Illegal underground borrower fight club where kidnapped tinys are forced by evil humans to fight each other. The humans place bets on which tiny will win and the human “owners” train the borrowers they guy or kidnap to be better at fighting.
The new fighting borrowers are thrusted into fights suddenly and often don’t survive. Sometimes new ones refuse to hurt their own kind and loose as a result. The more experienced fighting borrowers fight more and more and eventually become desensitized to the violence and start to “enjoy” the fights and winning them, along with the praise they get by their human captors.
Eventually, through outside borrowers or good humans, or both, the fight club is shut down and the fighting borrowers are saved and don’t have to fight anymore, but the experienced ones who became used to the fighting struggle to adjust to life outside, and need help from other humans and borrowers to move on.
Pierce my flesh, reach in past the rib cage, and yank my heart free—bloody and gloriously grotesque in your hands, a smile on your face as you examine it. Is it warm? Is it good? Does it hurt to hold? Is it beating? Is it good?
Will you wipe the tears from my face? Will you wipe the tears from my face? Will you—
The interior lights in the train carriage flicker, dim, and extinguish.
(ultimate part of this challenge is writing in present tense omg)
The interior lights in the train carriage flicker, dim, and extinguish. Oscar holds his his breath, instintively, and then, a second behind, hits the floor, keeping as low as he can. The sound of a scuffle, bodies fighting as quietly as possible but still audible in the pitch-blackness, and Oscar crawls, chest brushing against the floor. He doesn't have a gun. It would have blown his cover, and he's a terrible shot anyway. Everyone says being a technical asset is for softies who don't want to get their hands dirty. Nose to the floor of the train carriage, industrial carpet giving him rope burn, listening to the people who want to kill him wrestling with the one person in charge of keeping him safe, Oscar wants to punch those people in the throat.
His hand collides with the wall, the end of the carriage. The only sounds are heavy breathing, fabric rustling, and the clattering of the train, onwards, onwards, up into the mountains, further from anyone who could help. He gropes along the seats. He doesn't think about who is winning the fight. His mind is full of the senses of the dark. The feel of the carpet, the smell of his own sweat, the pounding of his heart in his ears. His hand lands on a leg. and he bites his lip hard to keep from screaming or yelling or breathing, and keeps reaching up. His hand is wet, and when he holds it to his nose, the warm, iron smell of blood. Dead then.
Their bag is tidily under their seat. His luck to get the tidy and conscientious international criminal. The phone, the laptop, the second phone, all of it there under his fingers in the dark. He could identify memory cards in his sleep. He crawls away, a random direction for lack of a better option. If they killed the target, they know where he was sitting. Maybe they'll lose their bearings.
Silence. None of the grunting and fumbling of men trying to kill each other. Oscar holds his breath again. No panic, because what would be the point. Either he's dead or--
A bright light, right on his face, and he flinches away, hand over his eyes.
"Fucking hell," he swears, blinking, night vision completely fucking gone, but then the torchlight swings away and it's Carlos, silhouetted in the light thrown off the beam. He's bleeding from a scratch over his eye, and there's blood - someone elses - on his hands.
"Took you long enough," Oscar says. Carlos rolls his eyes.
"Next time, I will give you the gun and you can protect me while I collect a bag from a man who cannot even fight back," he says.
"You didn't even use your gun," Oscar says, clutching the bag of devices closer to his chest. There's no way he's allowing Carlos to even look at the devices. He'd brick them in a second.
Noise from the next carriage over, and light moving through the glass door. Carlos pulls his gun from his shoulder holster, and holds it easily, one-handed, over his torch. "Stay down," he says, moving slowly towards the door. Oscar scoots back to get the laptop open, his fingers illuminated by the screen. Carlos would keep him safe while he worked.
Reader and Hotchner are married and reader is extremely pregnant. It’s kinda like season 1 episode 22 where hotch sends Elle home but instead it's the reader. And similar events take place, except the reader is kidnapped instead of shot. And it’s a quest to find and save her.
Stay safe, be smart || [Aaron Hotchner x Pregnant!Reader]
A/N: Thank you for the request! This will be a little break between the new sbmws update, since it is taking a bit longer to flesh out. It sounded super interesting and high stakes to me so I hope you enjoy it. It was interesting to write something a lot more case based than what I am used to writing. So if anyone has any more requests please let me know!
WC: 3.3K
Tags: Angst, violence, pregnancy, aaron x reader, pregnant reader, 18+ case mentions, implied violence, death and murder, fluff at the end I suppose.
Warnings: Case details, violence against pregnant women (no real violence described but implied), death, murder, general criminal minds content.
