#this scene is up there as one of my favourite hotch scenes okay

[panevanbuckley]

coach hotch in "out of the light" [6x22]

+ bonus

#that singular gust of wind is my new best friend #the girls that get it get it and the girls that don't don't #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminalmindsedit #cmedit #criminalminds #aaron hotchner edit #cm 6x22 #this scene is up there as one of my favourite hotch scenes okay #it's about the pure joy. the carefree smiles. how he's so good with the kids! #also him in such casual clothes is doing things to me

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[reiderwriter]

Hi I’m new to this so I’ve no clue if this is how you request, but I was thinking Spencer fluff, in earlier seasons where he’s a little bit more awkward but has a little bit of confidence, based on that one episode where hotch says Reid was propositioned by all the prostitutes & you’re dating him but you’re not the jealous type, they know what they have with Spencer is good and knows he worships the ground they walk on, so isn’t worried or threatened by anyone so while he’s getting hit on being a blabbering mess they just giggle to themselves making little suggestive comments. Hope this makes sense🥰

A/N: That's one of my favourite scenes because it's so hilarious to see Hotch cracking jokes for some reason. That and "did you join a boy band?" Iconic, truly. ❤️ Thank you for requesting, I'll shut up now.

Warnings: none

You were aware that Spencer Reid was a catch. Perfectly aware. More than aware. Desperately aware.

He was, quite possibly, the most attractive bean pole of a man that had ever walked the earth. He was beautiful and he was loving and his smile lit up the room and you were quite honoured to be able to call him your boyfriend.

It was not lost on you that many other people - not just women - also desired him. Which led to some downright hilarious instances.

“It's not funny, Y/N.” He pouted, that adorable furrow in his brow coming back and finding it's perfect place on his face as you stared up at him. You knew the expression you were showing him was a little bit dreamy, head in both hands as you gazed admiringly up at him, but you simply didn't care what kind of company you were in.

“Spencer, you were propositioned by 11 prostitutes.”

“I'm sure they were just teasing, Y/N. I'm awkward, I stand out like a sore thumb, I'm not buff or hot, I'm-”

“A complete and total liar!” You stood, gasping and grasping non existent pearls, playing up your disbelief. He cracked a smile and you paused briefly to send up a prayer to God, thanking them for putting a real angel on Earth.

“Spencer, you may be a little bit nerdy, and you absolutely do not know when to shut up. Your hair may always looks like your mom did it for school picture day, and your fashion sense is questionable to out it kindly-”

“Is there a but? I need there to be a but or I'll cry myself to sleep.”

“But those things are incredibly endearing. And did I mention you're really hot? It's like you're all members of the Scooby Doo cast rolled into one body and somehow that really works for me.” To punctuate your words, you took a step closer, letting your hand play with his tie as you slowly encouraged him to take a small step towards you as well, until you weren't sure where the heat that warmed you was coming from.

It could've been rolling off of him, or you, or it could've been a fire burning between you, as you fixed his tie and ran a hand through his hair.

“I'm not joking with you, Spencer. I love watching everyone appreciate your beauty and your intellect. Frankly, it turns me on.”

“Okay. I'll remember that, thank you.”

“Turns on the prostitutes, too.”

“Y/N! They're just trying to make a living, if you'd have been out there canvassing they'd have tried it with you too.” You had to giggle a bit at his loom of exasperation, flas to see that it was tainted with an uncontrollable smile, a small lifting at the corners of his mouth that he couldn't combat.

“Spencer Reid, Hotch told me that one of the girls offered you $100 for a ride.”

“That's not exactly cheap or a discount, Y/N, the going rate for a working girl in the area is-”

“Spencer. She was offering you money.” His brows knitted again and then his eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh. Oh, she did look very disappointed now that I think about it.” You pressed your hand to your mouth to suppress the small pleasurable giggles from slipping out and composed yourself, before slipping your arms around his waist.

“So, Spence. How is it that you know the going rate of a working girl?” You lifted your eyebrow and watched him panic, ready to memorise every expression that ever passed across his angelic features.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #reiderslibrary #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

The First Meeting

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader Universe

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: stalking, murder, character asking to die (if I missed something please let me know)

Today was supposed to be an easy day for the BAU. It was a paperwork day, no case, no one dying on their watch.

These were some of Spencer's favourite days, don’t get him wrong he loves being in the field and profiling killers, and when they arrest an unsub, that’s the best feeling.

But having days every now and again where they don’t have to travel and Spencer can read and reflect on their previous case, he greatly enjoys it. And he can’t say he’s the only one, but he can say he’s the only one that uses paperwork days to do paperwork.

Penelope walks in the glass doors humming a tune, foreign to Spencer.

“You got that James Dean day dream, hmm hm mhmmm, I got that red lip classic” 

“What’s got you so happy, babygirl?” Derek says, from across Spencer.

“Um, because The Met Gala is tonight! Biggest night in Fashion! And no case means I can watch it.”

“Oh, I must have forgot to put it on my calendar.” Derek, sarcastically remarks while getting up and out of his chair on his way to refill his coffee cup. All the while JJ comes rushing the bullpen, giving the rest of her co-workers a sympathetic face.

“Just when I thought, we would have an easy day.” Emily mumbles getting out her desk chair and walking away with JJ.

“Wally Melman, a music producer in New York, was killed two weeks ago, and Natali Ryan , a singer and songwriter, was killed 4 days ago also in New York.” JJ says while the screen behind her shows pictures of the crime scene.

“The police said they found pictures with the victim's face with ‘You’re Next’ written in red marker across their face. Suspected to have gotten in the mail.”

“And why have they called us now?” Derek says, clearing knowing there was more JJ was going to say but wanting her to get to it quicker. 

“Yesturday, another singer/songwriter, by the name of Y/n L/n-” 

“Oh. My God!” Penny interrupts JJ, having come in to tell the team an update she had gotten from the NYPD. “uh- sorry, I’m sorry.. Um, the NYPD wants a couple of us to go straight to the crime scene once we land, and that the next vic- uh Y/n L/n I suppose- is at the station waiting.” Penny says, turning and leaving after finishing her sentence. 

“Okay everyone, wheels up in 30. JJ can fill us in on the jet.”

When the team arrived in New York, Hotch sent Rossi and Emily to the recent crime scene, and JJ to talk to the media, while himself, Spencer, and Derek went to the station.

When the three got to the station they were shown the note Y/n had gotten from the unsub, different to the others, hers having ‘You Owe Me’ written across her face instead. The team walked into the room they were told Y/n would be in.

Spencer knew she would be pretty, everyone in Hollywood was gorgeous that’s how it worked, but this girl was easily the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, even with her bleached hair that he could assume was a split second decision.

She sat on a chair next to one of the officers' desks, as if she was like everyone else and not a world-wide popstar. Y/n and her manager Joe look up, hearing footsteps walk into the room. She stood up to shake Hotch’s hand. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you and thank you so much.” “Of course” 

She goes to shake Derek hand, saying a greeting similar to the one she gave Hotch, then she comes face to face with Spencer, or possibly- not definitely the most beautiful man she has ever seen, sticking out her hand she says, “Hi, nice to meet you..”

“Dr. Spencer Reid- or just Spencer, you don’t have to call me doctor.” “Nice to meet you Spencer.” Y/n stays looking at Spencer maybe a second longer than she should have. It’s just so hard to look away from a man that beautiful. When Y/n does finally look away, she takes a seat and they begin their questioning. 

“How well do you know Natalie Ryan?”

“Uh, we talked when we were at the same events and were always friendly, but we weren’t friends.”

“How about Wally Melman?”

“What?” 

“Wally Melman, he was a producer who was killed a couple months ago.” Spencer jumps in, making Y/n turn to address him, while she asks her next statement .

“The paper said that it was a robbery.” “The paper was wrong.” Derek responded quickly.

“Did you know him?” Hotch asks, wanting to get back to the questions he has for Y/n.

“I wanted to work with him on my last album, but he started working with..” Y/n cut herself off.

“Who?” Spencer asks concernedly, seeing the scared look on Y/n's face.

“Natalie Ryan, and they beat Y/n for song of the year” Joe says while Y/n is setting her face to rest in her hands, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“Do you ever have the feeling that someone is following you, or watching you?” Derek asks.

“Only every second I spend outside my house. I have fans, and paparazzi following me everywhere. It’s part of the job.” 

“Do you ever get repetitive phone calls, hang ups, or gifts sent anonymously?” Spencer asks.

“I receive flowers, Lilies, my favourite. The seventh of each month they get sent to each of my homes, they just show up on the doorstep. Never a note, nothing.” 

After a few more of their questions it just becomes too much, knowing that these people are being killed because of her or ‘for’ her and Y/n gets up and leaves the room. Not being able to actually leave given the cameras outside, she doesn’t get too far. And Spencer is right behind her.

“Y/n wait!”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on?”

“Well, it’s still rather speculative, but it appears there’s a delusional assassin who’s killing people to help further your career. It probably started as a stalker. An erotomaniac stalker. There’s a psychopathology of the evolution of these types of stalkers and the fact that he’s contacting you indicates that he believes you owe him something. This model frequently concludes itself with one of two possibilities, either the stalker will kill himself or he’ll kill the object of his affection.”

If Spencer wasn’t talking about the possibility of Y/n’s untimely death, she would have had more time to find Spencer’s rambling and seemingly never ending knowledge hot.

Y/n had gotten home from her time at the station, hoping to be able to relax as she has the Met tomorrow night. But when she had gotten to her front door the yellow notepad paper taped onto it caught her eye.

After reading the note she called the station immediately. The BAU had arrived looking over the note, Y/n was in the room but not listening, she onlys snaps back into listening to the conversations when she hears Spencer. 

“In English?” one of the officers asks.

“That is English actually.” Y/n smiles at that, while Spencer continues, getting cut off by Derek not too far into his explanation. Y/n finally speaks up, after the team starts talking about how she should continue, as if she isn’t there.

“I’m standing right here guys..”

“If we did remove you from the street, you couldn’t stay here, we would have to take you to an undisclosed location.”

“I have a fitting here in 30 mins, and the Met tonight, then I’m all yours. Look, I don't want to be afraid of this lunatic.”

"We can clear all but essential personnel, and up your security.”

“Derek and Spencer will stay here with you.”

“Okay.”

The team getting Y/n ready for the Met have set up, Y/n just finished getting hair and makeup done in just her underwear and a robe. Spencer walks up to Y/n while she’s opening a greenhouse ginger shot to drink.

“I’m sorry if I was insensitive earlier.” Spencer says, referring to when he followed her outside of the questioning room and told her there was a possibility this stalker/assassin guy will kill her, just a tad insensitive.

But nonetheless Y/n responds with, “It’s fine, you were just doing your job, right?” “Yeah.” Y/n takes her ginger shot with a look of remorse on her face. She reaches for the soda in Spencer’s hand, to wash it down. 

“You don’t mind sharing with me do you?”  Spencer quickly shakes his head mumbling a quick ‘no’ while Y/n’s team calls her to get into the dress, Y/n takes off the robe she was wearing, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen, then throwing the robe over a nearby chair. Now standing in just her underwear she smiles at Spencer before walking over to the team helping her get into the dress.

Leaving Spencer to watch her as she subtly sways her hips slightly more than usual when she walks. Spencer takes a sip of the soda Y/n had handed back after taking a sip, Derek coming over to tease Spencer about the scene he just watched.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” “Shut up.” Spencer says as he walks away. “Go get ‘em, lover.”

Y/n didn’t get to stay at the Met nearly as long as she wished. With double the security and Spencer there with her, she knew she wouldn’t have the night she was hoping for, but maybe something close.

But as she danced with Tom Hiddleston, Spencer got the call to take her to the safe house. Spencer didn’t really want to interrupt Y/n dancing on who he assumes is  another famous person, but he had to, for her safety. 

“Um- Y- Y/n we have to go.” Spencer says while struggling to gain her attention.

“Really?” “Yeah..” “Okay” she sighs, turning to Tom, mumbling an apology and some fake excuse.

They got to Y/n's home. Spencer rambling about safety measures Y/n should take. “You should also probably change all your phone numbers.” “I’m unlisted.” “Anytime you call an 800 number or an 888 number your phone number’s put into a data bank that’s then sold to telemarketers. If someone gets your cell phone number they can go online and research all your records.”

Y/n looks at Spencer expecting him to continue, but when he doesn’t she assumes he’s done, and gets up to walk into her kitchen, saying as she gets up, “You’re very cute when you ramble.” Causing Spencer to freeze but when she turns the corner out of his sight he rushes to keep up with her.

“You should also probably carry a piece of paper and a pen with you wherever you go in case you see any suspicious licence plates that often reappear.” Spence trails of looking closely at a collage hung up on Y/n’s wall 

“It’s a photographic collage. I like how obscure it is.”

“You should also get a dog. Like a guard dog of some sort.” Spencer says, staring intently at the collage but not acknowledging what Y/n said about it. 

“I don’t think so, I'm a cat person. Dogs are not for me… Earl grey good?”

“Wha- what?”

“Tea, do you want some tea?”

“Uh yes, yes sure.”

“Okay” Y/n says smiling at his nervousness.

Y/n walks into the living room, in her swimsuit with a robe overtop, coming to stand next to Spencer while he stares intently at the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. 

“Are you feeling anything?” “There is something definitely appealing about it.” “That’s a start” Y/n says while chuckling.

Turning on her heels towards the back door to the pool. This catches Spencer’s actions wondering what she's doing, he asks, “What are you doing?” “Going for a swim.” Y/n responds nonchalantly. “What? No, Y/N!” Spencer yells following her, but before he can reach her she dives into the pool.

Swimming up to the surface and wiping her face with her hands. She looks so gorgeous, she looks like a movie star, which is not far off. But Spencer really shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is when he’s job is to keep her safe, and her being out here is not safe.

“Y/n, you cannot do this.” “Just a few minutes?” She ‘asks’ while giving Spencer puppy dog eyes. “Go get a suite in the house.” “What? No, I’m not going to grab a suit. Are you kidding me? No.” Spencer says in that high pitched tone he does, she’s only heard it once before, but she can’t help but find it so cute.

“Join me.” “No, I’m going to join you.” “Why not?” “You’re being pursued by a psychotic killer who shoots people in the head!” “I’m not going to stop living my life because of him.” Y/n turns to float in the water. “Y/n, I’m begging you. Will you please get out of the pool?”

“Come on, Spence, you should live a little.” “Live a little? I’ve not known you for 24 hours, I feel like I’ve already aged 10 years.” “Ugh, I can’t be that bad.” “Yes, you are that bad.” Y/n turns off of her back and starts to swim to the edge of the pool Spencer is standing at. 

“Fine, but can you help me out at least?” She says putting on an innocent face as if she really did want help out of the pool. When Spencer leans down to grab her hand to help her up, Y/n pulls him into the pool causing a big splash following after Spencer falls in. 

Which then causes a laugh to come from Y/n as Spencer rises to the water's surface. 

“Yes, very funny. Laugh it up, Y/n. Hilarious. My gun’s wet. That’s just great” Spencer swims to the edge to get his gun out of the water, Y/n swimming behind him, still chuckling. 

“My clothes.” “I told you to grab a suit.” 

While Spencer looks down at his wet chest, Y/n’s hand comes to rest on his peck, causing Spencer to look up at Y/n. When he looks at her, she is already looking in his eyes, her eyes asking the question ‘do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?’ the answer being ‘yes’ as Spencer starts to lean in. Not knowing what he’s doing, leaning in to kiss Y/n L/n global superstar? Who does he think he is, thinking she would want to kiss him? But contrary to Spencer's beliefs, Y/N leans in too, pulling his body closer to hers faster by his tie. As their lips collide, it feels as if the world slows down. For the first time in a long time Y/n feels normal, regular, ordinary, in the best possible way. She feels in the way Spencer's lips are moving against hers that he doesn’t want her for her fame, or looks, but for her. Just her. But then Spencer pulls away. It had only been a couple seconds, how could a kiss that short hold that much emotion? Spencer’s words stop her from thinking too much. 

“This is completely inappropriate.” “Spence..” Y/n looks into Spencer's eyes only looking away when she closes them and pulls him into another kiss, by his tie. This kiss, still sweet and emotion filled, yet rougher, as if they had gotten that much more comfortable now versus 15 seconds ago. Their lips move together roughly, Y/n tongue brushing Spencer’s lips looking for access, which causes Spencer to move his lips back from Y/n’s again. “No, there’s this thing called transference.” Spencer says, all the while Y/n is trying to recover from the best kiss of her life, and Spencer has no idea. “Do you not like me?” “What?” Spencer says quickly like him not liking her, and is just the most insane idea in the world, and truthfully that’s not far off. “Was that kiss not good?” “No- no it was very good.” “Because I like you.” “I like you too. It’s just I’m a federal agent. You know. And I’m supposed to protect you.” “Then you should keep me close.” Y/n mumbles moving her lips to Spencers again. Spencer pulls back to start talking again, as Y/N’s kisses move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin every so often, the first nibble causing Spencer to let out a surprised noise that quickly turns into a moan. “I’m just, hmm.. I’m a little worried, you know? We’re in a pool.” “Are we?” “And it’s uh.. We’re pretty much exposed.” Y/n moves to give Spencer's lips a quick peck, before responding to his concerns. “We have cops. We have cops posted out front.” Y/n cuts herself off to kiss Spencer again, “There are coyotes out back.” Y/n pauses looking at Spencer’s lips, while licking her own, then shooting her eyes up to Spencer’s “And then it’s just you and me.” Y/n moves her lips to be hovering over Spencer’s their noses rubbing against each other, it feels much more intimate than just kissing him, breathing in the after shave and cologne mixed with chlorine soaked into his skin is a smell Y/n would never get sick of, no matter how much she hated the smell of chlorine. She moves her lips back to the spot she found on his neck that makes him the most reactive. “Stop- I have to tell you something.” “What?” “I didn’t want to tell you this before, because I was a little bit worried… I didn’t know how to say it, but I can’t not tell you.” “Spence, just tell me. What is it?” “Your manager, Joe… Hotch went to check on him, but he got there too late.” Y/n looks into Spencer’s eyes any ounce of a look that would tell her he wasn’t serious. Because Joe couldn’t be dead. Not because of her, Joe was like family, no matter how weird he was. Joe was always there. Y/n turns away not being able to look at Spencer, “How could you-” She turns back to him, looking Spencer in the eyes as she aks, “How could you not tell me?” “I was afraid you’d be upset.” “You knew? How could you know and not tell me?” “Y/n, I’m so sorry” Y/n moves towards the edge of the pool to pull herself out, Spencer trying to help her. “Don’t- Don’ touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” Y/n gets out walking back into the house with a towel around herself, leaving Spencer in the pool.

Spencer walks into Y/n’s living room, seeing her sitting on her couch crying, he wants to comfort her. Just don't know how. “Y/n?...Are you still… Are you okay?” “Joe was like family.” Hearing Y/n cry hurts Spencer more than he thought possible from a girl he met not even 24 hours ago. “It’s just so hard to trust people in this industry, you don’t know who to believe.Everybody wants something from you. And I felt- I thought you were different.” “I know I should have told you.” “I told him not to.” Rossi cuts in having heard most of the conversation from behind Spencer. “He was only following my orders.” Rossi pats Spencer's shoulder while leaving the room. “The last time I could really trust people was when I moved to Nashville.” Y/n says, all the while Spencer is decoding the picture collage on Y/n’s wall. “Nashville, you said you lived you Houston street? And you were on KZ fm in high school?..” “Yeah..?” When Y/n sees the way Spencer is intensely staring at the collage she also gets up, to stand next to him. “I need to take this thing about.” Spencer says while not looking away. “What?” “I’ll put it back. I think I see images of you. Guys!”

Y/n stands to the side with Derek while Spencer and Emily are putting the pieces together. “Y/n, it looks like someone has been stalking you for years.”

“Yeah, this tells your whole life story. Awards, Billboard charts, Albums.” 

“Everything since moving to Nashville.”

“Who gave you this collage?” Derek asked, leaning over the island counter. “Um- he did” Y/N says pointing at a picture on the collage. “Who is he?” “Uh- Parker Dunley, I don’t really know him, he just owns a gallery I go to sometimes.” 

Spencer gets off the phone quickly turning to Y/N. “Y/N, do you someone by the name of Veronica Hartley?” “Roni? Yeah, of course I know her. I’ve known her for years. She’s one of my assistants.” Their conversation gets cut off by Y/n’s phone ringing. “What is it?” Spencer asks, seeing the way her eyes widened when she read the caller ID.

“That’s her calling now.” 

“Is she calling from her cell phone?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Y/n, we think Roni’s the stalker.” 

“No- No way.” 

“Answer the phone. Act completely natural, the longer you keep her on the line the more likely we’ll be able to trace the call.. Trust me.” Spencer walks away to call the team, while Y/n answers Roni’s call.

“Hello?…Roni?...” Spencer turns to Y/N and gives her a signal to keep talking.

“Rons?... You’re tired?......I saw you today?.... I don’t know what you’re talking about.. I remember.. Roni, that was just one weekend…”

“Y/n” Spencer whisper yells, after getting off the phone with Penny, finding out Roni’s calling inside the house.

“How did she get inside?”

“She has keys.”

Spencer starts searching the house Y/n walking behind him. When they get up to a guest bedroom, Y/n feels the barrel of a gun being pressed to her skull, Spencer quickly turns around. 

“Put down the gun.” Roni demands. “Roni..” Spencer says while lowering his gun. “Don’t call me ‘Roni” you don’t know me! Come on, Y/n, let’s go. We have to go, baby. Come on.” Y/n looks in Spencer’s eyes begging him to do something. “Roni, don’t hurt her. You don’t need to hurt her.” “You don’t know anything. I would never hurt her. I created her" "No you didn’t.” “Yes, I did you stupid, ungrateful, little bitch.. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” “Roni, she.. She loves me now.” Roni moves her gun from pointing it at Y/n’s head to pointing it at Spencer. “She told me so. When we were in the pool. She kissed me. Now she loves me okay?” “No.” “Tell her we kissed in the pool.” “No!’ Roni yells this time switching from pointing her gun from Spencer to Y/n. Y/n looks at Spencer hopefully to tell her the next move, when he nods his head at her she says, “Yes, we kissed.” Roni then pushes Y/n, and Spencer tackles Roni to the ground, grabbing her gun, and pointing it at her. “Kill me! Please. Kill me! I’ll be so much happier!” But Spencer shakes his head, lowering the gun as he says, “No, we’re going to get you some help.” 

