#aaron hotchner x original character
Text
Our Minds Entwined-----------------------
ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12
MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------
pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid
summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member
warnings: mentions of wet dream, fantasying of 2 guys, oral f receiving, praise, probably more im not sure
A/N: hope you beautiful humans enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3
also requests are still open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid & i would love love to write more so shoot me something :)
haappppy readingggg!
chapter eleven:
With a weary slump of her shoulders, Evelyn followed in Hotch's wake, her feet dragging the ground as though shacked by invisible weights. Her eyelids were heavy, drooping in a slow cadence, fighting the lull of sleep that beckoned with each laboring blink. Her lips parted in a slow, drawn-out motion that mirrored the sluggishness of her body. The latte sat in her hand, a supposed ally against the drowsiness, but her yawns betrayed its ineffectiveness as her eyes grew heavier still. The trip had been a marathon of activity--packing, the airport, the plane--all leading to a touchdown in Somerville just as the sun began to rise.
On the way over, Hotch had briefed her on the details of the case. A couple weeks ago, a polyamorous couple--two older men, and their shared partner, a younger woman--were found dead. Then, two days ago another household with the same victimology were killed. The coincidence wasn't lost on Evelyn as her mind wandered to that god forsaken dream that had haunted her since.
And on top of that, throughout the trip, Hotch's silence was a wall between them, broken only by the case details. Despite herself, Evelyn tried to profile him knowing it was wrong. Evelyn replayed the hot tub scene in her mind, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd crossed a line, even if it was unintentional... right? Her head was a battlefield of jumbled thoughts and creeping doubts, all clamoring for attention. She blamed the fog in her brain on the lack of sleep.
Evelyn, under the weight of Hotch's intent gaze, gave way to a yawn so extravagantly drawn out it seemed less a sign of fatigue and more a playful challenge to his enduring patience.
"Stop staring; it's too early for judgment," Evelyn murmured, her eyes slits of defiance as she ambled after him towards the station. "This is just my face before the caffeine kicks in. It gets better, I promise."
Hotch offered no reply, merely casting a glance over his shoulder at her. The warmth of their close encounter in the hot tub enveloped his thoughts, an unwelcome yet intoxicating recollection. He wrestled with the memory, a guilty pleasure, even as he held the door open for her. Yet, he steeled himself, shoving those dangerous reflections to the back of his mind, all too conscious of the professional boundaries that he dared not to cross.
"Okay, Hotch, I get it, we can't all be as chatty as me with zero sleep. But come on, give me a smile, or at least a grunt," Evelyn coaxed, her laughter not quite reaching her eyes. "Anything to show you're still with us."
There was a pause, a look from Hotch that cut through her words, heavy with unvoiced thoughts, before he turned and walked away, his back a silent command to keep up. Evelyn's expression dimmed, her lips curving into a faint frown as she trailed behind him. The team's warm welcomes echoed around them as they entered the conference room. Evelyn's smile spread across her face, skillfully painted on to mask the twinge of disappointment that Hotch had left.
The moment Spencer's eyes found Evelyn, a soft blush bloomed across her face, and she offered him a smile tinged with complicity, which he mirrored back, a small but significant lift to her mood. The brief contact of Spencer's hand grazing her shoulder as she passed was enough to deepen the shade on her cheeks as she fought to maintain composure.
"How was Miami hot stuff?" Morgan questioned, as his arm sling around her shoulder with a teasing squeeze.
"Hot," Evelyn declared, her hand theatrically waving in front of her face in a mock fan, while her elbow lightly collided with Morgan's side. "Nearly had me seeing stars. Poor Hotch was this close to performing CPR," she said, her words a deliberate prod as her eyes sought out Hotch's, hoping for any form of reaction.
"I'd say it was less about the heat and more about you neglecting to eat properly," Hotch commented dryly, his words carrying a hint of reprimand, but hey at least he was talking.
"Well, we really shouldn't dwell on the past," Evelyn said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"Speaking of meals," JJ added, sliding a blueberry muffin towards her with a knowing smile.
"You're a saint, JJ," Evelyn said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. "I'm this close to giving you a thank-you kiss."
"As tempting as that sounds, you can actually thank Hotch for this one," JJ laughed as she nudged her. "He made it clear--no breakfast for you means a mountain of paperwork duties for us."
Evelyn's tension eased a fraction as she shot Hotch a teasing smile, her heart fluttering at the gesture. "Well, sir, rest assured, I strictly adhere to the 'no kissing the boss' clause. It's somewhere in the fine print, right?"
Evelyn's cheeks took a shade of pink at her own words, hanging in the air, laden with the what-ifs she couldn't quite push aside. Hotch's eyes, sharp and discerning, momentarily betrayed him, darting to her lips before he caught himself.
"Agent," he cautioned, his voice low but clear. Evelyn quickly raised her hands, a silent truce, as Hotch redirected his attention to the team. "What do we have?"
"At this rate, they'll be naming the next HR workshop after you," Morgan murmured, barely containing his amusement.
"What if the unsub is part of a group like this themselves and feels wronged by it?" Rossi muses out loud, his fingers tracing thoughtful patterns against the stubble of his chin as he stands, back pressed against the brick wall.
Reid paced slowly around the table, his fingertips grazing a file as he passed. "It's possible," he began, his voice a soft murmur, eyes narrowing slightly. "The specific targeting and overkill suggest a perceived slight or trauma associated with such relationships."
Prentiss gave a firm nod. "Let's not rule out the possibility of the unsub viewing these groups as a threat to their moral or social beliefs."
"The female-centric dynamic could be important too," Evelyn tossed out, her steps halting beside the pictures of the victims.
As she pondered aloud Spencer found himself focuses intently on her face, her nose scrunching ever so slightly in thought--a gesture that drew a fleeting smile from him as he cast his gaze downwards in hopes no one else noticed how he looked at her.
"Maybe the unsub feels wronged by the idea of a woman being the main focus? Or it could be jealously. Someone who wanted into a group like this but was rejected," Evelyn continued.
"Or the opposite," Hotch contemplates, his brow furrowed in thought. "Someone who was in a group and cast out." He pauses, hands clasped as he leaned forward. "Let's dig into the background of the victims and see if there's a common thread."
The conference room was steeped in the day's fatigue, the air heavy with the tang of frustration and the stale scent of coffee. The team had returned from their respective tasks--interviews, crime scenes, and calls--all roads leading to dead ends.
The room's stillness is shattered by Garcia's voice emanating from the screen. "I've got something," she declares, the pixelated glow casting an ethereal light in the dim room. "Both triads belonged to an ultra-elite society known as 'The Labyrinth.' It's like Fort Knox meets Fight club--no one talks about it, and no one gets in without an invite. I mean, you don't even want to know the lengths I went to find this in the first place."
"I mean, if the society is as exclusive as P says," Evelyn begins, her hand sweeping through her hair in a fluid motion. "Then the unsub is likely also part of it or they have resources that could get them information on it."
Garcia's voice bursts through the speaker. "Prepare to be dazzled," she trills, the clatter of her keystrokes punctuating her excitement. "The Labyrinth is rolling out the red carpet for a gala tomorrow night at the old Whitmore Estate. And you, my darlings, are virtually invited to the ball."
Morgan hunches over the table. "So, we need a cover," he states, "We can't just show up at the doorstep and demand to look around; it'll spook the unsub."
"Evelyn and Reid could blend in," Prentiss nods. "They fit the profile of two of the victims. Maybe they can draw the unsub out." Evelyn's eyes widen as she glances towards Spencer.
JJ chimes in, "And maybe Morgan could--"
But Rossi interrupts, shaking his head. "No, the second male victim's profile is different--older, more experienced. It's more Hotch's profile."
A crease forms between Hotch's eyes, a shadow of concern etching his features as his protective instincts surge to the forefront, coupling with a deep-seated unease about the unfolding plan. A delicate warmth crept up Evelyn's cheeks, her pulse quickening at the thought. The idea of going undercover with Hotch and Reid, a scenario plucked straight from her wet dream, sends a shiver down her spine and her thoughts into a tailspin. She opens her mouth, to joke it off, but it dissolves into a muddled string of half-formed words, leaving her with a bashful silence.
Hotch's words falter, a rare hesitation flickering across his usually impassive features. "I'm not sure if this is the best course of action--,"
Emily interjected swiftly, her words slicing through Hotch's protest. "Hotch, we may not get another shot at this. Using you three as bait isn't ideal, but it might be the only way to corner our unsub."
Hotch's eyes settle on Spencer, who gives a firm nod. His gaze than shifts to Evelyn, and though he resists the urge to analyze, the rosy flush of her skin and the accelerated pace of her breath betray her feelings. It's a jarring contrast to the professional distance he's been striving for. Hotch's nod was there, almost imperceptible, but the frown that follows is deeply etched, a clear sign of his disapproval despite his acceptable.
The room hums with a focused energy as the team pores over digital and paper archives alike, each article detailed events like this and of the couples who frequent. Garcia curates a comprehensive collection of profiles detailing the Labyrinth and its attendees, while JJ and Morgan sift through social media for the gala's guest list. In a corner, Spencer and Rossi huddled over a cluttered desk examining the blueprint of the Whitmore Estate.
Meanwhile, in a makeshift office provided by the local police chief, Hotch and Evelyn are deep in study. The walls, now a gallery of whiteboards, are dense with the scribbled complexities of polyamorous relationships and the backgrounds of the victims.
"I've come across open relationships in case studies, but an entire society? That's a statistical outlier if I ever heard one--Spence would have a field day with those odds." Evelyn says with a soft shake of her head.
A faint arch forms in Hotch's brow, a muted signal of surprise to the informal reference of Reid. Catching the lift of Hotch's brow, Evelyn quickly adds, "You know, Hotch, the silent treatment isn't going to work when we're undercover," she started with a tilt of her head. "You've going to have to convince everyone we're together soon, remember? So, you might want to start practicing liking me now."
"I'm not giving you the silent treatment, Evelyn." Hotch remarks, his countenance flat, eyes reflecting any readability.
"Sure, if you say so," Evelyn replied, her eyes thin slits of skepticism. "But if you're not up for this, Rossi could step in. We need to be believable, or people could get hurt."
"That's not going to happen," Hotch assets, his gaze unwavering, the firm set of his jaw sending a flutter to Evelyn's core. "I've played the part before; I can do it again."
"Then what are you so worried about?"
"I just want you to remember boundaries, Evelyn." Hotch reminds. "The seriousness of this cannot be understated, and I need to know your focus will be on the right aspects of the plan."
Hotch could see the subtle crumble of her face, the faint twitch of hurt that flickered across her features. She masked it swiftly, her voice laced with feigned indifference. "Understood. I'll try to keep my inevitable swooning over your pretend affections to a minimum, sir." The lightness of her words contrasted sharply with the hurt in her eyes, and Hotch felt an immediate ache in his stomach for causing it.
"Evelyn, that's not--" Hotch's voice trailed off, the hardness in his eyes giving way to a rare vulnerability. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out, to smooth away the creases of pain from her expression, but the opportunity slipped away as Rossi emerged at the door.
"Hotch, can I see you for a second?" he asked, gesturing subtly with his head.
Hotch offered a silent nod, his gaze holding Evelyn's for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes etching a mental image of her--the tilt of her head, the unresolved tension in her shoulders, before he reluctantly turned to follow Rossi. Spencer, shadowing Rossi's steps, pauses at the threshold, his gaze fixed on the departing figures. With a soft click of the door closing, he turns, the hush of the room settling around him as he turns to Evelyn.
He steps behind her, his hands coming to rest gently upon her shoulders. Evelyn tips her head back, her eyes lifting to meet his. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and soothing.
Evelyn's laughter bubbled up, slicing through the heavy air. "Had a moment with Hotch. Pretty sure he was subtly hinting that I keep my feelings in check as if I'm incapable of that."
Spencer's lips curled into a half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Hotch tends to get a bit tense with these high-stakes operations," he reasoned, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her shoulders, easing the knots.
Evelyn melts into the warmth of his hands. "That feels good," she sighs, her head gently reclining in contentment. "And tell me about. I'm the one who's going to be all up on my boss and coworker. Talk about awkward."
The thought of sharing Evelyn with Hotch sent an unbidden rush of blood straight to his cock, a visceral response that caught him off caught. He clears his throat, a subtle cover for the fleeting thought that, perhaps, the idea isn't as disconcerting as it should be.
"At least with you I don't have to pretend."
"I don't know, I think additional practice might be beneficial." Reid says, his fingers edging closer to the delicate skin of Evelyn's neck, prompting an involuntary hitch in her breath. "My room tonight? Purely for preparation purposes, of course."
"Dr. Reid, w-what are you suggesting?" Evelyn managed to tease out, despite the gentle pressure of his hand on her pulse point making her senses swim and her focus waver.
He leaned in, his head tilting to plant a gentle kiss in the hollow of her neck. "You're smart enough to deduce it," he murmured softly against her skin, the words almost a sigh, "missed you."
A giggle escaped Evelyn, and she nimbly evaded his grasp. "Spencer, we're practically inviting an audience at this rate."
"Which is precisely why I'm saving it for later, just wanted you to give you a preview, sweetheart."
The remainder of the day unfolded without incident, with Evelyn buried under a towering pile of research papers, its weight causing a dull throb behind her eyes. Every detail was meticulously arranged for tomorrow--the tickets secured, the outfits chose, the escape routes mapped. However, no degree of preparation could quell the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is precisely what led Evelyn to Spencer's hotel door, perched anxiously, her knocks rapid and insistent, her gaze sweeping the corridor for onlookers.
The door finally creaked open, and Evelyn breezed inside, her voice a soft tease, "Took you long enough." Spencer, with a quick glance over his shoulder, closed the door with a silent snap.
Spencer's laughter echoed through the room, a carefree sound that made Evelyn pause. "Sorry, I was in the shower," he said, a sheepish grin on his face.
It was then that Evelyn really looked at him--his hair damp and tousled, clinging to his forehead, chest bare, skin dotted with water beads that caught the light, the soft material of his pajama pants hanging from his hips. Her eyes lingered, almost hypnotized by the sight, and rendered mute.
Evelyn's lips parted, ready to unleash a clever comeback, yet only a soft, airy giggle escaped. Without thinking, her arms encircled him, her heart thudding erratically from the sheer nearness of him.
His fingers tenderly framed her face, his laughter a comforting hum. "Evelyn, you're going to get all wet," he teased, thumb softly grazing her cheek.
"That's what I'm counting on," Evelyn replies, a coy smile on her lips as she lets her hands wander down his chest, her fingers flirting with the edge of his pants. "I believe I was promise there would be a rehearsal on the agenda this evening."
"Mmm, is that what you want baby?" He questioned teasingly, his hand guiding her gaze to his with a soft tug at her locks. "Be the good girl I know you are, get undressed, and get on the bed."
Evelyn's eyes sparkled with anticipation, her feet barely touching the ground as she hurried to the bed. Her gaze locked with his and with deliberate care, she pinched the hem of her shirt, swiftly gathering the fabric and sending is flying across the room in a fluid motion before she attended to her pants. His eyes followed her every move as he inhaled a sharp breath, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. Her gaze followed down to his pajama pants and the tent that was growing within them, excitement growing in her chest.
She carefully turned her back towards him as she hooked her thumbs around her pants and underwear letting them drop to the floor. She crawled on to the bed, arching her back in an exaggerated motion, giving Spencer a full glance at her glistening pussy. She turned quickly, resting on her elbows as she smiled sweetly at Spence who was all but drooling at the sight.
"You're so good sweetheart," Spencer exhaled, each step towards the bed measured, the corners of his mouth lifting at her eagerness, "so pretty."
Evelyn's legs instinctively clasped together in a silent plea for relief as a wave of warmth surged through her cheeks and pussy.
"Take this off, baby," Spencer commanded, the sound of his tongue clicking in disapproval as his fingers drummed a soft rhythm against the material of her bra, "Wanna see all of my beautiful girl."
She quickly complied, sitting up just enough to unclasp the pesky thing. His large hands splayed over the expanse of her thighs, coaxing them open as he settled between them, his gaze penetrating as her tits bounced out of the cups of the bra. "God, you're so pretty sweetheart."
A soft moan escaped Evelyn's lips as she squirmed on the mattress, "Spencer, need you."
Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hand moving closer to her heat, fingers tracing back and forth in a tantalizing motion. "Gonna take such good care of you baby."
His thumb began to rub slow circles on her swollen clit, Evelyn's breath hitched, her hands frantically searching for something to grasp on to, landing on his wet curls. He teased her slowly, his fingers moving across her soaked folds. Evelyn felt as though she could see stars as she watched Spencer begin to plant soft kisses up her thighs, getting closer and closer to where she wanted him.
