master's in criminology. She’s published two crime novels in the last two years. She doesn’t have too much of an eventful life; she isn’t married, has no children, pays all of her bills on time, has no detectable significant other. Mom is a detective with the Atlanta PD, Dad walked out before she was born, no siblings, nothing more than a couple speeding tickets against her.” Rossi pulls one of his hands from his folded arms, pointing at the picture with squinted eyes.

“I met her last year, very briefly, at a publishing party. We couldn’t have talked for more than ten seconds, but she seemed like a good kid. You think she’s our unsub?” Everyone looks to Reid, his expression is stone cold and unreadable.

Garcia almost wishes she hadn’t made the connection in the first place as she watches the muscle in his jaw tick, his eyes flying across the screen several times before he turned away from the group’s prying eyes. Nerves of a whole other kind had exploded inside him, forcing his hands to open and close like fluttering butterfly wings at his sides.

“I’m not sure. Just call her in for questioning.” He wants to say he doesn’t think it’s you, mostly because he doesn’t want it to be you. The thought that he could have invited a serial killer of this magnitude into his life, into the life of his team, it makes him even more nauseated than he had been earlier standing in the middle of a messy crime scene.

But when he runs to the library and finds both copies of your books, flipping to pages nineteen, eighty-five, and three hundred and two, he almost cries. On each page reads a word for word, detailed description of every murder that had happened in this case so far. The first girl even had the same name as the first victim.

By the time you make it to the BAU and you are escorted to the interrogation room, he’s read both books cover to cover. He keeps telling himself that there’s a chance you weren’t doing this, that you weren’t the killer, but it’s so hard to believe when you were the mind behind every murder.

As he looks at you from behind the one-way window pane, a mixture of anger and, strangely, hope has begun to swirl around his chest.

“You sure you don’t want to come in with me?” Prentiss says, looking back at the doctor as she reaches for the door. Spencer shakes his head, lips pursed and heart racing. He couldn’t go in their unbiased, willing to accept that you could be the unsub he’d been chasing for the last two weeks.

“Hi, I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU, nice to meet you, (Y/N).” She stretches her hand across the table and you return in kind, your shy smile stabbing into Reid’s heart like a knife.

“I’d like to say it is nice to meet you too, but I wish it were under other circumstances.” The chair across from you screeches on the floor as Emily pulls it out to sit in. She absentmindedly flicks her slick black hair over her shoulder before laying the files in front of her.

“Unfortunately, I’m always under circumstances like these, working at the BAU.”

“‘Bad guys don’t take days off,’ that’s what my mom used to say,” You glance at the file on the table, chewing the inside of your cheek like you were trying to keep yourself from saying anything more, “I was told I was needed to give my opinion on a case? Although, I’m not sure how I could be of much help. I just write.”

Spencer watches you push a piece of your hair behind your ear with a small chuckle, glancing at the window like you could see him behind it.

“You’re a published author of two books, not just any writer.” Prentiss is relaxed, letting the case file sit between you like a hook dangling between a fish and a fisherman. You keep looking down at it, curiosity eating away at your nerves the way it used to when your mother came home with a new case.

“Tell that to my mom, she’s still holding out on me joining law enforcement.” It’s a joke, but every profiler watching reads into it. It isn’t hard to fit it into a working profile, the unsub feels unappreciated in her skills as an author with the apparent disapproval her mother has over her career. To both appease her mother and stake her claim as a serious author, the unsub is killing the same way she’s written in her books.

“Why didn’t you? Join law enforcement, I mean. You’re obviously very intelligent, you had a masters from Georgetown at just seventeen, and you seem to have a pretty good grasp on the politics and procedures of law enforcement careers.” For just a moment, you consider the question and your answer to it, but Spencer can see the exact moment that it clicks in your mind on what exactly is going on.

Your entire body language changes; your shoulders curling in toward your body, the chewing of your cheek intensifying, your hands pulling back from their relaxed position on the table and tangling themselves into your lap.

“I’m not here as a possible expert witness, am I, Agent Prentiss?”

Emily responds by opening the file, at last, pushing the pictures of the crime scenes across the table for you to have a look at. Seven pictures splay out in front of you and it doesn’t take you long to register the familiarity behind them all. You have to swallow the bile in your mouth before you speak again.

“I’m a suspect.”

“You’re the only suspect.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

wings & the way down - part 2

Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~1580 this chapter

Warnings: Mild angst. Allusions to ~mysterious~ backstory. Strangers with cookies.

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments on the last part! Catch up here if you missed it. Tag list for this is open.

Friday, January 3: Derek

Derek is playing it cool.

Or... he would be, if he could stop freaking the hell out. Whatever.

He wants to be there early, just in case, and he hesitates. He should grab his basketball — tryouts next week, he should be practicing as much as possible — but then he’d have to carry it around while they walk. He grabs his dog-eared copy of Slaughterhouse-Five instead.

Spencer seems like a reader. Maybe he’ll be impressed. Derek doesn’t have much experience trying to impress adorably geeky college guys, but that seems like a good start.

He looks at himself in the mirror one more time and thinks, I can’t do this.

Then he shakes it off, like he’d shake off the nerves before a big game, and he gives his reflection a smile. What’s the worst that can happen, right? He embarrasses himself in front of a pretty boy, he avoids the park, he never sees the guy again. After the year he’s had, some good old-fashioned rejection would be a cake walk.

Playing it cool. He can do this.

He walks downstairs, locking up behind himself and leaving the spare key in its spot — its “hidden” spot, which is a totally obvious fake rock, but apparently here in the suburbs you can just do that sort of thing.

He walks, enjoying the sun, because January here feels like Chicago’s April. He’s not going to get used to this any time soon.

Yeah. This was the right choice.

You deserve to do it on your own terms, his mom said, when she hugged him goodbye in the airport. You can be whoever you want.

It didn’t feel like he was trying to be someone else yesterday, though. It felt like he was being himself.

He didn’t realize it could be easy like that, flirting with a guy, teasing and laughing and making Spencer smile. The stupid line came out like it was nothing. The fear only kicked in afterward.

Derek knows he’s charming as fuck; he’s been making girls smile like that since he was fourteen. And it’s not a skeevy thing — not even necessarily a sex thing — he just likes making people smile. He likes the way they stand a little straighter when you compliment their shirt, or the way they bring a hand to the back of their neck when you admire their hair, and the way one nice comment can startle someone right out of a bad day.

Speaking of.

He’s walking into the park, now, and there’s a girl walking toward him, blonde with pink streaks in her high pigtails, wearing thick neon pink glasses and several violently colorful patterns. She looks like Miss Frizzle’s ditzier sister. He kinda loves it.

“I like your glasses,” he tells her cheerfully, as they come face-to-face on the path.

Most people look startled, at first, when a stranger compliments them; they’re caught off-guard. Spencer looked like a deer in headlights, yesterday, when Derek caught his attention.

Not this girl, though. Without missing a beat, she tosses back, “I like your face, sugar.” As their paths cross, she gives him a cheesy over-the-top wink.

He retorts over his shoulder, “I ain’t that sweet, babygirl.”

“I don’t believe you,” she sing-songs, and he’s laughing as they both continue on their way.

Derek makes his way over to the same spot as yesterday, a round table between two curved benches. He pulls out his book and settles down to wait. Spencer isn’t there yet (which makes sense, considering that “same time” meant “two-ish” and it’s more like one-ish right now) but there are two older men playing chess at one of the tables nearby. Otherwise, it’s quiet: two women jogging, a few families on the playground, a guy throwing a ball for his dog.

For a while, it’s actually a pretty awesome way to spend an afternoon. He doesn’t really notice how much time has passed until he shifts, stretching some cramped muscles. Then he checks his watch.

They didn’t really set a definite time, though. It was vague. It’s not a big deal.

Twenty minutes is a normal amount of time to be late. Derek has pulled that move on more than one first date — which begs the question: is this a date? — but he didn’t expect Spencer to be the type, somehow.

He starts to get anxious around half past. He can think of a dozen excuses Spencer might use, but they’re all excuses he’s used himself, and they all boil down to I don’t actually care.

He turns back to his book and tries to forget about the time.

At three, after re-reading the same page for the fourth time, he accepts that it’s a lost cause. He sets the book down on the bench and rests his face in his palms for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Fuck. He is so not playing it cool.

There was something about Spencer that Derek can’t stop thinking about, and it’s not his bone structure or his eyes or the way his fingers looked as he fiddled with his chess piece. It was the way he blushed and stuttered, completely flustered and unable to hide it, and the way he brushed it off with, “I’m not used to being flirted with.” It was a genuine reaction. He was being honest. He wasn’t trying to pose or posture or do any of the things Derek would’ve done to protect himself.

It was the little crease between his eyebrows as he studied Derek intently — too intent to be polite — like Spencer was figuring him out, looking under the surface, seeing him in a way that people usually don’t, because most people don’t care enough to look. Most people miss what’s right in front of them.

It was the way he sat, legs crossed, unpretentious and almost childlike.

