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letarasstuff · 3 years

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Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Emily Prentiss x teen!reader #Penelope Garcia x teen!reader #Derek Morgan x teen!reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #reid!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert

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thedancingnerdmermaid · 2 years

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Identity Crisis Pt 4

SHOW/CHARACTERS: Criminal Minds characters; Hotch x swat!fm!reader; SWAT characters

WARNINGS:18+ MINORS DBI, language, angst, violence, identity theft, threats against a child, usual CM case stuff, death penalty, death, fluff, kissing

Notes: Reader is essentially Hondo’s character on SWAT except female. Hondo doesn’t exist in this because Derek Morgan is still with BAU in this one. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THESE CHARACTERS

Part One Part Two Part Three

By late morning you all had figured out the this man was Kyle Marks, brother of Harvey Marks, a serial killer that the BAU had previously caught. He was sentenced to death. The sentence was carried out 3 days before you met in the coffee shop. That was the trigger. Hotch was the expert witness. Kyle blamed Hotch directly and vowed to destroy him in anyway he could. Kyle didn't have a current known address.

Garcia gasped getting everyone's attention. “Sir, he posted a rant online about how he hates the BAU, specifically you, for the death of his brother. He said, and I quote, 'Aaron Hotchner will know what it feels like to lose what he loves.'” Everyone on the BAU team shared sad looks to Hotch.

“He must be talking about Jack. I already lost Hayley. Y/L/N said he knew specifics about Jack and his school.” Hotch stated clearly trying to control his anger of his son being targeted. He stood and started walking towards his office.

Following him you called after him, “Hotch! Wait.”

He turned towards you. Anger falling slightly.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't sure the things he had told me were true or made up. He said he was a widower. That the Boston Reaper killed his wife. Was... was that true?” you asked cautiously.

“Yes. Yes it is.” He said quietly. He told you everything that happened; including that Jack was there at the time.

“Oh my god, Aaron! I'm so sorry you both have been through that.” You said with honesty while pulling him into a hug.

Hotch tensed at first then melted into the embraced and hugged you back tightly; both of your fighting back the tears.

“Oh uh sorry about that.” You said sniffling and pulling away.

“Don't be. Thank you. I think I needed that.” He said with a sad smile.

“Hey,” you said softly placing your hand on his shoulder, “anytime. Seriously.”

Suddenly, Jack burst out of Hotch's office.

“Daddy!” He shouted happily.

“Hey buddy!” Aaron scooped up his son into his arms hugging him tightly.

“Daddy, you're squeezing me too tight.” Jack giggled.

“Sorry little buddy. I just love your hugs.” Aaron responded.

Jack looked over his dad's shoulder and eyed you.

“Daddy, who is that?” Jack asked.

“This is Sergeant Y/F/N Y/L/N with DC SWAT. Her team is helping me out.” Aaron introduced you two.

“Hi, Jack. You can call me Y/F/N.” You stuck your hand out. He didn't take it. Instead Jack eyed you carefully with his adorable face squinting.

“Spiderman or Superman?” He asked tilting his head.

“Spiderman. Hands down. Although I'm more of Captain America girl myself.” You responded. Jack then grabbed your hand shook it with a smile. Then turned to his dad.

“She's good. And she's really pretty! Right, daddy??” Jack asked innocently.

Hotch was clearly not expecting that and shifted slightly “yes, yes she is.” You hoped your cheeks weren't showing the blush you felt.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You said with a wink in Aaron's direction clearly acting more bold than you really felt.

“Jack, you and Aunt Jess get to hang out here today.” Aaron said kneeled down eye level with his son.

“No school?” asked Jack hopefully.

“No school. I need your help working this case. I need you to draw up plans to catch the bad guy.” Hotch said seriously. “Think you could do that for me, buddy?”

“Yes, daddy! Aunt Jess! Come on! I gotta work the case!” Jack all but yelled as he ran back to Hotch's office and pulled out paper and colored pencils.

“Pretty great kid you have there, Hotch.” you said.

“Thank you. He's everything to me.” Hotch said with a smile while watching his son through the office window.

“As well he should be. Let's go catch this asshole.” You turned and headed back to the conference room.

Hotch followed behind but not before being caught by Rossi while staring at your ass.

Rossi simply smiled and gave him a “go get her” look.

Everyone was working together on a plan for your second 'date.' You were about to ask Hotch if he checked his own financials to see if there were any miscellaneous charges he did not authorize when your phone rang.

“Y/L/N” You answered

“Boss, I think he made us. He shook us and now we don't have a tail on him.” Deacon said.

“Damnit! Alright head to us at the BAU.” You got off the phone and looked up to see everyone looking at you expectantly.

“That was Deacon, one of my men tailing Marks, he thinks Marks made them. He shook his tail.” You said with a deep sigh looking directly at Hotch.

“Garcia, can you track the number he's been using to contact Y/N?” Hotch asked.

“Sir, normally I'd be uber offended that you even had to ask but sadly, it's a disposable cell and currently turned off.” Garcia quipped.

“Where and when is the date for tonight?” Morgan asked.

“Bistro L'Hermitage in Woodbridge. At 6:30pm.” You answered and reminded you to check in with Hotch. “Wait. Hotch, have you checked you financials yet to make sure he's not using your identity and credit too?”

“Good point. Let me make some calls.” Hotch stepped away from everyone to check.

At this point is was just you, Garcia, Morgan, JJ, and Street in the room.

“Okay, badass hottie. Spill.” Garcia said while all four were looking at you.

“Huh? What are talking about?” you asked with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Come on, mama. You and boss man keep casting glances at each other.” said Morgan.

“You two literally look like the heart eye emoji.” Street said in agreement.

“WHAT? No we do not.” Your voice got a little higher. “I'm just trying to help him out since ya know, his identity was stolen by some dumbass criminal hell bent on revenge???”

“Oh come on,” JJ spoke up, “you too would be great! You both understand crazy work schedules. You're both attractive. Jack seems to like you too. Don't think we didn't notice the boss man noticing that.”

“That's not all he noticed!” Morgan snorted.

“What are you on about now?” you scoffed.

“Rossi and I both saw him checking out your ass earlier.” He laughed.

“I'm so glad I didn't miss this.” Street laughed.

“Miss what?” Hotch asked while walking back into the conference room looking at his phone. He looked up to see all of you looking at him with big eyes.

“N...nothing. So all good?” You asked desperately trying to change topics.

“Everything seems fine. So at least he's not out ruining my credit.” He said with a sad smile.

The rest of the day was spent planning. The restaurant was contacted to put in extra reservations for the team to be there undercover as back up.

“Alright, let's go over this one more time.” Commander Hicks orders.

“Y/N is meeting Marks for the date at 6:30pm. Starting at 6:15pm, our undercovers will make their way in for their tables as back up. Luca, Street and Tan will be at a table near Y/N and Marks. Deacon and Captain Cortez will be at another table. My team will be in the surveillance van outside since he knows us from the arrest. When Y/N gives the code word, we move in fast and smooth.” Hotch stated.

“Y/N, you good?” Street asked noticing you were zoned out.

“Uh yeah sorry.” You lied.

“Y/N, I know that look. What is it?” Street questioned.

“I'm not sure. I just have this weird feeling about tonight. I can't really place it. I just feel... like something is wrong” you gave a tight lipped smile. “Whatever, let's just get this over with. I'm going to go change for my date.”

In the locker room you were slipping into a navy blue dress that fell just above the knee and was very form fitting. There wasn't a curve that it wasn't accentuating. You slipped on your heels and situated your gun and badge into your clutch bag and exited the room.

“Hey, Y/N, I just wanted to see if you were okay a....” Hotch stopped mid sentence when he finally looked up and saw you. He couldn't even try to hide his eyes as they trailed down your body. He blushed hard when he realized he was caught and cleared his throat.

“Uhhm I... you look stunning. Beautiful. I... I mean... Sorry....” He stumbled over his words. It was clear that he's not used to being nervous.

“You're sorry for saying I looked nice?” You giggled

He flashed a big smile that showed his dimples and he blushed. You had to mentally remind yourself not to just kiss him.

“No. Ugh. I'm sorry. I don't exactly know what the rules are when a gorgeous woman is about to go on a date with a dangerous UNSUB pretending to be me?” He let out a small laugh.

“Me either. This is all so strange but thank you for the compliment. I...” you were cut off by your Commander coming around the corner clearly not realizing he was interrupting.

“Alright let's head out.” Hicks ordered.

You chanced another look at Hotch as you turned to follow your commander only to see that Hotch was already looking at you. You smiled and he winked. Holy shit he should not be allowed to do that! Get your shit together Y/N! You mentally chastised yourself.

**Part 5 coming soon

MASTERLIST

***Feedback always appreciated! Requests are open!

Tags by request: @eternal-silvertongued-prince @hotchnerxo @yoshigguk @bestillmystuckyheart @doctorwhofan24

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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I love you (and I don't want to) (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes

Summary: After three years in love with Spencer, (Y/N) decides it's time to move on. He will never love her anyway, right?

Category: Angst/Fluffy ending

Word count: 4,2K

Warnings: Cursing, but you love me anyway 💜

Masterlist

It had been three years of her life. Three whole years she had been in love with Spencer Reid. But (Y/N) couldn't deal with those feelings anymore. She didn't want to continue torturing herself, waiting for him. Why? 'cos for him, (Y/N) was just his friend, his very best friend. But nothing more. And she wanted more. She wanted everything with him, and after three years, she knew she wasn't going to get it.

(Y/N) had hinted to Spencer in every possible way that she was in love with him, but he hadn't acted on it. She actually felt pathetic. (Y/N) thought she couldn't be any more obvious about her feelings. The only thing she hadn't done was kissing Reid. And she wasn't going to because it was clear all she was going to get was rejection.

That's why, after three years postponing her own life, waiting around to see if Spencer might actually see her as a woman and not as a friend, she was done. She had to move on from him, even if it was the hardest thing she had ever done.

But working with Spencer didn't make it easier. There he was, every morning, smiling at her from his desk. Asking her how she had spent the night, what she had done. Even inviting her over to his apartment for a movie night. Which with Spencer actually meant watching movies and nothing else. Nothing. Not even holding hands.

In three years, the most physical (Y/N) had even been with Spencer had been the day she got shot in a leg, and he hugged her when she rejoined the team after her leave.

One hug in three years. That was it. Spencer was way more physical with Morgan, or with anyone else, as a matter of fact. That's why it was time to let him go. (Y/N) knew she wasn't going to find another man like him, though maybe that was the idea.

She loved him so much it hurt, and she needed to get rid of that pain.

(Y/N) knew she could get a man's attention if she wanted to. That's why it was so frustrating not being able to get Spencer's. Decided to get him out of his mind, (Y/N) dragged Emily and García for a "Lady's night." And by the end of the evening, she had given her number to three different guys. Neither of them was Spencer Reid, but at least (Y/N) felt her ego boost from getting their attention.

- "(Y/N)! I still can't get over how hot that guy was!! did he call you already?"- Penelope walked through the bullpen straight to (Y/N) 's desk, ignoring everybody but her friend. (Y/N) bit her lips and closed her eyes for a second, embarrassed her friend had literally yelled to the whole FBI they had met a cute guy the night before.

- "What? Who?"- Derek Morgan nearly jumped and rubbed his hands together, excited to hear the story, and walked with Garcia to (Y/N) 's desk.

Spencer raised his eyes from the file he was reading and scanned (Y/N) 's face. She was blushed, obviously nervous, and biting her lips as she smiled. What? Was she excited? Happy? Annoyed? and who was Garcia talking about? what guy? (Y/N) wasn't dating anyone. He would know. He knew everything she did. Not that he was a stalker or anything, but he listened each time she talked, and she usually told him everything she did.

Did she? Maybe not anymore. Spencer realized he needed to know what Garcia was talking about, so he pretended to be working but paid all of his attention to that conversation.

- "Thank you, Penelope"- (Y/N) huffed and shook her head- "I don't think Anderson heard you, by the way."

- "I heard her!"- Anderson raised his hand and waved- "Hot guy, she can't get over him"

- "Thank you!"- (Y/N) smiled at Anderson and covered her face with both hands.

- "Oh, come on! Don't be shy. You are not shy. And last night's (Y/N) wasn't shy either!"- Penelope tapped on (Y/N) 's back, as she grabbed the closest chair and moved it to her desk- "So, did he call?"

- "Who are you guys talking about?"- Morgan asked, crossing his arms on his chest, staring at the two women- "What did you do last night?"

- "Turns out this lady right here is the best party girl I've ever met, and in all these years, she had never shown this side of her! Ever!"- Penelope was clearly under the effect of three cups of coffee.

- "What did she do?"

- "Oh my beloved Morgan, you should have seen her!"- Garcia started explaining, and Spencer realized his stomach, as well as his fists, were tightening.

- "Please, don't!"- (Y/N) begged, but it was useless.

