So I genuinely don’t remember much about the twins in canon, but I have this general idea (possibly controversial) that the entirety of the character depth and specific personalities that we associate with either brother are solely informed through decades of fanfic writing and community. Like, George being the quieter, more sensitive twin. Or Fred being the twin that is more likely to “act now, think later.” I love the dynamics, and, though I love them both and switch back and forth, I’m definitely a George girlie. But from what I remember in the books, the twins are kinda just a caricature of the concept of “twins.” Thoughts???
Hi love! Yes i definitely agree with you that most of their individual characteristics have been forged through fanfics whilst in the books they really are simply ‘twins’. I think there were definitely examples of them having slight differences, like George offering help to Harry with his trunk and Fred sometimes being the slightly more outspoken ‘voice’, but the contrast is minimal. I may be wrong, but I’m sure that Fred has a lot more spoken dialogue and mentions across the books, which fuels that idea of him being more outspoken, being that he’s mentioned more and thus perceived as the dominant twin. I think the narrative that George is softer is simply because he’s mentioned second, and perhaps less, than Fred which became its own construct when the fanfics got a hold of the idea!
I think the movies are what truly created the discourse that the fanfics have taken and ran with, mostly because James and Oliver have both different personalities and characteristics that make their version of the twins separate entities. For example in the movies, Fred often speaks first where George speaks second, giving more explanation. Like in GOF with the portkey scene. Oliver’s George often looks slightly softer, where James plays into Fred’s total mischief, giving them a slight contrast. I’m thinking the tent scene in GOF for example, where Fred legit smirks when Mr Weasley begins to panic about it not being the Irish at the Q World Cup. There’s also a few scenes where Fred looks slightly aggressive or unimpressed (like the GIF below or OOTP), which seems to set them apart slightly in how we read them. That may not be the correct way of describing the ‘look’, but I can think of a few scenes where Fred’s expression is harder than George’s.
For me as a writer, often writing them both, I’ve definitely forged my own HC about them, most notably the differences between them. I wanted them both to have their own distinct voices and relationship styles, though still keeping enough similarities that they feel true to the original characters.
I may be wrong, but that’s my take on it! (Clearly I have a lot of thoughts here and I apologise for the mini essay). I’m intrigued to hear other opinions!
Imagine dating the Weasley twins and them being so infatuated with you that there’s a framed photo of you with the title ‘employee of the month’ proudly displayed above the till in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.
Please update your vulnera sentura if I spelt that wrong sorry 😂, I love your work and that is my favourite series it sooo good ❤️
Hi love! Thank you so much for your support! I'm so glad you enjoy the series. I've actually just posted a new one-shot following on from the last instalment, which you can find here.
HI EME! it's me again,hi and hello,of course I'm gonna another twin fix but a different set of twins involved this time,and of course as per usual it's always gonna Vulnera era,my favorite fix you have made (thank you for making it,I love it,to the point it's not love rather a obsession I can't stop. HAHHAHAHA and that's not even exaggerating).
Back to my ask,it's about Fin and Griff,the two rebellious twins,who clear as day and fresh water took after their twin father's. I want them to be in the same fate,HAHAHHA,like them falling for the same girl in their house. But this time,unlike George and Fred,they don't tell each other that they like the girl,rather,keep it to themselves because they just be possissive like that(seen the actions from their fathers,whenever a man gets to close to their mother,either in public or even at their own family members,HAHHAHAHA).
They don't tell each other,and when summer break comes,their father of course,as father's. Ask about girls,and if any of them like someone,and of course Fred and George ask it at dinner time. And when the two miniature twins,Said the same name at the same time (I kinda like the name,Jiovanna,I don't know why but I low-key like it. But,still,you're making the fanfic,you're choice. I'm grateful for you,and take care)
Back to the asks again,HAHHAHAHA. the twins start arguing,I don't know how to write a arguement scene,but,the ending is. That both walk out,the other twin goes to their share room and the other just goes to the closed shop go take a few breaths. And of course,the reader tells Fred and George to talk to them each,and find a way to solve it
You write the extra scenes, because I really don't know how to write compromising and arguing scenes. It will just end up being corny, HAHAHAHAHHA.
When they both cooled off,they made a deal,they'll be sharing the girl. And end up the same fate as Fred and George. Time skip to Hogwarts,they ask the girl out,extra scene ,extra scene,you want to add. The boys end up dating her,and,of course. At the end,they end up together,cuddling with her in bed,fast asleep. They both talk saying,"good thing we shared,dad and dad,just know what to do huh?" All that yaddy yadda,extra scene,extra scene. HHAHAHAHAH that's over all the end,and the end of the story,it's you and the twins,all smiling and talking,while you hold your new born Weasley in your arms. As you watch the twins,throw snowballs at each other,with their girlfriend who came with them on winter break.
Thank you for noticing this ask, Eme. I'm so sorry it's so long,and it's probably not even a drabble from how long it's gonna end up,but it's ok if you don't wanna do it. It's totally fine,I'm just giving out my suggestions to you. LOVE YOU GIRL! YOURE FOREVER ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE! BYE EME,GET WELL SOON! SENDING GOOD HEALTH AND STRENGTH! MORE HEARTS! 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
My love, I am so sorry it's taken me so long to get this back to you. You know how greatly I appreciate your love and support and I feel awful that I haven't completed this before now. I'm finally happy with the way this turned out and can't wait for you to read it. Thank you again for all your love and support, it truly means the world to me! Sending a huge amount of love as always, enjoy!! Em 🖤🖤
2.3.k.- Mentions of pregnancy, babies, throuple, polyamory, polyamorous dynamics. History repeats itself. Reader is just trying to survive having 5 of Fred and George's children. Mild angst and mild swearing, teenage angst.
Please note, this fic is a one-shot based upon my series 'Vulnera Sanentur', a 14 part series loosely following the events of DHP1&2 + the epilogue.
This piece can be read alone, though it follows on from another one shot entitled 'Vulnera Repetere', which may give more context.
Vulnera Sanentur Masterlist
Vulnera Repetere
Fred, George and Reader have 5 children. Aurora (Rory), Twins Finn and Griffon, Henry and a newborn.
Vulnera Redire
"Griffon Frederick Weasley, slow down or you're going to choke!" You say as you watch your son practically gulping his food down. He mumbles a brief 'sorry mum' with a mouthful of food which makes you cringe but he does slow down slightly after the warning.
"Ooh full name," Finn smirks from beside him, delighting in his brother being scolded. He coughs as Griff elbows him in the shoulder, knocking the fork out of his hand which clatters onto the plate loudly.
He at least has the decency to look guilty, though you know from years of experience that he's not even slightly remorseful, much too like his fathers in that respect.
"When are the dads gonna be done?" Rory asks, grimacing at her brother's eating as she forks her own meal.
"The dads?" You ask with a smile, amused by the phrase. She smiles a little shyly and simply shrugs.
"I'm getting a little old to call daddy, well, daddy. So it's dad and dad but that's just confusing."
"Funny that, I don't think they've invited another word for the second dad yet. If mum had only chosen one," Finn snarks.
"Hilarious, maybe I'd have had less children," you bite back, scooping another helping into Henry's plate.
"Not like we know which one's our actual dad anyway," Griff says, somewhat grumpily. You pick up on his tone instantly, so different from the joking that the other kids had used.
"Does it matter?" You ask, appearing neutral though you felt that tightening in your chest that this would erupt into something else, something deeper and unexplainable.
"No," Griff says quickly, looking up to give you a sheepish smile, knowing that he's toed a line. "Just making a point, but I lost the point of it."
"Maybe we should just call them Gred and Forge now we're older, that's their names right?" Finn says, looking much too like Fred in his smirk.
"What about mum?" Griff adds in delight.
"Well she's just mum."
"Oh charming!" You say, raising your eyebrows at your children.
"No! I mean we only have one you," Finn back peddles, a blush forming on his cheeks.
"Hmmm," you say, holding back a smile.
"So how's school?" You ask, gently steering the conversation away from your unconventional relationship.
"Rory's got a boyfriend!" Griffon shouts much too enthusiastically. You try to not react, as to not set her off.
"Griffon!" She shouts back with wide outraged eyes. "It's none of your business!"
"You're my sister, and he's a tosser, it is my business!"
"I'm your older sister, it's definitely none of your business!"
"What difference does that make?!"
"And he is a tosser," Finn backs up his twin.
"I think that's enough," you say gently. "I'm sure he's lovely."
"You don't know him mum," Griff says, earning a slice of bread being thrown at him across the table from Rory.
"I should have been a magizoologist," you grumble, shaking your head.
"What about you two? Any one special, seeing as you're so concerned with Aurora's love life."
"Only one girl for me," Finn says proudly whilst Griffin whips his head around, clearly new to this news too.
"You don't have a girlfriend!"
"Not yet," Finn smirks, taking a swig of his drink.
"Who is it?" Rory asks in disbelief. "You actually found a girl stupid enough to be with you? Is she partially sighted?"
"Aurora Rose!”
“She’s not wrong,” Griffon chimes in, realising only a second later that he’d inadvertently offended himself too.
“She’s the fittest girl in school, liked her for ages,” Finn says proudly.
“Hardly, you used to fancy Polly whatsername,” Rory snorts. You cast a glance at Henry who’s watching with eager anticipation, not knowing a single person they’re talking about but wanting to be included anyway.
“That ship sailed long ago,” Finn grumbles, casting a glance at his brother. “Now it’s…”
“Well she’s not fitter than J!” “It’s J!”
Silence follows for a few unbroken moments before chaos erupts. Like a coin had been flipped, the silence is immediately broken by loud angry voices talking over each other, most of their sentences mirrored by the other with perfect synchronicity like their fathers.
“She’s mine!” Both boys say at the same time, growing ever more defensive as they each proclaim their interest in the same girl.
You know you need to shut this down before it turns truly ugly but you’re lost on how. You remember how intensely you’d felt about Fred and George at their age, you still felt the same, but unlike other adults you were not dismissive of their emotions and the relationships they formed at school, knowing that the wizarding world and their boarding situation lead to stronger bonds and therefore more intense feelings.
“You git!”
“Why would she ever look at you? I-.”
You don’t get the chance to say anything before Finn is suddenly marching away from the dinner table, ever the hot-headed one of the two. You cast a look at Griffon who seems to be toying with the idea of following his brother but thinks better of it, instead standing and marching up to his bedroom in the opposite direction of his brother.
“Remind me never to ask again,” you mumble absently, turning back towards Henry to make sure he was okay after the raised voices.
“Wasn’t your fault mum,” Rory says. You shoot her a small smile as you stand, clearing the boys plates from the table with a long sigh.
“It happened again!" Finn says as he bursts into the back 'invention' room of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes where both of his dads are sitting tinkering with new products. Both men look half concerned and half shocked by the sudden intrusion, leaning more towards concern as they look at the devastated expression on their oldest son's face.
"It happened again!" He repeats, throwing his arms up in the air.
"What happened?" George asks with concern, placing his wand down on the desk.
"Sorry, wrong dad," Finn huffs, turning his attention towards Fred.
"It happened again!"
"You realise I'm the one with two ears right? Heard you before," Fred says with a gentle smirk, trying to diffuse the building tension as his son starts to look more irate, enjoying the roll of George's eyes.
"It happened again!"
"Heard you the first three times, what happened?"
"Me and Griff, we like the same girl!"
"What happened to Polly?" Fred asks with a frown.
"Polly as in Polly-Molly, bossiest woman to exist since grandma?"
"Polly-amory not for you then?" Fred jokes.
"To think you've made a career out of being funny and that's the best you can do," Finn shakes his head as he throws himself down onto the spare stool in the corner of the room.
"Griff overheard her talking about Albus to some Slytherins, not very nice things by all accounts and he dumped her," Finn explains, rubbing his hands together as he stares down at them.
"Go Griff," George praises absently, half listening to the conversation he's not sure he's part of.
"Yeah so everything was fine until J got fit."
"Happened overnight, did it?" Fred states cheekily, now opting to blatantly wind up his son rather than be of any actual help.
"Might as-well have," Finn mumbles.
Later on that night after apologies had been mumbled and sibling relationships had been smoothed over, a moment so normal in their life but so significant to their future catches the attention of the younger twins.
Their parents on the sofa, one dad with his arm around their mum whilst she feeds the baby whilst their daddy covers her legs in a blanket, placing a cup of tea down on the table for her. A kiss is placed to her forehead, a hand placed delicately on her thigh whilst the other set of hands gently squeeze her shoulder soothingly. It’s inconspicuous, unremarkable to most but there’s something in that moment that resonates with the boys. It’s so natural, the way the three of them operate together, like three puzzle pieces that fit perfectly in place, three cogs that work perfectly together. It works as two, but not quite as efficiently, not on the same level that the three of them together do.
