#jj and hotch?? PLATONIC

[rainforcsts]

“morcia was purely platonic” BRO HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN GARCIA YOU'RE MY GOD GIVEN SOLACE AS PLATONIC

[solisstars]

if I see one more person ship JJ and Hotch I'm genuinely going to crash out

[mulderiloveyou]

Another jotch moment I just need to point out, he had checked on her earlier and he came back again after the case was over, which is okay normal. We’ve seen it happen but it’s the way he speaks to her, idk. He opens up just a bit, is softer. Idk.

[unknowntoyou2205]

Secrets can't always be kept to yourself (Masterlist)

Y/n is a 17 year old girl who, like Reid, graduated early and is now doing an internship with the FBI. Having worked with the young girl since she begun and become impressed with the way she works, the BAU crew took a liking to her and took her under their wing. But no matter how close you become to someone, you never know what they can be hiding, and maybe figuring out the signs can happen too late.

Main masterlist

coming soon

[street-smarts00]

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

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WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

[kimstills]

blame

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader, platonic!spencer x reader summary: in which your close relationship with spencer makes aaron wonder if there’s something going on between you and the young doctor. content warnings: mentions of kidnappings, torture, child abuse (typical cm case stuff), insecurities, age gap, and haley, jealous!aaron (hb is DOWN BAD), he kind of acts like a prick in the middle of this? but it’s v brief and he apologizes!! hints of autistic!spence, angst if u squint but mostly fluff, miscommunication, technically idiots to lovers but hotch is the only idiot <3 word count: 5.1k (this was NOT supposed to be this long omfg) a/n: this was inspired by a dream i had where i was besties w reid and everyone thought i liked him until i had to blurt out that i was into older men… enjoy!!

If looks could kill, Aaron was sure Spencer would be dead by now.

It was contradicting, in a way. How he thought of Spencer like the son that had come before his actual son, yet he was staring at him like a predator stalking their next victim.

You were standing next to the young genius, shoulders brushing against shoulders as you went back and forth with the geographical profile the two of you had been assigned to work on, something Aaron was really regretting having done.

The team had been called in to assist with a case in Portland, Maine, involving an abductor-type unsub. One who would stalk his victims and learn their routines before kidnapping them, torturing them for two to three days before disposing of them in forests and parks all throughout the city.

You and Reid were both tied when it came to your skills with geographical profiles, one of the many things that had blossomed your relationship with him. But with the way the unsub was beginning to rapidly devolve, the rush to develop said profile and figure out his next move had forced Aaron to assign you two together.

Deep down he knew that it had to be done for the sake of the case and all its victims, and that it was the best decision to make as leader of the team.

But, still, he couldn’t help the jealousy that was bubbling from within him, his gaze completely focused on the way you giggled and smiled, endeared, while watching Reid struggle to tape the map one of the sheriffs had supplied you with to a spare whiteboard in the office the team had been given to work in.

He hadn’t even noticed when JJ walked up to him, the blonde hair and white button up she was wearing apparently not enough to break him out of his trance until—

“Hotch.”

Aaron snaps his head towards her, blinking in bewilderment, “Sorry, what?”

JJ stares at him with a look of both concern and amusement, a smile tugging at her lips. Her hand is raised expectantly and her eyes flicker towards the case file in his hands.

He looks down at it, brows furrowing when he finally sees the death grip he was holding the paper with. It’s slightly crumpled from where his thumb had rested, the pages wrinkled.

He clears his throat, trying to soothe out the file as subtly and smoothly as he can before handing it to JJ, “Sorry,” he grumbled.

The blonde chuckles softly, taking it from him and doing her own best to bend it back into place. She begins to flip through the pages, though she can’t help but follow Aaron’s gaze back to you and Spencer.

You had finally gotten up to help him in taping up the map, taking it from his hands and effortlessly doing so before turning around and giving him a cheeky smile.

JJ turns her attention back to him, biting back a smug smile when she sees her boss practically glaring daggers at the two of you, “I assume you’re trying to figure them out, too?” She asks, looking down at the file.

Aaron blinks, this time slowly turning his head to gaze down at her, “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widen at the realization of what she just had insinuated about her co-workers to her boss. She shrugs coolly, trying to play it off, “Nothing. They’re just really close is all,” she gives him a tight-lipped smile before quickly walking away, leaving Aaron more confused than before.