- "She was a lioness in the wild, and the hottest guys in the club were her prey. She danced with only the most attractive men in the whole place. And she flirted, and laughed, enchanted them all. Guys were asking for her phone number the whole time we were in that club. I swear I had never seen anything like it before."

- "What?! this pretty lady right here?"- Morgan pointed at (Y/N), who was still covering her face with both hands- "She always refuses to go out clubbing with me."

- "Well, clearly she was hiding her wild side"- Garcia sentenced and nodded at her own words- "So, did he call already?"

- "No. He hasn't"

- "Who?"- Prentiss asked, joining the conversation- "Bachelor number three? Please tell me you are gonna marry that man. It would be a crime not to."

The fact even Prentiss was drooling over that unknown guy hit Spencer harder. He knew (Y/N) was gorgeous and that she could get any guy's attention if she wanted to. But in the last three years, she had ignored every man who had flirted with her. Why the sudden change?

Spencer knew he couldn't ask (Y/N) not to flirt or go out with anyone, just 'cos he loved her in silence. Reid wished he could tell her how he felt, but he knew it was impossible for her to love him. She always took special care of him. She was always there when no one else was. But Spencer considered it as a gesture of friendship, not of love. He was so blind, he had wasted three years of happiness by her side, only because he was sure someone like her could never want someone like him.

Lucky for Spencer (or unlucky in a way), he didn't have to listen to that conversation for much longer. Hotch asked the team for the reports of the last three cases they had worked on, which meant they had a busy day ahead, and the bullpen was silent for most of the day.

Until (Y/N) 's phone hummed around noon, and Prentiss jumped from her desk.

- "Is it him?! is he?"- (Y/N) looked at Emily in shock- "What?"

- "You are acting like a schoolgirl. Put your shit together."

- "Shut up and let me live my life through you for a second! is that him?"- (Y/N) grabbed her phone and nodded. Spencer looked at her friend and held his breath. What was happening? Why was she clubbing and meeting guys all of a sudden?

- "I can't stop thinking about you. I hope you are having a great day. Wanna have dinner with me tonight?"- (Y/N) read out loud and bit her lips.

- "Please say yes and ask him for a picture."

- "Garcia already found pictures of him online"- (Y/N) announced Emily and showed her the mail she had gotten from their friend- "She checked his whole life. And he wasn't lying. The guy is a pediatrician, he is single, never been in jail, gives lots of money to charity...."

- "And he is so hot, Ryan Reynolds would be jealous of him. Seriously (Y/N), please date him. You deserve to be happy, and that guy is screaming, "I could make you happy."

Emily had never been the kind of woman to say those things out loud in the bullpen, during work, knowing anyone might hear her. But that was precisely what she wanted.

She knew Spencer was paying attention. And she wanted him to listen to what was going on because it might be the only way to make him see he had to tell (Y/N) what he really felt for her before it was too late.

Prentiss knew Spencer was in love with (Y/N), though he had denied it every time she had confronted him about his feelings. But you can't hide those things from profilers. Less from profilers who are also your best friends.

Emily knew (Y/N) loved him too, and it was nerve-wracking watching them waste their time and neither of them doing anything to be together.

Maybe the fact (Y/N) was getting someone else's attention would make Spencer react. If not, well, maybe (Y/N) would get a chance to be happy with the club's hot guy.

The hot guy from the bar had a name. It was Benjamin, and he took (Y/N) our for dinner that night. He had been lovely and charming, just like he had been when they met at the club. So sweet and charming, in fact, (Y/N) felt he might be the one who could take Spencer from her heart. That's why, when he asked her out again later that week, she accepted.

- "Oh my god!"- JJ walked to (Y/N) in shock- "Who sent you these?"- there was a gigantic bouquet of red roses on (Y/N) 's desk, and the owner was staring at them, absolutely blushed. In three years, no one had sent her flowers. It was impossible not to feel special.

- "Benjamin"- (Y/N) whispered and opened the card that came with the roses- "He asked me out, again."

- "You know, red roses are the most common flower to give to a woman."- Spencer had made his best to stay out of that conversation and every conversation related to Benjamin in the last week and a half. But he couldn't do it anymore.

He was done.

- "Worldwide, everybody gives red roses to say "I love you," turning a beautiful flower into a sad and empty cliché."- Spencer stood up from his desk and walked over (Y/N) and JJ, staring at the bouquet.

- "Sad and empty?"- (Y/N) stood up and crossed her arms on her chest, defensive- "Why would you say that?"

- "When everybody does it, the gesture might turn into something meaningless. A banality."

JJ looked at Spencer and at (Y/N). Since Benjamin was in the picture, it was clear their friendship was in trouble. Reid was more distant and (Y/N) was focused on her date. You didn't need to be a profiler to see what was going on, and JJ knew the wise thing to do was to take a step back and leave the two of them to fix their problems on their own.

Something JJ knew was never going to happen, 'cos Reid would be passive-aggressive and (Y/N) would get annoyed and leave.

- "Why are you so bitter today, Spencer? It's just flowers?"- (Y/N) asked him and raised an eyebrow. Reid mimicked her movement and crossed his arms on his chest as well.

- "I'm not bitter, (Y/N). I'm just telling you this gesture of love that's melting your heart is nothing but a cheap way to get under your skirt."

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ wide opened their eyes at Spencer's words. But (Y/N) didn't even flinch.

- "And since when do you care if someone is trying to get under my skirt?"- she asked, staring into Reid's eyes.

- "I don't."

- "Then why are you telling me this?"

- "I just thought you were smarter than this. I guess I was wrong."

You could feel the tension growing between them. And the sparks coming from (Y/N) 's eyes that were filled with anger.

Spencer regretted every word that had left his lips ever since he stood up, but he couldn't take them back. What was done was done. And so, he could feel (Y/N) 's friendship and love slipping through his fingers with every word he said.

Later that night, Spencer couldn't sleep. It wasn't late, but he hadn't had a proper rest for weeks. Since he first heard (Y/N) was out clubbing with her friends, actually. And now that she was dating someone else, there was no way Spencer could close his eyes.

He felt awful after what he had told her, and he kept trying to come up with an idea to apologize to her. In three years, they had never fought before. Well, he had never been so jealous of anyone getting her attention in the last three years.

He couldn't shake the thought of her being on a date with Ben at that very same minute. They were together. She was laughing. And that would be enough for that guy to fall in love with her. How couldn't he? (Y/N) was perfect. Spencer knew it.

Reid paced like a lion in his apartment. He sipped his third cup of herbal tea, trying to follow (Y/N) 's advice to reduce caffeine at night in a useless effort to sleep better. But he knew coffee wasn't the reason he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. It was (Y/N). (Y/N) and all the feelings he had for her.

Why couldn't he just tell her he loved her? Why did he have to hold those feelings back for so long? Was it too late to tell her? Of course, it was! and even if (Y/N) wasn't in love with Ben, that didn't mean she'd ever love Reid. They were friends, and that was it.

The hum of his cellphone took Spencer from his thoughts. Somehow reading "we've got a case" on the screen made him feel better. At least now he had something else to think about. Reid could focus on saving lives instead of his own misery.

The case could be solved. His personal life couldn't.

Work was where Spencer could hide. It was his escape from his own problems, from his head, and his tendency to overthink everything.

Work was his refugee, his temple. A place he could even call home.

And that's why he lost it when he saw (Y/N) holding some guy's hand in the hall outside the elevator, in the BAU.

- "What are you doing?"- Reid wasn't even subtle at that point. He ignored Penelope, Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ. Needless to say, he also ignored that random man he knew was Benjamin.

- "Hi Spencer"- (Y/N) cut him a short smile and tried to act normal, but she knew it wasn't going to happen.

- "We've got a case."

- "Hi! Nice to meet you. I'm Benjamin"- Ben tried to shake Reid's hand, but Spencer didn't just ignore him. The glance he gave him was so cold and annoyed, (Y/N) was embarrassed already.

- "Don't mean to be rude, but what the fuck are you doing here? Do you think you can come and visit the FBI whenever you want to?"

The whole team was silent. Spencer's words resonated through the empty halls. (Y/N) felt her heart stop and her cheeks turning red with embarrassment and anger.

- "I'm sorry,"- Ben whispered and cleared his throat- "I should go."

- "No, please."- (Y/N) held his hand tighter and turned to him, knowing Spencer was staring at every move she made.

- "You have to work. I just came to drop you off. Take care, ok?"- Ben said, smiling. (Y/N) nodded and slowly leaned in and kissed him.

Spencer's heart dropped. That was it. He couldn't deal with that anymore. Reid turned around and rushed out the hall.

What had he done? What had she done? That was it. He was screwed.

- "Spence?"- JJ found him hidden in the conference room, sitting at a chair, his head resting on the table, covered with both hands.

- "What?"- he whispered, but didn't move- "I know, I know"- he added before JJ would say anything- "I ruined it all."

- "Why don't you just tell her what you feel?"- she asked her and sat by his side. But Spencer still didn't move.

- "What for?"

- "For starters, to apologize for being a dick today."

- "It's useless, JJ."

- "Why?"- Reid sighed and turned slowly to look at his friend. JJ smiled at him kindly and shook her head- "It's not useless, Spence. She loves you."

- "She loves me as a friend."

- "No, she is in love with you. The only reason she is dating Ben is that she needs to get over you 'cos she is sure you don't love her."

Spencer looked at JJ in silence, trying to put those ideas together. But they made no sense.

- "There's no way (Y/N) loves me."

- "She does. She has been in love with you for the last three years, Spence. And if I were you, I'd apologize to her, and I'd tell her the truth."

- "She really loves me?"- Spencer whispered, and JJ nodded- "Why didn't you tell me before?"

- "I tried to tell you a million times before, you wouldn't believe me! now try to find a way to fix this before you lose her!"

Reid stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. JJ was right; he had to fix everything. He had to win (Y/N) 's love back.

But Hotch and the rest of the team walked into the conference room that minute, including (Y/N). And his plans were forced to be paused until that serial killer was caught.

That was a miserable case. Not only because the unsub was killing lonely older women, and no one noticed most of the victims because no one would visit them. Which made the trail of murders was nearly untraceable. But because Spencer and (Y/N) weren't even looking at each other during the whole time they were investigating, and to call it "awkward" was being subtle.

It was hell for both of them.

Being in the jet was torture, 'cos there was nowhere to hide from each other. When Hotch asked them to go to the last crime scene together was the worst. (Y/N) had to ask Emily to go instead 'cos she knew she couldn't deal with Spencer at that minute.

And all that time, all Reid could think about was that kiss. The image of (Y/N) kissing Ben in front of him, and the words JJ had said. That (Y/N) loved him, and that was the reason why she was doing all that.

Solving that case was more complex than he expected because he couldn't put his mind to it. All he could think of was (Y/N).

On the jet back to Quantico, Spencer sat in front of her, decided to talk to her. But she stood up and left in a second, not giving him the chance to open his mouth. JJ stared at him and cut him a short smile, trying to encourage him not to lose faith. Spencer knew (Y/N) was mad at him, and she would act her worst when she was upset. But this time, he knew he had fucked it up. There was no other way to explain it.

Saying "Sorry" wouldn't do it. Spencer would have to do better.

But how?

(Y/N) reached her house and closed the door behind her back, still making her best not to cry. She had held those tears back for two days now since she had fought with Spencer, and she refused to weep over him anymore. It was a waste of tears.

Spencer Reid was an asshole, that was all.

All there was left to do was to forget about him. Maybe (Y/N) could text Benjamin, tell him she was already back in town, though she really didn't want to. (Y/N) wanted that night for herself, ask for pizza, watch a movie, do nothing. Maybe take a long bath. She could deal with reality in the morning. But right now, she wanted that night for herself.

Of course, she wasn't going to get it. The knocking on her door ruined her plans before she could actually ask for her pizza.

Spencer Reid was holding his breath at the other side of the door and making his best effort not to faint. That's how nervous he was. (Y/N) looked at him in shock, and for a few seconds, she forgot how mad she was with him because the way he was looking at her was heart-melting.

- "I'm sorry,"- Spencer whispered and gave her a gigantic bunch of flowers- "(Y/N), I am so sorry I was an asshole with you."

- "I don't want your flowers."- she refused to take them and took a step back into her apartment. But Spencer followed her.

- "(Y/N), I..."

- "No, you hurt me. You insulted me. You humiliated me and..."

- "And I love you"- Spencer confessed- "I love you, and I have been an insensitive asshole with you. I know you won't forgive me, but I had to try."

(Y/N) stared at him in shock. She didn't move. She didn't even blink. Spencer stared at her in silence, closing the door behind his back. At least they were now inside her apartment, and she wasn't kicking him out. He thought that was a good sign.

- "What are you talking about, Spencer?"

- "I love you. I am in love with you (Y/N). I have been in love with you for the last three years, and I kept telling myself it was useless to feel this way for you 'cos you would ever even look at me that way. But now that you've got that guy, I've realized worse than losing you for telling you my feelings is losing you over some douchebag for not telling you how I feel."