It’s in that moment that the brothers share a look, realising the very real possibility of what could be.
“Your parents make it work,” J says as she looks between the twins with a hopeful look, paying close attention to Griffon who is sporting the hint of a frown. It’s past curfew, naturally, and the three had snuck down to the black lake to discuss their options after the tense week they’d faced since admitting their feelings to one another.
“They work at it, dad told me it's not always easy but it's worth it,” Finn says, bending down to throw a stone into the lake.
“Which one's your dad again?” The girl asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Two ears, the one who looks most like Finn,” Griff says, hardly able to tear his eyes away from the beautiful girl before him, thinking that she’d never looked better than she did right now in the glow of the moon.
“I don't know how your mum does it, your dads look completely identical,” she says with a shake of her head.
“As opposed to us, who look nothing alike?” Finn smirks.
“Clearly I'm the better looking one though,” Griff adds.
“You're both gorgeous, and both idiots,” she retorts with a laugh, laughing even more as they both pretend to tackle her. There’s a moment that follows between the three of them, quiet and unassuming and yet poignant, where the three of them look at each other and know that there would be no choosing. It simply wasn’t an option, just like the three that had gone before them blazing a trail so they could follow. It would be the three of them together.
“Think they'll make it work?” George asks from beside you, all three of you crowded around the kitchen sink as you watch your twins and their girlfriend playing in the snow during winter break. She was a lovely girl, polite and friendly, you were already quite fond of her. She kept the boys in line, mostly, and she reminded you of yourself at that age, a wondrous thing.
“Who knows, don't think anyone expected us to work out,” you say absently, watching as the three of them construct a snowman with Henry in the garden.
“Yeah well now look at us,” George smirks, turning his attention towards you and the new baby you were cradling in your arms.
“I don't think anyone doubted us to be honest,” Fred says gently, suddenly sounding wise and sentimental.
“You never know, maybe one day they'll be standing exactly where we are watching their own twins falling in love with the same girl,” Fred adds, his eyes blazing at the thought.
“You make it sound like a generational curse, to be honest with the mischief you two have caused I wouldn't question it,” you snark, reaching out to stroke back the little tuft of hair tickling the baby's face.
“You’re forgetting something sweet girl, you married us,” Fred croons, pulling you closer to him.
“You're stuck with us,” George mimics him, both of them enclosing you.
“You secretly love the mischief, I know you do,” Fred says cockily, teasingly, always with that trademark smirk.
“And we love you.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it, Weasley.”
“You mean our newborn baby in your arms isn't enough evidence? How many children do we need to give you woman for you to realise we’re absolutely infatuated with you? Or rather, how many times do we need to knock you up for you to realise you love the chaos? An entire quidditch team of mischievous Weasleys that remind you of your husbands?”
“Only two more and we’d have our own team,” George adds, smiling down at you when you look up from under your lashes at him with a mock glare.
“This one is still fresh out of the oven and you’re already thinking of more?” You ask with a tone of disbelief as you look at both of your husbands.
“Thinking of trying for them at least,” Fred smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.
You roll your eyes but you can’t hide the smile that graces your face, not having a comeback for him. Instead you turn your attention back to the kids in the garden, your husbands doing the same as the tension lingers between you all.
You grimace as you see two of them snogging against the newly built snowman, grabbing at each other with their gloves and layers blocking them.
“Well that’s enough to put anyone off,” Fred says, pulling a similar face of absolute disgust at the sight.
“Reckon the hose pipe has frozen up? I’ve half a mind to do it,” George says, earning a chuckle from you.
“As long as the layers stay on, I don’t care. There’s no way I’m being made a grandma already.”
“Not when we’ve still got two more to have ourselves. Weasleys’ Wizard Weaslings,” Fred says, eyes looking delighted at his own joke. George snorts and you fight to hold back a laugh at the ridiculousness of his suggestion.
“They could wear orange and purple, and advertise the shop on their robes.”
“You’re going to buy 7 broomsticks and all the robes and equipment?” You ask doubtfully, shifting on the spot gently as the baby in your arms begins to fuss.
“Only the best for my Weaslings,” Fred beams.
George grumbles beside you, his hand slipping from your hip, apparently having been keeping an eye on the throuple outside much more closely than you and Fred had been.
Send me your Weasley Twins thoughts!! I would love to do a bit of a Q&A, have a little chat, listen to some opinions (the controversial the better!) about our boys 🧡💜
I’m trying to catch up on my requests and I’m feeling very inspired, ready to dive back into writing my favourite men. I’d love to hear from you all 🖤
What’s your favourite scene? Your favourite line? Who’s a dom and who’s a sub? Is the long hair their best look? Yes. Is Angelina a greedy bitch? Anything you wish they’d added from the book? Send me all your thoughts!!
I’m not sure if anyone else will see the vision but I feel like Fred and George give Gomez Addams vibes here and there. I’m not entirely sure how to explain it but idk, I just needed to tell someone because I can imagine them saying something about how it’d be blissful if you tried to throw an axe at them or whatever 😭
Hi love! Yes! Omg yes this is so them! They’d 100% love their partner’s spirit, completely without thought to any and all consequences or danger, just blind faith in their person. It’s mischief and chaos personified. They’d be so devoted to their person and encourage all their weird little interests, especially if it relates back to them in some way. I actually wrote this piece a while ago for a request which presented them as the Gomez Addams type, which I love.
Endlessly supportive, unashamedly in love, equal partnership and respect, playful and completely devoted? Sign me the fuck up.
Plus, Gomez Addams is actual goals for me. I actually have him and Morticia tattooed so I feel very strongly on this topic haha! 🖤
Hiya I don’t usually comment much but in this case I absolutely had to! I just finished No Good Deed and it left me speechless. You really came through for the George girls with that one🤭 Jokes aside I fell in love with your writing style AND with the way you characterize everyone so perfectly??! I’m curious to know if you’re planning on writing more George x Reader series or just more about George in general. Have an absolutely amazing day!!🩷
Hi Anon! Thank you so much, that is so kind of you to say and I’m so sorry for taking so long to reply!! I’m so pleased you enjoyed the story, I had a lot of fun writing it. Definitely more George coming but it’s more one-shots and requests rather than full series at the moment. I hope you have an amazing day and thank you again for your very kind words 🖤
I don't know if you're currently accepting applications; if not, I'm very sorry to bother you
But lately on TikTok I've seen a lot of compilations of babies coming out to greet their parents when they get home from work, and I found it so sweet. I need something of the Weasley twins being greeted by their baby, even though they literally work downstairs.
English is not my language and I don't know if I made myself clear
Hi Anon! Sorry this has taken so long to complete for you, I hope you enjoy! 🖤
2.k.- mentions of pregnancy, kids, marriage, polyamoryish, dual marriage, fluff, tooth rotting love. Slight breeding kink if you squint at the end. George and Fred and reader have a daughter (unnamed).
Not Easy
You couldn't exactly categorise your life choices as easy. Sure, falling in love with your best friends had been as easy as breathing, as natural and effortless and growing taller but it hadn't exactly been easy. Being their best friend was exactly the easiest choice either, especially not if you were trying to keep your head down and actually took your education seriously but somehow you'd managed to accomplish both. You'd fallen in love with two men in equal amounts, torn and divided between the two at first before accepting that you would never be able to choose between them. The three of you had accepted that you would be completely entwined and with a little research and a lot of courage, you'd blazed a trail and forged your own path in life, committing to each other as a three. There were doubts, whispers, cruel misunderstandings that lay ahead of you but there was also a lot of support from the people that truly understood, that truly saw the love between the three of you. It hadn't been easy.
Setting up a joke shop and keeping it booming during a war, then in the recession that followed and then what you were affectionately calling the 'renaissance of the wizarding world' once life had settled into a new normal. It hadn't been easy.
Moving in with your boyfriends, reckoning up sleeping arrangements and trying to remain equal in your affection and spending time with them once you were no longer restricted by a school timetable or by parental involvement wasn't an easy thing to do. Boundaries were crossed, jealously flared and very occasionally there were arguments around favouritism and even once an admittance of doubt whether the relationship could actually work.
But you persisted, realising that you were over complicating matters by over thinking. Nobody needed set days, nobody should feel guilty for needing some time alone or some time with the person they loved one to one, there would be no guilt, no separate bed and no scheduling, you'd just default back to exact as it had always been. The three of you.
Uncomplicated in the most primal way, it wouldn't even be you and Fred VS you and George, it would be the three of you. Sure Fred and George loved each other in a brotherly, twin kind of way but they both loved you. It wasn't a competition it was a team. That part was easy.
You'd gotten married, to both, finding a loophole in the magical law for special cases such as yours where the bond between the three of you was considered to be one of ancient magic. Easy in principle, harder in reality. But it had been worth it, you were happier than ever and the marriage that came out of that wedding was perfectly easy.
And then three became four. For a brief moment at one of your appointments there was the chance of five, but luckily for everyone involved the twin gene had not passed on this time and instead you were blessed with one perfect little baby. Paternity didn't matter, it couldn't be determined who was the father regardless due to their genetics and so both became equal fathers, not half of one but two whole daddy's to a very lucky little girl.
Loving your daughter was perhaps the easiest thing you'd done in life. It was primal, biological, set deep within your soul to love this little one. Motherhood was hard no doubt but it was worth it, loving her was the easy part. Your life was everything you'd ever wanted, every dream had come true that you'd had since the days of having a girlish crush on the two boys that made you laugh in class and the boys you could barely take your eyes off at meal times.
What you hadn't factored it however, in your grand plan of your life was that you were having a child with Fred and George Weasley. That your child would be an accumulation of both of them, regardless of the biological paternity. She'd had the same mischievous glint in her eyes practically from birth, her needs and her ways keeping you on your toes. As the months drew on and she began developing her personality, it was clear to everyone that she had almost certainly taken after her fathers in her love of chaos and mischief.
Daddy and Dada were unquestionably her favourite people on the planet. You weren't sure at first that she actually knew there were two of them and not just one that seemed to be everywhere she looked but it appeared not when she developed a preference for George. It then flipped to Fred after two weeks of her demanding George and then it had settled into being both of them respectively.
Unfortunately for you, the mixture of her personality and her preference for her dads meant that at all hours of the day you were acting as guardian of the door that lead between your apartment and the shop. Practically as soon as little miss could crawl, she was determined to make her way towards the door in a great escape style plan and it didn't take long to figure out why she was so desperate to escape the plush comfort of your apartment that held literally everything a baby could need.
Daddy and Dada were downstairs.
Living above the shop had been an easy decision, the 'commute' as Fred called it was blissfully short, they were on hand for an emergency, and of course they owned the entire building so it was a natural choice of living situation. And it was easy, until little miss started understanding that her daddies were just a staircase away. One or both would often pop in multiple times a day to check in and for cuddles that they said recharged them for the rest of the day. They'd come back to have lunch with you both and they'd often steal her away to proudly show off to the customers, which she always delighted in. She loved the shop, the sights and the sounds elicited delighted squeals and belly giggles that were your favourite sound in the world.
So on those slow days when it was just you and little miss, after the morning trips out or during rainy days when you didn't want to leave the comfort of your home, she often got a little impatient for her daddies to reappear. She's make for the door, announcing her demand that she wanted one or the other of them and try with all her might to get to them. She never cried, never showed displeasure in being with you but she was certainly frustrated that she couldn't open the door herself. When she started pulling herself up into furniture, the pre-walking stage before she took her first steps, you suspected it was all done so that she could eventually reach the door handle.
It had been a long day. George and Fred were busier than ever after launching a new range of products and the whirlwind that always followed their releases. George had made a quick stop to come visit you both late morning, stopping for only a few minutes to kiss you both and to check in. He said Fred would follow as soon as he could catch a break but it had never materialised, he just hadn't found the time. The weather was miserable and you weren't up to leaving the flat, so you'd done activities with little miss all day, the afternoon dragging on even after her very short and very reluctant nap.
Around 3pm you noticed her getting antsy. No longer placated by her toys and books, no longer distracted by the activities you were doing, you noticed her gaze drifting to the door in front increasing amounts. She'd cried when George had left to go back to work and you knew she would only get upset if you took her downstairs to see them and then take her away after a while, plus it really wasn't fair when they were so busy to distract them.
You offered her snacks, did some messy play and then an early bath to kill some time but you could tell she wasn't truly placated.