She jutted her hips off the mattress, her fingers curling around his hair as if to move him towards her throbbing cunt. "Evelyn, patience teaches us to regulate our emotions. Neurologically speaking, it's linked to serotonin levels in the brain, did you know that pretty girl?"
"Spencer, please, baby put that good mouth to use."
Spencer let out a soft laugh before placing his mouth to her clit, sucking as if it were his full-time job. The moan that released from her was loud and unrestrained, her body thrusting against his mouth. His tongue curled into her, eating her out like it was his last meal on earth.
"Need you to be quiet, baby. Hotch is on the other side of this wall, don't want him hearing you, do you?" Spencer asked, his voice muffled. "Or maybe you do? Is that what you want? You want Hotch to know how I treat this pussy?"
Evelyn's body trembled with pleasure, her hands grasping against the cool sheets as if to steady herself. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer as if to suffocate himself between them. "I-I,"
His tongue lapped greedily through Evelyn's folds, her cunt trembling against the pressure as broken moans escaped her lips. He met her eyes, peering up from his position devouring her aching pussy.
"Spencer I-oh, fuck, I'm so close," Evelyn moaned out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she humped against his face, his nose brushing against her clit every so often. "I can't, I'm gonna-"
A knock at the door caused Spencer's motion to freeze, a panicked gasp releasing from Evelyn's lips as her orgasm dissipated into thin air.
"Reid, are you up?" Hotch's voice, firm and unexpected, pierced the silence. Evelyn's mind was a whirlwind of foggy thoughts, her body reacting before her brain could catch up. Beside her, Spencer's limbs flailed in a hasty attempt to feign alertness, both like deer caught in headlights.
"Oh my god," Evelyn hissed, her hands flying to shield herself. She leaped from the bed, her eyes darting desperately around the room for her scattered clothes.
"Just a second!" Spencer called to Hotch. Meanwhile, Evelyn snatched the nearest shirt, one of Spencer's and yanked it over her head. It was a clumsy dance, one that nearly ended with her sprawled on the floor, tripping over the bulky obstacle of his go-bag. "Get under the bed."
"Under the bed?" Evelyn's voice was a hushed blend of disbelief and urgency. Spencer returned her gaze with an unwavering stare. "God, you're lucky you're so good with that scholarly mouth of yours."
"Radio waves... they're the longest wavelengths in the electromagnetic spectrum," Spencer began, his voice a low hum as he paced the confines of the room. "First predicted by Maxwell in 1864," he continued, more to himself than to Evelyn. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "And they--"
He was cut off as Evelyn interjected. "Spencer, why are you giving me a physics lesson right now?"
"I'm trying to, uh... calm down."
Evelyn's gaze traced the path of Spencer's, her eyes light up at the sight of the tent still evident in his pants. A soft giggle escaped her lips, a delicate sound in the quiet room. Their eyes met once more, and she exhaled a prolonged, "Oh," the syllable stretching out as brought a hand to her mouth.
"Just get under the bed."
Evelyn's laughter was a soft echo, quickly muffled as she deftly maneuvered herself under the bed. Her breath caught in her throat, the only sound the creak of the door swinging open.
Spencer was met by Hotch, his figure framed by the hallway's dim light. "Reid, can I come in?"
With a subtle clearing of his throat, Spencer managed a casual tone, "Uh, yeah, sure, of course."
He swung the door fully open, his expression carefully schooled into one of practiced composure. Hotch stepped over the threshold, his eyes sweeping over the room. Spencer's gaze flitted after his, a silent prayer of gratitude that the room bore no trace of Evelyn's clothes.
"I just wanted to talk to you about tomorrow," Hotch stated, his voice betraying none of the scrutiny his eyes had just performed.
"Sure, what's up?" Spencer asked, the words slightly pinched at the edges, his voice climbing a register.
Hotch's arms locked across his chest like a barrier. "This undercover operation is delicate, and we can't afford any... complications."
Spencer swallows hard, his eyes darting to the bed for a fleeting second. "Of course, I understand."
With a casual lean against the desk, Hotch's features relaxed just perceptibly. "I know you understand, but it's not just about the operation. It's about perception too. Evelyn's already under a bit of scrutiny."
An awkward cough escaped Spencer, a clumsy veil over the tension he felt, knowing well that Evelyn hung on every word. "Right," he responded, an unspoken understanding that they were discussing her father.
"Gideon set a high bar, and it's clear Evelyn is rising to meet it," Hotch begins, his voice steady, a tinge of pride in his tone. "She's carved out her own space on this team, a fact we all recognize. But rumors don't always favor the truth, and any suggestion of her involvement with another agent could be damaging..."
"There's nothing unprofessional going on, Hotch," Spencer quickly countered, his voice a swift defense.
Hotch raised a hand, a gesture of pause and consideration. "I'm not accusing you of anything," he clarified, his voice firm yet fair. "I'm just asking you to exercise caution," he articulated. "For her sake. She has a bright future, and it shouldn't be jeopardized by baseless chatter."
Under the bed, Evelyn's brain was in overdrive, dissecting every word, her mouth suddenly dry.
"I understand."
"Good," Hotch affirmed with a supportive squeeze on Spencer's shoulder. "Goodnight, Reid."
"Yeah, you too."
next
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See this?
That’s the look of pure horror, when his girlfriend’s father aka Aaron Hotchner storms into the working space the chief landed them (just imagine they are on a case somewhere far away) and LITERALLY seething and *angry vocalising* his disagreement with theirs relationship, because Spencer’s 5-10 (just age gap idc) older (reader’s over 18 for dear life) and she just started working there (7months). Derek has to physically restrain him from hurting his not so soon son in law. He calms down soon enough to get to work, but they’ll have a big talk about it, including Rossi. Cuz this man can’t hold a secret for dear life. I can imagine the ANGRY FACE Hotch does 🤬🤯 when he finds out about it. Also can you make it a lil bit longer with spice? Like after the big disapproving talk with Hotch, that they freely have a long hot makeout sesh, not worried about her dad finding out about them. In their apartment, where he’s sitting with his back to the headboard, hands tightly squeezing her hips while she’s whining on his lap.
I Hope this text above was coherent enough for you to consider making something with it. I hope that both sides of your pillow are cold. Ily<3
YESSS OMG
Not-so-happy Hotch
In which Hotch finds out that Spencer and Y/N have been seeing each other and is not happy about it
Warnings: angst, angry angry Hotch, spoilers from season 5, age gap (9 years), reader is 18+, heavy making out near the end + grinding kinda, sadness a lil bit, fluff, lmk if I missed anything!
Spencer Reid x fem!hotch!reader
Y/N sat on her bed alone, in the hotel room. The team were in Massachusetts investigating the murders of a variety of women. It was her third case. She’d only been there for about 7 months.
She’d been dating Spencer for 4.
The day she walked into the BAU in her little white blouse and tight black jeans, Spencer had his eyes on her. Not just because of her body but because of her bright personality. He couldn’t believe how wonderful she was even after what she went through.
He obviously knew her before she started on the job, she was Hotch’s daughter. She first fell for him when she was 18. The day Haley died. She was with Jack and her in the house. Foyet had tied her to a chair and had her watch him kill Haley.
It messed her up. It made her want to stop people who did the same to other people and their families. She had originally wanted to be a teacher but everything she saw that day changed her entire life.
Spencer was the one to untie her because her father moved right past her, putting a finger to his lips with his gun raised in the other direction.
Y/N felt her mother’s blood splatter all over her face and clothes as Foyet shot her in the head. She squeezed her eyes shut and let a muffled scream out over the gag he had tied around her head. The sound of Haley’s body hitting the floor made her flinch.
She didn’t dare open her eyes but she could tell Foyet moved closer to her. “I’m gonna go find that little brother of yours and you can watch me kill him too.”
And he moved her mother’s body.
Y/N cried and didn’t open her eyes until she knew he was out of the room. She tried so desperately to get the cloth out of her mouth but nothing worked.
Moments later, her dad appeared. She widened her eyes and whined. He let a tear slip from his eye and pressed his finger against his lips.
He moved past her and looked forward, making sure that his gun was pointed forward. Then all the noises from fighting and gunshots were heard.
She let out more screams hearing her father fight for his life. It was almost like she couldn’t breathe., she was screaming so hard.
Then she heard them tumbling down the stairs. Punch after punch.
“Reid, get her out of here!” She heard the voice of her uncle Derek Morgan behind her.
Suddenly, Spencer Reid appeared in front of her, making sure not scare her. “You’re okay. You’re okay, look at me, Y/N.” Spencer rushed as his hands tore at the knots around her hands and feet.
She looked into his eyes trying to stop the tears. When her hands were untied she reached up and tore the cloth from her mouth. When her feet were untied, Spencer wrapped his arms around and pulled her up from the chair.
She buried her head into his shoulder trying to contain her sobs as he carried her out of the house. “Is my Dad okay!?” She asked when he set her down on the ground. “Is he dead too— what about Jack— where is Jack!?”
Spencer shook his head and watched her eyes dart around. Her chest heaved but she was barely taking in any air. “Y/N, stop. Look at me, please.” Truth was, he didn’t know if Hotch was dead or alive.
The woman stopped looking everywhere else and settled on his eyes. “Take a deep breath in.” He held her hands tightly in his. He watched her body shake as she did what she was told. “Now let it out.” She nodded and squeezed his hands a let her deep breath out through her rounded lips. “Good. Keep breathing just like that.”
Y/N had always had a little girl crush on her father’s coworker. He was cute and awkward and had a nice smile. So, when she started working there, she was able to get to know him better.
“Everyone, meet our new liaison, Y/N Hotchner.” Garcia squealed and clapped, Morgan smiled and went in for a hug and Spencer stood back with his hands in his pockets with a small smile on his face.
Hotch turned to the rest of the team. “She’ll start out as a liaison but we’re working to get up to profiling level. She is a part of this team just like all of you.”
Days after that, past her mother’s funeral, she left town. She went to college, pretty much reset her entire life. One day, after all her classes she went to get coffee. All by herself. She didn’t have many friends anyway.
While she sat by the window with a book and her coffee, someone familiar walked in. She didn’t see him at first but when she heard his voice across the shop, she looked up. “Spencer?” She called.
He turned around and was pleasantly surprised. “Y/N!” He raised his brows. “What— how—“ he paused. “Hi, how are you?”
She pressed her lips together. He had the same look on his face that everyone did when they asked her that question. Pity. “Y’know, I’m okay.” She shrugged.
Spencer nodded. “G-good.” Y/N took the pause to look at him. His hair was longer, stubble was grown out, he was really fucking pretty.
She inhaled deeply, a wave of confidence washing over her. “Can I… buy you a coffee?”
Spencer tilted his head with a smile. “No.” He shook his head. Y/N visibly deflated. “I-I already bought one.” He leaned in a bit closer. “You can buy me a chocolate donut with sprinkles though.”
She scoffed jokingly. “Wow. Begging a broke college student for food.” She rolled her eyes with a teasing smile, pulling her wallet from her back pocket and walking up to the counter. Spencer blew a raspberry and followed behind her.
In her hotel room, Y/N pulled her knees up to her chest waiting for his knock at her hotel door. Her heart always raced when she realized that they could be caught by her father. But she loved Spencer and she fully believed that nothing could stop her from seeing him. She knew her dad would probably have a big problem with it. Y/N was now 24 and Spencer was almost 33. She knew also that he didn’t want her dating anyone for that matter.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She smiled and bit her lip, climbing out of the bed. She walked to the door and opened it. “Yes?” She raised her eyebrows, trying to keep her composure as Spencer stood there with a small smirk and a small pink box in his hands.
“I have a delivery for a Ms. Y/N? Is she here?” Spencer asked, his eyes gliding down her body.
She shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. “Depends. What’s in the box and what do I owe my amazing delivery man?”
Spencer stepped forward a bit. “There’s a donut in the box. And you owe me a few kisses as the delivery fee.” He smiled, his eyes were soft— puppy dog like.
She bit her lip. “Well in that case…” She pulled him into to room by his tie and shut the door quietly.
Unbeknownst to both of them, Hotch was standing at the end of the hall watching this.
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
Y/N was outside talking to a few news reporters who were asking questions. Her dad and Derek went to check out the latest crime scene. When she saw the SUV roll back into the parking lot of the station where base of operations was set up.
She nodded at a man with a microphone who had asked her a question. “Everyone should stay inside, lock all doors and windows. Don’t answer the door after 7. Be safe and if you know anything, call the number on the screen.”
She walked away towards the SUB and furrowed her eyebrows when Hotch got out of the car hurriedly.
“Hotch— wait! Hotch, you gotta cool down!” She heard Derek’s voice from the other side.
She furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the side. “Dad, what’s wrong-“ He pushed past her and walked towards doors of the station.
Derek rushed past her too. “What the hell?” She whispered, following them.
“Hotch, just give the kid a damn second!” Derek called after him.
Their voice disappeared as they entered the station. Y/N’s eyes widened when she realized “the kid” was Spencer.
Inside, Spencer was drawing lines across the map of Massachusetts where the murders happened when he heard Derek yelling. Luckily, the place was clear of cops because they were in a small town and all eight cops were assigned to keep watch of a few people.
“Spencer Reid, get your ass here right now!” His voice boomed and all of the blood seemed to drain from his face. He whipped his head around in shock and turned away from the board nervously. “Mind telling me why I saw you go into my daughter’s room last night?” He asked, his hands placed on his hips.
Y/N walked up beside Morgan who had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. Her eyes desperately tried to connect to her boyfriend’s but the poor man was so scared he didn’t look anywhere but at Hotch. “I-I…uh…”
Hotch walked forward closer to him a little too quickly for Derek, Spencer and Y/N’s comfort. “You better give me a real good excuse and o don’t wanna hear what I’m thinking.” He shook his head, his voice low and intimidating.
Spencer didn’t say anything so Hotch all but lunged forward and Derek reached and grabbed his arms, pulling him back.
“Dad, stop!” Y/N cried.
Derek pulled him back more. “Come on, Hotch. Take a breath.”
“Let me go, Morgan.” He shook his head and shut his eyes.
The man shook his head too. “Not unless you can truthfully promise me that you won’t hit the kid.” He paused for a moment and when he didn’t get an answer, nodded. “Guess I’m not lettin’ you go then.”
Rossi walked into the building with JJ and Prentiss behind him, all of their faces contorting in confusion. “What the hell is this?” The man asked, holding his hands out.
Hotch didn’t spare a glance at them. “Reid’s messing around with my daughter.” He said.
Spencer shook his head. “I-I’m not messing around with her, I love her!” He blurted. The room was silent and it seemed to make Hotch even more mad.
He turned, ripping himself away from Morgan, pointing at his daughter. “Outside. Now.” He walked past her and towards the doors, pushing Rossi’s hand away when he tried to reach for his shoulder.
Y/N looked around at everyone, holding eye contact a little longer with Spencer before sighing and turning to leave the station.
When she got outside, her father was there with his arms crossed and a stone angry look on his face.
“Dad—“
“You are not to see him in a romantic way ever. Or I will fire you from this job.” He saw how her eyes softened and tears filled them.
She shook her head. “Do you think— I mea do you think I’m just messing around, dad?”
“Yes, I do. Y/N, It’s wreckless and unprofessional.” He nodded.
Y/N squinted. “You think so little of me? That I would let him play me like some game?”
“You are a child, Y/N—“
“I am a grown ass woman and I’ll see whoever I want to see.” She stopped him.
“He’s almost 10 years older than you!” Hotch scoffed.
She groaned and covered her face. “We are both mature adults. I don’t think it’s that much of a problem, dad.”
He stopped moving and looked at her. “I mean It, Y/N. Stop seeing him or I will fire you.”
Y/N have him a challenging look. “Do you want my badge now, then?” She raised her eyebrows and stuck her hand on her hip.
Hotch seethed. His daughter was just like him and it sucked.
“Get back to work for now but it’s mine when we get back to Quantico, understand?”
She shook her head with a roll of her eyes and pushed past him.
“And I don’t want you near him either!”
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
Case closed. And now they were on the way back. The entire jet was uncomfortably silent.
Y/N didn’t show it on the way back but she didn’t think that her father was bluffing anymore. They landed on the air strip and when everyone was off, her eyes filled with tears.
It was only her and her father left. She pulled her badge from her coat pocket and walked up to him, holding it out.
He looked at the badge for a moment and then at her. He sighed heavily and turned away from her, exiting the jet.
She raced after him. “So, what— you’re not firing me?” She called. He stopped and turned to her.
“Get Spencer and meet me in my office.”
He left her there, a billion possibilities racing through her head. Would he fire Spencer instead? Would he fire both of them?
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
“Spence!” Y/N whisper shouted as she walked behind him.
He flinched and turned. “H-hi.” He nodded. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day Hotch almost beat him up.
“Uh… my dad wants us in his office.” She nodded.