Spencer was rambling too fast, and (Y/N) was not getting what was going on.

- "So you decided to come here and tell me how you feel so I would forgive you?"- (Y/N) asked him, still mad- "'Cos telling me you love me doesn't make me feel any better, Spencer. If anything, it's making me even madder at you! What the fuck is your problem?!"- (Y/N) turned around and walked to her living room, not really knowing what to do.

- "What?"- Spencer asked, confused, following her around.

- "I've been fucking in love with you for years! and you waited till now to tell me how you feel?"

- "I never thought you'd like me!"

- "I don't like you! I fucking love you, Spencer!"

- "I love you too (Y/N)!"

There was a deep silence in the room. (Y/N) and Spencer stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to do. They were in love. Literally, madly in love.

- "I love you, (Y/N)"- Spencer repeated and took a step closer to her.

- "I know, I heard you"- she whispered, confused. She was so upset and so happy at the same time. She had no idea what she was doing.

Reid didn't know what to do either, how to act, or how to fix things. The only thing he could think of doing was simple: to kiss her. Reid took another step closer to her, and she didn't move away. So he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight.

- "I love you, (Y/N)"- he repeated for the third time and kissed her with such passion, yet love, (Y/N) 's knees nearly betrayed her. Her head was spinning. Her body was shaking. She was in love, and the man of her dreams was finally kissing her.

Spencer was finally touching her, holding her, kissing her. After three years.

- "You said roses were sad and empty,"- (Y/N) whispered and looked at the bouquet Reid was still holding.

- "I said a lot of things I regret,"- he whispered and kissed her again. This time, less urgently and more sweetly, savoring her little by little- "And these are special flowers."

- "Care to explain?"- (Y/N) murmured and sighed. Spencer nodded and handed her the flowers again, smiling childishly.

- "Purple roses are not nearly as common as red or white roses are. And that's why they indicate a fascination and adoration."- of course, Spencer Reid had a real explanation for picking those flowers.

- "Purple roses are associated with royalty, and they were often given to queens. That's why it's the only flower I could give to you. You are my queen. You have always been, and I've been a stupid blind man not to see it before."

(Y/N) bit her lips and stared at him, not knowing what to say. Spencer sheepishly smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her. But she stopped him.

- "You were an asshole."

- "I know, I'm sorry"- he whispered, honestly sorry- "I'll live the rest of my life making sure you'll forgive me."

- "You won't get tired of me?"

- "Never"- he whispered and leaned over her- "I've been in love with you forever, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you."

- "Sounds like a lot of time, Spencer."

- "We've waited three years already (Y/N). I'm not wasting any more time."- Spencer Walter Reid held (Y/N) and kissed her. He knew he had wasted three years, but he was willing to do anything and everything he could to make it up for her. All he wanted now was to make her happy every day.

****

Taglist

@all-tings-diego @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #fluff #angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencie reid #babymetaldoll writes

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

��Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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uncpanda · 3 years

Text

Small Town Moose: Part 3

Prompt: When your best friend convinces you to move to DC with her, you’re more than a little lonely. You’re used to life in a small town, not a big city. For the first time in your life you’re mostly alone with your only company being your dog Moose. Then you meet a single dad and his son, and you realize maybe you’re not so alone?

AN: After watching the show, I noticed that Hotch is fairly open outside of work, he’s not as serious and he smiles more. This is taking place about two years after Haley’s death, Jack is six. Reader is around 25-28.

If you want to be notified when this story is updated you can subscribe to it on AO3. Thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, and liked the forst part. It really motivated me to write more!

Re-posting because it wasn’t appearing in the tags.

Part 2

“Are you seriously, still not talking to me?”

It had been nearly twelve hours since Gwen had finally come home, and in all that time she had barely said three words to you. “Are you still sleeping with my boss?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with Aaron.”

“Aaron? AARON? His name is Agent Hotchner. Hotch to those who have been on the team a while, and you’re calling him Aaron?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

She lets out a short shriek, “Do you have any idea what you, sleeping with my boss, could do to my career?”

“I’m not sleeping with him!”

“But you want to!”

Your eyes go wide, “How do you figure that?”

She points at you, “You were wearing your flirty sweater. You like to wear that sweater because it makes your boobs look nice. You’ve told me that a million times.” Your face goes red, but she continues on, “Plus you had that shy smile on. It’s the one you always use when you’re flirting. AND when you started pushing me into the apartment, you kept apologizing. You didn’t want him to think you were friends with a crazy person.”

You throw your hands into the air, “Did you ever consider that I did that for you? He could fire you and you pay half the rent. I don’t want to be homeless!”

“Liar. Your ring finger twitched.”

Okay, so maybe you had been lying. Maybe you thought Aaron was handsome. Maybe, just maybe you liked how he laughed. And maybe, you really liked how he looked at you when you had worn your flirty sweater.

You avoid eye contact and mumble, “I hate being friends with a profiler.”

“A-HA! Then why are you dating one.”

“WE AREN’T DATING!”

“But you want to be.”

You take a minute, and then you shrug. Gwen faceplants on the kitchen counter. When she looks up at you she says, “I have a headache.”

“Tylenol is in the medicine cabinet.”

She looks at you for a minute, and you visibly see her regain her composure. “Do you like him?”

“Honestly?” She nods, and you smile, “I’ve hung out with him twice Gwen. He made me laugh, I feel comfortable around him. I wouldn’t mind going to dinner.”

“He’s old.”

You can feel your eyes roll into the back of your head, “He’s older than me, but he’s not old.”

“He has a kid.”

You smile, “And I have you.”

She glares at you, “Too soon for jokes.”

She walks over to you, “You have to keep me out of it. You know that right? Unless you guys get engaged or he knocks you up, I can’t know any dirty details or any details at all. Fights have to stay between you guys, and . . . I have to work for the man.”

“You don’t know if anything is going to happen.”

“Oh yes I do. I caught him watching you walk away, and from what I hear he isn’t a love em’ and leave em’ kind of guy. Just be safe.”

You hug her, “I’ll do my best.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’ve got some work to catch up on.”

“All ready?”

“What part of hardass, do you not understand? What about you?”

“I’m going to take Moose to the toy store. He’s been a good boy.”

“Because that dog needs another toy.”

You watch her go to her room, before picking up Moose’s leash. Your dog, who had been lying on his bed, far away from the fray, comes eagerly. You make sure to close the door quietly behind you, and as soon as it has latched shut, your eyes go to his door. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

You knock three times before the door is gently opened, a smiling Aaron on the other side, “Moose and I are headed to the pet store. We were wondering if you and Jack wanted to come.”

He leans against the frame, “You were both wondering?”

You grin, “Moose wants Jack’s help picking out a new toy, and for his help I thought I’d treat him to ice cream.”

“Oh, so you’re going to deal with the sugar high then?”

You laugh, “We could always let them run it out in the park.”

“Sounds like fun.” He steps out of the way, and Moose immediately darts forward, and you drop the leash. A second later you can hear Jack giggling. They both come out a second later, and you’re slightly surprised when Jack runs to you and hugs your legs. Instinctively, you brush the boys hair back and smile at him.

You get a nod of approval from Aaron, and listen as he gives Jack instructions on how to get ready. The boy disappears with your dog a minute later.

His hand settles on the small of your back and leads you to the same couch from last night, “He’s been looking for more independence lately.”

“And it’s slowly killing you?” He quirks an eyebrow and you elaborate, “It’s something my mom used to say. Each time I took a step away from her I was killing her.”

“She’s not wrong. The funny thing is, I didn’t really care if I had kids. Haley really wanted them.”

“And now?”

“Now, I want another.” He laughs at that.

“How are you and agent Murphy?”

“We’re fine. We came to an agreement.”

“She wants you to keep us separate.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“It’s honestly, probably for the best.”

You’re saved from having to discuss it anymore, by Jack and Moose reappearing.

The little boy is excited, “Toy store.”

Aaron is quick to clarify, “Doggy toy store.”

That doesn’t seem to make him any less excited. When the three of you get outside the apartment, Jack begs you to hold the leash. While Moose rarely pulls, this is a new city, and you’re not quite sure of his triggers yet. Aaron saves you, by taking the leash himself, and having Jack hang onto it closer to Moose’s harness.

It’s only then that you realize, you no longer have a local pet store. It takes you a few minutes to find one that isn’t a big box chain. It also isn’t in walking distance, so Aaron offers to drive. Jack is quick to insist that Moose should sit right next to him, and when you and Aaron make eye contact you both laugh.

Jack is bouncing in his car seat when you get to the store. He reminds you of Moose as a puppy, and Aaron has to hold his hand to keep him from running ahead. What follows is possibly the longest amount of time you’ve ever spent in a pet store. Jack and Moose go down the aisle together. With each new toy they come to, Jack will pick it up, show it to Moose and declare to you that it isn’t the one.

“Does it usually take this long?”

You shake your head, “No, but usually I’m the one choosing.”

He laughs at that. The process takes half an hour before Jack and Moose decide on a rather large yellow duck. Moose carries it all the way to the register, where Aaron pays before you can. You shoot him a mock glare, and to your utter surprise he shoots you a wink. You can feel your face flame.

Aaron is quick to take you to his and Jack’s favorite ice cream parlor, where he once again pays. “It was supposed to be my treat. You cooked dinner last night.”

“I don’t mind. You made Jack’s day by coming over.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “You made mine too.”

Not quite sure how to respond, you stuff a bite of ice cream into your mouth, before he asks, “So what comes after the flirty sweater?”

You actually choke on your bite of ice cream. His hand pounds on your back, and when you can breathe again you take in a gulp of air. You sputter for a second before asking, “You heard us?”

“Thin walls, and you guys weren’t exactly quiet.”

“This amuses you?”

“A little bit. If it makes you feel better, that’s all I heard. I turned the TV on to drown out the rest. After that I only heard snippets when you guys yelled. Thanks for defending my age.”

You consider your next words carefully, “I’m going to have to move again. Somewhere you’ll never find me, because I don’t see a situation where I live this down.”

“I’m in the FBI, I’d find you. And you really don’t see a situation where you live this down?”

“Not . . .” before you can finish his lips are on yours. Your first thought is, that it’s true with age comes experience, because Aaron is a phenomenal kisser. Your second thought is, you’re kissing your best friend’s boss. She can NEVER find out about this.

When he pulls back, you admit, “I can see one situation where I live this down,” and then you kiss him again.

Any further kissing is put on hold, when Jack and Moose come barreling towards the two

of you at what has to be fifty miles an hour. They slam into the both of you, and you can feel Aaron reach out and pull you to him. He takes the brunt of the hit when you reach the ground with a giggling boy and a slobbering dog on top of you.

On the way back to the apartment building, Moose and Jack both conk out in the back, and Aaron makes a point of holding your hand. He holds your hand while he carries Jack up to the apartment, and when he leads you inside, and he continues to hold it while Jack and Moose nap together, and the two of you make out like teenagers on the couch. It’s nice, and sweet, and Gwen can never know about any of it.

It’s close to eleven when you finally pull away. You still have to work tomorrow, even if he’s on mandatory vacation. Of course when he keeps kissing you, especially that one place he’s discovered on your neck, it’s hard to say no.

So you make a deal, “A red dress.”

He’s confused for less than a minute, “The flirty sweater is followed by a red dress.”

“It’s a very nice dress, most girls go with a black dress, but I like red. Snd I’m more than happy to show it to you.”

“Dinner? Tomorrow night?”

You leave that night with a date, and Aaron’s phone number. When you get back, you know Gwen is waiting. Her eyes run over you, before she makes a fake gagging sound, and says “You’re going to have to wear a scarf tomorrow. It’s the middle of the summer, how are you going to manage that?”

You don’t say anything, you and Moose just head back to your room and fall into sleep. That night you dream of possibilities, and Moose dreams of having an entire family to play with, WHENEVER HE WANTS!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch reader insert #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #derek morgan #spencer reid #moose #jack hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert

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andreafmn · 3 years

Text

Running In Circles - Chapter 3

Word Count: 1,854

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 3/?

A/N: This is a short one. Just fully domestic fluff and it makes me very happy, but letting ya’ll know this happiness will be kinda short lived. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 3

“Okay, buddy, let’s see.” I looked at the instructions in my hands from the fort kit I had purchased. It seemed simple enough and something Jack would enjoy inmmensly. ��Let’s do this.”

“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed. Hotch laughed from the kitchen, insisting he had to at least cook some dinner. In the oven were the batch of brownies I had put in 10 minutes ago. It took about 30 minutes to finish the fort and the look on Jack’s face was priceless. Then he spent 10 minutes perusing my movie collection until he finally landed on Toy Story, once again.

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Hotch announced, bringing a tray with three plates of spaghetti to the fort.