He feels his fingers twitch by his side when he glances back at you. It’s cheesy, the way his heart skips a beat when you tuck the strands of hair that had made itself to the front of your face behind your ears. His hardened features soften at the sight of you laughing at something Reid’s said, something he’s sure only the two of you understand.

Aaron’s not sure what it was that had gotten him to stick out for you like a sore thumb or how his sudden infatuation with watching and admiring you and your every move had happened.

All he could recall was that it happened, and it had happened too fast for him to begin realizing how you had begun to overcome his every thought and consume him with feelings he hadn’t felt since Haley’s passing and his marriage with her.

A part of him had told himself that he wasn’t to blame; not only were you one of the best agents he had ever worked with, but you were the loveliest and wholesome of humans.

You had your rough days, everyone on the team understandably did, yet you never failed to meet people with kindness and patience, something else that Aaron wasn’t used to receiving when it came to his co-workers. And, as much as they loved him and he loved them, even his team members were prone to calling him ‘cold’ and ‘stoic.’

While you, on the other hand would always meet him with fond, bright smiles and greetings, never once avoiding his gaze or running the opposite direction as to ‘not get in his way’ like others did.

You were like the sun peeking out of the clouds after a dark and tremendous storm, shining on him with such warmth.

So, in the end, he couldn’t really help himself from falling for you. Or for even feeling childishly jealous when you were shining your warmth onto others.

Especially with someone who apparently the rest of the team suspected you of dating.

Perhaps he couldn’t blame Spencer for falling for you, too.

Everyone meant well, and Aaron knew he was also victim to cutting him off when the boy rambled, but you were the only one who truly listened to him. Who would interrupt him gently during urgent matters and let him continue after they were solved, and never made him feel inadequate.

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before now that JJ has mentioned it—too blindsided with his own feelings for you—but he begins to wonder, though, if there actually is something more between the two of you.

He likes to think that he begins playing close attention to your mannerism, body language, and shared interactions the two of you have throughout the entirety of the case because he has to. Now that it's been brought to his attention that two of his subordinates might be in a relationship, it's his job as Unit Chief to keep tabs.

So, he watches, when the whole team is sitting in the rectangular table, debriefing with one another and sharing ideas all whilst munching on take out food.

"So, we obviously know that the significance of the victim's being dumped in nature spots is important to this guy," Morgan explains, motioning his hand around the air as he goes on, "but could it be that he kidnaps and keeps his victims in similar spots, just somewhere more secluded?"

"Spencer and I were thinking that that could be a possibility," you say, stealing a fry off of said boy's take out plate, "Maybe he doesn't live in these same places, but he could be taking them to a hidden spot somewhere in the forests, something possibly hidden by debris, wood, or anything makeshift."

Spencer doesn't even blink as you continue to steal more neglected food off his plate, continuing to sort through pictures. Aaron could see Emily and Derek give each other a knowing, smug look through his peripheral.

He manages to swallow, the tip of his middle finger and thumb tapping against one another, "What else have you two come up with regarding the geographical profile?"

"Well, besides where he himself could be living or where he could keep his victims, the whole profile is scattered," Spencer answers this time, sliding the plate towards you as he sets down a picture of each victim with the name of the forests and parks they were found in written underneath. "The first two victims were dumped in a forest, the third in a park, and the fourth in another forest.."

As he goes on, you take advantage to continue eating, the way in which he had just let you eat off his plate despite his known phobia of germs not going unnoticed by everyone else.

If that one wasn't a sign, Aaron didn't know what else was.

*

With the geographical profile being all over the place, Aaron decides on pulling you away from the task the following day, instead pairing you up with him to check out the crime scene of the most recent victim.

He doesn't know if it's the leader in him doing so, pulling you away from your original project he had tasked you to do, or if it's just the mix of both curiosity and jealousy that continues to gnaw at him.

He was a grown man, for Christ's sake. Yet he couldn't help the way his heart churned when you hold his hand for a second longer than necessary after he helps you climb up the small, but frosty hill.

"Thanks," you mumble sweetly, your shoulders brushing against him as you walk past him and towards the await detectives.

Aaron trails behind you, trying to calm his beating heart as the lead detective on the case walks you both towards the victim's body.