He nodded and visibly grew nervous. “I- okay.”
Y/N stopped him from walking and tilted her head. “Spencer, wait.” He looked down at her. “Don’t be… scared. I won’t let him do anything. And he won’t fire you. You’re too good at this.” She smiled, placing her hand in his.
He opened his mouth but then closed it before deciding that he was going to say something. “I-is there any way we can hold hands until we get to Hotch’s office?”
She tilted her head to the side and didn’t respond, she only squeezed his hand tighter.
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
Y/N, for Spencer’s safety not for her comfort, net go of him when they reached her father’s office. And she walked in first. Spencer followed behind her, his nervous stare causing him to move quicker and knock over a file that was on the little table near the door.
Y/N saw Rossi standing in the corner. She furrowed her brows and tilted her head.
She looked back at Spencer before looking at her dad who still looked very angry. They stood side by side and in silence until Hotch spoke.
“Sit.” He pointed at the two chairs in front of the desk. Spencer almost immediately fell into the chair, Y/N slowly sat down in the other one.
They were enveloped in silence once again. Hotch sighed and looked down at his desk. “Listen,” He started. Y/N bit her lip. “I do not approve of your… relationship in any way.” He shook his head. “But, I can’t afford to lose either of you. This job needs you.”
Rossi shook his head. “This team needs you.” He crossed his arms.
Spencer and Y/N looked at each other. “I think your relationship is premature, unprofessional. I expect you to at least think about a break up for the good of the team.” He nodded. Y/N looked down at her lap. “Y/N, you may go.”
“But-“
“Now, Y/N.”
She looked at Rossi who nodded his head comfortingly, telling her silently that Reid would be okay.
She got up from the chair and took one last look at her boyfriend before leaving.
She decided she would go home because there was no way her father’s little talk wouldn’t take more than and hour.
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
Y/N paced in her kitchen, worried for her boyfriend’s well being. She hadn’t heard from him in two hours.
She had changed from her work clothes into a shirt that belonged to Spencer and a pair of pajama pants. She had also cooked because she knew Spencer would not have eaten between the time he left the BAU and when he got to her apartment.
She heard the familiar knocks at her door and rushed to it. She flung it open and there stood her boyfriend who looked sad. Y/N pulled him inside and wrapped her arms around him wordlessly. He leaned down to bury his head in the crook of her neck.
“Are you hungry?” She whispered, her nails lightly gliding over his upper back. He shook his head. “Do you want to go talk?”
He nodded and she pulled away from him, keeping her hand in his. She walked with him to her bedroom.
He climbed up on the bed first, his back pressing against the headboard. Y/N began to sit down next to him but he pulled her over his lap, hands settling on her thighs. “Spence…” She brushed a piece of hair out of his face.
“He Uh…” He cleared his throat. “He told me that he wanted me to break up with you. And then when I told him that I couldn’t do that, he told me not to hurt you or he would ruin my life.”
Y/N tilted her head to the side and rubbed his cheek bones with her thumbs. “I know you’d never hurt me Spence.” She shook her head.
He smiled and leaned in a bit. She kissed his lips slowly. “I don’t care that he doesn’t want us to be together.” She shook her head.
“Me either.” He nodded, trying to catch her lips again. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands found her hips.
Their kiss deepened and his hands guided her body back and forth over his lap. A little noise came up from her throat and she accidentally bit his lip. She pulled away when he hissed and giggled quietly. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He let out a deep chuckle, squeezing her hips. “Bite me as much as you want. You know I love your mouth.” He whispered in her ear seductively. Y/N’s eyes all but rolled into the back of her head.
She whined and leaned back in, his tongue entering her mouth almost immediately. She absolutely loved his kisses. He always tasted like peppermints and chocolate.
His hands moved her back and forth again, she tried to ignore the feeling of his hardness underneath her. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.
Desperation to just be close to each other enveloped them. When they broke away for just a second, his name left her mouth breathlessly. It wasn’t to get his attention, it was to tell him that she was scared. She had been scared of losing him.
They felt closer than ever before, both of them on fire for the other. They had no care I. The world of who approved of them or not.
.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.
Helloooooo i hope you enjoyed this! If it’s not how you expected I will happily rewrite it to the best of my ability!
I tried to add some flashback scenes to make it longer. Also, I made Hotch really mean bc I didn’t know how else to write him but I love him so much!!
Thank you for requesting @thbidkbutok !!! Luv you babes!
Also, feel free to request anything you want! In my ask box or private message!
Oop i forgot the Taglist lol
Taglist: @mrsgweasley
@tuesday-yellowxx
@blue-willows
@monzarella
@criminallymagic
@mermateyepmatewithte
@lipstixstain
@urlovelydarling
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@livviex
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#spencer reid#spencer fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x original female character#criminal minds#spencer x oc#spencer x reader#aaron hotchner
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MAIN MASTERLIST
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Here's the link to my Ao3 also
- Joel Miller Stories -
Latching On To You (finished)
| Joel Miller x F!reader
Series summary: What happens when, after thirteen loving years of being with Joel, you start to feel like he’s slipping away from your grasp? How much of yourself will you lose because of the trauma your father put you through at such a young age? You could be wrong about Joel, but something is telling you otherwise - or are you just not healed enough to see past your own insecurities?
Is Leaving Even An Option? (finished)
Joel x F!reader
EXTREME TW: Extreme domestic abuse (verbal and physical), PLEASE READ WARNING BEFORE READING!!
Summary: Your days have become one in the same - even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson, being home is evidently worse. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?
One Door Closes & Another One Opens (ongoing)
Joel Miller x OFC! Divorce Attorney
Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional? For her sake.
Christmas Getaway (One-Shot)
| Joel Miller x Softball Coach!F!reader
Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.
Three, Two, One - Draw! (One-shot)
Cowboy Joel x F!reader
Summary: In Tombstone, you’re the bartender at Wyatt Earp’s saloon, a favorite actually. You’re one of the fastest shooters in the west, having learned from the best - your brother, Doc Holiday. One night after your shift at the saloon, your husband Joel Miller, tells you he wants to practice your draw speed. However, he’s not talking about guns.
New Traditions // Valentine’s Day (One-shot)
Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.
————————————
- Aaron Hotchner Stories -
They Always Come Back (Ongoing)
Aaron Hotchner x f!reader
Explicit, 18+
Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a couple decades you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.
#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfic#latching on to you#joel miller series#pedro pascal#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x you#criminal minds#one shots#series#joel miller imagine#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller and OC#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character
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Revelations - Season One
Summary: FBI agent Leila Kade faces a profound life change after giving birth to a baby girl, supported by her loving husband. Despite the challenges of motherhood, Leila returns to her role as a dedicated agent a few months later, ready to confront gruesome and haunting cases with her BAU team.
Pairing: BAU!Fem!OC x Male!OC , EVENTUAL Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!OC (Like much later)
Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. All the usual Criminal Minds stuff. And there is NO CHEATING.
Note 1: I imagine Leila Kade as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don't see her as South Asian, then that's fine. It won't affect the storyline. I also imagine the OC!Male as South Asian, but again, it won't affect the storyline.
Note 2: The team will consist of the main cast (Emily, Derek, JJ, Spencer, Penelope, Aaron, and Rossi) but will also include Elle Greenaway and Jason Gideon because they were some of my favorite characters and I wanted to include them with the rest of the team. Basically, Elle and Gideon never leave when Emily and Rossi join.
Note 3: There will be multiple time skips throughout this series. For example, the first chapter will begin on the first season and episode of the show but then there will be a time skip to later episodes (because there are obviously way too many episodes to write this series on and I wanted to include specific episodes that would help the plot of this story). This means that this series will be a slow burn romance but I believe it to be better this way. This will also stray from the actual show a lot, so don't expect it to follow the plot precisely.
Series Masterlist
•• Chapter One: Extreme Aggressor
•• Chapter Two: Compulsion
•• Chapter Three: The Fox
•• Chapter Four: Derailed
•• Chapter Five: The Tribe
•• Chapter Six: Local
•• Chapter Seven: A Real Rain
•• Chapter Eight: Machismo
•• Chapter Nine: Charm and Harm
•• Chapter Ten: The Fisher King - Part 1
#angst#fluff#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds#fanfiction#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#original female character#original male character#criminal minds bau#criminal minds series#revelations series
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awhile ago there was a surge of BAU twt!aus on tiktok and i made some silly lil tweets as well LMFAOO but this is the first time i'm ever posting them online 🙏
note, for context: river is my male!oc <3 all you need to know rn is that he's in the BAU and in a r/s with aaron! 👨❤️💋👨
cw: suggestive content below the cut, 18+
that's all that i can fit into one post!!! i still have a bunch of tweets left but i'd post them some other time... hope someone out there found this entertaining to read n laughed a lil 🫶
BONUS: pre-relationship river and aaron‼️‼️😋
#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x male!oc#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#spencer reid#derek morgan#jennifer jareau#criminal minds tweets#criminal minds au#aaron hotchner x male oc#aaron hotchner x male original character#oc: river alexander
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SOME UNHOLY WAR BY MMAUVEMAUDE002
WORK IN PROGRESS! (COMING SOON)
#fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds original character#monica said#spencer reid#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#ssa aaron hotchner#ssa spencer reid#criminal minds original fanfiction#original fanfic#mauvemaude fanfics#amy winehouse#some unholy war#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#work in progress#black reader#black fem reader#black fem original character
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Self-Indulgence; A Criminal Minds Multi-Fandom Fic
Also found on Wattpad, Quotev, and Ao3 under the name BreakingBranches.
CHAPTER 1 - Loose End
Season 1. Episode 15. Unfinished Business.
IT'S NO SECRET that the younger you are, the longer time seems to go. Once you reach your fourties' a decade feels like a fever dream. Cassandra was still a little far from that mark. She was still only twenty-six. Twenty-six and she had wasted eight years of her developmental life personally deteriorating her own psyche. Only to be spat out by the big green machine. Now, eight years wasn't a decade, but it was certainly a long time to spend running towards no light at the end of the tunnel.
The tunnel had ended. The light still wasn't there.
Cassandra wasn't suffering, not really. She wasn't stuck in an endless torture of her own mind. She had passed her evaluation. She had been cleared for the field. Twice now, given she was sitting in the stuffiest office possible with the worst fluorescence known to man. Maybe the second worst, and she would only know this from the memories that this little scene brought back. Except in these recounts, she was on the other side of the desk.
"Miss Lorayne, we ask that you answer these next few questions to the best of your ability. Do you understand what I mean by that?"
"I do."
————————————
There was an incessant buzzing in Cassie's pocket. At first, ignoring it had been her go-to solution. That hadn't worked. It still rang on. Over and over. And over again. Nothing but a frighteningly stimulating reminder of why she was here. Sometimes another person's kindness only serves to make you feel more helpless. Cassie had gone from a problem solver to a statistic in just twenty-five seconds. A few months later she was back to her protector role. The only difference was that this role didn't require her to move around every few months. Currently she was stationed in Quantico, Virginia. Sure, she had been given the warning that her days of freedom were seldom with this job. That traveling was still very much a constant, so much so they needed a personal jet. Having a house was just a new sort of feeling. Not a good one. Not a bad one either.
From police to FBI, oh how the mighty had fallen. Everyone had their opinion of each other in that part of the world. CIA, FBI, homeland security, the military, and all the way down to beat cops just trying to fill a quota. They all had their specific issues with one another. Sometimes it reached a point where the individual only cared because it was mob mentality. Cassie had her reservations, but she also had to have a job. Work till' you die, the American dream.
Physically, she was beyond qualified. Mentally, she met the requirements. Socially? That was going to be a fickle bridge to cross. One she was about to meet much sooner than she would have liked.
Today wasn't supposed to be her first day on the job, the role of a profiler and investigative specialist for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Much to her chagrin, it was going to be beyond easy. They had been assigned a case early in the morning, a Sunday. She wasn't given the full details, former serial killer, something about resurfacing. Something about an old vendetta. Something about a former agent who had spent the later half of his life obsessing over a lost case. Something, something, it was always something. Initially, Cassie was to be formally introduced to the team in a timely manner, in which it was supposed to negate any sour feelings or potential problems. Though since the jet was about to take off, she was unceremoniously given a pat on the shoulder, and a general gist of what she was up against.
However there wasn't enough time to prepare her for the mixed bag of people she was about to meet. Not entirely in a negative perspective, it all trailed back to her own social issues. She was easier to describe than them, and that was more often than not five simple words.
'Hard to get along with'
The muscled figure stepped onto the plane, inching her way through the first enclosed space. Once she was on the other side of the thin door she was met with six faces. Only one was vaguely familiar, the other five were total strangers. It wasn't hard to place vague description to the silent confused figures before her. Nerdy, jock, kind, snappy, old. That's about the most she processed. There was obviously a lot more that had been described to her, but looking at them now she decided to just boil it down to the bare minimum.
"Lorayne."
"Hotchner." Cassie stuck a hand out to shake his own. A firm grip meeting an even harder. Calloused fingers met better kept ones. He still had a wedding band on his finger, that was probably the only reason his skincare routine was better. Not that she had any to compete with.
Cassie had met agent Aaron Hotchner before. He was working on a case that bounced back and forth between military and federal jurisdiction. She was stationed in America at the time, a fateful meeting that didn't seem all that important so many years ago. Today she was unable to tell if she was thankful for it or not.
Green tinted eyes met hazel ones. The stare was neither aggressive nor polite. It was just that; a look. "How is Haley?" Hotch's wedding band was warm, he'd been white knuckling his fist all morning. At first she thought it might have been her arrival that sparked the odd tension in the plane, however when a seventh figure emerged from the back end, she realized she shouldered the blame pretty evenly. It didn't take an analyst to pick out he didn't belong here. He wasn't horribly anxious, but he rubbed the nail head of his pinky against his ring finger. He was angry about something. Most likely the liaison she was told would be joining the team temporarily. This was his old case. He'd have to feel some sort of guilt, nervousness, or pressure over this. After all in some way of describing it, it was his fault this guy was still out there. You'd never hear Cassie admitting such a thing out-loud.
Hotch's response about his spouse was interrupted by another voice. A heavy voice, it was filled with confusion. "Hotch?" Aaron turned, Derek was almost out of his seat now. His skin crinkled as his nose scrunched. A half a sneer. "Right, sorry." Aaron took a step to the side, he'd gesture over towards Cassie.
"This is the new agent, introductions were supposed to be more formal but..." Cassie could see the way he fought himself to not look towards the odd man out. She piped up. "Liberté, egalité, fraternité." Her pronunciation wasn't that far off. It sounded practiced. It was. "French revolution?" The skinny kid's brows knitted. His train of thought was derailed by the ever consistent Derek. "We all know that one. What the hell does it have to do with this though?"
Cassie shrugged, awkwardly rubbing her chin against her shoulder as she did so. "Something about sticking it to the man. I was supposed to start Monday, but they weren't entirely sure when the team would return. You're as upset about this meeting as I am." The atmosphere was honestly much kinder than most situations she had been in. But she was out of her element, a fish out of water. Here everyone seemed casual, when her normal was the very opposite. All eyes were on her. It took her another moment to understand why. Thankfully with the change in pace she didn't have to meet every confused gaze with a stiff position. She was allowed to be as informal as possible. Still, impressions mattered.
"Cassandra Lorayne, Cassie, Cass, I don't have much of a preference." Tan fingers flexed against her sides. Without her manual of squaring her shoulders, planting her feet together, and raising an arm to her forehead, she didn't know what to do. Aaron was nice enough to pick up the slack. He'd point with all five fingers towards each member. "Jason Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, and Max Ryan. Ryan was a part of the initial case eighteen years ago." At each call of their name the member would give some sort of wave or awkward smile, as if the pointing wasn't enough of an indicator.
The air about them gave away the notion that they weren't entirely aware of her indoctrination to the team. Cassie doubted it was sprung on them, but the concept was probably only batted around before more important things stole their attention away. Aaron had known for a while, he was the only one lacking any sort of surprise.
A few moments of people watching later and the jet was already taking off. Nobody sat properly, instead they'd shift their positions to sit around a clunky laptop that Derek was opening up. Dark fingers pads clacked against buttons, a small ringtone, and there was a woman on the other end. She had blonde hair and a very personal choice of fashion sense. "Talk to me sweetheart." Noone on the jet besides Max batted an eye at his nickname for the woman. Reid caught Cassie's confusion. A cautious smile paired with a tilt of her head led him to notifying her with two fingers half raised. "Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst." Cassie nodded. "Your oracle, yeah?" She'd murmur back to him. He didn't quite catch the reference. She didn't get a chance to explain it.
"Philly PD confirmed that Carla Bromwell's been dead less than twelve hours. She was forty-seven years old." Hotch and Morgan glanced between each other. "That's odd."
"Their age range is older."