Y/n is standing in the station talking to her publicist, while news vans are lined up outside.

“I don’t want any media.” “Come on, Y/n” “No. No media.” “Okay, no media. Let me deal with these guys then.”

After Y/n’s publicist leaves, Spencer walks up to Y/n. “I wish we didn’t meet under these circumstances. More normal maybe.” “Y/n, believe me, no matter how we met, I’m glad we did.” Y/n feels her whole body, warm at that, she turns her head, knowing Spencer can see the blush on her face. They’re interrupted when Derek yells for Spencer. “Hey, Reid. Come on, we got to move.” “Well, um- here, take this.” Y/n passes Spencer a receipt she had written her new number on. “Would you- if it’s okay with you, give me a call.” “Yeah, I would love to.” Rossi comes walking over. “I hate to intrude, kid, but we’re waiting.” “Yeah- yeah a second.” “So- call me, I’ll be waiting.” Y/n turns to walk away, but Spencer puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Y/n turns towards Spencer, he puts his hand on her check, Y/n leaning into his palm, turning her head slightly to press a small kiss into his palm, before walking away. 

#spencer reid x singer!reader #spencer reid x famous!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid

[hotchley]

Is this the new ask tag thing? I am confused!

If it is, here are my second birthday 🎂 🎁🎈🛍 requests, as a mutual: 🌙💫💥, with Gotcha! for whichever one the song request is for. Thank you!

I think it's because my ask and submit aren't exactly clear with what they are so it's easy to mix them up! I should specify... anyways onto the requests!

🌙 and i will tell you about a scene or character trait from my novel that reminds me of you

tw: divorce

So there's a scene with Tristan and Katherine- Jonathan's younger sister. Mr Carter and Camilla have left, but it takes place after the divorce is exposed to everyone, including Katherine since she hardly knew her mum had left.

Katherine asks Tristan why their mum doesn't love her anymore. And Tristan explains that just because her mother's love was the first one she knew, it won't be the last and everything will be okay in the end because someone else will love her again and she will learn that her blood family are not everything.

You remind me of Tristan in that scene.

💫and i will tell you about my favourite fic of yours (or headcanon, depending)

Obviously it's the Into The Gotchaverse fic for Hotch's birthday! My favourite thing was the pancake making because of the references to the strawberry allergy, and overall, it was just so incredibly cute and adorable and absolutely perfect!

The kids fit their sibling placements perfectly, and I loved how everyone interacted with them because it was such a nice and cute thing to read.

💥and a ship/character and i will shuffle my playlist and create an AU with the first viable song that plays

Everything was sad, and Gotch is my one good thing that is mostly untainted by angst, so I had to shuffle several times. Got there eventually.

Fearless- Taylor Swift

I'm putting them in high school. Garcia is normally very outgoing, bubbly, does not care about what anyone thinks of her and... dare I say it, fearless.

Hotch is very concisely put: not. He's shy, quiet and tries to avoid making eye contact with most people so they can't judge him. Nothing wrong with being shy or quiet, but Garcia needs him to see how great he is so she immediately becomes friends with him.

He asks her to prom, and she's so infatuated with him that she's determined to impress him. Even though he doesn't need impressing because he's head over heels in love with her, and he realised that when she told a younger student it was okay that they'd dropped pasta over her since accidents happened.

(In this universe, the absolute chaos that is Haley and Emily, who adore teaming up against Hotch just in all aspects of life, are together.)

Anyways, Garcia puts a ton of effort in, as does Hotch but then the dance gets a bit loud so they leave, and she's afraid to get soaked but they can still hear the music so they dance to it and then they have a perfect(ish) first kiss.

It's ish because it's their first one and they're all wet, but it's still as close to perfect as any moment of life could possibly be.

#happy birthday hotchley #louisa <3 #gotch #tw divorce

[elldell1204]

Hair Me Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

Y/N wears her hair in many different styles, and her boyfriend, Spencer, seems to appreciate each one in different ways.

A/N: So, I just wanted to add, I try to make my ‘reader’ as ambiguous as possible, that way you can identify with them more. However, I struggled with this one, as I am a white female with straight hair and not much knowledge of (though deep appreciation and love for) natural or curly hair, seeing as I have little to no experience. Therefore, I have tried making this as inclusive as possible but I’m sorry if at any point seems too specific and you can’t put yourself into the story. Feel free to call me out on anything you aren’t comfortable with!

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, normal Criminal minds stuff (let me know if I missed anything)

wc - 3,217

Dutch Braids -

You and Spencer had just gotten off from work about an hour ago after a gruelling day with an equally stressful case. Which is why as soon as you were both showered, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find and waiting for the takeout to arrive, you were both sprawled out on the couch in front of a movie, having no energy left to talk, let alone move when there was a knock at the door. Seeing as you were the one with less of the other person’s body parts draped across you, you got up and answered while Spencer didn’t move an inch. You couldn’t blame him; the poor boy was exhausted.

Around twenty minutes later, you’d both eaten, leaving your plates on the coffee table in front of you with the mental promise to wash them later, and were back to snuggling into each other, getting as close as you possibly could to soothe each other after the day you had. Your head was tucked neatly into Spencer’s chest, your knees drawn up to near your chin in the foetal position, making yourself as small as possible. Spencer was the opposite; spread like a starfish with his arm around your back and his head rested against the back of the couch.

If someone were to ask you what the movie was about, you wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Truth is, you felt like you were stuck in-between both the lands of sleep and consciousness, due to wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend (despite him being your work partner for the best part of sixteen hours) but also wanting to sleep for three days. In attempt to make yourself just a little bit more awake, you started trying to focus on different things around you. First it was the quote on the front of the main character’s t-shirt, then it was the Metro you could faintly hear as the last train of the night rattled by, then it was Spencer’s finger tracing up and down one of your braids that you’d done quickly after your shower.

“Spence?” You murmured the first words spoken in practically an hour.

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, his half-lidded eyes shifting to your face that you had lifted to face him.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was merely a whisper, and if you weren’t listening for it, the only way you’d know he was speaking was from the vibration of his chest.

You gestured to your hair with your finger, and only when he realised did he stop what he was doing and chuckle lightly and dreamily.

“Oh, sorry, I’m not sure, it just feels soft, I guess. I’ll stop.”

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled at him, mustering up the energy to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his lips before retracting back to your previous position.

Ponytail -

To say you were having a bad day was an understatement. You usually like to try and stay as positive as you could be when chasing a serial, paedophilic murderer, but there’s only so many deep breaths and coffee breaks you can take before you really start to get pissed off. Not only had you been stuck in hot and sticky Texas for near a week, but you had also been put into single rooms at the hotel you were staying at. Now, not to sound ungrateful (because you very much are of the fact that you at least have a roof over your head), but only having one single bed to a room means that you can’t snuggle with Spencer after a long day, and these were proving to be very long days.

And to add to the problem, Hotch was constantly on edge since the start of the case, with the victims looking a hell of a lot like Jack, and when you were the closest person to him on that first day when his tensions finally boiled over, you had been the one in the firing line of his rage. Which you can take. You knew he didn’t mean it, and if he had to take his frustrations out on someone for a few days so he could do his job with a clearer head, you were happy to be the target.

But now after a particularly rough six days, your patience was wearing thin, and everyone on the team could see it, which is why they offered you and Spencer any jobs they were assigned that would get them out of the stifling police precinct. And you knew they had good intentions, but even that was starting to annoy you.

So now you were sat at the table in the conference room, a pen between your teeth as your eyes frantically search over the evidence you have piled in front of you, desperate for the answers to this case to fly off the page and hit you smack dab in the forehead so you could just go home and have a fight with a pillow or something, anything to destress.

You heard the footsteps coming from the doorway, but you refused to turn around. If it was Hotch, you swear to god you might actually lose your job with what you were thinking of doing if he was short with you one more time. If it was Morgan ready to hand you a first-class ticket to visit the slightly wrinkly and very smelly coroner again, you might actually flip the table.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer greeted you warmly, sitting on the table to your right as your eyes slowly lifted to meet his. No, not Spencer. Hold it together, Y/N, hold in your rage, he’s done nothing wrong. “Oh, I haven’t seen you with your hair tied back in a while. I like it.”

Such a sweet statement, and yet it broke you. You could see in his face the moment your eyes lit aflame with anger, and you couldn’t miss the harsh swallow he took to brace himself for your fury.

“Well, Dr Reid, let me teach you a lesson, shall I? 3 reasons. One, it is way more practical for kicking someone’s ass, and right now, I would love nothing more than catching the sleazy son-of-a-bitch who is deriving pleasure from this,” You gesture violently to the crime scene photos splayed out in front of you before continuing to spit your venom. “And beating the living shit out of him until he’s crying out for his mommy. Two, do you know how many officers have tried to flirt up a storm with me in the past week? Way too many to count on one fucking hand! One even went so far as to try stroking my hair like a goddamn cat, and so to avoid that situation, I have put it in a ponytail, because if anything of that nature happens again, I won’t hesitate to break someone’s arm. And three, I usually have it down because most men think you’re dumber when you play with your hair, or I can play seductive to get what I want without a warrant fifty percent of the time. But seeing as we have absolutely nobody on the suspect list right now, and the sheer fury I possess at this moment, I don’t foresee the possibility of me needing to be either of those things, do you?”

Your lungs were heaving once you were done, and poor Spencer looked like you just told him you were a Russian spy sent to kill him. Your eyes were locked onto each other’s, and when you came back to reality from your rant, you recognised the softness and love in his that you were grateful for every day. Granted, they were a little masked by fear right now, but you’d admired him often enough to be able to spot even the faintest hint of your favourite emotions.

You let out a deep sigh, signalling you were back to your normal self as much as you could be right then, before dropping your head into your hands to rub your eyes with the heel of your palms.

It was then you felt the unmistakeable warmth of Spencer’s hand rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you gathered yourself together, bringing tears to your eyes as you opened them once more to face him.

“Oh, Spencer,” You whispered, grabbing his hands tightly with yours, lifting them to your lips and pressing sweet kisses to his knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it’s really not. I never should have raised my voice at you, especially when it’s not your fault at all that I’m frustrated.”

“Y/N, I understand.” He smiled at you, a small and sympathetic one, but it calmed you nonetheless as he stood, pulling you up from the chair to wrap his arms tightly around you. You gripped onto him like he might run away if you didn’t, breathing in the warm scent that is so unmistakeably Spencer. Your vision was now cloudy with the tears that so desperately wanted to spill, but you were adamant you wouldn’t give the local cops the satisfaction of seeing you with wet cheeks. Luckily, Spencer knows you better than anyone.

“There’s a park a few minutes’ walk from here with a small duck pond. Would you like some fresh air?”

You nodded frantically against his neck as you finally let go, allowing him to lead you out of the precinct, hand in hand, his thumb running softly over yours as you walked.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, leaning in closer to him as you carried on down the path.

“Nonsense,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “We deserve each other. Just remind me not to get on your bad side; I like having both of my arms functional.”

Bed Head -

A blaring alarm at 6am has to be up there with one of the most annoying things on the planet, and I work with Derek Morgan. You let out a groan, your arm floundering around to find the source of the wretched noise. Groaning in defeat of not being able to do it with your eyes closed, you cracked one open, locating your phone, and finding sweet relief in the snooze button. A very overexaggerated yawn left your lips as you attempted to stretch your arms over your head in an effort to wake up, only to find one immobilised in the grasp of your boyfriend.

You took advantage the rare opportunity of waking up before Mr Alarm Clock himself (also known as Dr Spencer Reid) by allowing yourself a few minutes to admire his form in the golden sliver of sunlight escaping the outside world through the gap in the curtains. It was only when your alarm went off again after the five-minute snooze timer did you try to wake him up.

“Spence, baby, time to wake up.” You whisper, attempting to gently coax him from his slumber. When that didn’t work, you laced your fingers through his mousy-brown curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just how he likes. Only then did you receive a response in the form of a muffled groan into his pillow.

“C’mon, my love. We need to get ready for work.” You spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

You chuckled lightly, wrapping your arms around his torso as your legs entwined. “Okay, my sleepy darling. But only five.”

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He mumbled, nestling his face into your hair as he pulls you closer than you thought possible.

Safe to say you took breakfast to go, just so you could bask in each other’s embraced for a little longer than five minutes.

Post-Sex Hair -

You climbed from his lap gently, unsure if your legs could hold yourself up as you panted heavily. Practically throwing yourself down beside Spencer on the bed, he took the opportunity to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his as you laid your head on his chest. You were both still a little dreamlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and when Spencer began to press kiss after kiss into your hair, you didn’t hesitate to enjoy them.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your hair, punctuating his statement with a final kiss for good measure.

You looked up from your position, shifting slightly so you were face to face, and scrunched up your nose. “Really? Even with sweaty sex hair?”

He chuckled, and you followed with a giggle of your own as he leant over to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. “Especially with sweaty sex hair.” He whispered with a joking edge to his voice, his lips brushing with yours.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the team wouldn’t love my sweaty sex hair, so I better hop in the shower.” You smiled, kissing him quickly once more before climbing out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, a sway to your hips.

As you reached the door, you turned to shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the blissed-out boy behind you. “Oh, are you not joining me?”

You swear you’d never seen the boy move as fast as when he clambered from the bed and chased you into the bathroom.

Straightened -

There was something about going undercover that equally excited you and creeped you out. Especially tonight, when you were having to go under in a club to catch a guy who was killing adulterous wives. You were the closest person in the team to his type, so it was a no-brainer to choose you, really. Didn’t mean you were happy with it, and it seemed that Spencer wasn’t either, if his clenched jaw was anything to go by.

Well, you were going to do it no matter what, so why not get yourself dressed up and try to bring some joy back to a less than ideal situation? That is why you were stood in the locker room of a precinct on the west coast in a red crushed velvet minidress with black heels, a fake wedding ring and straightened hair, and you couldn’t lie, you were totally feeling yourself.

“Woah, Y/N, you look…amazing.” You heard Spencer say as he entered the room.

You turned your head and smiled at him, feeling a little flustered as his eyes trailed over your form. You attempted to push your dress further down your thighs as he walked to you, his hands encircling your waist from behind and his head perched on your shoulder.

“It’s not too much is it?” You mumbled, looking down at yourself to do a final once over.

You felt his fingers under your chin, lifting your head to look him in the eyes through the mirror, ones filled with love and a hint of desire that set your skin aflame. He brushed your hair aside from your neck to trail kisses down the side of your throat, eliciting a breathy sigh from your lips.

“No, Y/N, you look badass.”

You giggled at the word that seemed so foreign coming from Spencer, but that was soon muffled when he spun you around by his hands on your hips and his lips hungrily met yours. Your lips moved against each other’s, his tongue coming to swipe at your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You granted it, and soon you felt your back collide with the cool metal of the lockers. You grabbed a fistful of his shirt as you explored his mouth with your tongue, relishing in the taste of him. You laced a hand up into his hair as you felt a hand that he had at your waist moving to your ass, gripping it roughly, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Reid? Y/L/N? You two lovebirds ready?” You heard Morgan mock from the doorway and you both immediately jumped apart like some sort of invisible wall had shot up between you.

Looking around to see that Morgan wasn’t in your eyeline, given that the lockers luckily blocked you two from his view. But not from earshot, seeing as you could quite clearly hear his hearty chuckles as his footsteps got quieter and quieter.

You looked up at Spencer, his hair dishevelled and his tie askew, a look of both embarrassment and amusement at being caught making out like two horny teenagers adorned his face. A grin broke out on your lips, which he mirrored, and soon you were both laughing hysterically as you sorted yourselves out in the tiny little mirror on the wall, attempting to make it look like you weren’t a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off, before re-joining the team in the conference room.

Messy Bun -

Ugh, cold and flu season. You swear you never make it through it unscathed. And it seems as if your battle was commencing today. You woke up feeling dreadful; runny nose, scratchy throat, constant sneezing, and red-rimmed eyes. Attractive.

There was no question in having to call in sick, so after throwing your hair up in the messiest of messy buns and locating the snuggest blanket, you dialled the number. You could practically hear the wince from Hotch when you started having a sneezing fit down the phone. Now you weren’t sure if you could look the man in the eye when you went back.

Once that torture was over and done with, you were feeling sorry for yourself and decided on a warm cup of tea and a dose of shitty daytime television. You were halfway through some over-enthusiastic talk show when you heard a knock at your door. Refusing to leave the blanket behind that you’d burrito’d yourself in, you shuffled over to the door.

You didn’t expect a very sympathetic looking Spencer on the other side of the door, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a welcomed sight.

“Hey.” You croaked out.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You gave him a look that said it all, and he chuckled lightly. He lifted the bag he had in his hand. “I brought the best cure I could think of; chicken noodle soup.”

“I don’t want to get you sick, Spencer.” You whined, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side but holding onto your selfless and rational thoughts by a mere thread.

You smiled at that, stepping aside to let him in. He passed you and went and got comfortable on your couch, grabbing a fork on the way. When you met him in the living room, he was ready and waiting for you with his arms open for you to snuggle into.

“Don’t worry about me. Now come on, your soup is getting cold.” He smiled, making grabby hands at you.

You made your way over, sinking into his embrace as he passed you the container and your fork. After a few mouthfuls and several minutes of listening to his steady breaths and thumps of his heart, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you.” You mumbled once you were finished and had placed your empty container on the coffee table in front of you, nuzzling further into Spencer’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Didn’t have to tell you twice.

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg fluff

[madswonders]

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

---------

As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

[panevanbuckley]

my absolute favourite thing is when Hotch and Reid start bouncing ideas off of each other. there's something in the way Hotch's eyes light up, how he jumps right into it, it's rare. (even rarer for it to be someone to be engaging with Reid like that, let's be honest.)

these scenes literally end up being these two practically finishing each other's sentences, their minds melding into one, and Hotch always looks so pleased with whatever Reid says. I just love it, okay?

#yes i'm trash for them no i'm not surprised either #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #the combination of two brilliant minds #it's beautiful #sorry this is a hot mess i'm just rambling about my love for them at this point

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

[preciousprentiss]

Prompts of Hotchniss - Chapter Six

Y’all know that scene at the end of Gatekeeper (9x7)? How the team all sing Piano Man by Billy Joel and Hotch films them because he loves them all and they’re just dorks? It’s been my headcanon for so long that he films it so that he can send it to Emily, and so I kinda had to write a chapter about it.

                                                          -----

Prompt: Person A and Person B texting.

Once she had tossed her handbag onto the table and all but flopped onto the sofa with a cup of coffee in hand, Emily curled up and reclined against one of the cushions before remembering that a text message had come through while she’d been driving home from work. Leaning forward, she opened her handbag and rummaged around inside it for a moment before taking out her phone and turning on the screen, a smile of true happiness spreading across her lips when she realized that the text had been sent by Hotch and immediately opened it.

Dave forced us all to come to this bar for its closing night. Tried to get out of it by saying that I had too much work to do, but he wouldn’t let it go, so I had a little fun of my own. Thought you might enjoy watching these five make complete idiots out of themselves, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to send this to you. You should come visit soon. We all miss you. – H.

She wasted no time in opening the video message once she had finished reading his text, and she burst out laughing the moment it started to play and she listened to Rossi, Garcia, Reid, and JJ sing the opening verse to Piano Man by Billy Joel. That song had always been a favourite of Rossi’s, she knew that, and it made her feel all warm inside as she thought back to the many times they had sung it together at the end of a dinner party at his place. He had never allowed a single one of them to leave until they had sung it, not even Hotch, and even though they had all complained a little at times, they had all gotten into it eventually and they had had a great time. There weren’t words to describe how much she missed those idiots. It really had been too long since the last time she’d visited them, so maybe it was time to head out there again.

She watched the video right through to the end, shaking her head when Morgan joined them on stage and started stealing the show, nothing but love for the lot of them in her eyes when she closed the video message once again and started to respond to the text that Hotch had sent.

Not gonna lie, quite surprised you didn’t join them all up there ;) – E.

And lose the last shred of my self-respect? Nah, I was too busy pretending I didn’t know the lot of them. – H.

You lost that shred the night you attended that costume party dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. You don’t make the best Johnny Depp. – E.

Rude. At least I didn’t dress up as Megara from Hercules. Although, have to admit that your acting was on point. – H.

It was, wasn’t it? – E.

You’re so humble, hold onto that. – H.

Taking the blanket from where it was folded up at the other end of the sofa, she laughed at his remark before setting her cup of coffee down on a coaster and opening the blanket so that she could cover herself with it while she relaxed again and made herself a bit more comfortable.

Miss you all so much. Been planning a trip out there for quite a while now, but something always seems to come up. – E.

No rush, we’ll all still be here when you can get away. How’s London? – H.

It’s great, but it still doesn’t feel like home. Everyone’s been so kind to me, but I just don’t feel as though I really trust them yet. – E.

You’ll get there, I know you will. You can do this. – H.

You think so? – E.

You’re Emily Prentiss. Your mother is Elizabeth Prentiss. You’re a force to be reckoned with, don’t you forget that. – H.

Thanks, Hotch. You know, I’d love to sit and talk a little longer, but it’s past midnight here and I have an early start tomorrow. – E.

Yeah, I get it. Go and get some sleep, we can talk another time. – H.

Okay. Night. – E.

Night. – H.

She turned her phone to sleep mode once the two of them had finished chatting and rose from the sofa, quickly downing the last of her coffee as she headed for the kitchen before she placed the mug in the sink and stroked her hair out of her face as she turned to her bedroom. She was unable to keep herself from smiling as she made her way over there and thought about that conversation with Hotch. He texted her a lot these days. In the beginning, it had been a short text every couple of weeks just to find out how she was getting on and ask if her team at Interpol were treating her right, but his texts were a lot more casual nowadays. The two of them texted every night when the chance to do so arose, him telling her things about the team and about Jack and her telling him about London and her life there, and she just adored that.

He reassured her all the time that she hadn’t been forgotten.

He let her know that Garcia still mentioned how much she missed her on a daily basis and Reid was still gutted that she had left, and that made her happy.

Not her friends being upset about her absence, of course, but knowing that they still loved her and the gap she had left hadn’t been filled yet.

Even though they were three thousand miles apart, they were still a family.