And then the sound of footsteps on the staircase alerted your attention, and you knew it had captured the attention of your daughter. You held her in your arms and walked towards the living room where she could see the door and watched as her hands began flapping in sheer delight as the footsteps got louder. You could barely hold her as she started wiggling in your arms, so desperate to see her daddies that she was practically jumping in your hold.
The first sight of bright red hair had her squealing in delight and you changed your hold on her to pass her along, grabbing her under the arms to hold her out.
You burst out laughing as you watched her gleefully squealing for her daddies and so desperate to get to them that she was running mid-air, her legs frantically cycling as if she's been running all her life as you hold her out for your husband. Fred scoops her up dramatically, laughing with her as she spins with him, her little hands grabbing at the collar of his jacket.
It's one of those moments that you stop for a moment to allow it to sink into your forever memories, the kind of moment you want to remember with exact detail on your death bed. Fred catches your eye and winks, smiling at you before focusing his attention on the little girl in his arms that demands his entire attention. You feel yourself flood with love as you look upon the scene, falling in love all over again with Fred by the way he's so effortlessly a wonderful dad.
A hand at your hip makes you jump, so transfixed by the scene before you that you'd entirely forgotten about your other husband.
He plants a kiss on your head from above, his hand resting on your hip as he smiles down at you, happy to hang back a second before inevitably reclaiming his place by his daughter.
"Long day?" He asks gently, rubbing your side as you both watch Fred spinning your daughter faster and faster in his arms.
"Better now," you say, leaning into him and allowing yourself to feel the fatigue you'd tried to ignore.
And then George is spotted by a pair of eyes much similar to your own. Her squeals begin again as she frantically reaches for her other dad with a much enthusiasm as she had Fred, her little fingers desperately reaching out for him. He chuckles, patting your bum as he steps away to reach for his daughter. Slightly exhausted from Fred's movements, she quickly settles into George, tired from her day of playing and the warm bubbly bath, he rests her head against his shoulder, sinking into him. Much like you, she sees the extra softness in George that Fred has a little less of and cuddles into him without any hesitation. He kisses her hair, nuzzling into the small tuft of suspiciously red hair that looks much like his own in tone, no doubt smelling beautifully fresh from her bath.
Fred moves toward you now, pulling you into his arms with a not so gentle tug, throwing his arms around you to squeeze playfully.
"Missed you," he mumbles against your hair, making you smile into the material of his suit jacket.
"Not as much as she's missed you," you joke, looking up at him with such warmth you can practically feel it exuding from you. He chuckles, resting his chin on the top of your head.
"It's not easy being away from you both all day," he admits quietly, stated with such honesty that it sounds like a confession. "It's not easy but it's all worth it when I walk through the door. I don't know what I'll do once she stops being so excited to see us like that."
"Hmm," you say, shifting to look up at him with a cheeky smile. "Maybe a dog?"
"Or we knock you up again," George suggests cheekily as he steps closer, inserting himself and the snuggly little girl into the conversation.
"Excellent idea," Fred says with a devilish smirk as he reaches out for you to pull you closer into his chest, "let's start now."
Hi anon! I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, this ask got buried in my many, many requests. Here are my thoughts, and entirely my own opinion, feel free to disagree, I’d love to hear your thoughts!
I definitely had an older Fred Weasley in mind for this because I feel that it’s something he would grow into over time, definitely post-Hogwarts but maybe even post-war because he lived.
My own HC is that Fred is naturally a playful, soft dominant, it's just his nature. He's cheeky and endlessly teasing whilst being the one who's typically always in control. He thrives off the power he has over you because of the pleasure it gives you. It's a pride thing really, knowing that he can rip such sounds and sights from you that he's addicted to it. Endlessly mischievous.
He guides, instructs and commands with almost equal softness because he knows you respond to that much better than straight command or punishment. He's intimidating enough with his sheer size and strength that the natural power play between you tips in his favour without needing total control. The only none negotiable is that you are his, and that cannot be threatened.
But
At his core, beneath the playful demeanour and the appearance of control, he's a complete simp. He's completely smitten, completely in love and has absolutely no desire to hide that fact. This naturally translates to a man who thrives knowing that you're his both in the bedroom and out, the possessive side of him as natural as breathing. This fact often presents as taking control and reminding you that you're his. But very occasionally, he shows that he's actually more of a switch in that he's so desperate for you, for your touch, for your attention that he becomes entirely submissive to your actions.
Sometimes the burden of responsibility is too much for him. He doesn't want to think, he just wants to feel. He needs your touch like it's a lifeline and quite honestly he'd agree to anything, do anything just to feel you on him. He's softer then, not as intimidating or as powerful as he usually is, just a man willing to give you anything you need in the hopes you'll reciprocate in giving him pleasure too. Surrendering control isn't easy, sometimes he has to be handled carefully, easing him back into submitting when his control flares after being teased mercilessly which is almost certainly karma for his previous actions.
He secretly loves edging, though he denies the fact in the moment when he's frustrated and writhing beneath you emitting the most desperate, pitiful sounds as you deny him over and over. But when you finally allow him to cum, in that moment when everything else ceases to exist and that white hot heat permeates throughout his entire body, when he cums so hard that he's not in control over a single inch of his body, he's beyond words. He erupts like he's been storing it, his orgasm acting like a confession, like absolution for his previous mischief. He floats away with a look of complete bliss on his face and you know then that he loves it. Loves to drag things out, to be occasionally denied and to submit to you.
You know he likes to see you take control. He encourages it actually, his eyes watching you like he can't believe you're real. He loves you in all forms but this, this is something else entirely. This is a version of you that only he gets to see, that only he gets to experience and if that isn't enough to make him light headed then there's nothing else that would do it. He praises you endlessly, telling you how good you are, how sexy you are, but it's done in such a way that is a completely juxtaposition from how he praises when he's in control. It's not said in reaction, or as praise for you following his orders, it's said because he can't help himself. You can pull any thought out of his head when you look at him with those eyes, give him that look.
He's not crazy about being praised in the traditional submissive way. He doesn't want to hear he's a good boy, but you can always launch him closer to the edge by telling him how good he's making you feel. It's about you in that situation, about your pleasure, and knowing that he's making you feel good, that he's the one that has your eyes rolling back and your mouth unable to close is enough to have him on the edge.
But, and it's a big one, this power play, the side of him that occasionally breaks through the outer surface is strictly kept in the bedroom. It's a secret shared between the two of you. It's his secret reset button encircled in a boundary of trust between the two of you and he does not allow anyone except from you to see that vulnerability. Everyone knows he's pathetically in love, always has been, that part he couldn't care less about because knows he is. But this is different, this is yours. Your secret sub.
Based off the episode 'Minimal Loss' S4X03. Reader takes the place of Prentiss. Full disclosure, I saw a Tiktok edit of this episode set to this song and became obsessed but Tumblr won't let me tag it for some reason. I've tried to write this like an episode of CM, so there are perspective shifts and different POV's, all separated by dividers.
Song: California Dreamin’ by The mamas and the papas.
6.3k.- Secret relationship, BAUAgent!Reader, yearning, violence. Hostage situations, cults, themes of religion and religious manipulation. Child endangerment. Guns. Extreme violence and dark themes. Character death. Mentions of injury, physical assault, broken bones and blood. Reader is assaulted by Cult leader in chapter 2. Mentions of suicide and mass suicide, please mind the tags, No sexual assault featured. Loosely based on the real events of Jonestown, please mind the trigger warnings. Explosions, gunshots. Hotch is sad (briefly). Spencer is so f*cking cute, I love their friendship. BAU Team finding out about their relationship. Kind of going for a southern gothic thing here (despite the Colorado setting).
@dailydoseoflokiii @sullyselena @minhyrin
"You should have told Cyrus who you were," Kathy says as perches on the bed you'd been given beside you. "He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us."
She gently dabs at your wounds with a damp cloth, trying to wipe away some of the semi-dried blood. Your nose had stopped pouring with blood now, slowing to an occasional trickle as you leant your head into the correct position to stop the flow. It was almost certainly broken, and you could feel pain radiating under your skin as the bruises began to form, your cheek burning from the swelling. There was no mirror to see the full extent of the damage he'd inflicted, but from the pain alone it couldn't have been good.
You gently scoff. "There's a name for that kind of prophecy, self fulfilling," you say with a sigh, trying not to wince as her movements antagonise your sore skin.
"You don't know how dangerous it is to lie to him," she counters with a shake of her head. You place your hand on hers, stopping her movements as you fight to sit up. The pain in your shoulder as you so do makes your teeth clench, the sharp shooting pain radiating from the back of your ear down to your spine.
"I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, knowing the consequences. And that that woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it," you say, looking directly into her eyes.
You watch as she briefly recoils, her eyes diverting away from yours out of guilt. She battles herself, eyes flickering across the room before she rises up from the bed and rushes out of the door. You were so close, but that contact was only the first step.
Your head rests back onto the pillow underneath you and you fight the exhaustion that creeps further into your consciousness. You so desperately need to sleep, need to rest for the inevitable battle coming your way but you can't let your guard down now. Especially not with a possible concussion. And so you wait, allowing your body to rest whilst your mind whirls, strategizing every possible outcome of how you can get everyone out before things turn even more sour.
"How you doing today, Ben?" Rossi says, fighting to keep his voice neutral and pleasant, reciprocating the casualness Cyrus had used the previous day. A power play, a game of back and forth.
"I will release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent. I promise no harm will come to them from this point forward," he says bluntly. It's scripted, rehearsed.
The bug had picked up Reid's suggestion of testing the negotiator, of the entire conversation they'd had before the call. They'd heard everything, the information to request, the talk of the followers wanting to leave. All information that Rossi could now use to his advantage.
"I can't give you that information," Rossi says, playing the part.
"I will send the child now."
Morgan jumps into action on Hotch's instruction, attaching his radio and jumping into a cruiser with Dan. The doors to the compound open and out walks a nervous young girl no older than four. She's clutching something in her arms, her fingers in her mouth as she slowly walks towards Morgan.
"We got her, hotch," Morgan says through the radio.
"We're taking a big risk here, Ben," Rossi says.
"Trust is earned," Cyrus retorts, repeating their conversation from yesterday.
"Her name is Y/N. She came in with two child service workers to talk to the girls."
Hotch winces as Rossi says your name, his arms outstretched on the table infront of him whilst he stands, his head dropping down as his eyes close. His frown is deep, his jaw clenched, as he listens in to the rest of the conversation.
"There's a good chance we can work this out, Dave. I'm gonna provide another sign of good faith."
"You're doing a good thing here."
The line disconnects and everyone takes a breath. Morgan returns, handing the girl off to another officer who takes her inside, soothing her.
"That was too easy," Morgan says with a shake of his head, verbalising what everyone else was thinking.
"It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So when I call out your name, please stand."
You're shoved back into the chapel by a pair of strong arms, flanked by two of his devout followers wielding a gun. You blink slowly, resting against one of the pillars at the back of the chapel, watching as the congregation takes their seats.
Spencer makes his way over to you as soon as he spots you, his gaze having been inevitably seeking you out since the gathering had begun.
He approaches you slowly, his body language matching the sadness in his eyes as he looks at your face. You turn to him, giving a little smile to soothe him, knowing where his mind was at.
"Todd Sutters. Melanie Sutters."
"He looks pissed," you say, trying to refocus Spencer's attention, though it doesn't work. His eyes bore into you like a wounded animal, the sadness and the guilt seeping out and making your chest clench.
"It's not as bad as it looks," you say gently with a slight shake of your head.
The hand that reaches out for yours makes you pause. Delicate, unsure fingers ghost over your hand and your lip wobbles slightly at the contact, knowing how bad he must be hurting for him to do that.
"I'm so sorry," he says quietly, not breaking eye contact. You shake your head again, trying to ease him. You can't hold the eye contact any longer and begin to look away, taking stock of the names he's reading out.
"Jenelle Radley. Sean Ebbins. Sherry..."
"Look at who he's releasing," you say. Spencer turns then, shifting his attention to the people who are now standing.
"Wyatt Rayborn."
"It's the ones who failed the loyalty test," Spencer says curiously.
"He's not going to let them go lightly," you say, looking back towards Reid. You try and frown but the pain makes you flinch.
"We'll get word to the team, we don't have any time left. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come," Spence says before moving towards Cyrus as he completes the list of the unfaithful.
"I told her she shouldn't have lied to you like that," Reid says, loudly enough for you to hear. Cyrus' eyes flash to you dangerously quickly.
"To either of us." He then turns to speak out to the congregation.
"Those of you that are standing, please collect your belongings And report to the front hallway immediately.