Elle cut in. "Why would the victimology change?"
"That's not the only odd thing, she was found tied with flex-cuffs, not ropes." Everyone was a puzzled as the next person. "That's all I have for you, PD is waiting for you at the crime scene." Morgan just nodded and waved her off with another unprofessional comment. "Thank you baby girl."
It wasn't easy to tell whether Cassandra's perplexed expression was due to the new information, or Morgan's choice words for his coworkers. Reid would once again offer some lighting. "It's sort of their thing." It wasn't a very good answer, but a relation like that, one that hadn't violated any rules yet, wasn't something she was able to comment too much on as the newbie. Instead she'd take the high road and sit back with a thick file of the former case findings. Unlike most others on the jet, she didn't spend her time researching other murderers and serial killers. It wasn't from a lack of care, more the opposite. Her former job hadn't been much different, albeit more physical. But she tired from surrounding herself with the worst humanity had to offer. She'd seen both sides of the spectrum, but the most heinous interactions often crossed her desk. If she had put any free time into it, she would have taken the plunge several years ago.
Instead of a refresher, this was her first time seeing the details. She'd have to put a good amount of effort into reading up on it. Everyone else was familiar enough. The seasoned veteran of this particular killer didn't seem to keen on the help, which only created another barrier.
He wasn't stupid, and if Cassie could hear the way her newfound coworkers spoke about him, so could he. It wasn't anything unprofessional just voiced concerns. Cassie wondered if she had listened any longer when those same concerns would be made about herself. She didn't have the time to worry about some other's perception. The folder was thick, it smelled like freshly printed paper. Old records had been tracked down and republished, it beat searching up the initial documents.
She'd read over the whole thing twice before flipping back to the first police report and actually thinking about the words in front of her. By all accounts this new method of killing didn't seem to connect the previous offender. If it wasn't for the letter, nobody would have known. Which meant it was someone who wanted to do this, not someone who couldn't stop themselves. Which, Cassie had never found to be an accurate description of a murderer. She knew other profilers would classify that sort of person as an unwilling victim of their own urges. She liked to classify them as dead. But this was FBI, not the lawless land of the military. Blue jeans pressed against the back of leather seat covers, repositioning herself at the previous train of thought.
Why had he changed? It wasn't of his own accord, couldn't possibly be. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Her tongue caught between her teeth, sounding off a sort of clicking noise.
————————————
Carla Bromwell's home was filled to the brim. The news reporters and curious passerby's were enough to give Cassie a headache. The amount of detectives inside was another issue. She'd split off from the two most comforting figures to take a look at the body. Gideon and Elle were headed to the room as well. "Agents Gideon, Greenaway, and Lorayne." The department detective raised a brow, but he wasn't given time to push the subject matter when Max came into the room.
"I was wondering when you'd show up."
Cassie didn't listen to the rest of their conversation. She might have been interrupting something when she spoke. "It's been processed?" A simple nod was all that she'd need. Kneeling down near the body, Cassie would carefully move her wrists and neck. The photos were an obvious indication that this was a different methodology. Elle took over, repeating Cassie's steps. Maybe it was out of distrust. Maybe it was out of morbid curiosity. "There's no bruising."
"The note said 'no fight'." Cassie tilted her gaze up towards Elle. Who was currently distracted with something else. From the looks of it, one could only assume it was whatever Max had said. Bad first impressions, but Cassie was struggling to really care about how the older man felt about all of this. Her scrutiny wasn't solely just from blaming him, more so his attitude. She didn't like it. Which wasn't actually saying much given she didn't like a lot of things.
Gideon broke the tense silence. "The wound is extensive, it's violent, he's escalating." Elle went on a sort of goose hunt after that. Not that Cassie would have done any differently, but she just wouldn't have said it out-loud. Her ability to work with others wasn't nonexistent, yet it did need an update to the manual.
"Elle's good at this sort of thing Max."
"Never said she wasn't."
Leveraging herself with the nightstand, she'd use an arm to stand up and take a step back so Max could look at the body himself. There wasn't anything else the could learn from it without the forensics report. Ryan pressed a padded finger against the woman's clothes. "I haven't felt like this around a dead body in a long time."
Cassie didn't need to hear anymore. He was taking it too personally. The former MP was no saint, she had her fair share of cases that she wore too openly on her sleeve. She had grown since then, to some extent. And in the areas that she hadn't, she kept hidden.
As she was stepping out, Reid, Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were all coming back. Hotchner had a paper in his gloved hands. It didn't take a genius to guess what it was.
"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." Max had taken the note, intent on reading it with his own eyes. The note offered two more context clues, a quote from Max's book, and the promise of a gift in two days. It was all an attempt at riling the former agent up. The unsub was targeting him specifically. Either a grotesque fascination or the perfect means of getting him worked up. An on edge agent is an agent who can't do his job. It was working.
They weren't going to find anymore than that. The behavioral team led themselves outside, only to be greeted by more angry reporters and microphones in their face. Cassie weaved through the crowd and dodged into the closest car available to her. A black sedan with tinted windows, a rental, something for the team to use. The department was the next agreed upon stop, from there everyone had done just about the same as her.
Unluckily enough she had managed to pick the one vehicle that Morgan was driving. The leather smelt of some bad cleaning agent and the air was humid inside the van. Getting comfortable seemed impossible so she'd opted for the self meditating movements of pressing down overgrown cuticles with her thumb.
"So,"
She turned her head, her eyes lagging behind in the motion of facing him.
"So?"
"First day."
The car stalled to stop. Someone was taking too long to turn.
"Yep."
"That's all? No questions, comments, concerns? No issues?"
Cassie's light brown brows furrowed. "Should there be?"
"No."
"Then, no."
There was silence again. The conversation was over.
"But,"
Until it wasn't.
"Most aren't as enthusiastic to touch a body on their first day."
"CSI had already done what they needed to. I didn't see anything wrong with it."
Morgan let out an odd half-laugh, half-cough. "Again, I meant as enthusiastic." He'd tilt his head to the side, still facing forward as he spoke. His eyes never left the road ahead, but he made up for that with other movements. Every time he spoke his right pointer and middle finger would spread off of the wheel and point to who knows what. His right thumb tapped against the leather cover.
"I wasn't enthusiastic."
Her nose would crease with the rest of her face. An extended proof of her dissatisfaction over the comment, as if the quick change in tone wasn't enough.
"It was the first thing you did."
"But it's not my first time."
She watched as his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth.
"What did you do before joining the BAU?"
"You don't know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I did."
"This. Homicide investigation. We were all profilers, and detectives, and the law."
"Military?"
"Yeah. Aaron didn't say anything?"
"Didn't get the time to."
"Right."
There was no more talking after that. Further into the city streets Morgan would trade his hand motions for a thin pursing of his lips. Traffic was entertaining enough to drop any other questions he had. Or, Cassie just wasn't.
There was no time wasted between parking the rental and meeting with the other timely members of the unit. They made their way inside the sand colored building and pretty quickly they had the entire department working with them. Cassie would take a few steps towards the back, as though she were yet another officer these agents were preaching to. It wasn't only due to her new rank on the totem pole with the team. She was also a little jarred by how quickly they where to adhere to policy and comply. Then again, this was the bureaucratic process, not the militaristic.
Hotch lead the beginning of the profile, as he went on the others bounced off of him. They were a real unit. Real as hers used to be. Most likely better.
"Over the last two decades, our killer has changed. The age of his victims is more notable."
The head detective on the case shrugged his shoulders. "The keystone killer is older, his victims are older too. So?"
"Most killers have specific fantasies they act out through their violence. These people fall under an identifiable few categories. He liked young brunettes."
"And that means?"
Back to the BAU members, they worked fairly seamlessly. There was no indication of a turn, however nobody attempted to speak over the younger Dr. when he chimed in. A commentary on Ted Bundy. Cassie only hoped he was brought up due to his known name, and not some weird fascination. Reid would go on to explain even Bundy had a type, a type that when he started to neglect, lead to his ultimate capture. In the same vain, it lead to more violence.
Gideon raised both palms at an angle. "It could be a sign that he's devolving." As though there was some invisible speaking baton being passed between the group, their statements moved from one to another. First with Morgan. "Which could mean he's about to slip up. Though, the devolution theory is just that, a theory, we can't rely on it."
"If he is in a frenzy," Hotch interjected, taking the mantle of the conversation again. "We can't tell how fast he'll continue to devolve."
"Or how many more victims he'll take before he's finished." Gideon curled his mouth inward.
"So, in order to keep that number as low as we can, we need to go over everything. Everything we learned eighteen years ago, everything we got today."
The oldest of the BAU leaned back against a whiteboard covered wall. He steepled his fingers together. "We'll start with the older profile, Max," The latter turned away, shaking his head and waving the former off. Gideon sent a look towards Hotch, who cast it over to Cassie. Her eyes went wide, then they scrunched up. Russet colored lips pursed before a curtly nod was offered.
"Right the..." She thought, frowned, then continued speaking. "We're looking for a man in his forties now, white. He's thoughtful, meticulous. His former means of killing suggests a law enforcement or military background. Most likely he's stayed in the same area all of his life." Had she been speaking too much? She passed the proverbial stick with a look of confusion. Tossing it's invisible form into the air and hoping for the best.
Elle would come to the rescue. Then Morgan, then Reid, and back to Hotch for a closing statement. Gideon had meandered off after Max. At least, that was the most likely scenario. She couldn't really see the stern faced agent walking off just because he didn't want to present in front of the class anymore.
If he had, she wouldn't have judged. Her own presentation of the profile left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't used to this way of phrasing it. It felt clunky, unnecessary. She looked for evidence and facts, not probability. A profile wasn't unheard of in her investigative unit, but it wasn't relied on in the way it was here. Psychology was one thing, making up a killer in your mind was another. She was still skeptical. Openly so when she had been interviewed for the position. They felt her stance was a fresh look. She felt it was a pity situation.
After wrapping up the main idea, Hotch gestured for the team to follow him to a carved out space for them. The blinds were up, leaving the goings on inside of the room visible to everyone. Cassie didn't mind. The openness felt fresh. The sun could peak in through the windows. Her old office had been without windows, the light fixtures were bleary, the paint job reminiscent of a filing cabinet covered in dust. She much preferred it here.
She appreciated the two whiteboards. Even if it made the room more cramped, it allowed the youngest of the group to visualize his musings. In her past, she would have just strewn papers about her desk and hoped for the best. That seemed viable here too, but with so many members it might have gotten overwhelming. She glanced down at the wooden fixture. It already was.
"We should focus on the differences between the crimes, what's he doing that's new?" Hotch breezed past the group, yet another Manila folder in his hands.
Elle, Hotch, and Morgan opted to sit around the table. Reid stood, phasing in and out of his own little world when the conversation required it. Gideon was beside him, he put more of his eggs in the basket of the exchange. The self-certified genius was good at balancing them between the two. Cassie was comfortable standing as well, just on the other side of the room. "The victim was hit in the head, so that's one." Derek leaned back against his seat. "The note mentioned she didn't put up a fight, so why feel the need to hit her? To show dominance?"
Hotch shook his head. It didn't make sense. "He never needed to before." Elle thrummed her fingers along a photo of the crime scene. "But a hit like that wouldn't just scare her, it would knock her out."
"—To control her better." The head of the group finished.
Cassie's gaze flicked between each speaker, landing on Gideon as he found interest in the abyss. He stared towards a photo, but his head seemed somewhere else. "He switched from a knot, his signature, to flex-cufs."
"They're easier, it saved him time." Morgan kept his eyes on Gideon. He'd turn his head over his shoulders to catch Cassie's eye when he finished speaking.
"No, no, it's not that. The knot was intimate. It wasn't about the ease of immobilizing her. He chose a completely unnecessary approach."
"Maybe we should just forget about this, seriously. It's not helping us to go over what others already knew. Let's pretend he's a new offender."
The glass was cool against her arms, she'd trade her hands for her biceps when pushing off of the wall to step forward. A little brazenly, she let a few fingers fall to the head of Morgan's chair, pressing down and holding on as a sort of cane for her posture. "That's the problem, he's still the same person he was. We can't mull over what happened in the past, but we can certainly compare it to the future. He went from intimate, slow, methodical killings. He played out his fantasy with full physical control. So he traded it, for what? A smack to the head and a heavy lidded girl. He can't watch himself take the life from her eyes anymore. Where's the 'fun' in that." Cassie sucked in a breath through her teeth during her commentary. She let it go quickly as she ended.
"What I'm saying is—"
"—Guys, I have a name." All eyes moved from Cassie to Reid. She lifted her hand off of Morgan's chair and crossed her arms. Her hip dropped at an angle and she balanced more weight on her left leg.
"Nibrahs? What is that?" Reid bit the inner left part of his cheek at Elle's question. "It's backwards, S. Harbin. He was an original suspect."
"It's not him."
Max had finally made his entrance. He brushed off the conclusion, claiming Scott Harbin, S., had been in jail for stabbing someone. Sentenced thirty years, which meant there was no way it was him.
"Unless he's out on parole."
Max didn't seem to keen on the notion. "He's a pervert and a small time thief, he steals undergarments. I interviewed him, twice, he's no killer." There were a few exchanged looks. Morgan picked up his phone and nodded in Hotch's direction, who returned it with a nod of his own. "I'm going to call Garcia, see if she can find anything about him."
Max raised his voice, adamant that they were being lead down a dead end. A second wave of looks. Silence. Morgan left.
"Jason why are we here?"
"Hm?"
"Are we here to catch him, or just prove to Max he knows more than us?"
Nobody answered, because the only one who could had left. The four remaining didn't have a chance to pick up where Cassie had left off. Derek came back in with a shit-eating grin and a notecard with scribbles on it.
"We've got an address for Scott Harbin. He was paroled three months ago, missed his last hearing."
"That makes him a wanted man." Elle was already out of her seat, pulling her brown jacket over her shoulders.
Leaving the station house required a bit more than a few rental and squad cars. Priorities were higher, everyone was banking on the fact that this was supposed to be their guy. A killer to be put away. It still felt too easy. However, a dead end still pointed you to a different direction. They'd be negligent not to take it. No matter what was about to meet them on the other side.
————————————
They'd been banking on the fact that this was their Keystone Killer, SWAT was going to be involved one way or another. It took a few extra moments to get their group in the door after the men in black. They took a more defensive stance and let the first three members of the BAU past. Elle and Cassie were at the forefront, the presence sent a silent figure to dart from behind a cabinet.
"Don't move— Hey!"
Elle practically vaulted past Cassie towards the man, grabbing him by his shoulder and sending a swift kick to the back of his leg. He stumbled over and she applied her weight to his back to apprehend him. "Are you Scott Harbin?" Cassie felt a hand on her shoulder, and instinctively she moved out of the way. Max looked down at the man being detained. "That's him."
"Nice to see you too Ryan." He'd smile up from his cuffed position. Cassie's brows met in the space between her eyes and tilted upwards. "You missed a parole hearing." Gideon commented. It was just an excuse, they had no reason to be here. They had no real evidence. A lawyer could dismiss his name in the riddle easily. But, an excuse bought them time and a search warrant.
The agents wandered through his home, picking up what they could just based on his arrangements. He was organized, neat, obsessively so. He needed constant control over every aspect of his life. It made a good argument. Cassie didn't like the feeling of it, though. She stood in front of him, her hands resting on her hips. Her expression gave a lot more away than just a train of thought. She bounced from theory to theory. Moss colored iris' scanned his form. Even going so far as to move behind him from where he sat in the arm of his couch. She couldn't see any injury to his hands. Nothing of note about his posture or physical capabilities. He moved his fingers back and forth, a squeezing motion, an attempt at self soothing. She didn't think this was the guy. As much of a creep as he was.
He looked out of the corner of his eye at her. "You finished checking me out?" Cassie locked eyes with him, nothing but disinterest on her face. She wasn't going to say anything, even if she was she wouldn't have had the chance. Elle made her way over, almost gesturing for Cassie to take a position behind her. The two were about the same height, maybe Elle had an inch or two on her. Cass was a little better built physically. Not a hulking mass of muscle, but you could see the beginning of a tone through her short sleeved shirt. She'd take the offer anyway and step around the two. Elle was leaning over in Scott's face, her eyes wide with something beyond disinterest. Fury maybe. "Did she upset you? Make you angry? What? You're fantasizing about hurting her, me? No, no you wouldn't do that. What's the matter Harbin, can't handle a woman who isn't afraid of you?"
Scott licked his lips. A sign of enjoyment, a sign of stress, it wasn't enough to tell just from the movement alone. Agitated, probably.
Gideon pulled Elle aside. Cassie didn't want to listen. She moved on from the room and up the stairs to the second floor of the home. A few SWAT agents still roamed, but she mostly watched as Morgan and Hotch moved back and forth. They stopped in the entrance of a room for a second. She waited, too many cooks in the kitchen. She wasn't needed anywhere right now.
