joneskennedy-blog

[joneskennedy-blog]

fatecrossed:

                   he felt like an ass before he had to even start  ––  but hey,  at least this time it was reid and prentiss getting on him instead of garcia.  that meant something,  right?  the corners of his mouth push up into a smile that somewhat represented a grimace to hint at the initial awkwardness in his system.  it’s not something that he can avoid,  though.  tension is the last thing that the team needs,  and even if she wasn’t in the field yet,  it was still applicable.  

                   “i realize i haven’t been the most welcoming to you,  and wanted to apologize.  i don’t mean to try and push you to the outskirts.”

she studied the minuscule expressions casted upon his features, her head tilting to a modest degree in curiosity. it was true, yes; agent morgan had not been welcoming in slightest, his reasons rather foreign to the psychologist. the possibilities were endless for his distrust, actually. perhaps he feared change. perhaps he treated new members similarly. perhaps. perhaps not. but it did not change the fact that it hurt, for she had done nothing but attempt to form a friendly bond with derek.

as he spoke, kennedy lowered her gaze onto her textbook, memorizing the page number, and closing it. the agent bid him a curt nod of understanding. “uh—yeah. i—” jones cleared her throat. “hey. i get it, okay? i mean . . . change is scary. i—” she shook her head. there was no need to preach her psychologist speech. “and besides. you’re probably worried i’ll replace you as the muscles of the team, right?” terrible attempt at a joke. // @fatecrossed​

#[ &&. fatecrossed ] #[ * fatecrossed • derek morgan &&. kennedy jones ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

dr-dilaudid:

With hesitation, Spencer sat upright and looked at Kennedy. His eyes were sunken, hair rooting at the base of his chin. “The average reader doesn’t read a physical book in this sort of day. Either online, tablet or those electric reading devices. And Faulkner is most definitely not on there.” Reid stumbled on his words rubbing his neck softly as he looked to his lap. “She was the only one to have the sort of knowledge I do about him. Nobody else seems to care about the past anymore.” He was whispering now, the conversation draining him physically and emotionally. The first Sunday without her had been brutal, as Spencer had gone out of his way to locate a payphone he’d not had a conversation with her on yet, dressed, and even showered. It was when he had grabbed his keys when he released she wouldn’t be there to redial.

“Typically most fasting subjects lose their appetite over the course of time due to the lack of digestion coursing through their body.” Spencer affirmed, pushing hair over his ear. He looked to the coffee table beside her, the one book he’d yet to pick up after all these days sitting next to the other doctor. “So in conclusion: I’m not hungry.”

Something rose in Spencer as the young woman began to speak, causing him to shake his head. “No, you don’t truly get it. You haven’t had the best person you’ve ever met be taken away from you by a psychotic bitch. You might’ve lost some people in your time but they knew that you loved them. Kennedy the last words she heard from me were that I didn’t love her. And that kills me every day for not saying it sooner. For not being able to save her, I should’ve done something, I could’ve-” Reid’s emotions took their toll finally, breaking him down to pure tears, just as they had when Maeve collapsed in front of him, without any way of him being able to save her.

The urge to refute his statements with common sense bubbled within her being, though she swallowed the desire to do so as she focused her attention upon the takeout menu she discovered hidden within a manila folder. Kennedy studied the menu, analyzing the markings briefly. “You seem to have circled Indian Lamb Curry an abundance of times. And Indian Samosa.” She turned his stance to be facing the genius, tilting her head to a slight degree. “You good with that?” Though before she granted him the opportunity to reply, Kennedy withdrew her cellular device from her pocket and searched for a phone number.

The instant Spencer’s shouting commenced was the moment Jones’s phone clattered onto the flooring. The vast majority of times, Kennedy struggled with any situations that involved yelling, for she was never the one to believe that arguing in a harsh manner was beneficial for the parties involved; and, quite frankly, the action of hollering tended to frighten her. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her stance shifted sideways. She inhaled. “I do get it, though. Truly.” The agent approached the male tentatively, her strides minimal and meek. “I lost three people that I loved to a psychotic . . . you know. So . . . I do get it.” The woman sniffled, crinkled her nose, and adjusted the frames of her glasses as she shook her head.

