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zizzlekwum · 1 year

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Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

The BAU investigates the leader of a terrorist group in Guantanamo Bay in order to prevent a terrorist attack. Follows the events of Criminal Minds Season 2 Episode 10 “Lessons Learned.”

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 4,270 (4,009 without the backstory blurb)

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls [if you want to be added to the list, please comment or send me an ask]

Relevant backstory that I don’t wanna write: you woke up in the Criminal Minds/ Bones universe because of a top-secret government project focusing on interacting and communicating with different universes. You’re from the year 2023 (because why the hell not; also that way you have seen all Criminal Minds and Bones episodes up until February of 2023). Your cell phone was in your hand and your wallet was in your pocket when you woke up, which both help prove to the scientists that their attempt was successful. Eventually they realize you know things about the future and put you through the training to be an FBI agent so you can work with the BAU and with Booth, Brennan, and the Jeffersonian team (the idea being you would be an asset because of your knowledge of the future). Only the people directly involved with both teams as well as their direct supervisors (like Strauss) know about your unique circumstances, and you aren’t allowed to tell anyone else because of the top secret nature of the project that led to you being there. You’re 24 years old when you end up in the universe, so the same age as Reid in Season 1 of Criminal Minds. The first chapter will take place when you’re 25, during Prentiss’ first official case with the BAU (so Season 2 Episode 10) and around the start of Season 2 of Bones (so definitely before Season 2 Episode 10 of Bones, which is done purposely for angst reasons I’m excited about for reasons I will not explain but which will eventually become apparent).

* * * * *

Your cell phone wakes you just after six in the morning. You reach for it on your nightstand, knowing it’s probably JJ with a case.

“What?” you grumble, flipping it open and putting it to your ear without opening your eyes.

“We have a case,” JJ tells you.

You groan and roll over onto your back, still not opening your eyes. “But it’s so early!”

JJ sighs. “It’s about a potential terrorist attack,” she says bluntly, causing you to sit up and force your eyes open.

“Shit. Okay, I’m leaving now. See you soon.” You reach your hands up and rub your eyes before getting out of bed, grabbing your glasses, and throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt, also grabbing a plain black hoodie to take with you. You hurriedly brush your teeth and throw on your FBI hat before heading to your kitchen, swallowing your meds with water from the tap. You grab your keys and your backpack and rush out the door to your vehicle, a black 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee, the same make and model your dad had when you were born.

When you get to the office, Hotch is already there, walking in front of you. Morgan and Gideon are behind you as you follow Hotch into the briefing room, where Garcia, JJ, and Prentiss are already seated around the table.

“Everybody, meet Agent Prentiss,” Hotch announces, gesturing toward her. You bite back a grin, excited to finally be able to meet your favorite character.

“The other day,” Garcia replies.

“I’ve been filling her in on protocol,” JJ adds.

Morgan introduces himself with a handshake as you take your seat at the table, across from Prentiss.

You give Prentiss a wave. “Y/N Y/L/N, it’s great to finally meet you!”.

“Y/L/N? You mean, you’re the one who—”

“The government’s pet project?” you finish with a grin. “Yeah, that one. I—”

“We can make nice later,” Hotch interrupts.

“Right, sorry,” you say sheepishly, turning your attention to JJ. “So what do we know so far?”

“The DEA raided what they thought was a hardened meth lab right here in Northern Virginia, but they found this instead.” JJ points the remote in her hand at the TV, pressing a button, prompting a picture of a homemade device to show on the screen.

“Well, shit,” you mutter.

“That could be a dispersal device for a chemical weapon,” Morgan says. “Sophisticated.”

“Homeland Security’s thinking Al Qaeda,” JJ says.

“They’ve developed devices that span the spectrum of sophistication,” Reid offers, “some as simple as soda bottles and paint cans.”

“They’re called al ikhteraa, literally ‘the invention,’” Prentiss adds.

Reid blinks. “Uh, they are,” he confirms.

“Do we know what the biological or chemical agent is yet?” Hotch asks.

Morgan shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

JJ continues. “The cell members bailed out through a tunnel. The DEA recovered a Nextel two-way and managed to intercept a message.” She places a piece of paper on the table, which Prentiss picks up. “That’s not the transcript—”

“No, it’s in Arabic,” Prentiss adds. “Uh… ‘our friends surprised us and eloped. We can no longer wait for the wedding as planned. We can deliver our gift at the next crescent.’” There’s a pause as everyone stares at her. “Uh, I lived in several Middle Eastern countries growing up,” Prentiss explains when she notices everyone’s curiosity.

You smirk. “Told you she was good.”

“Next crescent?” Gideon asks.

“I would assume the moon cycle,” you offer.

Prentiss nods. “Muslims sometimes use a lunar calendar. I’d have to look it up—”

“Next crescent moon is in two days,” Garcia interrupts.

“So whatever they’re attacking, it’s happening in less than 48 hours,” Gideon states.

“It sounds like it, sir,” Prentiss responds.

You sigh, adjusting your glasses. “Wonderful.”

JJ jumps in. “Payment for the Nextel is linked to this man.” She presses a button on her remote, pulling up a picture on the screen. “Jind Allah.”

“Literally ‘soldier of God,’” Prentiss notes.

“That’s pretty poor operational security for a sophisticated plot,” Morgan says.

You nod, humming in agreement. “It almost makes you think they wanted to be linked back to him, but I don’t see what they could possibly have to gain from doing so.”

“Two months ago, Jind Allah was captured leaving the US using a forged Pakistani passport via Richmond International Airport,” JJ explains. “He’s been held as a ghost detainee in Guantanamo Bay ever since.”

“So technically, he doesn’t exist,” Garcia says.

“Soldier of God isn’t a name,” Gideon points out.

“No, it’s most likely a name taken on for the Jihad,” Prentiss tells you.

“Meaning struggle,” you add, causing everyone to turn their attention to you in surprise. “What?” You shrug. “It’s a pretty common word in the future news cycles. Extremists claim it’s a holy war.”

“Yet the words ‘holy’ and ‘war’ never appear together in the Quran,” Reid adds, leaning back in his seat.

“Do we know his real name?” Gideon asks.

JJ shakes her head. “CIA interrogators have gotten nothing out of the guy.”

“They need us to break him,” Gideon concludes.

“We do know from past intercepts that he’s a recruiter,” JJ continues. “He came into this country to assemble the Omega cell, a sleeper cell with an unknown mission.”

“We have 48 hours to do what the CIA hasn’t been able to manage in 2 months?” Morgan shakes his head.

“The CIA doesn’t use our tactics,” you point out. “They specialize in torture, not behavioral analysis.”

“We could be looking at the first attack on our soil since 9/11,” Gideon says ominously. A moment of quiet passes as his words register. “Reid and I will head to Guantanamo Bay to interrogate Jind Allah,” Gideon states. “The rest of you’ll stay here and work the local investigation.” He stands as the rest of you nod. He leaves the room and Hotch follows him as the rest of you file out the door.

“So, you’re really from another universe?” Prentiss asks, turning toward you as you both walk to your desks.

You nod. “Mm-hmm. This was just a TV show where I’m from. Also, it was 2023.”

Prentiss whistles. “It’s kind of hard to believe.”

“I totally get it,” you assure her. “It’s weird for me, too. The last time I lived through today, I was eight.” She looks at you in shock. You laugh. “Yeah, I was technically born in 1998, but my adjusted birth year is 1981, since I’m 25,” you explain.

She stares at you, shocked. “Wow,” she finally manages.

You laugh again. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to,” you tell her. “And it sucks that I can’t tell anyone outside of the BAU and my other team at the Jeffersonian. Not that anyone would believe me, but still.”

“Your other team?” she asks.

“I sometimes work with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan, a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian, because I know the outcomes of their cases, too, since they were also a TV show,” you explain, sitting down at your desk.

Prentiss moves to sit down at her desk across from you, but pauses as she glances up at Hotch and Gideon, who are watching her.

“…only member of the team fluent in Arabic,” Hotch is saying.

“Well, there are other translators,” Gideon responds.

“Yeah, but they haven’t studied behavior,” Hotch points out.

“She even have her ready bag yet?” Gideon asks.

Across from you, Prentiss slowly reaches down and picks up a black duffel bag, placing it on her desk before holding her hands together in front of her. You grin, glancing away.

“My guess is there isn’t much this woman’s unprepared for,” you hear Hotch tell Gideon, nodding toward Prentiss.

Gideon glances at her before walking down the stairs. “Car leaves in four minutes,” he tells her while he walks past.

Prentiss smiles. “Yes, sir.”

You give her a thumbs up, mouthing “good luck” as she follows him with a smile.

“Y/L/N, Morgan, you’re with me,” Hotch announces. “We’re going to the scene of the raid.”

You nod, standing and following him out the door to the elevator.

* * * * *

When you arrive at the scene of the raid, you exit the SUV and follow Morgan and Hotch into the house.

“Bonnie Ryan,” the lead DEA agent says, holding out her hand to Hotch as you walk through the door.

Hotch shakes her hand. “Aaron Hotchner.”

“DEA team,” Agent Ryan says. “We ran this raid.”

“Derek Morgan.” Morgan introduces himself, shaking Agent Ryan’s hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you add, nodding at Agent Ryan. She gives you a polite nod in return.

Morgan gestures to the paper covering the windows. “This must’ve slowed you down some, huh?”

Agent Ryan nods. “Well, enough for them to get out through the tunnel,” she says.

“They must have done escape drills,” Hotch notes as Agent Ryan gestures to you to follow her down the hallway into the room with the dispersal device.

There’s another DEA agent in the room already. He smiles when he notices Morgan. “Hey, Morgan.”

Morgan smiles, patting him on the arm. “Hey, Kenny. Been a minute, man.”

“Yeah, it has,” Kenny says.

“We good in here?” Morgan asks.

Kenny nods. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Everything’s been rendered safe.”

You follow Hotch and Morgan to take a closer look at the dispersal device.

“Wow,” Morgan says, bending down. “These guys weren’t messing around.” He observes the device for a second. “Hotch, these tubes surround what would be the explosive charge. And this cylinder right here?”

“Probably where they would put whatever bioweapon they’re using, right?” you say.

Morgan nods. “Bingo.”

“That’s a happy thought,” Kenny says.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Morgan says, sighing.

You follow Hotch and Morgan into the other room.

“Looks like a four man cell,” Morgan notes.

Hotch examines the clothes hanging in the open closet. “They assimilated into the community.”

“Just like any other suburban gangster wannabes,” Morgan adds, looking through a stack of CDs on the floor.

“Who do you think we’re dealing with?” Agent Ryan asks.

“Most likely Middle Eastern males in their early twenties,” Hotch answers.

“And judging by that device out there, they’re looking at significant targets,” Morgan adds.

“Military installations or government buildings, places like that,” you interject as you begin looking through one of the cots on the floor.

“You know, if these guys were Fundamentalists, you’d think they’d have Qurans, prayer mats,” Morgan says.

“No,” Agent Ryan tells him, shaking her head. “We didn’t find any of that here.”

“Which tells us they at least have one secondary location, if not more,” you note, turning over the cot you were looking through. You find a box with some newspapers in it. Flipping through, you come across what looks to be chemical equations printed on paper. “Guys, you might wanna take a look at this.”

Hotch, Agent Ryan, and Morgan turn their attention toward you. “What is it?” Hotch asks.

You hold up the papers. “Looks like a list of chemicals.”

Morgan holds out his hand and you pass the papers over to him. “I’m gonna check with Garcia,” he says, taking out his phone and dialing. He waits for her to pick up, then says, “Hey. I’m gonna read off a list to you. These are chemicals.” He pauses, presumably waiting for her response. “You’re sure?” he finally says, frowning. “All right.” He hangs up the phone and puts it back in his pocket.

“What’d she say?” Hotch asks.

“Garcia said this looks like a list of additives needed to weaponize anthrax,” Morgan reports solemnly. Agent Ryan and Kenny share a look.

You curse, pulling out your phone. “I’ll let Gideon, Reid, and Prentiss know.” You dial Reid’s number and wait for him to pick up.

“Reid,” he says after only a couple rings.

“Anthrax,” you tell him.