It was different. He wasn’t hiding anything. Derek’s been hiding a lot, these last few years. It was nice to be around someone who wasn’t, and who made it look easy.

And yeah, it was also his cheekbones and eyes and fingers and smile, because Derek is only fucking human.

At quarter past, he starts to wonder what he did wrong.

Yeah, I’m flirting with you.

It was like a free-fall, the pause after the words, that frozen moment of can’t take it back now and this is going to change everything. It’s the same hot-cold-terrifying-exhilarating shock he felt in the pause after he came out to his mom — same as the moment right before the jury gave their verdict — same as the moment he walked into school the next day.

But it was different, because Spencer smiled, all slow and shy. No betrayal, no creeping disgust, no pointed questions or even more pointed silence.

That easy acceptance took Derek’s breath away. It felt like freedom. It felt like the moment the plane’s wheels lifted off the tarmac, the sickening lurch in his stomach, the blaze of something like defiance as he watched Chicago recede into the distance.

Spencer smiled, and Derek felt like he could’ve ignored the laws of physics and flown away. If that was what “being out” usually feels like, he could see why people might want to do it. The moment of free-fall — this is going to change everything — was worth it, for that.

This, though? There’s something cold and leaden sitting in his chest, dragging him rudely back down to earth. He should just go. This is an embarrassing amount of time to wait around for some random guy.

“Tell me who I need to punch,” somebody calls. “A face like yours should never be frowning, sweetness.”

It’s the colorful girl from earlier, and Derek can’t help but smile at the way she stomps over and sits down across from him, matter-of-fact and brazen like they’ve known each other for years.

“I was just waiting for you, babygirl,” he tells her, turning the charm up to eleven, and she rolls her eyes.

“Penelope. The pleasure is all yours.” She holds her hand out for him to shake — her nails have tiny daisies painted all over them — and Derek kisses it instead.

“Derek Morgan. Charmed, I’m sure.”

“So who’s the girl that’s got you all tragic-looking?” she asks, and rummages in her massive bag for a minute before pulling out a tupperware of cookies. “Want one? They’re still warm. I was at my friend’s house, she needed some cheering up, we baked. I promise I’m not some creepy creep who’s going to lure you into their white van, oh my god, I just realized that I’m a complete stranger, and this is totally weird! But — cookies?”

“I’d follow you anywhere, babygirl. And I will totally take a cookie.” He takes a bite of melty chocolate chips and moans. “Marry me?”

“Alas, your heart belongs to another,” she says solemnly. “I know that face. Spill.”

“Got stood up, but...” Derek chews as slowly as he can manage. “Wasn’t a girl.”

He’s starting to get used to that free-fall sensation. It’s not so bad this time around.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry! Men, right?” She heaves a dramatic sigh, and Derek tries to hide his own quiet sigh of relief. “The worst, I swear.”

“No biggie. Other fish in the sea, right?”

“Have another cookie.”

“Woman, you are a goddess. I am so glad I met you.”

“I’m glad you met me too, Derek Morgan.”

part three here!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan

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krustywhore · 4 years

Text

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

#moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #shemar moore #my writing

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multifandomfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9

TITLE: Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9 PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 9/? SUMMARY: When David Rossi joins the team, so does his daughter Gwendolyn. But what happens when she and the resident genius start developing feelings for each other? How will it affect Rossi and Reid’s team dynamic?

[A/N - Longer chapter this time.]

“After my parents died, I…kind of went off the rails for a while. I dropped out of Cal Tech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together. Of course, my skills got me put on a list. Of people who could potentially do very bad things,” Penelope explained.

“So they offered you a job?” Spencer asked, “Like Frank Abagnale. The Bureau figured if you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Garcia, what’s on the encrypted file?” Morgan asked.

“I’m required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn’t want anyone else to be able to get at you.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor, see if he’ll clear you to leave,” Spencer said and left the room.

Gwen went with Derek and Penelope, but not before doing her usual ‘goodnight’ with Spencer. Of course Penelope teased her all the way back to the apartment.

There was a police officer stationed out front. “Hi. I’m Mike Fleming. I’m on till midnight. Officer Cranbeck will be here after that, okay?”

“Thank you,” Penelope told him.

“You’re welcome.”

Morgan led her to the entrance of the courtyard. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Penelope stopped to look at the bloodstain on the steps.

“Come on. It washes off. I promise,” he reassured her.

They entered Penelope’s apartment and Morgan looked around and laughed. “I, umm…I would expect nothing less.”

Penelope laughed. “You should be flattered. Not many people are invited in off the grid.”

Morgan spotted a film player on an end table. “Super-8?”

“Yeah.” Penelope walked over to it and turned it on. A film of a younger Penelope started playing. “I always imagined myself fighting crime. My parents were hippies. I think it horrified them.”

“Now why does that not surprise me?” Gwen teased.

“How old were you when you lost them?” Morgan asked.

“18. Drunk driver.” Penelope turned off the projector.

Morgan picked up a piece of paper and examined it.

“I volunteer once a week to counsel family members of murder victims.”

“Baby, you don’t get enough of this stuff at work?”

“I look at those crime scene photos all day long. I can’t know that those families are out there trying to cope and not do something to help.”

Gwen rubbed Penelope’s back and said, “You’re a good woman, Penelope Garcia. Far too precious for this world.”

“Thanks.”

“You do know it was stupid to encrypt that file?” Morgan asked her.

“Yes, I know. Old habits, I guess.”

“You need some rest. You both do.”

“You’re right.” Penelope hugged Morgan. “Go. Be free, my love.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m fine. I got my goon squad parked out front and a badass witch on my side.”

Gwen giggled at the comment.

“Goon squad or no goon squad, that couch right there is gonna be my best friend until we find this guy. Now leave it alone.”

“Okay.”

Penelope looped her arm around Gwen’s and started to head to her bedroom. “But if you’re thinking of trying to take advantage of me, let me call my doctor so he can revive me afterward.”

They both laughed.

“What about me?” Gwen asked.

“You’re hot, Sabrina. But I know a certain doctor would beat my ass if I tried anything with you.”

Gwen blushed furiously as Penelope pulled her into the bedroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They woke up to gunshots.

“Garcia!” Morgan yelled, running into the bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Penelope asked.

“Stay right there. Stay there!” Morgan looked out the window and then walked over to the two women. “Come here. Come with me.” He dragged them both into the corner. “Get in the corner. Get in the corner. Gwen, your gun.”

Gwen pulled out her gun.

“Were you sleeping with that?” Penelope asked.

“Downside of having an FBI agent for a father.”

“If somebody walks through that door, you shoot okay? Shoot first, then ask questions,” Morgan told her.

“I got it Derek!”

Morgan walked out the door and fired a shot.

“Morgan!” Penelope yelled.

“Stay there!”

They heard Morgan running down the stairs.

“It’s okay, Penelope. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” “But what if something happens to you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

There was movement in the doorway and Gwen cocked her gun.

“Rossi. Rossi. Woah. Woah. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”

Gwen lowered her gun. “Call me Rossi again and I will you shoot you.”

Penelope ran into Morgan’s arms crying as they heard sirens in the distance. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The ambulance arrived and the BAU team followed shortly after.

Spencer rushed to Gwen’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Spencer. Really.”

“I should have never left you alone.”

“Okay, first off, I can take care of myself and second, I wasn’t alone. Morgan was here.”

“Thank god he was.” Spencer sat down once he was convinced that Gwen was unharmed.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, walking up to Penelope.

“I don’t know. This guy’s gettin’ seriously bold and I can guarantee it’s not over.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Penelope said.

“Could you know something about him?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you have something he wants?”

“I don’t know who he is. I’m so scared.”

“I know,” JJ told her.

Rossi, Hotch, and Emily came into the apartment.

Rossi looked at his daughter, who nodded. She wasn’t hurt, so there was no need to fuss over her.

“Hey, did you get a look at him?” Emily asked Morgan.

“Nothing solid.”

“Garcia, we need to get you back to the hospital,” Hotch told her.

“No,” Penelope said.

“You know what? You should still be there. We need her someplace safe,” JJ agreed.

“I feel safe with all of you.”

“We can take you to the BAU.”

Penelope nodded, staring off into space.

“Garcia?” JJ asked.

“You okay?” Spencer asked her.

“When we were at dinner… They wanted to seat us by a window, but he insisted on sitting at the worst table in the place. And he sat with his back to the corner.”

A couple of detectives walked in, talking quietly.

Hotch turned to them. “Detective, can you clear the room for just a minute?”

“I got a dead cop downstairs. I consider this part of the crime scene.”

“I know. Just a couple of minutes.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

“Thank you.”

The detectives left the apartment.

“Tell us about the car,” Spencer told Penelope.

“Why?”

“Just go with him,” Morgan said.

“You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?” Spencer asked.

“That’s it. It was just a car.”

“No, come on, think. Anything. Go back,” Morgan told her.

“The seat belt was buckled behind his back.”

A look dawned on everyone’s face.

“Why does that matter?” Penelope asked.

“It wasn’t a rental. It was for surveillance,” Morgan explained.