"We need some help in here! Get an ambulance, now!" Morgan's voice was like an alarm bell ringing, everyone throughout the home heard it. Someone called out a response and raced down the steps past her. She was moving with similar urgency in the opposite direction. She was tall enough to see over their hunched forms, Hotchner and Morgan crouched near a woman. Her mouth had been taped shut, her feet tied at the ankles. She was wrapped in some sort of plastic. Awkwardly, Cassie shouldered Morgan to push him out of the way. She wormed herself between the two and pulled out a knife from her back pocket. Carefully she tilted the sharper side of the blade up towards the ceiling and worked it under the plastic. It took a bit of leveraging and gentle 'It's okay, you're okay, its okay' to get the knife to pierce the solution. Once she had it torn enough she moved to pull a blanket off of the bed above them. Hotch helped to cover the exposed woman as Cassie cut, leaving no room for any extended embarrassment.
The woman wasn't harmed besides a few bruises on her hips and thighs. That was good enough for Cassie. Once she finished peeling back the last of what was on top, she switched positions with Hotchner and pressed a hand against the woman's cheek. There were too many sounds, too many questions, too many voices, Cassie only focused on the lady's sobs. She did her best to murmur those same former phrases over and over again.
What felt like far too long of a time later, EMTs came into the room and pushed the three aside. Hotch left the building first, his cellphone indicating his attention was needed elsewhere are the moment. Morgan got out of their way, heading down the steps to reconvene with Gideon, Elle, and Max. Cassie stayed, she stayed until they were putting the victim on a stretcher and carrying her down the steps. She helped at the transfer point, holding the right corner of the stretcher near her head. She hadn't repeated her mantras in a while, the EMTs had picked up the slack for her. Once they could begin to wheel her out, the profiler let them go.
Philly PD wanted to be the ones to make the arrest. It looked better to the news reporters already gathering outside. Cass could only hope they had enough sense to not photograph the victim as she was being taken away, but she wasn't ignorant.
"It doesn't make any sense, he was a small time creep." Max let out a breath as he spoke. Gideon blinked. "He fits your profile, the age, the background, the obsessive traits."
"Still—"
"Guys." Cass pulled a slip of paper out of the wipers of one of the rental cars. "It's.. for you," She passed it to Max.
Isn't Scott an inelegant monster. He harbors no light. He is pure evil. Balance is what produces mercy. You'll be reminded of my mercy tomorrow.
K.K.
"We didn't get him?" Everyone had started to gather now. The pause was enough to spark concern. Morgan spoke first, Gideon answered. Max was too stuck in his head, going over everything yet again. He was reliving the chase from eighteen years ago. It wasn't pretty. "He's not the one we're looking for. Form a six block perimeter, we have to have seen him."
But they hadn't. Nobody had. He had been right outside, waiting for the exact moment the police would file in like ducks after their mother. He had slipped off without anyone the wiser. The atmosphere on the way back was bleak. Everyone shared a similar sentiment of frustration. Cassie couldn't feel proud of her observations from earlier, it had only served to get off the sick freak who was orchestrating all of this. It sentenced another victim to a worse fate. The BAU's methods made her feel stagnant, like she had no more control over what was about to happen than a leaf did over the way the winds blow.
"That's got to be a first for the BAU, a killer leading us to another." Hotch commented as the made their way back to the little room they were given for mediation. "No, we all know they make the best profilers, it's how they find their own victims. It's how they think they can get away with it." The oldest would correct.
"So we're starting over. Run by it again, what do we know about the Keystone Killer?"
"He's not dead, or in jail."
"He likes playing with us, he's treating it like a game where he's controlling all of the pieces." Elle raised her head as she spoke. Then Morgan, then Reid.
"He strangled seven women in the late eighties, stopped for eighteen years, then picked it back up again. Only this time he chose to suffocate them. Ten percent of violent crimes are carried out through strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds to incapacitate a person. Hanging on for a minute longer and that person will never recover." The skinny kid's ramblings weren't bad. Cassie could admire them for what they were worth. He was smart. Probably smarter than she'd ever be. The only difference was he learned his facts through textbook, and she earned hers through practice.
"But, he suffocated his latest victim. It's actually more passive than strangulation. What Lorayne was saying earlier, he can't feel the life leave the body." Aaron reaffirmed.
"But why? Why, why, why? Why change his MO, it suggests a blitz attack, yet in the past he walks right into his victim's homes without so much as a struggle."
Cassie's face lit up, her expression almost elongating in a moment of realization. She had never finished her train of thought from before. They had been so distracted with Scott Harbin that she had just forgotten nobody else was thinking the same as she was.
"We keep talking about this as though he's doing it on purpose, but what if it's not. What if something happened that stopped him. A sole loss of confidence isn't enough for such a drastic change. He lost his confidence in his own abilities, not his means of killing. A few years ago I was on a case that involved a serial murderer, similarly to this guy's MO. Maybe a little less showy— in any case, he started to slip up when he changed. And he only changed because he had been in a supply moving accident. Lost all control of his dominate hand. Couldn't kill the way he wanted to. He found another way, but it was sloppy, witnesses were around, we caught him."
Morgan leaned against the wall where Cassie had once stood. "So it's an injury?"
"Or a stroke." Hotch looked to Reid, who shrugged his shoulders in response.
"Either one, there will have to be some sort of medical records, right?" Derek didn't really agree with Gideon. "Alright, so an accident after nineteen eighty-eight in Philidelphia, that doesn't lower our suspect pool by much at all."
"It's too many hospital records." Spencer finally answered.
"Call Garcia anyways, see what she can find." Pointing towards the exit, Gideon gestured to Morgan.
It took a few minutes for Morgan to return, he had a slanted smile. Not good, not bad. "There's a lot of records to go through. Garcia's having them sent over now."
Hotch moved towards the fax machine as it sounded off, indicating the first few pages. "Let's get started then." He'd grab a couple, pass them around, and repeat until everyone had a handful. Cassie still didn't sit with her pile, she'd let it sit off on the top of a cabinet next to her while she looked through whatever her current file was.
Morgan tossed down a few papers, a frown on his dark lips. "We're looking for a guy in his twenties, is that too early for a stroke?"
"I still think it's a possibility. We're looking for a fair amount of loss of mobility." Aaron didn't look up from his stack. Reid did however, happily explaining the statistics around strokes. Something or other, Cassie brushed it off with a laugh that sounded more from her nose than it did her mouth.
"Hm?"
Reid was staring at her now. So was Hotch and Morgan. She shook her head, biting the inner flesh of her cheek as she did so. They all went back to their own files.
Twenty-five minutes in and it felt a little hopeless. The records Garcia had given didn't narrow it down at all. Sure a few names were marked off, but then again too many to count were added. "This is taking too long. Just for a moment let's rule out strokes, what's something else that could have happened?" Cassie mimicked Morgan's earlier frustrated motion and tossed her papers down.
"A car accident would have to be filed in police records, especially if it resulted in injury, right?" Spencer tried to pick up where she was leaving off. Gideon and Max nodded.
"Back then we profiled him to have some sort of American-made sedan."
"Alright, then why don't I call Garcia back, have her cross reference sedan accidents with Philly PD records. That should narrow it down significantly with what we've established."
"It's a long shot." Ryan seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes at Morgan, a slip of a few words from Cassie halted that means of response. "It's better than nothing."
For the third time that day, Morgan would return from his little 'chat' with Garcia. Only this time he seemed a lot more proud of himself. "'Think I've got something; Walter Kern, fits our age range, military background. ROTC, Air Force, his accident happened right outside of Bromwell's address."
He passed the already printed document around. Cassie skimmed over it. He certainly looked like the type. "In his accident he lost mobility of his right side due to spinal cord and nerve damage." Veiny hands rolled up dove-white sleeves as he spoke.
Cassie watched as the invisible stick returned to the playing field. It was Hotch's turn. "He installed home alarms with, guess who, Scott Harbin."
She sought to grab it before it was taken by someone else. "That's how he could walk right in to his victim's home without issue." And as quickly as she had it, it was taken by Elle. Tapping her pencil against the paper, she'd flick it back and forth with her ring finger. "He got his major in criminology. Shows to how he was able to evade law enforcement."
And from Elle to Gideon, "Do we have an address?"
"575 Wight Street Southeast Philadelphia. Got you, you son of a bitch."
That was probably the first time Max had smiled in the day that Cass had known him. There was no time to mull over it, once again the team was up and moving. SWAT was hesitant, they had failed to catch him the first time, leniency wasn't on their side. Neither was the press.
Cass was stuck with Morgan again, Reid too, though he kept to himself in the back of the car.
"You were right."
Again she was stolen from her thoughts by the brawny driver.
"Is that shocking?"
"Well, not when you phrase it like that. I was trying to compliment you, you know."
"Oh."
"That's it?"
"No, I was trying to think of something to reference that you would understand."
"Like?"
"A philosophical quote, nothing good came to mind. That's not exactly my thing."
Reid was about to say something and Morgan had that look in his eyes through the rear view mirror, something that screamed break-check. Reid no longer had anything to say.
"What is your thing then."
"Nothing really. Oh, I guess something along the lines of I'm the Chandler to your Phoebe, though that's a bit of a stretch. I only watched a few— Nevermind."
Morgan gave a dumbfounded look, but didn't press the issue. There were bigger problems than whatever Cassie got up to in her limited free-time.
Gideon and Max took the lead on the entry of the home this time. It was almost deserved.
They knocked once.
No answer.
Twice.
No answer.
It was bordering on three when the door finally swung open. A woman in her later fourties' answered, she had short brown hair and a tired face. Makeup, jewelry, her clothes were ironed. Cassie's nose crinkled.
"This is agent Ryan with the FBI, we need to speak with your husband." The woman quickly looked away. She was sheepish, confused. She'd stutter out a response to Gideon. "He's not here."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Well, I,"
"Why don't you let us inside?"
She stuttered, again, failing to form any coherent sentence. She'd nod anyways and the team followed inside. His wife said something about volunteering at a community center. Gideon notified Hotch, to which Cassie gently pressed her fingers to his raised elbow. He looked at her, doe-like eyes squinting in confusion. She took a step back and mumbled. "Don't send everyone there. He's still intent on giving us that 'gift'." Jason looked her up and down once, then complied without saying anything in response to her.
Max had let the reason they were there slip, the murders, the seven victims.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please." She didn't take very kindly to the notion. Then again no good person would. "What you're suggesting is absurd, and,"
"—I don't think you believe that Mrs. Kern." Cassie took a step closer to the woman. She was taller than her. Height helped in most cases she had been on before.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't think you believe that your husband has nothing to do with this. You're dressed awfully nice, he likes you that way doesn't he. Modest, untouchable. Though, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that last part isn't true."
"Lorayne," Gideon warned. She should have listened, should have stopped talking. This was her first day, her first case, she had everything to lose. And yet so did an innocent girl.
"I'm guessing he has a space in the house, a room, an area, a closet, a chest youre not supposed to touch. Don't look inside of, don't even think about. If you did, Walter would get angry, wouldn't he?"
The wife took a step back. Cassie took a step forward. She looked anywhere but the agent's face. "He has a photo-room, but he only worries that I'll mess up his pictures. That's all."
"Eighteen years ago you noticed your husband fell into a depression, it seemed like it would never end. Maybe he was more irritable. You were thankful on one hand, he couldn't hit you if he wanted to. But he wasn't the same. Just a few days ago he returned back to his old self, for better and for worse."
"How do... no, what does it mean? Did he..?" Cass blew a quick puff of air out of her nose and stepped off to the side. She had said all she needed to.
"We need to see that room Mrs. Kern." She didn't miss the way Gideon followed her with a grim expression as he spoke.
SWAT was the first to clear the cellar on the left side of their home. It was cold, but well kept even from a quick glance at the stairway. Heading further into it lead to a room covered in photos, newspapers, anything relating to the case. He had a copy of the book Max had written about his experiences as an agent. He was a textbook stalker. Countless photos of past and present victims framed the steel-toned stone.
Reid flipped through a scrapbook looking binder. A collection of his killings, a story. There was a chapter missing, like he had referenced in his notes before. He wasn't finished, he had only killed Carla now because he had planned to kill her before. His accident had stopped him. It explained the extended depression. His fix wasn't just the killings, it was the perfection behind them. The consistent evasion, the methodology.
"Who's in the latest chapter then?"
"Sylvia Gooden."
Gideon stepped back into the room, he looked down at the image of the woman. "Hotch confirmed Walter left the community center an hour ago. We need Gooden's address."
Thankfully, for as much as a memorabilia fanatic he was, he included everything there was about these women. Including addresses.
The team was on the new sight as fast as possible, SWAT and Philly PD were right on their heels. It didn't take longer than a handful of seconds for them to be suited up and ready. Gideon confirmed Walter's vehicle was a block down the street. Preparations to go in were moving fast. Max raised his voice so the crowd of people could hear him.
"I want him taken in alive."
Which as fun as that sentiment was, it wasn't always a good one. They didn't have a clue what state they'd find Kern or Gooden in. Her life may come down to his. And while rotting in prison before his sentence was earned was the best possible outcome, Max needed to grapple with the fact he might not see satisfaction.
The blur of guns and combat boots breezed through the main doorway. Clearing each room was impertinent, and so was following the screams they could hear from Sylvia above. Gideon lead, followed by Morgan, Max, and Cass. Gideon trained his gun eye level before pushing open the door. There must have been eight voices, all yelling some different version of the same thing; 'Don't Move.'
Morgan detained Kern. He'd purposefully bash his side off of a full length mirror. A feasible accident excuse would work just fine. Cass made out the hand off to Max from behind her. Kern spoke of the former agent like some star crossed lover. She tried not to pay too much attention to it.
Currently calloused fingers were preoccupied in removing the plastic from Sylvia's face. She brushed her thumb against the older woman's forehead, checking to make sure the blood that was leaking was also clotting. It had already started to dry, she hadn't been hit too badly. Most likely because she had struggled too much for Kern's liking.
"Shh.. shh.. it's okay, you're okay. My name is Cassandra Lorayne, alright Miss Gooden? You're not hurt anywhere else, right?"
The blonde woman shook her head. Her body was trembling. She was sweating, her skin was clammy. It was taking her a bit longer to get the words out of her sob choked throat. Cassie didn't rush her. She'd repeat what she had done with the previous victim hours earlier. A gentle seesawing motion of her knife and the flex-cuffs were off.
"Breathe with me Miss Gooden."
She was sitting up now, her shoulders heaving with another heavy cry. Cassie moved from her kneeling position to sit beside her. She pulled the woman closer and sheltered her within her arms. "You're okay, it's over now, you're okay." And she'd repeat those words for as long as she could. As long as it took for them to feel real.
————————————
Cassie was still getting accustomed to the whole private jet thing. It felt too classy, even if half the participants aboard had already slipped off their shoes and curled up under a blanket. Sometime she'd have to find wherever that stash of linens was. Though, for now, she was preparing herself for an earful. Gideon was moving from his seat to her end of the plane. He was at least kind enough to ensure the only one listening was Elle. To which Cassie couldn't mind too much, she felt a sort of solidarity in their methods, so hopefully the other brunette wouldn't be too abrasive in the aftermath of her scolding.
"You really think he beat her?"
"What?"
She had always been told to never play poker. Which was a sad comment given she was actually great at the game, just not great at her expressions. She could hold out in situations that called for a stern, unwavering face. But right here, right now, she was too wound up to keep her feelings to herself. Crinkled features gave a pretty good indication that she was absolutely taken aback.
"I asked a question Lorayne."
"Err, honestly? No. She didn't give away all of the signs, just some. Some is enough to incite a thought, and a thought is enough to be a fear. Even if he hadn't, she had rationalized that he could. Or, would, if she crossed a certain line."
"Alright."
"Alright?"
Gideon turned to sit down, he was done with the conversation. She'd outstretch a hand to say something else, but recoiled and changed her mind.
JJ had an open seat across from her, and Cassie would find comfort in the openness that followed.
"Have any of you been told about the time that Gideon was tricked into. . ."
So, this was her new home. For lack of a better phrase. It would take some time to fit in, and more effort still. Though, Cassie was able to let go of her fear for just a moment. It was the first time that day she had stopped thinking about the past, and hoped for the future.
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Date Posted: 04/24/24
Not Yet Proofread, too lazy :(.
Next Chapter: 05/02/24
#criminal minds#bau team#spencer reid#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#elle greenaway#jj jareau#dr spencer reid#oc#original character#multifandom account#x reader#jason gideon#hannibal lecter
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Hotch and Natalie are caught up in staring each other down arms crossed over their chests this is mainly because Natalie is certain Hotch ate the last of her favourite German snack. He attempts to stand his ground.