“What?”

“We think they’re going to use anthrax in their attack,” you explain. “We found a list of chemicals in the house and had Garcia look them up.”

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Nope,” you reply. “We’ll keep you posted.” You hang up the phone and turn back to Hotch and Morgan. “So, what now?”

* * * * *

Later, you’re in the backseat of the SUV with Hotch at the wheel and Morgan in the passenger seat when Hotch’s phone rings.

“Hotchner,” he says, bringing it to his ear. He pauses, presumably to listen to whoever is on the other line. “Annandale?” Another pause. “I’ll get Agent Ryan to organize another raid. And notify Gideon and Reid. Thanks.” He hangs up and turns the car around.

“What’s up?” Morgan asks.

“Garcia found some chatter about a second location in Annandale,” Hotch tells the two of you. “We’re going to check it out.”

It takes just over twenty minutes to get to the second site. When Hotch pulls the car up, the DEA team is already there, ready to enter.

“Hey guys,” a DEA agent greets us. “We’re going silent tonight, no comms.”

“Let’s be careful,” Agent Ryan adds. “We don’t know what to expect.” She looks to Hotch. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Hotch says, handing you and Morgan each a gas mask before slipping his own over his head. You quickly put it on before pulling your gun from its holster at your hip.

“Let’s do it,” the other DEA agent says, and everyone moves to the ramp of the truck to climb up over the fence. You follow Morgan up the ramp and back down the other side, biting the inside of your cheek in nervousness. The lead DEA agent enters the trailer, gun drawn, and the rest of you follow.

“Clear!” one of them shouts to your left.

“Clear!” someone else to your right calls. Hotch walks back to the door, taking off his gas mask.

“This place is completely empty,” Morgan says, taking off his own mask. “We missed them again.”

Hotch takes out his cell phone and dials a number. “It’s Hotch. We’re at cell location number two. No cell, no lab, no dispersal devices. We’re still looking for escape tunnels.” He hangs up.

You take off your own mask as you and Morgan begin to examine the room. You’ve barely started when Hotch’s phone rings.

“What’s the problem,” he says. Then he tenses. “Everybody out!” he yells. “It’s a trap! Now!”

You curse, rushing to the door. Everyone scrambles to run away from the trailer, but the force of the explosion still almost knocks you off your feet. You stumble and immediately look around for Hotch and Morgan, heart pounding. You let out a sigh of relief when you see them both unharmed. You then look around at everyone else when you see a DEA agent lying face-down on the ground, not moving.

“Shit,” you say, running towards him, but there’s already another agent rolling him over and pressing his fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. He shakes his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and experience a flash of guilt at your previous relief.

Soon after, the fire department arrives to put out the flaming remains of the trailer. You, Hotch, Morgan, and the remaining DEA agents all linger around the scene, not able to do anything else.

Morgan soon gets a phone call. “Yeah, it’s Morgan,” he says after flipping open his phone and bringing it to his ear. “Hello? Garcia, can you hear me?” He pauses, turning away from the burning wreckage. “Yeah, I know. We lost a SWAT agent.” Another pause. “Don’t worry, don’t think you’re gonna get rid of me that easy. Hotch and Y/L/N are okay, too.” A pause, and then he smiles. “No, but I know who to call if I do. Thanks, Baby Girl.” He hangs up.

You and Morgan head over to Hotch, who’s standing next to Agent Ryan near the back of the ambulance. Agent Ryan shakes her head. “Son of a bitch,” she says, her voice shaking.

“I’m sorry about Kenny,” Hotch tells her softly.

“Yeah, me too,” she says, not meeting his eyes.

“The chatter was a setup. They knew we’d be listening,” Hotch states.

“They lead us straight here,” Morgan adds.

Agent Ryan steels herself, grinding her jaw. “Just tell me you know where to look next.”

Hotch sighs. “Not yet.”

Agent Ryan looks away.

* * * * *

You’re stuck at the site of the explosion into the early morning. You yawn from the back seat as Hotch drives and Morgan answers his ringing phone.

“Talk to me,” he says, then reaches into his pocket to grab a notepad and pen, writing something down as he balances his cell between his ear and his shoulder. “Got it, thank you.” He hangs up the phone.

“What’s up?” you ask him.

“Got a lead?” Hotch says.

“And an address,” Morgan tells him, ripping off the notepad paper and handing it to Hotch, who glances at it before speeding up.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you’re stepping out of the car in front of a small, regular-looking house. You squint in the sunlight for a moment while you wait for your glasses to darken before following Hotch and Morgan to the group of SWAT agents standing together on the front lawn.

“How does a terrorist cell exist right here in Mayberry?” Morgan asks, walking beside Hotch.

“Really reminds you how they can be anywhere,” you say.

“Infrared scanning still shows no one inside,” the lead SWAT agent reports as the three of you approach. “We’re doing a soft entry in case it’s booby trapped.” Hotch nods as you and Morgan take a step back. The SWAT team lines up at the door before the lead agent rips it open with a crowbar and they all pile inside.

It’s only a minute later when the lead agent comes back out the door, pulling his gas mask off. “We have five deceased males and what looks to be a crude lab,” he reports to Hotch, where you and Morgan stand beside him. “All shot in the head, execution style.”

“Any anthrax on the scene?” Hotch asks.

The agent shakes his head. “Only residue. There’s also packing and tags from four new backpacks.” He begins to walk away to report to the rest of his team.

Morgan shakes his head. “Backpacks.”

“They’re already on the move,” you say.

“We were too late,” Hotch says, walking back toward the SUV. You and Morgan follow behind him.

* * * * *

When you get back to the office, JJ meets you at the elevator. “Grand opening of the USA Mall today. It’s the third-largest in the country and it’s right smack in the middle of McLean, Virginia.”

“Let’s move,” Hotch says, turning around. You and Morgan follow him to the car, hopping in. He’s already driving before your door is closed all the way.

You drive in silence, the tension palpable in the air, before Morgan speaks. “What’s going on with you?” he asks Hotch. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost back there.”

Hotch tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Haley’s supposed to take Jack to the new mall to have his portrait taken.”

Your stomach drops.

“Well, go ahead and call her,” Morgan tells him.

“It’s a breach of security,” Hotch replies tersely.

“Who gives a fuck?” you exclaim. “That’s your family!”

Morgan shakes his head. “You lose Haley and Jack, screw this job. You won’t have a life.”

Hotch takes out his cell phone and dials, holding it to his ear. You and Morgan wait, the feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach growing bigger with each passing second. Suddenly, Hotch shakes his head. “I can’t reach her.” The car accelerates even faster.

* * * * *

It takes almost an hour to get to the mall from Quantico, and you’re aware of how close you are to failing. As soon as Hotch parks, you’re throwing open the door and jumping out, your gas mask under your arm, running to the doors. The SWAT team has just arrived too, by the looks of it.

“Morgan, I’m going to find the security office!” Hotch calls over his shoulder, running to the side entrance.

“Go!” Morgan shouts.

“Morgan!” Agent Ryan calls to the side of you. You and Morgan rush over the where she and a few other agents in tactical armor are standing around a nondescript van, where the front doors are still open. An agent rips open the back of the van, pointing his gun inside, then steps back. You look over Morgan’s shoulder to see another dead man with a bullet in his head.

“Looks like loading dock security,” Morgan notes.

“Should we evacuate?” Agent Ryan asks.

“No,” Morgan says as you shake your head. “No, we’d have mass panic. Let’s go.”

You, Morgan, and the rest of the SWAT agents make your way inside the mall when Hotch’s voice comes over your ear piece. “Morgan, I’ve got four guys on the east end of the roof.”

“This way,” Morgan tells you and the SWAT agents, heading toward a stairwell.

When you’re all starting to climb the stairs, you hear Hotch say, “It’s the air vents."

Morgan stops and pulls his gas mask from his belt, and you do the same. “They’re going to the air vents,” he reports to the rest of the SWAT team. He glances over at you to make sure your mask is on. You give him a nod. “Move,” he commands, and you quickly continue your ascent to the roof.

When you reach the top, you all fan out, looking for the air vents. You follow closely behind Morgan, hurrying across the roof. Suddenly, Morgan raises his gun, and you follow suit as you look ahead and see four men kneeling next to the air vents, fiddling with something inside their backpacks. You, Morgan, and the nearby SWAT agents creep closer as one of the men looks up and notices you.

“Don’t move!” Morgan yells. “Put the devices down and put your hands where I can see them!”

All four of them slowly stand. Three of the men raise their hands as another quickly turns around and grabs a rifle.

“GUN!” one of the SWAT agents yells, and everyone opens fire. Three of the four men fall to the ground, dead, as the fourth makes a run for it.

“Shit!” you yell, breaking out into a run to chase after him, right at Morgan’s heels. You turn a corner just as the man turns around and raises his gun. You and Morgan each fire a shot at the man, who stumbles backwards and falls through the glass ceiling behind him. You rush over and look down to see him on the ground, not moving, surrounded by screaming shoppers and a growing pool of blood. Morgan nods at you before stepping away, holstering his weapon.

“Hotch,” he says into his ear piece. “We got ‘em.”

* * * * *

When you get back to the office, it’s dark outside. JJ is there to greet you.

“Good job today,” Hotch tells her as he walks to his office to grab his things. You head to your desk to grab your backpack, contemplating waiting for Gideon, Prentiss, and Reid to get back before yawning and deciding to go home instead.

“‘Night,” you tell JJ as you head to the elevator. She nods at you with a smile.

You yawn again as you slowly make your way through the parking lot to your car, eyes drooping. Your entire body is exhausted after not having slept in almost two days. You get into the car and turn the ignition, turning up the radio to help you stay awake. Within twenty minutes, you’re home. Walking inside, you throw your keys on the table next to the door and sling your backpack off your shoulder, heading straight to the kitchen to grab your meds. You neglect brushing your teeth in favor of sprawling out on your bed and closing your eyes, sighing. You’re asleep within minutes.

NOTE: If you think I missed any trigger warnings, please let me know!

56 notes · View notes

ithebookhoarder · 4 months

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(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through.

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest.

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes.

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’.

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him.

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain.

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death.

David Rossi

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?”

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close.

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded.

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it.

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.”

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up.

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force.

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is.

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened.

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance.

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat.

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you.

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.”

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him.

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it.

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public.

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do.

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this.

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her.

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable.

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected.

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it.

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it.

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest.

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir.

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed.

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly.

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment.

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home.

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you.

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building.

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.”

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him.

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep.

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing.

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case.

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him.

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in.

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby.

Masterlist

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #criminal minds #BAU #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #david rossi x reader #david rossi #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #penelope garcia x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #hotch x reader

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forhappysake · 4 months

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reidswhore · 13 days

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Imagine the team thinking Spencer is so sweet and innocent, a total virgin and any sexual encounter he would’ve had must have been so vanilla.

Sweet innocent Spencer Reid, who rails you into oblivion every single night, who makes you forget your own name and scream his so loud the entire neighbourhood knows who’s making you feels so fucking good.

#bau team #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #alex blake #david rossi #fbi #spencer reid smut

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Texting the BAU: Would they still love you if you were a worm?

I'm not sure if anyone's ever done this before, but I was inspired by the AI voice tiktok that I saw of 'Hotch' answering this question! The user that posted the tiktok I saw was 'shiftershiz', I thought their video was really cool and I owe them the inspiration for this post!

This post has Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss. If you'd like to request a temp agent that I didn't include, or an earlier one that got written off, please do so in my inbox, I'd be happy to make more :)

I apologize if some of these pictures are a bit longer than others, I cut the conversation into two 'screenshots' when I could but sometimes it was easier just to stretch them out a teeny bit.

(Almost) all of these can be read as either platonic or romantic, the only hitch is that I mention Will in JJ's post so unless you're envisioning a throuple that one won't work </3

Images under cut to avoid a long post, happy texting!

Hotch:

Garcia:

Morgan:

Rossi:

JJ:

Reid:

Prentiss:

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sabage101 · 3 months

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Card declines at therapy and they bring out the parents of the boy who was alive yesterday

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 9 months

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[BAU Chief Emily Prentiss walks over to your desk before taking a seat beside you with an expectant look on her face]

y/n: can i help you?