“Spencer—” The corners of her lips twitched downward. “She . . . she knew. She knew you loved her. She . . . she knows you love her. You have to believe that.” Despite all the psychological training she possessed, she had no idea what to say. She had no idea what to do. She just wanted him happy. Safe. // @dr-dilaudid​

#[ * dr-dilaudid ] #[ * dr-dilaudid • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new friends | season eight. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

she nibbled on her inner cheek, her eyes trained onto the textbook sprawled along her lap. her toes curled, a quirk she became acquainted with as she concentrated intensely upon a subject. due to lack of training, jones was not permitted to venture in the field quite yet; thus, facilitating the agent’s urge to study the anatomy of a gun. kennedy was a valuable addition to the team, yes, though she couldn’t help but feel useless at times, for she rarely had to place herself in the line of fire.

the woman’s gaze perked upward, the tapping of her pen halting as she stared forward at her co-worker, derek morgan. “uh—yeah. yeah.” // @fatecrossed

@joneskennedy

                   the jet is quiet after the success of a long case,  reid’s quiet hum of a snore being the only interruption to the otherwise stillness.  the majority of the team had drifted off into sleep in one form or another but he’d stayed up restlessly,  a little bugged by the telling off that he’d gotten from both reid and prentiss.  getting up to move down a set of seats on the jet,  he sank into the seat across from the newest agent of the team.

                   “hey,  jones,  you got a minute?”

#[ * fatecrossed ] #[ * fatecrossed • derek morgan &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

fatecrossed:

                   a curious eyebrow quirked at the little stuttering and correcting that comes from the younger agent’s lips and she can’t help the mischievous smirk that had already managed to pull itself across her features.  “i don’t mean to pry,  but…”  who the hell is she kidding? a little office gossip here and there was a glorious thing.  not to mention that she cared for the wellbeing of the entire time,  and this happened to seem relevant for the moment.  “is there something going on between you and spencer?  you can tell me,  you know.”

the moment kennedy detected a subtle smirk upon prentiss’s expression was the second she desired to cease her existence. directing her eyes onto the floor and tapping her foot anxiously were distinct signs that the agent had grown embarrassed. a crimson hue tinted her cheekbones. “um—quite the . . . assumption, ag—emily.” perhaps referring her to her first name rather than her formal title—as she normally did—in hopes to showcase she was now on a first name basis with her colleagues; yet, kennedy’s flustered demeanor surely gave the answer away. “but . . . uh, no. nothing is going on between dr. reid and me.” // @fatecrossed​

#[ * fatecrossed ] #[ * fatecrossed • emily prentiss &&. kennedy jones. ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

dr-dilaudid:

it had taken spencer at least a week to properly accept that the one woman he ever had any remote sign of a romantic relationship with was dead. it took him another half of a week to finally run out of different outcomes of the case. though the doctor knew he did the right thing and figured out the way into diane’s head, he also knew there wasn’t anything more he could’ve done. he’d tried his best to just stop thinking and try to start escaping his own thoughts. 

he’d been reckless, barely functioning on bitter cofee and toast, not having the will to find his way to the supermarket for butter and sugar. the fiber alone would keep his body from failing on him, the coffee being the constant factor to his days he couldn’t quit. he’d gone through at least 1/3 of his extensive library in a week, moving to the next third as he ignored calls from others, work and services. spencer had decided to pick up the multiple packages outside of his door earlier, not locking the door behind him before returning to his couch. 

kennedy’s presence wasn’t something he didn’t expect. eventually someone would come in, key or no key, his teammates were that determined.  her words prompted a quick response to her. “the probability of my apartment being robbed with me in it is low enough as it is, not to mention i have nothing but books in here so there’s no motive to break in. to follow with your next question, the human body can survive three weeks without food. ghandi didn’t eat for 21 days.” he spoke with zero emotion, not even so much as a glance to the woman. “why are you here kennedy.” 

kennedy had interacted with many individuals who underwent psychological breakdowns, for her former occupation entitled her to such; and though she had seen many instances where her client was hardly functioning, she barely had the mere strength to look upon her colleague. and yet, her jaded irises were solely fixated upon spencer, observing his every movement. studying his meek mannerisms. but she could not form any certain conclusion on how to counsel the genius. she didn’t know what to say. she didn’t know how to act.

jones approached cautiously, settling her body mass onto his coffee table. her gaze was gentle. her expression was soft. “you never know,” she began, forcing a docile smile. “someone could be into william faulkner just like you.” it was a pitiful effort induce a grin from reid; yet, with the mention of a feeble joke and his favored author, she could only anticipate for a reaction. she could only hope to sever his hardened shell of protection.