And she knew, deep in her heart, that no amount of time or distance would ever change that.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss cuteness #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #agent hotchner #agent prentiss #otp #criminal minds #prompt #texting #fanfiction #one shot

[merakiaes]

The Inevitable - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @dj-lowkey & anon. 

Prompts: #1, #21, #56 from the fluff-list. #23, #44 from the smut-list. 

Warnings/notes: Unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it kids. Poorly written smut ahead, so beware. The smut scene is pretty short and the rest isn’t my best work but I promise everything else I have coming will be much better. ✨Following a new system, I’ll post the next Criminal Minds fic when I’ve gotten some comments and interaction on this one, so please let me know what you think.✨ I hope you like it, sorry for the long wait and thank you for being patient <3 (Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. Requests and taglist are both open.)

Wordcount: 8553

Summary: After years’ worth of painful, mutual pining, the inevitable finally happens. 

Being in love with a married man was… inconvenient, to say the least. Not only for the person in love nor the person at the receiving end of said love, but also for the people surrounding both parts; more specifically the loved one’s partner.

You had seen what could become of such an ordeal more than once growing up, your own family having fallen apart because your dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and other families having fallen apart because your mom couldn’t respect other people’s marriages.

Although you guessed the latter of the two hadn’t been fully her fault, she had found herself playing the roles both of the home-wrecked, and that of the homewrecker herself, and while you in your younger years had thought the first option sounded worse, you had grown up to the realization that that wasn’t the case at all.

Becoming a homewrecker was probably the biggest no-no in your life. There was little you wouldn’t do to ensure your own happiness and content in life, but putting another’s happiness on the line in order to do so was a line you would never be willing to cross.

So falling in love with a married man was something you never, not ever in your entire lifetime, expected to know the feeling of. And yet here you were, head over heels in love with a married man, who also so happened to be your superior.

Aaron was a profiler, an experienced one, and he wasn’t stupid. He noticed the way you looked at him, the way you would always go an extra length to help him and make sure he was okay when things got tough, but also the way you would stay as far away from him as you possibly could whenever there wasn’t a direct need for the two of you to be close.

He knew you had feelings for him all the way from the start, having figured it out quite quickly, but you could obviously handle being professional and not acting on said feelings, so he never said anything.

Why would he? At the time, he didn’t see you as anything more than a friend, obviously as he was married and in love with his high school sweetheart, barely even knew you outside of work and had no reason to believe your attraction for him would get in the way of his life or work.

It wasn’t until after the divorce that the two of you started getting closer, when everyone noticed that he started staying behind late at the office, holed up in his office and passionately working on the paperwork that he was in no hurry whatsoever to complete.

After numerous confrontations from his fellow profilers and friends, he finally filled them in on what was happening; that Haley was filing for divorce, and after the divorce had been completed and he had moved out into his own apartment, you were the one to be there for him the most.

You made sure to remind him to take care of himself when he, clearly, wasn’t, you invited him over for dinner when you made it home from tough cases so that he wouldn’t have to cook for himself as you knew he already had a lot on his plate, always offered to take a load off his paperwork when you could, and always made sure he knew that he could come to you if he was struggling with, well, anything, really.

He was a divorcee and you felt a lot more comfortable personally interacting with him now that the risk of wrecking his marriage was out of the picture, but despite the fact that you were spending a lot more time with each other on personal time, getting to know each other and the fact that and your feelings remained, you never acted on your feelings.

Even so, you kept growing closer and both of you knew it. Eventually, you reached a point where neither of you quite knew what you were, but both of you knew for sure that you were more than just friends and coworkers.

As a result, he felt guilty. He was still committed and attached to Haley and felt like he was betraying her, and you felt guilty as well, immensely so, so you agreed to ignore the budding romance between you and remain no more than friends, without ever speaking a word about it out loud.

When Haley was killed you were, once again, left torn, as the inconvenient situation you found yourself in emotionally became all the more complicated; not only was he now a divorcee, but also a widower.

One part of you wanted to distance yourself even further from him, as you knew that the others knew of the feelings you harbored for him.

The thought of their disapproving reactions if you’d gotten together with a divorced man had been bad enough back when that matter on hand was still fresh. What would they think of you if you hurried to latch onto a man, a grieving man, who had just lost his wife, when they knew that you had been hoping for the right time to come around for years?

You didn’t even want to know, because you, of all people, knew how bad it would look. After all, your mother had set a pretty good example of it.

But the other part of you knew that he needed you, now more than ever, and in the end, this part was the one who won, as you couldn’t imagine leaving him to fend for himself when he was in dire need of the support you could offer him.

So you stood by his side, acted as the pillar off support that he needed, but now more than ever, you were determined to keep your romantic feelings for yourself, and careful not to slip in testing situations.

It was hard not to, with the way he always managed to get himself hurt in the field, sending you into a panicked spiral and weakening your heart, metaphorically speaking, every single one of those times, but you thought you were doing a pretty good job.

You thought.

Unbeknownst to you, the team all agreed that it was only a matter of time before you got together.

They had watched you interact and grow closer for almost two entire year before the death of Haley. They had known, even before Hotch himself had, that he was ready to move on, and even though the loss was sure to slow things down, they all knew there was no possibility for the two of you going back to being “just friends.”

They had called it, like they always did, and they got it proven in well time, as Hotch slowly began recovering from the loss and allowed himself to warm up to you again, just like he had after the divorce.

You would hug in the office when you thought no one was looking, whenever he was having a particularly rough day and you saw that he was in need of comfort, and it was all just so obvious.

You knew strangely private things about each other – habits and quirks, childhood memories, favourites, likes and dislikes; you even knew what kind of shampoo the other used so, to summarize, things literally no one else knew.

When you went to follow separate leads on cases, you were always the one he called for an update, never the person you were partnered up with, no matter who that may be. And that went both ways, you always calling him.

You “casually” hung out outside of work all the time, getting coffee, going out for dinner, riding in to work with each other, going for bike rides with and without Jack, and taking Jack out for other activities almost weekly, as well.

You babysat Jack all the time whenever him or Jessica weren’t available to do so, even more so now that Haley was gone, and he loved you, running straight into your arms whenever he came to visit the office.

When you for some reason hadn’t seen the youngest Hotchner in a long while, you always asked Hotch how he was doing with his mom, in school and just in general, if he was eating well, getting enough sleep, and if he was making any friends.

You never addressed each other by your last names, and he was never interested in other women, nor were you in other men.

When you had been on a case in Florida and had to interview people at a strip club, he was the only one who didn’t pay the working girls as much as a glance. Hell, even Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes to himself, but Hotch was only looking at you, throwing you glances where you stood at the other side of the room, completely oblivious to the way Rossi was watching his every move, and the way the corner of his lip would tug up ever so slightly.

You had both been like that since you first started connecting on a deeper level. When either of you were talking to someone, your eyes always trailed off to look at the other on the other side of the room, always having to make sure the other was alright. You were only ever fully committed to the conversation at hand if the other was either right beside you, or not there at all; in any other case, your attention was always compromised.

You were longing for physical contact, it was clear in the way you looked ateach other, way too long for claiming to be “just friends”, and obvious to everyone but you in the moments it would occur. 

Two of the best profilers in the country and yet, neither of you saw the way the other looked at you, or how your behavior could affect the other; more specifically how you affected him.

If he was ever hesitant about taking on a case, he gave in and agreed to put the team on it in less than a second if you sided with whoever as making the pitch and tried to push it, almost too easily, and he always turned to you for a second opinion if he finds himself doubting himself, and that was a kind of vulnerability he rarely showed to anyone else.

You had even built your own Friday night routine with each other, where you went over for dinner at his place and after that watched movies together with him and Jack until the latter fell asleep, something the team had only found out because they had caught you coming in to the office together after being called in for last-minute cases dressed in casual clothing with identical wine stains on your shirts.

You were a very physical person, that much had become clear when you first joined the team. While you liked giving out hugs left and right, even holding your friends’ hands as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he was not like that. He was the exact opposite.

And yet, whenever you would go over to Rossi’s house for dinner with the rest of the team and you were sitting close to each other, he did nothing to object when you threw your legs over his thighs, nor did he protest when you fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet.

Rather on the contrary, he instinctively held on to your calves, without ever breaking away from the conversation at hand, and absentmindedly leaned his head down to yours.

He would also let his hand linger on the small of your back whenever you walked next to each other, as if he didn’t even notice he was doing it in the first place, and he was completely unbothered whenever you would fuss over his appearance by reaching up to straighten his tie and the front of his suit, fix his hair when it was out of place or this one time when you licked your thumb to wipe away the ink on his cheek that had been transferred from his hand, on which Jack had drawn his best attempt of Spider-Man.

You got him to do things completely out of his comfort zone when you were out, both when it was just the two of you and when you went somewhere with the team, whether it be joining in on karaoke night or going up a rollercoaster.

You teased each other constantly when you thought no one was looking and out of the entire team, you were the one most likely to make him smile and crack a joke.

He was just different with you, always so emotionally complex and closed off, hard to read, stoic and guarded. But with you he was everything but those things, letting his walls fall down and showing a side to him that the people closest to him had only ever seen him sport around Haley before.

It was ridiculous, the two of you always acting as if you were telepathically connected, always looked at each other too long to be just friends, with brief, longing gazes accompanied by “accidental” hand touches. In the eyes of any outsider, it was like you were married.

Hotch cared for everyone on the team, but his care for you ran deeper, much deeper. He always let you easier off the hook when you went against protocol, but if said break of protocol ended up getting you into a life-threatening situation, he scolded you worse than he would any other member of the team, because he was terrified of losing you.

But neither of you did anything to act on the feelings you obviously had for each other, and for what? Because you worked together and it would be unprofessional? Problematic for the team? The team couldn’t quite figure it out and to be frank, neither could you. At this point, you were both just grasping at any excuse you could get to avoid the inevitable.

Because it was inevitable. Everyone around you knew it, and the team was so confident in your eventual get-together that they had placed bets on when, where and how you were finally going to confess, and that moment was closer than they would’ve imagined.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet today.” You spoke as you analyzed Hotch’s distant behavior from the other side of the table.

You had been watching him for the past few minutes, not having much else to do on the jet when everyone else was busy doing their own thing.

He was looking down into the file of the case you were just coming from. His eyebrows were furrowed with concentration but his eyes remained still and he never flipped the page, telling you that he wasn’t actually reading, and easily giving away the fact that something was bothering him.

At the sound of your voice and question, he slowly raised his head to look at you. He gave you a sullen, calculating look, his brows still creased together.

“I’m always quiet.” He replied, and you sadly smiled.

“More than usual.” You pointed out, and the two of you held each other’s eyes for a moment, before his hands slowly began closing the file in his hands.

He sighed. “Jack had his first tantrum this morning, and I don’t know if I handled it in the best way.”

“What happened?” You wasted no time in asking, leaning forward with your arms on your knees to get closer; as both of you always were in one way or another.

You watched as he turned his head to the side to look out into the darkness on the other side of the window, and then as he dragged is hands up and down his thighs once before turning back to meet your eyes.

“I wouldn’t let him have ice cream for breakfast and in return… he yelled at me that he hated me and threw his cereal on the floor, so I told him that he couldn’t play video games for the rest of the week, and he started crying, and locked himself into the bathroom.”

His voice was low, almost as if he were ashamed, and his eyes were swirling with guilt.

“I’ve never had to discipline him like that before. Being hard with criminals is one thing but he’s my son, and it felt wrong to punish him.”

“You did the right thing, and he’ll realize that when he gets older.” You offered him a comforting smile, and then let out a small laugh. “Just take it from someone who got away with everything throughout their childhood and ended up being the worst, most entitled bitch all through high school.”

At that, a small chuckle slipped past his lips, too, his previously furrowed eyebrows and stoic expression relaxing. “I’m having a hard time picturing you as a mean girl.” He replied, amusement now written all over his face.

“Oh, you have no idea. All of you would’ve hated me.” You laughed and shook your head. “I guess I was one of the lucky ones. Realized that my behavior was hurting others and changed for the better. I don’t think I would’ve ended up in this line of work if I hadn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” He smiled, and you did, as well.

“Me, too.”

Again, you held each other’s gazes in a moment of silence, before he looked away to look at his hand in his lap. His face once again fell into a concentrated frown.  

The sight brought a sigh from your lips; not an annoyed one, but rather one out of pity. You hated that he doubted his ability to raise Jack so often, when he was such a good dad. 

“You’re a good father, Aaron, and Jack will come around soon.” You told him, causing him to look back up. “Children don’t have the same capability to hold grudges as adults do. He’ll be mad at you for one day, tops, and then he’ll forget all about it and not even care about the video games. You shrugged and offered him another smile, and the corners of his lips once again turned up. 

“Thank you. I really needed to hear that, it means a lot.” He thanked you, looking down for a brief second before looking back up at you. “He’s been asking for you, you know.”

“Asking for me, or for my cupcakes?” You raised a humorous eyebrow, and he chuckled.

“Both.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to make him some on my next day off.” You promised, and he nodded.

“He’ll appreciate that.”

You grinned at him, and then you turned your head to the side to look out the window, figuring the conversation was done and wanting to leave him to rest as you still had well over an hour left of a flight.

But he didn’t seem to be done talking, the sound of your own name reaching your ears only a few seconds later.

“(Y/N).”

You turned your head back, once again meeting his brown eyes and raising your eyebrows. “Yeah?” You asked.

Lips pulled into a thin line, he watched you for a moment, scanning your face and taking in every little feature and detail.

“I hope you know-” He finally continued. “We could never hate you.”

He was referring to your earlier claim, you realized almost instantly. And just as quickly, your lips stretched into a large smile, your heart fluttering in your chest and your body turning warm.

Like always, while outwardly appearing to be minding their own business, the team had been listening in on the entire conversation and looked up from their respective choice of activity – whether that be a game of cards, a book, a case file, or nothing at all – at the sound of their superior’s words, exchanging knowing looks as all of them knew that “we”, in reality meant “I”.

They kept sneaking fond glances of the two of you as Hotch went back to the file and you went back to staring out the window, both of you clearly trying to suppress identical smiles judging by the way your lips were trembling.

It was only a matter of time now, they knew. They just wished that it had been under less fatal circumstances.

You guessed you shouldn’t have been surprised; with the line of work you were in, you were always in danger. But still, you didn’t think anyone would ever be fully prepared for the possibility of being shot in their own home, which was still exactly what had happened to you.

You had just made it back home after the long flight, still smiling to yourself as the thoughts and emptions of the “goodnight” you’d shared with Hotch before you parted ways was fresh on your mind and in your body.

Like you always did upon returning home, you turned off the sprinkler and grabbed the mail before heading up the path leading to the front steps and unlocked the door.

It was dark inside, just like you’d left it, and after you’d closed the door behind you, you didn’t get the time to reach for the light switch, much less defend yourself, before you were hit in the back of the head, a gunshot ringing through the air only seconds later.

Luckily, your attacker was a lousy shot, so you managed, although barely, to hold on to your life and miraculously pulled through without bleeding out for the four long hours it took before you were found by a bypassing neighbor who noticed your feet inside the now open front door.

It was one of the rare nights where you had gotten to go home rather than immediately being called in for another case the second the wheels of the jet hit the ground upon returning home, so the entire team had been asleep in their respective homes when they got the calls.

The only person who hadn’t been asleep was Rossi, so he had been the first one to pick up his phone and get to the hospital where you were rushed into surgery, being the one who had to greet the rest of the team as they arrived, still ridden by sleep, one by one.

Hotch had, despite your close relationship, been the last to arrive as he’d had to take Jack over to Jessica’s house, and by then, Rossi had filled everyone else in on your critical condition, and the uncertainty of your survival.

The entire team was in a mixture of shock and fear, some pacing the waiting room, gnawing on their nails and fingers, and others holding on to the armrests of their chairs for dear life while they bounced their legs with nerves and tried their best to keep it together.

For Hotch who was last to arrive to the scene, being greeted with this sight was everything but comforting, and for the first time since Haley’s passing, he broke character and broke down; in the way Hotch did, with an intense inner conflict of grief and blind, red, raging anger.

Rossi recognized the signs of his inner conflict the second he met his good friend’s gaze and moved him out into the hallway to brief him on the situation in private, being one of the few people who understood how bad it could get if he lost his temper.

And boy did he lose it, the two of them ending up having a heated discussion out in the hallway; one part being unable to stay calm, and the other desperately trying to discuss rationally.  

I think you can guess who played which part.

They waited and waited, for a long two hours, thirty-five minutes and eighteen seconds – yes, Spencer counted – before finally, the surgeon came out into the room in which they were all waiting to let them know that you were stable and going to be alright.

Once they knew you were going to live, they wasted no time in taking action and starting an investigation, everyone going back to the scene of crime while Penelope stayed and watched over you.

You kept having the weirdest dreams as you slept, and you weren’t able to tell dream and reality apart the times you woke up in all your drugged down glory. 

But luckily, you were indefinitely awake the next morning, being greeted first thing with an interrogation by Rossi and Emily.

The team kept coming in and out but didn’t tell you much about the investigation at hand, saying that it could wait until you were fully rested, but Hotch was nowhere in sight the first day, and much to your disappointment, he didn’t visit you any other day either.

But you understood; he was busy calculating a plan of how to track and take the unsub who had shot you down, and when you got back to the office and he wasn’t there either, Emily telling you that Jack had gotten sick and Hotch had taken a few days off, you knew he had even more on his plate.

If only you’d have known if there were more to it than that.

The last time you had unlocked and opened your front door, you had been greeted by a blow to the back of your head and a bullet in your side, so when you went back home after being released from the hospital, Penelope came home with you to unlock and open the door for you, completely on her own initiative.

Ever since, both her and the others had dropped by on several occasions to make sure you were okay, that you were taking care of the wounds properly, that you had food in your fridge and snacks in your pantry.

Some stayed longer than others, but one hadn’t shown up a single time; this also happening to be the person who never left your mind.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be upset over it though, again since you knew he was busy looking for your attacker all while taking care of a sick Jack, and also because your pain medications made you feel completely indifferent to everything and everyone around you, leaving only a dull ache of helplessness.

They were so strong that you couldn’t do much else than just stare into the screen of your TV all day long, and so strong that you didn’t even realize there was a knock at your front door as you laid in bed, staring into the ceiling.

It probably wasn’t very smart for you to stay by yourself in the very place you’d been attacked when you were in no state to defend yourself should it happen again, but you refused to stay at the office like the entire team had tried convincing you to.

You convinced the others you would be fine, that you weren’t scared. And you hadn’t been, not once, until the sound of floorboards creaking reached your ears, coming from the living room right outside your bedroom.

Your heart automatically picked up speed in your chest and your head whipped to the doorway at the sound. Instinctively you rushed out of bed, completely ignoring the pain that shot through your head and side at the sudden movements and opening the drawer of your bedside table to bring out your gun.

You pulled back the safety and held it up in front of you, barrel pointed at the doorway as the lights of the hallway outside flicked on.

Your breath shook and so did your hands, palms getting clammy with sweat. You waited anxiously for another few seconds, silently listening to the footsteps getting closer, and your heartbeat quickening even further as you caught the first sight of a shadow on the floor.

Hadn’t you been so heavily drugged, you would’ve pulled the trigger the second the form appeared in the doorway, but luckily you didn’t, getting the time you needed to realize it wasn’t an intruder and lowering the gun before any harm could be done.

“Jesus, Aaron. You scared me half to death.” You let out a breath as the man in question stepped into your room.

You turned back to your nightstand and hid the gun away where you’d found it after clicking the safety back into place, and Hotch watched you with slow, calculating moves.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t answer the door so I let myself in.” He replied simply, little to no emotion in his voice nor in his face when you turned back to look at him.

“It’s okay.” You assured him, moving your hand to your forehead when a sudden spell of dizziness hit you.

He wasted no time in walking around the bed to come to your aid at the sight, grabbing your hands in his and slowly and carefully helping you sit back down at the edge of the bed.

“Thank you.” You thanked him.

“Do you need your medication?” He asked, and you slowly shook your head, keeping your eyes closed and your head lowered as you rubbed your temple.

“No, I’m alright. Just stood up too quickly is all.” You let out a tired breath, taking another moment to collect yourself before looking up to meet his waiting gaze.

“Not that I mind, but what are you doing here this late? Don’t you have to watch over Jack? Is everything okay?”

You watched as his eyes darkened and his lips pulled into a straight line. “Jack is with his aunt. I came here because I needed to see that you were okay. I’m sorry I haven’t checked in earlier.”

His eyes were apologetic and guilt was evident on his face and in the way he held himself; stiff and curt. But you only faced him with a smile, like you always did.

“It’s fine. I know you’ve been busy.” You assured him, holding your smile for another moment before hesitantly continuing. “Do you have any leads?”

He stared at you, his eyes turning a shade darker as the matter at hand, the matter that had almost gotten you killed, was brought up. 

“JJ and Spencer are following one as we speak, but that conversation can wait until later. Right now, we need to talk. More specifically, I need to talk. I need to tell you something.”

Your smile faltered at his words and the seriousness behind them, being completely replaced by nervousness. “Okay.” Was the only response you could muster in return.

He was known to be a very serious man, but he never was with you, not in the way he was with everyone else, so the possibilities of what he wanted to say clouded your head, none of them good and definitely not even close to what you had coming. 

“When I got the call that you had been shot, I realized something. I realized that… when I’m with you, I feel like I’m home, in a way I haven’t felt since I was with Haley. And seeing you in a life-threatening situation like I did the night you were shot, constantly thinking of the possibility that we... That I might have lost you, made me feel lost, like I didn’t know where I belonged anymore.”

“Aaron-“

“Please, I’m not finished.” He interrupted you gently, and you slowly nodded, remaining quiet and allowing him to continue.

“There’s no use in wasting time so I’m just going to say it. I love you, and I think I’ve known that for a while now. I wasn’t planning on acting on it for the sake of our work situation but seeing you hurt, knowing you could’ve…” He paused and his face faltered. “I couldn’t keep quiet about my feelings any longer. I don’t expect you to reciprocate them, but I needed you to know because I would’ve regretted not telling you every day for the rest of my life if I lost you without letting you know how much you mean to me.”

All you could hear when he finished talking was your own heartbeat, thudding and pulsating through your entire body and all the way up to your ears. Your hands was yet again trembling and clamming up, but this time for an entirely different reason.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say those words.” You whispered, and his face hardened in expectation.

“Are you saying that you…”

“Yes. I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before, in any way.” You interrupted him, and bravely brought your hands up to his face. “I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I always have, and I want you in every way a person can want another.”