Emily: I finished all my work

y/n:

Emily, smirking: I think you know what I want

y/n, sighing: which one?

Emily, sporting a massive grin: snail

[y/n laughs while opening their drawer before pressing a sticker to emily's shirt]

y/n: snailed it

#emily prentiss #criminal minds incorrect quotes #incorrect criminal minds quotes #criminal minds incorrect #incorrect criminal minds #incorrect cm #bau incorrect quotes #emily prentiss x reader

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yondiii · 4 days

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SPENCER REID FIC RECS

i’ll sort them by category but prepare yourself this is gonna be a long ass list

im gonna keep updating with new fics regularly so stay tuned

thank you to all these authors for supplying these amazing fics and for feeding my fixation

ly all bbys tysm

pls like and reblog xxx

WIPS

out of convenience 2 - @qlossytbh

she blinded me with science - @whiskeyghoul

my mind turns you into folklore - @samuel-de-champagne-problems

SERIES

right kind of wrong - @incognit0slut

longing glances masterlist - @radioactiveinvisible

ANGST

the great gig in the sky - @mcntsee

chloe or sam or maria or marcus - @mariasont

don’t walk out - @railingsofsorrow

false god - @clementinegreye

doubt comes in - @/street-smarts00

FLUFF

isn’t she pretty daddy - @reiderwriter

take my breath away - @atlabeth

spencer babying reader - @/reiderwriter

nicknames - @pathologicalreid

sunflowers - @baubarbz

after getting hurt on a case - @womanmanipulator

strange perfections - @nereidprinc3ss

SMUT 18+

beyond the limit 2 - @incognit0slut

decoy (16+) - @violetrainbow412-blog

in the dead of night - @/nereidprinc3ss

whiny and spoiled - @/nereidprinc3ss

little angel - @/reiderwriter

HURT/COMFORT

clingy - @street-smarts00

growing pains - @killerlookz

from now on - @aperrywilliams

shouldn’t i want you? - @weird-is-life

OTHERS

stalker - @miley1442111

spencer comforts you (badass reader) - @luveline

don’t think i don’t like you - @/luveline

baby reid! baby reid! - @cowboyspence

so high school 2 - @bellasprettywords

curtain call - @rainydayathogwarts

pretty boy - @/atlabeth

the way i love you - @thegettingbyp2

more coming soon…..

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spaceyrosie · 3 months

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for you, i would ruin myself

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader, hints of Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Summary: Hotch is a busy man and he truly tried his best to be there for his children, until one day they got into a serious accident, leaving his daughter to be seriously injured. Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got seriously hurt, descriptive injuries, blood, mentions of death, Haley's death, Hotch really tried his best, cliffhanger Author's note: I've been wanting to write for Aaron Hotchner for a while now and have finally gotten the time and inspiration to do so. I don't know if I should make a second part. Word count: 2.1k

“Dad! Hurry or Jack’s going to eat the cake all by himself!” you hollered from the living room.

Jack giggled “No I’m not,” his hand reaching out for the cookies they baked together that afternoon.

It was a peaceful day, one you have wished for a while now. Your dad’s job made it challenging for him to be home during the weekends, but today is one of the days he has taken the day off to celebrate your birthday.

“I’m coming!” Aaron replied walking to the living room to his children.

He had asked you a few weeks prior if you wanted a party for your birthday but you replied only wanting a small and quiet birthday with him and Jack. “I just want to celebrate the moment with the people I love the most, but I don’t get to do that these days.”

Aaron understands that reference, he has been travelling for work a lot in the past months. This is your first birthday since Haley passed, and it’s hard to celebrate without her.

Pulling Jack to his lap, they both sang Happy Birthday before you blew out the candles. Jack cheered, “We eat the cake and cookies now, Daddy? Please,” Giving his best pout, Aaron laughed.

“At least let y/n cut the cake first,” he chuckled while ruffling his son's hair.

As you are about to slice into the cake, they hear the dreaded ringtone from his work phone. Grimacing slightly, he picked up the call and lifted Jack from his lap before walking to the kitchen, “Hotchner. Yes, JJ?”

You tried not to let your emotions down, you knew this was part of his job. But, your fingers trembled as you sliced the cake before handing a plate to Jack. Your dad is still talking on the phone in the kitchen and judging by how his voice lowered, you know what’s about to come.

You tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall - will there be a time when your dad can make more time for his own family?

He walks back into the room, face pulled into a frown. He knelt before you, gaze heavy, “I’m so sorry, honey.” He started. “We got pulled into a case. I got to fly to Arizona.”

His apology lingered in the air. You nod, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You swallowed down your disappointment before forcing out a smile.

“It’s alright, dad.” Your reply was short. You couldn’t let him see the cracks behind your smile. He carried enough burdens, with the weight of his job and being a single parent of two, you couldn’t add your disappointment to his plate.

He frowns not convinced, “Really, me and Jack will just watch Star Wars after this.” Who you are trying to convince, him or yourself, you are not sure.

He looks into your eyes, “I’ll make it up to you, honey,” he whispers, his hand cupping your cheek. You savour this moment - when was the last time Dad held you?

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” You turned away, breaking the contact, and he took the cue to grab his go-bag. Your eyes are misting up but you quickly wipe the tears away not wanting Jack or your dad to see it.

It was your birthday, after all, you are supposed to feel happy, right? Right?

Standing by the door, he crouched down to hug you before pulling away to speak to you, “Happy birthday, honey. I’ll be back soon.”

You watched him walk out the door, knowing he would not be coming home anytime soon.

The next time Hotch dissapoints you was during the end of school year.

The ticking clock felt like a curse, each second mocking his fading hope. Hotch cursed when he saw the time - 3 hours until 7.00 pm.

Looking at the evidence board, he pinched his eyebrows together, the pins and photos taunting him with a case and the fact that he will be disappointing his daughter, again.

He felt a buzz from his pocket notifying a text from you.

I’m getting ready for the show. See you there!

He didn’t get to reply to the text as Morgan notified him the tactical team was ready to go to the unsub’s place. Pulling on his vest, it felt tight against his chest, burned with frustration and anxiety about the situation. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as he led the team to the location provided.

Emily sat beside him noticing his tense posture, “You alright, Hotch?”

He doesn’t want his emotions to cloud his judgment while being in the field. Shifting his gaze into a stoic focus, he said, “Yeah, just ready to wrap the case after we catch the unsub.”

Emily was not convinced as her gaze cut through his stoic mask with her head tilted to the side and eyebrow arched. Hotch sighs, “Y/N’s recital… it’s tonight. Her solo. And I won’t be there.”

She winced, the weight of his unspoken pain echoing in the silence of the car.

“I promised to be there but I know even if we get this guy on time, by the time we arrive in Quantico, the show is finished.”

You squinted through the glare of the spotlights where a sea face blurred in your vision. Your eyes, desperate with searching, landed on Aunt Jessica’s sympathetic gaze, followed by the emptiness of the reserved seat beside her. She waved when you both locked eyes and gave you an apologetic look when your eyes lingered on the empty seat next to her.

The audience applauded after your fingers hit the last note, but all you can hear is the deafening silence inside your head. Flashes of should’ve, would’ve echoed in your head, as the seat next to Aunt Jess remained empty even until you took the final bow.

The case dragged on as Hotch and Prentiss interrogate the unsub into a confession. By the time the team puts their reports in, it's almost midnight.

Hotch tiptoed into the living room, the house quiet. Your bedroom door flicked open and you felt your dad’s presence.

“I'm sorry, honey.” His voice rasped, each word carving deeper into your disappointment.

“I-” You started, voice thick with unshed tears “I- I understand, Dad.” The lie tasted bitter in your mouth.

When he remained quiet, you continued, “It's part of the job, right.” You whispered, voice cracking at the end.

Hotch swallowed his guilt, he'll never get to see her perform on stage. “Honey, I-” He puts a hand on your shoulder to offer some sort of comfort. But, the both of you know nothing can take back his action. “I really tried to be there, y/n,” He said instead.

Still looking away from him, you took a shuddered breath before sighing, “I just…” you whispered, “I wished you were there.”

Silence consumed the room as they both weighed their words in.

Somehow, too many disappointments led him to situations he regrets.

Hotch frowned deepened when the traffic slows during the drive back to Quantico.

“Traffic’s unusual at this hour,” Prentiss muttered on his side.

Hotch grunted not in the mood. The team got called in for a case over the weekend, and they just finished wrapping it up. Despite it being local, he is still pissed to be working on his day off.

Sirens wailed behind their SUV, and he glanced in the rear mirror where an ambulance was passing through the traffic. The traffic moved slowly and they passed by a few police cars parked by the roadside trying to control the traffic where an accident had happened.

Amidst the flashing lights, he saw it - a black sedan crumpled beyond recognition. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the plates before he pulled to a sudden stop by the roadside.

“Hotch? Why did we stop?”

She followed his gaze to the plate numbers before realisation dawned on her. Not caring to answer her, he jumped out of the SUV before running towards the scene. The smell of gasoline overwhelms his nostrils as his eyes wildly look around the crash site. An officer pulled in front of him, “Sir, please step back.”

“My family!” His roar cut through the atmosphere as he tried to shove past the officer. “Let me through! That’s my family!”

“Aaron!” A familiar voice hollered and he spotted Jessica’s wild curls from a distance. Jessica stumbled toward him, her face smudged with soot and blood stained her shirt. Dread fills his chest as he takes in the condition she is in.

“Jess!” His voice, usually calm and composed, cracked as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. “What’s happened? Where’s Jack?” He threw many questions. “Jess, tell me what happened! Oh my God, where’s y/n?” Aaron could feel the thumping in his chest.

Jess was crying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I’m really sorry,” she choked out and he almost lost his mind when he heard those words from her.

Then a small figure emerge from the chaos, “Daddy!” Jack’s familiar voice brought some peace to his racing heart. Running towards the boy, who was being attended by a paramedic, he crouched down to console his son’s terrified sobs, “Hey, buddy. Oh Jack, ohh,” Jack was crying, a deep gash etched across his forehead.

His gaze, frantic and desperate, scoured the scene before he landed on a stretcher with you lying on top. He felt his heart drop when he saw your face, pale with a brutal gash mirroring the one on Jack’s head.

“y/n!” The name ripped from his throat as he nearly scrambled to run towards you.

“y/n! Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Aaron begged as he stood by your side.

“Sir, please step aside so we can help her,” One of the paramedics told him.

He begged, “P-please, she’s my daughter,” Tears were streaming down his face, “Y/n, I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here,” He sobbed trying to take hold of your hand. It felt cold to his touch, you have lost too much blood, causing your body temperature to drop.

You stirred before your eyes fluttered open, “D- dad?” your voice croaked.

Gripping your hand tightly, “I’m here, honey. Dad’s here,” Aaron assured.

Gaze unfocused as your eyes stared ahead, “D- dad, you’re h-here?” You try to reach out. Aaron tried to smooth out the hair out of your face, his face coming into your view.

“I’m here, y/n.” He assured again.

“Dad… it hurts...” You cried, and Hotch felt like his heart had been stabbed. Your whole body was on fire and your breathing hurt. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the blood smearing your face.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But you’re going to be okay. They are going to help you, okay.” His reassurances trembled, knowing he should not make any promises given the condition you are in.

Before you could reply, your eyes fluttered shut before your grip slackened in his. He panicked, calling out your name, “Wake up y/n,” His calloused hand cupped your cheeks, a silent plea etched in his words.

“Don’t do this, honey. Open your eyes, y/n.” His voice, usually strong and steady, cracked as he choked back a sob.

“Step aside, sir.” One of the paramedics immediately rushed.

Right in front of him, he saw another paramedic insert a breathing tube into his daughter’s mouth to help you breathe. Aaron saw his world turned dark when the monitor connecting to your chest beeped rapidly, signalling the heart's struggle to beat rhythmically.

Hotch felt like he failed you.

He failed to protect you.

He failed to be the father you need.

“We are going to be taking your daughter to Georgetown University Hospital, sir,” The paramedic informed as the stretcher was wheeled into the ambulance. “She’s not stable, you can follow us in your vehicle,” He said sympathetically.