“Agents don’t wear seat belts. They need to get out in a hurry.”

“All right, let’s cut the crap,” Rossi said, storming over to Penelope.

Gwen knew what was about to happen.

He sat down across from Penelope. “You need to be straight with us. Right now.”

Penelope looked over at JJ for help

. “Look at me, not them.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Penelope told him.

“You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason.”

Penelope looked at Morgan.

“Eyes here!” Rossi yelled.

“Ease up, Rossi,” Morgan said.

“Derek, he knows what he’s doing,” Gwen reassured him.

“You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an FBI agent is trying to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don’t know about. Come on. Spit it out!”

“It’s nothing bad! It’s just…I counsel victim’s families and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them.”

“What does that mean?”

“It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever’s investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority.”

“You’re not authorized to do that,” Hotch told her.

“I know. I was just trying to help.”

“But whoever’s working those cases thinks you’re watching them,” Emily explained.

“I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don’t slide.”

“How many cases are we talking about?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system.”

“You can’t. You’re suspended.”

“Wait a minute, Garcia. On your date, you said this guy was pressing you to find out if you were working murder cases,” Morgan said.

Penelope nodded.

“Hotch, we gotta look at those files.”

Hotch sighed and looked at Rossi.

“I told you, I’m sick of this jagoff being in front of us.”

“Dave’s right. We’ll go back to the BAU. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, Gwen, you stay here and make sure no forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access,” Hotch told them.

“Understood,” Morgan said.

Gwen shared a smirk with her father.

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins , @subhuman-queer, @anotherr-fine-mess and anyone else who would like to be tagged!

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #dr. spencer reid imagines #spencer/oc #spencer/gwen #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #Penelope Garcia #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #beauty and the genius

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 39)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3091

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ knelt beside him too, across from you.

"What happened?" she wondered, no accusation in her voice.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I was only gone an hour or two. He was perfectly fine when I left." You stared at his body in horror, wondering what went wrong. Wondering if it was your fault.

Soon, an ambulance, police, and firefighters arrived.

You rode with Spencer to the hospital and JJ said she'd let the team know and be behind you. You were trying to keep your crying back, but it was hard as the EMTs worked on him.

Finally, you got to the hospital where Garcia and JJ met you. The doctors asked you questions and you focused long enough to answer them quickly and directly. Then they wheeled him away to the CCU. JJ and Garcia said they were being called in, so you nodded, telling them to go, that the team needed them.

With trembling hands, you called Diana, Spencer’s mom. In a little under an hour, Diana arrived and Spencer was out of the CCu, but he wasn’t doing much better. The doctor informed you of the options.

“The conservative approach would be surgery. It may reduce the swelling around his brain faster. There is risk, it could cause seizures and even more bleeding.”

You nodded and asked them to give you a moment. You spoke with Diana and as you were weighing your options, he began to seize again, causing monitors to go off everywhere. You went around the side of the bed and hugged Diana, trying to comfort her and not focus on your own pain.

Your husband was dying and you had no idea if he even loved you anymore.

When they finally got him calmed down, and the seizing stopped, someone appeared in the doorway of Spencer’s hospital room. You turned your head, and it was Max.

A million emotions slammed into you at once, but the main one was confusion.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. Diana turned to see the newcomer.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“A friend of Spencer’s,” you answered absentmindedly. Max looked like a lost puppy. Maybe she didn’t realize you’d be here. “Diana, I’ll be right back.” You stood up and walked towards Maxine. “Do you wanna go grab some coffee?” you offered. You weren’t about to sit in the same room with her as your dying husband. You wanted her far away from him.

“Sure,” she said, looking a little afraid.

You two walked to the cafeteria and got coffee, sitting down.

“So, what are you doing here? Who told you he was here?”

“JJ.”

“Ah, I should’ve figured that out.”

“I’m uh, sorry for showing up like this--”

“Why did you show up, knowing now that he’s a married man?” you took a deep breath and remembered what Dexter had taught you. “How do you and JJ know each other?” you figured this would be a good start to finding out more.

“After the thing with Cat, we talked for a bit. Your team had briefed me about what might have happened and then afterwards, she said she was close to Spencer and gave me her number in case I had any more questions about what had happened. Then, I got the text about him being in the hospital. She said I might want to know.”

This fueled the fire within you about JJ. she had no reason to tell her about what was going on with your husband. “So….how did you and my husband meet?” This was the most awkward situation you were in and you just wanted this to get over with. “It seems you’ve become the center of his attention and that’s not something I'm okay with.”

She twiddled her fingers, toying with her coffee cup. “Yeah, I’m probably not your favorite person. Um, we met at the park. My nephew was talking to him, then he started to have a panic attack and Spencer came over and did a magic trick to distract him. It really impressed me, that a guy could take time out of his day to make a boy he didn't know happy and feel better.”

“Spencer’s always had a soft spot for kids, he’s a great uncle.” You smiled fondly hearing that he had helped a child in need. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy he was able to help but how does that in turn end up with you and him constantly being together?” You took a sip of your coffee. “Wasn’t there a point where you asked if he was seeing anyone or if he was married?” You couldn’t see how that would never cross a person’s mind

“It did, but we were having such a good time, I didn’t want to think anything was wrong. He never talked about you, and I never thought to bring it up. He seemed so sweet and decent, I didn't think there was any way he could do something like that.”

“You never thought to ask if he was single or taken?” That sounded incredulous to you. “Did he ever ask you?” At that point you were starting to believe that the man you loved really didn’t love you and this was just a confirmation. “I’m going to be frank with you. He and I are going through a tough situation and JJ was the cause of it and then you showed up and things got worse, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me what exactly it was that you two did so much that he couldn’t bat an eye at me.” You moved your hands under the table to hide their trembling.

She took a breath. “Okay, well, first of all, I didn’t mean to make anything worse. I’ve never intended to cause issues in a marriage. But, all we did was go to lunch, dinner… We went to a few museums and shops. He gave me a couple of things.”

“Were there ever moments where you two got to be closer than friends?” You massaged one temple trying to think things through like Dex had told you to. “I’m just trying to figure all this out and I’d like to know everything, if you could tell where you guys went and what you did I would really appreciate that.” You were being sincere as much as it pained you, this needed to be done there was so much you were unsure of and Max was the key to knowing the truth. “ Do you have pictures by any chance?”

“I have a few. Yeah.” She pulled her phone out and began to show you pictures. “This was us at the science museum. This was us at the park.” She glanced at you, making a face of worry. “I know this is probably really weird, but as you can see we’re never kissing or holding hands.” She put her phone away, sighing before trying to list everywhere they went. “We talked about books, movies, a little bit about his work, but that was only for a few minutes. He gave me some of his favorite books to read, and showed me a few poems. He told me places I should go visit.”

Hearing all of this was hurting you far worse than you thought it would. He gave her the books that you had given to him, the places they went to were some of the few places that only you and him had ever gone to.the same poems he showed to her were the ones he would recite to you when he felt that they were meant for you. Your shoulders sag and you wanted to hate her but you couldn’t she did know he was married he chose to keep that from her. He chose to keep you hidden from his life to someone else and that, that's what broke your heart. “Did he ever hint at wanting more than what you two had?” you hoped this would give you the answer to the question that's still gnawing at you.

“Not really, no. He made it clear he liked being around me but…” She bit her lip. “I was falling for him. I was going to tell him I loved him, soon. Probably the next time we met. That was before I found out he was married though. But I still can’t turn off those feelings, that's why I came to the hospital, I think…. Because I love him, and if he died…”

“If he died what? He died knowing that you fell in love with him?!” you winced hearing your voice rise. “I’m sorry but knowing that he’s married you shouldn’t have even thought of that, it’s bad enough I had to deal with JJ doing the same shit while I was away for work but I don’t need someone else doing that and especially not now when he’s like this.”

“I know. I shouldn’t be here but… I had to be true to myself. I love Spencer, and I wanted to tell him that, but… I won’t get in the way of your marriage. I’d still like to be his friend and I won’t let us go anywhere past that.”

“I don’t really know much about you so it’s hard for me to even trust you’ll keep that promise and that you won't try later on.” you finished your coffee cup “But I do appreciate you telling me everything that’s happened.”

She nodded. “Of course. If I was married, I’d want the same courtesy. Besides, you’re really intimidating.” She nervously laughed.

“You smiled a little at that. “I don’t do it on purpose, it's just part of the job.” you make a move to leave. “I should probably get back. I need to check on Spencer.”

“Right, yeah, of course. I’m just gonna go. I’m so sorry to have come, but… now at least you know the truth. I hope whatever damage I caused, you two can fix it.”

“I’ll let him know you stopped by to say hello, and I hope we can fix this too.” You nod your head and head back to the room.

You headed back, and Diana had a hold of his hand. A few hours later, he opened his eyes and he was fully awake. After they ran some more tests, they cleared him. His bleeding had stopped and he was going to be okay. Diana said she was tired and she went back to the live-in home, wishing you both a good night.

Now that Spencer was finally lucid, you were sitting beside his bed, holding his hand.