"We will surrender tomorrow at noon. I want the press there to insure that we're treated fairly. We'll discuss the details in our 7:00 A. M. call. I'll see you then, Dave," Cyrus instructs over the phone.
"I look forward to it," Rossi replies.
"Oh, and one more thing," Cyrus chimes in, casting his eyes towards Reid as he gives a sickening smile, "Could you send some food in?"
"Sure. What would you like?"
"Fried chicken, all the fixin's." Morgan looks incredulously at Rossi, whilst Hotch doesn't react, at least outwardly.
"You got it," Rossi says airily, anticipating the call to be disconnected immediately after. Then, the feed from the bug comes through as Cyrus, Reid and another man make conversation.
"I don't understand. Why did you let them go?" The man says, a sense of panic in his voice. Rossi shoots a look to Hotch, not having anticipated this.
"They weren't prepared to do what needs to be done," Reid answers.
"You're not one of us. You don't know what it takes to be prepared!"
"Listen to him. Tell him," Cyrus replies, eerily calm.
"They failed the test. They had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus told them That they'd sacrifice themselves for god, but instead they showed they weren't worthy. That's why he wants the media to bear witness to your true final act of sacrifice."
"How do you know that?" The man says too quickly, unnerved.
"I'm always looking for signs of things to come."
"Reid's talking to us. He wants a sign when we're coming in. He's telling us this is it," Rossi says quickly, his eyes fixed upon the unit chief, reading between the lines once again. "Time has run out. We've got to go in."
"Take her back upstairs," Cyrus' voice suddenly cuts through again. Hotch's stomach clenches, knowing that he's referring to you. He doesn't hear anything else despite listening closely for any sign of you.
"They're coming out!" The voice of one of the officers carries forwards as he points towards the doors to the compound. All eyes are fixed to the doors as people begin stepping out with their belongings, some with children and some alone.
"Go, now," Hotch says, gesturing for the officers to aide the survivors, taking them to safety whilst he prepares for the next task. His mind drifts to you, worried that he hadn't heard your voice, though Spencer had mentioned you, no doubt purposefully to ease their minds. He wanted this to be over, wanted you back in his arms where he could keep you safe, to stop your suffering. Allowing himself just one more minute of idle thought, he forced himself to think of happier times, of your smile and your capabilities, not the sound of your cries that were haunting him. And then, in typical fashion, he stood and straightened out his crinkled shirt and got back to work.
"Wait! Hold!"
Everyone freezes as a man follows behind the freed, a large gun in his arms and a hateful look on his face as he observes the released followers. He raises the gun and everyone on the team scrambles, knowing what would happen now. How had they not foreseen this? Morgan, Dan and Hotch launch forward, their hands reaching for their guns as they move into position, ready to take down the singular gunman.
Just as they gain a correct position, they hold fire, waiting to take the shot only when necessary.
But then in a surprising turn of fate, the door opens behind the gunman. Cyrus steps out behind him and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him back inside.
Morgan shoots the team a confused look, incredulous at what had just happened. Hotch simply frowns, steadying his racing heart.
"Trouble in paradise," Dan shrugs, stepping away to lead his team in gathering the outcasts.
"His diehards are turning against him," Morgan deducts. "Let's hope they make it to 3AM."
That doesn't soothe Hotch at all.
"Drugging the food is not an option because of the children," Hotch says as the agents gather around whilst the officers and aides begin distributing the demanded food into containers. "We have to go in."
"Best time to hit 'em is when they're least mentally prepared," Rossi adds.
"3:00 A.M. Biorhythms are at their low point then,"
"We need a diversion. Something that plays into his expectations."
"Cyrus brought up Waco, I know exactly how to use that. We need some humvees," Dan says, stepping out to gather all the resources he could.
"The plan depends on Y/N and Reid separating the diehards from the followers," Hotch says with a frown.
"And delaying Cyrus's diehards from reacting to our assault," Morgan adds.
"That's not my main concern, Reid and Y/N know what they need to do," he replies, his eyes focused on the whiteboard in front of him.
"So what is your concern?"
"Letting them know when we're coming. The whole things hinges on them being ready for us at 3:00 A.M."
"Come on, guys, quick. We need to get those bugs in the boxes before it gets too cold," Dan says to the officers after hanging up the phone.
Hotch's attention is pulled away from the whiteboard and over to the assembly line, seeing the lids to the boxes they were constructing. He thinks of the local takeout place you both love, the one open late that you always order from when you get back from a case late, the one that announces on their packaging what time they are open until.
"Perfect," he says, grabbing a lid and reaching for a sharpie. He scrawls on the lid carefully with his hand as to not print the ink onto his skin, the downfall of being left handed.
'New owners! New hours! Open till 3AM!!!'
He underlines the time threefold.
"Let's hope it's just that easy," Morgan says, patting him on the back as he steps away.
Hotch hopes that you recognise where he'd got the idea, that he'd thought of you, that it would remind you that he was here.
You're dragged by your arm down the stairs a little later and unceremoniously dumped back into the basement passage you'd been held up in earlier with Spencer. The smell of fried food makes your stomach turn, even if you were starving. Your injuries were throbbing now and talking had gotten harder as the skin around your split lip and under your nose had begun tightening from the swelling.
Spencer walks in and you stand, your eyes glossing over him to check for any signs he was injured. He's flanked by another armed follower, different to the one who had been following him earlier.
"Ya' got five minutes," he says gruffly to Reid before stepping out of the door, slamming it behind him. Spence is holding a tray of food, which he extends out to you as he nears you. You accept it out of his hands with a gentle smile but place it down on the floor absentmindedly, not remotely interested in eating it. Until the red sharpie on the lid captures your full attention.
'New owners! New hours! Open until 3A.M!!!'
Your wide eyes flash to Spencer and he nods with a small smile, not wanting to say anything out loud. You recognise the writing immediately and your chest tightens at the thought alone. It's unmistakably Aaron's writing, even more distinguishable in the all caps he'd written it in. It makes you think of the takeout place a few blocks away from your apartment that was always open late which you'd both order from on the nights you got back late from work. The red sharpie was surely not a coincidence, being that the takeout place always advertised their late night hours in big red text. He was making sure you got the message, and not just the time of the raid. For the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to smile.
And then as quickly as it bloomed across your face, it faded entirely.
"Cole defied Cyrus' orders, he was ready to gun down the released followers," Reid explains, perching beside you. You turn to him in surprise at the information. "Cyrus stopped him, pulled him inside."
"They're turning against him?" You ask with a frown.
"No, I think Cole wanted a blood bath, he's the diehard believer. Cyrus wasn't happy but he recognises Cole's value through devotion."
"So it's a worse crime being an FBI Agent than being trigger happy in a compound with children," you snark, wincing a little as you momentarily shift your weight onto your bad shoulder as you sit up straighter. Spence catches your wince, missing nothing, but before you can reassure him the steel door opens once again.
The man re-enters, still wielding the gun he'd been carrying all day and announces that your time's up. Kathy appears to escort you back upstairs. She eyes the unopened box of food on the floor but says nothing as she guides you away. You make eye contact with Reid on your way out, ensuring that he knows you got the message. It's a look of determination, of support, a parting blessing of good luck, that you'll see him on the other side.
"Cyrus is planning a mass suicide. You made the 9-1-1 call," you say to Kathy gently as she takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, having brought you a glass of water. You watched her reaction closely, seeing the guilt spread over her face. You'd suspected it all along, from the moment you saw the way she looked at Cyrus and the way she guarded Jessica from his advances.
"This is all my fault," she replies, "none of this would have happened if I hadn't of made that call," she shakes her head in guilt, eyes welling up.
"You were trying to protect your daughter," you re-assure her, reaching out for her hand. You wanted her to know she'd done the right thing.
"There were other girls before Jessie," she explains. "He-he would marry them in secret. And after a while, he'd take another. And we weren't permitted to speak of it. And so when she asked for my consent, I wanted to just take her and run. But I was afraid she wouldn't leave him."
You nod in understanding.
"You wanted us to take her? To keep her safe."
"I wanted to save her from him, even if it meant being apart." You're touched by her words, for her willingness to sacrifice everything she had for a chance to give her daughter a chance.
"I can give you another chance," you say, "The FBI are coming here at 3:00 A. M. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women and get them into the basement just before 3:00 A. M."
"Why are you telling me this?" She says, her eyes wide and her head beginning to shake, the responsibility sounding too much for her.
"Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica, like you've shown already. It's the best chance we have at saving everyone."
She drops her eyes to the blanket, her hands shaking slightly. She doesn't respond, doesn't give you an answer, she simply stands and walks out of the room.
You only hope she'll do the right thing once again.
Hours later, you sit up straight on the bed on high alert, hands tied. It's nearly 3AM, you'd been watching and counting and you can feel your body slipping into fight or flight mode as your instincts take over, the isolation driving you insane as you wait for the inevitable.
Suddenly the door is opened abruptly and you fight not to jump, seeing Kathy racing inside to come get you.
"What is it?" You ask, her hands working to untie the makeshift ties around your wrists.
"Come on! You were right, they're setting the place to blow up," She says, fumbling with the ties and finally getting them open. "I told Jessie Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children."
"Where’s the man I came in with?" You ask frantically, standing and stretching the second you were able to.
"He's in the chapel with Cyrus," she says. The last thing you wanted to hear.
"It's 2:45 though. We gotta hurry," she says, reaching for your arm and pulling you along with her towards to the basement. As you near the basement, you meet up with Jessica, seeing her dutifully herding the children as her mother had instructed her to do, though you can see the clear confusion in her face as to why.
"Go on, make sure they are all safe. The second you're together get out while you can," you say to Kathy, pulling her aside.
"What? No! You need to come," she replies. You place your hand on her arm.
"The FBI are coming, they'll know where you are. You've done everything right, you just need to have faith."
"And you?" She asks, her eyes flicking to the children who are racing past to catch up with Jessica.
"I have to find my friend."
You sneak through the corridors, winding ever closer to the back entrance of the chapel, pausing when you hear someone up ahead. You peek around the wall, seeing Cole patrolling the corridor ahead. You look around, trying to find anything to distract him with but there's nothing, it's completely empty. You take a steadying breath and remove your shoe, raising it up to head height before dropping it loudly on the floor. The noise echoes through the stone lined corridor and you wait, your back to the wall, elbow ready, praying this would work.
He takes the bait without hesitation, his noisy boots clinching as he moves closer towards you to inspect the noise. As he approaches the wall where you are hidden, you extend your elbow and knock straight into his gun. The gun whips back and knocks him straight in the mouth with a disgusting crack, throwing him off guard as he cries out in pain. The gun goes off with the impact, his finger still on the trigger, the recoil doubling down the impact. You don't hesitate, wrestling the gun out of his arms whilst he's thrown off guard, his hands reaching up to cradle his bleeding mouth.
You grab hold of the gun and point it directly at him, unflinching and unwavering. You need to go. He looks ready to lunge at you in pure fury and so you lower the gun and shoot. He cries out as the bullet grazes his knee, his body collapsing as he tends to the wound.
You press on, knowing you have no time left. You slip on your shoe and run towards the chapel.
"Jeremiah 29:11: 'I have for you,' declares the lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to bring you hope and a future'. Is blowing yourself up part of the prosperous future that god wants?" Reid says, his voice beginning to sound panicked at the metaphorical clock ticks.
"You think you know the word better than I?" Cyrus asks, stepping forward to square up in-front of Reid, his gun fixed out in front of him.
"No," Reid says quickly, "I'm just demonstrating that you can use the bible to manipulate anything."
"Matthew 10:24, "do not suppose that I've come to the earth to bring peace. I did not come to bring peace but a sword."
Cyrus suddenly lunges and endows Reid in the stomach, causing him to let out a groan of pain, his body folding in on itself with the force of the blow.
"You cannot convert my brothers." He lunges again and lands another blow on Reid, forcing the younger man to the floor as he fights to regain his breath.
"No one had to follow. God could have stopped me," Cyrus says ominously, his eyes blazing in anticipation as he grabs hold of the control box, ready to press the button at any second.
FBI and armed officers swarm in, filling the chapel within moments. One man is shot down first and then Cyrus himself is taken out with two shots. He falls to the ground with a bang, the control box slipping out of his outstretched hands as he lies dead, bleeding onto the stone floor of the chapel.
"He just did," Spencer says, looking at the now deceased leader.
"Clear! You all right, kid?" Morgan says, running straight towards Reid, pulling him up from the floor.
"Fine," he says, dusting himself off as he asks frantically, "where's Y/N?"
"She's not here?" Morgan asks in a panic, his eyes whipping around the entire space before he raises his radio to his lips. "I got Reid! Y/N's not here!"