"This is the second victim that's been dumped in a park," you start, squatting down to inspect the cuts and bruises on the woman's face. "These sites are obviously more public than the forests, yet he still leaves them in more secluded spots, away from general view."

"Well, we ruled out that he can't feel any remorse or sympathy," Aaron adds while he looks around the now closed off park. "He holds and tortures these women for hours."

You stand from your spot, placing your hands on your hips as you look around the park. Aaron recognizes the face you make as your 'thinking' face, your eyes squinted and your nose scrunched.

"What is it?" He asks, trying to meet your wandering gaze.

“Reid and I were talking about the possibility of the unsub dumping his victims in the same places where half—if not all—of his childhood abuse took place,” you miss the way his breath hitches in his throat and the way his shoulders sag slightly, continuing. “We know that he has to be a local here from Portland—probably raised around these same areas—and that he was abused severely as a child.”

Aaron tries his best to nod as nonchalantly as possible, “Something from his childhood obviously triggered him for him to start abducting and inflict the same pain on the victims before leaving them in similar places where he could have been left as a child after being abused.”

“Exactly,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “We were theorizing around that idea for a while but weren’t too sure if the abuse could play such a huge part on his M.O.”

At the mentions of you and Reid again, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

Not only was he a grown man, but he was also your boss. And you were his subordinate, someone he should never had feelings for in the first place and someone he shouldn’t be feeling possessive over as if anything was to truly ever happen between you.

At first he had thought that Spencer wasn’t to blame for having the same feelings Aaron so strongly harbored for you. But, maybe, you weren’t the one to blame.

For falling for someone more your age, for someone you worked and paired so well with, for someone nobody else made such a grand effort to understand the way you did.

Not only was he a grown man and your boss, but he was also double your age, a single father, and a widower.

Swallowing harshly, he pulls out his phone from his suit’s inner pocket, “I’ll have Garcia check out any reported speculations of childhood abuse in these areas and see if she can narrow down our list,” He turns, using his height to his advantage and speeding off, leaving you completely behind.

You frown, rushing to catch up to him. You halt when you come to the same frosty hill he had helped you climb up and open your mouth to call for his help, but close it back up when you see he’s already made it back to the SUV and is climbing inside.

When you finally climb inside the car after successfully managing to climb down the hill without busting your ass, he’s talking with Garcia.

You wait patiently as he drives, the phone on speaker as he gives out quick orders that your friend rushes to catch up with. You try to take the chance of speaking up once he hangs up with her, but he’s quickly dialing for Rossi afterwards.

You’re quiet throughout the ride back to the precinct, the sudden change in mood too heavy for you to gather the courage to make any sort of conversation. Once parked in front of the building, he gets out right away, slamming the door while you’re barely unblocking your seatbelt.

You make a beeline to the conference room where you find Reid, no longer paying any mind on trying to find Aaron any longer.

Spencer jumps when you hurriedly slam the door behind you, eyes filling with worry when you lean against the wood and stare at the floor pensively, “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” you mumble, pushing yourself off the door and taking a seat across from him. “I just got back from the latest crime scene with Hotch and he started acting so weird after I told him about our theory of the unsub’s dumping pattern.”

“Weird how?”

You move to speak, but hesitate when you realize that going into detail about how cold your boss suddenly acted towards you after being used to receiving such kind—some might say preferable—treatment would make your friend speculate things he, of all people, did not need to speculate.

You shake your head, “Nothing. He’s probably just stressed or tired,” you drop your forehead onto the table’s cold wood, your arms stretched out in front of you. “I know I am.”

A beat of silence passes before you hear a creak and the feeling of a finger press against your index. You bite back a laugh, looking up to find Spencer leaning forward in his own seat to do a ‘finger touch,��� something you had come up with for him after realizing how persistent his germophobia was, even with the people he loved the most.

You smile at him, leaning your head on one of your forearms and pressing your finger into his.

From outside the glass-windowed office, Aaron watches you both, a solemn look on his face.

*

The case is finally closed once you and Spencer’s theory is proven right, the unsub securely put away and the green light to go home given at last. But with the late night icy weather too dangerous for the jet to take off, Aaron orders for everyone to instead turn in for the night at the hotel and head out first thing tomorrow morning instead.

He gives a silent thanks to no one in particular when he finds out it's his turn to have a room all for himself, the rotation always being cheated by Dave, Derek, or Emily that he always forgets who's next.