“supposedly—according to the british medical journal—some survived up to forty days of starvation.” facts and statistics cheered spencer up on occasion; but it was a mystery whether or not it could now. kennedy lowered her teeth onto her bottom lip. “but—you’re not gandhi, nor michael peel’s test subjects. so—” she paused momentarily. “i’m here because i care about you, spencer. and i know what it’s like for someone you . . . care about to be taken away.” her emerald eyes lowered. she then stood, walking into the kitchen in search of takeout menus. “are you in the mood for indian? gandhi would approve.”

#[ * dr-dilaudid ] #[ * dr-dilaudid • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new friends | season eight. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

plotted starter ft. @dr-dilaudid

worrisome afflicted the woman’s ability to concentrate, for the mere thought of spencer wallowing in the midst of his sorrowful woes drove her attention elsewhere. it was safe to claim that kennedy and spencer were moderately close; such a bond—though minimal—was enough to perturb her mentality; thus, the woman bid farewell to her colleagues, claiming to have felt ill, and disappeared. she was never the one to lie, oh no; though under certain circumstances, the doctor deemed it to be appropriate.

in merely twenty minutes, jones arrived. she called out to him, but there was no reply. she expected so, but she did not give up so easily. jiggling the doorknob, kennedy discovered it to be unsecured. with hesitation, the agent poked her head through a minuscule crack, scanning her surroundings. books littered the floor. the curtains were drawn shut. all lights were off. she sighed as she stepped through the archway, closing the door behind her.

“you know, it’s not very safe to leave your door unlocked, spencer,” she spoke, rounding the corner of the couch, coming into proximity of her fellow doctor. the corners of her lips twitched downward into a deepened frown, a pang of concern bubbling within her belly. she had never seen the man in such a state; stubble prickled his jawline, purple bags hung beneath his eyes, his expression emotionless. kennedy jutted her tongue forward to moisten her lips, her gaze lowering away from him. she paused. “have you eaten?” // @dr-dilaudid

#[ * dr-dilaudid ] #[ * dr-dilaudid • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new friends | season eight. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

continuation // @prettyboygcnius​

It did not take much to comprehend that Spencer acquired a blissful attitude throughout the course of the day. It was nice to see the doctor in such a positive mood, for his happy vibe radiated amongst the office, brightening the mundane atmosphere. All smiles and laughter were exchanged today; it was refreshing, quite frankly. Yet, all good days must end. The team bid each other farewell, the majority of them returning to their homes to rest themselves for the next investigation. Kennedy had left in a hurry, her urge to curl along her cushioned couch far too superior to grant her to stay. Nonetheless, she came to the realization she had forgotten her cellular device; ergo, she returned to headquarters.

She expected no one to be there. Yet, the bullpen was inhabited by a figure, soon identified as her fellow doctor. Kennedy opened her maw to acknowledge her presence, but his sudden outburst in song halted her action. Her head was tilted. Her eyes were wide. Her expression was animated. Jones had never seen—nor heard—the man sing. Though she was not a professional, she did deem Reid to have the ability to carry a tune.

And then he noticed her.

Embarrassment settled within the pit of her stomach. She had been staring at him. “I—uh. . . I did,” she responded, desperately resisting the yearn to smile. But she couldn’t help it. A breathy laugh fell through her ajar lips, her giggle fluttering in the atmosphere delicately. “Forgive me—um . . .” She laughed once more. Your guitar solo was my favorite, by the way, Spencer. You’re right up there with Steve Lukather. Toto might just have some competition.”

Kennedy traipsed past the bewildered Reid, offering him a smile of reassurance that it was okay . . . and there was nothing to be humiliated about. She reached her desk and grasped onto her phone, turning back to face him. “You know—I actually know a thing or two about music therapy. Singing actually not only has benefits for your heart, but also has emotional, social, and cognitive benefits.”