Static briefly crackles over the radio before the voice of Rossi flows through.
"She wasn't with the children."
The two freeze, their guts sinking.
"Search every room, every cupboard. I want her found," Rossi's voice says firmly over the radio to every officer in the building.
Their heads whip around when a figure moves into the chapel, both of them hoping it's you.
Jessica shifts forward, her eyes fixing upon the figure of her deceased 'husband' lying in the floor. She's pale, in shock.
Suddenly you appear behind her.
"Jessica, you have to come with me," you say, casting a glance to Morgan and Reid, a sense of relief clear on all of your faces.
Jessica doesn't reply, she continues moving towards Cyrus' body.
"Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you out of here," Morgan presses, extending a hand towards her. She doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge his words at all let alone his presence.
"Jessica listen to me," you say harshly, forcing her attention. She pauses very briefly.
You shoot a look to Morgan, your breath coming in harsh pants as you realise too late what she's going to do. You gesture for them to leave, knowing there wouldn't be much time left.
Morgan refuses. Reid refuses too. But you persist, telling them with desperate eyes to get out of there.
Morgan looks at you with eyes that could stop a heart, his face twisting into agony as he battles himself. Reid's eyes physically hurt you, his lip wobbling as he looks at you in desperation.
"Go," you mouth at them, "please."
"He had a message for you Jessie," you say with tear filled eyes, your voice wobbling with your emotions.
All you could think of was Aaron, and how you'd never get the chance to tell him how much you loved him one last time. You hoped he'd forgive you, hoped he'd be happy again.
She turns to you in an instant, her crazed eyes wide. You have her.
"He said 'tell her I love her, that she's to go forth and carry the word of God in exchange for our children she would have bared'." You hate every second of the words tumbling from your mouth, your mind racing to try and diffuse this situation.
She begins to cry, violently sobbing.
"I will! I will!" She falls to her knees near his body. She's clutching onto him desperately, her tears streaming down her face and onto his lifeless body beneath her.
You creep forward, placing your hands on her shoulders in support.
"We have to leave, think of what Cyrus said," you remind her. She freezes then.
Her hands grasp for the control box just out of Cyrus' reach and you gasp, trying to get to it first.
"No, Jessica, don't do this! You need to be saved, you need to spread Cyrus' story!"
She stares down at the box in her shaking hands, her tears obscuring her vision.
"You're not alone Jessica! Your mom's waiting for you outside."
You force yourself to think of Aaron as a tear rolls down your swollen cheek.
Hotch watches in a silent panic, frozen to the spot as women and children, followed by more followers begin pouring out. He couldn't go in, he needed to be here for when you came out, managing the situation and ready to embrace you and keep you safe. But then he'd heard Rossi's communication, that you weren't there and his heart had sunk further than he thought possible.
His eyes flick up with a fresh wave of hopefulness as he sees Reid and Morgan running down the steps towards him, their faces solemn, tears falling from their eyes. He's going to collapse, he can't do this. Years in this job and this is what breaks him.
"She's in there with Jessica, she's trying to get her out, she made us leave," they say, stumbling over each other looking crestfallen.
And then, the building explodes.
Hotch falls to his knees, his face contorted into agony, silent screams falling from his lips, too agonised to even make a sound. And then it happens, he lets out an agonised, guttural wail that sounds like a roar, his head tipped back as he screams up into the sky.
Reid looks devastated beside him, tears freely flossing down his face, repeating 'no' over and over in a weak voice as his eyes try to seek you out amongst the smoke. Morgan's eyes are tightly closed, his forehead creased, shoulders sagged as he fights back the tears threatening to spill.
And then, Reid spots something amongst the smoke. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, to fix upon the figure moving slowly.
"Hotch!" He screams, pointing with his finger towards the figure.
Aaron's feet move before his brain can comprehend what's happening. He doesn't believe it, he can't believe it, but he'll hold out every hope he has for you. He nears the figure, slipping through the dense smoke pouring out of the building.
"Aaron?" You cough weakly as he approaches you. You tumble into his arms and he catches you without thought, tightening his arms around you to tightly that it hurts. You're sobbing, he's sobbing, there's no intelligible words passed between you as you sit on the concrete and profess everything you'd been wanting to say.
He kisses you, putting his whole heart into the kiss as your lips meet. You're momentarily stunned that he's allowing this to happen, openly embracing you in front of everyone. Everyone.
"Reid, Morgan," you suddenly say in a panic as you pull away.
"They're safe," he says with a nod of his head. Your tears stream down your face without a hint of stopping, his thumb reaching up to swipe them away. He catches sight of your swollen face now, his eyes finally truly seeing you, ascertaining that you weren't a figment of his imagination. His lips part at the damage on your face, his eyes turning thunderous yet distraught.
"Are you hurt?" He asks, suddenly looking around, realising this was far from the best place. He needed to get you away, somewhere safe.
"I can walk," you say, beginning to stand. He's in his feet in seconds, hand finding yours to assist you as he leans you into his body and shelters you from the smoke and the falling debris carried in the air.
You find Reid instantly, he runs to you and embraces you tightly, your arms reaching around him instinctively. Aaron allows you to break out of his arms but he stays close by.
"I shouldn't have left, I should have stayed with you," he says quickly.
"You did the right thing," you say with a shake of your head. "I'm okay."
Over Reid's shoulder you see Kathy. She looks around hopefully and your tears begin again. You pull away from Reid, placing your hand on his chest and giving him a warm smile as you step around him towards Kathy.
Her eyes find you and her face drops, knowing instinctively what you were going to say.
You catch her as she falls into your arms sobbing. You'd failed her. You'd ran when Jessica wouldn't relinquish the detonator. There was nothing you could do, and yet you still felt shame and profound guilt that you couldn't save her daughter.
Whether it was a true miracle, or some sort of divine intervention, you hear a faint noise behind you and pull away.
"Mom?"
Your mouth falls open and you stumble backwards, right into Aaron's waiting arms as he catches you with ease. Jessica.
Kathy runs towards her mother who embraces her with the same devotion and relief Aaron had shown you, her cries of relief echoing into the air. You look around, wondering how the hell she was here. She'd pressed the detonator, there was no way. You look to Aaron for answers, but he looks just as surprised as you.
JJ comes over soon after, her lip wobbling as she looks at you though she's fighting it to remain composed and professional. She strokes your arm lovingly before leading Kathy and Jessica gently away. Aaron returns to your side within moments and you turn to him, throwing yourself into his chest and crying anew into the material of his bulletproof vest. He doesn't make any move to shush or scold you. You're certain there will be a lecture later but for now he simply holds you and allows you to cry.
"Did you know?" Morgan turns to Rossi, gesturing to the agent and her boss holding each other amidst the chaos.
"That there were feelings there? Yes," Rossi says with a nod, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "How deep that love was? No."
He rips off his vest, throwing it down onto the table and walks back into the Ops tent, leaving Morgan and Reid to stare at the couple.
The Jet was quiet on the way back. JJ had thought to bring your ready bag with them and you hugged her tightly as she handed it to you once you were aboard the jet. You freshened up and changed into clean clothes, desperate for a long bath but happy to make do with what you had. You dressed in your spare clothes and shoved the dirty clothes into the waterproof bag you carried; you'd decide if they were salvageable later. Throwing the big oversized sweatshirt over you, careful over your injured shoulder, you finally felt a level of comfort that you hadn't in days. Your hair still smelled faintly of smoke and you felt dirty in yourself but it was better.
You stepped out of the bathroom, past the privacy curtain and into the main jet. Your eyes found Spencer first, though you could feel everyone's eyes on you who was still awake. He was sat at the table reading, though he couldn't fool you. You took a seat, noticing him actively avoiding your gaze.
"Spence, I need you to listen to me," you say quietly, your hands reaching for his book to stop him reading. His eyes draw up to yours. "What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again." You pause, allowing him to take in what you're saying.
His eyes blink a few times, his mouth twitching. You won't make him uncomfortable and you won't press him. His hand slowly reaches for yours across the table, his thumb stroking over your knuckles and the weight of his simple gesture hits you square in the chest. You smile at him and he smiles back, a little unsure of himself with his rare act of physical affection but you smile again.
"Thank you," you say as he slowly begins to withdraw his hand, his eye contact beginning to fade. You take your other hand away from his book and straighten it back in his hands before slipping out of the seat.
You walk towards the seating area, passing Rossi and JJ who are sleeping on the armchairs.
"Here comes Rambo," Morgan smirks, earning a smile and a roll of your eyes that only seems to fuel him further. "Garcia been blowing up your phone yet?"
"Put it this way," you smile gently as you take a seat beside Aaron on the two seater, "I was on flight mode before we reached the airstrip."
He laughs and sits back in his seat, placing on his headphones and closing his eyes.
You turn to Aaron, eyes looking up into his. He casts a quick look towards the team, ensuring that they aren't watching, earning a slight scoff from you.
"You think they don't know?" You ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. He softens, amusement in his eyes.
"They know, but they don't have to see," he counters. You frown. "See what?"
His lips find yours in an extremely rare public display of affection. It's chaste and sweet, last only a few seconds before he pulls away, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You smile back, knowing that your cheeks would be burning with a blush if it wasn't for the bruising.
You'd finally seen the damage inflicted on your face once you arrived on the jet and used the bathroom to clean up and it was extensive to say the least. Your nose was broken but thankfully not noticeably so, your lip split, a nasty gash across your cheek that required stitches on top of skin that was a vivid shade of indigo. Your collar bone had been fractured in the skirmish but the doctor said it was clean and would heal quickly, thankfully no sling needed.
You catch him looking at your injuries and avert his gaze, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious.
"You don't need to hide, you're still beautiful," he says gently, reading you like an open book.
"No profiling each other remember?" You snark, shooting him a mock-disappointed glance. His mouth flickers with a blossoming smile but he forces it back.
"I was expecting a lecture," you say, reaching for the blanket beside you to wrap around your legs. He helps extend it for you, ensuring your feet were covered too.
"And you'll get one, but not tonight," he says softly. "You need to rest, lean back on me, I'm not going anywhere."
It doesn't sound like much, but in Hotch terms that's as good as a banner on the back on a plan in the sky announcing his love. You do as he says and rest gently against him. You don’t sleep, not yet at least, though you’re certain that instead of counting sheep tonight you’ll be counting your blessings.
Hi Anon! This request took on a life of its own and I’m sorry if it’s not what you were looking for but with the platonic!George, it made my head spin. Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Fake dating trope, Platonic!George, George x Angelina, unrequited love, pining. Summer love. Kissing. Fred x Reader slow burn/ endgame. Best friend George. Fred and Y/n are always flirty and full of witty banter.
Word count: 4.4k
Summer love, triangle.
{15th July}
"Be my girlfriend."
Buttterbeer explodes from your mouth as you choke on the sip you'd just taken, the foam splattering all over you and some even going up your nose. Fred is doubled over at the table laughing and you try to shoot a glare at him over the pools of regurgitated drink that now covers the table in the Three Broomsticks.
You shoot a look of utter bewilderment towards George who is cringing at your reaction and clearly trying not to laugh, though forcing a straight face.
"Not for real, just pretend."
"It's coming out my nose isn't it," you mumble, wiping your face with the sleeve of your jumper, cursing the lack of napkins. "Godric George you could have lead with that!"
"Calm down," he says with a roll of his eyes.
"Calm down? There's butterbeer in my brain!"
"How does anyone believe we're dating? You're so dramatic."
"Oh and you're so serious," you bite back sarcastically, wiping down the table which is still covered with half of your butterbeer.
For as long as you could remember, you and George had faced rumours that you were dating almost weekly. Someone would whisper that they'd seen you cuddling in the common room or kissing on the path to Hogsmeade, some even included Fred which was entirely too far in your opinion. You and George were just friends, best friends, and would remain that way forever. Entirely platonic from both sides. But yet the rumour mill still churned and would do so until either of you finally got a significant other. George had been infatuated with Angelina Johnson for nearly a year now, blushing when she looked his way and often stumbling over his words when they talked. It was adorable and pathetic all the same, something both you and Fred told him frequently, though his resolve never seemed to improve.
Finally after months of pining, he'd plucked up the courage to ask her out and she had said yes without any hesitation, leading to their newly found romance which was still in the very early stages and very secret.
"If mum knows I'm dating Ang then she'll never let us visit her in the summer! But if she thinks I'm dating you then it's all sorted," he says with a shrug, clearly having devised the plan way before speaking to you.
"You do realise you've gone mad don't you?" You say, hesitantly taking another sip of your butterbeer. "Like St Mungo's level of crazy. And what happens when we 'break up', and we can't be friends anymore?"