Shockingly enough, he's ready to turn in for the night, not even sparing an extra glance to any of the files he had brought with him as he prepares for bed. He's just about to sit down when a knock comes from behind his door, echoing throughout his room.

He lets out a quiet groan but stands nonetheless, rubbing tiredly at his face before swinging the door open. His first instinct is to snap at whoever's behind, but that's before his eyes cast over you.

You're fiddling with your fingers, dressed in your pajamas that consists of an off-the-shoulder shirt that dips low enough to show off your collarbone and the very top of your chest, your bra strap in the middle.

And, despite the chilly weather outside, you were wearing shorts. A pair of cotton shorts that peek out from underneath the shirt you were wearing and leave little to the imagination—more so, Aaron’s imagination.

Truth be told, he's seen you in a lot less. Your usual team outing outfits consisted of tank tops, baby tees, shorts, and slightly more revealing clothes.

But this, seeing you in what you would normally sleep in, sends him into a completely different spiral.

You cringe and immediately panic at the thought of having woken him up, "Sorry, were you already asleep?" you ask, taking a tentative step back.

Aaron blinks and clears his throat, the pads of his thumb and middle finger once again tapping against one another, "No," He lies. "I was barely getting ready."

Your shoulders drop and the panic dissipates as a small smile replaces it, “Oh, okay,” you bring your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels, “I just wanted to talk to you. If that’s alright?”

Aaron’s brows furrow though he immediately steps to the side to allow you in, a soft ‘of course’ following.

He takes in the way you hesitantly step in, back facing him and arms still intertwined behind your back.

You’re being respectful, probably hoping that you’re not overstepping with whatever it is that you want to talk about. And though you always are, he can’t tell if you’re nervous, worried, or filled with insomnia that you just couldn’t sleep.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asks when you don’t make a move to sit down anywhere, his hands slightly ajar to his side like he’s ready to reach out and touch you.

God, how he wishes he could touch you.

You clear your throat and turn around, “Actually, I was just coming to ask you the same thing,”

The harsh lines on Aaron’s face deepen when you take a seat on the edge of the bed, glancing beside you as a signal for him to join you.

He swallows as he does so, careful not to sit too close and award you space. His eyes flicker back up at you when he hears your breath hitch.

Seconds of silence pass before you shuffle closer to him, bringing your body forward so that you were staring at him directly.

“Are you… feeling okay?”

Aaron freezes, his movements completely stilling at your question. His mind begins to race with all the possibilities of what could have brought on your question when it clicks.

How he had concurred that you and him were completely different and could never be a possibility, and how he immediately decided that acting cold towards you would shun out the feelings he’s felt for so long now.

Another clear of his throat, he replies, “I’m fine.”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a look that shows that you know he’s not telling the truth.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time more firmly. “I don’t mean to overstep, but you’ve been acting rather…strange ever since you and I got back from the fifth victim’s crime scene.”

Aaron cringes at how your expression turns into a sad one, quickly masking it with one of concern afterwards.

He sighs. He supposes that if there’s a possibility that you and Spencer are dating, now’s the time to ask you about it.

He makes a show of staring directly at you in the same way he does when he’s in his ‘boss mode,’ trying to study your face before he asks the question, “Is there something I should know about you and Spencer?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting.

You’re taken aback, quite literally flinching as if you had been struck. It takes you a few seconds to take in what he’s just asked you, and you shake your head almost as if it wasn’t real.

“I’m sorry?”

The desperation gnaws at him once more, and he’s not sure which side of him wants to find out the answer.

“Are you and Spencer dating?” he asks again, voice somehow unwaveringly calm as he punctuates each word clearly.

Your mouth opens in shock, letting out a sound that’s half a scoff half a broken laugh. You look around the room in utter bewilderment.

“What correlation does my relationship with Spencer have with what I asked you?” You can’t tell if you’re angry or just confused, but you stand from the bed and stare down at him.

Aaron follows your lead, “I never noticed it before until the rest of the team pointed it out, but you two are close. Close in such a way that—” He swallows, “—as your boss, I have to ask.”

Before the rest of the team pointed it out. Of course.

You fully scoff this time, “As my boss, you should know that Spencer and I have always been close,” you concur.