“Hey,” you softly said. “I thought I lost you there for a while. I came home from the hotel and found you on the floor. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

Spencer smiled at you.

“I wondered if the last thoughts in your head were about Max,” you admitted with a bit of an embarrassed laugh.

He shook his head. “No. They weren’t about Max. I was thinking about the case. Everett Lynch is still alive.”

“We know, sweetie,” you assured. “The team is tracking him, we’ll find him.” You bit your lip to look down for a second. “Spencer, I talked to Dexter, and actually Max stopped by too.”

“Oh? What did they have to say?”

You noticed he didn’t ask about why Max was here. “I had talked to Dexter and he made me realize that I was overreacting and I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself and try to see your side of this.” You looked away from him, not being able to meet his eyes about Max.

“Well, that’s good. He won’t hurt any more women… Y/N… I’m so sorry that you were put in the position to even think I was thinking of another woman before I collapsed… I never should’ve done that to you. You’re right. I was completely in the wrong for keeping you a secret from each other. I just… It was nice to talk to someone who had nothing to do with work, or Miami, any of it. It was a breath of fresh air. But I made you feel second best, and you’ve never done that to me. Ever… I should’ve paid you the same respect.”

“Thank you, Spence…” You really didn’t know what to say. Things were happening left and right and you didn’t know what to believe. “I just wish you’d thought of giving me that respect before all of this happened.” You still couldn’t look at him. “We spoke… Maxine and I.”

He made a look of uncertainty and worry. “Really? How did that go? She came by? What did she have to say? Why was she here?”

“She… She came to see you and well we got to talking and she confessed that she’s in love with you and that if you died she wanted to do right to herself and tell you.” you moved yourself away from him a bit. “She told me about everything Spencer. The places you guys went to, the books you gave her” you looked away trying to calm your emotions. “Why Spencer? What happened to those places being just for us, I gave you those books.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing. And everything. I know the case in Miami is done but that doesn’t mean my head or my heart were in the right place. I was in profiler mode the whole time we were down there. Working the case, protecting you. Then we got back here,and reality hit me of everything that had happened. And I just wanted the taste of a normal life for a little bit with someone that wasn’t on the team or even you. It wasn’t a romantic choice. It could’ve been anyone. It just happened to be her. I’m sorry that she told you she loves me… That.. that was never my intention. I just wanted a friend, a close friend, a good friend like you and Dexter. I needed to digest everything that happens, and at the same time, be away from it all with someone who could just be my friend, not a profiler or a killer. But I don't love her… at all. I love you, and only you. It’s always only been you, I swear.”

“Spence, it's hard for me to believe that, all of the things she told me you did were the exact same thing we did when we first got together, how do you expect me not to feel like i’ve been pushed aside for someone new,” There was no stopping the tears. “Like you said she’s outside of all of this I wouldn’t put it past you to move on from me.”

He reached over, taking your hand and sitting up on his elbow. “The last thing I will ever want or do is move on from you. I didn’t spend the last several months using every waking moment trying to protect you and your freedom because I don’t love you more than anyone in this world. I made a mistake. I distanced myself from you, but to be fair, you did it too.” He held up his hand to stop you from protesting. “I’m not faulting you. I know why you did it. I’m keenly aware as to why you did what you did. But the fact remains that when both of us are afraid of hurting the other person, we distance ourselves. The only problem with that logic is, the distancing ourselves does hurt. I did this all wrong. I know I did. But Max is just a friend. I was caught up with feeling.. No longer bogged down by our work, or the Miami business. For that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel second best. I’m sorry for not making you a priority. I’m sorry for making you feel anything but all the love I have for you. I'm sorry for not handling my emotions better and coming to you when I had a problem. I can’t fix what I did, or correct my mistakes, but I’m here now, telling you that none of it matters to me anymore. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is you.”

“You mean it? You're not just saying this to get me to not overthink? It’s been hell, Spence. Every time I wanted to be with you, it’s like you didn’t think twice to run to meet with Max.” You looked up at him. “I was honestly waiting for you to tell me that you were leaving, that you never wanted to see me again, I wanted to blame you for this but I blame myself because if it hadn’t been for me you wouldn’t have had to find confidence and search for someone else to find some semblance of normalcy.” You wiped the tears away, not wanting to get too emotional.

He leaned all the way up and put his hand on the side of your face. It was some of the first physical contact you’d had in forever since this whole Maxine thing began. “No,” he cooed. “No, none of this is your fault, don’t even think that. I’m an adult. I should've handled it better. It’s just… well you already know I’m envious of you and Dexter. Between JJ, and Miami, and Dexter, and Maxine and our jobs in general. So much has been so messy with us lately, I didn’t even know how to begin talking to you about it. That’s my fault. Not yours. It’s a reflection of me, not you. I got caught up in distancing myself so far away from work, that I distanced you too, and I never meant to do that. I just… I want us to find our way back to each other. That’s all.”

“I would really like that too, just please no more lies?” you asked of him as you leaned into his touch realizing you’d been very deprived of his touch. “What do you say when we go back I cook you up some of your favorite foods to make you feel better?” you hoped that this would be a good start to getting back to what you two had before everything went wrong.

“Yes, please. No more lies. I swear. I’m done with Maxine. It’ll just be about us, from now on.” He promised, leaning forward to kiss you and it felt like you could finally breathe again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

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@iamwarrenspeace

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dexter #dexter fic #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic

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spencerreidsthings · 4 years

Text

Dorm room drama part 5

Masterlist

Reid was stressed. Cassie could tell because he’s ditched his sweater and tie and was wearing his shirt untucked. It was rumpled like he’d been tugging on it. “Cassie, sit down,” Hotch demanded when she got back to the room with Garcia. The two were smiling, which means that Garcia was emotionally attached as well. “We need you to start answering some of our questions, Cassie.”

“I already told you about the girls,”

“Yes, but we need more information and we need to ask you questions.”

“But, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, but we need your cooperation, we’ll be questioning Reid too.”

Reid sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. “I’m with you. It’ll be okay.” She paused for a while, but eventually nodded and gripped his hand.

“So you were in communications class the morning your roommates were killed. Is that correct?” Cassie nodded. “Was there anything out of the ordinary in that class?”

Cassie shook her head, “I mean, I got there earlier than usual.”

“Why”

“We were having a guest lecturer. I wanted a good seat.”

“And after class you went to have lunch, right?” Morgan leaned his head down trying to get the girl to look up at him. Her gaze held to the floor.

“Yeah, I was sitting in the back of the café, like usual, when I saw Spencer looking around for somewhere to sit. So I offered and he sat with me.”

“The cafeteria was really busy” Spencer tacked on “But it didn't seem like there was anyone suspicious there.”

“Were there people sitting close enough to overhear what you were saying?” Morgan asked.

“Probably, if they were trying hard enough,” Reid answered

“What did you talk about?” “It’d be easier to ask what we didn't talk about,” Cassie jokes. “First, it was him and his job, then comm, then school, then friends and roommates, then just more about us.”

“Afterwards, we exchanged phone numbers and planned to go out to dinner,” Reid said much to Cassie’s surprise.

“Did you say anything negative about your roommates during that time?” Morgan asked.

“The only negative things she said was that Laura kept bringing guys over and Katie left the toothpaste lid off constantly,” Reid answered.

“Do you remember exactly what was said?” Cassie didn't, but the team was looking at Reid. “come on, kid. Use that eidetic memory.”

“She said Laura, I love her, but she keeps having boys over and Katie, she leaves the toothpaste open which is disgusting. Think of all the germs.”

“That could explain the brutality of Katie’s death.” Prentiss tried to whisper.

“What,” Cassie gasped.

“Nothing-”

“No, tell me,” Cassie demanded. “I want to know.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Yes,” Cassie yelled.

Prentiss sighed and looked over the rest of the team. Hotch motioned for her to go ahead. “Katie’s death was harsher than Laura’s She was beaten whereas Laura was shot in the head execution-style.”

“No one mentioned hearing a gunshot.” “Could have used a silencer,” Morgan stated. “Those are pretty popular in movies.

“So, he had to be sitting close enough to you and Reid to hear what you were saying,” Hotch said.

“She didn't mention them until later, he would have had to be quick about it too,” Reid added.

“Do you remember anyone suspicious?” Morgan directed his question at Reid knowing the girl wouldn’t have an answer.

“Um… I don’t think so. I didn't really know anyone so they all seemed to be weird.” Reid stuttered. No one knew what to ask next. Her story, though helpful, didn’t narrow the suspect list. A knock at the door shot Cassie out of her chair. She was grateful for a distraction.

Another resident was on the other side. “Hey, Cas, can you help me hang something up?” The girl asked.

Cassie nodded and left immediately without putting on shoes. Morgan chuckled at the look of puppy love on Reid’s face. “She’s beautiful, kid.”

“I know,” Reid stated.

A few minutes later they heard the two girls talking as they came back. “Did you read that article for Comm?” The girl asked Cassie.

“Which one?”