#[ * prettyboygcnius ] #[ * prettyboygcnius • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

idyllicism:

There were times in life when it was obvious that people didn’t want to talk about things, and quite often, bottling things up seemed easier. Emily had been there, but that wasn’t going to stop her from worrying, and she knew better than to let that happen now with the team. The BAU were stronger as a whole, and she didn’t want Kennedy to feel like she was on her own in whatever was going on. “ Are you sure? You know you can talk if you need to. We’re a team, Kennedy. ”

She never spoke of her past horrors. She never felt the stark urge to do so. Hypocritical, yes, for she preached the belief that expressing our demons assisted the mind to heal. But she never uttered any form of expression in regards to the nightmares that haunted her. She didn’t deem it necessary in her state. Kennedy bit down onto her tongue and glimpsed at Emily, shaking her head slowly. “It’s just an anniversary,” she informed. From what she understood, only Hotchner was aware of her past woes about her family. Quite frankly, Jones desired to keep it that way. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Emily . . . being a team was built on trust . . . she just had grown tired of the communicated sympathies. // @idyllicism​

#[ * idyllicism ] #[ * idyllicism • emily prentiss &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

Kennedy’s knees were pressed against her chest, her slender legs twisted into a comfortable position as she stared out of the airplane’s window. Her elbow was perched on the arm of the chair, the palm of her hand resting against her cheek. She glanced over onto her colleague, offering him a tightened—somewhat forced—smile. “If only it was that easy, Agent Morgan.” // @dencuement

@joneskennedy​ liked for a lyric-starter  | still accepting

→ ( light in the hallway by pentatonix )

           ❝ count your blessings every day. it           makes the monsters go away. ❞

#[ * dencuement ] #[ * dencuement • derek morgan &&. kennedy jones. ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

prettyboygcnius:

The concerned doctor can’t even bring himself to smile lightly at her gentle jokes; he knew it was only a bloody nose, but any pain on his account was taken very seriously in his eyes. “ I-i-it’s not the atmosphere, Kennedy, I just hit you in the face with a glass door, ” His eyes were wide as he stares at her, watching her like a hawk as she pinches her nostrils in order to stop the blood flow.

His attention follows hers down to the stain on her shirt, and another wave of guilt crashes in his stomach; he holds his hands out, placing two gangly hands on her shoulders in a panicked gesture to assure her that he’d make it up to her. “ I-I-I’ll run back to your apartment for you. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it, okay? ”

“ Everything alright over here? ”

Hotchner approaches Reid from behind, dark eyes studying the trail of quickly cooling coffee strewn across the floor and the bloodied tissues at the entrance of Kennedy’s nose – he raises his eyebrows. “ Jones, are you alright? ”

A sigh fell passed her ajar lips, her eyes glazing along the male’s form. “The humidity is below fifteen percent today, Spencer. It could…easily be because the absence of water vapor.” Surely, her reassurances inevitably would not urge the doctor to reevaluate his worrisome nature, for Spencer Reid was immensely stubborn. There was no transforming his thoughts. There was no assuaging his guilt.

“What? No.” Kennedy shook her head. “My apartment is precisely twenty-two minutes out, minus any traffic incidents and the possibility of being behind someone who drives below the speed limit.” She perfected her posture, withdrew the tissue from her nose, and peered down onto the paper. The blood flow seemed to have steadied its pace, though droplets continued to drip every moment or so. Jones crumbled the Kleenex into a wad and cautiously—careful of the spilled coffee—traipsed forward and tossed it away into a nearby trashcan. “Besides, I have a cardigan in my desk.”

The doctor sniffled as she pinched down onto her nose yet again, glancing to her right to at the voiced concerns belonging to her boss. “’M fine, sir.” Kennedy bid him a curt nod, her emerald irises peering towards the resident genius beside her. “The estimated duration of a nosebleed is between five and ten minutes; seeing as it has been roughly four minutes and the bleeding has already begun to slow down, I assume that I’m fine.” Jones allowed herself to look into the hazel eyes that belonged to Reid and offered him a tight-lipped grin, her gesture motivated to ameliorate his concerns. “Um—Sir,” she began, looking over to Hotch. “Perhaps the bureau should invest in humidifiers. The air—” she pointed her index finger upward and twirled the digit—“seems to be dry.”  // @prettyboygcnius​

#[ * prettyboygcnius ] #[ * prettyboygcnius • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

follow my two criminal minds rps : @garciapenelope &&. @derekmorganidk . i follow back if you are a rp account !! 