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

Despite your heart hammering in your chest, you force yourself to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“You’re not looking at me, you’re getting defensive, and you’re practically avoiding the question,” he says, his own gaze practically boring into you.

“Hotch—”

“You’re deflecting by saying that I should know that you two have always been close, and while I do know that, you’re still not answering my question.”

It feels cruel of him to press you for answers like this, knowing that there was an easier way to do it.

“Reid and I are not dating!” you do your best to not shout it at him in fears of waking the rest of the team up, fists balled at your sides.

“Then why are you so nervous?” he asks, taking a step closer to you. “Why can’t you still look at me?”

“Because it’s you that I like!”

You slap your hands over your mouth immediately and the room falls silent.

Aaron blinks. Once, twice, three times.

You liked him?

You lower your hands, nervously brushing your hair behind your ears as you look around the room in a state of panic, “I-I’m just going to go,” you mumble and immediately rush towards the door.

Aaron stands the for a second, too frozen to do or say anything before his own panic settles in brazenly. His body moves before he has time to register what he's doing and what he'll do when he reaches you.

He wraps an arm around your forearm just as you open the door, halting you from stepping outside, "Y/N, wait,"

"Hotch, please," you're quick to try and release yourself from his grasp, yanking your arm towards yourself in what results as a poor attempt. "Just ignore what I said."

"I can't do that," he dips his head to try and get you to look at him but you simply avoid your gaze even more than your originally had, your cheeks flushed.

"Hotch, let me go!" you whisper-shout, once more fighting his grip. “I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t need you chastising me anymore.”

“I’m not chastising you, Y/N,” Aaron’s sure he sounds as desperate as you probably feel, but he can’t find it in himself to let you go and ruin his one chance of bringing his feelings to the light. Even if it went against everything he had been telling himself earlier that week.

“Do you not think it’s possible for me to feel the same way?”

Your head snaps towards him, your movements suddenly rigid at his question, “W-What?”

You’re sure that, if your heart hadn’t raptured beforehand, it certainly will now.

Aaron takes you letting your guard down as the chance to bring a hand to your waist and pull you back into the room, shutting the door and thanking that nobody else from the team had emerged from the commotion.

“What do you mean by that?” you’re quick to ask, staring up at him with curious, yet hopeful eyes.

He lowers his head as to avoid your gaze this time, letting out a deep breath. Everything he wanted to do now went against everything he had told himself the day before, when he ridiculed himself for ever thinking that you would like someone such as him or that something could ever happen between you two.

“Hotch,” your voice is firm and you allow yourself to take a step closer to him. You need him to look at you, to give you some sort of clue that he didn’t just say what he said to play you, to get you to re-enter the room just so he could profile you even more. “What do you mean by that?”

Repeating your question doesn’t help him and it certainly doesn’t help the way his heart hammers in his chest, a sound so loud that he’s sure you can hear it from how close you’re standing.

“You like me?” you whisper, dipping your head to try and meet his eyes. How ironic that just a couple of seconds ago you were trying to avoid it.

Aaron shrugs, finally looking up, “How could I not?”

His boyish, yet vulnerable expression makes your breath hitch.

“I said that I had to know if there was something between you and Reid as your boss, but it was just because I was jealous,” he shakes his head, trying his best to suppress an all but amused smile. “It was immature of me, really.”

You shake your head, trying to collect both your own thoughts and everything he was telling you. He had been jealous?

“So, is that you acted that way after I told you about our theory in the park?”

The way in which he left you behind in both the park and in the parking lot of the precinct hits him like a brick, cringing at his actions, "I realized then, when you were talking about what you had both come up with, how compatible you two are. How it would make more sense for you to like someone more suited for you. I'm sorry for how I acted,"

Your heart breaks at hearing his confession, of how he, the same man you practically fell head over heels for after your first meeting, could think that he was unworthy of your attention. If you were being honest, you hadn't been hurt by the way he had acted earlier in the day, only confused as to why.

"Hotch--" you stop yourself. You take another step closer, closing the space between the both of you more and more. "Aaron,"

He snaps his head up at your usage of his first name, the way you said it so gently and naturally getting all his attention.

"I've liked you ever since I first met you," you confess. "I'll admit I was too intimidated by you to fully register what I was feeling, but the more I got to know you, the harder I began to fall. And I fell really hard," you let out a laugh, trying to ignore just how much you were putting on the line right now and how self-conscious you felt with his eyes boring into you.