"That's not going to happen," he says with a quick shake of his head. "We just say that we were better of as friends. Or you dump me and go out with Fred instead."
"We're not playing pass the parcel!"
"I wouldn't mind," Fred says with a wink and a cheeky smirk.
"Git," you grumble, rolling your eyes at him.
"I've already talked with Ang about it, she's fine with it, as long as we don't kiss or anything," he shrugs.
"Kiss?!"
"What's wrong not had your first kiss yet?" Fred smirks, his eyes filled with devilish mischief as they always did when he was teasing. "If you're taking volunteers..."
"I'm not." You say blankly, enjoying the way his lip subtly protrudes into a pout. "And of course I have!
"A couple of weeks, that's all. Let mum get wind of it. I'm sure Ronniekins will be run and tell her in no time."
You sit for a moment in consideration, weighing up your options. You were all really looking forward to spending a few days with Angelina during the holidays, having planned it months ago. You, Fred and George were going back home with Ang for the first four days of summer before going back to the Burrow. Plus he was right, Molly knowing the truth about their relationship would definitely put a stop to those plans. But there was so much at stake for you personally, things that you had never told George, the one secret you'd been keeping tight to your chest. Could you sacrifice it for George?
"And what do I get out of this?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously over the rim of your cup as you drink the overly sweet last sip of your drink.
"You get to see your best friend very happy with the girl he's fancied for three years and finally managed to get her to go out with him?" He flutters his lashes at you with a smile meant to guilt trip you. You raise your eyebrow at him, trying to get him to up the stakes.
"We'll name a product after you for the shop, something special, or my first born..."
"Well that kiss is still on the table," Fred chimes in, though it hardly warrants a reply.
You simply sigh, pausing for a moment before raising your empty glass in the air, prompting him to meet you mid-air.
"To George and Angelina."
{16th July}
"If you don't pull your hand away from me in three seconds, you're about to leave here limping," you hiss at your 'boyfriend', glaring at his hand on your leg.
"You kiss my brother with that mouth?!" Fred says acting shocked, much louder than you wished. His eyes are gleaming again with mischief and though you shoot him a dirty look, he's completely unfazed.
"Boyfriends tend to touch their girlfriends you know," George argues.
"Fake boyfriends don't touch their fake girlfriends when there's nobody else around to see, idiot," you retort, looking around the largely deserted common room. Fred sniggers from his place on the floor, not even looking up from the notebook that he's writing in.
"You never know who's watching," George says after a few moments, shrugging.
"Yeah like Angelina," you say, shoving him away from you. "I reckon you're getting a bit too comfortable here, you sure you're not actually fake dating Ang just to get your paws all over me?"
Once again Fred laughs whilst George shoots you a dirty look, squinting his eyes at you.
"Wouldn't blame him," Fred mutters, briefly looking up to catch your eye and shook you a wink.
George's arm suddenly snakes over your shoulder the second the portrait hole opens, almost jumping into action at the disturbance. It's a group of first years who not only do not know you, but wouldn't care in the slightest about whose arm is around you or not. Once they have disappeared out of sight after climbing the stairs, you shrug George's arm off of you and choose to sit on the floor with friend, sarcastically grumbling about his 'wandering hands'.
{17th July}
By lunch the next day, it seemed everyone knew about your relationship with George. Whispers followed you down from the common room that morning and throughout all of your classes, only ramping up when George's arm had been slung around your shoulders walking to Defence against the Dark arts. You could feel people's stares on you, sensing they were talking and tried largely to ignore them though it felt like they could see through your facade. You'd managed to have a quiet word with Angelina in private to make sure she was okay with everything and she'd assured you that she was, which did clear your conscience slightly. The tightness in your chest was still very much present though, the secret you'd been keeping feeling like it was weighing you down. You couldn't tell anyone, certainly not George and now mixed up in this fake dating mess you were unable to reveal it to anyone as to not unravel the web of lies you had weaved. By helping George you had unwittingly sacrificed your own happiness and would just have to accept that fact, as painful as it was.
Just as George predicted, Molly discovered your relationship merely days after you and George had gone 'official'. Though the informant was potentially two of his younger siblings, the elder of the two seemed a little too eager to avoid George's stares for it to be Ginny. George had received a howler mere days after your relationship leaked, announcing to the entire Great Hall in a booming voice that his mother was unbelievably disappointed in him not telling her the good news and for keeping his feelings so secret. Then in a much calmer voice, her message spoke her congratulations to you and extended her welcome for you to stay with them for the rest of the week, now as George's girlfriend. The letter sputtered and growled before exploding into shredded confetti before your eyes, rendering the entire Great Hall silent. Laughter erupted, none louder than Angelina who had found the entire scene unbearably funny. You could hardly hide your own laughter at George's flushed cheeks, even if you should have been mortified in that moment and turned towards Fred beside you to share in his inevitable amusement. To your genuine surprise, he wasn't laughing along with the rest of the students but instead focused on the plate of food in front of him, scraping away the remnants of the Howler that had fallen onto his plate.
"Are you all packed up then?" Angelina asks from across the table, diverting attention away from what had just happened, though her face still showed undeniable signs of lingering amusement.
"Pretty much," George says through a mouth full of food, which you grimace at, wondering how on earth Angelina was attracted to him.
"I'm so jealous I can't come," Alicia says from beside Ang, repeating the phrase she'd said every time the plan was mentioned.
"You're going on holiday abroad, it's going to be way better than being with these lovebirds," Angelina laughs, pointing her fork at you and George, the irony in her words almost palpable. Fred mumbles something but you don't quite catch it, yourself too distracted by George shoving a whole roast potato into his mouth at that very moment.
"Godric it's like watching Ron if he'd been stretched. Or Fang."
That got a chuckle out of Fred beside you and the people surrounding, except Ron of course. Glad to hear Fred chuckle, you slipped back into listening to the group, the conversation moving along easily after that with all of you planning out your days at Angelina's house.
{29th July}
You'd spent three nights away at Angelina's house after breaking up from school for the summer and it had been incredible. Angelina's parents were almost perfectly normal, lenient with rules and were amazingly easygoing and welcoming, though of course they didn't know that their daughter was dating one of their house guests. George and Angelina had spent a lot of time together over the past three days as you expected them to but neither you or Fred had truly realised exactly how much time they would be spending together, leaving you feeling a little misplaced. With Ang and George sneaking off whenever they could to do Godric knows what, you'd inevitably spent most of your time with Fred alone.
You'd laughed harder than you had in weeks, allowed yourself to fully let go after finishing the school year and enjoyed spending time with him one on one, filling your days with long walks and stupid pranks. He'd been surprisingly open with you, not always deflecting with humour when you asked questions back and forth whilst you walked, most of the conversations naturally steering to deeper topics when they weren't stupid questions intended to make the other laugh. Though of course you always knew it, he and George were so different in personality and temperament you found it unfathomable that people could ever confuse them. Where George was slightly less outgoing and sometimes more thoughtful, Fred had a level of honesty that most people denied within themselves. He was a completely open book when you observed him closely, his face completely unable to hide what he was truly feeling, little micro-expressions always conveying his true feelings. Away from George, he was kinder than he appeared as a duo and equally as funny without his counterpart to bounce off of. You'd had a really great time.
Your last night at Angelina's was spent around a small fire that her dad had made for you, all of you sat around under the stars laughing and joking, playing silly games and drinking in the last few hours. You couldn't help but watch George and Angelina together, seeing them blending as one as they got more confident with each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, the first awkward stage now passed. It was weird at first to suddenly see George that way, seeing him mellow and all starry eyed, knowing him only as your best friend and an infamous prankster. But they suited each other and you were truly happy for them.
"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice interrupts you, throwing themself down onto the large log beside you where you sat.
"Just thinking of how nice it is to see them happy." Fred simply looks at you for a second, his gaze burning your face as he takes in your words before raising his drink to his lips.
"It was a really nice thing that you did for them," he says, sounding strangely distant, as if he was thinking over his words. You turn to him and simply shrug with a small smile, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach when you remembered what their happiness had cost you.
"Reckon I'd take an unforgivable curse for him so fake dating wasn't really that bad... in comparison," you say, enjoying the way Fred's shoulders jiggle as he chuckles.
"What about me?" He asks, squinting his eyes at you playfully. You frown slightly, unsure what he was asking you. "Would you take an unforgivable curse for me?"
"In a heartbeat," you answer honestly, forcing yourself not to look away despite the intensity of the moment. He looks slightly stunned for a moment, his bottom lip pulling into his mouth as he processes your words. You take a sip of your own drink, looking back at George and Ang who were huddled together under a blanket on the other side of the fire pit talking between themselves.
"And the other?"
Your head turns to Fred rather quickly and simply look at him, really not understanding what he was saying in the moment. When his smirk begins to bloom after a few moments of awkward silence, you realise he's having you on.
"Very good," you smile with a roll of your eyes, "like George wasn't handsy enough."
Fred laughs but his eyes don't show the same sparkle of mischief as normal, prompting you to try and search his eyes closely to try and work out why.
"Want another drink?" He says, nodding towards the empty bottle in your hand.
"Please," you say with a smile, handing him the empty bottle. You watch as he trudges back to the house through the tall grass, following his figure until he's almost disappeared behind the hill. Though it was long since the sun had set, you could still see the vibrant red hair standing out against the surroundings even in the horizon.
"Merlin's arse George!" You say clutching your chest as George suddenly appears beside you on the opposite side, catching you completely off guard.
He stretches out his long legs as he sits on the log, pulling down the sleeves of his jumper as he looks at you with such intensity and knowing that it makes you freeze.
"You're in love with Fred aren't you?"
"What?" You splutter, immediately laughing at the idea as you look at him like he's crazy.
His own expression remains unchanged, his eyes imploring you and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly enough to appear prompting. You quickly look around and notice that neither Fred or Angelina are with you, leaving you and George alone. You fight it for mere moments before sighing in defeat, finding no reason to continue hiding your secret. You simply nod, keeping your eyes averted and fixated on your lap, not able to find the words to eloquently explain.
"Why didn't you say anything?" He asks, with no judgement in his voice, only the slightest sense of guilt that you can make out judging by his quietness.
"Wanted you to be happy," you shrug.
"But you're not happy," he says softly, his gaze burning into you, silently imploring you to look back at him.
His words take you by surprise, firstly because of the ridiculousness of them considering that you'd had four wonderful days here and secondly, because he was completely right. His expression had softened now, trying to encourage you to talk to him.
You don't know what to say, feeling completely out of your depth.
"It fine George, really," you say in assurance. "It's not like Fred would ever like me back anyway. One of us might as well be happy."
You smile despite the sadness that has washed over you, the resigned acceptance of your situation becoming harder to deal with as the secret you'd been clutching onto has been discovered.
"How long?"
"Ages," you say with a humourless laugh, conveying just how pathetic you felt at the admission, your fingers nervously picking at the sleeve of your jumper.
"Why did you agree to fake dating me then if you liked Fred?"
"Because you asked me to."
His soft eyes look burdened with guilt that you wish you could take away, not wanting him to feel anything other than happy for how everything had worked out. Having the school think that you were dating George had inevitably shot any chance of you ever being with Fred. It wasn't like you could switch between brothers and come out of it unscathed, nor would you accept any situation where you would have to hide your affection.
"Maybe," George tries to say, immediately offering solutions but you gently stop him, placing a hand on his arm and shaking your head a slightly.
"Really Georgie you don't need to do that. He doesn't like me back so it's not worth the thought, I'm happy with what I have."
"Who doesn't like you back?" Fred suddenly asks from only a few meters away, reappearing with two fresh bottles of butterbeer.
You freeze, your usually witty mind going completely blank. George beside you similarly freezes, feeling like he'd truly dropped you in it now. Not a single bloke's name comes to your mind and your mouth feels too dry to talk anyway, looking at him like a deer in headlights. Your first instinct is to bolt but you know you can't, especially as you watch Angelina return to the fire and look upon you three quizzically at the sudden awkward silence.
"What's happening here then?" She asks, walking up with a teasing grin. "Not trying to steal my boyfriend back are you?"
You realise your hand is still on George's arm and you drop it immediately, as platonic and innocent as the touch was.
"Uh no, can't imagine anything worse actually," you say quickly, much too quickly for it not to be suspicious. "Nipping to the loo."
Three sets of eyes follow you as you make your way to the house, the tall grass scratching your bare legs underneath your shorts.
"Y/n, Wait!"
You pause and turn on the spot, seeing Fred racing to catch up with you. You frown slightly at his sudden rush, even as he reaches you and stands facing you silently for a few seconds, his eyes swimming all over your face.