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#romance#cute#fluff#stana katic#stubbornness#original character#Natalie#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner x oc#BAU#bau team#wholesome
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She didn't have time
Title: She didn't have time
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x original female character
Characters: Spencer, Emily, Rossi, Derek, Penelope, JJ, Aaron, Original female character.
Warnings: none, just fluff.
Summary: Aaron's bringing his new girlfriend over to dinner at Rossi's with the team, but she's anxious about meeting his coworkers and friends. Will she be able to charm them as she has him?
Author note: So I had this idea come to me while I was listening to a song. I know, I was inspired by music. So this is singlemom!original character, Alice. I wondered what that might look like, while I was listening to Terri Clark's She didn't have time. Its been a while since I've posted anything, life hasn't been kind to me, and I feel like I'm just struggling lately. I'm hoping things change, it being the new year and all, but I don't have much hope for that. I don't own anything, and I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine. Let me know what you think, and as always enjoy!
Word count: 796
I was nervous at the thought of meeting his coworkers. Aaron reassured me that they'd love me, but I couldn't help but clutch his hand in mine as we walked into the large home of his friend and co-worker David Rossi. I smiled warmly at everyone, even if they seemed surprised to see him arriving with someone.
Everyone's eyes landed on me as Aaron helped me from my coat, my pink dress a stark contrast to his black polo and jeans. Aaron had reassured me I looked fine, but the way they eyed me, I wasn't sure. He squeezed my hand and leaned down to whisper, "You look fine, Alice." I met his gaze, nodding as he dropped a soft kiss on my lips briefly as he led me over to meet them.
Aaron kept his large, warm hand on the small of my back, as he pointed to each person, who waved at me as he introduced them. "This is David Rossi and Emily Prentiss," The two waved at me, and then he said, "That's Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, and that is Spencer Reid and JJ." I waved at everyone, and as he went to speak to everyone and give David the bottle of wine we brought, the girls surrounded me.
They all seemed nice, and after a few moments, they asked about me. Emily leveled me with a look, "Alright Alice, tell us about yourself." I smiled, "Well I'm a preschool teacher." I said, as Penelope waved her hand and said, "What I want to know, is how you met and caught the eye of our famously stern unit chief."
The giggles from the rest said they wanted to know the same and I said, "Okay, well, I was shopping, my daughter was with my mama, when I met him. I had a flat tire and the parking lot was so crowded and I had no idea what I was going to do, and then he sort of appeared, like my knight in shining armor. Aaron was so nice, he got all my tools out and helped me change the tire." I said a warm smile on my lips.
JJ leaned in, "Oh, that sounds like Hotch, what happened next?" I smiled, "Well, he asked me if I wanted to go out for coffee, and I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. We were having coffee together and laughing when he asked me about my daughter. I said, she's five. He asked me if she had my eyes." I said, which made all the women let out the same collective sound, their eyes moving to Aaron where he stood talking with Derek, Spencer, and David.
"I know, it was so sweet. My daughter Ellie and Jack are around the same age, so we set them up on a playdate and they loved playing with each other. He asked me out on a real date and the rest, as they say, is history. Ellie loves Aaron. And he's so good with her." I said, softly.
I pulled my phone out and showed them photos of Aaron and Ellie that I'd snapped over the weekend. "She insisted on having a tea party and he was delighted to attend," I said, as I showed them pictures of Aaron seated in Ellie's room, surrounded by her stuffed animals, with a pink crown on her dark curls, as she gave him a cookie on a flower plate.
JJ smiled, "Oh, she looks just like you," She said, smiling down at the picture of Aaron and Ellie, who had the same honey-brown eyes and dark curls as I do. "yeah, she looks like me. But she adores Aaron and Jack. She and Jack get along so well." I said as we wandered to the dinner table to eat.
The girls brought up his tea party with Ellie and I saw Aaron's cheeks flush as they good-naturedly teased him. "Yes. I couldn't turn down her offer. She was quite persuasive." He says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. We've finished eating, and he grins at me. "She's like her mama, I can't say no to her."
The girls ooh and ahh over his comment, and on our way out, after promising to visit during the work week one day with Ellie in tow, I lean against Aaron as we walk to his car. He nudges me playfully. "What did I tell you, darling? They loved you." He says, dropping a soft kiss on my head as he opens my door.
I lean up and press a kiss to his lips. "And I love you, Aaron," I murmured, as his eyes held mine, with love and desire in his gorgeous brown eyes. "I love you too, Alice."
#aaron hotchner 💞#criminal minds#he’s so gorgeous#thomas gibson#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x original female character#aaron hotchner drabble#inspired by music#first fic of the new year#going to be writing more for aaron this year
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smiles for miles – 6. ain't like home
burn the bridges in our town till the point where we drown, as it all comes down. - Dotan, Home
S E P T E M B E R 1 7 T H 2 0 1 1
Coming back to Kansas City stirred up a storm of feelings inside me, pulling memories from the depths where they'd been hiding for so long. Walking down those streets again, it felt like a tug-of-war between wanting to be here and wishing I were anywhere else.
It had been ages since I'd been in this city, and part of me questioned if I even wanted to be back. But duty called, reminding me why I'd returned—Maile needed me, and that was reason enough.
"Alex."
The sound of my name, spoken with such gravity, cut through the air, snapping me back to reality. I turned to see my brother coming towards me, a reminder of the family ties that bind us, whether we liked it or not.
Inhaling deeply to steady my nerves, I acknowledged him with a nod, my greeting carrying a mix of composure and underlying tension. "Scott," I said, my tone carefully neutral, though hints of apprehension lingered beneath the surface.
Despite the warmth of the sun casting its golden glow over the city streets, an intangible chill seemed to permeate the air, casting a shadow over our interaction.
His question hung between us, weighted with skepticism and perhaps a touch of judgment. "What brings you back here?" he queried, his voice betraying a hint of doubt.
Meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve, I made my intentions clear. "I'm here for Maile," I asserted firmly, my words leaving no room for misinterpretation.
An incredulous scoff escaped him, accompanied by a dismissive roll of his eyes. "You're kidding, right?" he retorted, frustration lacing his voice. "I thought you were done with all of that, you finally moved on."
Though his words stung, I refused to let them shake my determination. "Maile's gone missing, Scott," I explained, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily in my tone. "I couldn't just ignore that."
His uncertainty was clear, etched in the lines of his face and the cautious tone in his voice. "I thought you and her weren't on speaking terms," he remarked, his curiosity evident.
I met his gaze squarely, my determination unwavering despite the skepticism in his eyes. "There's more to it than that," I replied, my voice steady.
His skepticism persisted as he leaned forward, pressing for more information. "How can you be so sure she's missing?" he probed further.
In response, I reached across the table, laying out the collection of poems in front of him. His brow furrowed as he examined the pages, his skepticism growing. "What's the deal with these?" he questioned, his tone tinged with suspicion.
"Poems," I stated plainly, my voice calm but resolute. Despite his doubts, I knew these verses held the key to understanding Maile's disappearance, and I was determined to make him understand their significance. "She wrote them."
He delicately lifted the first poem from the table, his fingers moving with a mix of caution and curiosity, as though each line held a hidden message waiting to be deciphered. With furrowed brows, he scanned the verses, his gaze lingering on certain words, perhaps searching for clues that eluded even the most discerning eye.
After a moment, he set the first poem down and reached for the second, his demeanor shifting to one of deeper concentration. His eyes darted across the page, absorbing each word with intent scrutiny, as if trying to unravel the secrets woven within the lines. Finally, with a thoughtful exhale, he placed the second poem beside the first, his expression a blend of contemplation and skepticism.
Turning his attention back to me, he voiced his doubts, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "What makes you so certain she wrote these?" he questioned, his skepticism challenging the notion that these poems were Maile's handiwork.
I felt a pang of frustration at my inability to provide concrete evidence, my conviction resting solely on intuition and the haunting familiarity of Maile's writing style. How could I convey the depth of my certainty when I lacked tangible proof?
Sensing my inner turmoil, Hotch interjected with a calm authority, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Let me point something out," he began, his tone measured yet authoritative. "In the first poem, the word 'Smiles' is capitalized and circled in what we believe to be her blood. And as you might know, your sister used to call her-"
My brother's expression softened slightly as Hotch's words sank in, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. "Smiles," he echoed, the word carrying a weight of memories and shared experiences. Yet, despite this moment of recognition, skepticism still lingered as he voiced his doubts. "You know, Alex, this is a stretch to say the least. We need more than just circumstantial evidence to make such claims."
With determination in my voice, I faced him squarely, my patience wearing thin like an old rug. "You don't need to help us, Scott," I shot back, frustration seeping into my tone. "We've been given a place on your turf. If you want to join our investigation, feel free to do so. If you don't, stay the hell out of my way."
Turning sharply on my heel, I exited the room, leaving behind a lingering cloud of tension thicker than molasses. Despite my departure, the echo of conversation between my brother and my team members still reached my ears.
Morgan's words hung in the air like a gentle breeze, a reminder of the seriousness of the situation. "This means a great deal to her," his voice carried, tinged with concern. "You might want to take it seriously."
But my brother's response sliced through the atmosphere like a sharp knife, his tone rigid and unwavering. "I can't," he snapped back tersely. "I can't take anything seriously that has to do with that Crane girl. Alex's always been crazy about that girl, something I never understood. That girl is insane, and makes Alex look like a pedophile. I... Alex can't think straight when it comes to that girl."
As his words sank into my thoughts, a mix of frustration and disbelief bubbled up within me. How could he casually dismiss the seriousness of our situation, shrugging off the urgency of our investigation like it was nothing? But it was clear that changing his mind wouldn't be easy.
"Is it really that hard to ease her mind?" Hotch's question hung in the air like a heavy fog, casting a palpable tension over the room as everyone waited for my brother's response. When he stayed quiet, Hotch pushed forward, his voice steady but firm.
"If you don't trust Blake," Hotch started, his words deliberate, "that's okay. But then help us by proving that Maile Crane has nothing to do with this. We need to know everything about her. And everything about her connection with your sister."
As I observed him from behind the partially open blinds of the office, I could sense the weight of his frustration in the way his hands grasped at his hair. His voice, tinged with a mix of nostalgia and unease, filled the room as he began to recount memories from our past.
"We used to live right across from the Crane family," he started, his voice taking on a reflective tone. "There was Everett Crane, Josephine, and Maile. They were always a bit peculiar." His words hung in the air, carrying a mix of uncertainty and intrigue.
"He was a friendly guy, everyone in the neighborhood loved him," he continued, a hint of fondness creeping into his voice. "Josephine kept to herself mostly, didn't socialize much. Alex, though, she really took a shine to her. I think Alex was probably the only person Josephine ever really talked to around here."
Listening to his memories, I couldn't help but reflect on my own experiences with our former neighbors. Josephine held a special place in my heart; she was like a second mother to me. Despite the description, I remembered her as gentle and nurturing, always there with a kind word or a story to share. She had taught me how to read, passing on a gift that I later shared with her daughter, Maile.
As he delved further into his memories, each word seemed to stir up a whirlwind of emotions inside me. His voice, lacking any emotion, cut through the air, yet his words sparked a fiery anger within me.
"I guess I never really got to know her," he continued, his tone distant. "But she... she was always just wandering around, observing everything. And whenever someone tried to talk to her, she'd bolt and run away." His words painted a picture of Maile, but it clashed with the lively, spirited girl I remembered.
"Nobody really got close to her, except for Alex," he added. At the mention of my name, a flood of memories rushed back—times spent with Maile, secrets shared under the moonlight.
"My sister was crazy about that girl, more than she was about her own family," he admitted, bitterness dripping from his words. "She'd make decisions, big ones, based on what would be good for Maile." His revelation filled the room, highlighting the sacrifices made for love.
"People in the neighborhood thought she was obsessed with that girl. They wondered if she'd had a 'thing' for Maile," he continued, his tone heavy with resentment. "They started to keep a distance. It really put a strain on our family." The weight of his confession lingered, casting a shadow over our past.
Leaving the building, weighed down by my brother's revelations, I sought refuge in the calmness of the precinct's benches outside. The breeze offered a soothing touch against my skin, a brief respite from the storm raging within.
Soon, my team joined me, their presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. Morgan's question broke the silence, delving straight to the heart of the matter.
"Did Maile always have to watch out for people?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
I nodded, memories of the Crane household flooding back vividly. "Yeah, he beat that into her. Same with Josephine," I confessed, the gravity of my words hanging in the air. "They lived in constant fear of everyone."
Anxiety gripped me tightly as I spoke, a sense of urgency pushing my words forward. "I want to make something clear. I wasn't in love with Maile. I loved- still love her, but I promise..."
Hotch's hand gently rested on my shoulder, offering a momentary sense of reassurance. His eyes conveyed understanding as he spoke softly. "We know, Blake," he reassured me, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of my turmoil. "But we also recognize that circumstances change."
I turned to him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. "What do you mean?" I inquired, my voice tinged with uncertainty and a hint of fear.
His expression softened, a mixture of sympathy and resolve evident in his gaze. "What I mean is, Maile holds a special place in your heart," he explained gently but firmly. "No matter how much time passes or how hard you try to deny it, she's deeply ingrained in your soul. The way you talk about her, the way you care for her—you have given her your heart and you're not gonna get it back. Blake. And that's something you can't change. She is the love of your life."
His words struck a chord deep inside me, reminding me of something I had tried to ignore. Thinking back on my life, I couldn't deny the strong feelings I always had for Maile. No matter what, she was the most important person to me.
I tried to find happiness with other people, getting into relationships and even getting married. But nothing compared to what I felt for Maile. Even when she wasn't around, I couldn't forget about her. She was always on my mind, guiding me like a bright light in the dark.
In my life story, Maile was like the string that held everything together. Even though I tried to move on, she was always there, shaping my decisions and influencing my path.
With a heavy heart, I accepted the undeniable truth: Maile was more than just a friend; she was the love of my life, the one who held the key to my heart, even when she was absent from it.
"So where are we going next?" Morgan asked.
Raising my gaze to meet Morgan's inquisitive eyes, I felt a surge of determination coursing through me, mingling with the memories that flooded my mind. "We're going to 'the house across the street'."
#alex blake#criminal minds#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau#david rossi#derek morgan#bau team#criminal minds fandom#bau#dr alex blake#fxf#ssa blake#ssa hotchner#ssa reid#dr reid#ssa morgan#ssa rossi#ssa jareau#original character#alex blake x female character#alex blake x original character#alex blake x original female character#alex blake x fem!character#wlw#fic#fluff#angst
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Our Minds Entwined------------------------
ch 1, ch 2
Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid
in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member
Chapter One:
The bar was abuzz with the kind of infectious energy that only comes from a group of friends riding the high of a celebratory night out. In the center of it all was Evelyn Gideon, her laughter a melody that seemed to turn heads and draw smiles even from strangers. She was the embodiment of sunshine—her allure as undeniable as the curves she carried with effortless grace.
Evelyn raised her glass, her eyes sparkling with excitement and liquor. "To new beginnings and breaking ceilings," she toasted, her voice carrying over the crowded room.
Her friends echoed the sentiment, "To Evelyn, the FBI's newest and brightest!"
As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed easily, touching on memories, aspirations, and the occasional playful banter about the 'aesthetically pleasing' aspects of her new job.
Evelyn leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "You know, I've had my fair share of late-night googling and let's just say the FBI isn't all work and no play. They've got some serious eye candy too."
Her friends giggled, urging her on, and she obliged, a little tipsy from the copious amounts of wine. "There's this one agent, my boss, Aaron Hotchner. Oh, and another, Spencer Reid. They're like the real-life versions of those FBI recruitment posters. So hot, it's criminal."
The group erupted into laughter, unaware that just a few tables away, two men had paused their conversation, a knowing look exchanged between them. They said nothing, just an awkward cough as they went back to their drinks.
Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before averting his gaze.
Aaron's expression was unreadable as he scoffed, "Interns."
The laughter from Evelyn's table continued to ripple through the bar, a stark contrast to the muted tones of conversation at the agents' table. Spencer's eyes flickered back to his drink, the ice clinking softly as he swirled the glass, a thoughtful expression on his face. Aaron, meanwhile, maintained his stoic facade, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.
Evelyn, buoyed by the warmth of the wine and her company, leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting across the room. She caught Spencer's eye again, realization drawing on her face, and this time he held her gaze, an unspoken challenge passing between them.
One of her friends nudged her, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "He's cute."
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with the implications. "I think that's my new boss and colleague."
Evelyn, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and her earlier comments, caught the agents' glance and felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over her. She fumbled with her purse, her laughter trailing off into a nervous giggle.
"Uh, I just remembered, I have an early meeting tomorrow, and I should really get going," Evelyn stammered, avoiding eye contact with the table of agents. Her friends, sensing her discomfort, offered her quick hugs and understanding nods as she made her hasty retreat.