"You've been with the BAU for three years," Aaron's voice is barely above a breathless murmur and he's sure you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't standing so close. "That's how long you've liked me for?"

You nod, lips pursed, "I never said anything because I thought you would never see me that way, let alone reciprocate my feelings. If I'm telling the truth, I wouldn't have said anything if it weren't for you pressing me into telling you that I was dating Reid."

Aaron smirks despite the warmth he feels on his cheeks, shrugging his shoulders and letting out a soft laugh, "Well, then I'm glad I ended up asking. Who knows how many more years we would've gone like this if I hadn't."

You both laugh, subconsciously curling towards each other when you both double over and bring yourselves even closer than before.

You stare up at him with a warm expression before casting your eyes downwards. You lift your hand to linger above his, the pads of your fingers brushing against the hairs on the back of his palm, "So, what happens now?"

Without breaking eye contact, he takes your hand in his while the other reaches for your waist once more. You let out a small yelp when he pulls you even closer, your bodies now touching and radiating the warmth you both thought you’d never be able to feel from one another.

The next few seconds are filled with bliss when he lowers his head to press his lips against yours. You’re immediately weak, letting go off his hand to place both on his shoulders as to support yourself.

The other now free hand of his comes to rest on your other hip, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts ever so possessively. A whimper escapes from your mouth and Aaron takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, doing so with so much fervor and passion that it leaves you feeling dizzy even with your eyes closed.

Aaron is relentless even after you pull away to catch your breath, the act of kissing you now something he’s inevitably hooked on. He presses kisses all over your face, from your cheek to your chin to your jaw, then all the way down to your neck.

“You know,” you cough out, flushed from the attention, “I told you how long I’ve liked you, but you didn’t tell me how long you’ve liked me.”

Aaron smiles into your skin, immediately recalling when he first realized his own feelings for you. He lifts his head to press a sweet kiss to your lips, eliciting a hum from you.

“I can tell you all the details over either a nice dinner tomorrow evening after we land,” he says, another kiss to your lips. He turns your bodies around so that his back was to bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sits. “Or you can spend the night here and we can stay up all night talking about it.”

His voice is sultry, and the way in which he grabs at your hips to get you to straddle him makes you flush.

“Are you already trying to seduce me?” you ask, mock offense in your tone though you happily take your guided seat on his lap, both knees on each side of his thighs.

Aaron hums this time, brushing your hair back to begin kissing at your neck again, “Can you blame me?”

He already knows your answer, he’s sure. He knows you can’t, because he can’t, either.

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[keirareidss]

father figure - a.h

♡ summary: reader has never had a good relationship with her father, so when hotch shows up for her, she's not quite sure what to do pairing: father figure!aaron hotchner x fem!artist!reader (platonically!) warnings: reader has a bad relationship with her family, crying, tooth rotting fluff, inspired by the episode in the office where Michael goes to Pam's art show wc: 1.5k

You sat on the plane wringing your hands anxiously. The team had just finished a big case in Orlando. It wasn't as bad as usual, leaving the team tired but not traumatized. You were nervous for your art show coming up at the local exhibition hall. You wanted the team to come and see your art because you didn't have anyone else to show up for you. Your family never supported your art, your mom claiming that it just distracted you from your schoolwork and your dad saying that you'll never go anywhere in life. Just ask them. Just ask if they want to go. Just ask.

"Hey-" You cut yourself off, clearing your rough throat. "Uh, does anyone want to come see my art show this weekend?" You asked the team.

"I can appreciate good art." Rossi smiled, reliving some of the tightness in your chest.

"Ooh, I am definitely in." Penelope chimed in.

"I'll try to come." JJ said, glancing at you for a second before going back to typing on her phone.

"Great, I'll uh- I'll text you guys the time." You said, feeling a lot lighter than before. Your team would support you. They were like your family. Of course they'd say yes, they're all great people.

You couldn't wait for your art exhibit. You've been doing art since you were young, a way of coping with your... family problems. It was, as your therapist said, a way to process your emotions. You expelled what you felt onto the canvas and once you were done, being able to step back and look at the piece as a whole, it felt good. Relieving.

Once you got back home, you texted the BAU group chat the time and place of your exhibition. You could barely sleep that night, anxious for the weekend.