He raised his hands and placed them on top of yours where they were cradling his cheeks, and then the two of you met in the middle, your lips touching with a gentle brush to a start to test the unknown waters, but quickly pressing together with more force.

Your entire body was overcome with tingles and butterflies in a matter of seconds and as it drowned out the dreadful pain, both mental and physical, that you’d been feeling for the past few days, you immediately found yourself needing more; needing for it to never stop.

The kiss quickly deepened, Hotch’s hands leaving yours to move to your cheeks instead, and your hands moving from his face to wrap around the back of his neck, where you wasted no time in slipping your fingers into his hair.

You didn’t know what came over you.

You didn’t know if it was the fact that you were high on various pain medications, if it was the fear that you had suppressed the entire time since your shooting finally showing itself and ridding you of all logic and self-control, or if it was just the fact that you had been waiting for this moment for so long, but whatever it was, it made you desperate in a way you’d never been desperate before.

Not even a minute into the kiss, your hands moved from his neck, down his shoulders and to the front of his jacket, where you didn’t waste any time in beginning to push at the fabric in an attempt to get it off.

At this, Hotch broke away from the kiss, his breathing heavy and uneven, and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked into your eyes. “We shouldn’t, you’re not healed.” He said in protest, but his darkening eyes and the way he was slowly, absentmindedly moving his hands down from your face to the lower hem of your shirt didn’t quite agree with his voicing of disapproval.

“I’m healed enough.” You breathed back, pleadingly so. “Please, I just want to feel something else than this… this dull ache.”

There was obviously more psychological pain and trouble left behind by the incident than you’d let on to the team, he realized as he analyzed your face, and he could do nothing other than nod.

“Let me know if I hurt you, in any way.” He told you, staring into your eyes with a determination that let you know that he wouldn’t take it well if you didn’t do as told.  

As his forehead pressed against yours, you closed your eyes and nodded. “I promise I will, but you won’t.” You mumbled.

Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his eyes burning into your face for another few seconds, just analyzing you and the situation at hand, before he finally gave in and caught you in another kiss.

Again, the kiss escalated in a matter of mere seconds and before you knew it, you were slowly being lowered onto your back.

Your arms wrapped around his neck again and he kept one of his on your cheek, while the other held the small of your back to make sure you weren’t twisting your hurt side in any uncomfortable ways.

Once you were properly situated and he was balancing above you on his hands and elbows, you made another attempt at getting him out of his jacket and this time he didn’t protest, helping you by pulling his arms out and letting you throw the article of clothing to the floor.

His shirt wasn’t far behind after you’d blindly unbuttoned it, and you wasted no time in trailing your hands down his toned chest to his abdomen and stopping only when your fingers made contact of the hem of his pants where you undid the single button and pulled down the accompanying zipper.

“Are you sure?” He mumbled against your lips, and as an answer, you grabbed at the hem on either side of his hips and pulled down.

“Yes.”

Getting all the confirmation he needed, he helped you take off his pants and shook them off his legs and to the floor, before carefully beginning to help you out of your shirt.

Luckily, you were wearing a button-up too, making it easy to get it off as opposed to the struggle it would have been if you had been wearing a normal t-shirt, as you could barely lift your arms without risking the stitches in your side being ripped.

It was because of that very risk that he was still very hesitant in his movements, touching you with hands, fingers and kisses so light, as if you were made out of porcelain; and you guessed you kind of were in this moment.

But he showed no signs of wanting to stop, as an unreadable expression crossed over his face when he was first met with the sight of your bare upper body.

“You’re so beautiful.” He told you in a breath, his voice deeper than usual and his brown eyes darkening to the point where they looked pure black in the little light contributed by the lamp in your bedroom window.

He bent back down to your face after discarding you of your shorts and latched his lips back onto yours, your arms returning to wrap around his neck while he slowly brought his hand down the length of your body.

You hadn’t been kissing nor touching each other for more than a mere few minutes, but you’d be surprised at how quickly the human body could get ready for something it had been awaiting and yearning for, for such a long time - Hotch already hard in his briefs and you already slick with wetness as he dipped his finger between your folds.

A shaky breath left your lips as his finger brushed over the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you tugged at the hair at the back of his head when he eased a digit into your heat.

He knew exactly what to do, curling his finger and gently caressing the inner ceiling in search of your sweet spot. For experienced men, of which he was one, that wasn’t hard, and he quickly had you tensing up as the first moan slipped past your lips and your head fell back into the pillows underneath you. 

He easily slipped another finger in after stretching you out for another moment, your body relaxing and becoming more and more willing for him for every second that passed.

Once he found the rhythm that appeared to please you the most, he added his thumb to the equation, adding pressure on your clit and rubbing it with small circles.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest and you were unable to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure he was giving you, a shiver running down your spine when he leaned his head back down and began trailing kisses down your neck, shoulders and breasts.

He worked you with his fingers for a while, before he couldn’t take the sounds of your moans any longer and released himself from his boxers, lining himself up at your entrance.

Feeling a sense of loss and emptiness now that his fingers were gone, you wasted no time in raising your legs and wrapping them around him, pulling him against you and urging him to push inside which he, in turn, wasted no time in obeying to.

You held your breath as he entered you, stretching you out and reaching further than his fingers ever could. His head was buried in the crook between your neck and shoulder, heavy breaths coming out his nose and dampening your skin.

He began raising his head from your neck, and before he could either speak or look at you, you nodded your head.

“I’m alright.” You spoke, and at that he immediately locked his lips with yours and slowly began moving out, and then into you again.

You held the kiss for as long as you could, but as he soon quickened his pace and it became too much to keep track of at the same time, your head simply fell back into the pillows while his moved back to the curve of your neck, one of his hands holding the weight of his body and the other moving back and forth between your breasts and the sensitive bundle of nerves that was just begging for release.

And release came sooner than you thought for both of you, the two of you toppling over the edge as you reached your climaxes one after another.

It wasn’t the longest session either of you had partaken in throughout your lives but for now, it was enough. And either way, you knew that after this, other times would come, with better and less strained circumstances.

The throbbing pain in your side that you had been too distracted to notice when you had been caught up in the pleasure, returned all at once like a metaphorical slap to your face the second you came down from your high, so that Hotch had to help you back into your night shirt once you were cleaned up.

“Are you staying the night?” You asked softly, watching his concentrated face as he buttoned your shirt back up.

He glanced up at you at the sound of your words, giving you a hesitant look. “If you don’t want me to leave.”

Your head instantly shook and you brought your hands to his, stopping him from buttoning the last few buttons by stepping closer to him and moving his hands to your waist.

“No, stay.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to his bare shoulders.

He rubbed his thumbs over your hipbones and nodded, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, which you gladly returned.

Together, you moved back to the bed, flicking off the ceiling lamp on your way, that you had turned on when cleaning yourselves and each other up in the bathroom.

You got into bed and you instantly started getting situated to sleep in the position you always did, carefully so in order to not disturb your stitches, but Hotch didn’t seem to be able to settle down as easily as you.

“What are you doing?” You asked with a light chuckle, watching with amusement as he moved the pillows back and forth behind him.

He didn’t even look up at your question. “Trying to get comfortable. Your mattress is not the most-”

“Hey, don’t hate on the mattress.” You interrupted him, giving him a feign glare when he looked up to meet your eyes, before raising an amused eyebrow. “And stop stealing all of my pillows. I need them more than you do.” You joked, snatching one of them back and gently hitting his arm with it.

His concentrated, determined frown disappeared and was replaced with a fond smile, a small chuckle slipping past his lips. “Come here.” He said, giving up on the pillows and opening his arms.

You didn’t waste any time, slowly and carefully moving into his arms after placing your pillow where it would provide the most comfort and support for your head, and humming in contentment once you were successfully comfortable.

You were content for a minute, just laying in silence while Hotch’s thumb gently caressed your upper arm and your finger drew lazy circles on his still bare chest. 

For just a minute, every problem in the world was gone, just leaving the two of you, and peace.

And then the moment was ruined, ripped away from you and replaced with the ugly face of reality with a single beep of his phone.

He heaved a heavy sigh, his thumb stilling on your arm and remaining there for another moment, before he unwrapped his arm from around you and sat up on the edge of the bed, reaching for his pants that were now laid out on a chair within arm’s reach and bringing his phone out of the pocket.

“What is it?” You wasted no time in asking, clumsily pushing yourself up into a sitting position again while he read whatever message he had just gotten.

“Morgan.” He told you simply, his eyes scanning the screen once more before he locked the phone and put it back in the pocket. ”The old lead fell out but they found another.”

“A lead for-?”

“Yes.” He confirmed before you could ask. “We’re wheels up in an hour.”

“I’m coming with you.” You hurriedly began crawling out of bed, but you were instantly stopped, Hotch reaching out to catch your wrist and turning back to face you.

“You’re staying here.” He told you sternly, his role of your boss returning now that things were serious again. “And I need to take a shower before I go.”

“No, don’t go. Not yet.” You pleaded, sucking on the inside of your lip as your heartbeat increased in speed as the suppressed fear of being alone once again began resurfacing.

“I can’t show up to the jet like this.” He told you, and you nodded.

“Okay, so I’ll join you in the shower.”

“With your bandage?” He raised his eyebrows, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“It needs to be changed, anyway.” You shrugged.

“You’re not supposed to get it wet.”

“Fine, I’ll cover myself in plastic wrap.” You jokingly said, crawling closer to the edge on which he was sitting and grabbing a hold of his shoulders once you got close enough.

“You drive a hard bargain.” He chuckled, looking up at you where you stood above him on your knees.

You smiled, squeezing his hand when it slipped down from your wrist and into yours. “Yeah? You think I should go for becoming a prosecutor?” You mused in a mumble, moving your hands up to his jaw and leaning in closer.

He welcomed the proximity with no protest, his gentle smile reaching all the way to his eyes. “No. You’re too nice.” He pointed out in a mumble, and softly pressed his lips to yours.

“No matter how much I’d love it if you joined me in the shower, you need to let the stitches heal. You’ve already challenged them enough as it is.” He mumbled into the kiss, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t want you to go.” You whispered back. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He kissed you again, before pulling away and bringing a hand to your face. “I’ll call Garcia and have her come over and keep you company.” He said, and you shook your head.

“No, you need her help from the office.”

“She can bring the gear she needs. I’m not leaving you here alone.” He pushed. “I promise we’ll talk more when I get back.”

You sighed but couldn’t hold back the mischievous grin rising to your lips. “Can we do this again, too?” You asked, and watched as his smile took a boyish turn.

“Is that a trick question?”

Your smile widened. “No, but I just got my answer.” You replied, and leaned in and pressed your lips to his a final time, holding the kiss longer this time, until another beep from his phone forced you to pull away.

You fell back onto the bed and he stood up, beginning to collect his clothes and heading for the open bathroom door the next second.

You watched him enter the dark room and flick on the light, and as he then put his clothes down on top of the closed laundry hamper. Without looking out, he reached for the door and began closing it.

Before he could, however, you called out from the bed. “Hey, Hotchner.”

He turned to look at you at the sound of his name falling from your lips, your eyes meeting.

“Tell me again before you go, will you?” You asked simply.

He stared at you for a moment, face completely overtaken by exhaustion just like yours was, before the corner of his lip tugged up ever so lightly.

���I love you.” He said, and you smiled, hugging the pillow under your head closer.

“I love you, too.”

You exchanged one last look, one last smile, before he slowly closed the door, breaking your line of sight from each other.

A minute later, you heard the shower being turned on, and you closed your eyes as a sudden wave of tiredness overcame you.

By the time Hotch got out of the shower and came back out, dressed and ready to leave, you were fast asleep. So he left you with no more than a soft kiss to the top of your head, not wanting to wake you up just to say goodbye, and called Garcia the second he was out the door.

You slept soundly for the next half hour, before being awoken by the overly energetic woman in question barging into your bedroom with bags, and bags and bags of technical equipment that you didn’t even begin to know how to work, complaining about Kevin having brought her the wrong brand of ice cream.

It wasn’t until she noticed Hotch’s signature red tie at her feet on the floor that she quietened down, looking up and taking note of your messy hair and even messier sheets where you were forcing yourself awake in bed.

You felt sorry for your neighbors for the deafeningly loud scream that followed her moment of realization, but you felt even more sorry for yourself, as you had to spend the rest of the night listening to her rambling your ears off about her winning the bet and the others owing her a fuck-ton of cash, and her demanding every, dirty little detail, which you had no choice but to give up. 

As for the rest of the team, they could do nothing but silently stare when Hotch arrived at the airport with wet, messy hair, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie nowhere in sight. 

They had their suspicions just from the mere sight of him, but when he passed them to get to his seat on the jet, leaving a gust of air behind in which all they could smell was the scent of your shampoo, they knew for sure, that the inevitable had finally happened.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @rousethemouse​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @sgold​ @fanficscuziranout​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @lovelynervouskingdom​ @thesassmisstress​ @witchcraftandwit​

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #hotchner #hotchner imagine #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

[reidandweep]

Dinosaurs and Sharks

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Im going to be doing a couple of imagines on some subjects that I relate to specifically. This is the first one, so I hope you enjoy. Also I made up a lot of the American stuff. So sorry if it isn’t accurate as I am from Britain.

Word Count- 4567 words

Warning- Fluff, Angst, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks.

‘Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.’ - Arthur Somers Roche.

Everyone remembers their first. First kiss. First love. First heartbreak. First time they watched their favourite film or read their favourite book. One first is always clearer than the rest. Every detail so vivid in a person’s mind. For Y/N, it was her first panic attack.

She remembered the feeling of not being able to breath as her lungs constricted around nothing. The gasping for air as her hands began to shake. She was alone and did not know what was happening. Y/N thought she was dying. That this is what death felt like. It took her approximately 38 minutes to calm down her breathing; her face a canvas of dried tears and her hands aching from their clenched position.

As life continued, Y/N found that these moments would happen often. Anything could trigger a panic attack. She had them over miniscule things like using the wrong coloured pen for her notes. But also, over dramatic events in her life, like being employed at the BAU.

It had always been her aspiration to work for the FBI. Y/N would not let anything get in her way of achieving what she had worked so hard for. Choosing not to disclose information about her anxiety to the team, Y/N had successfully kept her anxiety under control at work. Stepping out when she felt overwhelmed, doing her set routine to help slow down her breathing and her heart rate. No anxiety or panic attacks had occurred at work. Until one late Thursday evening, whilst trying to solve a case, it seemed like there was no way out of the oncoming wave that was about to crash over her.

YN sat at her desk, re-reading over the case for what felt like the hundredth time. They had been in Atlanta, Georgia for three days with no luck. Two more lives had been lost, and if they didn’t work fast enough, another would soon be too.

Y/N was alone in the office in which the team had been situated into for the time being. She had volunteered to look over the victimology once more as Rossi and JJ spoke to the families of the two newest victims, and Emily and Morgan went to the second crime scene as Hotch and Spencer surveyed the third.

Cracking her back as she stretched from her crouched position, Y/N looked at the clock on the wall. The team would be back soon, and she could not see anything new. She had to keep looking. As she delved deeper and deeper into the words before her, her eyes glanced between the pages of the file and the clock, Y/N felt the creeping tension in her chest.

“I haven’t got the time for this.”

Y/N banged her fist on the desk as her chest got increasingly tighter. Looking down at her fist, she saw that it was shaking.

As her other hand moved to her chest, Y/N stood up from her chair and paced across the room.

“Not now. Anytime but now!”

Y/N tried to take deep breathes to ease the panic that she felt. She couldn’t help but to glance at the clock. She couldn’t risk the team seeing her like this. Grabbing the file, Y/N dashed out of the room, looking for somewhere where she could calm herself down.

Seeing an open door ahead, Y/N looked inside the room to survey its contents. Noticing no one inside, she quickly shut the door behind her, dropping the file on the table as she continued to pace the room.

“Breathe, Y/N. Breathe.”

She tried. Y/N tried so hard to regulate her breathes but her chest continued to rise and fall at an increasing rate.

The feeling was overwhelming. She hated that she could never control it. No matter how much she tried. The exercises never worked. Her therapist’s advice was useless. She would have to stay in the room until she calmed down; however long it took.

Sliding down against the wall, Y/N threaded her shaking hands through her hair, pulling on the strands as tears flooded from her eyes. Her cries were quiet, but to her they sounded so loud that they echoed in her mind.

As the team walked back into the precinct, they discussed the evidence in which they found from each scene and interview conducted.

“Both parents of the most recent victims state that their daughters did not know each other. They were all from different areas and attended separate universities.”

Emily nodded at Rossi as they continued to walk towards their allocated room.

“The crime scenes both showed signs of a struggle and personal items were missing from both the bedrooms. This time it was a pompom and a baton.”

The team took in Hotch’s words. Emily walked to the door; hand situated over the door handle.

“Were the girls on any cheerleading teams?”

JJ shook her head at Morgan’s question.

“Well let’s just hope that Y/N’s found something that we’ve missed.”

As the door opened, the team looked in confusion to see Y/N nowhere in sight.

“Maybe she went to get a drink. We were gone for a while.”

The team headed into the room, situating themselves across the threshold as they continued to discuss the new evidence. Spencer lingered at the door.

Something felt off. Spencer noticed that Y/N file was nowhere in sight and that her phone was left on the table. She was never without her phone.

“Guys, I’ll be back in a second. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

The team all acknowledged Spencer’s words in their own way; too engrossed in the case to notice Spencer’s perplexed look.

Spencer walked down the hall as he thought of where Y/N could be.  As he turned the corner, Spencer immediately noticed the picture on the floor; in the middle of the empty hallway. Walking towards the picture, Spencer crouched down to survey its contents. He recognised it as a piece from the victimology report.

Looking down the corridor, he saw multiple more pictures on the ground. Spencer continued to follow their path, picking them up as he passed each one. He soon came to an end when no more pictures were strewn on the carpet.

Beginning to worry, Spencer wondered where Y/N could be. Just as he was about to head back to tell the team, a muffled sound could be heard.

Spencer stared at the door in front of him. It was labelled ‘Interrogation Room 4’. Spencer knew that no one had been brought in for interrogation so far, therefore, the room should be vacant.

Carefully, Spencer moved his hand to grasp the door handle. Opening the door, Spencer quietly walked inside. As he shut the door behind him, Spencer instantly recognised Y/N on the other side of the glass.

His heart broke at the sight of her. Unable to stand by for even a second, Spencer opened the door adjoining the hidden area to the interrogation room.

Y/N jumped from the sound of the opening door. Looking in the direction of the noise, her breathing elevated as she saw who had opened it.

She could not bear for anyone to see her in this way. The team had seen her as anything but strong. She had never cried on a case. Or thrown up or fainted at the sights they had seen. She was able to control the overwhelming feeling that enveloped her until she was alone.

“Y/N…”

“S-Spen-ce, ple-a-ase le-le-leave.”

Y/N struggled to speak as she gasped for air. Her throat dried from her cries and her face wet from the constant tears.

For a miniscule of a second, Spencer contemplates doing as she asked; until he truly looks at her. He had noticed signs of Y/N being anxious in the past, but he had written it down as nerves from being new to the team. He would have never guessed anxiety disorder or panic attacks due to her confidence and lack of breakdowns on the field. They had all cried or walked away from bodies during their first few months; even Hotch had. All except Y/N. Spencer moved to stand in front of Y/N. Crouching down, he reached for her hands in her hair.

Y/N couldn’t help the confusion that showed on her face as she allowed Spencer to grab her hands from her hair and hold them in his own grasp. Spencer hated touching hands. He hated germs. In her short time at the BAU, her hands had never touched his once.

Spencer locked his gaze with Y/N as he began to speak.

“Y/N, is It okay if I help?”

Y/N slowly nodded her head at his question. He had already seen her hyperventilating. She may as well take his help.

Spencer stroked the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“First, can you look at five things in the room and describe them for me?”

Y/N’s hand shook in Spencer’s as her eyes darted around the room as she tried to focus on five objects. There weren’t enough things in the room. Spencer noticed her increasing distress.

Squeezing her hands, Spencer pulled her focus back to him.

“it’s alright. Let’s try this instead. Describe five things about me. Anything you want.”

Y/N’s eyes travelled across Spencer. First, she locked onto his hair.

“Your hair is short-er-er than it was la-las-st week. You’ve had it cut. I Li-ik-ike it.”

Spencer blushed at her compliment; nodding his head at her to continue.

Y/N could already feel her breathing relax. Her hands still shaking as the sweat on her brow and neck continued to cool her burning skin.

“You’re wearing your favour-our-rite tie. You always wear it on days th-th-at you want to be better. You’ve worn it twice since we’ve be-ee-en here.”

Spencer was shocked at how observant she was with him. Of course, she was observant, she was a profiler, but he never thought it would be in his direction.

“You have one purple sock with dinosaurs on and one blue sock with sharks on. Purples my favourite colour and sharks are my favourite animal too, how weird.”

Spencer noticed that Y/N know longer stumbled over her words, her breathing was evening out and she even smiled when she looked at his socks.

“My favourite colour is purple too. I prefer Saurapods specifically in reference to dinosaurs. Sauropods evolved to walk on four legs and typically grew to enormous sizes. They were herbivores and consisted of dinosaurs such as…”

“Brontosaurus, Brachiosaurus, and Diplodocus.”

Spencer was finding out more and more about Y/N in this single moment than he had in her whole time with the team so far. He determined it down to her walls being lowered due to her panic attack.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

Y/N couldn’t help a smile grow on her face from the look that Spencer was giving her. Her hands began to shake less as she held his gaze. Unconsciously, matching her breathes to his deeper ones. She was calming down without even realising.

“Two more things.”

Y/N licked her lips; ridding the dryness as she scanned Spencer to describe another detail.

Spencer tried to ignore the gesture, but he could now feel his own hands begin to sweat in her grasp. He shook his head. He was helping her. He had to focus.

“You look like you can play piano. You have the hands for it. They’re large and smooth. A lot bigger than my little hands.”

Spencer chuckled at her words.

“I actually don’t play piano. I wanted to join the band in high school, but I was already picked on for being so young, I didn’t want them to have something else to use against me.”

Y/N squeezed Spencer’s hand.

“I wasn’t in band, but I was the school mascot throughout high school. I got teased relentlessly for it because of what our mascot was.”

“What was it?”

“A pig.”