His fingers dug into the cold metal of the stretcher, refusing to let go. "I have to be with her," his voice rough with desperation. "Please, just let me hold her hand."

The paramedic's gaze softened, but his hands stayed firm. "She's losing too much blood, sir. Every minute counts. You'll be with her soon, I promise."

Aaron nodded and released his grip, a sob escaping his throat. Images flickered behind his eyes: empty birthday chairs, unanswered phone calls, a whispered promise to come home. How many times had he failed to be there? How many moments had slipped through his fingers, swallowed by the demands of work?

Haley’s pained voice, etched in his memory, morphed into y/n’s bloodied face.

How many times have you needed him but he wasn’t there?

How many times did he leave his family for work?

His knees buckled as he watched the ambulance drive into the night, flashing sirens blurring into the smoked air. His hands trembled on his side unable to control the weight of guilt inside him.

Emily’s voice cut through the fog, “Hotch,” No amount of words can offer him any comfort in that moment. She tried, nevertheless, “She’s strong, Aaron.”

He hopes so.

He really hopes that you’ll be okay.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner #bau x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #dad!hotch #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner

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zizzlekwum · 1 year

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Stranger In A Not-So-Strange Land

Masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

You work a case with Booth and Dr. Brennan, resulting in you and Dr. Brennan getting kidnapped by the Grave Digger. The BAU has to work with Booth to save you. Follows the events of Bones Season 2 Episode 9 “Aliens In A Spaceship.”

Trigger Warnings: mentions of blood

Word Count: 6,512

Tag List: @leftoverenvy @itsmeanobody @ctrljuls @theclassicgaycousin [if you want to be added to the tag list, please comment or send me an ask]

You’re at your desk at the BAU, researching crime statistics, when your phone rings. You flip it open and put it to your ear without checking the caller ID. “Y/L/N,” you say.

“It’s me,” Booth says over the other line, causing you to sit up. “You guys have a case right now?”

You shake your head, then remember you’re talking on the phone and he can’t see you. “Nah, I’m just sitting at my desk at Quantico. Why? What’s up?”

“We have a case,” he says. “You wanna meet me and Bones at the scene?”

“Absolutely, I have nothing else going on,” you say, standing and grabbing your backpack. “Let me just let Hotch know that I’m going to be doing a case with you guys. Send me the address.”

“You got it,” Booth responds. “See you soon.”

You hang up the phone and slip it back into your pocket as you head up the stairs to Hotch’s office. The door is open, but you still stop at the threshold and knock before entering.

“Hey Hotch, Booth has a case. I’m gonna go work it with them,” you tell him.

Hotch nods. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up in the meantime.”

You thank him and back out of the office, heading to the elevator. The drive to D.C. takes a little less than an hour, and by the time you pull up to the crime scene, you see Booth’s SUV already parked. You park and exit your vehicle, walking through the bushes and ducking under the yellow crime scene tape to meet up with Booth and Dr. Brennan. They’re talking to an officer.

“…superiors say to let you look at the flying saucer,” the officer is saying.

You choke back a laugh. “I can already tell you it’s not a flying saucer.” You nod to Booth and Brennan and introduce yourself to the officer. “Agent Y/L/N.”

“It sure looks like a flying saucer,” the officer says, turning to lead you to the alleged UFO. “Local kids dirtbiking, see something shiny poking from the dirt. They dig it out, look in the window, and see aliens..

“Did you look?” Brennan asks skeptically.

The officer nods. “Yes, ma’am, then called for backup.”

“Uh, why?” Booth asks.

“On account of, well, they are aliens.”

You share a look of disbelief with Booth and Brennan as you walk up to examine the strange, halfway-buried pod in the ground. Brennan bends down to look through the window first. “You guys wanna take a look?”

“Definitely,” you say, taking her place. Peering through the dirty window, you see two partially-mummified bodies. You move aside for Booth to have a chance to see.

He bends down. “Oh… are those what I think they are?”

You snort. “They’re not aliens, Booth.”

“She’s correct,” Brennan says. “They’re two adolescent human males.”

“How long?” Booth asks, moving over so Brennan can look through the window with him.

“The amount of dehydrated tissue suggests the tank is sealed and intact,” Dr. Brennan explains, then pauses. “Years, I’d say.”

Booth shakes his head. “Man. Two kids, huh? I liked it better when they were aliens.”

They both stand, turning toward one another. “I’m going to need the bodies sent to the Jeffersonian,” Brennan tells Booth, who nods.

“Got it. I’ll meet you guys there,” you say, turning to head back to your car.

* * * * *

Less than two hours later, the two mummified remains are laid out on the examination table inside the Jeffersonian lab. Zack and Dr. Brennan begin examining them as you observe.

“One set of remains shows trauma to the legs— compound fractures,” Zack reports to Brennan, “and his pelvis is broken in three places. The other is virtually untouched.”

“Cause of death?” Brennan asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“The amount of blood suggests at least one of them bled out,” Zack says. “Probably the one with the injuries. I’ve also noticed a constellation of identical non-metric variants. Extra foramina.”

“Identical,” you repeat. “Does that mean—”

“They were twins, right?” Booth interrupts. You, Zack, and Brennan turn to see him walking up the stairs to you.

“How did you know?” Brennan asks.

Booth holds up a picture of two identical teenagers with their arms around each other, each dressed in what appears to be a green soccer jersey. “Matthew and Ryan Kent. Kidnapped October 31, 2001. No one has seen ‘em since.”

“Probably because they’ve been buried this whole time,” you say as Booth hands the picture to Dr. Brennan.

“Typically I don’t like to make assumptions, but considering the circumstances, I’m inclined to agree,” Brennan responds, examining the picture. “We can match their dental records to be certain.”

Soon enough, you all get the confirmation that the remains are indeed those of Matthew and Ryan Kent, so you accompany Booth and Brennan to the DC FBI office to meet with the agent assigned to their kidnapping case, Special Agent Peter Sanders. You sit next to Dr. Brennan across from Agent Sanders and Kim Kurland, the AUSA assigned to the case.

Brennan slides a picture over to Sanders. “The remains in the beer vat have been positively identified at Matthew and Ryan Kent.”

“Oh God,” Sanders says, rubbing his face as he shakes his head.

“Come on, Peter,” Kim says, “It’s better than never knowing.”

“Agent Sanders, you were assigned to the Kent kidnapping?” Brennan asks.

“Uh, Mr. Sanders,” Sanders corrects her. “I, uh… retired from the FBI to pursue a career in general contracting. Uh, when I’m sober.” You hold back a wince of sympathy, knowing first-hand how tough this job can be. “Uh, Kim here was the Assistant United States Attorney attached to the case.”

“Still attached,” Kim adds. “The file’s still open. The boys were snatched after a drinking party.”

“Was the ransom paid?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Kim glances at Mr. Sanders before looking away.

“As the duly sworn representative of the FBI, I advised Mr. Kent not to pay the ransom,” Sanders explains, looking down at his hands. “Unfortunately, the Kents listened to me and not the K&R guy, and, uh, now their sons are dead.”

“K&R?” Brennan asks.

“That’s Kidnap and Ransom experts,” Booth explains.

“The Kent boys were the Grave Digger’s third victims,” Kim says.

“Third of the six we know of,” Sanders adds. “Uh, altogether, four paid the ransom and lived.”

“And the other one that didn’t?” Brennan asks.

Kim shakes her head. “Never found him.”

“That’s why they call him the Grave Digger,” Sanders says. “He takes people and he buries them. You pay the ransom and he tells you how to dig ‘em up. You don’t, and, uh, you never see ‘em again.” He looks at Booth. “You won’t catch him.”

“With all due respect, Agent Sanders, we have the beer vat and human remains.”

“What are two dead bodies gonna tell you that four live victims couldn’t?” Kim asks skeptically.

“Dr. Brennan— she’s pretty good at, uh, making dead people tell her things.”

Sanders waves his hands. “Look, my advice— talk to the K&R guy.”

“Kidnap and Ransom expert, Thomas Vega,” Kim adds. She pulls a book out of her bag, which is resting in the chair next to her. “Former FBI. He literally wrote the book on the Grave Digger.”

Brennan takes the book and examines it as Booth leads Sanders and Kim out of the room. When he comes back, he says, “I’m gonna call this Thomas Vega and get him to come down to talk to us. You two can wait here.” You nod as Brennan opens the Grave Digger book and begins to read.

A few minutes later, Booth comes back. “He said he’ll meet us at the Jeffersonian in half an hour,” Booth announces.

You stand. “I’ll meet you there then,” you say, taking out your car keys. You exit the room after waving goodbye and head toward the elevator.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you find yourself back at the Jeffersonian. You walk to Brennan’s office and sit down on the couch, chewing your lip. When Brennan comes in a minute later, you jump up. “Dr. Brennan, here.” You hold out a phone battery.

“What is this?” she asks, taking it and examining it.

“An extra battery for your phone,” you explain. “I’m hoping you won’t have to use it, but just go slide it between the seats in your car. Make sure it’s not visible, I don’t want anyone to know where it is unless they know where to look.”

“What? Why?” she says questioningly, giving you a confused look.

You shake your head. “I’ll explain later, just trust me for now.”

She slowly nods. “Okay, fine. I’ll be right back.” She turns and walks out of the room and you sigh.

Good. At least now when the Grave Digger kidnaps her, she’ll have a way of powering her phone other than rigging it to the horn of her car for a few seconds. You bite your bottom lip in nervousness, trying to think of a way to stop her from being kidnapped but knowing that’s what eventually leads to the Grave Digger being caught. You decide to just stay by her side until the case is over and try to watch out for her, but you’re not sure it’ll work. After all, you haven’t tried to change any event as important as this before. All you can do is hope.

* * * * *

A few minutes after Dr. Brennan returns, Booth leads the K&R expert, Thomas Vega, into the room, along with a dark-haired woman. You and Brennan introduce yourselves as they sit down across from you.

“I became a Kidnap and Ransom specialist after I realized that the Bureau’s policy on nonpayment to kidnappers is antiquated and dangerous,” Vega begins to tell us.

“You’ve dealt with the Grave Digger how many times?” Booth asks from his spot beside Brennan. You sit on her other side.

“In total? Five,” the woman next to Vega responds.

“Janine is a journalist,” Vega explains. “She helped me write the book on the Grave Digger. Next to me, she’s the ranking expert on that son of a bitch.” Janine smiles from beside him.

Booth steeples his hands in front of him. “Journalist, huh?”

Janine's smile grows wider. “Oh, don’t be like that, Agent Booth,” she says. “The Grave Digger is totally consistent. No one ever sees the victim taken. The ransom demand is made using a digitally-altered voice. A time limit is given. There’s never a second call. As soon as the ransom is paid to a numbered, untraceable account in Bahrain, the Caribbean, et cetera, GPS coordinates are provided leading to the victim.”

“None of the surviving victims remember anything before being taken?” Brennan asks.

“Nothing,” Janine replies, shaking her head. “Burn marks on the back of the neck suggest the use of a stun gun or cattle prod.”

“That’ll scramble your brains pretty good,” Vega interjects. “Also, when you try to trace whatever container the boys were found in, you… well, you’ll reach a dead end. He gets everything from landfills or cash auctions.”

“No last chance to pay up?” Booth asks.

“Never,” Vega says certainly.

You sigh. “I hate to say it, but it’s smart,” you say. “Most kidnappers are caught because they start negotiating the ransom with the police.”

“The Grave Digger simply won’t play,” Janine adds.

“Really not looking to help you write another book,” Booth says. “You know, Capturing the Grave Digger.”

Vega frowns. “Agent Booth, I have seen what this guy does to families, up close.” When Booth doesn’t respond, Vega shakes his head and stands. “You know what, dislike me as much as you want. But I’m still gonna help you because I want this bastard caught.” He and Janine leave the room as Brennan gives Booth a look.

“You were kind of mean to them,” she tells him.

Booth nods. “Yeah, thanks.”

You shrug. “I mean, you were.”

“All right, I get it,” he says, waving his hand. “Don’t you guys have a body to continue examining?”

Brennan stands. “We do.” You follow her out of her office to the examination table, where Zack is still working.