Aaron’s pov
The sun was beating down on the team as Aaron stepped out of the SUV. It was sweltering in the Phoenix heat. He opened the passenger door, helping you out of the vehicle. Married just a year, you were now pregnant and nearing your maternity leave date. “Thank you.” Your voice was honey sweet to him. Your hand in his before you took it to rest on your belly. He’d felt protective over you for weeks now. Afraid something would happen to you, or the precious little being growing inside of you. He’d asked you every week to take early leave, yet you, stubborn as ever, never agreed. Now he just tried to keep you safe in the field, and when he could put you on office duties.
This case was going to be a hard one.
Greeted by the local police, they led the team to the site where the last body was found. Opening the door of the shed made a wall of smell slam into his face. The crime scene was anything but pretty, with the weather the decomposition had set on quickly, leaving the non air conditioned shed they walked into one of the worst smelling scenes they had been to in a while. He knew it was bad when he had seen the picture, it was even worse in real life. When he heard you enter behind him it was only a moment before you bolted back out the door. “I’ll be right back.” Aaron said to the team before following you outside.
He knew what he would find, but still it pulled at his heart to see you hunched over, emptying your breakfast in a bush just a few feet away from the scene. Your nose had been extremely sensitive the past few weeks, he’d felt bad every time you mentioned just feeling nauseous from the smell of certain things. Jack’s soccer shoes for one, had been banished to the garage. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, walking over to gently rub your back as you heaved a sigh. Standing back up to full height once you felt confident enough that there wouldn’t be any more upchucking. “The smell, Aaron, it’s horrible.” You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “I know.” he offered an apologetic smile as he pulled you into a side hug. Pressing his lips chastely against your temple. “There’s a bottle of water in the SUV, I think you might need to sit this one out.” He tried to make his voice soothing, placating. He didn’t want you to protest against it.
“I can sit in the SUV, wait until we get back to the precinct and then work from there?” You said it like a question. Though it was clear you would rather be in the field, that was your place. Aaron nodded his head yes, “That sounds like a smart plan. We’ll get back as soon as possible.” He fished the keys to the SUV out of his pocket, handing them to you with a small, comforting smile. You took them, lips pressed in a thin line, nodding your head before taking off. Aaron walked back to the shed, ready to face the crime scene and finish up as quickly as possible.
The body was that of a woman, the third one in three weeks. Exactly a week apart, the unsub was consistent to say the least. The previous bodies had been thoroughly inspected, Aaron had no doubt they would find similar evidence on this woman. The previous bodies had been raped, but there was no semen left behind. The wounds were a near exact match, in the type, deep slashes on the limbs. Worst of all was the deep, surgical cut mirroring that of a C section. Each victim had been pregnant, the infants bodies were found close to the mother. He knew it was a tough case, emotionally it was going to be worse with you close. The idea of sending you home nestling in the back of his mind. Just in case. To be safe. But he also knew you would never agree. Which was still hard to accept.
When they got to the precinct Aaron put you on geographical profile duty together with Spencer. There you would be alright.
“Can’t I go help interview the family?” You spoke up, the rest of the team looked at you. Usually you had just accepted the task handed to you. Aaron looked up from the papers he had just gone to reorganize. “Are you not satisfied with your task, Y/N?” he quirked a brow, looking at you he noticed the shift in your body language. Something in you was determined to get out of the precinct and ‘be more useful’ as you would put it. “I just think that Reid does not need my help on the geographical profile. He’s perfectly capable of doing it himself. Like he has done the cases before.” You crossed your arms. Resting them on the protruding belly, with an arched brow that conveyed an air of annoyance. Aaron sighed, he didn’t want to let up, but you did have a point. Reid had managed fine on his own for the last few cases. “Fine, you can go with JJ to interview the families. But only for the interviews. Stay safe.” He gave in. His lips pressed into a thin line. He really didn’t want to play favorites. Yet he relented so easily at times like these. Your small triumphant smile was barely there but he got a glimpse of it before you turned to the door, leaving him alone to ponder why he even said yes.
“I thought I told you only the interviews!” Aaron had to take a deep breath, calm down, but his blood was rushing in his veins. If something happened to you, well, he wouldn’t forgive himself. You sat in the back of an ambulance, getting your wounds tended to. He had gotten to the scene as quickly as possible, racing from the precinct to the home of the family. “Thanks to me we have a suspect in custody.” You retorted, wincing as you moved your arms. There was a deep cut that looked to be made with glass, scrapes on your knees that tore straight through the pants. “You could have ruined the entire case. We don’t know if this is the unsub. We didn’t even have a profile yet.” he continued to scold. When he heard you had attacked a man, who was lingering around the house of the family, he knew he had made the wrong choice in letting you go. “He was stalking them! Clearly a sign of a killer checking up on the devastation he has caused.” you raised your voice. A certain mix of anger and panic mingling in the sound of it.