Spencer looked at Y/N perplexed. Y/N rolled her eyes at his obliviousness. “The boys on the football team would often make fun of my weight. It crippled me for some years, especially because I had to travel with the cheerleaders, who were a lot skinnier than me. I had to be there at all their competitions to show school spirit. Our school would even give me things to help amp up the crowd.”

Spencer grasped Y/N’s hands tighter.

“Like pomspoms?

“Yeah, and megaphones. When the band played, they gave me a baton to twirl and throw in the air.”

Y/N saw the look on Spencer’s face. She knew instantly why he looked so shocked.

“We found items missing from the two newest victims’ rooms. One was a pompom and the other a baton?”

“Did the baton have a specific symbol on the stick?”

Spencer nodded his head.

“The parent’s said it was blue and white with a manatee on the bottom.”

Y/N rushed to her feet pulling Spencer up with her. Dragging him out the door, Spencer ran to keep in toe with Y/N as she explained to him her thoughts.

The team looked on stunned as Y/N and Spencer came bursting through the door; their hands interlocked, and Y/N’s face adorned with tracks of dried tears.

Before they could question what was going on, Y/N began to talk.

“All three of the victims were mascots for their university teams.”

Morgan shook his head.

“The parent’s said that none of their children were part of the cheer team.”

Y/N began to wave her arms as she spoke, unaware of her hand still grasped in Spencer’s as it moved alongside her own as she spoke.

“Being a mascot does not connect you solely to the cheerleading squad. You represent all teams at the school; basketball, baseball, soccer, football etc. Every year, the mascots go with the teams to their state events. It’s like a sports decathlon kind of event where each universities sports team face other universities. Even the mascots compete against one another’s.”

Hotch looked at Y/N inquisitively.

“And how do we know our victims attended this event?”

Y/N looked towards Spencer to answer.

Spencer cleared his throat as he was aware of the flickering gazes between Y/N and Spencer’s interlocked hands and Y/N tear stained face.

“The items taken from the girls’ bedrooms are all ritual items for the Spirit Games. It’s a superstition that if these items are not in the holder’s possession during the games, that they cannot win. Y/N recognised the logo on the baton. The manatee belongs to the State College of Florida. They have been an exception into the games, even though they didn’t qualify the past few years. That was the stick taken out of Alison Cable’s room. Alison attended University of Colorado; whose mascot is Milo the Lynx. Alison would only have the baton with her team mascot on; unless she took another teams.”

Rossi faced Y/N.

“What are the other items that are need for the ritual?”

“So, there’s the baton for band, pompom for cheer, captains arm band for soccer, mouthguard from the quarterback for football, and sweatband from point guard for basketball. If one is taken, then it’s considered bad luck for all the teams of that university.”

JJ turned towards Hotch.

“The pompom that Melissa Druid’s mother described was dark blue. Melissa attended the University of Georgia. Their colour is red.”

Prentiss agreed.

Hotch looked at Y/N.

“Are you positive about this?”

Y/N began to doubt herself. Worrying that she might have overthought it all. Her breathing picked up once again until Spencer squeezed her hand. With his empty hand, he pointed at his hair, then fiddled with his tie, then pulled up his trouser leg to show his unmatched socks. He was helping Y/N stay grounded.

Y/N looked at Spencer in wonder; all she could think at that moment was how special Spencer Reid truly was. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and out, calming herself down.

As she opened her eyes, she locked them onto Hotch’s.

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hotch nodded his head in approval.

“Morgan and Prentiss, I need you to go back to the first victims’ home. Re-assess the room and ask if either a mouth guard, sweatband, or arm band has gone missing. Question the parents about the Spirit Games. Rossi and JJ, I need you to look into the alumni on the board of the Spirit Games. Get Garcia to do checks on all potential members who had gone to the State College of Florida; correlate it to our profile. Reid, you’re coming with me. We’re going to the State College of Florida. Y/N may I have a brief word?”

Y/N looked towards Spencer. She knew that Hotch would want to speak to her. There was no way he would ignore her bursting into the room, not only holding onto Spencer for dear life, but also looking as dishevelled as she did.

Letting go of Spencer’s hand, she turned to follow Hotch out of the door. As they stood in the hallway, Y/N couldn’t stay quiet with the anxiety pushing her thoughts out of her mouth.

“Hotch, I know it doesn’t look the best, but I promise that Spencer and I were not fraternising.”

She couldn’t handle the blank stare that Hotch aimed towards her, so she continued to talk.

“When I got the position on the team, I made sure my anxiety was under control. I went to therapy. I learnt techniques and I took steps away when I felt overwhelmed. I made sure not to overwork myself. It was going fine. But this case made it feel like we were getting nowhere. I didn’t want you all coming back to find out I had found nothing new. I began to get anxious and I fled the room before you came in. Spencer found me in one of the interrogation rooms. He helped calm me down from my panic attack. I promise you, that’s all that happened. I will keep it under control.”

Hotch waited for Y/N to finish talking, allowing her to take some breathes.

“We all have things we want to keep to ourselves from the team. Privacy is hard to have in this line of work. I didn’t tell anyone about Hailey and I separating until months after. But something like anxiety needs to be told. We can help you Y/N, you’ve seen that yourself today.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“Coping with anxiety and panic attacks do not make you inept to be a part of this team. Each one of us deal with something that make us believe that were a hinderance. But it’s not and it will never be. So, I know it’s hard, but stop worrying about how the team view you. Your part of the family now and if that means having to take a step away or flagging someone over to help calm a panic attack then by all means do it. But I can say that it seems like the best person helped you today.”

Y/N blushed at Hotch’s words, noticing the ghost of a smile on the man’s face.

“Now go to the room and take a rest. When you feel up to it, join Rossi and JJ with contacting Penelope when looking into the alumni and Spirit Games board. You’ve been a massive help so far, don’t think otherwise.”

Hotch squeezed Y/N’s shoulder as he walked past her to re-enter the room.

She watched as each member filed out to go to their assigned task. Her eyes caught Spencer’s as he left the room. Just as he began to walk towards her, Hotch called Spencer over; insisting that they left straight away.

Y/N mouthed bye to Spencer as he waved back. Their gaze not breaking until he walked out of the precinct.

Heading back into the room, Y/N notice Rossi and JJ in discussion.

“Hey guys, is it alright if I take a quick nap? It’ll only be 10 minutes at most.”

Rossi and JJ smiled towards Y/N. The team having been debriefed slightly by Hotch about what had occurred. She didn’t mind. Like Hotch said, they were family and they were there to help.

Rossi opened his arms as he beckoned Y/N into his embrace. She followed his orders and wrapped her arms around her superior. She smiled as JJ rubbed her arms and leaned her head on hers in comfort.

“Take all the time you need Sleeping Beauty; we will be right here.”

Y/N chuckled at Rossi’s nickname for her.

Releasing herself from the hold, she thanked her two friends as she laid down on the sofa. Shifting to become comfortable, her eyes instantly rolled shut from the fatigue of the emotions that had flooded from her body in the past 45 minutes. It didn’t take long until she was deep in the world of sleep.

Rustling and conversation could be heard as Y/N slipped back into conscious. Her eyes still heavy as she refused to open them for a little longer. She could hear the voices of the team around her.

“Is everything packed and ready to go?”

“Looks like it, just got to wake Sleeping Beauty up and we can head to the jet. What don’t you give her true loves kiss, Prince Charming?”

“Actually, Prince Charming is in affiliation to the story of Cinderella. You mean to refer to Prince Philip from the Disney production. In Sleeping Beauty’s original story, the “hero” is a king who meets a beautiful sleeping princess and decides to rape and impregnate her while she’s sleeping. So, I think I will just awaken her as one usually would.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at Spencer’s rebuttal to Morgan.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you need to Pretty Boy, because Sleeping Beauty is awake.”

Y/N opened her eyes as she rubbed them excessively to clear her vision. She saw Spencer sat on the edge of the couch, his satchel at his feet. Looking around the room, she noticed all the team’s stuff packed; her bag and coat neatly laid on the table. The only people in the room was her, Spencer and Morgan.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“4 hours, 2 minutes, and 36 seconds from when JJ text us that you had fallen asleep.”

Y/N groaned at the clarification that she had slept so long. By the lucks of the packed-up items, the team had found the unsub.

“I can’t believe I slept through everything. Someone should have awoken me.”

Derek chuckled as he threw his back over his shoulder, grabbing the last two boxes in the room.

“We were going to but Prince Phillip over here went into a ramble about the importance of sleep in relation to dealing with anxiety and stress. Just following the doctor’s orders. Even Hotch was afraid to go against his wishes. We’re leaving in five, so I’ll meet you both downstairs.”

Derek left the room, leaving Y/N and Spencer sitting in baited silence.

Neither knew what to say. They had crossed over into a territory of friendship that neither were expecting. Feelings that weren’t apparent before was now clear to themselves. Y/N had always found Spencer fascinating. Spencer was usually weary of new team members, but he had warmed to Y/N very quickly. He wouldn’t have touched her hands if he hadn’t.

“We better not leave them waiting any longer, or else they’ll think I’ve fallen to sleep again.”

Spencer chuckled at Y/N, following her actions as she grabbed her bag. He walked to the door, waiting for her as she put on her coat. Holding the door open, Spencer gestured for Y/N to leave first, the woman thanking him as he turned off the light behind her.

Luckily, the police station was close to the hanger. As Y/N and Spencer joined the team outside, it took them not even 10 minutes to arrive by car.

As the team boarded the jet, idle conversation flowed between the group. Talks of weekend plans and food that would be ordered when people arrived home.

Y/N stood from her seat by Emily and across from Spencer and Morgan.

“No one look at my cards. I’m going to make a coffee, does anyone want one?”

There was a chorus of no from the group as she walked to make her drink.

Pouring the liquid into her cup, Y/N’s chest suddenly felt tight. Her hands beginning to shake; spilling the hot liquid on her hand. Hissing at the pain, she went into the bathroom to put her hand under cold water. As the pain. In her hand subsided, the one in her chest rose again. She could feel another panic attack happening. The only thought she had was to get to Spencer.

Opening the bathroom door, she felt relief as she noticed that Spencer now sat alone on the sofa, flickering through some paperwork that they would more than likely complete once they got back to Quantico.

Not even thinking, Y/N headed straight for Spencer, startling him as she plopped down beside him.

Y/N took deep breathes, once again matching them with Spencer’s.

Spencer glanced at Y/N as he recognised what she was doing. Not wanting to cause a scene with the team which could elevate Y/N’s anxiety Spencer nonchalantly linked his left hand with Y/N’s right one. Repeating the actions, he had done so in the interrogation room.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur?”

Y/N looked over at Spencer as he asked the question. She watched as he put down the file; giving her his undivided attention. Her eye’s flashed down to his socks as she relayed his question in her head.

“My favourite dinosaur is the Apatosaurus. But my favourite prehistoric creature is the Carcharocles Megalodon.”

Spencer couldn’t help but beam at Y/N’s answer.

“Did you know that even though megalodons and dinosaurs are both extinct, they never coexisted. The dinosaurs died out about 66 million years ago. Megalodons came later. The oldest megalodon fossils are from the Miocene Epoch, which began 23 million years ago.”

Y/N felt the pain in her chest ease as she turned to face Spencer, her hands unconsciously moving to fiddle with the one in his grasp. Spencer tried to keep the colour of his cheeks down as he felt her play with his fingers.

“It makes sense.”

Spencer looked at her in confusion.

“Why?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she answered.

“Because Megalodons would have ruled during the dinosaur’s existence. The minute they go near the water, bam, Megalodon has its dinner.”

Falling deeper into their conversation, Y/N and Spencer were blissfully unaware of the attention from the team they were receiving.

“They seem to be enjoying each other’s company.”

The team chuckled at JJ’s remark.

“Look closely folks because we’re going to be telling this story at their wedding one day.”

The team looked on, watching as the two profilers interacted.

They may not have known Y/N long, but they had all known Spencer long enough to know that what they were seeing was the beginning of something incredibly special.

‘There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.’- Sarah Dessen.

A/N- I will be looking into other subjects in my next imagines so I hope you enjoy. The way I’ve portrayed anxiety and panic attacks is how I have experienced them in ways. I haven’t gone into depths how truly bad I have dealt with them because I’m writing it for the character. So I understand please understand if it doesn’t reflect how you may deal or know someone who deals with anxiety and panic attacks experience it. X

Tagged list- @danielleslegacy​

#spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader

[libraryofloveletters]

What Could Have Been

Derek Morgan x Penelope Garica 

Warnings: mentions of getting shot, church and Morgan’s favourite line “son of a bitch” 

Category: Angst, so much fricking angst. Fluff at the end.

Word Count: 3.7k 

Author’s Note: For the purpose of this, Derek never married savannah but still left the BAU after the kidnapping and garvez didn’t happen :) also I used the scenes from the episodes below, most of them are quoted but not exactly word for word. (shout out to haley and to whoever she got this gif from <3) 

Song: The Night We Met

Italics are flashbacks. 

FB 1= 8x09 “Magnificent Light”

FB 2= 3x09 “Penelope”

FB 3= 3x09 “Penelope”, 4x01 ‘”Mayhem” & 5x21 “Exit Wounds” 

----- 

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

The clock just struck 12, everyone had arrived back at the BAU after a case in Delaware. The team sat in the bullpen, their heads perked up when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. 

Derek. 

He stepped off the elevator with a smile on his face, the glass doors ruined his image of a surprise but what the hell, he missed them too much to even care. Derek pulled the door open, the familiar smell of coffee and paper files filled his nose. 

“Derek ?” Spencer stood up from his chair. 

“Pretty boy” Derek smiled making his way over to give him a hug. Spencer smiled as his face was pulled into Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek turned to Emily next, “princess” he grinned, “hey you” she hugged him. 

JJ was next, her arms wrapped around his neck as she stood on her tiptoes to give him a proper hug. 

He went on to hug Tara and Rossi, and greeted Luke and Matt as they made their way into the BAU. 

Derek chatted with the team, they told him about the kidnapping case they had just worked but he couldn't seem to focus on their conversations as his mind kept wandering back to her. 

Where is she? 

One by one, the office cleared out. Matt and JJ being the firsts as they wanted to get home to their kids, Luke was next one and on his way to pick up Roxy. Tara and Rossi left shortly after the first 3, leaving Derek, Emily and Spencer sitting in the bullpen, just like old times. 

“Okay, I've been here for..” Derek glances at the clock, “27 minutes and I’ve yet to see my baby girl. Did she leave early?” Derek asked them, Emily and Spencer glanced at each other before turning back to Derek. 

“Derek, she-” Emily started but Derek cut her off. “I think I'll go surprise her” He headed out of the bullpen before either of them could say anything to him. 

“Did she really not tell him ?” Spencer looks at her,

“She didn’t want him to come and beg her to stay” Emily says quietly. Spencer gets up and walks out to find Derek, he sees Derek just as he opens the second door to her office.

“Baby gir-” Derek stops in his tracks. The office only had the lights on but all the monitors were off and all her stuff was gone. The chair was pushed in, there was dust starting to settle on the desk and monitors. 

Where is she? Where’s all her stuff ? God, did something happen to her? I should have never left. 

Spencer’s voice broke through Derek’s thoughts. “She left” Spencer whispered, leaning against the door frame. Derek didn't say anything, he stood there quietly, in the middle of her office, an empty office, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

“When ?” Derek’s fingers dragged across the desk where her key board should be. 

“February” Spencer told him. 

“She didn’t tell me” Derek mumbled. 

Derek didn't know how to feel. 

His heart pounding in his chest. 

“Can I have a minute alone ?” Derek glances at Spencer before turning back to the turned off monitor. 

“Of course. Emily and I will be in the bullpen if you need us” Spencer pulled the door shut as he left Derek in the office. 

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

There’s no way she left. This had to be some practical joke. Maybe Penelope hacked the flight records, saw he was coming to Virginia and wanted to mess with him. 

Derek pulled the chair out and sat down. His heart sunk in his chest, his hand ran across the desk again, his fingers making marks in the dust. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she had left. 

Sure, he knew she would have eventually moved on, she’s talented and smart and beautiful. 

My god, how she was beautiful. 

But never did he ever think the day would come where she would actually leave the BAU. 

This was her home, they were her family. 

Derek had never seen the office this empty. There were always trinkets, sparkly fluffy pens and mugs, so many mugs, more than you could count. 

The room felt heavy though it was empty. 

His hand reached into the desk drawer to his left, it was empty. Not like he was expecting anything to be there but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to check. Derek leaned back in the chair as his foot tapped against the desk, something rattled.

His eyes flickered down to the other drawer as his foot tapped the desk again. Derek pulled the drawer open, there was some paper in it. He picked them up and flipped through them, it was mostly computer manuals and old case files. Under all of that, there was a picture frame. 

It was a simple black picture frame, which was a bit plain for Penelope’s taste but the photo brought a smile to his face. It was a picture from the night of the police gala, they were already running late but she insisted that they take a picture before heading inside. 

“Derek! Don’t be difficult, we’re already late. It doesn't make a difference” she tried to reason with him. “Baby girl, they're waiting on me” Derek looked at her, already on his way to the door. Derek was stubborn but if he had a soft spot, and one she knew he had for sure, it was her. 

“Derek Morgan if you don't get your butt over here right now, so help me god because I will leave you here all by yourself” she mustered up the most stern look she could manage and looked at him. Derek chuckled and shook his head, jogging back down the stairs to his beloved Penelope. 

He’d go to the ends of the earth and back for this woman. 

“Excuse me!” Penelope turned to the man at the valet, “could you take a picture for us?” she fished the camera out of her wristlet, Derek smiled at her. 

“Mama, why don't you use your phone? you’re always carrying around this camera” 

“I like my camera, it holds pictures from forever ago. When we were all young and happy” she wrapped her arm around his waist, Derek put his arm around her shoulder and her other hand came up to reach his, their fingers interlocking. 

“Are we not happy now?” he looked down at her. 

Even with heels on, Derek still towered over Penelope. She looked up at her chocolate thunder and smiled, 

“I'm always happy when I'm with you.” 

The two of them stood there, smiling at each other, they had forgotten all about the picture until the camera flashed. The man from the valet spoke up “would you like one more? maybe looking at the camera this time ?” They turned towards the camera with the brightest smiles on their face. 

Derek’s finger ran across the glass of the frame. She didn’t use the picture of them looking at the camera, but the one of them looking at each other. Her words flooding his mind once again, 

“I’m always happy when I'm with you.”

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Derek was tempted to call her, to ask her why she hadn’t told him that she was leaving the BAU. He would have come and helped her pack, made sure she had a proper goodbye, most importantly, he would have gotten to tell her what he had come back to tell her. 

He had missed a call from her last month and he didn't return her call simply because he had forgotten. 

To say he felt guilty, was an understatement. 

What if she had been calling to tell him that she was leaving ? Or if something had happened to her? or JJ or Emily or Spencer ? Or even Rossi (because, let’s be real, he’s old) 

The thought of Penelope calling Derek to tell him Rossi busted a hip running after an unsub bought a smile back to his face. His mind wandered back to all the times he had called her and they spent hours talking and laughing and telling each other how much they loved one another. 

Those were just words, it didn't truly mean anything unless he showed her that it did. The feeling of his heart sinking in his chest returned, he thought back to ten years ago, he had missed a call from Spencer. 

The cold air hit his face as he stepped out of the church, Derek took his phone out of his pocket. 

Missed Call from Pretty Boy (2) 

The missed call notifications flashed across the screen in bold letters. Derek assumed that Penelope had Spencer call to find out why he hadn't returned to the BAU with everyone else so he called Spencer back.  

“Hey, sorry I missed your call” Derek said to Spencer as he hopped in the SUV. 

“Derek where the hell are you ?” Spencer sounded upset, Derek chuckled. 

“Woah, calm down pretty boy. What’s wrong?” 

“Garcia’s been shot” Spencer cut straight to the point. 

Derek’s heart dropped and a flood of questions left his mouth. “What ? Where is she? Is she okay ? Where's Hotch ? Did he find the person ? How did this even happen?” 

“Morgan, we’re at the hospital. Penelope’s in surgery and Hotch is here. He’s got other officers at her apartment, he wanted everyone here when she got ou- oh wait, Hotch and Rossi are on their way to her apartment now” 

“Her apartment ? she got shot at home ?” 

“Derek.. please just come to the hospital.” 

Derek hung up on Spencer, all the emotions hitting him at once. He could feel the tears in his eyes but he didn't have time to cry. His only focus was getting to the hospital right now. 

The only thing that came to mind was lights. 

Derek did just that, he turned on the lights and sped down the road to the hospital. His thoughts took over. 

How did this happen? and the one night he just happened to be in church, Penelope got shot. 

His Penelope got shot. 

Derek didn’t believe in miracles but he hoped they were real that night. He glanced up at the sky as he sped down the road. 

“Tonight out of all nights huh? That’s messed up but let her pull through.. please. I can’t lose her” Derek said out loud. He wasn't sure if he was admitting it to himself or if he was talking to someone else, someone out there that could help Penelope but he said it anyways. 

It was true, he couldn’t lose her, he’d feel like lost himself if he did. 

When he arrived at the hospital, he found Spencer sitting with Emily and JJ. Hotch and Rossi stood by the doors. “Where are you still here ? I thought you were at the apartment” Derek walked over to them, Hotch turned his attention to Derek. 

“They don't want us working the case” 

“What ? That’s bullshit. Some son of a bitch shot her and we can’t even work the case? You can’t tell me that you’re actually listening to that shit” Derek practically shouted at Hotch. 

“I’m trying to figure something out Morgan. I understand you're upset, we all are.” Hotch told him. 

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Derek almost told Penelope that he loved her. He tells her all the time to be truthful, but like he thought, it didn’t mean anything unless he showed her that it did. He first told her the night she was released from the hospital. 

The two of them stood in her apartment after he brought her home. She was a bit on edge, even if she didn’t say it, he could see it. 

She had assured him it was okay for him to leave but he refused to leave her side until he knew she’d be safe and the son of a bitch that did that to her was either dead or in jail. 

Her back was turned to him, he called for her. 

“Hey, I love you, you know that right ?” he asked her, she smiled at him. 

“I love you too.” 

The second time was during a case in New York. Derek didn’t say he loved her out right but he assumed it was implied. 

“Why is it always you ? Why do you always do this?” she asked him, Derek navigated the ambulance through the traffic. 