“Anything new to report, Zack?” you ask as Brennan takes a bone and puts it under a microscope.

“Not particularly,” he says, not looking up. You frown.

“Zack, did you catalog this anomaly between C1 and C2 on Matthew?” Dr. Brennan asks, still using the microscope.

“Yes,” Zack says. “If you increase magnification on the atlanto-axial joint, you’ll see calcining on the articular process.”

“What does that mean?” you whisper to Brennan, who looks up from her microscope to go to the computer next to her, pulling up a magnified picture of the bone onto the screen.

“Bone burn,” she explains.

“Yes, over 300 degrees,” Zack adds.

You wince. “Ouch. Does that indicate the use of a stun gun or a cattle prod, like that journalist said?”

“It does. Does the same mark appear on Ryan?” Brennan asks.

Zack shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay,” Brennan says, turning away from her computer screen to address Zack. “Get the FBI to send you photos and medical exam results of the Grave Digger’s victims. See if he uses the same stun gun every time.”

Zack nods and walks away as a beep announces someone else stepping up to the examination area. You turn to see Hodgins. “Aluminum,” he says.

“Aluminum?” Brennan repeats.

“The Brits say ‘aluminium,’ but it sounds, well… British,” Hodgins says. You hold back a laugh. “Manganese alloy, strain-hardened and stabilized. Traces on both sets of clothing.”

“From the vat?” Brennan asks.

“No, the inside of the vat is pure copper,” Hodgins replies, shaking his head. “Both boys’ clothing was stained with a sooty residue made up of lead and carbon, benzene and aldehydes.”

“Engine exhaust,” Dr. Brennan concludes.

Hodgins nods. “Yeah, particulates from lots of engines, both gasoline and diesel.”

“A parking lot?” you suggest.

“Underground, probably,” Hodgins says. “Think that’s where the Digger grabs his victims?”

“Compare your findings with the results found on the clothing of the surviving victims,” Brennan tells him. “See if they share anything in common. And measure oxygen volume in the vat. Find out how long the twins survived.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Hodgins says before turning and walking away, past Booth, who is entering the examination area.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“We’re interviewing Mr. Kent at the office,” Booth says. “You coming?”

“Of course!” you say. “I’ll ride with you guys this time.”

* * * * *

Mr. Kent arrives shortly after you do, with Thomas Vega behind him. You all sit down around the conference table. You sit to the right of Brennan, with Booth and AUSA Kim Kurland to her left.

“Mr. Kent, I’d like to start by expressing the Justice Department’s sincere condolences for the death of your sons, Matthew and Ryan,” Kim says.

“If I’d ignored the Justice Department and listened to Mr. Vega here— paid the two million— my boys would still be alive today.” Mr. Kent says.

“Sir, I understand your feelings towards the FBI—” Booth begins diplomatically.

“I doubt that,” Mr. Kent says.

Vega sighs. “Jim, Agent Booth here is investigating your sons’ murder. Now, you know my problems with the FBI’s approach to kidnapping, but when it comes to finding killers, you want these people on your side.”

Mr. Kent sighs, looking down before meeting Booth’s eyes. “Ryan and Matty were spoiled.” He chuckles sadly. “I know. They, uh, partied. They chased girls, they, uh, they got expelled from school.” Brennan’s phone dings and she looks down before sliding the phone over to Booth while Mr. Kent continues. “But they weren’t bad kids. And there’s no way that they deserved suffocation.” He pauses. “Is it… painful?”

Brennan shakes her head. “Like falling asleep,” she says softly. She takes a breath. “Mr. Kent, the Grave Digger lied to you and the FBI.”

“That’s unlikely,” Vega says. “He doesn’t play games.”

“Mr. Kent, is there any way you could’ve put together the ransom in twelve hours?” Brennan asks.

Mr. Kent immediately shakes his head. “No way in the world.”

“Which is exactly why the Grave Digger provided Mr. Kent with 24 hours,” Vega points out.

“His sons only had enough air for twelve hours,” Booth says.

“Oh my God,” Mr. Kent says quietly.

“Even if you had ignored the FBI and listened to Mr. Vega, you still wouldn’t’ve been able to save your sons,” Booth explains.

Vega shakes his head. “You’re backstopping for the Bureau.”

“There were two of them in that vat,” you say. “Their oxygen use was doubled. The Grave Digger screwed up.”

“No, he doesn’t do that,” Vega insists.

“Then it was never his intention that these boys survive,” Brennan tells him.

“He just didn’t care, Mr. Kent,” Booth says.

“So, my decision to listen to the FBI, to not pay the ransom—” Mr. Kent starts, his voice shaking, before his voice trails off.

“If you’d paid the ransom, your sons would still have been dead by the time you got to them,” Brennan finishes.

“There was nothing you could’ve done, Mr. Kent,” Booth adds. “You are in no way responsible for the death of your sons.”

After that, there’s not much left to say, and Mr. Kent and Vega leave. You follow Booth and Brennan back to Booth’s SUV and get in the back, heading back to the Jeffersonian.

“Has it occurred to you that God is a lot like the Grave Digger?” Brennan asks Booth. You snort.

“What?” Booth says. “What? What!?”

“He lays down the rules, no way to question Him or negotiate. Then it’s almost as if He doesn’t care how it works out,” Brennan explains. “Either you do as He says— make some sacrifices and they’re delivered— or you don’t, and you end up in Hell.”

“You know what, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say things like that because I really don’t wanna get struck by lightning,” Booth says, gritting his teeth.

“I mean, I get where she’s coming from,” you point out.

“I thought you believed in God?” Booth asks, incredulous.

“I do!” you insist. “I mean, I was raised Catholic. I don’t know if I’m still Catholic, per se, because like, they’re kinda hateful for people whose savior tells them to love thy neighbor— no offense, I’m not talking about you,” you add, for Booth’s sake. “But anyway, yeah, I still believe in God.”

“Then why would you say you understand her point?” Booth says.

“I didn’t say I agree with it,” you point out, “just that I can see why she’d say that.”

“Do you go to church every Sunday?” Brennan asks.

“I haven’t been to church since my own universe,” you tell her.

“I do,” Booth says.

“Can I come with you?” Brennan asks.

“No, you can’t,” Booth says immediately.

“Why not?” Brennan frowns. “It might help me to understand.”

Booth shakes his head. “I am not gonna help you disrespect God in His own house, okay? If you wanna do some kind of, you know, anthropological study, turn on the religious channel.”

Brennan shrugs, turning her attention back to the road. In a few minutes, you’re back at the Jeffersonian, where AUSA Kim Kurland is there with evidence from the Grave Digger’s other victims.

“Each of these containers contained one of the Grave Digger’s victims,” she explains as Booth hesitantly lifts open the door to a dirty, rusty old refrigerator.

“Cozy,” Booth comments, brushing his hands off.

“We also provided your people with the clothes each victim was wearing,” Kim continues.

“Regarding the clothing, every one of them shows traces of aluminum and sooty residue,” Hodgins tells Brennan.

“We know each victim was taken from an underground garage, beyond the reach of security cameras,” Brennan says.

“The typical kidnap-for-ransom profile is middle-aged,” Kim explains.

“Working a job he thinks is beneath him,” you continue. “Smart, but an underachiever who enjoys having control over other people.”

“There’s just one problem,” Booth says.

“What’s that?” Kim asks.

“See, there’s nothing typical about this guy,” Booth elaborates. “Don’t expect him to fit the profile.”

“As someone who also works alongside some of the world’s most elite profilers, I agree with Booth,” you say. “This guy seems to defy everything we usually rely on to catch them.”

“Guys!” Angela’s voice comes from behind us. You turn around to see her waving you to her office. “I reconstructed the scene.”

You, Booth, and Brennan walk over to Angela, who leads you into her office. The lights are off in order to better see the projection of the vat she has set up in front of her. “Okay, the dimensions of the vat— six feet wide by eight feet tall— make it impossible for Matthew Kent to have fractured his brother’s pelvis,” Angela explains.

“Even if Matthew knocked Ryan down and, you know, stomped on him?” Booth asks, walking around to examine the projection from the other side.

Brennan shakes her head. “Cam and I agree the fracture was the result of one hard blow.” Angela presses a button and the projection changes to show a simulation of the broken pelvis. “A break like that would require a lot more force than Matthew could have generated.”

“All right,” Booth says. “So you’re saying that Ryan was injured before he went into that vat.”

“Yes,” Brennan confirms. “But the amount of blood on the floor can’t be explained by his injuries alone.” Booth gives her a look. “What?” she asks, tilting her head.

“It was a mistake,” Booth says.

“What was?” Angela asks.

“Taking them both,” you explain, quickly following Booth’s line of thinking.

“Look, he intended to take one boy, but he ended up with two,” Booth continues.

Brennan sighs. “That’s why they died twelve hours ahead of schedule!”

“If he intended to take two boys, he would’ve put ‘em in a container twice as big, all right?” Booth says. “Y/L/N was right— the Grave Digger screwed up. He snuck up on Matthew, knocked him unconscious, whatever, and Ryan was there. He shows up, and he fought the guy.”

Brennan shakes her head. “No, Booth, not fight.”

Angela nods. “The leg damage, the fractured pelvis—”

“These injuries are classic human versus car,” Brennan explains.

“Ryan interrupts the kidnapping of his brother,” Booth says.

“And the Grave Digger runs him down,” you finish.

Booth nods. “It was a mistake. The Grave Digger is not God, Bones, because God does not make mistakes.”

Angela shakes her head. “Mm, I don’t know. Putting testicles on the outside doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”

You laugh as Booth sighs. “Well, I’m going to go home, get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“I’m gonna go see if Zack was able to figure out what type of stun gun was used,” you say, walking out of Angela’s office and over to what you unofficially call the Experiment Area.

“Any luck with the stun guns?” you ask Zack.

“No, not at all,” he says. “Commercial stun gun, 625,000 volts— still not enough.”

“Well, it sounds like a lot of volts,” Angela says from behind you.

“Actually, it’s the amperage that does the real damage,” Zack explains. “But still, I’ve checked every commercial stun gun I can find, and none of them generate the right amount of power to make those distinctive marks on the bone.”

“Well, what about a cattle prod?” Angela asks.

“Stun guns generate a lot more power than cattle prods,” Zack tells her.

“You haven’t figured out the stun gun?” Hodgins says, walking into the room. “Then I am this week’s King of the Lab, because I found something huge.”

Angela sighs and Hodgins freezes. “You compete to be King of the Lab?” she asks. You chuckle.

“Uh, no,” Hodgins scoffs. “Uh, hey, Angela, I didn’t know that you were….” He pauses and looks away, clearing his throat. “Well, this sucks. I’m gonna go catch Brennan, then bolt for the night.”

“She just left,” Angela says.

You curse. “Hodgins, stay here, I’ll get her,” you yell over your shoulder, running out of the room. You hear him question you but you don’t stop to answer, running out the doors and toward the parking garage. “Shit shit shit shit shit,” you mutter, hoping you’re not too late. When you get to Brennan’s car, you breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. Dr. Brennan!” you call, going to cross the lane to her car. Suddenly, you hear a squeal of tires and have just enough time to turn around before everything goes black.

* * * * *

The first thing you’re aware of is the pain in your legs. You attempt to move them and immediately regret the decision as a wave of pain travels up your body. You let out a groan, wincing.

“Y/L/N?”

You force your eyes open. It takes you a second to get your bearings; you’re laying across the backseat of what appears to be a car. Dr. Brennan is in the front seat, turned around to look at you, her face illuminated by the dim overhead light. You look down at your legs and see a mangled, bloody mess through the newly-ripped holes in your jeans. You groan again.

“Y/L/N, are you all right?” Brennan asks, climbing over the center console to the back seat. “Can you talk?”

You let out a moan and swallow harshly, your mouth dry. “Hurts,” you manage, squeezing your eyes shut.

She looks down at your legs. “Oh God, your legs. What happened to your legs?”

You force your eyes open. “Wh-where the hell are we?”

“We’re buried alive,” she says quietly. “He must’ve got us.”

“Huh?” you ask, your mind fuzzy.

“The Grave Digger,” she says solemnly.

You groan again. “Shit.”