As Evelyn vanished into the crowd, Aaron and Spencer's attention was momentarily captured by the bar's TV, where a breaking news segment flashed across the screen. They leaned in, their focus on a case they'd been following, the world around them fading into the background.
When they finally turned back, expecting to find the lively group still immersed in their celebration, they were met with the sight of an empty chair where Evelyn had been. A twinge of disappointment flickered across their faces, though neither would admit it aloud.
Spencer cleared his throat, "Well, interns are always full of surprises," he remarked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Aaron nodded, his gaze lingering on the now quieter table. "Indeed. But let's not forget, we were all there once," he said, raising a glass in a silent salute to their beginning memories.
"Statistically speaking," Spencer began, his voice barely above the murmur of the bar, "the chances of us overhearing a conversation about ourselves in such a setting are quite slim."
Hotch couldn't help but chuckle at Spencer's comment. "And yet here we are," he added, the hint of a smirk betraying his amusement.
—
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Evelyn's sleep softened face as she awoke to the chirping of birds and the distant hum of the city. She lay in bed for a moment, her mind a whirlwind of memories from the night before. The laughter, the wine, the unexpected encounter with Dr. Reid and Hotchner.
She was Jason Gideon's daughter, a fact that filled her with pride yet weighed heavily on her. At 23, she was young to be joining the FBI, especially the BAU, and she felt the pressure to prove herself as more than just a legacy hire.
Evelyn sat up, pushing back the covers as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Today was the day. Her first day at the BAU. A mix of excitement and nerves bubbled within her, but there was something else too—a hint of mortification. She couldn't shake the memory of calling her new boss and coworker hot within earshot. She hoped against hope that they hadn't overheard.
With a deep breath she rose and made her way to the mirror. She took pride in her appearance, and today was no exception. She chose her outfit with care, professional yet undeniably her.
As she applied her makeup, each brush was an attempt to paint away the embarrassment of last night. She styled her hair, letting it fall into soft waves around her shoulders. We one last glance in the mirror, she was ready.
Evelyn grabbed her gun and badge, the weight of them both a reminder of the responsibility she was about to undertake. She was a member of the FBI now, and she had a role to play.
—
Evelyn's heels clicked against the polished floors of the FBI building, a steady rhythm that matched her racing heart. She drew a deep breath, letting her bubbly personality shine through her nervous smile as she passed through the security checkpoint. She didn't spot Hotch or Dr. Reid, a small mercy that allowed her to collect herself without the weight of their gazes.
The first day formalities were a blur—ID photos, paperwork, and the endless maze of hallways. It was all so technical and impersonal, yet it was the gateway to her dream.
Then, a beacon of light, she spotted Penelope Garcia. They had connected over an online forum for crime fiction enthusiasts, bonding over plot theories and character developments. Garcia's vibrant attire and smile were just as welcoming in person.
"Penelope!" Evelyn greeted, her voice a mix of relief and excitement.
"Evelyn! Honey, you're even more stunning in person!" Garcia beamed, pulling her into a hug. "Welcome to the BAU family!"
As they chatted, Garcia led her to the bullpen, where Evelyn was introduced to the team. Emily Prentiss's firm handshake and measured smile spoke of strength and understanding. JJ's friendly nod and Derek Morgan's charming grin were disarming, making Evelyn's nerves ease slightly.
"So you're the prodigy Gideon was always bragging about," Morgan teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
Evelyn laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I hope to live up to at least half the hype," she replied, her tone playful yet sincere.
Prentiss leaned in, her voice low but encouraging. "We've all heard great things about you, Evelyn. We're glad to have you on board."
"And we'll make sure you find your footing," JJ added, her smile reassuring.
The warmth of the welcome eased the knots in her stomach. She was a part of the team, surrounded by legends, and yet, they made her feel like she was one of them—bright, capable.
"Gideon."
The newfound calm in Evelyn's stomach vanished as swiftly as it had arrived when she heard her last name echo across the bullpen. The authoritative tone of Aaron Hotchner snapped the easy atmosphere like a taut wire. She turned, her heart hitching as she met his gaze. For a fleeting moment, she saw the mask of his composure slip, a flicker of surprise that quickly schooled into neutrality. "A word, please?"
Derek couldn't resist the opportunity for a quip. "Don't keep the man waiting, he's not known for his patience," he said, eliciting a round of chuckles from the team.
Evelyn's heart pounded as she approached Hotchner's office, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts seeming to rest on one—he was going to confront me about what I said. She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
Hotchner's office was a stark contrast to the lively bullpen, its walls lined with commendations and case files. He gestured to a chair.
"Good morning, Evelyn," Hotchner began as he motioned her into his office. "Please, have a seat."
She moved past him, her senses heightened, astutely aware of the shift in his demeanor. As she settled into the chair, she caught him glancing at a file on his desk, his eyes momentarily distracted.
"I didn't expect you to be so..." he started, his gaze lifting to meet hers.
"Young?" Evelyn filled in, her voice a mix of confidence and self-deprecation, butterflies filling her stomach. "I get that a lot, but I assure you it won't affect my performance, sir."
In his mind, Hotchner corrected himself, Attractive, but he let the thought pass unspoken of course, cursing himself for even thinking it. "Of course," he said aloud. "Your age isn't a concern. Your qualifications speak for themselves."
He leaned back, interlacing his fingers as he regarded her. "As a new member of the BAU you'll be expected to undergo a period of observation. You'll accompany the team on cases, but your involvement will be limited until you've completed your training."
Evelyn nodded, absorbing every word.
"You'll be assigned a mentor," Hotch continued. "Dr. Reid will take on that role. He'll guide you through our protocols and procedures."
"I'm ready to learn and contribute, sir." Evelyn responded earnestly.
He had been called "sir" by many, but when the word left Evelyn's lips, it was as if he heard it for the first time. He caught himself staring at the lips at which the words came from, snapping his focus back to her eyes.
Hotchner's expression softened ever so slightly. "I believe you are. And remember, this team is a family. We rely on each other's strengths to face what most can't even imagine."
With a final nod, he stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Welcome to the BAU, Agent."
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#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x original character#spencer reid smut#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x original character#aaron hotchner x reader x spencer reid#aaron hotchner x original character x spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#fbi#Spotify
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The Darkest Hour Before Dawn | Ch.2
Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC! Althea Devereaux
A/N: Reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy <3
Word Count: 3.6k
Chapter Song: Paranoia by Liza Anne (Spotify Playlist Link)
Series Masterlist
AO3 | Wattpad
"Nicholas Darcy has been missing for 19 hours now and it is vital that we locate him in the first 24," Agent Gideon stood in front of the room filled with members of local law enforcement as the BAU team delivered the profile.
"The unknown subject appears to be a methodical and organized individual who carefully selects his victims. His victimology suggests a preference for distinguished children, potentially those who have been given recognition for some task recently. He also demonstrates a high level of control during abductions, leaving little to no evidence behind and striking during times when he knows there won't be many people around," Agent Hotchner added.
"He is likely a white male, between the ages of 30 and 45. He drives a black van, and uses a ruse of some sort to lure his victims and gain their trust. He may ask them for their assistance and that's how he gets them in the van. He possesses above-average intelligence, as evidenced by his calculated methods and ability to avoid detection thus far. He has a menial job or he may be unemployed, allowing him plenty of time to observe the victims' routines and figure out when to strike when they're most vulnerable," Morgan outlined more key aspects of the profile.
Althea straightened from where she was slouching in the back of the room, trying her best to keep her eyes open. Most of the profile was similar to what she and Rebecca had predicted. The age of the unsub, his work habits, and his psychological motivations, but the mention of the van jolted her awake.
"Wait black van? You've identified his vehicle?" Rebecca blurted, shocked as well.
"Yes, Agent Fittes. We have a witness that places it on the crime scene around the time of Nicholas's abduction," Agent Hotchner's voice was firm.
Once his attention had returned to the profile, Rebecca looked at Althea with wide eyes.
"Has the van made an appearance at the other abduction sites?" Althea asked.
"Well, we did revisit some of the other witnesses in your files, and asked them if they recalled a black van," Elle nodded at her.
"And did they?"
"A few of them. A couple walking their dog near where Alicia Ramirez was taken, said they saw a dark vehicle of some sort. It was growing dark so it was hard to see properly but a few other's recalled similar things."
"I see."
"This is not his first abduction and we know that experienced predators don't hunt close to home so he may not live or keep his victims in the same vicinity as the locations of the abductions," Elle continued.
Agent Hotchner jumped back in, "He may have had a recent stressor, a loss of a job or a loved one, and this would have happened around the time of the first abduction. He is a socially marginalized individual who relates better to kids than adults and he may have a history of criminal behaviour."
One member of the audience, an Officer Siggins, raised his hand, "Would this type of perpetrator have come into contact with us? Don't they like to involve themselves with the investigation, find out what we know?"
Spencer shook his head, "No, not him. He will not inject himself into the investigation. He has not contacted law enforcement during any of his past abductions and he will not do so this time either."
"Yes, he has tried his best to ensure he had no witnesses, based on the timings of the abductions, but he doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He doesn't know about our witnesses. But he will be watching the news and if he feels like we're closing in on him, he might kill Nicholas to avoid detection," Morgan clarified.
Another member of the audience raised a question, "Since the bodies of the previous children have not been found yet, do you think there's any possibility that they're still alive?'
The entire room went silent for the next few moments, the grim reality of the case apparent on everyone's faces.
"Our main focus right now is finding Nicholas," Agent Gideon managed solemnly.
"And have you figured out the significance of the black balloons found at each abduction site?"
"It's part of his signature and ruse. He likely uses them to attract the children," Morgan answered.
"It's crucial to focus on identifying any individuals who exhibit behaviours or traits that align with the profile, paying close attention to those with access to or a history of interacting with the targeted demographic. We will continue canvassing relevant neighbourhoods and all parents have been warned to keep their children under constant supervision until this unsub is apprehended," Agent Hotchner concluded. "Good luck."
As the BAU team finished delivering their profile, the room slowly cleared out, everyone rushing to continue the investigation, leaving Althea feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion. She couldn't help but yawn as she looked around the room, taking in the empty chairs and scattered papers. The tension that had filled the air during the briefing seemed to dissipate, replaced by an eerie calmness.
Just as she was gathering her belongings and leaving the room, a knock echoed through the doorway. Startled, she turned her attention to the entrance, where a delivery boy stood holding a small package.
"Package for Agent Althea Devereaux," the young man announced.
Althea's brows furrowed in confusion as she approached him.
"That's me," she confirmed.
The delivery boy handed over the package, a small rectangular box wrapped in brown paper. Althea carefully took it, studying the handwritten label with her name on it. There was no return address on it and it was quite a hefty thing for something that small. She frowned. She wasn't expecting any packages.
"Thanks," she murmured. "Do you know who it's from?"
The delivery boy shrugged, "No idea. It just showed up in the mailroom with the rest of the mail."
Althea nodded, intrigue and caution swirling within her. She thanked the delivery boy once more, watching him leave the room before turning her attention back to the mysterious package. She hefted her files in one hand before carrying the package back to the conference room that she had set up, looking for something to open it with. After some hunting around, she spotted a pair of scissors which she used to slice through the several layers of clear tape that bound the package. The flaps fell away, revealing a white box. Althea eyed it suspiciously. Anonymous mail was a dangerous thing, especially one sent to a federal agent. She held it up to her ear and shook it, hearing several objects roll around inside with a dull thud.
Well, at least it wasn't anthrax.
She lifted the lid and immediately inhaled sharply, coughing right after as her senses were assaulted by the sickening scent of decay. The odour of death and decomposition clouded the air as Althea's lip curled in horror at the grotesque nature of the contents. Eight severed fingers lay in the box. Their stature was small, their owners unmistakably young. Despite her earlier shaking, they lay neatly in a row, each bearing the unmistakable signs of violence and separation from their owners. Discoloration had set in, the skin mottled with shades of sickly pallor and bruised hues. They all appeared to be in different stages of decay. Some showed signs of recent amputation, the flesh still retaining a touch of moisture and elasticity, while others had undergone a more advanced decomposition, their skin sagging and discoloured.
There was a note as well, written on lined paper in a messy scrawl.
Hurry up!
Her eyes widened as she read the words, each letter carrying an unnerving weight
"Everything alright Agent Devereaux, you look a little spooked?" Morgan's voice echoed in her ears as she blinked rapidly to refocus.
Althea waved the note in the air with a grimace, "What's that you said about the unsub not involving himself with the investigation?"
"Did he contact the tip line?"
"Nope, looks like he's decided to get real up close and personal this time."
"What's in the box?" Agent Hotchner had entered too, along with the rest of the team.
Althea's voice wavered as she managed to speak, her eyes fixed on the severed fingers, "It's... uh... fingers of the missing children I think. Eight fingers... one for each child."
Elle gasped, a mix of horror and disbelief etched on her face and Morgan's eyes hardened, anger seeping into his voice.
"This sicko is toying with us," he muttered furiously.
"The unsub is sending us a message. He wants us to know that he has the power," Spencer chimed in.
"The package was addressed to me," Althea mumbled. "It has my name on it."
Agent Hotchner raised an eyebrow, "The message is intended for you then. Go back and look through your canvass records. It is almost certain that you were the one who came into contact with him during your initial investigations."
"Yes, sir."
"May I?" Spencer reached for the box in Althea's hand and she wordlessly handed it to him. "We should send this in for DNA. See, the unsub has meticulously cleaned under each fingernail but there still might be some sort of evidence he left behind."
He grabbed a tissue and carefully lifted one of the fingers, showing it to the room.
"Look at how the nail on this one is partially ripped out," he pointed out.
"I'd rather not?" Althea shuddered.
Elle hummed thoughtfully, "Couldn't that just have fallen off because of the decay?"
"It is unlikely. It is a sign of a struggle. The rest of the appendages also have similar defensive wounds. Their presence indicates that the fingers were amputated post-mortem."
Sure enough, the bruises and abrasions hinted at a struggle, the remnants of a desperate attempt to cling to life. Althea felt sick.
"I'll send them out and see what we get."
"Althea, Mrs. Darcy is here to see you," Rebecca popped her head in at the door, her gaze curious as she watched everyone's grim expressions.
"Mrs. Darcy? The missing kid's mother, we just spoke to her this morning. Are you going to tell her about..." Morgan gestured to the macabre contents of the box.
Agent Hotchner shook his head immediately, "Absolutely not."
"Tell her about what?" Rebecca interjected.
"No, of course not, sir. And besides, Nicholas's finger isn't in the box so perhaps we might hope that he is still alive," Althea responded quickly.
"Well, we actually don't know who any of the fingers belong to yet. One of them could very well be Nicholas's," Spencer interrupted and Althea stifled the urge to scowl at him, reminding herself that he was only speaking the truth. She just didn't want it to be the truth.
"What does the note say?" Elle asked.
Althea's lips twisted as she handed it to her, "He said to hurry up. Why would he say that unless Nicholas is alive...and we're running out of time to save him. He's taunting us."
Elle nodded, "I don't get why he's taunting you specifically though. What was he thinking, addressing it to you? Does this unsub want to get caught?"
"Or maybe he thinks he won't with the amount of information he has given us," Agent Gideon wondered aloud. "This new development suggests that the unsub is showing signs of narcissistic behaviour."
Spencer gave the box back to Althea, which she then handed off to Rebecca after it had been passed around to the other team members for a closer look.
"Could you give this to the M.E, please? Say it's urgent."
"This is..." Rebecca paled as she followed Althea down to the main lobby. "Don't tell me..."
Althea's shoulders slumped, "Two years of working this job and you'd think it'd get any easier, but nope. Every time, despite all the statistics and facts, you think there is a chance. That we'll find them alive. That the world isn't as cruel as it appears to be. Then a bastard like this proves you wrong and there is nothing you can do about it."
"No more grim thoughts, love. We'll find him, count on it. And blaming yourself isn't going to change anything. You did the best you could."
"But I could have done more. We should've called the BAU in earlier. Agent Hotchner was right. It shouldn't have taken us 9 kids, when it was clear that we weren't making any progress with the first few abductions!"
"Maybe. But there's no reason for you to beat yourself up over it. That was Agent Reynolds's call to make and there was nothing you could have done about it."
Althea pressed her fingers to her temple where she could feel a headache building, "Yeah, but I could've tried harder to convince him."
"You're the one who convinced him this time. Let it go Althea and focus."
Rebecca pointed toward a frazzled-looking woman, who was pacing the lobby anxiously, her face etched with worry and desperation. Althea nodded to her friend in farewell and hurried toward Nicholas's mother, heart aching for her, knowing that every passing moment without answers only intensified her anguish. Mrs. Darcy's hands trembled as she clutched several tissues, her tear-stained eyes scanning the room with a mixture of hope and frustration.