Aaron sighed, pinching his furrowed brow, you had gotten hurt. “Go to the hotel. You are off the case.” his voice sounded cold to him. It must have sounded even colder to you. “W-what?” You stumbled over the word. He looked back at you, to see your jaw slack, eyes wide in confusion. “You are off the case. I can’t have an agent running around and attacking anyone with no probable cause. We need evidence, not intuition.” He explained. You closed your mouth. A deep swallow as you nodded your head. He could see your jaw tick, holding back from saying anything. “I’m sorry… I’ll see you for dinner.” He whispered but you looked away, eyes cast to the ground as though looking at him would hurt. He felt a tug at his heart. It was for the best. You would be safe in the hotel. He made a mental note to bring your favorite food to make it up to you.
Your pov.
Aaron was right. You had been reckless, even more so than usual. Now you were just reaping what you sowed. The wound on your arm stung, so did your knees. Everything had been cleaned with alcohol and bandaged up nicely by the medics on scene. JJ had stayed with you and drove you back down to the hotel, but you didn’t feel like going inside just yet. Being stuck in a stuffy room with just your thoughts didn’t sound that appealing. And you probably wouldn’t be able to nap. The little one in your belly was using your lungs as their own personal punching bag.
There was a park nearby the hotel, and a stroll in the slowly cooling late afternoon sounded nice. So you had changed into a flowy skirt, since you wouldn’t be doing any running after unsubs anymore. The pants you were wearing were delegated to the trashcan in your hotel room. The afternoon air was still incredibly hot but more bearable compared to earlier in the day. The park was spacious, you walked towards the playground where laughter sounded out from the multiple young children running around. Soon you’d have one of your own children begging you to play tag, going down the slide with them. You smiled to yourself, placing your hand on your belly again, absentmindedly stroking it in a comforting motion.
You watched for a while, though an unsettling feeling crept up the back of your spine. The hairs on your neck began to stand on end. Having a look around to see if anything suspicious was happening. Maybe you were over reacting. Overly sensitive due to hormones and the entire proceedings of the day. This is what got you kicked off the case. Scolding yourself internally for letting this feeling take over. You left the park, maybe it would be better to stay at the hotel. At Least you won’t get the impending feeling of dread there.
“‘scuse me miss.” A voice said, you looked up to see a man approaching you. Your guard immediately went up. “Can I help you?” You asked, trying to quell the thoughts of mistrust. “Just wanted to ask if you knew the way to the art museum.” He seemed innocent enough. Dark black hair, a clean shave, nice white blouse with no stains. No clear markers that would need you to be on guard. “I’m sorry, I am just here for the week. I don’t know.” You said honestly, though internally cursing yourself for revealing you were not native to the area. A stupid mistake, though it wouldn’t matter if there was nothing to fear. “Ah alright, thanks anyways.” He flashed a charming smile before taking a few steps to walk past.
You let out a soft sigh. See. No reason to be so nervous. You scolded yourself internally. Taking a few steps back in the direction of the hotel before you felt a pinch in your neck, a hand clasped over your mouth and everything went dark.
When you opened your eyes it was still dark, slowly adjusting to the surroundings. Your hands were tied down to a bed, along with our legs and straps around your torso. Neck incredibly stiff from whatever happened. Lights turned on, blinding you, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden influx of bright, white light. “You’re probably wondering where you are right now.” A voice called out from over speakers. Training kicked in, knowing it wasn’t smart to engage the unsub in any way like this. They want a reaction, something that allows them to relish in the fear they have created. Biting your tongue you stayed quiet.
“Well, it doesn’t matter where you are. Because you won’t leave.”
Aaron’s pov
When Aaron entered the hotel room the lights were off. He noticed just how silent it was. Usually you would be tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable when taking a nap. But it was still early. He walked in quietly, trying to not disturb you if you had finally managed to get some well deserved rest. He felt horrible for kicking you off the case, but it was the smartest thing for him to do. The bag of take out rustled in his hand when he put it on the small desk pressed against the wall. Turning to look at the bed, it was still pristinely made, no sign of you. The only sign that you had been there was the pair of pants that laid in the garbage can.
His blood ran cold. There could be a simple explanation. You went out for a walk. Or down to the lobby for some tea. He quickly took his phone out of his pocket. Hoping that you wouldn’t be too angry to pick up. Dialing your contact, it rang once before immediately heading to voicemail. Your chipper voice saying your name on the other end of the line did nothing to calm his increasingly quickly beating heart. He called again. Same thing. His hands began to feel just a little clammy. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Please text me.’ ‘Are you okay?’ All his text messages arrived but weren’t opened.
He dialed JJ’s number. Who picked up almost instantly. “You went to the hotel with y/n, right?” He asked, his voice strained. “Yes, I watched her walk inside.” JJ sounded a little confused, he could almost hear the frown in her voice. “She’s not here. I can’t reach her, and she never turns off her phone.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you in the lobby. I’ll try and call her.” She suggested it before hanging up the phone. Aaron left the room, leaving the take out behind to grow cold in favor of looking for you.