“I was on my way to karate class, so we have lots of bottled water,” Brennan says.

“Well, that’s good, at least.” You pause. “Is… are we in your car?”

“Yeah,” she says. “The last thing I remember is being at the lab.”

“Why are my legs….” You pause. “Like that?”

“You were probably hit by the Grave Digger’s car,” she explains. She pulls the hair away from her neck. “I have a burn.”

“That’s right,” you say slowly. “Zack was trying to figure out what kind of stun gun.”

“It has to be the Grave Digger,” Brennan says. “He must’ve pumped you full of drugs to ruin your short-term memory, same as Ryan Kent.”

“How… how long have we been down here?” you ask, closing your eyes as a stab of pain runs through your head.

Brennan checks her watch. “Um, maybe two hours, I think.”

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“The Grave Digger is very consistent,” she says. “If we started with twelve hours of air, we’ll be unconscious in ten. After that, if… if no one pays the ransom….”

“We’re dead,” you finish. You curse again.

“Okay, let’s take stock of what we have,” Brennan says, climbing back into the front seat. You force yourself to sit up, grimacing when you jostle your legs. “We have water, towels, a mini-kit, ibuprofen, two cell phones with no batteries—”

“Wait,” you interrupt. “Didn’t— ugh, why can’t I think of words?!— didn’t I give you an extra battery?”

“That’s right!” Brennan exclaims, digging into the seat under you and retrieving the battery you gave her. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

You shrug apologetically. “I couldn’t think of a way to stop it, so I just tried to think of ways to make it easier to find you. I didn’t really expect to be in here with you, though.”

Brennan slips the battery into the back of her cell phone. The screen lights up and she laughs. “Y/L/N, you’re a genius!”

“Call… call Garcia,” you say. “She can… she can trace the call.”

“I’m going to call Booth,” she says, already dialing.

You nod, wincing at the motion. “That works too.”

She puts the phone on speaker and you both impatiently listen as it rings.

“Bones?!” comes Booth’s shocked voice. “Are you okay? Is Y/L/N with you?”

“I’m here,” you say.

“Booth, the Grave Digger kidnapped us,” Brennan explains.

“Yeah, we know,” he says. “I got a call about an hour ago.”

“Call the BAU,” I tell him. “Garcia can trace this call.”

“They’re already on their way,” Booth says. “How are you even able to make this call, anyway? The Grave Digger never leaves his victims with their phones working.”

“Y/L/N made me hide a spare battery in my car,” Brennan explains.

“Wait wait wait, so Y/L/N, you knew this was going to happen?” Booth accuses. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

You groan. “My brain hurts. Can I explain everything later?”

“She was most likely drugged,” Brennan tells Booth.

“Anyway,” you say, “what matters now is getting us out of here because my legs are currently mangled and I’m in a lot of pain and we only have a few hours and—”

There’s a commotion on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?” Brennan asks.

“Y/L/N’s team is here,” Booth explains. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone.”

“Y/N, my love, are you okay?” you hear Garcia ask, panicking.

“I will be once you trace this call and get us the hell out of here,” you tell her.

“I’m already on it,” she says.

“Y/L/N, what do you remember?” Hotch asks.

“We don’t remember anything about the kidnapping,” Brennan answers for you. “I was attacked with a stun gun and Y/L/N was hit by the Grave Digger’s car and pumped full of drugs to ruin her short-term memory.”

JJ’s voice comes next. “Oh my God, Y/N, you were hit by a car?”

“My legs are… not doing all that great,” you confess, groaning.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got their location!” Garcia announces excitedly.

“You hear that, Bones?” Booth says. “We’re coming to get you. Just hang in there.”

“We’re about an hour away,” Hotch adds.

You groan again. “My leg,” you gasp. “The pain is getting worse.”

“Here,” Brennan says, setting the cell phone down and handing you the ibuprofen and a bottle of water. “This should help.”

You quickly swallow two pills, then a third after half a second of deliberation. You chug down half of the water before capping the bottle. You lay your head back down on the seat and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.

“I’m worried you might have compartment syndrome,” Brennan says slowly after a minute.

“What’s that?” comes Booth’s worried voice.

You curse, opening one of your eyes to look at her. “I’ve watched enough medical shows to know that’s not good.”

“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head. “And it’s gonna get painful.”

“How bad?” you ask, already dreading the answer. “Worse than this?”

She nods. “Yeah.” She pauses. “Slip-into-shock-and-die painful.”

You hear Booth curse. “Will she be fine until we get there?”

Brennan hums her assent. “She should be, as long as you don’t take too long. But she’ll need immediate medical attention.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Bones,” Booth says. “I’ve already called in the cavalry.”

The next few minutes go by in flashes as the pain slowly gets worse. Booth keeps the two of you updated on his movements until he finally says, “We’re here. It’s just a big, empty coal quarry.” You hear muffled voices around him before they suddenly become clearer, telling you that Booth put you on speaker phone again.

“We don’t see any indication of where you are at the moment,” comes Hotch’s voice. “Sit tight while we figure something out.”

You moan, causing Brennan to look over at you in concern. “How long will that take?” she asks.

No one answers for a few seconds. “There’s a lot of ground to cover,” Booth says finally.

“She might not have that long,” Brennan says as you moan again. She bites at her bottom lip. “I may have a solution.”

“What?” Booth asks.

“The explosives from the airbags,” she says. “If we’re less than four feet beneath the surface, it’ll blow us to freedom.”

“But if you’re more than four feet below the surface, it could kill you,” comes Reid’s voice. He sounds stressed.

“Y/L/N could die anyway,” Brennan points out. “It may be her only shot.”

“Bones, are you sure about this?” Booth asks.

Brennan looks to you, and you give her a nod. “Yes,” she says simply, moving to dismantle the airbags. A few minutes later, and she turns back to you. “We should get as far away from the explosion as possible.”

You force yourself to sit up. “Um, Dr. Brennan, I already am.” You pat the spot next to you and she clambers over the center console and sits. You hold out your hand and she takes it.

“Guys?” you say hesitantly. “You still there?”

“We’re still here,” Hotch confirms.

“Just in case this, uh, you know— doesn’t work,” you say, “I want you to know that it’s been awesome getting to know you. I… I love you all.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Booth insists.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Brennan repeats, squeezing your hand. “Don’t you know that?”

You nod. “Yeah, but… just in case.” You look at Dr. Brennan. “Ready?”

She nods. “Let’s do this.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as she touches the wires together.

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. You’re covered in dirt and you can’t move. You hold tightly to Brennan’s hand, hoping and praying that your team could see the explosion and can dig you out before you suffocate.

You’re beginning to get light-headed when Brennan’s hand leaves yours, and you experience a moment of pure panic before someone else grabs your arm and pulls, and your head breaks the surface of the dirt. You gasp in a breath, shaking, and rub the dirt from your eyes before opening them.

You’re surrounded by everyone important to you. Prentiss wraps her arms around your torso and pulls, dragging the rest of your body from the dirt as Booth does the same to Brennan. Hodgins, Angela, Cam, and Zack are there, as are Hotch, JJ, Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and Gideon. Garcia is crying. Hodgins and Angela are holding hands. Reid is inspecting your legs, and you groan as you’re reminded of the pain.

You hear a siren wailing in the distance, growing louder as each second passes, and through the pain you vaguely recognize an ambulance pulling up behind you. The rest is a blur of motion as you’re loaded onto a stretcher. Garcia rides with you to the hospital, where you’re finally given adequate meds that make you drowsy. Within minutes, you’re out cold.

* * * * *

You wake to a vague throbbing sensation in your leg. You bolt upright as everything comes rushing back to you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Morgan says, gently easing you back down. “You’re all right.”

“Is— is Brennan okay?” you ask quickly, eyes wide.

Morgan nods. “She’s already home. She wanted to stay, but Agent Booth insisted. The rest of the team is in the waiting room, along with Angela and Dr. Hodgins. We’ve been taking turns waiting for you to wake up.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. “How long has it been?”

Morgan glances at his watch. “A few hours. You’ve been out of surgery for about two now. I’m gonna go tell the doctor that you’re awake.”

He leaves the room, and a minute later, a man in a white lab coat walks in, introducing himself as your doctor. After examining you, he tells you that you shouldn’t have any permanent damage, though you will need to be on crutches for a little while as your leg heals. You’ll also need to do some physical therapy as your leg is healing, but he assures you that most of it can be done at home. He finishes by asking if you’re ready for visitors. You tell him to please send them in.

“Oh, thank God!” Garcia exclaims as everyone walks through the door, rushing forward to give you a gentle hug. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

You laugh. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“How are you feeling?” JJ asks.

“The painkillers are doing their job quite nicely,” you assure her.

“I gotta say, this is a new one for me,” Prentiss says. “Never had a colleague be buried alive.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It’s a bit strange, even for us.”

“Don’t make a habit out of surprising us,” Hotch says with a small smile.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Angela tells you.

“Hey, back at the lab,” Hodgins says slowly, “when you told me to stay there, that you would get Dr. Brennan—”

“I knew,” you confirm. “I didn’t want him to get you too.”

Hodgins sets his jaw. “Thank you,” he says quietly. You give him a small smile.

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Reid asks. “We could’ve helped prevent it.”

You sigh. “I figured the Grave Digger was gonna kidnap Dr. Brennan either way,” you explain. “At least this way I knew she would be okay.”

“You took a big risk,” Gideon says.

“I had faith,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, I already knew the outcome, how much of a risk was it really?”

You all chat for a few more minutes before it occurs to you that they’ve all probably been up all night. “You guys need to go home and get some rest,” you tell them. Garcia and Reid begin to protest, but you shush them. “I’ll be fine here, really. The painkillers are making me tired, anyway. I’ll probably just sleep until I’m allowed to go home.”

“We’re not leaving you here alone,” Morgan argues.

“Fine, one of you can stay,” you allow. “But whoever stays is going to park themselves in the chair next to me and sleep. And the rest of you can go home.” They begin to discuss who is staying with you. “Not Hotch,” you add. “You go home to Jack and Haley.” He gives you an appreciative nod.

In the end, Garcia convinces everyone to let her stay, with the promise that someone can come relieve her in a few hours. You say your goodbyes as everyone slowly files out of the room and Garcia settles into the chair next to you.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” she asks after everyone has left the room.

You shake your head, smiling at her. “Nah, I’m good. Just get some rest. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

She smiles at you. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she says softly.

You close your eyes and pull the blanket up to your chin. “Yeah, me too.”

NOTE: This is one of those angst reasons I was talking about, but not the only one.

35 notes · View notes

lovesclinic · 3 months

Text

UNPROFESSIONAL ┊late at night, you and hotch get unprofessional

✧˖*°࿐ hotch x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, use of sir, praise

It was late into the night, the third day on the the case when you heard a knock on your hotel room door. "Hey, um, sorry I'm coming to you so late"

You looked at him, surprised by the knock but curious. You opened the door, slightly nervous as to what he wanted at this hour. As the door opened, you saw him, looking down, already dressed in his pajamas. "What's up, boss?"

He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours. "I want you to come with me." He said, with a dominant tone that hinted at something more.

You followed him, wondering what was going on. As you entered the room, you saw that it was dimly lit, with a large king-size bed dominating the space. He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaning against the door as he took in your curious expression.

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I just...I need your help on something. We're on a case, and there are some things I can't quite figure out. I trust your eye for detail." He paused, taking another deep breath. "Can I trust you?"

“Of course," you replied without hesitation, already sensing the seriousness of the situation. You stepped back, inviting him into your room. He closed the door behind him, still looking uncertain. You moved towards him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the prospect of helping him with the case. You followed him into the room, where he handed you a stack of files. "I need you to make sense of this.

You walked him over to the table where you kept your notes and evidence from the case. You picked up a picture of a crime scene, pointing out certain details that had caught your eye. As you talked him through it, you noticed him growing more and more tense.

He looked at you, his gaze penetrating and serious. "I need your help to make sure things are done right. The team's safety is at stake. Can I trust you to help me?"

It's late, and I know we shouldn't be doing this, but I promise, it's important." He pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you. You could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

As he walked past you, his hand brushed against your lower back, a soft dominance that sent shivers down your spine. "Let's sit down," he suggested, guiding you to the couch.