#[ * ooc ] #promo #[ * garciapenelope ] #[ * derekmorganidk ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

kennedy’s gaze was fixated upon departure of the two male agents, her mouth agape. she heard the muffled tone of emily’s voice, though her words were mere white noise. “i’m sorry?” she cleared her throat, her attention shifting back onto the agent before her, the woman offering her a tight-lipped smile. “no . . . no. uh—spen—dr. reid already extended an offer of doing so.” Jones crinkled her nose, fumbling with her glasses. “but—um . . . thank you, agent prentiss.” // @fatecrossed

@joneskennedy

                   “hey,  kennedy,”   her voice is soft in approaching the newer agent,  waiting until spencer and derek had disappeared from the bullpen in the midst of the some conversation.  “i know it can be hard adjusting to this team,  trust me.  and derek’s got a skull thicker than a brick wall sometimes.  do you want me to talk to him?”

#[ * fatecrossed ] #[ * fatecrossed • emily prentiss &&. kennedy jones. ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

fatecrossed:

                   normally derek would have been the first to point out intra team profiling but like the rest of the team,  he could be a little bit of a hypocrite with that particular rule.  it was damn near unavoidable and sometimes they forgot the line between what was considered being a normal friend or coworker and what was actually profiling one another.  when she started to go off at him,  thick eyebrows furrow toward each other in confusion.  perhaps the bit of profiling that he had been doing toward her hadn’t been quite as accurate as he had planned.  derek took a deep breath and held back the sigh that wanted to escape once she had finished her spiel,  his shaved head quickly shaking side to side to try and dissipate some of her apparent fear about what he thought.  “jones,  i don’t hate you.”  he started,  straightening up.  “you’re new,  yeah.  i don’t have to tell you that.  but i don’t like people getting in my personal business,  new or not.”

kennedy’s toes crinkled. her fingers meekly tapped against her upper thigh. the doctor was never keen over confrontation, particularly with the individuals she had recently become acquainted with. due to the doctor’s lack of friendships, she tended to withhold any retorts and refutes in fear of losing the possibility of a bond; yet, she couldn’t help it. perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep. or perhaps it was because the anniversary of her family’s murder was rapidly approaching. jones averted her gaze away from the male’s prying eyes. what was she to say? kennedy fought the urge to sputter out an apology, and yet, the yearning to do so broke through. “sorry,” she mumbled. // @fatecrossed​

#[ * fatecrossed ] #[ * fatecrossed • derek morgan &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

The doctor’s lips twitched upward into a delicate grin as she viewed the man before her. “On top of that, the vast majority of the world’s population prefers consuming hot brewed teas, yet studies conclude that iced tea actually has more health benefits, seeing as the agitation for the cold helps with the release of the antioxidants.” Kennedy bit down onto her lower lip, bowing her head forward. “But I’m sure you already knew that.” She lifted her travel mug, sipping down her own peach iced tea. “What do you prefer, Dr. Reid? Hot or iced?” // @eidetic187

@joneskennedy answered the call

        { ♜ } “Tea is the most widely consumed beverage in the world, after water.”

#[ * eidetic187 ] #[ * eidetic187 • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * verse | tbd. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

doctoragent:

Spencer was keen to help when he can - if it’s something that could be helped, Her obvious misconceptions about the Death Star could be helped if she was one to see reason. “Impossible? I-I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.” He shook his head in amusement and disbelief. She may not believe, but she couldn’t dispute the evidence that it IS possible. “Actually, a popular theory among astrophysicists estimate the power needed to power a hypermatter reactor that could destroy a planet the size of earth is about 10x32nd joules of energy, and if you think about it, while it couldn’t have been created in 19 years, like Luke said, it is definitely possible, especially given the advancements made in modern technology.” He smiled at her, free and without malice or condescension. “I don’t mind,” he said about her comment on rambling. “I’m told that I do it too.”