When he reached the lobby not only was JJ there, she had apparently informed the rest of the team. All sitting in the leather chairs around a short table. “I can’t reach her either.” JJ spoke up as soon as she saw him. “We’ve all been trying.” Spencer chimed in. His eyes held a certain fear. It was the least comforting feeling knowing that no one on the team could reach you. “She is the unsub’s type. We have to assume that they got her, and we need to be quick.” Aaron’s voice didn’t sound like his own to him. Having to take a certain distance away from the personal part of what was happening. He didn’t want to assume the worst, but he knew he had to. They had a profile and a geographical one too, atleast. A male, who likely lost his wife or girlfriend during childbirth, along with the child. Looking for a replacement, and when the baby doesn’t look like the one he lost, he gets rid of it. A harrowing thought.
“Alright, I will call Garcia to trace her phone. Maybe we can see where it last pinged.” Derek voiced. A smart idea. Aaron couldn’t really think, his mind reeling with things that could have happened to you. “Thank you.” He said and nodded his head. “Prentiss, Rossi, could you canvas the area of overlap in the geographical profile? Take Reid if you must. We know they take the victims to a secondary location, look for something isolated, something that won’t be noticed.” He added, looking at the three agents. “JJ, could you talk with the precinct? Get the police out on the street, looking for signs of y/n or foul play.” JJ nodded her head in return. “Alright, any information you call me, let's go.” Aaron nodded his own head, trying to instill some form of confidence in himself. It was hard.
Aaron kept tabs on everything as minutes ticked by, they seemed like hours. Penelope called with the last ping of your phone, apparently when he had first called it still pinged before it was turned off. Perhaps the unsub scrambling after making a mistake. You did keep your phone in an unusual place just in case. He remembered when he first saw you put your phone in the side of your boot, a strange habit he quickly began to find endearing. Derek, JJ, and himself got into one of the SUV’s as they got the information. JJ went to call Emily to meet them at the last ping place. An ambulance was called for backup, along with some of the agents from the precinct.
As they raced down a dusty road out of the city, the fear began to take over again. With what happened with Hailey, he couldn’t lose anyone else. He didn’t think that he would be able to bear that. His mind reeled with the idea of having to tell Jack what happened. Losing another mother figure, he didn’t know what damage that would do to him. And his unborn sibling. It would be his worst nightmare. His jaw set, trying not to think the dark thoughts, wanting to remove them from his mind. You were going to be okay. They were going to find you alive and well.
When they spotted a dilapidated white van in the distance, next to a small barn he knew they were in the right spot. “Stop the car, we can’t let him know we’re here.” Aaron instructed, Derek slowed down, parking the car about 20 feet away, hoping the engines didn’t give them away. The second black SUV pulled up next to them. “First, the van, we need to check that no one is inside, then we go to the barn.” He instructed the agents. All geared up in their vests and checking their sidearms. They moved together to the van, no one seemed to be in the driver's seat. The back doors were unlocked and when they opened them Aaron’s stomach dropped. Screens lined one wall, with a computer set up rivaling that of their tech analyst. 2 screens, still lit up with a live camera feed. Two different angles that showed you, tied to a bed, a gag in your mouth. A figure standing over you, dressed in surgical gowns. This was all being recorded.
He stormed out the van, taking the gun from his holster and getting it ready. He walked over to the barn door, the unsub was stupid enough to not lock anything. Maybe it was arrogance. But it made his work a lot easier. He nodded towards Derek, who kicked the door in. “Hands up, drop the knife.” Aaron called as he raised his gun, walking into the barn. The man looked up from you, having a big knife in hand he froze. Looking down for a quick second in contemplation. “Whatever you are thinking of doing, don’t. You are surrounded, either step away from her and put the knife down or face the consequences.” He could feel the blood rushing through his ears, anger and fear colliding inside of him. What he wanted to do was shoot him, punish him for hurting you. But he knew that wouldn’t be the intelligent thing to do. The man stepped away, reluctantly, and from a few feet away he dropped the knife.
Aaron walked over to you, quick strides as he holstered his gun. His hands were shaking as he reached you. Looking at the small cuts on your arms. The wound from earlier that day reopened. He ungagged you, watching as tears started to spill from your eyes, hearing repeated apologies fall from your lips. “Shh… no, I’m sorry. I was so worried. I’m sorry.” He shushed, petting your hair, letting the soft locks slip between his fingers. He quickly worked to unbuckle your limbs and body from the bed. As soon as he could he picked you up, holding you close. As if he could still lose you if he didn’t. “I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry. I got you now.” He mumbled, his hands holding you tightly as he felt your unregulated breathing against his neck. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should have just thought.” You apologized and he shook his head.
“It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re safe.” He picked you up, taking you to the ambulance and not leaving your side again.