As he moved across the room, he kept his eyes on you, studying your body language. He moved behind you, his hands reaching around to grasp your hips, pulling you close against him. He leaned in, his lips close to your ear. "I need you to focus on the details,"

“Sit down, I'll be right here," he instructed you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. As you began to go through the files, you could feel his presence looming over you—a mix of soft dominance and anticipation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I see what you mean," he finally said after some time had passed. "This changes everything." He took a deep breath, his mind clearly racing with implications. Then, without warning, he rounded on you—not aggressively but firmly.

"Thank you", he murmured gratefully, his voice thick with emotion. You moved closer, pressing your body up against his, your hands sliding around his waist. You could feel the tension easing from his body, replaced by a warmth that spread between the two of you

You sat down beside him, feeling the warmth of his body as he leaned into you slightly. You opened up your laptop, ready to help him with whatever it was he needed. The case file appeared on the screen, and you began going through it carefully, pointing out details that caught your eye.

"Why didn't you bring this to my attention sooner?" His voice was calm but held an edge of frustration. Despite the tension in the air, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of arousal and fear from his dominance.

“I need you to understand something," he said forcefully but quietly. "This is important. If we don't solve this case, people could get hurt." His eyes bored into yours, challenging you to meet him halfway.

Hotchner watched you intently, his gaze never leaving the screen as you navigated through the case file. The room felt charged with an electric energy, both from the intensity of the case and the closeness they shared.

You met his gaze steadily, swallowing hard. "I... I wanted to be certain before involving you," you admitted, trying to maintain your composure. "I didn't want to distract you from the other aspects of the case."

He pulled you closer, one hand sliding up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips met yours, and you moaned softly, feeling his desire for you.

"I know you're dedicated," he continued, "but we have to be smart about this too. We can't afford any mistakes." His voice was steady, unwavering—a testament to his leadership skills.

As you looked back into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. His intense gaze seemed to penetrate deep into your soul, demanding honesty and commitment.

That's interesting," he murmured, leaning in closer to get a better look at what you had highlighted. You could feel his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I'm with you," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes."

“You're so fucking sexy", he whispered against your lips, his voice husky with desire. You nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned, deepening the kiss. His hands wandered over your body, teasing and exploring.

"I know you're working hard," he added, softening his tone slightly. "But we need to work smarter too. We can't afford to miss any more crucial details." His voice was low and steady, carrying an unspoken trust in your abilities.

you felt the heat burning between you, your bodies pressed together, aching for a release. Your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it off his hips. He gasped as your fingers encountered his semi erect cock, already leaking pre cum.

"You were right to be cautious," he acknowledged, taking a step closer to you. "But next time, don't keep something like this from me." He gave you a penetrating look, making you feel both small and impossibly vulnerable under his intense gaze.

As the kiss broke, you gasped for air, your heart racing. You looked up at him, your eyes locked on his. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want you so bad", he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You returned his kisses with equal fervor, your hands exploring his body just as eagerly. You pushed him gently against the wall, pinning him there as you continued to kiss him passionately.

You couldn't find your voice, unable to look away from him as he loomed over you. His dominance was palpable, yet there was an undercurrent of something else—something deeper and more complex.

"I... I understand," you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. You couldn't help but feel his dominance intensifying, making you both aroused and scared in equal measure.

You broke away from the kiss, trailing kisses along his neck and collarbone. Your breath hitched as his hands slipped under your shirt, tracing patterns on your bare skin. You pulled him closer, and he obeyed, pressing his body fully against yours.

You felt the heat between your legs intensify as he pushed you up against the wall, their bodies flush together. He teased your ear with soft kisses and whispers, "I need to see how much of a good girl you are."

His hand moved down to your thigh, gently pushing your panties aside. He took a step back, still holding onto your shirt, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His eyes met yours, filled with lust and anticipation.

You arched into his touch, needy and eager for more. You bit your bottom lip, trying to control the whimpers that threatened to escape as he continued his teasing. "Yes, sir", you whispered back, feeling a thrill of anticipation and submission coursing through you.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continued to watch you. You couldn't wait for him to take you; you wanted him inside you more than anything else in that moment.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. Taking a shaky breath, you nodded slightly, giving him permission to proceed. His fingers traced along your folds, teasing the sensitive skin before finally entering you.

You watched as he stepped closer, his fingers tracing along your sensitive folds. You arched into his touch, needing more. He smiled, his eyes darkening. "You're so wet for me," he whispered against your skin.

“Good girl", he praised, his voice rough with desire. He reached down, undoing your pants and pulling them off in one swift movement. He smirked at the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers tracing the outline of your sex through your panties.

“Come here, baby," he commanded softly. You obeyed without hesitation, moving closer to him until you were pressed against his hard length. He groaned softly, and his hands slid up your back, holding you tightly against him.

“So fucking wet for me", he growled lowly, his fingers moving in and out of you with a skillful rhythm. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss while his other hand gripped your ass, pulling you closer to him.

He pushed you down onto your knees, feeling his arousal against your back. His hands found the button of your jeans, and he unbuttoned them slowly, knowing it would drive you crazy with anticipation.

“I'm going to spank your pretty little ass now." His words were like a soft command, his dominant side showing through. You felt a mix of fear and excitement as he spanked your ass, each slap echoing through the room.

Despite the sting, you moaned, unable to hide your arousal. He smirked, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. "That's it, baby," he growled, his fingers finding their way inside you.

"I want to hear you moan, baby." He whispered, nipping at your collarbone. You moaned softly as he moved his hands under your skirt, sliding his fingers over your bare flesh.

As the spankings continued, you couldn't help but moan out his name. It felt both punishing and arousing. He pulled you back against his hard length, grinding his hips against your ass. "That's it,"

You bit your lower lip, trying to stifle your cries of pleasure as he began to thrust deeper into you. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive entrance, teasing before finally pushing inside. He groaned, filling you up slowly.

He slid a finger inside you, watching your face as he slowly began to thrust. You moaned, rocking your hips back into his hand. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and dirty.

he growled into your ear, "show me how much of a good girl you are." His fingers found their way back to your slick folds, teasingly rubbing against your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

You moaned as he touched you, pushing closer to his fingers. He gripped your thighs, lifting you up and onto the nearby desk. He spread your legs, exposing your moist pussy to his touch. "You're so fucking eager,"

Feel how much you turn me on." He groaned, nipping at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, and it excited you even more.

"Please, do you", he said, pushing closer still, his cock rubbing teasingly against your panties. You moaned, reaching back to grip his shirt. "Say it," he purred, pressing his lips to your neck. "

You panted, your heart racing as he continued to tease. "I'm yours," you whispered, biting your lip. He growled low in his throat, a mix of desire and possession lacing his voice. "That's my good girl."

With one swift move, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands moved to your panties, sliding them down your legs as he stepped out of his own pants. Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hard length pressing against your slick folds.

“Now, let me hear you beg for it." He purred, slipping a finger beneath your panties. You arched into his touch, moaning softly. "Please, Aaron..." you breathed.

You gasped, arching your back as he slipped his fingers under your silk panties, tracing patterns on your bare flesh. "I...need...your..." you murmured, barely able to get the words out between gasps.

"Your what, baby?" he asked, nipping gently at your earlobe. "Do you need me to touch you here?" he asked, his fingers brushing against your clit through your panties. You shuddered under his touch, your breathing ragged.

“Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "Please, I need it." He chuckled softly, pulling away from your ear to look into your eyes. "You're such a good girl."

"Please," you cried, pushing against him. "Touch me." Aaron growled in approval, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs, freeing your throbbing clit from its confines

"Tell me," he urged, his voice low and demanding. "Tell me how much you need me." You whimpered, feeling your body tremble with anticipation. "Say it," he ordered, his fingers moving faster, teasing your sensitive nub.

With that, he slid his fingers deeper into your panties, finally touching your clit directly. You screamed out his name, your body bowing off the floor under the intensity of his touch.

He groaned lowly, his fingers finding your clit immediately. He started to massage it gently, circling his index and middle finger around the tiny bud. "Tell me if it's too much,"

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, his lips at your earlobe, his breath warm against your neck. You buried your fingers in his hair and arched against him, whimpering. "Fuck... I need... your cock..."

"I... I need you so much," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. His fingers stopped their teasing dance, instead pressing firmly against your clit. "Aaron," you moaned, arching into his touch. "Please, I can't take much more."

"I need you...to..," you moaned, arching into his touch. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing the lace of your panties. "Please," you begged, your voice breaking.

Aaron felt you trembling beneath him, his fingers moving faster against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his other hand moving to grip his cock firmly through his pants.

He reached between your legs and pulled your panties down, lifting your hips up so that he could access your pussy. His fingers sought out your clit, circling it gently at first, then more roughly, his free hand holding your waist to support you.

With a low growl, Aaron picked you up and pinned you against the wall, their hips grinding together. His other hand slid under your skirt, slipping your panties down your thighs and tossing them aside.

"Perfect," he purred, gripping the waist of your skirt firmly and sliding his finger across your slick entrance. You moaned, the noise a mixture of need and anticipation.

“So fucking tight," he groaned, thrusting his fingers deep inside you. You gasped at the intrusion, your walls gripping his fingers tightly. "You're mine," he growled, his mouth finding your neck once more.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice trembling. He smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. With one swift motion, he lifted your skirt and pushed your panties aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

His fingers traced your entrance, teasing and prodding gently. "You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. With one swift motion, he pushed past your folds, penetrating you deeply. You gasped, feeling him fill you completely.

His hips met yours in a rhythmic dance, their bodies slapping together with each deep thrust. His other hand found one of your breasts, massaging and pinching the nipple, sending shivers down your spine. "Feel how much you own me,"

His hips started to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he thrusts rhythmically inside of you. Every inch inside of you felt like heaven, and you found yourself meeting his thrusts with moans and gasps of pure pleasure.

“Fuck," he groaned, pulling back slowly before pushing back in again. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, arching into his touch. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh fuck," he growled, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. You could feel him building inside you, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls.

Their bodies moved together in a primal dance, fueled by lust and need. His mouth found yours, claiming it roughly as his hips pistoned faster. You tasted his desire on his lips, mirroring the feelings coursing through your veins.

As he felt you nearing climax, he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming almost violent. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your moans turning into pleasured cries. Finally, he felt the telltale tremors within you, signaling your orgasm.

“Fuck, I'm close," he gasped, picking up the pace. You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders as the intensity of the pleasure built inside you. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his hips pumping faster.

“Oh fuck," he growled, pushing your back against the wall. His hips moved in a blur, his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy. You could feel him getting closer, the way his hips pumped harder, faster.

The heat of his skin against yours, the roughness of his hands on your hips, it all combined to send you spiraling out of control. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on.

Then, with a final, deep thrust, he came inside you. His cock pulsed, filling you completely as he let out a long, low moan of satisfaction. His body shook against yours, their combined weight holding you against the wall.

"Harder," you cried, your voice hoarse with desire. He obliged, thrusting into you harder, deeper, his movements growing more frenzied. You felt the beginnings of your climax building, the tingles in your core turning into a burning need for release.

With one final thrust, Aaron buried himself to the hilt inside you, groaning loudly as he came, his seed shooting deep into your womb. You moan loudly, your own orgasm ripping through you, body shuddering under the intensity of the pleasure.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, his cock slipping wetly from your pussy. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, their breaths mixing in the air. His heartbeat was racing, his chest rising and falling rapidly under your hands.

As he regained his breath, he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were intense, boring into yours as if trying to see something deep within you.

With a groan of completion, Aaron thrust into you one last time, his hips slamming against you like a pounding heartbeat. You cried out as your body shuddered in ecstasy, your orgasm taking you completely by surprise.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I'm yours." His hands slid down to your hips, holding you gently but firmly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thrusts became even more frantic as he reached his own climax, filling you with his hot seed. He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming into yours in a rhythm that felt primal and forbidden. This was addicting—too addicting.

Finally, he stilled, his hips still pressed against yours. You were both panting heavily, his sweat mingling with yours on your skin. You looked up at him, feeling a wave of desire wash over you again. "More," you breathed. "Please. Again."