“Daddy, daddy! Look at the fort!” Jack jumped up and down. It was a simple square base, big enough for three people and a triangle top. We covered it with thin sheets and hung wire twinkle lights on the top. Jack had run to my linen closet and gotten a thick comforter to lay on the floor, as well as most of the pillow that laid on my couch. He also arranged a couple of his plush toys in there to keep us company, as he put it.

“I see it, buddy. It looks great!” Hotch smiled brightly. “Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you, (Y/N)!”

“No problem, little man,” I smiled. “How about you invite your dad inside so we can eat some spaghetti?”

“Yes! Come on, dad!”

Hotch sat down next to me and passed a plate to Jack and me, putting a napkin on his son’s collar. The small kid smiled at his dad and dug into his plate without another thought, the sound of the movie filling in the background.

“You know,” I mused. “It was pretty bold of you to cook spaghetti for an Italian.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, I hope it’s good.”

I smiled and took a bite of the noodles. Hotch stared expectantly to see if he passed the Italian test. I chewed slowly, dragging the process along, until finally giving him a thumbs up. Hotch sighed and smiled before digging into his own plate.

After finishing the pasta, I took the three plates to the kitchen and served three plates of brownie with ice cream for me and the Hotchner duo. When those plates were empty, Jack laid his head on my lap and his feet on his dad’s and watched the movie. An hour and a half later, the blonde boy was softly snoring and peacefully sleeping.

“Looks like the little man ran out of juice,” I said as I ran my hand through his soft hair. “I think we should take him up to the guest room.”

Hotch softly placed his hand under Jack’s arms and carried him up the stairs to the first door on the right, careful not to wake the tired child. I pulled the sheets away and Hotch laid the kid on the bed. I left the room to let Hotch change Jack into his pajamas and went downstairs to clean up and pack away the fort for Jack to take home.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” I jumped at the sound of Hotch’s voice and he laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay, and don’t mention it.” I sat down next to him on the island. “Whatever you need, seriously, I’m here.”

He smiled and engulfed me in a hug; time slowed down. For a moment, just for a moment, it was only us. There was no hurting, no unspoken emotions, nothing. I breathed in his scent and took in the warmth coming from the closeness of his body to mine. He relaxed into me and let himself be human for a change.

All good things come to an end.

“Well, it’s getting late,” I said breaking the hug and clearing my throat. “Um, there’s towels in the guest bedroom closet and extra blankets just in case it gets too cold during the night.”

“Great, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night, (y/n).”

“Good night, Hotch.” I smiled and waited for his figure to disappear in the stairs before opening the doors leading to my backyard. I breathed in deeply and tried to easy my heartbeat.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” I whispered to myself.

I spent the night tossing and turning, trying my best to not think that the man I liked was sleeping just a hallway away. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking in through my bedroom window, announcing that I had wasted a whole night of sleep inside my head.

So, I got up and went downstairs to work on breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, the works. I put a pot of coffee to brew and took out some toppings for the pancakes. As I was finishing with the bacon, I heard tiny feet running down the staircase.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” Jack exclaimed, hugging my waist since it was as high as he could reach.

“Hey, little man,” I said ruffling his hair. “Wanna help me set the table?”

He nodded and grabbed the forks I was holding, placing them rapidly next to the three plates that were already on the round table.

“Jack, where’s dad?” I questioned.

“He’s still sleeping.” He shrugged.

“I have an idea, little man. How about we wake him up with some silly string?”

“What’s silly string?” My mouth dropped. I headed to the hallway closet and took out two cans of silly string.

“This, buddy, is silly string,” I presented the can. “You press the button here down and string comes out.”

“Like this?” Jack asked as a string of green plastic was expelled from the can. He shrieked gleefully and his excitement grew as he saw the grin on my face.

“Just like that, bud. Let’s go wake up dad.”

He nodded excitedly and we walked up the stairs quietly. Once we reached the door, I turned the doorknob slowly and instructed Jack to go jump on the bed to surprise his dad. He smiled at me and when the door was completely open, he ran up to the bed and jumped.

When Hotch’s eyes shot open, Jack and I pressed the cans and shot silly string all over Hotch.

“Good morning, daddy!” Jack screamed as he flung the can around. Definitely a mess I’d have to clean later but very worth it at the moment.

“Morning, Jack!” The older man said as he brought his kid down tickling him slightly. “Is it safe to assume this was your idea, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, sir. It is,” I responded between laughs. “We have a very strict protocol in this household when it comes to wake up calls.”

“That’s a very effective wake up call.” Hotch smiled.

“Well, now that we’re all up, we can eat some breakfast,” I said. “There’s some chocolate chip pancakes for you, little man.”

“Yes!” He excitedly left the room and ran downstairs.

“And there’s coffee, too.” I smiled and Hotch got up to join us downstairs.

“(Y/N), thank you.” Hotch said as he stood on the doorstep ready to go home. “This is exactly what Jack and I needed, and I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

“Hotch, there’s absolutely no need.” I laid a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze for reassurance. “I meant it when I said I’d always be here for you both. Whatever it is you need.”

Hotch smiled and left with an ‘I’ll see you at work’, and a Jack frantically waving from the backseat.

And that’s how our sleepovers started. Most of the times we had days off Hotch would come over and we’d build a fort with Jack and watch movies or played games. On hot days, we’d play around in the pool. Sometimes with the squad, but more often than not, just the three of us. If ever he needed it, I would take care of Jack so he could have a day to himself. These nights were happening so often, I transformed one of the guest rooms into a room for Jack. Hotch started leaving some of Jack’s clothes and toys. My house started becoming a second home for the Hotchner boys.

Slowly we grew closer and closer as friends, even if I wanted more. His friendship was too important for me to lose what we already had.

Back at work, it was business as usual. The team was none the wiser, but they could see that our relationship had gotten closer. JJ would always give me a smirk when she saw us hugging in his office, Derek would wiggle his eyebrows at me, and Penelope would silently squeal and flail her arms whenever she saw us in proximity.

Today was no different. Reid, Emily, Derek, and I were in the briefing room each stirring their wanted sugars and creams into the coffees I had brought in the morning. Reid quickly examining the box of donuts I had also brought along to pick the best one.

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled. “What’s going on between you and the boss man?”

“Well, Derek, if you must know,” I played along. The trio closed in as I pretended to look around for any eavesdropping ears. “Absolutely nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Emily responded annoyed. “There has to be something. Friends don’t look at each other the way you both do.”

“My dearest Emily, I’m serious. I’ve just tried to be there for him in these very difficult times.” I sipped my coffee. “And I very much enjoy Jack’s company.”

“You know,” Spencer chimed in. “Oxytocin and dopamine, which are often referred to as the love hormones, affect pupil size. The brain gets a surge of these chemicals when you’re sexually or romantically attracted to someone. This boost of hormones causes pupils to dilate. So, really, if we wanted to know if something was happening all we have to do is pay attention to their eyes.”

“Thank you, Spence.” I laughed. “Now I’m gonna have to use sunglasses everywhere.”

“So that means there is something to look out for!” Emily chirped.

“No,” I cleared my throat. “It means that I don’t want to be stared at all the time by profilers, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N), whatever you say.” Emily laughed.

After that, playful side eyes and nudges were implemented to our daily routine. They’d smirk whenever Hotch praised me and stared whenever he was even remotely close to me. At first it was funny, but it made me extremely nervous to think that Hotch could catch on. Although, it had been a couple of months with this behavior and thankfully, the unit chief had yet to figure it out, as oblivious to our teammates’ behavior as he was to my feelings for him.

Our friendship continued to flourish and strengthen as I pushed my feelings down in an effort to forget about them. It did not do me any good but, if this was the only way to keep him close, I would endure it.

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Tag: @ssamorganhotchner

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

You are in Love

Chapter 14 of In Breakable Heaven! This is the last chapter, although I might revisit this later on to write some little blurbs or something if you want!

Summary: Reader and Spencer finally talk about things.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: ~1600

Spencer’s POV

He stopped outside your door, ready to knock when he heard JJ ask “Why didn’t you tell us what happened? Or even that you were seeing anyone?”

You sighed, “I don’t know really. At first, it was because it was like a game between us. We actually had a bet going about which one of you guys would figure it out first. I was actually planning to tell you all at Rossi’s last family dinner, but then with everything that happened it just…”

“Y/N” Morgan started, “what can we do to help? Do you want me to kill him? The team can probably hide his body.” He felt himself tense up at the sound of Morgan threatening to kill him.

“No. The truth is I’d rather feel like this in a world with him than be happy in a world without him. It’s not his fault. I… I was supposed to meet him for dinner that night, but he had to cancel. That’s part of why he blames himself. Or at least I think so. I genuinely haven’t talked to him about it. ” His heart broke again with the same twinge of guilt at causing you so much pain. Without thinking too much about it, he knocked, greeted by Rossi as he opened the door to the dressing room.

Meeting your eye, he manages a weak “Hi Y/N.”

“Morgan said you had to talk to your Mom’s doctors, is she okay?” you responded, the concern clear on your face. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of amazement over how concerned you were even after he broke your heart. “Oh, uh yeah she’s fine. They just wanted to switch her medicine again. Thanks for asking.” You nodded in response, not knowing what else to say.

“I think, um, I think I’m just gonna go home now.” You said, staring at the floor to avoid everyone’s sympathetic looks. “I just want to go to bed and hope for the best, ya know?” You began pushing your way through people, your bag on your shoulder.

He grabbed your wrist, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and guilt over everything. He wanted to say how he felt. Tell you and everyone the truth. But, he felt you pull away and recognized the look in your eye that said not now, not here. You were gone before he could say anything else. Tears falling from his eyes, he turned back to his friends.

“Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, wondering what the hell was going on. He sighed, sliding down the wall before hitting the ground. Tears were still running down his cheeks when he decided what he had to do. “No. I am an asshat.” He admitted. Everyone turned to him, surprised at his use of language. “I’m the asshat.”

Every member of the team turned to him with varying degrees of shock and disappointment worn on their faces.

“What did you do?” Morgan prodded him for more information. And he gave it. All of it. He started at the beginning, when he walked you home from your apartment the day he met you until that day in your apartment when he walked out of your life to keep you safe.

“Oh my god.” Penelope wanted to smack him and she wasn’t a violent person. “How could you do that to her?” She shrieked.

“I know. I messed everything up because for some stupid reason I didn’t think she would love me after everything. I thought she would want to forget me so she could forget everything that happened to her. I thought I was just a reminder of the bad when she deserved so much more. How do I fix it?” They all looked at him expectantly, as if he already knew the answer.

“She clearly loves you. Just go tell her the truth and hope that the two of you will work this out.” Hotch was the first to speak up after he started back at them in confusion.

“You’re right. I have to go.” Spencer stood abruptly, grabbing his bag and running to leave the room.

He was still able to hear Hotch mutter “How did the two of them fool all of you for so long?” Rossi followed up with “It was so obvious when they did that little trivia competition.” as he ran out the door.

Y/N POV

You were kind of expecting Spencer to show up after looking into his eyes backstage. He seemed so desperate, but it scared you. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be friends or if he wanted you to move on.

When you arrived home, you didn’t even bother with the lights. You collapsed face down onto the couch to wait.

You aren’t sure how long you were laying like that before you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole to confirm your suspicions, you opened the door, backing up and gesturing for him to come inside.

Without uttering a word, you returned to your position on the couch.

“Y/N… I don’t know what I could say to make up for what I put you through, but I’ll start with this. I am so sorry. I was an idiot. No, I am an idiot. I was so scared of you not wanting to look at me anymore, of you blaming me for what happened like I blame myself, that I ran. I pushed you away and thought you’d be better off for it. I never wanted to hurt you like this. And then I completely shut you out for almost a month. You didn’t deserve any of that.” He paused trying to calm his racing heart so he could continue. “You deserve everything good in the world. So much more than I could ever give you, but I will gladly spend the rest of my life trying.”

You didn’t move from your spot on the couch during his impassioned speech. You didn’t need to. Listening to the regret in his voice was enough to bring you to tears. Just minutes ago you were so sure he was going to say something about just being friends or trying to get you to move on, so this was a surprise to say the least.

Spencer noticed the slight sobs that overtook your body as you buried your face further into the couch. His voice broke even further at seeing you so upset. “I’ll, um, I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Hearing him move towards the door was enough to force you out of the couch. “No!” Your voice came out louder than either of you expected. Spencer was quick to turn around at the sound of your voice, his face falling even more at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks.

The sight of him brings tears to your eyes again, but you do your best to prevent them from falling. You stutter out a shaky “I don’t want you to leave” before walking over to him and pulling him into a soft hug. “For a certified genius, you are pretty stupid.”

You can feel him nod his head against you as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I promise, I’ll never do anything this stupid ever again.”

“Good, cause then I might have to let Morgan hit you.” Spencer visibly shuddered at the idea, causing both of you to chuckle. Slowly, the two of you made your way through your apartment to the bed, laying down and cuddling as close as possible to each other. Just before falling asleep, you realized you hadn’t told him how you felt to his face.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Three days later, you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU were all at Rossi’s for a “family” dinner. Immediately upon entry, Penelope pulled you into the living room so she could attack you with questions about you and Spencer. You answered every rapid fire question as best as you could before Rossi called everyone over to sit and eat.