“Garica, talk to me. Where do I turn?” he ignored her question. 

“Left, turn left. 30 seconds, get the hell out.” 

“Garcia there’s something I want you to know” 

“You can tell me afterwards, just get the hell out of there” 

“No, hold on let me just tell you” 

“Morgan” she warned him, the woman beside her counting down from ten. 

“Do you know what you are Garica ?” 

The line went silent for a second and the server connected. 

“Derek ?” Penelope called out to him, her voice ringing in his ear. The sound of something exploding was the only thing coming through the line.

“Garcia.. I'll tell you what you are to me” Derek’s voice came through. A wave of relief flooded her body but she couldn't help but roll her eyes. 

Was this man serious ? Here she was thinking something had happened to him and he’s fine. 

“You’re my god given solace” 

Penelope sighed, she loved him and it was clear he loved her too but she was mad at him so that would have to wait until another time. 

The third time was when he came the closest to really telling her the truth. They were in Alaska and the case was taking a toll on her. 

Her red hair caught his eye as he walked down the pathway. He walked up to her, his heart pounding in his chest. Derek wondered if she felt the same way he did. 

“I’m proud of you Penelope.” That was one of the rare days that he called her something other than a nickname or Garcia. His hand rested on her shoulder as she talked, admitting to him that she was scared, she didn't want to lose who she was because she had changed for the job.

“It's who you are baby girl, you see the beauty in everyone and everything no matter where you go. That part is never going to change and I won’t let you forget that.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me” 

“Tough, I think I'll stay on the job a little while longer” 

“Yeah ?” she smiled at him, he smiled back as a hum left his mouth. 

“How much longer ?” Penelope questions him, “every day of my life” 

The two of them were now leaning towards each other. She playfully punched his chest as she leaned forwards and his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

“I kinda love you Derek Morgan” 

“I kinda love you Penelope Garcia”

Derek couldn't tell her now, she's probably in a relationship and happy. He wouldn't ruin her happiness because he finally figured out his feelings, he couldn't do that to her. 

It didn't lessen the pain nor the heartbreak he felt. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

Emily sat in the bullpen with Spencer. It had been close to two hours since Spencer left Derek in Penelope’s old office. “I’m calling her” Emily states as she pulls out her phone. 

“Emily..” 

“Reid, shut up. I know you can see it too.” 

Everyone could see it, even Matt and Luke who were the last two to join the BAU. 

Derek Morgan was in love with Penelope Garica. 

He was in love with her right now and he always had been. 

Spencer listened as Emily told Penelope what was happening. A ‘see you soon’ left Emily’s lips before she hung up. Spencer looked over at her from his chair, Emily just nodded. 

-- 

Derek mentally groaned as someone knocked on the door, “I'm fine, Reid” Derek called out with his back still turned to the door, assuming it was Spencer. 

“I’m offended that you would mistake my beautiful body for boy wonder. Not that anything's wrong with him but- oh you get what I mean” a feminine voice spoke to him. 

Derek turned the chair around to see the one and only Penelope Garcia standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. She looked just as beautiful as she did the day he met her. 

Her white dress with the baby blue pattern on it, her sparkly blue heels and of course, matching jewellery. 

She looked like an angel on earth to him. 

“Hey handsome, miss me?” she asked, Derek got up and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug which made her laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes” she mumbled with her face buried in his chest.

“You have no idea” Derek replied, kissing the top of her head. 

She stepped back from him, their arms still wrapped around each other. 

“what are you doing here?” she looked up at him. 

“I came to see you, how’d you know I was here?” 

“Emily called me” 

Derek nodded, Prentiss always had his back in one way or another. 

Derek tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, she smiled at him. There was a baby blue streak in her hair, the same colour as the pattern on her dress. The frame of her glasses was slightly darker than the blue on her dress but it looked beautiful on her. Penelope’s eyes shifted from Derek to the picture frame on the desk. 

“Where did you find that ?” she picked up the frame. 

“Desk drawer” 

“I remember this night” she smiled looking down at the picture. 

“Me too” 

Penelope turned back to Derek, he reached forward and held one of her hands. 

“Penelope” 

“Derek” 

“There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been meaning to tell you and honestly, I have told you but I- I just need you to know” 

“Is everything okay ?” 

“I love you” he says 

“I love you too” she smiles. 

“Penelope, I'm in love with you.” Derek's eyes met Penelope's. Her mouth hung out slightly, she blinked a few times, her eyes focusing on Derek. 

“What ?” 

“I’m in love with you, I always have been. I’ve been trying to tell you that for years. I never realized that I was until you got shot to tell you the truth. It never occurred to me that I could lose you, you work from the office in your little room of wonders and you’re safe. You had always been safe.” 

“Derek I-” 

“Baby, let me finish, please” 

She nodded and waited for him to go on.

“You were the only consistent thing when I worked here, did you know that ? Every time I left this building, there was a chance I wouldn't come back, you were the reason I wanted to come back. You were the reason I pushed so hard to come back. Penelope Garica, you are my angel, the light of my life, my god given solace, you are my baby girl.” Derek let out a sigh. Penelope looked up at him, “are you done?” and he nodded. 

She pulled him into a hug, “it took you long enough” she whispered to him. “I love you too, more than words can explain.” 

Derek’s hand cradled her face, “can I kiss you ?” he leaned towards her, his lips inches from hers. “Yes” she mumbled as his lips touched her. Penelope’s heart pounded in her chest, she could only focus on how Derek’s lips felt against hers. Truthfully, she had been dreaming of the day Derek would finally kiss her for years. It was better than she could have ever imagined. It felt as if time stopped and it was only the two of them while the world melted away. 

Derek’s eyes open slightly, taking in the woman he had been in love with for so long. The way her eyelashes flutter against her skin and the way her pink blush complemented her pale skin. 15 years of friendship and love had led them to this moment, the moment that would change their lives from this day forward. 

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled away from each other. Penelope’s hands clung onto Derek’s shirt like he would vanish if she let go. Her red lipstick smudge and surely there was lipstick on Derek too. Derek smiled at her and she smiled back at him, the two began laughing like school children sharing secrets. 

“I think I'll keep my job” Derek mumbled against her lips as he pulled her in for another kiss. Her mind flickering back to their case in Alaska and what he had said to her before they left. 

“How much longer are you planning on doing that ?” 

“Every single day of my life babygirl.” 

------ 

Dedicated to my darling @haleymalaffey <3 

Taglist: @aaronhotchnerr​ @mac99martin​ @aaron-hotchner187​ @tclaerh​ @luke-alvez​ @iconicc​ @lieberhers​ @pumpkin-reads​ @katexrichardson​ @sluttytears​ @thelukealvez​ @scandinavian-punk​ @rosesonmyheart​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​ @ssaemxlyprentxss​ @summerygubler​ @savannahhayes @moreid187 @lovelyladiess

#derek morgan #penelope garcia #derek morgan x penelope garcia #derek x penelope #morcia #cm #cm imagine #cm imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #morgan x garcia #penelope x derek #derek morgan imagine #penelope garica imagine #ssa derek morgan #ssa penelope garica

[isthisthingeven0n]

coping mechanisms : a.h

everyone has their ways of coping with traumatic events, but it’s finally time you faced yours. (2.5K)

m y  e t s y  s h o p

also pls don’t steal my work or share it without crediting, it takes a lot of time and effort to write these!

Sitting on the jet, you were abnormally quiet. Usually, the team couldn’t get you and Spencer to stop talking about anything and everything. Yet today, a strange silence loomed over you as Spencer rambled on about statistics, whilst Hotch tried to catch gaze from across the table that everyone besides you noticed.

“You know, based on Greek mythology, Ares is the God of War, son of Hera and Zeus and is one of the twelve Olympians. He’s also the equivalent of Mars in Roman mythology.” Spencer finishes his explanation with a small smile towards the team as your eyes remain fixated on the case file in front of you, something that didn’t go amiss by Hotch.

“So, this unsub thinks of himself as a God?” JJ questions as she scrolls through the various photos on her tablet of the nine victims so far.

“Each one has a new symbol on them, you see, on their wrists?” You finally speak up to everyone’s surprise. “Spence, are these symbols correlating to the other eleven Olympians?” You ask, focusing on your best friends gaze as his smile meets his eyes.

Taking in all of the images, Spencer nods. “It looks that way, but this one here, the sun which would symbolise Apollo, the God of archery, music, dance, healing diseases, truth and prophecy, and more recognisably sun and light. But it isn’t quite complete, looks as if the unsub was interrupted.” Spencer explains, watching as your interest quickly declines, and you lean back into your seat.

“Maybe there will be some security footage outside of the bar leading toward the alleyway the victim was found.” Hotch states, closing his case file as the jet begins to descend. “Morgan, I want you and JJ to go to the ME’s office, see if the symbols all correlate and any other marks that may be on the victims. Rossi, you and Reid go to the crime scene where Olivia Collins was found, see if anyone in the area saw anything. Y/n, you and I will go to the station.” Hotch tries to see if you’ll even focus on him, but you’ve retreated into yourself, shut down.

Eventually, you nod along with everyone else, unaware of the concern etched in Hotch’s hardened expression as you close your eyes, rubbing your temple as you lean against the window.

*

“Agent Hotchner?” A man walks over to you and Hotch, holding his hand out. “Officer Richards, a pleasure to meet you.”

“This is SSA Y/L/N, where would you like us to set up?” Hotch asks as you follow behind him to a free room, passing the blur of noise of phone calls and officers talking. “Y/n?” Hotch calls out your name, snapping out of your daze.

“Sorry,” You apologise, feeling the heat rising through your cheeks as Hotch hums to himself.

“Is something wrong, Y/n?” Hotch questions as he sits down beside you in the private office, his hands resting on the table. “If there is, you can tell me, especially if it affects your ability to work on the case.” Hotch tells you, his voice softer as your eyes grow heavy once more as you hide your hands in your lap.

“I don’t know Hotch,” You sigh. “and that’s the issue.”

Rising to his feet, Hotch closes the door to the room, shutting out the noise from the rest of the station as he returns to his seat beside you. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you? You seemed jittery on the jet.” Hotch states, not even needing you to agree with him.

“I just,” You struggle to form the correct words as you focus on your boss who looks back at you with a gentle expression. “I’m not feeling like myself, Hotch. And I just, I don’t know what to do about it anymore.”

Silence falls over you both as you play with the hem of your shirt, not wanting to face your bosses reaction. “Is it related to Utah?” Hotch watches as you tense at the mention of it. “If it is, you’re still entitled to see someone about it, Y/n.”

“But it was months ago, Hotch.” You comment quickly. “I should be over it, I moved on, I got better.” You explain. “So why is it now coming back to haunt me?” You exhale deeply.

“What happened to you in Utah isn’t something you can just walk away from, Y/n. You were captured and beaten, held at gunpoint in front of all of us to watch.” Hotch pauses as tears form in your eyes, one escaping as it glides across your cheek.

It was a sight Hotch will never be able to forget. He was the first one to find you in that building as you lay on the ground too weak to move. You were muttering nonsense as you screamed in pain when he tried to help you to your feet.

You were gone for three weeks, and in that time you were filmed being tortured and threatened to be killed whilst your team watched on a live stream. Hotch had never felt so useless since Hayley had died, and he didn’t dare want to risk losing you too, even if he had never said anything about how he felt.

“I know, I just want to forget about it.” You admit, wiping your eyes quickly with the cuff of your sleeve. “I have to.” You forcefully state before reaching over for the case files, but Hotch places his hand on the file, stopping you from taking it.

“Y/n,” Hotch starts with his authoritative tone. “you need to speak to someone when the case is over, and that’s an order.”

“I will, Hotch.” You force a small smile, taking the file and delving in deeper to the evidence that’s been collected so far.

“I’m saying that as your boss, and, and as a friend, okay?” Hotch adds softly, witnessing your forced smile soften into something genuine, even if it were for a split second, it returned.

*

You were getting closer, four more bodies had been found with the symbols of Hermes, Ares, Posideon and Hades carved into their wrists.

“What if the unsub knows we’re onto him? And this is his endgame now?” JJ suggests.

“But he hasn’t finished all twelve.” You state bluntly, ignoring the look on JJ’s face as you rise to your feet and look over the victim pool once more.

“Maybe that doesn’t matter to him.” Hotch comments, stepping toward you as he stands by your side, his back turned to everyone else. “Keep level, Y/L/N.” He mutters to you, a shudder going through your body as Hotch averts his attention back to the rest of the team. “Each of his victims has been associated in some way with each Olympian. Maybe he doesn’t have all twelve in the first place.”

“He’s halfway through the twelve though, why stop now?” Emily speaks up as Garcia interrupts and appears on the screen.

“Good afternoon my favourite crime fighters. I’ve discovered something that I think might help with your suspect pool.” Garcia states brightly. “It looks as if the victims were all part of the same after school club in High School. All from different friend groups and societies, but they all attended the Greek mythology club at Preston State.”

“How many others were involved in this group, baby girl?” Morgan asks, leaning forward as you listen to the sound of Garcia typing becoming further and further away.

“Four others. There’s Hayden Lewis who is currently serving seven months in jail for possession of drugs, Jordan Littlewood, she moved upstate to Michigan last year, Elise Harding and oh,” Garcia pauses, and you zone back into the room as you reach for the back of a chair to support yourself on.

“What?” JJ enquiries as Penelope pushes her glasses back up her nose, focusing on the camera.  

“When the group was in school, there was a fire in the same block that the club was held in. It says that six students and one teacher were killed in the accident, including Greek mythology club member, Timothy Cardel.” Garcia sadly sighs.

“What time of day did the fire occur Garcia?” Spencer leans forward in his chair, and you can see the cogs whirring behind his eyes.

“Erm,” Garcia hums to herself until she clicks on something. “3:35 pm on a Tuesday.”

“What’re you thinking, Reid?” Hotch focuses on Spencer as you take a seat, catching Hotches eye for a split second before Spencer starts to explain his thought process.

“Most school clubs happen after school, meaning there’s a high possibility the Greek mythology club was held on a Tuesday after school, and all the members were there when the fire happened. If school finishes at 3, then they would’ve all been in that building when the fire started.” Spencer explains, and you nod along.

“Meaning Timothy got left behind.” You state coldly, all eyes turning to you.

“I think we’re ready to deliver the profile,” Hotch announces as he rises to his feet, the rest of you following suit.

*

Fastening the velcro around your vest, you place your gun into its holster, unaware of Hotch hovering by the doorway as you exit.

“Y/n,” Catching you by surprise, you jump before glaring to Hotch. “sorry,” He tries to sound sincere, but a small smile creeps into his face as you relax beside him. “are you sure you want to do this? It might be best if you stay at the station.” Hotch suggests in a low tone.

“No,” You respond too quickly. “I, I want to come. I’m fine, really.” You add, nodding to yourself as you walk on, but Hotch reaches for your arm, pulling you back.

Your eyes focus on his hand resting on your arm, and quickly Hotch removes his hand from your arm. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He tells you sincerely, something you’ve heard countless times, but something about this seems different. No one else in the team is around, they’re all outside waiting for you both.

“I won’t.” You mutter in response, moving aside from Hotch as you exit the building, thankful for some fresh air as your vest is starting to feel constrictive.

Upon arriving at the unsubs house, you’re already feeling the humidity getting to you worse than it had been the entire time you’d been in the city. Spencer joked when the jet landed that you’ll get used to it, that fewer layers were key and Garcia would’ve loved a chance to see Morgan in fewer layers; but this was far from pleasant.

As you all filed out, guns at the ready Morgan followed behind Hotch whilst you’re on the tail end of the team.

You were unintentionally squinting as you listen to the sound of Morgan kicking the front door in as Hotch’s firm voice fills your ears.

“Y/n?” Snapping out from the blurred house, three versions of Spencer takes over your peripheral. “Hey, let’s sit down, okay?” Spencer speaks quietly, delicately as he reaches out to take a hold of your arm, but you jolt away.

“Get off me.” You snap, walking past him as your vision only worsens and the humidity seeps through your clothing, itching your skin as each step feels weighted until you reach the steps of the house.

Hotch emerges behind JJ and Morgan as they hold the unsub, passing you quickly, hiding their concerned looks.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch steps closer, capturing a glimpse of panic in your eyes just as you pass out as your head hits the pavement.

*

Cold coffee and stale doughnuts. The well worn in fabric beneath you had a spring sticking out, jabbing against your left thigh. You were back in the station. But what was more surprising was the hushed sound of a conversation ending between two of your colleagues whilst your eyes remained closed.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell her?” Rossi mutters as he averts his gaze from your ‘sleeping’ form to Hotch, who is unable to take his eyes from you for a single second.

“I’m not sure, Dave.” Hotch admits, wanting to reach out and brush the stray hairs out of your face, but he doesn’t want to risk waking you up, not yet at least. “Maybe someday, but not today.”

Rossi tuts to himself. “You’re letting all the good ones slip out of your grasp, Aaron,” Rossi comments. “and you know how much Jack loves her.”

The mention of Jack causes your heart to swell, and it takes everything for you to not smile as you gain consciousness.

“He’s not the only one,” Hotch adds, just as a yawn escapes your lips and you begin to open your eyes.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Rossi speaks up, rising to his feet whilst Hotch stays glued to his chair beside you.

Slowly, you try to sit upright but Hotch leans forward, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “I’d just stay lying for a while if I were you.” Hotch suggests as you nod along, forcing yourself back down.

“I’ll go check on the others, let them know you’re alright.” Rossi excuses himself, leaving a heavy silence over you and Hotch.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Hotch asks, his stern gaze concentrated on the exhaustion in yours.

“No time like the present.” You force a laugh, ignoring Hotch’s prior suggestion and sit upright as a slight pang crosses your temples. “I’m going to take some leave when we get back to Quantico.” You tell Hotch, watching as he nods.

“I think it’s for the best, Y/L/N.” He responds, catching the sight of your leg bouncing for a moment before you rest your hand on your thigh, forcing it to remain still.

“I know I’m due for a lecture, and a debriefing about the mission,” You hold back the urge to sigh, but Hotch beats you to it as a heavy sigh leaves his lips, causing you to smile.

The sight of a smile crossing your face is too contagious at the moment between you both. “We can talk more when we’re back. For now, I think it’s best if we just got you home in one piece.” Hotch stands up and hovers beside you, his arm extended as you gratefully accept.

“Thanks, Hotch.” You smile softly up to him as you exit the sheriff's office and near the rest of your team.

After a series of short questions, you’re all heading towards the jet.

“I couldn’t be happier to go home.” JJ sighs as she rests her head in her hand, looking out at the city as you near the airport.

Sitting beside Hotch in the passenger seat, your eyes glance over to him. “Me too,” You reply, a smile gracing your lips, knowing there’s more yet to be discussed with Hotch, including what he said before you fully woke up. “me too.” 

#thank you for reading! #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner oneshot #hotch imagine #hotch fluff #hotch imagines #hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds au #criminal minds fic

[benedictscanvas]

just you and i - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: this is a fluff fest without reprieve - read at own risk

A/N: I cannot stop writing fluff, I swear. Sorry all y’all angst lovers, but it just isn’t my scene. Here’s a super self-indulgent wedding fic since I’m not feeling my best and wanted to imagine a wedding with Spence where not everything goes to plan - in the best way. Enjoy loves! :)

---

It wasn’t that you were panicking. Not as such. You’d wanted to marry Spencer for a very long time, had been waiting for this moment for longer than you ever hoped you would have to because your jobs had postponed your own wedding no less than four times. But now, as you sat in your wedding dress alone and looked out the window, watching people arrive just hours from the big moment, your heart rate spiked.

It turned out there was a lot of people that you didn’t even know you’d invited that were showing up to celebrate. It was sweet of them to come...but it was also completely ridiculous and overwhelming when you had no idea so many people would be here.

Curse you for leaving most of your wedding planning to other people.

Your bridesmaids had left you to some alone time, Emily suggesting that it might be nice for you to have a moment alone to take in the magic of the day. It had been a sweet thought at the time, but now you were beginning to rethink it.

Without much thought, you dialled your favourite number and waited.

“Is everything alright?”

He answered on the first ring and sounded just as flustered as you felt. You supposed it wasn’t exactly normal to call your future husband on the morning of your wedding.

“Of course, sorry Spence, everything’s fine,” you breathed, quick to reassure him, and you heard his breath of relief with a twinge of guilt, “I- well I just-”

He heard the tone in your voice as clear as anything.

“I’m coming to find you.”

His voice was hushed, and you warranted that Derek was probably with him. He hung up quickly and you put the phone down, wondering whether this was a good idea. But you’d never been one for superstition and you knew that you were going to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved whether everything went well today or not.

Before you knew it, there was a knock on your door. He was only down the hall of the hotel after all. When you opened the door, you saw him with his hand over his eyes and you grinned, pulling him into your room before any of your bridesmaids could see and reprimand the two of you.

“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he said worriedly, still clamping his hand tightly over his eyes. You laughed, slowly pulling his hand away from his face and letting it fall limp by his side. His eyes were still screwed shut.

“Spencer,” you murmured softly, watching him with a smile that was as fond as it could be. He looked so pretty, “Would you please open your eyes for me? I’ve already looked at you and, damn I’m glad I have.”

He was grinning, just like you’d wanted.

“That’s not the superstition, the whole point is that the groom isn’t supposed to-“

“Baby,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands with all the tenderness you held for him, “Please?”

He opens his eyes and now he looks infinitely more pretty than he did before. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you with a love you never truly believed you’d find and winds his arms gently around your waist.

“You look beautiful, angel,” he whispers, only for you, his voice choked. You try to hold back your own tears as you kiss him, pulling him into you with fervour. When you pull away, you keep him close, temples pressed together as his lips graze your ear. You shiver.

“Why are we having a wedding, Spence?”

That probably came out wrong. His closeness is gone quickly and it’s all you can do not to clamp him back to your chest again. His eyes are wide and the fear within them is plain as day.

“What?”

“Oh god, sorry, that’s not how I meant that to come out...at all,” you struggled for the words, feeling all your earlier anxieties piling on top of you again, “I want to marry you more than anything in this world Spence, you know that, but why did we agree to have a wedding? And such a big one too!”

He was relaxed again, thank goodness. You decided you really needed to stop scaring him shitless on what was guaranteed to be the best day of your shared lives.

He considers your question properly before he answers. It seems he comes to the same conclusion that you do.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think we got swept up in what everyone else wanted.”