“The nonverbal behavior analysis by Dr. Spencer Reid?” The team perked up and listened.

“Oh, no I haven’t. I totally forgot.”

“It’s a great article. He works for the FBI. It’s really cool.”

“FBI,” Cassie asked. “Insane. I hear he is totally hot.” Their conversation halted and Cassie walked into the room. The team observed the change in Reid’s behavior. He stood taller and a smirk took over his face.

“Totally hot, huh?” Reid teased as he stalked over to her displaying confidence none of the team members had seen on him before. He got closer to her, but she backed away like prey trying to get away from the predator, but pretty soon she was trapped between him and the wall. “You know, as the author of that article I find it personally offensive that you haven’t read it.” He spoke softly and unwavering. He placed his hands on the wall next to her.

“I was hoping since I know the author, he would relay the information for me. Hearing it from the source would be much more enjoyable.” She smiled up at Spencer and pulled him closer by his collar.

Reid hummed in content and looked up and away from her. She took the opportunity to press her lips against his neck. Reid smiled widely and looked back down at his girl. “You don't want me to read it to you.” He said matter-a-factually.

“You’re right,” She agreed.

Reid smiled again and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Their lips met both smiling. “I love you,” Reid mumbled.

“And I love you.”

#secret relationship #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #reid #reid imagine #spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #dr. spencer reid

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prettyoddfever · 4 years

Photo

Jon Walker’s reception in Panic! at the Disco

I wasn’t sure where else to stick random info about what the fan reception was like for Jon, so I’ll just throw some stuff in here. I know I say that P!ATD was thrown into an international spotlight “overnight,” but that happened over the course of several months… Jon was literally thrown into an international spotlight overnight. The Brent drama was turned into a big deal, so of course Jon’s name was brought up by major news outlets.

I think it was nice that Jon at least had a decent idea of what he was getting into. When Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon started recording AFYCSO in summer 2005, they had no idea what kind of a life they’d be facing the following summer. Jon had spent a couple months in early 2006 touring alongside P!ATD, so he was aware of the situation with Brent, how the band’s songs sounded, how the guys worked together, etc. He had watched his friends flee from fans, endure negative comments from the media & other bands, and try to keep control of the machine they’d set in motion. I’m sure it was a massive change for Jon to go from being unknown to famous overnight, but at least his new lifestyle in the band wasn’t completely unexpected.

Jon already had experience touring the country when he was 17 (Fall Out Boy opened for his old band), and his experience sounded helpful. He told fans he was really excited to be playing in a band again. Some people were really hostile towards Jon at first and hated him just because he wasn’t Brent, but others were cautiously curious. After the first few weeks of the summer tour there started to be a lot of reports about how the new bass player was the actual sweetest guy you could possibly meet... fans who were absolutely determined to hate Jon would come away from meeting him like “hi that is my new favorite person.” A few people started hating Jon just because there was nothing about him to hate lol. Everything I heard made him sound like a gentle, cat-loving, flip-flop-wearing, funny Beatles fan who seemed to genuinely care.

Oh, wait––one group of fans did enthusiastically embrace Jon right from the start! The Chicago fans seemed SO PROUD. Jon had a lot of family & friends at the Chicago show in early July, so that sounded like a special moment. A few fans said that he had a giant grin plastered on his face when he came outside alone afterwards to greet fans & sign stuff. When Jon got locked out of the tour bus sometime around mid-July it seemed like fans were sharing that story & laughing affectionately because they already loved him. By the end of the summer he was a new fan favorite (which is something that photographers and the people operating the cameras on tv shows never seemed to grasp... outrage at how little JWalk footage we got was a pretty common topic in the fandom after tv appearances).

Jon wasn’t listed as an official member of the band until early July, but it looked like he’d be sticking around since he had some custom costume pieces designed for him while the other touring musicians didn’t get that. Plus, Jon was in the new photoshoots, interviews, and was even present for the filming of the Lying Is The Most Fun video... so it was never really a mystery (even though Brent’s brother insisted that Jon was only a touring musician). Brendon was basically shoving Jon at fans and leading a one-man campaign to get everyone to love Jon as much as he did :)

Jon was put in a tricky spot in interviews when he needed to speak on behalf of the band. If he said “we wrote this song” it could sound like he was trying to personally take credit for AFYCSO. But any other phrasing would continually set Jon apart from the band and prevent them from appearing like one solid group. I think he ended up navigating interviews really well. He would say stuff like “we’re from Vegas” when he was speaking for the band, but he could say he was from Chicago if the interview had more time to get detailed or if it was focusing him. The band absolutely needed to drag the media narrative away from the Brent drama (even in 2008 sometimes). Any statement that brought attention to how Jon wasn’t there in the beginning would've only made yet another article return to that mess.

I think I said this in another post, but Jon really felt like some kind of unifying force that made the band finally become whole. They’d finally found their footing and seemed like one powerful, cohesive unit. The band echoed similar sentiments later on too. Here’s an excerpt from the band’s 2008 Alt Press cover article:

“Walker’s enlistment into the ranks of Panic has made the band tighter than multiple coats of paint, unifying them as an enthusiastic team. This is one of many shared truths the members will agree upon, whether they’re being interviewed separately or together.”

I think Jon’s steady optimism probably helped a bit during the challenges this summer too. Dream Rockwell said that Jon’s role was like the comic relief and he was really sweet. Roger from Lucent Dossier described Jon as a prankster. Jon really did seem to bring out the best in the band in the last half of 2006. Ryan later said “I think we were just refreshed in a way to have somebody else in the band that was really excited to play music and write music. So it made us – the three of us – a lot more excited to be doing what we were doing.” I thought Jon was the perfect replacement for Brent because he understood the other guys as a band and as people.

Jon was also really good at creating a sense of connection with fans. He had run the journal for his old band, so P!ATD’s journal updates became way more frequent with his arrival. He also read what fans were saying online and even tried to get us to discuss politics and the war in a civilized manner haha. It was a valiant effort. Too many fans just wanted to squeal about Brendon’s butt or collect pictures of Ryan’s legs, fingers, Adam’s apple, etc.

It was refreshing to have a band member who hadn’t been scared off by fans yet. Jon was much more willing to engage with us and reach out. He also shared a lot of his photography to the band’s photo album on their site. There were random pictures of clouds, trees, buildings, the band, and ordinary stuff that Jon saw that summer... I’ll upload a decent amount of them to this tag (Jon’s separate photobucket is also part of that tag). Jon stopped making much of an effort to connect with fans by spring 2007, though. I don’t know if that was necessarily because the band was “too busy” working on their second album like some people guessed... I mean, the last half of the Fever era had been absurdly busy too. So I’m not going to project any motivation onto Jon––I’m just saying that the regular journal updates and photos from an actual band member were part of what made the last half of the Fever era stand out (and provided some form of connection to the band during the peak of their pre-split fame). We got some pictures via the band’s FOE page in 2008, but the next time that Jon started doing something like 2006 again was with the WSB blog towards the end of the Pretty. Odd. era (although Ryan did the majority of those posts & pictures).

I think Spencer did a great job in this next quote of summing up the story of how the band met Jon (also: I love how accurate Spencer could be when he was put on the spot and had to estimate dates off the top of his head in interviews. Ryan & Jon were usually off by a bit while Brendon would land somewhere in the correct decade haha). So this LiveDaily interview was in February 2008:

"We didn't know Jon up until about, oh I guess, two years ago. I think it was the first tour we had ever gotten a bus for. We were still playing third or fourth, we weren't headlining yet. We were touring with this band called The Academy Is ... from Chicago. We were good friends with them and he grew up with those guys, and actually played in a different band with one of their guitar players a few years ago. He was teching for them and kind of doing film stuff. We made really good friends with him and kind of found out his story of growing up and being in bands with guys in The Academy, or being friends with the guys in Fall Out Boy. Then we were like, ‘We were just in the process of [trying] to find somebody.’ There was never anybody else who had tried out or anything. He was never really officially inducted in the band. It was just kind of like, ‘Well, you've been hanging out with us a lot, so now you're going to keep hanging out with us even more.’”

#jwalk

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lavendermenaceart · 5 years

Text

Summary: You had been dating your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid, for 8 months now and so far you had an easy time keeping it secret. You’re a surveillance specialist with the FBI in Norfolk, that is until you get swooped up by the BAU in Quantico. Now, you have to work extra hard to keep your relationship hidden throughout a tough case.

Warnings/Pairings: SpencerxReader, Injury, Murder, Guns, Blood, Surgery, etc.

A/N: This was a request from Anon! I hope you like it <3

“Uh, wait, wait. What was the address?” You cleared your throat, blinking quickly as you looked at the notebook in front of you.

The person on the phone listed it again and it was the exact same as what you had down on your notepad.

“Ah, alright. Thank you so much.” You hung up and speed dialed your boyfriend.

“Spencer we have a bit of an issue.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you waited for his response.

“What is the issue? Did you get locked out of your car again?” He sounded amused and you could imagine the cute smirk on his face.

“Uh, no. Apparently, uh, I'm your new coworker.” You forced a grin, crossing an arm over your stomach as you waited for his reply.