Gently, Althea approached the distraught woman, her voice filled with empathy, "Mrs. Darcy, I'm Agent Althea Devereaux. You were asking for me."
Mrs. Darcy clutched at Althea's hands fervently, "You. Yes, you. You're leading the investigation, aren't you? You were investigating the previous kidnappings too?"
"Yes, please rest assured that our entire team is doing our absolute best to find your son. I understand how difficult this must be for you."
"Please, Agent, you have to find my son. He's just a little boy. I can't bear not knowing where he is or if he's safe," the woman's voice cracked as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Althea nodded, her voice resolute, "I promise you, we're doing everything we can to find him. We won't rest until we know what happened to him."
"If you're really doing everything, then why haven't you found him yet?" her voice rose shrilly. "And what about the other kids? Why weren't you able to find them."
"I understand your concerns, but we have another team working with us this time and they are very skilled at dealing with cases like this. With their help, I am certain we will be able to give you some concrete answers."
"But... but what if it's too late? What if he's... gone?" her hand tightened in Althea's as she hiccuped, her sobs growing more hysterical.
Althea guided Mrs. Anderson to a nearby seating area, offering her a glass of water to help calm her nerves, "Please have hope, and know that we're here for you every step of the way."
"You...you'll find him, won't you? Promise me that you'll find him. He's all I have. Please, please, please."
"I promise that we'll do everything we possibly can."
As they sat together, Althea made inquiries and listened intently, gathering any additional details that could aid in the search for Nicholas. She assured Mrs. Darcy that every lead would be pursued diligently, every avenue explored in their tireless pursuit of answers.
"He's a good boy. He knows not to talk to strangers. I cannot imagine who he would speak to or go with on his way home," his mother explained tearfully.
"I understand, but if there is anyone you can think of who fits the profile I've just given you, who Nicholas may trust enough to go off with. A family member, a teacher, an instructor, anyone?"
"No. Not like this. He's supposed to call me if he gets a ride with someone else. He was walking home yesterday. He even called me to say that he was almost home. Who would take my baby?"
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, and thank you for being brave enough to answer our questions. Can I get you anything else, a drink or something?"
Mrs. Darcy shook her head balefully, "Just find my boy. Please, please find my boy for me."
Suddenly, Rebecca rushed in, breathless. Her eyes flickered to the desolate mother and she beckoned Althea with a jerk of her head.
"Agent Devereaux, there's a message on the tipline. You're needed upstairs."
Mrs. Darcy's eyes widened, "Have they found him? Have they found my son? Oh, tell me he's alive!"
"We're doing our best Ma'am, but for now it's just a lead," Rebecca responded.
Althea squeezed Mrs. Darcy's hand reassuringly one last time before following Rebecca back to the BAU.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"So the profile said that the unsub wouldn't involve himself with the investigation right?"
"Right?"
"And he hasn't so far..."
"With the exception of the fingers? Rebecca, I'm not sure I follow..."
"Let's just forget about the fingers for a second," Rebecca's lip curled with revulsion at the horrific act.
"I'm not sure we should be ignoring them, they seem pretty vital."
"No see, so after they released the profile to the press, we received a call, a David Grimes from one of the neighbourhoods we've already canvassed. He says he has a neighbour who fits the description."
"He does?"
"Yep, creepy black van and all. And what's more, I checked against our canvass records and said neighbour didn't answer the door when we first visited that street."
"Huh? Interesting, I assume we're going to go speak to this caller and his neighbour then?"
"Agents Greenaway and Morgan are there right now, we're to join them immediately."
The atmosphere was thick with tension when they arrived, everyone wearing identical frowns.
"Apologies if we caused any delay Agents," Rebecca mumbled.
Elle shot her a reassuring look, "Not to worry Agent Fittes, we only just got here ourselves."
"So...uh what's the matter?"
"We knocked on the door and no one's answering," Morgan grumbled.
"Mr. Grimes, the tipline caller, lives on the other end of the street, and he says that the unsub should definitely be home. His car's in the driveway too," Elle added.
"His car...the black van?" Althea questioned.
Elle nodded.
Althea frowned, "Do we have a name for the possible unsub?"
"His house is registered under Albert Simons," Morgan replied.
"Break down the door," Agent Gideon declared.
Rebecca gaped at him, "We...we don't have probable cause, sir. We'd need a warrant."
"He fits the profile," Morgan pointed out. "He's got the car, he recently lost his job, which could be the stressor, and it allows him plenty of free time. He frequented parks and he's avoiding law enforcement."
"None of that is evidence though."
"It is a witness testimony, Agent Fittes. Are you willing to sacrifice the kid's life for this?" Agent Gideon snapped.
"But, sir..."
"The longer we stand around her and wait, the longer he has to get rid of Nicholas and any other evidence."
Rebecca sighed and pulled out her phone, "I'll call a judge. The evidence won't be admissible if we go in without a warrant."
"What else are we supposed to do, Agent Fittes, we don't have much choice here," Agent Hotchner tapped his foot impatiently.
Althea's eyes wandered down the street where she spotted a balding middle-aged man on the opposite end, leaning against his fence, watching them with keen interest. No one else seemed to notice him, everyone too busy debating on the best way to apprehend the unsub, Albert Simons.
She nudged Spencer who had been standing there silently the whole time, "Hey, is that our caller, Mr. Grimes?"
Spencer looked at her, startled, "Yeah...why?"
Althea shook her head, "I think I'm going to go speak to him. Figure out if there's anything else he can tell us."
"Sure...uh...do you need me to go with you, Agent Devereaux?"
"Nah, you're probably needed here, Dr. Reid. And besides, I think I can handle questioning one guy," Althea patted the holstered gun at her waist. "Just let Rebecca—Agent Fittes, know when she's done with her phone call. And anyone else, in case they wonder where I've gone. Shouldn't take too long though."
Althea made her way toward David Grimes's house, jogging slightly to cover the distance faster. When he saw her coming, he moved toward the back of the house, slipping down one of the side lanes that presumably led to his backyard. Althea followed him, her footsteps slow and careful.
"Sir, I'm Agent Althea Devereaux from the FBI. I was wondering if you'd have a minute to answer a few questions," she called out.
"The FBI was already here to ask questions," a man's voice grumbled back.
"Right, I apologize for the inconvenience sir, but it'd really helpful."
"You said you were Agent Devereaux weren't you."
"Yes."
"Alright then, I'm back here, you can come on around. I won't have your questions interrupt my yard work."
Althea frowned. He didn't seem to be this busy moments ago when he was watching them from afar like a hawk. She threw a look down the street toward the others. Rebecca was arguing with someone on the phone and the BAU team was chasing Agent Gideon down the driveway as he ran toward Albert Simons's home. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, a primal warning that sent a shiver down her spine. Something was amiss, but she couldn't afford to hesitate, not when a child's life was at stake and she had already failed so many others. With one hand hovering over her gun, she stepped into the backyard, the main street disappearing from view as she did so, hidden by shrubbery and vegetation.
"Mr. Grimes," she called out again, but there was no response.
Her gaze darted around, scanning the area for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Althea's pulse quickened, a gnawing sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach.
Suddenly, a sharp impact struck the back of her head, causing her to stumble forward. Pain seared through her skull, and then everything went black.
Taglist: @haee-elia
#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid#Criminal Minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds angst#dr spencer reid#Matthew Gray Gubler#criminal minds oneshot#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#Penelope Garcia#elle greenaway#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x original female character#spencer reid x y/n#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss#hotchniss#jason gideon#criminal minds fluff
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aaron hotchner x zira williams (black!fem!oc!) in the moon river collection🌙
tagging: @laurensprentiss, @sadgirlml, @angelfxllcm, @honeybrowne, @jaspxr, @hotchs-bitch, @chelseyjoyce, @rousethemouse, @lostinthefandoms11, @fightingdragonswithwho, @ashhotchner, @hotch-girl (just cuz i know you loved them)
#perhaps im in my kind of active era#zira x aaron#ziraaron#zira & aaron#black!fem!oc x aaron hotchner#black female original character x aaron hotchner#black female original character#aaron hotchner moodboard#aaron hotchner visuals#moon river series
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I made this little photo montage of my OC's life. I will update, somewhat, soon with the details but I wanted to give you a preview of what it will be about.
For the photo credits, I am sorry but I don't know all of the authors, they are from Pinterest. The music is from YouTube and is free for creative use. Basically, my only part in this is finding the photos and music, putting it together and publishing it. In that idea, I encourage you to put your own story on it if you'd like. I will post an updated version of it with text like I see on social media.
#original character#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#ssa aaron hotchner#bau is a family#bau team#bau#female original character
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REVELATIONS - A CRIMINAL MINDS SERIES
Summary: Leila Kade is a skilled FBI profiler, respected by her colleagues and committed to protecting the innocent from the darkest elements of society. But as she navigates the complexities of her cases, Leila must confront buried emotions and past traumas that threaten to derail her personal and professional life.
Pairing: BAU!Fem!OC x Male!OC , EVENTUAL Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!OC (Like much later)
Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. All the usual Criminal Minds stuff. And there is NO CHEATING.
Note 1: I imagine Leila Kade as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don’t see her as South Asian, then that’s fine. It won’t affect the storyline. I also imagine the OC!Male as South Asian, but again, it won’t affect the storyline.
Note 2: The team will consist of the main cast (Emily, Derek, JJ, Spencer, Penelope, Aaron, and Rossi) but will also include Elle Greenaway and Jason Gideon because they were some of my favorite characters and I wanted to include them with the rest of the team. Basically, Elle and Gideon never leave when Emily and Rossi join.
Note 3: There will be multiple time skips throughout this series. For example, the first chapter will begin on the first season and episode of the show but then there will be a time skip to later episodes (because there are obviously way too many episodes to write this series on and I wanted to include specific episodes that would help the plot of this story). This means that this series will be a slow burn romance (no cheating is involved) but I believe it to be better this way. This will also stray from the actual show a lot, so don’t expect it to follow the plot precisely.
•• Season One
•• Season Two (COMING SOON)
•• Season Three
•• Season Four
•• Season Five
•• Season Six
•• Season Seven
#revelations series#angst#fluff#one shot#fanfiction#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds#original female character#original male character#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x original female character#criminal minds series#criminal minds bau#bau!reader#aaron hotchner x bau!reader
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The Ressurection of Love: Chapter Four (Spencer Reid x Original Female Character)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Original Female Character
Themes: Mention of therapy! Mention of trauma but not much
Warnings: Alcohol is consumed. Apart from that no other warnings
A/N: Hey, so this chapters a longer one, but my creative juices are finally flowing properly so that a good thing really. please leave a comment if you enjoy and remember i do post this fic on AO3 too if you prefer that format! it's all under the same name on there! Enjoy!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5
- - - - - - - - -
9:50am Dr Daniel Whiting: Video call in ten minutes.
The text was always the same and never a minute late. These factors made Spencer often wondered if it was an automatic text.
9:52am Reid:Okay
Texting a quick reply, Spencer got out of bed, swapping out his baggy T-shirt and sweatpants for his usual work pants, shirt and cardigan. He was just about to throw on his tie when he remembered he was off duty and quickly discarded it.
The coffee maker had just finished it loud rumbling when the beeping started on Spencer's laptop. Reaching for it he placed the wretched device on his kitchen counter and pressed enter, accepting the call.
"One of these days you'll answer the call with a happier expression Dr Reid." Dr Whiting said, his face appearing on the screen.
Dr Whiting was around 60, with thick black rimmed glasses and pure white hair combed into a neat almost Grease Lightning style. Although he gave off a very strict aura; Spencer had learned in his 4 year of him being his therapist that the old man did enjoy a joke.
Spencer has thought several times over the years that if they weren't therapist and patient, theys of made good friends.
"I'm sorry, Dr Whiting. I just don't like this stupid computer" Spencer replied, remembering the day he was given the devil contraption.
"I'm aware. This is how we start every session Spencer. But we can tackle your supposed technophobia another day. How are you?" Dr whiting continued, a small smile sitting on his wrinkled lips.
"I'm alright." Spencer replied automatically then cursed under his breath as Dr Whiting wrote something down.
"Strike one to me Dr Reid" Whiting continued, looking expectantly through the screen.
"I am okay. Its been 2 months since my last serious panic attack and i am 4 years and 237 days still sober." Spencer corrected, scolding himself for forgetting how he's meant to answer as he poured himself a coffee.
When Spencer has first started therapy, he'd been in a mess. Struggling with the craving to relapse along with the crushing grief over the loss of his girlfriend Maeve, Aaron had put him on leave with strict instructions to go to Dr Whiting. After a few weeks of therapy, Whiting had implemented this routine. During their sessions, he'd ask Spencer how he was. Spencer was then to reply with how long he had been sober and how long since his last mental health dip as a way to remind him how far he'd come. For the most part it worked, even if he tended to forget the routine.
"Good to hear. Now, anything to report?"
Spencer nodded, placing his mug down and reaching for his notebook.
"I have a new teammate, her names Alyssa" Spencer said, reading the first part of the note he'd left for himself. Dr Whiting knew Spencer didn't need the notebook to remember, but he'd insisted writing things down were good for his mental wellbeing as well as his memory.
"I see, and why do you think you need to bring this up today?" Whiting asked, scribbling something down.
"Two reasons actually. Reason one is she is also my new neighbour. So I wanted to run past you the home/work life dynamic that may affect. The second thing is actually something she said" Spencer replied, shutting the book in his hand and replacing it with his coffee.
"What was it she said?" Whiting asked matter of factly, cocking his head to one side as he listened intently.
"Well she asked me if we could meet up outside of work today if her plans fell through. I agreed but it made me realised that this is the first time I've been invited out by a team member that's not on my therapy plan"
"I see. So Emily is still your designated 'buddy'?" Dr Whiting asked, referring to the buddy system they'd put in place to help Spencer leave his apartment during his grief management.
"Yeah she is, and Derek is still my Sobriety sponsor" Spencer added, watching as his therapist seemed to ponder that information.
"And how does that make you feel Spencer? The fact they're still rather tangled in your recovery?" Dr Whiting asked finally, putting down his pen and clasping his hands together.
"I'm fine with them being there for me. Really I am. It's just when Alyssa asked me to go out with her today it made me realise that that was the first time someone who isn't part of my recovery has asked."
"And how did that realisation make you feel?"
"Like they were only asking me because they have too. As if its a chore they need to complete. Penelope and JJ will ask me to come for a drink after work, sure, but I've never had them text me on our days off asking to do anything." Spencer admitted, feeling the words slice at him. Dr Whiting picked up his pen again.
"Thank you for you honesty Spencer, because of this new development, I'll be informing your team leader that I'll be cancelling your buddy system. Derek will still be your Sponsor as that's nothing to do with me. But I can tell from these feeling that the buddy tactic has served its purpose and if carried on may actually begin to work against you." Dr Whiting said, writing rapidly as he spoke.
"May I ask how you got to that conclusion?" Spencer wondered aloud, watching the laptop screen as his therapist finished writing.
"Putting it plainly you think they're only spending time with you outside of work because I've told them too. Therefore taking away the command will help you recognise that they are spending time with you because they want to. Not because of any orders." Whiting continued, looking so directly into the camera Spencer could almost feel the eye contact.
"Do you think that will help?" Spencer asked, tightening the grip on his coffee mug.
"if we've caught these intrusive thoughts early enough, yes it should."
"And what about Alyssa?" Spencer asked, bringing the conversation back to the first topic. Dr Whiting steepled his fingers in front of his face as he thought.
"You've began to have intrusive thoughts about your friends and teammates and their motives behind spending time with you outside of work. Therefore Miss Alyssa may be your saving grace here Spencer. As she has no idea of your past, you'll be able to build a tauma free friendship with her that cannot be tainted by your thoughts" Dr Whiting said with an air of authority only therapists seem to possess.
Spencer took a moment to process this, allowing himself to take in all the variables before speaking.
"I understand. I can't assumes she's hanging out with me out of pity if she doesn't think I need to be pitied" Spencer said, watching as his therapist nodded enthusiastically on the screen.
"Exactly. Anyway, I see you're clock watching so I shall let you go. I shall text you with our next scheduled call time. And I'll be expecting a run down of you time out with Alyssa." Dr Whiting concluded, shaking his finger at the camera again as if to say 'Or else!" before abruptly ending the call.
Spencer had just placed the laptop back in its place on the table when her heard the doorbell go, the gothic ringing sounding through his apartment.
"One second!" Spencer shouted, throwing the remains of his now half drunk coffee before grabbing his keys and coat and racing towards the door.
#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x original female character#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#emily prentiss#jennifer jj jareau#jennifer jareau#david rossi#jason gideon#derek morgan#penelope garcia#ao3fic
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