Before long, you couldn’t help but ask “I know Rossi and Hotch figured it out, but did the rest of you really have no idea that we were dating?” You glanced at the profilers around the table.

Penelope chimed in first. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I knew there was something there, but when we found out Spencer had a secret girlfriend I put the idea on the backburner since I didn’t think my best friend would keep that from me.” She said the whole thing while glaring at you, well as close to a glare as Penelope could manage for someone she loves.

“I would like to agree with that sentiment.” JJ stated with a much more convincing glare directed at Spencer.

“But, seriously. The trivia game? You all know how obsessed with Taylor Swift I am. Plus,” you turned to Derek and Emily, “the three of us have made so many Parks and Rec references. Where else could Spencer possibly pick up all that knowledge?”

Derek and Emily looked slightly offended at being called out. Quick to defend himself, Derek piped up. “Well, we figured out he was seeing someone!”

“Yeah, we just didn’t put it together that it was you...” Emily finished the thought.

“I’m glad you all know now though. No more secret phone calls or sneaking around.” Spencer looked at you and his face was the perfect depiction of the heart eyes emoji. You quickly pecked his cheek before turning back to the rest of the team.

“Just one more question, how have none of you noticed the ring yet?” You held up your left hand, wiggling your fingers. You and Spencer laughed at the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. The chock quickly wore off into congratulations and hugs as you thought about how lucky you are to have found such a loving family.

tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @akuri-shinsou @prongsyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sherlockmarvelharrypotter @lizziebritish @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Where do you go?

(A/N): This is requested by an anon and based on this post.

Summary: How does Hotch’s daughter, who everyone goes to with their own problems, cope with her mother’s death two years later?

Warnings: Angst. Grief. Dealing with a loved one’s death

Wordcount: 2.2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Hey (Y/N), I really need your help with Tim. Do you have a minute for me?” (Y/N) turns around to see a boy from her science class. It’s not like she knows him that much, they occasionally team up for small projects, there is nothing more behind that.

“Uh of course. I just had my last class, so I got time for you.” She smiles and lets him, Vincent is his name she thinks, rant to her about how his boyfriend doesn’t understand his needs.

This is nothing out of the ordinary for her, to be asked for advice. She simply is a good listener and gives good tips, the best even according to people close to the teenager. The problem is her limited knowledge on relationships. “Coaches don’t play”, Hotch tells her. And he intends on keeping it that way.

“That does really suck. Did you try to talk to him about it?” (Y/N) asks the boy in front of her. Suddenly he bursts into tears, describing how he only sees breaking up as a solution. She awkwardly pats his back and says encouraging words to him. That he will make the right decision, that he shouldn’t rush it and that he has to take his time.

After Vincent, or is it Gordon, calms down he looks up at the girl. “Thank you for listening. You were a great help, (Y/N).” He hugs her and leaves.

As she looks over the parking lot she spots her father’s car. Excitedly (Y/N) walks over and gets onto the passenger seat. “Hey, I didn’t know you pick me up today”, she greets him.

“We finished the case early and I was on the way home and thought giving you a lift wouldn’t hurt. Who was that boy? Is there something I should know?” Hotch looks at her from the side. But his daughter shakes her head. “Don’t worry, he is gay. He just needed a shoulder to cry on about his ruined relationship.”

“You do know you are not the school’s therapist, don’t you? At this point your classmates should pay you.” He tries to joke about it, but as a father he is worried. Since Haley died, (Y/N) took it upon her to make sure everybody is happy, no matter at what costs.

“I know, Dad. I’m fine and Alex feels better.”

A few days later (Y/N) sits in JJ’s living room, watching the mother go from one place to the next. “Food is in the fridge, so help yourself. Henry’s bedtime is in half an hour, please make sure he goes to sleep by then. He should be easy to put down, Will made sure to tire him out earlier. All important numbers are on the fridge. Feel free to watch anything on the TV.”

The teenager volunteered to babysit Henry, giving his parents a child free evening. “Thank you, JJ. We will rock this, don’t we?” She looks down to the boy on her lap, who nods his head.

“Good. Behave for (Y/N), ok?” The mother gives her son a kiss on the head. After Will’s goodbye the couple is gone.

“Ok, how about we get real comfy on your bed and I read you a story?” Henry nods again. He takes (Y/N) by her hand to his room. As suggested they lay down on his bed.

“Which one do you want me to read to you?” But the boy looks unsure all of a sudden. “Can we just talk?” Surprised the teenager nods. “Whatever you like, champ.”

“Uh okay, do you know Mommy is a bit… much? She is like there and the next second she is here and then she isn’t here for days. I- this is sooo annoying”, Henry rants to her. He is only three, so it is kept rather simple.

“Oh man, she must be a handful, champ. But you have to keep in mind that she really loves you and in the end this is the only thing that matters. Do you love her, too?” It hurts her to talk about a mother’s love, since her own passed away over two years ago. (Y/N) still misses her. She is sure it will never go away.

“Of course I love her.” Sleepily Henry cuddles closer to (Y/N), holding his plush toy near him. After that, he falls asleep safe and sound. The teenager waits for a bit, watching him scrunching up his nose every few minutes.

The next day at the BAU a knock is heard on the Unit Chief’s door. “Come in!”

“Hey Dad, I thought a little visit wont hurt”, the daughter enters the room. Automatically a smile appears on Hotch’s face. “Also, I thought a little help from Spencer wont hurt, too”, she adds with a laugh. “Last time I checked he was in Garcia’s lair. You might have a shot finding him there”, he tips her off.

“Thank you Dad, you are the best!” Not long after this she steps into the Technical Analyst’s office and is immediately greeted by the preppy woman being anything but preppy.

“What in heaven’s name do they think I am, do you know it (Y/N)? They want me to work faster and more efficiently and expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows while looking at the most gruesome pictures ever taken on a daily basis! Un-be-lie-va-ble!” The blonde walks back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

The teenager takes her hands in an attempt to calm her down. “Sit down and tell me from the beginning what you are talking about.” This ends in Penelope raging about some superiors for an hour. When she finally calms down, it is like she wakes up. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to load all that up on you. You don’t need that in addition to-” She suddenly cuts herself off.

“I’m fine, really. It’ll be like any other day.” The smile the girl struggles to put on looks pained. “My sweet sweet summer child, the second anniversary of your mother’s death is not like any other day. You are still allowed to grief, you know that, right?” Penelope hugs (Y/N), cradling her close to her chest.

“I know, Penny. Thank you for reminding me. But I have to go, I need Spencer’s help with my chemistry assignment. You know, gotta keep those grades up.” With that she makes a beeline for the bullpen, leaving a stunned Technical Analyst by herself.

Since Foyet Hotch worries about his daughter. He learned many things about her coping mechanisms in the last two years: She tries to do it on her own.

In times like this the similarity between him and (Y/N) frustrates him. Aaron also tends to deal with his emotions alone, in the safe space of his own four walls. With all of his qualifications he knows it’s not healthy and he slowly learns to let his feelings loose around people he trusts, typically his team.

The difference between (Y/N) and Hotch is that he knows when he reaches his breaking point and she doesn’t about hers. So in a situation like right now being a profiler comes in handy with the job as a father.

It’s the day. The second anniversary of a mother’s death.

Hotch already planned the whole day for his two kids. At first he wakes both of them up, a luxus he seldom is able to indulge. But for today he has called into work saying he won't be coming any time before ten.

The mood around the house is suffocating. Even the little boy notices the heaviness of the day and its meaning.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)? I’m gonna drop you and Jack off at school!” Aaron shouts standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m coming!” The answer is heard faintly.

Not long after this the Hotchner Household is on their way to the youngest’s elementary school. “Behave and remember: If you don’t feel fine it’s okay. Just tell your teachers and they will call me and I will get you, do you understand?” The father looks at his son with a certain seriousness. “Understood”, the blonde boy confirms and gives him a hug.

When he is back onto the driver’s seat, (Y/N) speaks up. “I don’t feel good about letting him to school today. What if he suddenly gets overwhelmed? I don’t think his teachers are able to calm him down.” Hotch gives his daughter a glance from the side. Jack never showed any signs of what she just described.

“They know to call me. I also told him it's all right to let them call me. He is in good hands.” It’s quiet for the next few minutes. “Dad, this is not the way to school”, the teenager tries to alert her father.

“I know. You won’t go today. I called you in sick when you were in the bathroom. I got the day planned, be ready to be surprised.”

The first thing they do is having breakfast in a little niché café. They once visited it regularly with Haley, way long before Jack was born. The two of them sit down at a booth in the corner.

“What can I get you two sweeties?” A waitress asks, her notebook ready in her hands. While the father orders their usuals, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander. So many memories at once crash onto her.

“Do you remember this one waiter, who always got you a hot cup of chocolate for free?” Aaron says after noticing her sad look. The girl begins to smile through the tears forming in her eyes. “Of course. Mom always got nearly a heart attack seeing me down it like it’s juice. I-” Her voice breaks. The tears fall down and make their way over her cheeks.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here. For anything you want or need me. Because nobody expects you to be alright, especially on this day.” He takes her hand and looks her in the eyes. (Y/N) nods, leaning against her father’s shoulder. He puts an arm on her, keeping her closer.

“I know. It’s just- It still hurts. So so badly. I feel like she still is here, but that’s just not true and that hurts me more.” Silently Hotch motions the waitress to make the order to go, while rubbing his child’s arm. Because that’s what she still is, a child.

A child that went through much, especially for her age. When (Y/N) calms down a little, they make their way back to the car.

“I thought we are going to the BAU to distract you for a while. But I can call the team and tell them we are going to do a SPA day at home or something. What do you want?”

“Can we go to them? And maybe leave earlier to do face masks at home before picking Jack up?” There is no way the father can say no to her puppy dog eyes. “Of course, Honey. Anything you want.”

As soon as the doors of the elevator open to floor six of the FBI building in Quantico, Penelope Garcia embraces (Y/N) in a big bear hug. “My sweet sweet summer child. You are so strong, I admire you. We are so happy to have you here” she whispers into the teenager's ear. “Thank you, Penny. Thank you so much.”

Over the course of the next few hours (Y/N) visits everyone’s desk. At first she goes into the lair, where mountains of cookies wait for her. Then she sits at Spencer’s desk, listening to cute facts about sloths. But Emily is quick to steal her from the genius, bribing the girl with new pictures of Sergio. Derek takes the teen from there, pushing her through the office on a desk chair with wheels. Her father is able to hear her laughs in his office, which puts a small smile on his face.

After that (Y/N) goes to JJ, who has a drawn picture from Henry for her. “Will had to write ‘best babysitter ever’ for him”, the blonde explains, pointing at the picture. The girl smiles. “Woah, I think you got a little Picasso at home. Tell him I love it.”

Her last stop is Rossi’s office. The older man looks at her with a fond smile. “Do you know that I see so much of your father and mother in you?” Confused, she glances at him.

“You are as stoic as Aaron. You are determined. But you are also caring and loving, like Haley. You are a perfect combination of both of them. Just keep that in your mind.”

As mysterious as this seems, it somehow makes (Y/N) happy. Happy to know a part of her mother is always with her.

Soon the little family departes for their home. Not long after they bid their goodbyes, Penelope receives a picture of the Unit Chief and the teenager with pink glitter masks. The father is willing to do anything to make her smile, even when this means he gets a basket of various masks the next day for teasingly reasons.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x daughter!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #bau x reader #bau x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #x reader #reader insert

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

you look happier

unrequited hotchniss & unrequited moreid all in one big sad package. for, of course, @eprcntiss <3

ao3

She knew Spencer would be at her door as soon she got the invite.

Derek was getting married.

As soon as she saw it, her mind began coming up with excuses as to why she couldn’t make it, maybe she could say there was a big case, or she just could not get out of work, that she was sorry, she’ll send a gift.

She knows there’s no point. Derek knows her well enough to know the true reason she won’t -can’t- attend his wedding.

Aaron.

The one that got away, that is if you can even lose someone you never had.

She refuses to say she moved because of him, but, she’s mature enough to accept that he was a factor in her decision. That watching him move on and fall in love with someone else was too much for her, especially on top of everything else. On top of loosing her sense of self, her feelings of home and family. Loosing her ability to settle back into her own life, back into Emily... Loosing him to was just too much for her, moving was her only option.