“Yes! Um, I find your views on the subject matter … interesting. I couldn’t sleep and your dissertation was pretty good. Writings from undergrads, or students are usually elementary, but they’re good for fresh eyes. Ideas are constantly changing and traditional theories are challenged. Even if they’re wrong, it’s good to see different perspectives. Nonetheless, yours showed signs of experience, like you’ve been studying your topic for a while.” By the time he finished, his words were beginning to trail off. It was probably weird that he spent so much time thinking about her. Doctor Kennedy Jones. He’d googled her after reading everything he could find by her online. What was so special about her writings that differentiated her from the others he would find at two a.m. after trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. Lost in his thoughts, her words registered only in the back of his mind. He stood static for a couple seconds before the slow trickle of students caught his attention. “Ah, yes, elsewhere. I can do elsewhere.” He headed towards the entrance.

“You said something about a courtyard?” He asked, falling into step beside her. Her steps were shorter but quick and efficient, and he found his own moving faster in order to keep up.

“Oh, yeah, I wrote that one recently after a case with an unsub who felt forced to kill in order to silence the voices. I feel the disorder has been deeply misconstrued, taking to mean psychopathic, but the majority of schizophrenics aren’t … You’ve read the paper and you already know this.” He reached his hand up, scratching the back of his neck, where his hair curled just at the base. He cleared his throat, looking down and then back up at the doctor – well, the other doctor. “I’m glad I was able to help in some way. You were able to put my phd to use before I did.”

Sunlight filtered through the trees that framed the door to the lecture hall as they left it. “So, this courtyard. Does it have coffee? If not, I know of a really good cafe a few blocks down. It’s a longer walk, taking 10.48 minutes to get there, but it’s a nice walk along the quad, and they have bagels. It’d give us more time to talk.”

Kennedy granted her irises the opportunity to observe the young doctor before her, the corners of her softened lips twitching upward in slight amusement. “You truly believe it’s possible, Dr. Reid? I truly mean no disrespect, though the necessary metals would have to be retrieved from the moon. If I say so myself, I do not believe that the U.S. Military would fund a space mission to mine for metal . . . for a fictional weapon. And, on top of that, the price is truly outrageous. The cost would come to . . .” She paused, scrunching her nose up. “About . . . $850 quadrillion. Due to the national debt that the United States has . . . impossible. And . . . stupid, if I say so myself.” Jones adjusted the frames of her glasses, a soft chuckle following her statement. “And . . . due to the diameter of the Death Star—which is roughly around 100 miles—the weapon would not be able to withstand the pressure of our atmosphere . . . and the weight of it . . . it would surely fall to Earth. Even if it was possible—which it isn’t—it would be destroyed within . . . hours, I would presume.” There she went on again . . . rambling. Truth be told, Kennedy never had the ability to necessarily converse with others that she had not gotten the chance to get to know, for her paranoia would cause her to remain silent. And yet, she could not help but to exchange dialogue with the doctor.

A crimson hue shaded onto her cheekbones. It seemed as though Spencer had done an abundance of research on her. Her nose crinkled, a delicate smile growing onto her features. “Not many people have read my publications,” Kennedy admitted. Jones clutched the pastel purple binder against her chest, displaying a slight presentation of embarrassment. She was never the one to discuss her work . . . she was never the one to speak so intensely on a subject many would deem unnecessary and stupid . . . she was never the one to put herself out there in the slightest. And yet here she was. “I appreciate you taking the time to read it, even if my theories were helping you fall asleep. Hopefully they weren’t too boring.” She laughed once more. Nice attempt at a joke, she thought to herself. You’re hilarious. Right? Right.

Elsewhere. Kennedy glimpsed upward at the male, nodding her head curtly. It was an astonishment to her that her speed of strides was an accelerated pace, for the heels she wore had begun to facilitate an aching sensation at the bottom of her feet. “I have. You said . . . um—only have a small percentage of chance to succumb to dangerous behavior. Many can function normally, actually, especially with the right treatment that consists of psychological evaluations, sessions with a therapist, and medications.” Jones paused, clearing her throat. “I actually did extensive research on schizophrenia and how other mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, and bipolar can negatively affect it. I-I’m sure you know all about that, but I’d be more than happy to pass on my notes . . . if you wanted to check it out.” She paused briefly, inhaling leisurely. “You helped a lot, Dr. Reid. I-I would stay up for hours trying to figure our treatments for clients . . . and then your dissertation came along. So . . . thank you.” Kennedy bit down onto her lower lip.