“Right?” you agreed, “It’s like just because we have busy jobs means that we basically went along with what everyone suggested. We were so stupid!”

“So stupid!”

He laughed and you joined him in it. This was what you wanted for your wedding. Just you and Spencer. Simple. It was what you wanted for the entirety of your marriage.

“You know what I would’ve been happy with?” you ask, a playful smile on your face that he just can’t resist as you reach for him again, winding your arms up and around his neck while his encircle your waist with all the warmth in the world.

“What’s that?”

“You. Me. The conference room. Couple of strings of fairy lights.”

“That’s it?” he asked, still with that smile on his face that was formed of awe. Awe that all you really wanted was him, that all he really wanted was you. He would never get over it.

“And cake, of course, I’m not a monster,” you said with a giggle as you let your forehead fall forward onto his chest, “I just want to be your wife, Spence, and I didn’t imagine doing it with the entirety of Penelope’s contact list out there.”

“Did you see Kevin arrive?”

“Kevin’s here?” you asked indignantly, then with a sigh, “I’ve spoken to him twice in my life, I’m pretty sure.”

“Three times,” Spencer says, because of course he remembers and you swat him gently for correcting you, even though he knows you love it, “He’s even got a plus one.”

You buried your head as far into Spencer’s chest as you could manage with a loud grumble. He laughed at you softly before pressing a placating kiss to the top of your head, and another for good measure. Another just because he wanted to.

“You know who else is here?” you asked, picking your head up to look at him again (you missed his face), “That woman from the case in Dallas. You know, the one that Penny liked and jokingly invited to our wedding over the phone?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I watched her walk in a few minutes ago….with a plus one.”

“No way,” Spencer breathed and you nodded pointedly. You loved gossiping back and forth with him like this. It made you forget where you were, what you were wearing, how itchy the back of your dress was, “How many plus ones did Garcia give out?”

“By the looks of it, everyone got one. The plus ones have their own plus one for fuck’s sake!”

There was a pause as Spencer smiled at your outburst, until you were smiling back at him and soon you were kissing all over again. It didn’t take much. Your hands are in his hair, rooting themselves in the strands, as his splay themselves across your back and leave goosebumps in their wake. Every nerve ending is on fire and suddenly you know exactly what you’re going to do next.

You pull away from his suddenly, despite his silent protest as one hand comes up to cup your cheek and bring you back to him, eyes still closed. You stay firm, plant your hand on his chest until he opens his eyes to look at you. He still looks like he just wants to kiss you senseless.

“I have an idea,” you propose slowly, running your hand up his chest, to his neck and back down again, “Feel free to shut me down, though.”

He tilted his head, a grin worming its way onto his features.

“Shut you down? Never.”

---

You’d gathered up the team with whispered voices and hurried gestures. Sneaking around corners and insistent shushing when they tried to argue with you. Eventually, you had everyone gathered in one of the rooms of the hotel, a few floors above where you were set to get married.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Derek hissed at you, when you and Spencer stood in front of them all, hand in hand, just grinning, “You’re getting married in-” he checked his watch, “-just under 2 hours. Unless you’ve called it off?”

He only said it to rile you up but it worked. You grabbed hold of Spencer’s arm with your other hand and snuggled up to his side as you glared at Derek.

“Of course we haven’t, idiot,” you glowered, which only made him chuckle, “But we’re not getting married here.”

Penelope looked like she might be about to faint.

“What?!”

“I’m so sorry Pen,” you said sympathetically, “You’ve done such an amazing job with everything but...it’s not us, you know? There’s so many people here!”

“Yeah, all your friends!”

“The woman from Dallas?” you asked and she pressed her lips together.

“Okay, fair,” she said quickly, “But I just wanted two of my favourite people to have the best day ever full of the very best people ever!”

“And we will,” you insisted with a smile, “But just, not quite yet. We’ve got a plan first.”

“A plan?” Dave asked, looking exasperated, “You’ve not cared about the details of this wedding for months, but now you have a plan?”

You and Spencer looked at each other. Grinned.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Spencer said, breathless.

There was a collective groan from the whole team.

---

By the time Emily and JJ had been sent into the venue to retrieve every spare string of fairy lights they could, Derek and Hotch had hung them between the trees and Rossi had come around to the fact that he’d be delivering the wedding outside rather than inside, everything was perfect. Any sense of panic had vanished. You’d kissed Spencer goodbye half an hour ago, and now you were stood arm in arm with Hotch a little way from the clearing you’d found in the woods.

There were woods right next to your venue, it seemed. How perfect. And just out of view of all the guests that were now waiting impatiently. Despite how many horrible things you’d all seen happen in woodland areas over the years, it didn’t matter now. These woods were pristine and new and about to become yours forever.

“Ready?” Hotch asked you quietly, nudging you out of your trance. You beamed at him.

“You know how long I’ve been ready for this,” you chuckled, emotional already.

He had tears in his eyes too. The softie.

“Then let’s do this.”

You walked until you were in the makeshift aisle. And everyone who needed to be there, was there. Particularly? Spencer.

Right there at the end of the aisle. In the tuxedo you’d already seen him in, but with new tears in his eyes and a watery smile. You laughed despite yourself, already crying. You swore you wouldn’t. He laughed too. You even made a joke about pulling Hotch along with you, desperate to get to the end of the aisle, to which everyone laughed, JJ through some pretty loud sobs. You’d never have made that joke if this wasn’t just family.

An eternity later, you were facing Spencer, hands held tightly in his. Both crying. Everyone was now. Rossi had to compose himself before beginning his speech. You hardly heard it. You were looking at Spencer. All you wanted to do was look at him forever and ever.

Rossi hurried through everything he was going to say. He’d been promised he could do it properly when you made it to the actual ceremony, which you were still going to do, because you couldn’t fathom telling everyone in that hall that you wouldn’t be attending your own wedding because you’d rather not have all of them present for it.

When it came to the vows, you decided to come up with some on the spot, just for this little special version of your wedding. You could do the regular vows later. This mattered now.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, to use your full title,” you giggled as everyone laughed, and Spencer squeezed your hands with an elated grin. He still hadn’t stopped crying, “I didn’t know there was a feeling like this until you walked into my life. You quickly became my entire world, before we even started dating. I just adore you. All of you, every bit. I can’t wait to- to do the whole of life with you. I-I love you so much.”

The awkward phrasing of your last sentence was mostly due to the fact that you were quickly breaking down. Spencer was crying at your words, right there in front of you, so how were you supposed to do anything but cry with him. He wiped your tears with gentle, trembling hands.

“I love you so much,” he said shakily, clearing his throat to carry on, “There was a time, as you all know, when I definitely thought I was just one of those people who ends up alone.”

You sniffled at that, because it was one of the least favourite things that he tells you about sometimes.

“Spence,” you whispered, smiling sadly at him and he shook his head with a smile.

“What I’m trying to say, is that my world was black before you came into it. But none of that matters now. All that really matters is that this is actually happening, with our family around us, and the rest of our lives ahead. Having a soulmate, in the traditional sense, is a ridiculous thing to claim, but it’s ridiculous to me that someone like you truly and unconditionally loves someone like me, so maybe we all need a bit of ridiculous. You’re my soulmate, Y/N. I love you more than anything. Our life together will be…”

It was him who was choked up now, unable to finish his sentence. You could still hear JJ sobbing in the background, but now she was joined by Penny and Derek. Derek was a mess. Hotch was doing better, but only marginally.

“Perfect,” you muttered, taking his face in your hands, “Our life will be perfect.”

He swooped in quickly, tears still fresh on his cheeks, lips on yours and hands on your hips before you could register it. You pulled away quickly and shook your head at him with a laugh.

“Not yet Spence!” you cried, laughing along with Rossi beside you who could barely contain himself.

He looked a little put out. His hands were itching to grab you.

“Sorry,” he muttered lowly, like a scolded child and you placed your hand on his face to remind him. Just a few moments, my love.

It didn’t take long, but it felt like you were waiting a lifetime for Rossi to tell Spencer to kiss you, finally kiss you. He was worth the wait. Worth every wait. His arms tightening around you, he managed to lift you from the floor despite the weight of your dress, and you giggled against his lips.

“Wife,” Spencer mumbled. Breathless. Wonderfully breathless. You found your breath had left you too, especially when he said the word. You were his wife now.

“Husband,” you chuckled as he put you down gently and you tuned back into the world around you, the cheers and hollers from your BAU family, the now familiar sound of sobbing mixed with joyful laughter. You held Spencer’s hand as you turned to face them with watery smiles. Squeezed it in your own and received a tight squeeze in return.

This was what you wanted. Simple. Just you and Spencer. Forever.

(you eventually made it to your actual wedding, and did the ceremony all over again in front of everyone, even though you were already married. an extra secret between your family, and an extra moment too. you didn’t always get a lot of moments)

(besides, why marry the love of your life once when you could marry them twice?)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid

[hotchley]

i’m not bulletproof

Jesus Christ why am I so dramatic? Okay, my laptop is very close to dying, so I am cross-posting this, hotchner’s hoodie and the waiting game, then I will be gone... until tonight

Umm... yeah. This was my second fic. It’s literally for my pinned because I’m dramatic </3

Trigger Warnings: referenced child abuse, canon-typical violence, violence towards children and references to child deaths, suicide

read on ao3!

It started, not with a case, but with an argument. 

Jack wanted to go to a party. Hotch said no. He said no because it wasn’t safe, and the party was taking place on a school night, which meant Jack had to be in bed by ten at the absolute latest. He had hoped that by calmly and softly explaining his reasons for not letting Jack go, his son would understand why he was being told no and accept it with the same grace and dignity that he accepted most things in life.

Unfortunately, his son was a hormonal teenager muddling their way through puberty. And instead of accepting he couldn’t go, he kept pressing and asking why. On the third day of being asked, Hotch got irritated and raised his voice slightly, it became an argument.

“I just don’t understand why you never let me do anything,” Jack complained.

Hotch looked up from the budget report. He hadn’t wanted to bring work home- a remnant of the life he had once shared with Haley, but it needed to be done and he had wanted to spend time with Jack. With hindsight, it probably would’ve been better to stay at the office and let him stay with Jessica to calm down.

“I let you do plenty of things that aren’t irresponsible or dangerous Jack,” he replied calmly.

“But this party isn’t going to be irresponsible or dangerous, it’s just a bunch of teenagers. And doesn’t it count for something that I told you about it? I could’ve just snuck out the house and let you wonder where I’d gone,” Jack said, wildly gesticulating. 

He closed the file. “I appreciate you telling me, but my answer is no. You may be responsible, but not everyone is. I don’t want you being exposed to drugs and alcohol before you’re old enough to understand the effects it has on you.”

“You let me be exposed to death before I was old enough to understand what it meant,” Jack spat.

Hotch paled, all the blood leaving his body and turning him into a frozen statue, unable to move as the memory of Haley’s dark hair- of course it was dark, she’d gone into witness protection- spread out on the carpet like a halo and her eyes, still open but almost like the glass eyes of those dolls from that one case, haunted his memory.

“What?”  his voice was soft, dangerously calm.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard me. You’re telling me I can’t go to a party, but I was just down the hall when mom died because of you. I’m not a little kid anymore, and you can’t protect me from anything anymore.”

“I can still protect you from some things,” he whispered, not making eye contact. The colours of the folder started to blur together as his eyes filled with tears. It was a morbid thought, but Jack’s words felt like the thorns his mother would throw in his side when she was angry at her husband and needed to let go of the pain.

“Well maybe I don’t want you to.”

“Jack, I’m still your father.”

“Are you? You’re never home at a normal time, you don’t know who any of my friends are, you always go on cases and leave me with Aunt Jess. Mom died because of you and your stupid profiling, but you still always answer when Miss Jareau phones, and you still go all around the country like I don’t even matter.”

“Of course you matter to me Jack. I love you more than anything in this world. But a profiler who catches the bad guys is who I am and-”

“I’m not five years old anymore. You’re not a superhero. You’re just the man that got my mom pregnant and sometimes makes me mac and cheese for dinner.”

Jack stormed off to his room before Hotch could say another word. He didn’t go after him, knowing that was the last thing his son would want. Rationale told him Jack didn’t mean a word of what he had said, that he was just angry and hurt, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all true. Of course Jack knew how to hurt him, what child didn’t know what would upset their parents, but he was also right.

He wanted to go and hold his son, to let him go to the stupid party and tell him he would stop being a profiler, but he couldn’t. He felt frozen in place, unable to do anything more than bury his head in his hands and wonder where he fucked up. 

Somehow he managed to get up and make them both something to eat- he went for stir fry instead of mac and cheese- before he went up to Jack’s room and knocked on the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” came the muffled response.

“I know you don’t. And I won’t make you.” I’m not your paternal grandfather, he thought. I won’t kick the door in and grab you by the back of your neck because you ran away. “I won’t let you starve though. Dinner is outside the door.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Hotch sighed. “Jack, please. I don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“And I want a real parent. We can’t always get what we want- isn’t that what you always say to me?”

Hotch had to step back, press a hand to the wall to stop himself from falling to his knees and crying. He wanted to tell Jack that wasn’t the way to speak to anyone, especially not an adult, but the words got lodged in his throat and he couldn’t speak, too scared of shouting or repeating the words his father had used the one time he had tried to fight back.

“I know,” he said instead, and walked back to the dining room. He pushed the plate he had set down away. 

His work phone lit up with Dave’s name. He answered.

“Hotchner.”

“Is everything okay? JJ tried phoning you but apparently you didn’t answer all three times. She thought you were with me, and when I said you weren’t, everyone got a bit panicked. In fact Morgan is on his way right now.”

Hotch felt bad for making everyone worry, especially given what had happened last time he hadn’t answered his phone and they had gone and looked for him. “I’m sorry. Everything’s fine. Do we have a case?”

He cursed himself for being stupid. Dave wouldn’t call if they didn’t have a case, even if all he wanted was for that to happen. For Dave to call once they had both gone home, just because he wanted to talk about something random.

“Yeah. It’s bad. Three kids have already been buried, fourth was reported missing twenty minutes ago. JJ will brief us on the jet. Morgan said he’s going to pick you up.”

Hotch was not stupid. He knew why Dave had said buried instead of killed. And whilst he hated the coddling, he couldn’t help but appreciate that he never needed to speak when it was Dave.

“Okay. How far away is he? I need to call Jess.”

“Garcia said ten minutes. She’s coming with us by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Aaron. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hotch ignored the warm feeling that came whenever Dave said his first name. “I’m fine. I promise.” He hung up before his answer could be profiled.

He had a short, polite conversation with Jess, then went to Jack’s room. He knocked to the theme of Harry Potter- Jack’s new favourite book series, courtesy of Reid. Whenever Jack saw Spencer, he came home with a glint in his eyes and a whole new shelf worth of books. And when Hotch went to chastise Reid for spoiling his son, Reid would give him the happy puppy eyes and he would relent.

“Let me guess. Aunt Jess will be here in twenty minutes, and you’ll call everyday. And you’ll hopefully be back as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry buddy.”

“Don’t go then.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Then don’t apologise.”

He didn’t have a response for that. Instead, he headed to his own room to change. He entered the code to the safe- the day Jack was born, the month he was born, the year Haley was born and holstered his weapons. 

Before he left, he tried to say goodbye to Jack properly. The bedroom door was locked.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. The only acknowledgement he received was a grunt.

Morgan texted, saying he was outside. Hotch sighed, schooled his features into a somewhat neutral expression and headed down to meet him. 

“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, once they had started driving.

“No problem. I have to ask, why didn’t you answer?” Morgan responded. “And you know I don’t want to pressure you to talk or anything like that, but everyone was really scared. We thought something had happened. I mean, Rossi was ready to get everyone from the FBI to look for you.”

His stomach twisted. They weren’t meant to worry about him. “I’m sorry. I was with Jack.” It wasn’t a lie. And Morgan was respectful enough to not profile the truth.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. 

“We’re heading to Boston,” JJ said, once they boarded the jet.

Hotch nodded, taking the file from her, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. Boston. One of those places he would never not associate with terror, blood and death. Just like Georgia. And Milwaukee.

“Over the past three months, three teen boys have gone missing from three different cities. They’re all pretty similar in appearance, all come from pretty similar backgrounds. All were found in their local parks. No evidence of torture or sexual assault. The only reason anyone made the connection was because of a conference, where two of the detectives spoke and realised something was up,” JJ explained.

Hotch nodded, feeling nauseous. He wished he had tried to force down some of his dinner. Then he opened the file and was suddenly glad he had skipped his meal.

For when he looked at the pictures, both from the crime scenes and of their smiling faces, all he could see was Jack. Dark blonde hair, light green eyes, wide smiles. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing and looked back at the files. Focused on the victimology. Teenage boys, but no evidence of sexual assault. Mothers weren’t in the picture, either they had passed away or not received custody after the divorce. The fathers were all in high pressure jobs, most of them spending more time at the office than at home.

“Excuse me,” he said to no one in particular, heading to the toilet.

JJ gave him a concerned look but let him go without a word. 

To keep up appearances, he flushed the toilet and let the tap run to make it seem like he had actually gone to the toilet, as opposed to stare at his own reflection- tired, old, broken, absent father- and remind himself to maintain some sort of control.

Rossi was stood on the other side of the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Hotch nodded, ignoring the taste of bile in his mouth. He didn’t want Rossi to worry about him. He didn’t want anyone worrying about him, but especially not his best friend. Because every time he did, it only served as a reminder of everything he wanted but couldn’t have. The day he realised he loved Rossi had been terrifying, for a number of reasons. He had told Haley by accident, and she had laughed and said he was probably the last one to realise. She had told him to go for it, but he had been a coward and refused. It was another broken promise he had made to her. 

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look great. And you sounded distant on the phone.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a thing with Jack,” he confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I want to get to Boston and solve the case.”

He walked away, unable to stand the look in Dave’s eyes.

Things went from bad to worse when they landed. Hotch had gone with JJ to set up in the field office, only to find out that all four dads were already there and ready to give whatever information they needed to help the investigation. And with JJ talking to the detectives about how to handle the media, he was tasked with speaking to each of them.

He ignored the looks the officers gave him when he asked to speak to them in a conference room instead of an interrogation room. He knew none of them were responsible. 

After speaking to each of them, and promising to do his best to find the person that had taken their children from them, and bring the last one back home safely, he felt a pit in his stomach and a migraine starting to form. He had no idea when he had last eaten, or drunk anything, but he also knew he couldn’t handle anything.

Talking to the parents had made it almost impossible to remain professional. He saw himself in each of the fathers. They had all been working when their sons were younger, never fully prepared to tackle fatherhood alone. They had all argued with their sons just minutes before they were taken. When Hotch asked them how they felt after they argued, they all responded with some version of the word bad. When he asked why, all parents argue, they told him they felt like their own parents. It had been like staring at a mirror.

“My son died thinking I hated him,” the third parent had whispered. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Hotch softened his gaze and his tone, clearing his throat before he replied. “Your son didn’t die thinking you hated him. You’re nothing like your own father. All children argue with their parents. He knew you loved him and you cannot blame yourself for what happened. We’ll find the man who did this and bring him to justice.”

The man had just nodded before leaving. 

Hotch left the conference room, and was greeted by Rossi.

“Dave. I thought you were still at the M.E’s office.”

“We finished up there. You should listen to your own advice every once in a while.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, already brushing past him to go and talk to Prentiss about what they found at the last crime scene.

“Jack doesn’t hate you. No matter what he may say.”

Hotch turned, ready for an argument, when Rossi raised his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t profile you. But I am your friend. And the only thing that would make you this tense would be something with Jack.”

“Now is not the time to talk about it,” he hissed.

There hadn’t been any DNA found on the scene, which meant they only had a profile to go on. After a quick dinner, that he didn’t really eat, Hotch told everyone there was nothing more to do, and even if there was, they were all exhausted. Rather reluctantly, everyone headed back to the hotel, where it immediately became clear they would be doubling up.

“We can have a girl’s night!” Garcia exclaimed.

JJ and Prentiss laughed, but took the middle room, which for some unknown but helpful reason had three beds.

“Come on pretty boy, you can tell me all about that book you read on the way here,” Morgan said.

Reid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Morgan nodded, taking the cards and slinging an arm around Reid’s shoulder. Before they left, Hotch called out for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“We forgot his birthday. Listening to him is the least I could do.”

“Not just for that. Thank you for coming to check up on me as well.”

“Hotch, you may be a drill sergeant, but you’re still my friend. And JJ may have yelled at me after she found out what I said to you about trusting people. We’re cool man.”

He nodded. “Go, Reid’s practically exploding with excitement.”

“You going to stand there watching them all night, or are you going to get some well-deserved sleep?” Rossi teased, suddenly behind him and pressing a card into his hand.

“You seem awfully chipper for someone who hates sharing a room,” he said as they went to the elevator.

“I don’t mind when it’s you,” Rossi said.

Hotch blushed, ignoring the way the words made him feel, ignoring the look in Rossi’s eyes that left no room for doubt, ignoring the way his heart sped up and the lack of space between them as they were crammed into a tiny elevator. 

They both dropped their bags down. Hotch immediately sat on the bed, knowing Dave would want to shower before he went to sleep. He smiled as his friend- because that was all he was, all he would ever be- left and opened up the case file. Yes, he had told everyone to go to sleep, but something was bugging him.

“You can at least loosen your tie,” Rossi teased from the doorway after he had showered.

Hotch turned and felt his throat go dry. He was only wearing a towel, hair still dripping. “I- what?”

“Tie. Loosen it. Actually, better yet, take it off. Go for a five minute shower. And then sleep.”

“Rossi, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Don’t make me phone Jess and put Jack on the line.”

That convinced him to get a move on, but not for the reason Dave was smirking at. 

There was so much blood everywhere, but he couldn’t work out where it was coming from. He couldn’t move. He was completely trapped, the weight of a body on top of his. There was a flash of something silver and then so much pain. He couldn’t show any fear, but the pain, oh the pain, it was so overwhelming that he couldn’t help but scream. All that existed in the broken home of his mind was that pain and the fear and the terror and that sudden, blood-curdling, chilling realisation that this was how things ended; this was how he was going to die. But someone was calling his name, who would be calling his name that urgently, Haley had Jack and-

“Aaron!” Dave yelled.