She thinks she regrets it sometimes, when JJ and Penelope have a girls night and they send her pictures, when Morgan calls her to update her on the gossip, which, if she ever told anyone he knew about, he would deny even on his death bed. But when Reid sends her a picture of a book he’s reading that he knows she’ll love, or when he calls her, sad and heartbroken over Morgan not feeling the same, hurt that the man he loves will never love him back, that’s when she thinks she regrets it the most, because he was there for her when Aaron moved on with Beth. He sat with her in her apartment, trying to cheer her up, he lay with her in bed, letting her cry silently while they both stared at the ceiling, his hand latched in hers, he’d bring over a film and some ice cream in an attempt to cheer her up, to take her mind of it. He’d wiped her tears at JJ’s wedding when he’d found her in the bathroom, whispering to her that she has him, she’ll always have him, and they can do this together. He’d taken her home after she’d danced with him, sat with her and understood, when she told him she had to leave. He hugged her at the airport while holding back his own tears and as she made him promise he wouldn’t make the same mistake she did, he’d laughed sadly and promised her he wouldn’t.

She knows she regrets it six months after she leaves, when Spencer calls her.

“Hello?” She answers, closing her front door.

“Hi,” Spencer says quickly and she frowns, dropping her bags on the floor and kicking off her shoes.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” She asks, her tone laced with worry.

“I erm,” He whispers, before clearing his throat. “I did what I promised you I would...” He tells her, his tone low and barley above a whisper.

Her heart hammers in her chest as she holds her breath, “And?”

“He doesn’t feel the same,” He whispers sadly and her heart shatters once more.

“Spence..” She says, “I’m so sorry.” She tells him softly, tears threatening to run down her cheeks, and when a sob racks from his body, raw and broken, her tears fall. She knows she regrets it when his cries are all she can hear and it’s over the phone she has to tell him to breathe, that it will be okay, because god, she would do anything to just hug him right now.

So when the invitation for Dereks wedding is in her hand, she expects Spencer at her door at any moment.

The moment happens exactly three days later, it’s a small knock, one she wouldn’t have even heard it she wasn’t stood close to the door. Opening it, she smiles sadly when she finds Spencer stood there, tears running down his face, a hand wiping them quickly.

“Morgan is getting married.” He whispers to her in a tone that shatters her already torn heart into the ground and she just grabs him, pushing him into her apartment, closing her door and just holding him. Her hands around the back of his neck as he buries his face into her shoulder and just cries, and she cries with him, because she knows exactly how he feels, and that kills her.

“Shh,” She comforts, running a hand through his hair, “It’s going to be okay.” She whispers, “Just breathe.”

He calms down after a few moments, slowly pulling himself from her arms and just stands in front of her. She wipes his tears, offering him the best smile she can and squeezes his hand.

“Come on,” She smiles, “I have ice cream and I have rubbish films.”

He laughs at that, following her into the kitchen. He grabs two spoons while she grabs the ice cream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks softly, the shake of his head is sad as he looks to the ground.

“There isn’t much too say.” He whispers, his voice laced with so much pain she’s surprised it didn’t knock her physically sick.

“Okay.” She accepts with a smile and he follows her into the living room, taking a seat next to her while she looks at him. She takes his hand when the sadness on his face pulls at her heart strings and he squeezes it, looking back at her.

“Does it get easier?” He asks her after a few moments and she sighs.

“Eventually.” She tells him with a sad smile, he nods, taking a deep breath before looking back at the TV.

She hopes he doesn’t ask her to come to the wedding, because she’s never been able to say no to him, and she doubts it will start now.

Unfortunately for her, he does ask her, when they’re both lay, staring at the ceiling of her new apartment, tears falling down his face this time, while she takes his hand, hoping to comfort him. She feels him to turn face her and she closes her eyes with a sigh.

“Will you come to the wedding?” He asks gently, and she looks at him, opening her eyes.

“Spencer..” She sighs, because she can’t. She can’t put herself through seeing Hotch and Beth, and Jack... god. She can’t.

“Please?” He whispers, “I’ll feel a lot better if you’re there with me.” He says, “I can’t do this without you.” He tells her quietly, and the crack in his voice breaks her.

“Okay.” She nods with a small smile, “Just for you.” She teases, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll get each other through this.” He says, and Emily nods.

“We’ll get each other through this.” She repeats to him, and she waits for him to fall asleep before she pulls the covers over his body, running a hand through his hair, before she leaves the room.

Spencer picks her up from the airport two weeks later, wrapping her in his arms as he gets to her.

“Thank you for coming.” He whispers and she chuckles.

“Have I ever said no to you?” She jokes as he lets her go, taking her bag as they walk through the airport.

He smiles as she teases him and she laughs.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” He asks as they drive to the hotel, both of their nerves for similar reasons.

“It’s going to be okay.” She reassures him, watching as he swallows and exhales.

“You don’t have to go...” She tells him, “Morgan would understand.”

“I have to,” He says, shaking his head, “I just...I have to.”

“It won’t make you feel any better,” She tells him honestly and he looks at her. “You think it will, seeing them together, but it won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know being here is going to be hard for you.”

“Ill be fine,” she smiles, grabbing his hand, “I have you right?” She teases, a smirk on her face and he laughs.

“Always.”

Penelope is the first person to run to her as she walks into the hotel lobby.

“I have missed you so much.” She says as she holds her returned friend tightly.

“I’ve missed you too.” Emily laughs happily.

“My turn.” JJ jokes as she jabs Penelope, who backs off with a playful apology.

“It’s good to see you,” JJ says as she hugs her friend, “We didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss out on watching Mr commitment phobe tie the knot? Never.” Emily laughs, “And who can say no to Reid, seriously?”

“Someone can,” He mutters from just behind her and as she parts from JJ she turns to face him.

“Spencer...” She says, piercing her lips together and he shrugs.

“What?” He mumbles, not looking up from the floor.

“Petty isn’t a good look on you.” She says, nudging him so he’ll look at her. “Smile, be nice and just...don’t leave me on my own.” She jokes and he smiles, dropping his head as he kicks the floor.

When his voice hits her ears she freezes. She doesn’t miss the way Spencer’s eyes snap to her, grabbing her hand almost instantly and she looks at him.

“Deep breath, smile.” He says softly and so she inhales, slowly exhaling while she closes her eyes.

“God I hate my life,” She mutters and Spencer laughs as she smirks.

She turns to face him then, the sight of his hand latched in Beths while she talks to Jack as he stands next to her is enough to make her wish the floor would just collapse underneath her.

“Emily, hi.” He says as he spots her and she smiles. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wasn’t,” She says in the best fake nice tone she has, “Change of plans.”

“I see.” He nods, “It’s good to see you, we should catch up later.” He offers with a smile.

“Sure.” She smiles back, her hands squeezing Spencer’s so hard she hears him yelp at her side and she drops it, hanging her head to the floor as Hotch’s attention goes back to Beth and she curses under her breath.

“I need a drink,” she says, “Maybe several.”

“I think you broke my hand.” Spencer complains, unclenching it with a hiss as he holds it in front of him.

“Well if it isn’t my princess.” A happy voice says behind her and she turns, smiling as he walks towards her, she laughs as his holds out his arms, expecting her to run into them, he gets closer and before she can say anything, she’s wrapped around him and in the air.

“God i’ve missed you.” He says as she laughs, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. Her feet hit the floor gently as he cups her face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She says, placing her hands over his and he smiles. He looks behind her, watching with sad eyes as Spencer walks away, eyes on the floor as he’s grabbed by Henry.

“Did he tell you?” He asks, her smile falls slightly as she nods.

“It’s not your fault,” she tells him, “Give him some time, you’ll get your friend back.”

“Did Hotch ever get you back?” He asks sadly and she sighs.

“That’s different.” She tells him and he shakes his head.

“No,” His voice sad, “It’s not.”

“You can’t help how you don’t feel just as much as he can’t help how he does, you know that.”

“I know,” Morgan sighs, pulling her into his arms once again. “I wish he’d never said anything.” He whispers, “Is that selfish?”

“I think we’re all allowed to be a little selfish when it comes to thinks like this.” She offers him and he takes it, kissing the side of her head.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers, “Now, tell me about Savannah..” She teases, and Morgan laughs.

She finds Spencer later that day in the lobby, the whole team dressed to the nines as they wait for transport to the wedding. She comes up behind him, gently placing a hand in his back as she comes to his side, he turns to face her with a sad smile.

“Sorry about before.” She whispers, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” He tells her, “He’s your friend, it’s his wedding day..”

“Still, I could have chosen a better moment.”

“Emily,” He says, “It’s fine. You’re here now.”

She takes his hand and squeezes it, hearing the team head their way.

“Is everyone ready?” JJ asks as she looks around, “Okay. Let’s go.”

The wedding is beautiful, but all Emily will remember is how her eyes failed to ever leave Aarons’s back, how Spencer held her hand the entire time, holding back tears as Morgan said his vows, how Jack turned to face her at one point and waved, a huge smile on his face, waving back was hard, looking at the not so little boy she always thought she’d help raise.

“I hate weddings,” She whispers to Spencer as the room erupts in cheers for the newly married couple.

“Me too.” Spencer replies, faking a smile as the couple walk back down the aisle.

The reception isn’t any better.

Spencer watches as Morgan and Savannah dance.

Emily watches as Aaron and Beth dance.

Both wish they were absolutely anywhere else.

Spencer leaves her alone for five minutes, and that’s all it takes.

“Hey.” Aaron says as he comes to the side of her, she turns with a forced smile.

“Hey.” She replies, before sipping the last of her champagne.

“I haven’t seen you much tonight, I thought you’d be dancing with JJ and Garcia.” He says, as though they’re just old friends, and she feels the familiar ache in her heart when she reminds herself that to him, that’s all they are.

“I’m not really in the dancing mood,” She says, “Jet lag.”

“Ah,” He accepts, sipping on his whiskey, eyeing her over his glass, “Are you sure that’s all it is? Jet lag?” He questions, staring right at her and her mouth goes dry as he meets her eyes.

“I’m fine.” She lies, looking away from him quickly, knowing he was always the only one to ever catch her in a lie.

“Emily-“ He whispers gently, placing his hand over hers but she yanks it away quickly, shaking her head.

“Please don’t do this.” She whispers, her voice on the verge of breaking.

“I miss you.” He whispers to her and she closes her eyes, inhaling a breath as she swallows the lump in her throat.

“Stop,” She whispers, pleads, almost “Just...Stop.”

He just nods, smiling sadly at her once more, nodding at Spencer before he walks away, heading back over to Beth and Jack. His family.

“You okay?” Spencer whispers, she just smiles. Tears filling her eyes that she refuses to let fall.

“I’m okay.” She says, clearing her throat. “Are you?”

“No..” He says, looking to his left as Morgan dances with his new wife.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, rubbing her hand over his arm. His head drops as he nods, quickly wiping the tear that rolls down his cheek.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She whispers and he laughs, nodding his head. “Okay.” She says, slowly walking them through the reception to not catch anyone’s attention as they slip out.

Half an hour later they’re lay on the bed, still dressed in their wedding outfit, staring on the ceiling.

“I asked you the other week, if it got easier.” He says, she turns to face him as he speaks, “You said eventually...” He pauses, watching as her eyes just stare at him sadly, “It didn’t get easier for you, did it?”

Emily turns away, her eyes on the ceiling as she just lets her tears fall freely.

“No,” she whispers sadly, her broken tone echoing around the room. “No it didn’t.”

“You still love him?”

“I think I always will.”

He sighs, looking back to the ceiling as he claps his hand in hers.

“Do you regret it, never telling Hotch how you felt?”

“All the time.” She sighs, “Which is why even though I know it wasn’t the response you wanted, you should be happy that you told him. That you know now, instead of being left with the what if’s,” She tells him in a low voice, “It’s the what if’s that get you.”

“You could still tell him...” He whispers, but she shakes her head.

“He’s happy, he’s in love...I’m not going to ruin that.”

“Even if it means you’ll never know if he feels his he same?”

“He doesn’t.” She tells him sadly, wiping her tears.

“How can you be sure?” His voice is soft, gentle and she turns to face him with a smile.

“I just am.”

fin

#:/ this is what happens when you let me talk to lili past ten pm #it’s actually sick now last night i turned against them :(#im back now bestie do not worry :) i love hotchniss #moreid just hits different unrequited i am sorry :/#hotchniss fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #moreid fic #unrequited love fic #criminal minds fic #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #hotchniss #my fics

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling.

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier. Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

(message me/reply to this to be added or removed!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #a-z of spencer reid #the a-z of spencer reid

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it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Happy new year! Please remember that most of these chapters are very sensitive to some readers and to be safe with this new year upon us! Another reminder that if you ever feel helpless, you are not alone and you are loved. Love you all- Em <3

Warnings: Sex talk, infidelity, blood, disturbing material, loss of a child, and suicide.

Plot: We take a small look into Heather’s past and the events leading up to her obsession. The team seems to be missing a piece of the puzzle. Adeline comes back to the station.

Word Count: 2.9K

Four years prior- January 10, 20XX

Heather had thinned out since she dropped out of college, to achieve so she had fallen victim to eating disorders. They were horrible, but they did tremendous work. She didn’t necessarily like herself per se, but she did like how she looked, even if sometimes she would look into the mirror and think “Is that me?”