“Wait, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I asked twice.” You flopped down on your couch. “I don’t know how it happened, but…” You trailed off, shrugging. “I mean, we were going to tell them sooner or later, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I just don’t want to deal with them fussing over us or interrogating you.” Spencer sighed on the other side of the phone.

“Babe, I can handle it just fine. I’ve been through worse than someone asking me what college I went to.” You chuckled softly.

“I know, I know. I just...I don’t want them to scare you off.” It was one of the few rare times Spencer spoke his true feelings, but that was the beauty of your relationship with him. You both understood each other.

“That’s impossible, I promise you.” You spoke sincerely, knowing he was truly anxious about it. His team would have known by now if he wasn’t so anxious about it. “We’ll go at your pace, alright? I won’t walk in and announce that I’m your significant other. We can tell them whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, it means a lot to me, Y/N.” Spencer uttered softly before you both said your goodbyes and I love you. You had to get ready for your new career with the BAU.

“Hello, you’re Y/F/N, right?” A beautiful woman with medium length dark black hair

asked, her head tilted inquisitively.

“Yes, that’s me.” You smiled warmly, trying to keep your eyes focused on her and not trying to find Spencer in the room around you.

“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m Emily Prentiss, your new unit chief. Sorry if this was unexpected, I just saw your credentials and asked if I could scoop you up. One of our own recently left to be a full-time mother, so we had a space that needed to be filled.” She explained as she led you to her office. You noticed the other agents turning to look at you, Spencer trying to look like he didn’t recognize you but you could see the twinkle of pride in his eyes.

“Just need you to fill out some paperwork and then you can meet the rest of the team.” She opened the door and beckoned you in before shutting it behind the two of you.

The paperwork was mainly basic FBI employment papers and you had it done in 15 minutes. Afterward, Prentiss walked you out and the team gathered around at the bottom of the stairs.

“Everyone, this is our newest member, Y/F/N.” You stuck your hand out and another woman with a dark wavy bob took it.

“Hi, I’m Tara Lewis” Her smile was warm and you felt a little less nervous.

One by one you met and shook hands with Rossi, Luke, Matthew, and last Spencer.

“Dr. Spencer Reid, Nice to see you.” You smiled as he shook your hand, feeling him squeeze reassuringly.

This garnered a few odd glances and some mumbling from Luke. Something along the lines of “I thought he didn't shake hands.”

You both immediately broke apart before a bubbly blonde came waddling in on high heels.

“Hi, Hi! Im Penelope Garcia, Tech Oracle of the BAU.” She stuck her hand out and you took it before bowing graciously.

“I am blessed by your presence.” You uttered reverently before falling into a fit of giggles with her.

“Ooh, I like this one.” She pointed at you, looking from you to Prentiss.

“I'm glad because they will most likely be sticking with us for a while.” She winked at you playfully before Garcia cleared her throat, the tone immediately getting heavier.

“I partially came out to greet the newbie but for the most part it's because, uh, we have a case.”

It was a horrifying case, you realized as soon as you saw the pictures up on the screen in the meeting room. Dozens upon dozens of skeletons and decomposing bodies splayed out on the ground, covered in dust if they weren’t in the ground. Yellowed-white bones peeking out of the earth. Some had been crushed by rocks. Spencer kept glancing your way, checking your reaction to the images. No doubt, he was worried about you.

“So, there was a mass grave found in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park in Salt Flat, Texas. It was uncovered after a mudslide caused by the recent onslaught of storms that came with hurricane Harvey. All the bodies are women and we’ve gotten some DNA matches that of multiple missing cases dating all the way back to 2003 from all across the country.”

“So, this person had the time and money to travel across the country and not get caught.” Luke mused, scrolling through the file on his tablet.

“Could be someone who travels for work.” Tara nodded at the map. “Either that or someone who got some kind of inheritance or settlement.”

“How old is the most recent body?” You spoke up, wanting to get the timeline banged out as early as possible.

“6 months.” Garcia clicked a button and an image of a fairly new body popped up on the screen.

5 hours later the team and yourself touched down in Texas, your nerves a lot better than when you first got on the plane thanks to Spencer who sat next to you and read to you in whispers, even when the entire team was staring. You weren’t that used to flying and the sheer size of the case made you feel like maybe your small team of seven wasn’t big enough for a case like that.

“Have you ever had a case like this?” You asked Spencer softly as he walked next to you into the police office you would be residing in.

“Yes, actually,” Spencer responded softly, watching your face closely for a moment to gauge your reaction.

“So, you have experience with this. That’s good. That means we have a better chance, right?” You were both hovering by the entrance, Spencer nursing the same cup of coffee he had been for the past 2 hours.

“Oh, uh, yeah, you can look at it that way. We did find the guy who-” Spencer had been surprised by your response, obviously, but his sentence was cut off by Prentiss’ voice.

“Reid and Y/L/N? We need to talk battle plans.” She was glancing you over, her gaze careful but you could see the hint of disbelief in her eyes.

Spencer cleared his throat and stared at his shoes as he made his way over to the team, and you were trying your best to control your reddening cheeks.

Lewis and yourself had been paired up to go to the crime scene to work with M.E’s while Prentiss and Alvez talked to police officer’s while Spencer and Simmons stayed behind at the police station to look over the map of the crimes.

“This skeleton is 10 years old. Her middle finger on her left hand was taken off rather roughly, like most of the other bodies.”

“The ring finger…” You muttered, flipping through what would cause someone to cut off that specific finger. They couldn’t have been married women because they would have been missed. “A mass grave of this size...They all had to of been runaways or prostitutes, a married person would have been missed too much, too risky.”

“You’re right. We’ll have to wait to see after the interviews with the hits we got about the victim’s situation.” Tara nodded, before looking at the M.E.

“Right, most of them had been hit over the head from behind while others had been strangled, most likely from behind with a wire.” The M.E pointed at different bodies. It seems the newer ones had been strangled while older ones had been hit over the back of the head.

You tilted your head, furrowing your eyes.

“What are you thinking. Y/L/N?” Tara looked at you curiously, putting a hand on her hip.

“That’s two different M.O’s, and look, all the newest bodies were strangled. The older ones, mostly skeletons, had been hit in the back of the head. Is it a coincidence that two different killers used the same mass grave or….”

“Some kind of apprenticeship?” Tara finished and you nodded.

“I’ll go talk to Prentiss.” You both nodded towards each other as you turned away from the tent full of bodies to go speak with Prentiss.

“Wait, Y/L/N, Can I ask kind of a personal question?” Tara had followed you out of the tent and you felt sweat bead your brow almost instantly as you braced yourself for the question.

“Yeah, of course.” You didn’t want to step on any toes by commenting on ‘The case at hand’ or something else that could come off as insulting.

“What were you doing before this? I haven’t seen you even blink at any of these bodies.” She approached carefully, her face carefully curious.

“I thought I told you guys? I was a surveillance specialist with the FBI in Norfolk.” You shrugged, hoping that was enough. You felt a twinge of relief, escaping a question about your relationship with Spencer.

Tara nodded, accepting your question before excusing herself to go back into the tent as you continued towards Prentiss.

“Prentiss?” You stood over her crouching body as she examined some remains still stuck in the ground.

“Y/L/N, what’s up?” She looked up at you before standing straight with a grunt of effort.

“About half of the bodies have their skulls smashed, from behind, while the other half were strangled from behind with something like wire. All the bodies are missing their ring finger. Tara and I were thinking about a partnership or an apprenticeship.” You laid out the facts, quick and cold.

“If they were doing these things from behind the victim, that means they were both ashamed of what they were doing, or they couldn’t overpower them through normal means. The ring finger feels obvious….maybe two men who had been divorced?” She looked thoughtful down at the skeleton beneath her.

“That doesn’t make sense.” You practically blurted out, caught up in your own thoughts. “Sorry.” You blushed a deep red, embarrassment burning your cheeks as you realized you might have stepped over your new boss.

“No, don’t be. What are you thinking?” Prentiss’ tone was kind and understanding.

“Well, it’s….the deaths are chronological. There is a clear cut from one M.O to the other. My bet is on an apprenticeship, maybe the first killer died or he’s too old to kill.”

“That means that the apprentice was younger, obviously. If he’s younger though, who should have easily been able to overpower most of these women.” Prentiss sighed, holding her chin in thought.

You thought for a moment, staring down at the ground until it came to you. “A genetic illness or deformity, maybe?”

“Like...a Father-son duo?” Emily looked skeptical for a moment before she nodded, “We can look into that, but I want to keep our options open this early in the case.”

You nodded, feeling a small chip at your ego before brushing it away, “I understand that.”

After hours of work, interviews, and coffee, the team finally had suspected. They were a father and daughter duo. The mother had divorced and abandoned them both after the father was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Before that, he was a traveling businessman who would bring his family along with him from city to city. The daughter was homeschooled and had no social media accounts. You remember reaching out to Spencer after that had been discovered, knowing it probably hit too close to home for.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Spencer whispered softly in the hotel hallway, leaning down to kiss your forehead before you both jumped apart as one of the doors opened.