Fuck," he groaned, collapsing against you. You panted heavily, your heart racing. You knew you couldn't let this happen again. But god, it felt so good.

Hotch's breathing was ragged as he finally pulled out of you, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on your inner thigh. He rolled off of you, still panting heavily.

He thrust one last time, and cried out, his voice raw with pleasure. You heard him grunt in satisfaction as he pulled out of you, his soft cock pulsing with each thrust. He held you close for a moment, his heart hammering against yours.

He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I shouldn't have done that," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's against protocol." The admission only seemed to make him look more vulnerable.

"It's too dangerous," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our lives are complicated enough without adding this to the mix." His dominant exterior resurfaced, masking the vulnerability he'd momentarily shown.

As you accept the files, a mix of concern and determination etched on your face, you assure him once more that you'll do your best. "I'll go through these thoroughly, Hotch. I promise."

His hands trailed slowly down your back, stopping at your hips. "You feel so fucking good," he mumbled, his breath hot against your ear. "I don't want this to end."

414 notes · View notes

forhappysake · 4 months

Text

Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought.

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard.

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well.

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?”

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand.

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course.

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall.

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam.

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident.

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall.

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work.

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.”

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?”

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. “Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.”

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad.

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet.

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own.

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised:

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon. -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up.

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place.

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him.

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip.

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-”

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval.

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice.

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete.

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim.

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked.

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers.

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.”

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality.

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful.

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.”

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation.

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions.

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.”

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress.

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.”

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face.

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you.

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go.

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you.

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?”

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.”

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear.

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door.

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest.

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands.

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress.

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled.

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly.

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said.

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?”

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit.

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head.

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit.

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did.

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you.

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt.

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.”

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered.

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed.

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act.

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.”

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you.

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.” You agreed.

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him.

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?”

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice.

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again.

��God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged.

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt.

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle.

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?”

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

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tereresrock · 1 year

Text

early seasons reid? i wanna kiss him

late seasons reid? i want HIM to kiss ME

know the difference.

#aaa #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #behavioral analysis unit #bau #jennifer jareau #david rossi #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jason gideon

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cupidddd-d · 6 months

Text

you waste your time on daft pretty boys

in which spencer reid is so smart, but he's so dumb!

if you had a quarter for every time you tried flirting with spencer reid and he obliviously rebuffed your attempts, you'd have enough money to buy a yacht.

at first, it started with you innocently brushing his arm when you had to walk past him. you'd make eye contact with him across the room. he thought nothing of it.

and then you purposely wore a pair of shoes that were practically falling apart, all so you could fall into his arms and bat your eyelashes at him as he caught you. he caught you, but he immediately set you back on your feet, almost as if he was afraid to touch you for more than a second.

"you should be more careful," he laughed, somehow still completely clueless to the fact that you were putting the moves on him.

"i mean, i don't get it! i've been flirting with him all week, and nothing! why isn't he just taking the hint?" you complained to morgan as you slumped down in your cubicle.

spencer being late only ever happened once in a blue moon, but he was late today. and you needed to take full advantage of his absence to pester morgan for advice.

"honestly, you're wasting your time here. if you're not going to be direct with him, he'll never get the hint. the kid's like a robot," morgan shrugged, twirling his pen in the air.

"it's true," prentiss agreed as she walked by, overhearing your conversation. "his iq gets slashed to nothing when it comes to romance. you need to be upfront with him."

"but it's so embarrassing!" you whined, dropping your head on your desk with defeat. "what if he rejects me?"

"the answer's always gonna be no if you never ask," prentiss raised her eyebrows at you knowingly.

you groaned dramatically at her words, weakly slapping your desk a few times to further express your point. "fine, but if he rejects me, i'm changing my name and moving to costa rica. i'll start a new life, and you'll never see me again!" you threaten them both, pointing your index finger at them.

"yeah, yeah," morgan smirked smugly, interlacing his hands behind his head as he leaned back.

"shut up, baldie!" you retorted, just because you had to get the last word in.

"so...spencer," you say awkwardly, standing over his cubicle. everyone except hotch had gone home, and you two were the only ones still working in the bullpen.

"yeah?" his smile was so sweet and so welcoming, but it had never intimidated you before the way it does now.

"um, okay. so basically morgan and prentiss were telling me to be upfront with you because i've been flirting with you like, this whole week, and you haven't gotten the hint yet. spencer, i think you're a great guy, and i really like being around you. do you maybe...want to go out sometime? as a date?" you rambled nervously, feeling a hot blush creep up your cheeks.

you watched spencer fumble for words for what seemed like hours. his mouth parted, then it closed again. he just blinked at you, a little squeaking noise coming out of his mouth as he blushed red, from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"y-yeah, i'd like that! l-like, a lot!" he squeaked, turning a lovely shade of fire engine red. "w-we could w-watch um, a movie! does f-friday work? c-cool, okay!"

he dashed off before you could say anything, but friday did work for you, so you just stood there in disbelief.

"yeah, cool, okay..." you echoed, a giddy smile on your face.

#gender neutral reader #criminal minds #bau #gn reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #derek morgan #emily prentiss #hotch

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daydreamingqueen1 · 7 months

Text

Puppy eyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader (can be seen as platonic too)

Warnings: none. fluff, spencer being a bit of a germaphobe, no y/n, pretty sure is gn reader too

Summary: Spencer Reid vs puppy, need I say more

Word count: 1.3k

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It's the best day ever.

Your day had started pretty normal to be honest, you would even say it was kind of shitty since you had missed the subway you usually took for your daily commute to the BAU.

But, as wiser people say: Everything happens for a reason.

Because as you are making your way to work, your ears catch the soft sound of a creature whimpering. Trying to find the source, you give a couple tentative steps with your head turning from left to right like you are a hunting hound.

Ironically, behind the decorative bushes that surround the FBI building entrance, you find the origin of the sound.

It's not a hound but it's close enough. It's a puppy.

A beautiful, chocolate spotted puppy.

"Oh my god, sweetie, come here!" you gush automatically, your hand extending gently to reach for the animal currently crying between the bushes and the wall.

The adorable puppy looks up at you a bit hesitant at first, big brown eyes meeting yours. It gives a sniff to the air, checking the scent of your palm from afar, you almost squeal from how cute it looks.

Then it wags its tail.

You make kissy noises to coax him closer, your voice getting two tones higher, "Come here puppy!"

It works because soon enough it walks out of its hiding spot and nuzzles into your palm eagerly, tail wagging from side to side.

You practically lunge to grab the poor thing, "Look at you! You are so cute!"

The puppy doesn't seem to mind your cuteness aggression though, its fluffy body melting on your arms when you scratch behind its long ears, "You're coming home with me."

Best day ever.

But you can't just ignore your responsibilities and walk back home to stay with it, and it wouldn't be sensible to leave such a young puppy alone in your apartment either.

So you do the next most reasonable thing.

Your smile almost takes up your whole face when you walk out of the elevator with the puppy in your arms.

Penelope spots you first, immediately dropping the files on her hands on a random desk to come rushing to you, "Oh my god! Oh my god! It's that a puppy my eyes are seeing?!"

You giggle, pretty much vibrating with joy at this point, "Yes, isn't it the cutest thing ever?"

"Aww, my heart can't deal with this!" she cries, hands fanning herself dramatically.

"Where did you get it?" Prentiss chirps in, hers and almost every other head in the bullpen looking up from their desk to look at you. Well, at the puppy.

You keep walking into the office with Garcia looming all over you, "It was crying outside. This little thing was all alone in the bushes."

A hoard of agents are suddenly surrounding you, eager to get a closer look.

"You'll have to look if it belongs to someone," Morgan says, which makes you instantly pout.

"It doesn't have a collar, idiot," Emily argues quickly, "Such a profiler you are."

"I wanna keep it," you smile brightly, "I think it's a boy."

You turn the puppy onto it's back.

"Yep, definitely a boy," Morgan chuckles, he attempts to pet its head but the creature recoils in your arms, clearly overwhelmed at the amount of people.

Noticing the puppy is a bit scared, you pull back from the crowd, only then you notice a certain agent who remains seated on his desk.

“Don't you want to see it, Spencer?” you ask eagerly.

He shakes his head, his body leaning away slightly, “I can see it from right here, don't worry.”

“Oh, come on Reid, don't tell me you are afraid of dogs,” Derek never loses a chance to tease him.

Spencer gives him a flat look, “I'm not scared of dogs, I’m just aware of the amount of diseases they can transmit to humans.”

You tsk your tongue. “But he's so cute, and it doesn't look like it has rabies or anything,” you look down at the dog while approaching his desk, talking directly at it with a baby voice, “Tell me, do you have rabies, little puppy?”

It just stares blankly at you. Proof enough. “See?”

Spencer, ever the statistics expert, begins his rant, “Well, actually, rabies is not the most common disease dogs can carry, nor the only one. Illnesses that pass between animals and humans are known as zoonotic diseases and a 2007 study based in Finland shows that noroviruses are one of the leading causes of diarrheal diseases among people of all age groups and that these can survive in dogs and be passed along to– Please don't get that thing any closer.”

You chuckle at the panic look Spencer gives you when you reach his side. Truthfully, you aren't going to make him touch the puppy if he's uncomfortable with it, but a little bit of teasing is at the order of the day, “Oh, really? Come on, holding it for a second won't kill you.”

You pull the puppy up next to your face and give him your best puppy eyes, mimicking talking as the puppy, “Please? Am I not cute enough to pet?”

Spencer gives you a long look, “Yes, very cute.”

Forcing down your blush, you extend the puppy to him, “Then pet it.”

He presses his lips in a line, his hands coming up defensively as he rolls backwards on his office chair, “I think I'll pass.”

You chuckle and are about to back off when the puppy squirms in your arms, leaping out from your hands.

The scene unfolds in front of your eyes almost in slow motion. You watch how the pup flies in the air, its short body extended as a superhero.

Spencer catches it, thank god.

“Oh, no,” he squeaks when he realizes what he's done, holding the puppy as if it were about to explode, panickedly starting to name every possible disease, “Pasteurella, Salmonella, Brucella, Yersinia enterocolitica, Leptospira–”

His alarmed ramble gets interrupted by the enthusiastic puppy licking up his cheek.

You freeze for a moment, expecting him to die from a heart attack.

Spencer giggles.

“It's giving me kisses,” his face scrunches up adorably at the onslaught of affection, “It tickles, buddy.”

You can't help the relieved laugh that escapes your lips, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to have to wash my face with antibacterial soap though,” he chuckles as he puts the puppy down on his lap, away from further kisses.

Oh, and you've just fucked up so bad because your heart gets squeezed inside your chest at the endering sight of Spencer and the puppy staring at each other.

“You are right, he's cute,” Spencer turns to smile at you, the animal's tail wagging incessantly.

You fucked up good.

“Aww, look at you two,” Penelope says excitedly, “It even looks like you, Reid!”

Your gaze shifts back and forth from your coworker to the creature on his lap. Penelope has a point, you can kind of see the resemblance. The puppy has long ears with soft, brown curls covering them that look similar to Spencer's long hair. The cute, hazel puppy dog eyes go without saying.

Morgan snorts, “Babygirl, you are right, it kind of looks like the kid.”

You pick up the puppy and smile, “Seems like I got myself my own mini Doctor Reid,”

Spencer is about to say something back when Hotch’s office opens, both him and Rossi entering the bullpen.

“Agent, please tell me that's not a dog you have there.” Hotch gives you a stern look.

“It is not, sir,” you answer, smiling apologetically and holding the puppy closer against your chest.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Everyone to the meeting room, we've got a case.”

The puppy lets out a tiny bark, and you make your way to the meeting room before Hotch can tell you anything else.

Spencer sits next to you on the round table and whispers against your ear as everyone is filling in, “I'll help you take care of little Doc here if you decide to keep him.”

Not even the gruesome details of the case are enough to sour your mood.

Best day ever.

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yep, this was inspired by all of the MGG pictures with puppies. I am weak.

leave me a prompt if you want!

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

#spencerreid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal minds #bau team #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #drabble #spencer reid blurb

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