Heather deleted the old version of herself and became more social. She had friends, she went to parties, she even went to bars. The bars were what bothered her the most, maybe it was the Catholic guilt building up, it could also be the fact that she was using a fake i.d. She always hated lying, it made her stomach twist into nervous knots. Tonight, she decided, would be fun. She wouldn’t throw up after eating, she wouldn’t feel guilty for having fun, instead, she would simply have a good time with her friends.

Yes, a good time is what she needed. It was around the start of the new year when Heather, privately, declared that she didn’t have to be so miserable. She deserved to do something fun, at least for tonight. In her attempt at happiness, she dressed in a casual black dress that hugged her body in a way that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable.

Heather could play the social butterfly, but in reality, she was a wallflower. Her friends had yet to arrive so she stayed up against one of the walls of the bar, silently begging that they wouldn’t arrive too late. That’s when David approached her. David was beautiful, to say the least, with dark skin, a defined body, the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen, and to top it all off he was a man in uniform. Even Heather, in all of her innocence, found him irresistible.

Like a shot, Heather and David got married. Heather kept her last name and thanks to their marriage, David got some time off, he could be there to help pick out their new house. It all felt so fast, Heather was happy, but sometimes she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Heather got a good two months with her husband before he off to England.

A year later when David came home, he was more distant, he didn’t want to be there. At first, Heather tried to keep him home with sex. They had sex almost everywhere, like animals. Then he started to go out, with some of their mutual friends. He would go out every night and stay out till six in the morning. Heather felt desperately lost, love slipping through her fingers, and she was hopelessly devoted to a man who was slowly falling out of love with her.

David would still have sex with her, but once he was done he would get up and leave. He always said he had somewhere to be, had work to do, but she knew that he was done with her. Well, done with her until she announced that she was pregnant. Then suddenly he was there again. He stayed in their bed at night and he cared about her.

Six months was coming around when Heather shot up in bed one night, her body in unbearable pain. The couple drove to the hospital as fast as they could, but by the time they got there it was too late, and that’s when the rest started to fall apart. David didn’t start to pull away till a couple of months later, six to be exact, and then he was on his way to Japan.

That’s when it all started, she would read anything romantic she could find. Her library consisted only of romance, sappy as it seemed. She was able to escape into a world where a man could simply love a woman, most adherently. What made her break was when David called a month before their fourth anniversary saying that when he came home he wanted a divorce and that he had met someone else.

That’s when she started seeing Y/N.

***

Present-day- March 9, 20XX

You woke up with the taste of blood in your mouth, not needing a mirror to know that the cut on your lip had broken open more in your sleep. Your tongue slid out of your mouth, licking away the blood in one swift motion. For almost two days now, morphine and blood was your diet. The only thing filtering through your veins.

You didn’t mind at this point, you were close enough to the edge of the bed that you could grab the morphine drip, you turned the nobs to make your intake high enough to feel numb. The drug was currently letting you forget, letting you forget how many times Heather kissed you, letting you forget all the assault that had been inflicted on you in the past few days.

Your head was pounding as your eyes looked around the pink room, the light making you slightly nauseous. You frowned as a tiny thought came into your brain, would this ruin all romantic endeavors for you? Would you ever be able to feel comfortable with someone seeing you naked? Would it be alright if they saw the word ‘Slut’ on your chest? You were about to bite your lip, in a lame attempt to keep yourself from crying before you remembered the cut, and you were reduced to crying silent tears as you stared up at the ceiling, trying your best to let the feeling of numbness wash over you.

Heather was downstairs, in her forest green kitchen, washing the blood off the paring knife. Rational thoughts were finally coming to her as she began to think about the seriousness of her situation. She needed a safe out. If she ran away or killed you it would mean she would have to spend an even longer time in prison. A life spent behind bars, knowing that no one would be missing her. What a painfully sad existence she lived, she thought before she started to sob over the running sink.

She remembered what she said yesterday, about how she would kill herself and you if they ever found the two of you, but that outcome was becoming more of a reality to her now. Did she have to kill Catherine? All she wanted was for you to love her, for the two of you to love each other. She tried to follow the path of normal people, the path of falling in love with someone naturally instead of kidnapping them. She had already done the marriage thing and look where that got her, she was a childless, psychopathic, soon-to-be divorcee.

No, she couldn’t spend the rest of her miserable life in prison, it had to be the latter. Heather dropped the knife into the sink, walking away towards one of the kitchen drawers to pull out a handgun, her husband was in the military, of course, he taught her how to use a gun. She put the gun on the kitchen counter, walking out to the living room to turn on the news. After all, she didn’t have to end it all if they weren’t onto her yet.

***

The profile was on pause, and they had yet to share it. Hotch was staring at photos of Y/N, Adeline Smith, and Heather Alexander, all three went to the same college, lived in the same building, and on the same floor. They all knew each other, all three of them seemed to be friends. Garcia had managed to contact some other girls that lived on that same floor. They knew you and Adeline but didn’t have much to say about Heather.

Spencer took a tiny sip of his coffee, trying to ignore how bad it tasted, as he stared at the photos with Hotch. Y/N was an English major, Adeline was psychology, and Heather was a theater major before she dropped out. He found that strange being as she was a florist now.

Derek let out a sigh, feeling especially restless on this case. He kept saying that he wanted to find you as soon as possible, Garcia jokingly told him that you probably weren’t going to tell him he had nice arms in real life, but the real reason he wanted to find you was because of your last video. It stuck with him, it stuck with all of them, your desperate plea to be found. The one it was effecting the most was Spencer.

During their car rides together, Spencer had shared that he felt they were all being deceived. He said he felt like the person was right under their noses, and yet they were just focusing too much on one thing instead of the other. After that, he combed through the evidence once again, searching for something else. Something that he could have missed, which seemed impossible, but nothing was impossible.

“So, a woman in her mid-twenties that knew Y/N since college and works in the city. Oh, and she’s a beautiful brunette.” Prentiss said with a small cold laugh.

“Let’s not forget that she has a passion for romance novels, especially the classics,” Rossi added as he came to stand with the other members of his team.

A small knock at the door made all of them turn their heads towards the door, looking strangely familiar to a pack of animals. The sheriff stood in the frame of the door as she pointed behind her “There’s an Adeline Smith here, talking about Y/N L/N.” she said simply as Spencer and Emily slipped past her and headed towards Adeline.

“Agent Prentiss,” Adeline said softly with a nervous smile “I was thinking about earlier today when you were interrogating me and I thought about something strange.”

“Strange,” Spencer repeated “How so?”

Spencer and Emily were already leading her back to the conference room they were set up in, offering her a seat before she answered Spencer’s question “Well, I just remembered somethings that Heather did.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat softly, eyes looking around at the team slowly surround her “, She always acted differently around Y/N, she would never say it out loud but she hated it when I was there, you could see it in her eyes.”

Derek set a cup of coffee down for Adeline, she grabbed it as soon as it hit the table, taking a sip to calm her nerves. “She wanted Y/N all to herself, I get that with like a best friend but I was closer to Y/N than she was, so it was just strange.” Hotch frowned as they all shared one single thought, just because Heather Alexander had an unhealthy attachment to Y/N L/N didn’t mean that she was their unsub. Adeline gently gasped and straightened in her chair “I just remembered something!”

“It was around Halloween and the three of us got invited to this party and Y/N, being Y/N, decided she wanted to go as Catherine Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights or something and I told her it was stupid and that no one would get it, but she was pretty determined. Then one night, Heather heard that and she was all excited to be Heathcliff, said that Y/N would be her Catherine Earnshaw, said that she made a perfect Catherine Earnshaw. That never really sat right with me, that’s when I started to think that Heather was a little in love with Y/N, but then she dropped out.”

It clicked then, that their Unsub was Heather Alexander. It made sense, the copies of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, Heather thought of Y/N as her lover, Heather was Heathcliff, she was Mr. Rochester, she believed that Y/N’s purpose was to love her. Spencer was already walking out with Derek before Emily could thank Adeline for coming in. The rest of the team following quickly behind.

***

Heather had her back towards the television, leaning against the back of her living room couch staring out the window. Nothing was coming onto the news and nothing was happening out of the street. Heather could feel guilt eating away at her consciousness, she had snapped earlier when you refused to let her show you her love. You had yet to do that, you were so good, she loved her Catherine. She felt tiny tears rise to the surface, letting them fall as she moved away from the couch, grabbing the gun from the counter, and heading upstairs.

You were frozen on the bed, feeling like you were suffocating as Heather came back into the room. Sometimes she looked so normal, sometimes she looked like she was hurting, suffering from something. Your eyes were locked onto her as she shuffled awkwardly into the room, reminding you of how she used to act in college. Her eyes weren’t staying on you, they seemed to look around the room in a nervous haze. “Catherine,” she said in a tearful voice “I’m sorry.” she apologized, and as soon as she did her eyes locked onto yours.

You felt such pity for her in an instantaneous second, but that emotion was fleeting as you stared up at her. You could never forgive her for what she had done to you, as much as you would like to try to. You would love to be righteous, but you could only feel anger at the moment. She looked down at you, waiting for an answer, waiting for forgiveness. You silently decided that she would have to wait forever, she would have to wait until she held a gun to your head, only then would you forgive her, simply because you didn’t want to die.

You broke eye contact with her, looking around the room as she started to cry over the side of the bed, suddenly noticing that the door was slightly open. You peeled your eyes away from it quickly, afraid that if she followed your gaze she would notice and shut the door.

You were currently trying to move your arm, the morphine making it more difficult than it should have been. When you were finally able to lift your arm, you weakly grabbed Heather’s arm, your hand slipping slowly down her arm. Heather’s tears slowed as she watched your struggling attempt to touch her. She smiled when you did, taking it as a sign of forgiveness. Heather suddenly felt lighter, she slumped over the side of the bed with a heavy sigh. She was about to speak when pounding at the front door interrupted her train of thought.

Her head turned quickly to look over her shoulder, letting out a tiny curse as she ran over to shut the door, locking it from the outside, as the front door was broken down. Heather returned to the bed, grabbing the morphine drip, and yanked the wire out of your vein. You couldn’t feel it yet, but you were sure that soon you would.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins as you realized what was happening. The police were here, the FBI was here, your videos had worked. You didn’t think that they would work, that they would be helpful, you couldn’t believe that the police had called the BAU here, just because you said you wanted them to work your case.

The adrenaline was working quickly, you sat up cautiously, swaying slightly. Heather was hyperventilating now, hand on her chest as she tried to calm down and think. She looked back at Catherine sitting up on the bed, eyes wide. Were you scared? Heather let out a shaky sigh, reaching behind her to pull out the gun she had been hiding under her shirt. Your eyes looked at the gun in her hand before shifting to look into her eyes quickly “Heather,” you started, scooting away from her on the bed. “Heather, you know you don’t have to do this. The police, if you kill me, the police will-”

“You don’t think I know what the police will do? I have to kill you and then I have to kill myself.” her hands were shaking as she held the gun towards you. There was pounding on the door. You felt tears fill your eyes, cheeks becoming red as you began to beg for your life.

“Please don’t do this, we can get out of this together. You don’t have to do this, Heather!” She flinched when you said her name, another pound at the door.

Her eyes were wide as she stole a look over at the door, it was rattling and the two of you could hear voices on the other side. She turned back to look at you, biting her lip as she cried, hands dropping. You didn’t say anything, shaking with anxiety as she lifted the gun up to her chin, smiling sweetly at you. “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”

“Heather, please, listen to me! Please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Goodbye, Catherine.” she finished as she pulled the trigger, gun-shot ringing throughout the house. Your ears were ringing as you let out a blood-curdling scream, watching Heather’s head explode in front of you, then the door came down.

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arpiii · 4 years

Text

The BAU High School Teacher AU

Let’s start with teaching positions:

“Mr. Hotch” - English, History

“Mr. Rossi” - Film, Psychology

“Emily” - French, Arabic, Gym coach

“Morgan” - Woodwork, Weight room & Gym Coach

“Dr. Reid” - Math, Science, Music theory

"JJ” - Spanish, Art

“Garcia” - Drama, Computer Science/Tech classes

“Principal Strauss” - no one likes her

“Gideon” - School counselor

“Officer Elle” - School security

Now about the staff:

Mr. Hotch is the strict teacher. No late work, he doesn’t curve grades, and can tell if you bullshit your tardy. But he’s still supportive towards the students that need it and helps any way he can. He barely smiles and is never absent from class. The only jokes he cracks are really cheesy dad jokes that make the class cringe and groan and snicker because he says them so seriously. If a student is having trouble in the class but it’s because of their parents, Hotch makes sure to meet with them and lecture the parents and defend his student as much as he can. But all his students know, one day each year, he plans a prank on Mr. Rossi, his rival. This is what the class looks forward to every year. A couple times he brings his son Jack to class and the class loves him. They’re also surprised to see Hotch smiling all day and going soft when he talks to Jack. When he has something important to teach he lets Jack hang out with Garcia.