It was crowded. Crowds make you anxious. You couldn't help it. Maybe it stemmed from the time your parents left you at the mall and you waited in the crowds of people for them to come back. It took over an hour for them to realize you were even gone.

You looked around the art exhibit, hoping for any glimpse of your friends. After an hour had gone by, you were leaning against the wall, insecurely tugging at your dress. Were you too dressed up? Everyone else was wearing jeans. Was the hem of the dress too short? You were feeling entirely self conscious and it sucked. So far, only two people have come up to completely see your work. One, a sweet old woman who complimented you art and the second, a couple whose conversation you overheard when coming back from the bathroom.

"It just feels bland. Like, there's no emotion."

"Yeah, I get that. Like if you're not even going to try, then why make art in the first place."

"Honestly." He rolled his eyes and they walked away from your art. You crossed your arms over your body.

After nearly three hours and no other visitors, you decided to give up. You pushed off the wall, turning to take down your failed art exhibit when you heard a voice behind you.

"Am I late?" You turned to find Hotch, dressed more casually than at work but still made up nicely. "I'm sorry, Jack didn't want to go to bed." He gave you an apologetic smile. "Did everyone else already leave?" He asked when you didn't say anything.

"Um..." His gaze moved to the art pieces behind you.

"Wow. Are these yours?" He asks, stepping closer to look at your art.

"Yeah." You said dumbly.

"They're amazing. I bet Rossi liked this one, huh?" He chuckled, pointing to one of your pieces. You stayed silent. "These are really good. You're very talented." He said, turning to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you." You stammered out. His expression fell slightly.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, noticing your shifty demeanor.

"No. No, I'm fine." You said. Hotch looked around, noticing how empty the exhibit seemed, many of the guests having cleared out by now.

"Has it been this empty the whole time?"

"No, it was a lot busier earlier in the night."

"Did you get a lot of guests?" He asks, his head tilted slightly.

"Uh... a few." You lied. Hotch stared at you for a few seconds and you immediately knew he was profiling you. Before you could tell him to cut it out, he spoke.

"None of them showed up, did they?" He asked and you knew he was talking about the team.

"Um..." You trailed off and Hotch sighed.

"I'm sorry." He began to apologize and you shook your head.

"Oh, no, it's fine."

"They shouldn't have stood you up-"

"No, really, it's- it's fine." You said, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from his pity. He says your name in that gentle way of his that always makes your eyes well up with tears. "I'm used to it."

"That makes it worse." Hotch said, his voice incredibly soft.

"I'm fine." You chuckle wetly, surprised at how quickly you started to get emotional. He steps closer, putting a gentle hand on your arm. "It's okay." You said, blinking quickly to push the tears back. You look down at your shoes, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, honey." Aaron pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your arms circle his torso, burying your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry." You cried.

"Sweetheart, why are you sorry?"

"... I don't know."

"It's okay." Hotch holds you tight, letting you cry into his chest. Once your eyes were dry, you pulled away, wiping your cheeks and looking guiltily at the small stain on his shirt from your tears.

"Sorry." You mumbled.

"It's alright. I'm sorry no one showed up. They're missing out." You just waved him off but he continued. "Really. Your art is extraordinary."

"Thank you." You murmured. "But, um, I think I'm just going to go." You said, moving to take your art down.

"Let me help you." Hotch said. He was extremely careful when peeling your pieces off the wall. You packed them all up and carried your bags out, Hotch insisting to take some of them. He held the door for you like a gentleman and stood on the sidewalk with you. "Did you drive here?"

"Uh, no, but I'll get an Uber or something." You said, attempting to get your phone from your purse.

"No, let me give you a ride. Please."

"Oh, Hotch, no-"

"Please. It's the least I can do." He was already putting your bags into his backseat. You sighed and got into the passenger side. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Aaron spoke up again. "If I may... why didn't your family come?" He asks, wincing immediately as he realized how nosy he was being. "I'm sorry, that- you don't have to answer that, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no. It's fine. Um... my parents haven't always been very supportive of my art. They always said it would take me nowhere in life."

"I'm sorry."

"No, please, it doesn't matter. They were right." You stared out the window, avoiding his gaze. Hotch didn't know what to say. He'd had his fair share of family troubles, sure, but they were his. He could deal with them internally. He hasn't had much experience with comforting other people in this area. He'd always wanted to make sure that his own son, Jack, never felt that way towards him. He needed to be better than his own father.