Hotch’s eyes flew open and he tried to kick the duvet away, only to find himself tangled in amongst the sheets and blanket and why couldn’t he move, why was it so dark, who was touching him, where was Jack- he was working the case, he needed to save him-

“Aaron, it’s Dave. You’re in a hotel room in Boston for a case. Jessica is at your apartment with Jack. Breathe with me.”

“Dave,” he whimpered.

“That’s right. That’s good. Just keep breathing. It was just a nightmare.”

“M’sorry for waking you up,” he murmured, clinging to Dave’s t-shirt like a lifeline.

“Nonsense Aaron. We all have nightmares. Remember what I told you all those years ago?”

He did. It had been the first case he had worked with the BAU that had involved victims of abuse. He and Dave had been sharing a room when Hotch had the first of many nightmares involving cases. Dave had woken him up, given him a glass of water and told him the nightmares reminded him he was human, that he felt, and however scary they were, however the case ended, they had done their best. There was nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Yeah. That if I have a nightmare, I should remind myself of the people that love me and of all the good things I’ve done.”

“Good. So let me start off that list for you, because it’s a very long one. Jack.”

Hotch snorted. “He hates me. I told him he couldn’t go to a party because he’s not old enough and he said I wasn’t really his dad and that it was all my fault Haley was dead. I dreamt about him you know? Foyet. But it’s been two and a half years, I should be over this, shouldn’t I?”

“You’ve always been open with Jack. He knows what will hurt you, and that’s why he said those things. He’s angry. But he loves you. And as for Foyet? He stabbed you nine times. He killed your wife. You don’t ever have to move on, not if you don’t want to. But you have to learn to cope. Let us help you cope. Let me. I’m your friend.”

There was that word again. Friend. He hated it. He didn’t want Rossi to be his friend, not anymore, but how was he ever supposed to look him in the eye and confess that? It would ruin everything. Rossi would probably tell Strauss, who would fire him, and then he would have nothing. 

“Yeah,” he ended up saying.

“Besides, every parent bans their child from doing something. At least you haven’t told him he isn’t allowed to date until he’s thirty or explore his sexuality. And don’t give me that look, you know you would be okay so long as they were a good person and he was sixteen and being safe.”

“I guess.”

Rossi patted his shoulder and Hotch didn’t even try and pretend that the touch hadn’t made him tingle. It had been so long since someone had touched him- it was always him hugging Jack or touching his shoulder. He thought of that time Reid had talked about being touch-starved. Was he touch-starved, or was he just an adult with a schoolboy crush?

He laid awake for the rest of the night, unable to do much more than close his eyes for a few moments.

They found the unsub the next day. And they bought the boy home safely. But Hotch couldn’t find it in him to be happy at another case solved. Because it hadn’t been successfully, not completely. The unsub- a man in his mid-forties- had been abused. And when he saw those children, who argued with their fathers over something trivial, he had snapped. He’d wanted to save them from his own fate. When Hotch tried to explain that the fathers weren’t bad people, that the children didn’t deserve to die, he hadn’t listened. When he tried to relate, the unsub realised what had happened. And seeing no other way out, he’d turned the gun away from Hotch and to himself.

Hotch couldn’t help but shout no as the bullet released.

“Strauss approved us staying for one more night,” Rossi said when they got back to the hotel.

“That was nice of her,” JJ said.

“God, I need a drink,” Prentiss complained.

“We should all go for a night out. It’ll be fun. And I’m here for once, so I can’t even complain about missing out,” Garcia said.

“That’ll be nice. Reid, you’re coming, no excuses,” Morgan said.

Reid shrugged. “Sure, why not. I’ll remember every embarrassing thing you do, so just be warned.”

Everyone turned to Hotch.

“Come on sir,” Garcia pleaded.

“I shouldn’t,” he said.

“Hotch, if they’re making me go, then you have to come,” Reid replied.

“It’s one night Aaron. And you’re not a newbie anymore,” Dave said, placing a hand on his lower back to steer him away from the elevator.

He blushed, both at the incident that was being referenced and the placement of Rossi’s hand. 

“I’ll go if you don’t bring that up,” he reasoned.

Rossi nodded. Everyone else looked curious, but Hotch shot them all his famous glare, with a small smile to soften the blow. And then they left, still in the same clothes they had been wearing as they had packed up at the station.

Hotch had made it a rule that he didn’t get drunk in front of colleagues. He’d drink enough alcohol to keep them off his back, but he wouldn’t allow himself to become even slightly intoxicated when they were present.

Some cases made all the rules go out the window. It was the only defence he had for getting absolutely shit-faced.

At some point he had loosened his tie, so he didn’t really understand why Rossi was complaining so much as he pulled him into their room and started complaining about the way he dressed.

“If Garcia can come on a case wearing a cat-ear hairband, I don’t understand why you need to always need to wear a suit,” he complained after he got the shoes off.

Hotch grinned. “It’s like my superhero costume. It protects me from people finding out who I really am.”

“Wow you really are drunk.”

“Is it bad that I’m drunk? I told Jack he couldn’t go the party because of the alcohol and he said I was being stupid. Maybe he’s right. I am stupid.”

“Why can’t you ever just stick to being a happy drunk? Why must you always go from happy to crying?”

“Are you mad at me too? I don’t want you to be mad at me. I care about you too much. I don’t think I could stand it if you were mad at me. Not when Jack’s mad at me- did I tell you about that? I think I did. He’s mad at me, Haley would be mad at me if she could see me now, so I can’t have you being mad as well.”

“Haley wouldn’t be mad at you.”

“You’re wrong. She would.”

“Oh, really. Why?”

“Cos I told her I liked this person and she told me to go for it but I was too scared of being rejected and ruining the team that I didn’t. At least, that was I told her, which is the other reason she’d be mad. I semi-lied. I was scared of rejection and ruining the team, but I was more scared that they’d be like my father. He caught me with a boy once. Only once. I was too scared after that. It’s stupid though, this person is as far from my father as you could get.”

At the mention of the person, Hotch went back to being happy. Rossi smiled, still wrestling with the suit jacket, unwilling to make his friend move his arms lest he break the spell and made that smile vanish.

“You going to tell me about them or do I have to profile it out of you?”

“Wouldn’t do that,” he slurred. “Too nice to. Unlike Gideon. Gideon never followed the rules. But you- you may be a pain in the ass, but you follow the rules that matter like not profiling us and not pushing and not using our pasts to get to an unsub.”

Rossi snorted. “Thanks Aaron. It’s nice to know I’m not like Gideon.”

“Be weird if you were.”

“Why’s that?” he had got the jacket and the tie off. He untucked the shirt and unbuttoned the top one, knowing Hotch wouldn’t want any more than that done. 

“Cos I love you. I love your stupid notebook and your Italian cooking and your don’t-be-stupid voice and your stupid face and how you’re always nice to me, even when I’m being stupid. I love you Rossi, and I wish you’d love me too, even though I’m a mess who-” the rest of his sentence was cut off by a yawn.

Rossi had no idea what to say. He’d never come out to the team because there had never been a need to. Yes, he had three ex-wives, and only wives, but that was because he hadn’t been able to marry any of the men he dated, and times had been different then. He hadn’t wanted a long-term thing with any of them.

But now, Aaron was drunk and confessing his love, and it occurred to him that he did love the younger man. He had just never realised.

“I’m a mess who can’t get the voice of their father out of their head long enough to ask you out on a date,” he murmured, falling back onto the pillow.

Rossi opened his mouth, but Hotch was already asleep. He sighed, brushed the hair off his forehead and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Sleep well.”

The morning came, and with it, a pounding head.

Hotch woke up with a groan, immediately pressing his hand to his temple. 

“There’s aspirin and a glass of water on the night stand,” Rossi said.

Hotch blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Wha- why do I need it? What happened?”

Rossi stopped, his coffee halfway to his mouth. Hotch looked away. Not the time.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“We went to the bar. I- oh. I drank far too much. I’m sorry. Had the others gone by then?”

“No, but they all agreed to spare you the shame and not mention it. Do you remember anything else that happened?”

“You were the one to bring me back. And after that it’s all a bit hazy.”

“Do you want to try and remember or do you want me to tell you?”

Hotch paled. “What did I do?”

“You told me you loved me.”

Hotch fell off the bed trying to scramble away. He noticed that Rossi had left him in his clothes, thank goodness for small mercies, but the sheet got tangled in his legs. Rossi stood as he managed to stand up, his head still pounding and the light making his vision hazy.

He felt a hand on his arm and managed to force it off. “Just let me go, Dave, please.”

“No. We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to say? I told you I love you. But you’re this amazing, caring, funny, handsome straight person and I’m me. Please just let me go. I’ll file my transfer when we get back, but I can’t be here and watch as you reject me,” he said, walking towards the door.

“Aaron. Stop.” 

He froze. Rossi had never bossed him around, even when he’d been the newest profiler that was still learning the ropes. But god, there was something about his tone that made him want to fall to his knees and do whatever he wanted. He’d been still for too long, Rossi would have realised too.

“Turn around and look at me.”

Aaron wanted to resist, wanted to run out the door and never come back, but something in him- probably the part of his brain that was self-destructive- made him turn back. And the sight that greeted him made his heart stop all over again. Rossi didn’t look angry or upset. He didn’t look like he was about to hurt him or force him to explain why he was such a coward.

He looked happy.

“I don’t understand, why are you smiling at me?” he whispered.

“Because I love you too. I just never realised until last night when you were drunk out of your mind, terrified that I was going to reject you, that I realised all I wanted was to hold you against me, listen to the steady beat of your heart to remind myself that you were still here and never let you go.”

Before he could even process what was happening, Aaron had crossed the short distance of the room and had buried his head in his shoulder. Hesitantly, Rossi bought his arms around the younger man in an awkward hug.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Aaron confessed, staring at him with dark brown eyes, still full of the fear of rejection. 

“We can work it out together.”

“I don’t know how to get over my fear, or tell Jack and the team- and what are we even supposed to tell Strauss, she’ll fire both of us and what about all the other things, like dates and the romantic things,” he rambled.

Rossi pressed a finger to his lips. “We’ll work it out. But that’s not the concern for right now.”

“Then what is?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Hotch nodded, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ve only ever kissed Haley. I doubt I’ll be any good.”

“I don’t want good. I want you.”

Without another word, Rossi placed his fingers under Aaron’s chin and tilted his head up. It was a chaste kiss, barely more than a brush of lips, but Aaron felt his heart speed up and fireworks explode behind his eyes. This. This is what he had always wanted but never had the courage to ask for, and now he had it and he just felt… good.

“We need to brush our teeth,” he decided once Rossi pulled away.

“Agreed.”

“Dave, what are we now? Because boyfriend seems immature, and I plan on telling Jack and the team as soon as possible so don’t even try and suggest lover. And other half is stupid, we’re both whole people without each other.”

“I’d like to think of you as my partner. That’s what we started out as- don’t give me that look you know I’m right- and it’ll always fit us. You the workaholic drill sergeant and me, the agent turned author turned agent-author with three ex-wives.”

Aaron laughed. “I have no idea how that makes any sense but okay. Partners. I like that.”

“It makes sense because it shows that we’re both adults that can depend on each other no matter what happens.”

“No matter what happens,” Hotch echoed.

It was going to be a long journey to undo all the damage his father had done, but he was willing to work through it. He was willing to do whatever it took to let him spend the rest of his life beside the man he could now call a partner.

The team essentially worked it out the moment they got on the jet. JJ just shook her head fondly, Reid smiled and told them that if they needed any advice he was there, Morgan smiled and patted Rossi, claiming he had his work cut out for him, Prentiss actually hugged Hotch with tears in her eyes and Garcia squealed and told them she was going to knit them matching scarves.

It was nice. Unfamiliar and different and scary, but nice. Rossi sat beside him, close enough so their shoulders brushed every time one of them adjusted the way they were sat. Every time it happened, Aaron smiled and blushed a little.

When they arrived back at Quantico, everyone at lot happier than they had been at the end of the case, there was an unfamiliar car in the lot. 

“I haven’t seen that one before,” Reid commented.

“It’s probably just someone for Strauss. Let’s go, write the reports and go home,” Hotch said.

“Home. Sounds nice,” Rossi said.

Hotch went pink as Garcia cackled.

Since Emily’s return, it had become tradition for Garcia to sit with them in the bullpen as they did their reports, mainly to annoy them, and if she had accompanied them, to do her own report as she only managed to do them on the job when she was on base. They all headed to the sixth floor, everyone looking forward to the few days of down time they would have once they finished their reports.

It was still early- or was it late- enough for them to be the only people in the building. As everybody else set themselves up in the bullpen, Hotch and Rossi went up to their respective offices, Morgan still talking to Reid and Garcia about something. When Hotch walked into his office, putting his bag down with unnecessary force, Rossi winced.

“What’s going on?”

Hotch bit down the urge to say nothing. “Jack still doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Why don’t you try phoning Jessica then? Maybe he’ll change his mind once he realises just how much you’re willing to sacrifice for him.”

“Maybe.”

“And I know Morgan drove you in, so once you’re paperwork is done, you’re coming home with me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but this case must have hit close to home. I’m dating you now, which means I’ve signed up for the good, the bad and the ugly. I’m sure Jess would love to spend more time with Jack anyways.”

He knew trying to fight was a bad idea, and the thought of going home to an angry and hurt Jack was almost too much to bear. Did it make him a bad parent? Maybe. But he was tired and he wanted to give Jack space.

“I’ll give you some privacy to phone him then.” 

Hotch managed a weak smile, then dialled his home number. Jessica answered almost immediately. She sounded like she hadn’t slept and he wondered why he thought phoning her at three in the morning was a good idea.

“Hi Jess. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It was a bad case that’s all. I should let you sleep. I’ll be back in the morning, well later in the morning so you can go once you’ve had breakfast if you need to do anything.”

She laughed, and his chest tightened. Her and Haley had been nothing alike, but when they laughed, it was like they were the same person. “It’s okay. I’ll stay for the whole day and let you get some rest. Jack, what are you doing up? Okay, get your water and then back to- actually do you want to talk to your dad?”

He heard Jack say no. Jessica made a few uncomfortable sounds.

“Jess, it’s okay. He doesn’t have to talk to me if he doesn’t want to. I get it.” He got that he was a useless father, that Jack had every reason to hate him and he didn’t understand why it had taken so long for him to start. He understood that he had failed to protect Jack and Haley, and that nothing he did now was going to ever make up for it.

“Are you sure? He’s gone back to his room but I doubt he’s sleeping. I can talk to him if you want.”

“No, just leave him. He’s allowed to be angry.” Because if you speak to him, you will stop seeing me as the angel Haley loved all through high school. You will stop seeing me as the man who has lost everything and start seeing me as the man who can’t be there when his son needs him, and the man that got your sister killed.

“If you’re sure. But before you go, just listen to me. You’re a good parent. And whatever Jack said, he doesn’t mean. He’s a hormonal teenager going through puberty. He loves you.”

“I know.” But did he really love his father? “I’ll see you in the morning then. Bye Jess.”

“Bye Aaron.”

Aaron. Sometimes he wondered where the lines between Hotchner- god, how he hated his surname, forever tarnished by the memory of his father and everyone in their small town who thought that little Aaron Hotchner was just the quietest little boy, just like his mother yet somehow the spitting image of his father, Hotch: the stoic leader that could be trusted with everything and somehow not collapse and Aaron: absent husband and father, the man that had loved and failed Haley, Kate and even Elle existed. 

Sometimes he just felt like that little boy, curled up in the basement of a house that never felt like home, wishing he could just let go and cry for once. But he couldn’t. Not when he was aware that the team were watching him instead of doing their paperwork.

He finished it in record time, unable to look at the images of smiling teenagers for any longer than was necessary. 

Dave was already waiting for him. Everybody else had gone home.

“Are you ready?” Dave asked.

Hotch nodded, unable to trust his own voice after having to read through everybody’s accounts of the victims, their parents and the unsub.

They drove to Dave’s in silence, Aaron having texted Jessica he was going to a friends but would hopefully back by late afternoon. He wondered again if he had made a mistake by letting Dave in. It would only be a matter of time before he realised Hotch was damaged and nothing in the world would fix it.

“Aaron, we’re here.” The sound of Dave’s voice, suddenly soft and gentle, lured him out of the darkness of his mind.

He got out of the car, still not knowing what to say. He wasn’t like Reid, who would rattle off statistics about any given topic when he was nervous. He wasn’t like Garcia who would keep digging a deeper hole when she was in trouble, or Morgan who managed to charm anyone with a few words.

Dave’s house, despite its size, had always felt homely. When staring at the wall where the bullet hole had been did more harm than good- and who was he kidding, that had been every time he’d sat there, surrounded by files- Dave’s house had always been a safe haven for him.

“I’m going to make some light breakfast and then try and get some sleep. Do you want anything? And don’t say coffee, I’m not letting you do anymore work until you get some rest.”

He shook his head, already sat on the couch.

Dave sighed, but he didn’t push the issue. Before he could leave, Aaron turned to face him.

“Dave?”

“Yes?” he was already in the doorway, minutely turning to see him properly.

“I’m having a bad day,” he whispered.

Rossi froze. Aaron Hotchner did not admit that easily. Only to him. Only when he was moments away from falling apart. He did not know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that he was the only one trusted enough to piece him back together. He did not know whether or not he could do it this time. Things were different. He had only ever had to do this as a friend, or as a colleague. Never as partners- and wasn’t that ironic, he was the one to suggest the label but now it didn’t seem significant enough.

He walked back over, sat beside Aaron. Close enough so their feet- Hotch hadn’t even taken his shoes off- brushed, but far enough to let him move away if he wanted. He didn’t. He shifted closer, resting his head on Dave’s shoulder. Dave raised one hand to gently stroke his messy hair. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m meant too, aren’t I? Haley always used to say there was no point in being together if I was just going to hide from her every time I had a bad day. I know she was right, but I just don’t know how to talk about it. It’s stupid anyways.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t act like your problems aren’t as important because you’re supposed to be an alpha male. That’s only at work. Here, we’re just Aaron and Dave, two old men who never learned how to communicate properly, so they’re muddling their way through life.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re here. And I’m scared you’re going to leave, just like everyone else. I’m scared that the ghosts of my past are going to be too much for you to handle and that you’ll get tired of waiting for me to be comfortable around you. I’m scared of ruining what we have with my nightmares and scars. I mean, I have a son who’s a teenager now. You never even wanted kids. And I know it’s stupid, but I’m scared I’m never going to be able to repair my relationship with Jack. We’ve never argued before. I don’t know what to do. My father would hit me if I dared speak out of turn. I never learned how to be normal. What if I hurt him?”

He had curled into a ball, his legs pressed against Dave’s stomach. His voice had started shaking, and Dave felt a wet patch forming on his shirt.

“I won’t leave you, ever. We’re going to have problems, but I won’t leave, and I will spend the rest of my life waiting for you to be comfortable around me if I need to. I have nightmares as well, we can keep each other up. I love Jack and he loves you too. I have no idea how to be a parent, but you do. You would never hurt him. And I’m sure Jessica has already told you this, but he’s a teenager. You’ll know what to do when you see him. If you don’t, just ask him. He wants to be there for you.”

“Thanks Dave.”

“I love you Aaron. You never need to thank me. Now move off of me so I can take you to bed. You need a good night’s rest.”

He obeyed. Neither of them were about to believe Dave was strong enough to carry a fully-grown man to bed, so Hotch forced himself to stand and let Dave lead him to the master bedroom.

“You’re practically asleep already. I’m glad. Would you let me undress you?”

Hotch hesitated, but nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” he whispered.

“I’m so proud of you. If you want me to stop, just say the word and I will.”

He started shaking as Rossi pushed his shirt off his shoulders, the final layer of armour stripped away from him. He closed his eyes, the tremors only stopping when Rossi pressed their foreheads together.

“You survived. You survived them both. And there will be more, there always is, but I will be here to catch you. Believe that.”

Aaron nodded, tears falling onto the duvet. He couldn’t express how glad he was that Dave wasn’t spouting some bullshit about how the scars on his torso and the lines on his back made him even more beautiful. He didn’t know how to say that though, which he was coming to realise the beauty of their relationship: they just knew.

Rossi was tucking him, having successfully changed him into pyjamas without any incidents when he realised he needed to address something from earlier.

“You’re wrong, you know that right?”

Rossi laughed. “About what?”

“Earlier. You said you don’t know how to be a parent. You do. I see it in the way you tease Morgan, curse at Prentiss in Italian, protect Garcia and JJ, listen to Reid and the way you treat Jack and Henry.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He pressed a kiss to the other man’s cheek, then left. There was one more thing he needed to do.

Aaron awoke when he heard voices. It took a moment for him to realise where he was, but when he did, he smiled. Dave hadn’t left. He left the room, trying to find the source of the voices. The search led him to the same couch where he had started crying only a few hours ago.

“Jack!” he exclaimed. 

Jack launched himself into his father’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff, it isn’t true and I love you. I won’t go to the stupid party I swear but please don’t be sad. Uncle Dave told me the censored version of your case. He also told me that you two are partners and I’m really happy about that because he’s cool and I have a vague memory of mom saying you were silly for thinking he didn’t like you-”

“Buddy, it’s okay. Sometimes people argue. I still love you too. And yes, Dave and I are together now but you’re still my first priority. You always will be. So if you need me to take less cases or spend more time at home, then just tell me. We don’t need to let it explode like that.”

Jack looked sheepish. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re my son. You’ll never be a burden to me.”

“Do you promise?” He looked so much like that little boy who believed his father was a real superhero that Hotch could only nod his affirmation.

“Will you stay for breakfast? Jessica dropped Jack here, but she said she’d go to give us some time alone and apparently he only ate a single piece of toast,” Rossi asked, almost nervously.

“Please can we do that?” Jack added.

Hotch nodded, letting go of his son. “Did you want any help?”

“No. Just go sit at the dining table and look pretty whilst you talk to your son,” Dave said.

Hotch flushed but obeyed.

Dave watched as Jack launched into a conversation about the pretty girl in his class and the tension Aaron had been carrying for far too long finally bled off his shoulders and saw as he went from FBI agent to loving father, eyes crinkling as he finally, genuinely, laughed.

There would be bad days. There would be arguments and reckless endangerment. There would be ghosts that would never leave them and fears that couldn’t be destroyed. But Aaron was smiling. And for one David Rossi, that was enough.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch x rossi #david rossi #criminal minds fic #tw implied child abuse #tw violence towards children #tw child death reference #tw suicide #sumayyah writes cm