“Do you guys know where a vending machine is?” Luke walked up to the pair of you, oblivious to the intimacy just shared between the two of you.

“Down one floor, right next to the elevators.” You responded, smiling and trying to look casual.

Luke thanked you before getting into the elevator for his midnight snack.

“We have to be more careful.” You muttered softly as you split off from Spencer and entering your room to rest at night.

Now you and your team were about to make a bust on the family at their house. You were the third of your team to go in, splitting up to go upstairs and to the attic after everywhere else had been cleared minus the room where the father was bed bound. You had just climbed up in the attic and turned when you saw her. A thin woman, maybe in her late 20’s or early 30’s, crouched on a mattress. You could see wires hanging up all around her, covered in crusted blood. You didn’t want to alarm her any more than you already had by calling for your team because she had a pistol pointed straight at you. She was shaking badly as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Hey, look, it’s okay. We’re here to help.” You holster your gun before holding your hands up and crouching down on one knee.

“No, you’re just gonna take me away from my Daddy.” She cocked the hammer to the pistol and you felt sweat start to slick your skin in the stuffy attic.

“No, we just want to help you and your Daddy.” You spoke softly, sympathetically. “You’ve never used a gun before, come one, put it down and we can get you out of here.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” she replied, her voice quivering in fear.

“None of the bodies had been shot.” You answered her softly, holding a hand out for the gun. “Hand it over, and we’ll get you out of here, okay? You won’t ever have to hurt anyone again.”

Suddenly her face contorted, a mix between rage and sorrow as she steadied the gun. “I like hurting them, though.” And in the next second a deafening shot rung through the air, you tried to dodge but you felt the bullet burn through your arm.

Warm blood gushed out onto the wooden flood, slipping through the cracks. It must have hit an artery. The woman let out a little giggle of glee as she raised the gun again. In that split second you thought you were truly going to die, closing your eyes as a second shot rang out. You felt nothing other than the searing pain of your wound and the blood leaving your body at a rapid pace.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the woman laying back, contorted, on the mattress, a hole in her forehead. A moment later 3 Spencer’s filled your vision, flickering and blurring as his voice distorted.

“Hang in there, love. It’s going to be alright, okay? You’re so brave, Y/F/N.” He held your hand, squeezing gently until paramedics persuaded him away.

The last thing you remembered seeing was Spencer standing over you, whispering something to himself while the rest of the team stood in awe to the side.

Soft lights penetrated through your eyelids, making you blink as the world came back. You felt the thin blankets that Spencer had tucked you under after surgery, and his warm hand in yours. You heard the soft sound of Animal Planet on in the background, an announcer with a soothing voice speaking about a rare breed of bird.

“Love?” Spencer gently brushed a hand across your cheek, moving hair out of your face. The feeling of his touch lingered and you realized you were high on pain medication and that something horrible had happened.

“What….h-happened?” You muttered softly, bringing a hand to your forehead before running it through your hair.

“You were shot. She nicked your brachial artery, but the paramedics got you here in time.” You winced softly, pain seeping through your drug filled mind. Spencer’s voice floated through and you barely registered it.

“That’s not good.” You muttered, making Spencer smile and chuckle before leaning over the arm of the bed to kiss your dry lips.

“No, it’s not. But, you’re okay and that’s what matters.” He whispered softly into your hair before kissing your forehead.

“How are you?” You slurred, running your clumsy fingers along his jawline.

“I’m good, my love.” He gently grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers as you drifted off into sleep again.

“So, are you going to tell us about...this?” It was Prentiss’ voice, in front of you.

Spencer sighed, and then, “We’ve been dating for 8 months. I met her at the FBI ball.”

“How come you never told us?” It was a different voice, Garcia’s.

Silence before Garcia spoke again, “What?”

“I didn’t want you guys to scare her off. You can be pretty intimidating.” Spencer spoke hesitantly after a moment's pause.

“Oh, Spencer.” Emily sighed softly, moving closer to Spencer, “Well, now she’s stuck with us.” Some uneasy laughter bubbled over the room before it fell silent again.

“We just want the best for you, Spencer,” Garcia explained, her voice watery. She must have felt guilty, but she didn’t need to.

“I told you, nothing could scare me off.” You opened one eye before having a coughing fit and groaning at the pain radiating from your arm.

“Welcome back.” Luke was standing at the corner of your bed, handing a cup of water to Emily who then handed it to Spencer so that he could then hold the straw to your chapped lips.

“Thanks.” You smiled before taking a handful of huge gulps.

“Anything you need, we’re here.” Emily nodded, smiling at you.

“Yeah, you’re part of the team now.” Matthew concurred, smiling gently.

You met Spencer’s eyes, a small smile forming on both of your faces. You had stopped any more murders from occurring and won the respect of the team. Your relationship could only grow stronger from there.

#Criminal minds #cm #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reidxreader #reader insert #self insert #reider #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my reider #writing #BAU #criminal minds angst

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maealbert · 6 years

Text

The Liaison // & Oh’s

AU Characters: Team x OC (Lucy De Luca) A/N: This is a follow up to Exes! I haven’t posted it yet because I’ve been working on future parts to The Liaison. But here we go! The Liaison Master List

tag list: @idkbutspencer @literallyprentissstwin @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @cynbx @tenaciousarcadeexpert @rawritsmolly @dontshootmespence @princesswagger15 @drspencerreider @illegalcerebral @marvelfanlife @rt8815 @punkpenguin2019 @extremeobsessions101

“Where’s Julianne?” Lucy says looking around the hospital room. Spencer rests his hands on her shoulders laying her back down in the bed.

“She’s alright. She’s sitting out in the hallway with Emily.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Lucy says shaking her head. “I had no idea she was there until she was literally standing over me…”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Spencer says as he pulls a chair over. “I got sidetracked with Vivien and didn’t even notice that Julianne had left.”

Lucy gasped as she sat up again. “Vivien… Where is she?”

“I dropped her off with Will. She’s fine. I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the baby yet.”

“Oh the baby! Is it alright?”

“He’s perfect.” Spencer says grinning from ear to ear.

“We’re having a boy?” Lucy questions. Spencer nods his head. “I haven’t told anyone because I just found out myself. But I think Garcia’s been wanting to do a gender reveal since she found the pregnancy test.”

Lucy giggles shaking her head. “Gotta love her.”

A knock comes on the door and Emily peers her head in. “There’s a little someone here who wants to see you.” She says before stepping aside.

“Mommy!” A little girls shouts. She was soon followed by the social worker. “Look who came to visit.”

“You’re early.” Lucy says as she pulls Vivien into her arms.

The social worker nods her head as she walks over to the bed. “I...ummm...I have some bad news.” She says. “We found family. They live up in Maine.”

“Oh…” Lucy says. “Well that’s uh...great…”

“Not really.” The social worker says as she pulls another chair over. “I went through their records. Home life, financial stabilities, everything really. They just aren’t suitable for these girls.”

“How so?”

“It’s their estranged grandparents on their father’s side. No offense, but they’re old. Like pushing eighties--old. The girls won’t be adults by the time the grandparents pass. Nicholas had kidney failure and he refuses treatment for it and Kathy has alzheimer's. I’m trying to talk to the judge here about still giving you custody.”

“What do you the grandparents say?” Spencer asks.

“They want to see their grandchildren, but they don’t want custody. They can barely take care of themselves let alone caring two minors as well.”

“But the judge won’t give us custody?” Lucy questions.

“Her hands are tied. We have to go through the Maine Family Courts in order to sign over custody to you two. Which means, instead of us meeting here at the courthouse, we have to meet in Maine with the judge and go from there.”

“So do we bring the girls with us?”

The social worker nods her head. “They must attend the court hearings and bring all of their belongings that they have here right now. Once we know where they will be living, I will ship the rest of their things to their location.”

“So we have to leave?” Vivien says looking up at Lucy and Spencer. “I love it here.”

“Yeah, me too.” Julianne says as she walks into the room. “You guys are the best. Plus when our grandparents pass, we’ll be put into the system and separated. I don’t want that. I want a family. A real family.”

“And we will do our best to keep you both here.” Spencer says as he pulls Julianne onto his lap. “We are a family now no matter what.”

_______

Two Months Later

Spencer lays on the bed letting out an exasperated sigh. “Long day?” All he did was look at her and she knew it wasn’t good.

“Why couldn’t you have gone into work and I stayed home?” He says getting off the bed and walking over to his closet.

“Vivien is sick and she wanted mommy to stay home, plus my aunt called this morning announcing her visit.”

“Your dad’s sister?” Spencer asks.

“Not really.. He worked with her a lot and she was around a lot when we were growing up so I just called her our aunt.”

“Tomorrow. I’m hoping she’ll be nice enough to take care of Vivien while I go into work tomorrow. Which she isn’t very difficult to care for. She only time she whines and when she coughs.”

“And how long is your aunt staying?”

“Monday.”