Mr. Rossi is the strict, yet chill teacher. He disciplines his kids and gives them extra credit when they deserve it. He likes to joke with the class and brag about him being a best selling author, the class roll their eyes but enjoy it. He’s also extremely sarcastic and has dry and slightly dark humor. He throws a pizza party at the end of each quarter/term and every time he goes over to Hotch’s class to offer some. Hotch always declines but Rossi leaves it on the desk anyway. The only time Hotch breaks his no emotion streak is when Rossi visits and teases him. The class is told at the beginning of the year that it’s a feud but they all know they secretly have a thing for each other and are too stubborn to admit it.

Emily is the laid back Gym teacher. She and Morgan are constantly one-upping each other and they brag to each other who’s picked up the most girls at bars to entertain the class. She’s the only teacher that know’s how to piss off Morgan and her class loves that. She also teaches French and Arabic. JJ, the Spanish teacher, visits her class and her students notice every time that JJ is the only teacher Emily is sweet with, but JJ doesn’t seem to notice.

Morgan is the cocky gym teacher and weight-room coach, and also teaches woodwork. He’s super chill but strict when he needs to be, and is constantly motivating kids. If a kid is in trouble or scared, Morgan makes sure to resolve the problem or defend the kid with his whole chest. He likes to compete against Emily’s class in sport games during class. But most of his free time he visits Dr. Reid. His main purpose is to embarrass Reid with innuendoes and flirting, which he’s always successful at. Reid’s class enjoys the shit out of it. Emily is annoyed at both of them and is the only teacher that calls Morgan Reid’s “boyfriend” just to mess with both of them. When Morgan can’t visit Reid’s class he sends Emily as a messenger who rolls her eyes every time.

Dr. Reid is that really smart teacher. He teaches up to the advanced math and science classes and also music theory. Reid tells the class to let him know if he’s talking too fast or rambling so he can slow down. He cares about all his students and although the students are annoyed with all the work they get, they enjoy having Reid as their teacher. They love the fact that he loves Dr. Who and give him Dr. Who and nerd themed gifts on his birthday. When the class is doing individual work Reid puts on classical music. The students also teach him about pop culture things like Tik Tok dances and iconic vines. Reid isn’t very social but they see his personality come out when Morgan visits. His face goes red every time Morgan drops an innuendo and threatens Morgan to leave the class. Some ways he’s done that is by throwing a white board eraser at him, threatening to splash a beaker of acid on him, and holding his guitar as a weapon. They know he’s not serious though because Reid fails to hide his smile. Garcia visits the class a lot and she’s like the mom of the class, she sometimes brings treats and likes to chat with the students. Every time she visits, she ad Reid are quietly gossiping in the corner, and although the class can’t hear them, they can tell it’s about Morgan (especially the one time they caught Reid blush during a conversation).

JJ is the Spanish and Art teacher. She is extremely sweet and checks in with her class constantly if they’re doing ok or if they need help. No one is scared to ask questions because she always answers them without making the student feel bad. Her students notice Emily visits a lot, and they can tell they have a thing for each other. Whenever they ask JJ about it, she neither confirms nor denies it so a huge conspiracy starts. She also teaches art and Garcia likes to visit a lot. The two gossip about all the other teachers, JJ fills Garcia in about Emily and Garcia fills JJ about Reid and Morgan. Sometimes, when Reid is out, JJ substitutes his music class. She likes to fool with Morgan when that happens.

Garcia is the mom of the school. Everyone loves her. She teaches drama and comp sci so she is loved by the gays and the nerds. She’s always enthusiastic and supportive and treats her kids. She’s very colorful and gives her kids candy or stickers if they get a question right or do something really cool in their assignment. When she visits Reid, if Morgan shows up she guards the door and keeps him out of the class. Morgan tries to charm her but she charms him back and doesn’t break. Once in a while she fails to keep him out and the class goes nuts watching the show. She’s also called a lot by Hotch because he needs help with technology constantly. Rossi needs help too once in a while but he just relies on his students or eventually figures it out.

Principal Strauss is only seen in the halls once in a while. She monitors classes twice a year and all the students AND the teachers behave their best that day. Even Hotch seems relieved when she leaves the class. She makes announcements at the most inconvenient times. She is also the only one who enforces the dress code on students. Once in a while she asks what Morgan’s doing in Reid’s class and Morgan tries to cover it up and the class backs him up. Rossi’s class finds it hilarious when she’s talking to the class and he’s mocking her from behind, rolling his eyes and making faces. The students clearly know the teachers don’t like Strauss as they constantly complain about her. She calls Garcia’s games and prizes “distractions” and thinks JJ gets off track too much because she checks in with her class to much. The students that hate her the most though are Reid’s students, because she’s the hardest on him for no reason. They can tell by his behavior and can tell he’s drained every time she leaves the class. They tell Morgan and Morgan decides to start a yoga club for students and teachers to destress once a week. He personally invites Reid and that’s the only time the students see Morgan doesn’t mess with Reid. Garcia also offers free hugs to any student who needs one during the school day.

Gideon is everyones favorite staff member. Everyone loves him. His door to the counselor’s office is always open and he always knows what to say to students that have trouble. He’s just very relaxing to talk to. Everyone respects him and even all of the teachers get along with him. He checks in with classes once in a while just to see how everyone’s doing, and sometimes sits in lessons to learn with the students. Sometimes he participates in group assignments. He’s also the only one who stands up to Strauss. He never get’s mad, he’s always calm and manages to talk sense into her. Because of this, she’s never mad at him. When she is, he doesn’t take it personally. He doesn’t go to the yoga classes, but makes sure student’s know about them. He starts the chess club and during the whole year it’s a competition between Gideon’s team and Reid’s team. The students keep track of the bracket thats displayed in the cafeteria and take sides, creating a large yet fun divide in the school. The students ask all the teacher’s who’s side they’re on each year and create flyers to root for each team. It’s also partially a fund raiser for the school to have extracurricular activities. The teachers give extra credit to any of their students who’s rooting for the same team they are if that team wins. Gideon also attends all of the sports games and musical performances.

Officer Elle is school security and most of the students are nice to her. She makes sure to break shit up if a fight breaks out and firmly advises kids to not drink or do drugs. She has PSA assemblies twice a year about security and health. She’s chill and likes to chat with students. She’s basically a badass and makes sure to put kids in their place who deserve it. She also teases Morgan because they have a history in working in security together.

Assemblies:

There are four assemblies every semester. Three out the eight for the entire year, Strauss forces Reid to present. She’s totally unaware that he has the worst anxiety out of all of them (and if he told her she probably couldn’t have cared less and given bullshit excuses). The students eventually catch on that Reid din’t ask to present based off his shaking hands and wavering voice. They also see the looks the other teachers are giving Strauss, who is unaware. Reid bears through it though and Morgan comforts him afterwards as Strauss is giving the closing statement. The student’s support Reid as he’s talking and try to make him feel better. Morgan makes jokes at him to distract him and the class plays along with it. Two of the other assemblies are given by Elle, two others are given by Strauss, and one is given by Gideon. However there’s one unofficial assembly held every year by the students (teachers are invited except for Strauss). At the end of the year the students compile a video of pictures or videos of funny or iconic moments of things that happened to the students or teachers throughout the school year. This usually includes crackhead moments during free time in classes, a kid secretly recording Hotch as he’s trying to tell a dad joke, Morgan flirting with Reid in front of the whole class, Reid’s students dancing in a Tik Tok with Reid (followed by someone recording them creating the Tik Tok), the hype for the end of year chess tournament, the massive pranks pulled by the teachers and students on April Fools Day, everyone’s costumes during Halloween, and so much more. One student brings a popcorn machine. Garcia brings candy.

Specific events:

Morgan crashes Reid’s class multiple times a week. The students look forward to it, because all Morgan does is flirt. He’d spit out innuendos that are somehow related to what he’s teaching. It’s the worst in music class.

“You’re doing well with that fingering” “I’M PLAYING THE GUITAR”

“Hey Dr. Reid, how’s the blowing going?” Reid’s face burns red

“You really stroke the G well-” “GET OUT”

“For a drummer you don’t bang very well” *dodges drumstick*

One time Reid threw a white board eraser at him only to receive “damn you trying to rub me out?” which causes the class to roar.

The class goes crazy every time and someone is bound to be recording every time Morgan steps into the classroom. Morgan would also call Reid “pretty boy” on occasion and ruffle his hair, which Reid would fix right after. (Everyone knows he secretly loves it).

One day Reid gets his hair cut short with curls on top, but Morgan doesn’t find out till the next day. He also wore his glasses that day (which he does wear occasionally). The class started to silently freak as they filed in before the bell rang. When Morgan entered mid class his greeting of “Hey pretty boy” was cut short when he saw him. Morgan stood frozen for a good 30 seconds before Reid approached him (WAY too close) and says lowly “What we’re you saying?” Theres no response from Morgan, the class is trying to stay silent while going ape shit, everyones phones are out, it looks like their noses are about to touch when finally Reid steps away and asks the class “So, who can tell me the answer to number 6?” and just leaves Morgan there. The class tries to recover and when five minutes pass Reid looks back at Morgan (who hasn’t moved) and asks, “Hey Morgan, don’t you have a class to teach?” Finally Morgan snaps out of it and stutters “Uh.. yeah- I gotta... go,,” and leaves the classroom.

Spirit week is a riot.

It starts with Tropical day. Everyone dressed in a hawaiian shirt and wore a fake lei, even Hotch. Garcia gives out lei’s to everyone that doesn’t have one and Rossi gives extra credit to whoever dresses up that week.

Next is 50′s/Grease themed. Morgan went all out with his outfit, leather jacket and sunglasses included. Reid did not own a leather jacket, but he did grease his hair back and wore a white t-shirt which entertained his students. Hotch, along with his outfit, brought a comb and constantly combed through his hair throughout class. Garcia and JJ wore poodle skirts and JJ wore her hair in a high ponytail. Emily wore black leather pants, a polkadot shirt, and a red bandana in her hair with bright red lipstick. Rossi just wore his helmet from the Vietnam war, and when someone called him out, his excuse was the war started in the 50′s so it counts.

Next was Lazy Wednesday, and the students (and Morgan) didn’t know how much Reid in a hoodie could affect them. It got to the point where one of the students had to call out to Morgan “You’re drooling” which followed by laughter from the class. Emily wore her snuggie and JJ and Garcia wore matching Pokemon onesies. Half of the students were distracted because Hotch was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

Thursday was Disney themed. Morgan was, of course, Prince Charming. Every time he entered a classroom he overacted dramatically. Garcia decided to match by being his Cinderella and had her hand kissed by Morgan every time they passed each other. Rossi’s students had a field day with his costume. He dressed up as the toy seller from Toy Story 2. He got Woody and Jessie toys from Hotch’s son, Jack, and he was constantly eating cheese puffs. Hotch melted everyones hearts by dressing as Kristoff and bringing in Jack who was dressed as Sven. Every girl and gay almost had a heart attack from Reid, who was dressed as Milo from Atlantis. But the winners in the students book were Emily, who dressed up as Flynn Rider, and JJ, who dressed up as Rapunzel. They hung out in the halls in between classes, Emily winking at everyone who walked by.

With the good days come the bad. One year, Reid started getting these horrible migraines. He wouldn’t tell anyone, however, and kept teaching. Even Morgan asked a couple times if he was okay. This lasted almost two weeks, and then Reid had to lead an assembly that Friday. The migraines on top of his rising panic attack while he spoke to the students made him feel worse. He started to stutter and feel lightheaded, but Strauss said nothing. Morgan managed to hold on to him and finally told Garcia to take him into the hall. Thankfully Hotch stepped in and continued the assembly like he was presenting the whole time. After it was over, Morgan chewed out Strauss to the point where Emily had to hold him back. The students were confused as to what happened and theories started to spread as school let out. Morgan went straight to Reid who was sitting in a dark empty classroom with Garcia. Reid finally told him about his migraines and Morgan insisted taking him to the ER. The speculations grew when students saw Morgan leading Reid to his car with their arms around each other for support as they walked, Morgan comforting him on the way to the car.

One day, Reid had a doctors appointment for the latter half of the day, so he asked JJ to sub his music theory class. Only, Morgan didn’t know. There was a small hall that led into the big music room, so when Morgan entered, he couldn’t see JJ from where he was. He thought he was sneaking up on Reid, putting his finger to his mouth at the students who saw him sneaking. Finally he walked out to greet who he thought was Reid with “Is that something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” He froze when he saw JJ staring back with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. He saw the class was recording him and shook his head while saying “I will get you back for this.” As he walked out defeated, JJ called after him, “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you about his doctor’s appointment.” which earned a middle finger from Morgan which JJ couldn’t see from where she was standing. This definitely ended up in the end of year slideshow and it was the first time Reid saw the video. He counted that as a victory.

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