“Quite specific on the time duration,” the doctor commented after a moment. Jones glanced downward at her heels, shaking her head slightly, mentally scolding herself for her choice of wardrobe this afternoon. “You sold me at bagels, Dr. Reid.”

#[ * doctoragent ] #[ * doctoragent • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

fatecrossed:

                   derek’s dark gaze shifted away from the younger agent for a moment,  shifting his posture in the chair that he sat in and distancing himself from the brunette for a moment though his arms remained unfolded,  resting on the chair.  “don’t take it personally,  jones,”  the words come out as a slight afterthought,  face trained to remain neutral and control all the little micro expressions that beguile most people.  “it’s really nothing.”

“don’t profile me, agent morgan,” kennedy spoke, her tone of voice slightly harsher than intended. her posture stiffened as her gaze fell downward, her jaw clenching to a slight degree. jones adjusted the askew frames of her thick glasses as her fingers drummed a subtle cadence on top of her upper thigh. kennedy sighed. she perfected her posture against the back of the chair. inhale. exhale. “do you hate me or something, agent morgan?” that was quite blunt for her standards of social interaction. and yet, she kept going. “because every time i try to give a… damn about you, you always throw it in my face. quite frankly, i do find it to be quite discouraging. i know i’m new here. but the least you could do is give me a chance.” forwardness was never her specialty… a blush of embarrassment coated her cheeks, the urge to apologize surging through her veins. but she remained silent. // @fatecrossed​

#[ * fatecrossed ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ] #[ * fatecrossed • derek morgan &&. kennedy jones ]

[joneskennedy-blog]

prettyboygcnius:

He saw it coming before it even happened – red gore dripping from her nostrils from the hard impact of the glass against the bridge of her nose, and all the color suddenly drains from his face as his jaw drops to the floor a mixture of guilt and concern. “ O-o-oh my gosh, Kennedy – ” he lunges to the nearest desk, snatching three or few tissues with trembling hands and stumbling over his own two feet as he hands them to her; he half-wanted to clean her up himself, but he figured he did enough damage. Sneakers squeak against the wet floor; the remains of his hot coffee tracked all the way to the desk – Jeez, Spence, could you be any more destructive?

He places his hands on her shoulders and gives her a comforting rub, hazel eyes looking panicked into her own. “ I-I-I’m so sorry, a-are you hurt? I-I mean I know you’re hurt, you’re bleeding, I-I just mean – ” He’s rambling, head shaking frantically. “ I-I’m such an ass. ”

She fought the urge to whimper in discomfort, for she loathed observing another undergoing a sense of guilt on account of her distracted mentality. Her emerald eyes began to moisten, the woman hastily blinking in attempt to drive away the sudden showcase weakness. The injury did not necessarily hurt. It ached, yes, but pain was not something she would associate with the incident. Ergo, Kennedy deemed her body’s compel to spill unnecessary tears to be inappropriate

Her eyes followed Spencer’s movements, a surge of personal guilt residing in the pit of her stomach. The corners of her lips twisted downward into a meek frown, the woman accepting the tissues in a grateful gesture. Jones pinched her nose and bowed her head forward to a slight degree, though her eyes peeked upward at the lanky genius. “You’re not an… ass,” she concluded, her tone of voice somewhat nasally due to the pressure onto your nostrils. A delicate laugh bubbled through her chest, her head shaking somewhat. “Accidents happen, alright? I mean—technically, who knows if you even caused this epistaxis? The atmosphere is dry. It could have easily been that.” Kennedy offered him a gentle smile, nodding softly. “Okay?”

Jones’ gaze lowered. “Shoot,” she murmured, noting the crimson stain on her periwinkle, Peter Pan collared shirt. “The one day I do not have my go bag.” Kennedy peered upward, a frown embedding onto her features. “Spencer—I’m fine.” // @prettyboygcnius​

#[ * prettyboygcnius ] #[ * prettyboygcnius • spencer reid &&. kennedy jones ] #[ * to new beginnings | season seven. ]