“The whole weekend?! But we planned on taking the girls to the museum to help Julianne with her report. Please tell me she won’t be joining us.”

“No..” Lucy says shaking her head. “She’s coming to town to visit and she has a meeting with the British Consulate so she needs a place to crash.”

“Okay no offense, but she scares me.” Spencer says climbing under the covers.

“You know, I always thought she looked like Emily when I first met her. I instantly thought of my aunt when I saw Emily.”

“Maybe they’re related.” Spencer jokes. He leans over to kiss her before laying down and turning off his lamp.

_________________

Lucy woke up to the doorbell ringing. Glancing over at the clock she saw that it was 7am. The girls didn’t have to be up for another half hour. Who could possibly be at the door? Dragging herself out of bed, she grabs her hoodie and tosses it on over her t-shirt and heads for the front door. She opens the door to find Emily standing on the porch. “You do know that I’m not going into work today, right?”

“Vivien’s sick, I know. I was looking for recipes to use to help her get better or at least feel better and I found this soup that my mother used to make for me when I was sick. It tastes about the same, but I think she put more honey in it that actually instructs. I thought I’d drop it off on my way in.”

Lucy hears a door close and then her aunt’s voice as she yelled at the taxi driver. “Uber’s are more reliable than you.”

“I know that voice.” Emily mutters.

“You do?”

“Uh yeah.. She’s my aunt..”

“Looks like I owe Spencer twenty bucks.” Lucy says.

“What is she doing here?” Emily asks.

“She’s in town for a meeting and visiting.”

“Visiting? Visiting you?”

Lucy nods her head. “My dad worked with her a lot so I basically grew up with her and we just always called her our Aunt. Which she pretty much is compared to his actual sisters.”

“Small world.”

“Well two of my favorite faces to brighten up this gloomy morning. I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“And I didn’t know you were my boss’ aunt.” Lucy says as she lets her and Emily inside.

“Mom?” Vivien calls from the bedroom.

“You have a kid too?”

“It’s a long story.” Lucy says as she heads for the girls’ room. “What’s wrong?” She asks sitting down on Vivien’s bed. She felt her forehead. She was still very hot.

“My throat really hurts.”

“Alright, well Auntie Em just brought you some soup, do you want to try some of that?” Vivien nods her head. “Okay, then let’s go try it and see how you feel afterwards.”

“Mom, the button fell off of my sweater. Can you fix it?” Julianne says walking in from the hallway.

“Of course, but for today wear something different and I’ll fix it when I can.” Helping Vivien out of bed, Lucy carries her to the living room and lays her on the couch.

“Hey Viv,” Emily says as she walks over to the couch with the bowl of soup in her hands. “I know you’ve been under the weather the past few days so I made you some soup. My mom used to make it for me whenever I was sick.”

“Who is she?” Vivien asks pointing to Emily’s aunt.

“Vivien, this mine and Auntie’s Em’s aunt Margaret.”

“Which would make me your great-aunt.” Margaret says as she sits down on the coffee table. “I knew your mother since she was just as small as you are now.”

“And Auntie Em?” VIvien asks.

“I knew Emily when she was just a wee little baby. I married her Uncle Edmund just after she was born.”

“Did mommy tell you that she and daddy were taking us to the museum this weekend?” Vivien says sitting up on the couch. “Jules has a report on the space shuttle so we’re going to the museum to look at rockets and planets!”

“Yes but you can only go if you’re better.”

Vivien’s smile faded and she pouted at Lucy. “But mom.. I want to see the rockets.”

“So do I but your health is more important to me right now than model rockets.”

“Not all of them are models, mommy.”

“Mom, I’m ready to go.” Julianne says as she runs out of the hallway throwing on her jacket.

“You stay here with Viv,” Emily says as she stands up from the couch. “I can drop Julianne off on my way to work.”

“Are you sure?” Lucy asks.

“Yes I’m sure.” Emily says. “In the meantime, you can catch up with Margaret.”

“I expect to see you tonight at dinner!” Margaret calls after her.

“Dinner?”

“Oh yeah, Emily’s mother is hosting a dinner tonight with some leaders from the British Consulate, which reminds me. Would you like to be my plus one?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh come on, Luce,” Margaret says rolling her eyes. “Spencer will be fine with the girls tonight. It’s only a few hours. Cocktail hour and then the dinner and you’ll be home before the girls’ go to bed.”

“Of course he can handle being here with the girls...but you know Elizabeth never liked my father.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you! Your father just had different views than her so they disagreed a lot.”

“But I’m his spawn, Margaret. She’ll think I’m just like him and treat just the same..”

“Well if she tries to pull anything on you, I promise you I will unleash hell on her.” Lucy giggles making Margaret smile. “Now come on, let’s go find you a dress while Vivien drinks her soup.” She says pulling Lucy off the couch.

_____________________________

“You could’ve said no.” Emily says laughing as she zips up the back of Lucy’s dress.

“She gave me no choice. Gosh, what if your mother hates me?”

“You may be your father’s last offspring, but that doesn’t mean you’re like him. Alright? Don’t worry about her. Plus if Margaret said she’d handle my mother if she steps out of line.” Emily fixes the pins in Lucy’s hair. “Also, if she plans on going to prison for unlawful murder of a fetus, she’ll think twice before she says or does anything distasteful.”

“Distasteful?” Lucy says raising an eyebrow. “Now you sound like my grandmother.”

“We better not have the same grandmother too.” Emily jokes. “Alright, you’re good. Now let’s go. She might not hate you now, but she will if you’re late.”

______________________________

Looking up at the mansion, Lucy placed a hand on her stomach as her nerves heightened. Taking in a deep breath, she follows Emily and Margaret up the steps to the entrance of the building. Stepping through the door, an arm was placed in front of her stopping her from walking any further. “Robert, let her through.” She hears Elizabeth call. Robert steps away to ler Lucy through.

“I know I only spent like three hours at your house but my-my you look even more radiant now than ever.” Elizabeth says as she approaches Lucy. “Now I know you’re a little nervous about being here with mine and your father’s disagreements in the past but that’s over with. And I would never treat you like I did him.”

“Did you call her beforehand?” Emily asks Margaret.

“I gave her a little warning. I want this night to go as smoothly and as quickly as possible.”

“Oh god, who invited that slut?” Lucy looks up towards the stairs to see a few woman standing close together, wine glasses in their hands.

“Why are they here?” Lucy says looking away from them.

“Their father was in the same rank as yours,” Elizabeth says. “He’s very close with the British Parliament. I take it you know them.”

“I wish I didn’t.” Lucy says. “We went to the same high school together when my family moved here.”

“Well well well, it isn’t Lucy Goosey.” The middle woman says as she approaches Lucy. “Long time no see. How’s the FBI treating you? Still working with Orkin?”

“Um no, I’ve been with the BAU the past year and a half.”

“And you’re knocked up. Who was stupid enough to sleep with you?”

“Look at her dress..” The one on the right spoke up.

“Really? You three are still acting like you’re in high school. Grow up.”

“Goosey’s got an attitude. Guess that’s what happens when you’re the daughter of a Marine and working for the FBI.”

“She’s trying to be a kiss up too. Did you bribe the Prentisses into letting you crash the party?”

“Ladies!” A booming voice called from the top of the staircase. A tall, muscular man in a Marine uniform descended that stairs. “That is enough.” Emily went to stand beside Lucy, her arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. “Lucy, how great to see you again. I know it’s been a year since your father’s passing and I give you my condolences. I wish I could have been there for the funeral.”

Lucy nods her head. “I appreciate it, Colonel Robins. And I’m sure he would have too.”

“And as for my daughters… I apologize. Sometimes I regret bringing them with me to social events.”

“Hey!”

“Daddy!”

“What the hell?!”

Lucy giggled as Emily pulled her away. “See? You always have someone in your corner. But let’s get something to drink because I am dying for some wine.”

________________________

“Pssst..” Lucy says as she shakes Spencer. “Spencer… Wake up…”

“Hmmmm?” He says turning over and lifting his head. “Luce? Are you okay? What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock. I am so sorry I’m late.”

“No you’re fine.” He says sitting up.

“How was the dinner?”

“Oh goodness, I wanted to die.” Lucy says as she makes him unzip her dress. “First I was verbally attacked by the Sanderson Sisters and then during the dinner, I was so sick I barely touched anything and I ended up throwing up on Emily’s shoes in the car. I literally feel so embarrassed and so crappy that I don’t know which is worse.” Lucy pulls off her shoes as she lays down on the bed in her under garments.

“I wish you’d come to bed like that all the time.” Spencer says as he begins kissing her.

“Oh!” Lucy exclaims pushing him away. “Vivien-”

“Is already sleeping and so is Julianne. Vivien’s fever is gone and her glands aren’t swollen anymore. I think Emily’s mother is a witch.”

Lucy giggles as she climbs under the covers. Resting her head on Spencer’s chest she listens to his heartbeat and soon finding herself falling asleep.

If you liked this part, than please be sure to leave it some love and some feedback! I’d appreciate it! I want to know what you all think!

Thank you! :)

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