"The bloke that doesn't like you back," Fred says, ever so slightly breathless from his run. "Are you certain that he doesn't like you?"
You stare up into his hazel eyes and feel slightly lost in the moment, only able to nod gently in reply. Your stomach sinks at the thought of telling you secret, though ayou can't deny a slight sense of pleasant unease that feels a little like hope rising in you at his sudden desperation to reach you.
"Have you ever asked him?" He asks, urging you to shake your head in reply. His lips look incredible right now and it's hard to tear your gaze away from his face whilst it's bathed so deliciously in moonlight, all the sharp lines of his face illuminated perfectly.
He sucks in a breath and stares at you with emotion filled eyes, as if he's suddenly nervous. Something you'll had never seen from Fred Weasley.
"I might be getting this very wrong here, but is there any chance the bloke is around this tall, ginger hair and ridiculously funny?" He asks, gesturing to his own height with his hand.
Again you simply nod, not seeing any other way than being truthful now. You watch his face closely and see his eyes light up ever so slightly and it forces you into take steady breaths, trying to squash down the hope that was rising up in you.
"And, to double check, it's definitely not George?" A smirk tugs at the side of his mouth and you can't help but laugh at the question, your nerves making his words seem utterly bizarre.
"Definitely not George," you say quietly through a smile that seems to capture his attention immediately. His eyes are solely focused on your lips as you pull the bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, trying not to squirm under the sudden attention. You're bare and vulnerable under his gaze, your secret bared to him. You're only hoping that he doesn't turn it into a joke.
Instead, to your very pleasant surprise, he begins to lean down with a slight nervous hesitation, your breath quickening at the action.
His lips meet yours and it's everything you could have ever wished for. His lips are soft and pillowy, slightly dominant and most of all, perfect. It takes moments before his hands are reaching out to you, grabbing your waist and holding you to him as you place your hand on his face, the kiss deepening as you sink into him, letting him lead. You both pull away with a fright when sudden explosions erupt above you, both of you breathless as you look up into the sky to see fireworks bursting in the sky.
You laugh at the sight, thinking of how utterly bizarre it is and Fred follows seconds later, the irony too much to ignore. He reaches for you again, pulling you into him as his right hand gently cups your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You're certain your eyes are glazed over with happiness and a little kiss-drunk as he smirks at you, pulling you in for another kiss as the fireworks continue to erupt above you, painting the black sky with brilliant patterns of purple and orange. Clearly George had let off some of the fireworks they’d been saving and what perfect timing he had.
"Told you that kiss was still on the table," he mumbles when you pull apart. You laugh, remembering the terms he'd originally offered when you agreed to fake dating George.
Only then do you remember your predicament, the smile slipping from your face ever so slightly as you realise what you'd done. Apparently sensing your sudden shift it mood, he strikes his thumb against your chin and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"Don't worry baby, I have a plan."
"You always have a plan," you say with a smile, enjoying the way his grin widens and his eyes full with mischievous delight once again.
"Wait you're with Fred? But.."
Ron splutters as you both walk into the Burrow hand in hand with the oldest twin. You can hardly keep the beaming smile off of your face and from the look on Fred's face, he feels exactly the same. Though you're pretty sure his delight is slightly less about you and more about the chaos he's about to cause. It's much too warm for a thick jumper but Fred had insisted upon wearing his 'F' initialled jumper on the way back from Angelina's house, exactly for this moment.
"But I thought you were with George!"
"Oh Ronald honestly!" Molly says with complete exasperation, swatting him across the head with the tea towel she'd been gripping. Looking between you and Fred, you can see a mixture of happiness and horror in her face, clearly having been given the wrong information from her youngest son.
"You know Ron, you've known us for sixteen years and you still can't tell us apart," George says, slipping past you and Fred into the kitchen, his own 'G' jumper clearly in view.
"I'm offended," Fred adds, looking at his brother with a playfully harsh gaze, though you can see the humour and delight in his eyes. Ron pales beneath everyone's glares and slumps down at the kitchen table, his cheeks heating up to a beetroot red.
"You think you're offended," you joke, looking between Fred and George. Fred barks out a laugh, pulling you into his arms, apparently not caring about his mother seeing whilst George grumbles his offence at your words.
"Well dear, it's certainly a surprise but we're very glad to have you here," Molly says with a smile, pulling you out of Fred's arms to place her own much shorter arms around you.
"Even if I was given the wrong information," she adds, casting a pointed glance towards Ron.
When Arthur returns from work later than evening, Fred’s face lights up once again in pure delight when he’s informed by Molly rather quickly and not too discreetly that there had been a slight mixup. George beams each and every time someone else has to be told of the ‘mix-up’, always ensuring his gaze is fixed firmly upon Ron who cowers each and every time, grumbling under his breath.
When you finally get back to Kings Cross after the summer, Fred barrels into you on the platform and spins you around in a dramatic flair, unfazed by the onlookers and the two trolleys full of luggage that inevitably blocked everyones path.
“Let’s give them something to talk about eh?” He whispers before reaching for you and pulling you in for a kiss, in front of everyone on the platform.
“Oi George, come help with my girlfriend’s trolley!”
Well, I got down on my knees, and I pretend to pray.
[Aaron Hotchner x BAUAgent!Reader]
This is part 2 of a 4 part mini series.
Series Masterlist // Aaron Hotchner Masterlist
Based off the episode 'Minimal Loss' S4X03. Reader takes the place of Prentiss. Full disclosure, I saw a Tiktok edit of this episode set to this song and became obsessed but Tumblr won't let me tag it for some reason. I've tried to write this like an episode of CM, so there are perspective shifts and different POV's, all separated by dividers.
Song: California Dreamin’ by the Mamas and the Papas.
4.k.- Secret relationship, BAUAgent!Reader, yearning, violence. Hostage situations, cults, themes of religion and religious manipulation. Child endangerment. Guns. Extreme violence and dark themes. Mentions of injury, physical assault, broken bones and blood. Reader is assaulted by Cult leader in chapter 2. Mentions of suicide and mass suicide, please mind the tags, No sexual assault featured. Loosely based on the real events of Jonestown, please mind the trigger warnings. Kind of going for a southern gothic thing here (despite the Colorado setting).
"Dave? I'm Ben. Come on in," Cyrus steps aside to allow the FBI agent inside, gesturing to the people sat in clusters within the chapel. "The children, and our guests."
Your eyes find Rossi's instantly and you force your expression to remain neutral, keeping any sense of familiarity away from your features. The sense of relief you feel is immense, knowing that the BAU were there, that Aaron was there. Your heart pounds, thankful to see a similar face, a glimmer of hope rising in your chest by his presence alone.
It had been a long day already and you knew it would only get longer into the night, with no sign of surrender or release on the Horizon. Logically, you knew the situation had long since escalated beyond that, but you still hoped for the easy way out this time. The 'minimal loss' scenario you'd unwittingly entered into would have to play out one way or another, unless you could stop it beforehand.
You'd spent your time alternating between observing the followers, seeking non-verbal information from the followers, picking apart the inter-social dynamics of the relationships within the cult and unironically reading the bible, hoping for answers.
You only allow your eyes to briefly cast over to Rossi again before you look away, as to not arouse any suspicions and you subtly nudge Reid with your leg for him to do the same, sensing he'd been looking too long.
You glance at the box of supplies Rossi had handed over upon entry, knowing that there would be audio bugs planted within. Another wave of hope passes over you.
You allow yourself to think of Aaron for only a moment, picturing him leading the team with a frown on his face. You almost smile at the mental image, feeling calmer by the moment just by the thought of his presence nearby, allowing yourself a moment of personal weakness.
"I'd hoped you'd let me take the children."
"Nah, they're our protection. I remember Waco. We all do."
The mention of the Waco siege makes your gut clench unpleasantly, knowing the outcome of the siege under similar circumstances that had left 86 people dead and many more wounded before the compound eventually set alight and burnt to the ground. You did not like those odds, nor did you like the leader mentioning it.
"This isn't Waco," Rossi states carefully.
"They stay for now," Cyrus retorts, reaching for a bible out of Jessica's hands. "While I pray for God's guidance. Please don't try to force us out."
"No one's gonna try to force you out of here. Trust me."
"Trust is earned," Cyrus says, beginning to turn back towards the door as he and Rossi walk down the central aisle of the chapel.
"It is," Rossi agrees. His eyes find you and Reid once more, briefly, and you nod your head once gently hoping that he'll understand, showing that you were both okay.
"Tell them I'm not crazy. Tell them I'm just a man living by God's law," Cyrus says as they reach the wooden doors flanked by armed followers.
"I will," Rossi says, reaching out to take Cyrus' hand in a handshake, which he reluctantly obliges. You see Rossi's left hand raise towards Cyrus during the handshake and watch with keen observation how he briefly touches the man's collar, masquerading it as a friendly touch when really he was placing another bug.
Then with a drawn out squeak and a definitive click, Rossi is gone.
Seconds after the door closes behind Rossi, Cyrus turns his attention to one of his commanders and instructs him to 'prepare the wine'.
"We are celebrating. Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with him."
You and Spencer move to stand at back of the church, not participating in their joint communion and you watch as Cyrus and his disciples hand out plastic cups and then decant wine from large bottles into everybody's glasses. There's a tightness in your chest, a discomfort at the timeline. Why would they take communion now? Immediately after Rossi had brought supplies that had been taken away to a side table and not touched. You fight back a frown as you observe the crowd, mainly the leader and his most faithful who remain by his side.
Your eyes follow Cyrus as he moves, relaying the prophecy he had foreseen, reciting twisted fragments of scripture for his own needs. You observe the way his followers interact with him, the true belief that he was the new messiah, the adoration; yet there was no more adoring follower than Jessica.
"Look at Jessica's body language. The way she looks at him, she literally worships him. There's no way she made that 9-1-1 call," you whisper discreetly to Reid as you watch her mother Kathy approaching her, seeing Jessica barely able to tear her eyes away from Cyrus.
"I agree," Reid says, his eyes meeting yours to look like regular conversation.
"Look how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter," he commentates, leaning in closer to you.
"She inserts herself between Jessica and Cyrus, she's uncomfortable with their relationship," you add, confirming your suspicions that she had been the one that placed the 911 call.
"Acknowledge him in all things, and he will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him. And I will guide our way."
Following Cyrus' actions, you watch as every person in the chapel brings the glass to their lips, taking a long sip of the wine that had been distributed. Men, women, children, every single person drinks the communion wine.
And then you realise exactly why you had felt so uncomfortable, the scene before you so ominous. This wouldn't be a repeat of Waco, this would be Jonestown.
"We will be with him soon. We have drank the poison together. Mothers. Fathers. Children. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we fear no evil. For thou are with us."
"Reid."
You don't have to say it, Spence already completely understands, hearing the panic in your voice. It's Jonestown all over again, you're potentially watching a replay of the mass suicides, though why he would leave you and Reid alive is a terrifying out-liar. But it doesn't fit, the situation is wrong, he wouldn't be doing this now.
"And God will wipe the tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death nor sorrow nor crying. And there will be no more pain. For all of the former things have passed away."
"What do we do?" Spencer asks, turning to you with wide, panicked eyes. You see the flashes behind his eyes, the theories and the possibilities whirring in his mind.
"Nothing," you reply, eyes whipping around the room to observe, looking for the missing pieces of the puzzle.
"We have to do something, these people just took poison!" Spencer whispers in panic.
"No, Cyrus just told them he did. I think he's just bluffing," you say, hoping that you were right. Your eyes briefly fall to the congregation, watching their varied reactions before you stare back at Cyrus and his devout followers.
"Why do you think that?"
"He's watching their reactions too closely, judging them individually," you reply. "He's too involved, he'd be stood back observing his creation and gaining gratification but he's not."
"Yeah, look," Spencer catches on quickly, nodding towards one of the main disciples at the front of the chapel. They seemed to be writing names down on paper on Cyrus' word as they huddle together in secretive discourse.
"It's a loyalty list," you frown.
"So he knows who will follow him to the end," Spence nods. "Jim Jones did the same thing."
"Because there was no other way out, Cyrus still has cards to play."
"Look, he's coming back," Spence nods, both of you silently watching Cyrus shifting to the front.
"Be still, there was no poison," Cyrus says, standing before the group and delivering yet another message, his arms opening wide as if embracing his followers, assuring them that he hadn't just sealed their fates. "Instead, a test of faith," Cyrus continues. You and Spencer look at each other in relief, your eyes saying everything you can't say out loud as Cyrus gets more and more irate as he speaks, sounding like a true Cult leader in his delivery. "Because your adversary, the devil, waltzes about as a roaring lion! Choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother's keeper."
The congregation begins to thin as they disperse, returning to their rooms or to their assigned chores. You're led via armed guard to the basement bunker with Spencer, separated from the community and imprisoned within the stone-walled space. You're left alone, though you don't doubt there's an armed disciple standing guard just outside the door.
You allow yourself to take a seat on the cold concrete floor to take a breath, knowing how close this had been to the real thing. The weight of the situation hangs heavy on your shoulders. If it had been a real mass suicide, all of those people would now be dead.
Your senses are on high alert and you're beginning to feel fatigue from being so acutely aware of your surroundings. You can sense that Spencer feels the same, but you persist. In a moment of quiet reflection as you are left alone with Spence, you pick up a bible you'd pocketed and absently flick through, allowing yourself to think of Aaron. You feel Spencer's attention on you, probably for your newfound interest in religious literature, but he keeps quiet.
You hope Aaron isn't panicking. You and Spencer are good agents, efficient, instinctual, but you know that he'll be out of his mind with worry regardless. You'd half expected him to pound down the door and throw every FBI resource at his disposal that he could command at the issue. You know he'd desperately want to, secretly, beneath the layers of professionalism and stoicism. You just hoped that his patience would hold out, that he'd trust your judgement and your abilities enough to not storm the door, especially if this turns nasty- and it will, eventually. But for now you carry on reading, observing, plotting.
"Benjamin Cyrus, real name Charles Mulgrew, convicted in Kentucky at the age of 18. 3 counts, statutory rapе. Mr. Kentucky warden said that once inside, mulgrew found religion, became a model citizen," Garcia says through the phone, relaying the information she'd found on Benjamin Cyrus. Morgan had interviewed the former sect-leader after he'd been brought to the scene and had managed to get the real name of Cyrus, allowing further investigation. Rossi, Hotch and Morgan gather round the speaker to hear the information, each of them looking increasingly tired and drained from the work and from the emotional toil.
"Well, it's not that hard to behave when you're in protective custody the whole time," Morgan says.
"General population's a rough place for a child molester," Hotch adds.
"No. No. I don't think you guys understand. He was a model citizen. This guy volunteered at the prison hospital, the aids ward, he was reading to prisoners dying of HIV," Garcia says quickly, her frantic typing audible.
"Good stuff," Morgan praises Penelope.
"Damn straight. Now get our friends back, baby."
She disconnects the call and all three men are quiet for a moment, most of them frowning from both the words and from concentration.
"Well, this makes things worse," Rossi says, breaking the silence.
"What? That he was a model citizen?" Morgan asks.
"That he's been to prison."
"He knows what happens to child molesters there," Derek catches on to Rossi's implication.
"If the current sеxual allegations are true and he thinks we know it, he's not coming out of there," Hotch adds, his mind reeling, a grave look upon his face as he voices the words he had been dreading.
"Then we have to make him think he's not going back."
"JJ, I need you to release a press statement saying that we have absolutely no evidence of sеxual allegations," Hotch calls out to JJ, who approaches suddenly from inside the room, her expression fixed into an unpleasantly morbid grimace. She ignores his instructions, making her way towards them with an ominous look.
"You need to see this," she says, placing down the laptop on the table as the men quickly gather around it. She presses play and they watch with increasing horror as the live USNT news report plays. Their heads are in their hands, their faces distorted into panic. Some stand, some remain frozen, all of them knowing how the odds had now tipped away from them, how dangerous this had now become for you and Spence.
Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Separatarian sect ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages but anonymous sources inside the state Attorney General's office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Separatarian sect ranch. Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There's still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone.
"Which one of you is it?"
Cyrus marches into the bunker where you and Reid are being held. His face is twisted into a scowl, his anger seeping from every fixed line of his face. He steps between you and Reid menacingly, opening his shirt and pulling out a handgun from the waistband of his denim pants. He reaches for it and brandishes it menacingly at the pair of you.
"Which one of you is the FBI agent?"
Your stomach drops, panic beginning to rise throughout your body that you try to force down, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You can't hide the fear in your eyes, realising the damage this information would do now. How had he found out?
"Why do you think one of us is an FBI Agent?" Reid asks, trying to appear confused and concerned, his voice weak. Your eyes flick to him, trying to act out the part, despite knowing that it wouldn't work now.
Cyrus is disillusioned, paranoid narcissist that will now believe that it's true, regardless of whatever you say. There's no talking your way out of this.
"God will forgive me for what I must do," he says, cocking the gun and raising it towards Reid. He points it directly at his head and you let out a staggered breath, your mouth opening wide in a silent protest, though no words come out.
"I-i don't know what you're talking about," Spencer says, his eyes blinking rapidly, his hands twitching by his sides. He's not convincing enough. Cyrus doesn't believe him.
"One of you does, who is it?" Cyrus replies insistently, completely shut off to any discussion. You do the only thing you can in that moment.
"Me, it's me," you say, looking towards Cyrus and avoiding Spencer's gaze, knowing that it would break your heart.
You feel his eyes on you, feel the emotions he's exuding but you focus your eyes on Cyrus, imploring him with your eyes to move the gun away from Reid.
Whatever happens now, Reid has a chance to get out safely. He'd built a rapport with Cyrus, he was another male, he was believable, he was a genius, he was the best hope you had.
The gun uncocks and he lowers it from Spencer's head. And then in a burst of anger, he reaches out for you and grabs you by the hair, pulling you up from your seat and out of the room, ignoring all of Spencer's protests as more of the men swarm in, their guns pointed at Spencer to force him to stay.
He drags you into the store room by your hair, throwing you down onto the ground as he stands over you menacingly, ready to strike at any moment.
"I told you not to put me in this position!" He strikes you across the face hard, knocking you off balance as you collapse back onto the floor. You raise your head towards him and immediately his knee rises swiftly up to kick you directly in the face. You cry out at the agony radiating over your nose and the rest of your face, the audible crunch of your nose cartilage echoing in your ears, sickening you as you feel the warm blood beginning to pour from your nostrils within seconds. You hadn't expected him to be so brutish, nor have the strength he's displaying. But you can't fight back, not in this scenario, you can only defend yourself.
"Get up!" He warns, moving closer to stand over you once again, his voice ominously low and dark as you take the brunt of his anger.
You scramble, trying to force him off of you as his hands reach out to grab at the material of your shirt to manipulate you into position. You try to block him but the blood seeping from your nose and the tears from the pain in your face has made your eyes blurry. You stand, still trying to push him away whilst he attacks again, raising his left hand to strike you directly across your cheekbone with a closed fist. The punch sends you flying and you stumble towards the wall with such a force that your head shatters the mirror on the wall. You cry out at the punch and at the impact, your chest wheezing from the brutality of the attack. Fragments of the mirror splinter around you, shattering into small shards that cover the floor. He doesn't give you a second to recover before his hands reach out for you again, pushing you with all his strength into the metal cabinet across the small room.
You cry out again, louder now as your shoulder bares the brunt of the slam, pain radiating through your shoulder and up your neck. You're panting, crying and in agony, but you won't let him win.
You focus your blurry eyes on Cyrus' collar, thinking of the bug. You think of Aaron, of how worried he'll be, of how angry he'll be at you for putting your life at risk like this, but you'd do it all over again to save Reid, even if it means you won't walk out of here alive. Then you remember, he can hear everything through the wire.
"Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil."
"I can take it."
"Oh, you can take it?"
Every person sat around the table feels sick to the stomach at the sound pouring through their headphones from Cyrus' wire, but none more than Aaron Hotchner. His face is contorted into an agonised frown, tears welling up in his eyes as he's forced to listen to the sounds of you being attacked. Your cries break his heart, he's desperate to get in there and save you, to take you away and leave this behind. He alternates between wearing the headphones and sliding them off, his head in his hands, his face showing the true torment he's feeling. He can't stay still, he can't listen to this anymore. Every hit, every cry, feels like he's the one being hurt, it's shattering him, agonising him.
Rossi looks much the same, wincing with each loud spam and cry from you, though he's determined to listen to the horror, listening for any sign from you. Morgan looks physically green, his eyes closed tight, his headphones only partially on his ears.
He's hovering over the decision to pull you out, to swarm the compound and end it all now, almost too blinded by his emotions to think clearly. He looks around desperately out of sheer torment, gazing at Rossi like he's pleading for someone to agree with him to swarm the blockade.
"Wait--wait. Listen to what she's saying," Rossi says, forcing them to listen closely.
Hotch doesn't want to, he can't listen to this anymore. He gives a look to Rossi that shows the trauma in his eyes, an unguarded view into his broken mentality. He isn't Hotch right now, he's Aaron. He's a man forced to listen to his loved one being tortured. The vulnerability and the pain in Hotch's eyes momentarily bewilders Rossi, but he persists. He raises his finger, gesturing to the sounds flowing through their headphones.
"I can take it," you repeat, panting heavily and sounding pained, though your words are said with conviction.
"Deuteronomy 9:19, 'For I was afraid of the anger and displeasure that the Lord bore against you, so that he was ready to destroy you. But the Lord listened to me that time also," you pant.
"You know nothing of the bible! Of the Lord!"
Cyrus looks crazed, his eyes wide and hateful. He lunges at you once again, his fist making contact with your agonised nose. The blood pours even more quickly down your face now, flowing into your mouth, down your shirt.
"Deuteronomy 9:20- And the Lord was so angry with, Ah!" You begin to recite more, only to be pushed harshly to the floor, interrupting your recitation as you cry out when your agonised shoulder makes contact with the hard floor. You'd missed the vital part of your recitation but still you persisted. "He was ready to destroy him. And I prayed for him also at the same time."
"You dare quote scripture to me?" He shouts, reaching out for the collar of your shirt, forcing you to look at him.
"You've succumbed to Idolatry like the first high priest of Israel." You ensure you're close enough to him for the words to be crystal clear, forcing your mouth to work even with the blood that seems to be pooling in.
"She's antagonizing him!" Morgan says in frustration, his gaze wild as he looks between Rossi and Hotch, the helplessness he felt overwhelming him.
"She's not talking to him," Rossi shakes his head.
"She's talking to us," Hotch clarifies, solemnly.
"Exodus 32:21- What did these people do to you, that you led them into such great sin?"
"The high priest of Israel?" Rossi asks, harkening back to your words. "Exodus, the scripture she's quoting can't be random."
His eyes find Morgan's, hoping for some hidden religious knowledge but he looks equally as lost.
"We sent the damn kid inside," he grumbles, momentarily lamenting that Reid would unsurprisingly know the answer. "Dan!" Rossi calls him over, "any chance you have a bible handy?"
"Can't say I do, why?"
"The first high priest of Israel? Exodus 32?" Rossi asks vaguely. The whole team grimace simultaneously as they are forced to listen to another pained cry.
"Well in the bible, it was Aaron."
Every set of eyes flash to Hotch, seeing the pain and the surprise in the chief's face beneath the harsh frown. Dan realises then exactly what she's quoting and why. "Exodus 32, it's the golden calf, Aaron's leadership failure under pressure of the impatient crowd of Israelites."
"She's speaking to Hotch," Morgan says, sounding amazed.
"She's telling us not to come in," Hotch says, looking away, down to the speaker.
"She's telling you not to send anyone in," Rossi clarifies. "No matter how desperately we want to end this now, we hold out."
"Pride comes before the fall."
One last pained cry echoes through the headphones and Aaron can't listen anymore. He throws down the headset, his head falling into his hands as he fights back the sobs, not allowing anyone to see the weakness that is forcing its way through every single one of his defences. He walks away from the table, unable to listen anymore, your cries echoing through his mind no matter how hard he fights to keep them out.
Morgan rises in his seat to go after Hotch but Rossi stops him with a raise of his hand, "let him go."
"Tie her up," the crackled voice says through the speakers as Rossi places the headphone back up to his ear. "Put her upstairs."
Warnings- Secret relationship, BAUAgent!Reader, yearning, violence. Hostage situations, cults, themes of religion and religious manipulation. Child endangerment. Guns. Extreme violence and dark themes. Mentions of injury, physical assault, broken bones and blood. Reader is assaulted by Cult leader in chapter 2. Mentions of suicide and mass suicide, please mind the tags, No sexual assault featured. Loosely based on the real events of Jonestown and Waco, please mind the trigger warnings. Kind of going for a southern gothic thing here (despite the Colorado setting).
Tags will be updated with every chapter.
Part 1: Stepped into a church, I passed along the way. [4.9k.]
Part 2: Well, I got down on my knees, and I pretend to pray. [4k.]
Part 3: You know the Preacher like the cold. [6.3k.]