"I'm sorry." He says your name reverently. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that and I'm sorry you don't think you're good enough. You are. Your work is amazing. Excuse my language but, it was shitty of the team to not show up for you when you needed them."

"It's fine. They're probably just busy." Aaron shakes his head.

"You don't always have to brush everything off. I know you think that if you act like you don't care it won't matter but I also know that you still feel it. Deep down, you're still disappointed." Your eyes were welling up again. Hotch reached over the console to take your hand in his, squeezing it. You stayed silent until the car pulled up outside your place. You got out, grabbing your stuff from the backseat. Hotch got out as well, pulling you into a hug. "I'm proud of you." He murmurs into your hair. "I'm so proud."

[softtdaisy]

my little secret / Aaron Hotchner

summary. the team thinks you and Hotch hate each other. What you really want is to finally share a hotel room together.

words count. 1,592

a/n. i can't stop writing about hotch, this time it's just pure fluff and hot relationship with your boss

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You and Hotch hadn’t shared a hotel room in months.

You guessed the team was doing yourself a favor by not sleeping in the same room as your boss. At this point, it can’t be a coincidence. You both had the most single rooms compared to the others. And you couldn’t even count the number of nights you shared with JJ, Emily, or Spencer. When you could actually count the number of nights shared with Hotch. One.

You guessed their strategy was built on that. The first and only night you shared a room with Hotch, you had terrible nightmares all night. Meaning you couldn’t sleep at all and were bitter all day. You and Hotch had an argument about this because you couldn’t focus properly with the lack of sleep. He almost put you away from the case, which you refused and cast a chill for the rest of the day.

So from that moment, you never shared another room when you were away for a case.

And you really found the situation ironic. Considering sharing a room with Aaron Hotchner was all you wanted.

You and Aaron had been together for almost a year now. It started before you joined the team, and you had to be discreet once you were a member. But you were nailing the discretion and the platonic relationship when at work. To the point everyone thought you couldn’t stand each other. Even Emily asked you one day if this wasn’t too hard for you and if it ever made you consider leaving.

What they didn’t know was that this night that all thought was the final straw was absolutely not as terrible. You did have nightmares all night long. But you had Aaron’s arms around you to calm you down at each awakening. He didn’t sleep much either that night. Every one of your starts was waking him up, and he couldn’t fall asleep until he was sure you were peacefully sleeping.

Which also explained the argument. You both lacked sleep and were hypersensitive. But, unbeknownst to the team, you made up the same night, once you were back at this place.

Yet, the harm was done. And you didn’t share a hotel room until tonight.

As soon as the door closed, Aaron put you against it to kiss you. With his hands around your neck, his teeth biting your lips, and his breathless sighs against your mouth, this was an eager kiss. One he was dying to give you all day long.

It was already hard enough to watch you working the case—Aaron had a real thing for you in your FBI vest and your hair tied up. But when the team told him that you had to share a room tonight because a) Rossi had enough of not having his own room and b) they thought it would help you make the work relationship better to share a room,.

To which Aaron realized two things. A) He suspected Rossi to know more than he pretended about you both. B) They all really believed you couldn’t stand each other.

But he didn’t care. Because as soon as he agreed to the room organization, Aaron was even more impatient to be at night. To be alone in a hotel room with you, finally. To forget about the case, what has been done and what was yet to come in your arms. 

“Stay silent,” he whispered in your ear before letting his lips run on your neck. Your hands were lost on his tie you were trying so hard to untie. But it was difficult with your eyes closed and your mind focused on the pleasure your man was giving you.

Soon, you were both on the bed, kissing each other with very few clothes still on. You needed more, always more. More than his lips on your naked skin. More than his hands lost on your body. More than his eager eyes that told all about the desire he had for you. 

You were so occupied kissing his chest that you didn’t hear the bang on the door the first time. Aaron did and stopped what he was doing. That’s when you looked up, disappointed, and heard it again. Accompanied this time by someone calling your name. 

“Reid?” Aaron said silently, enough for you to hear.

“I’ll go,” you replied, putting both of your hands on his chest to help you get up. “Stay still and pretend…I don’t know, to be calm.”

He laughed, a little louder than intended. You gave him a warning look to which he replied with a hand up. A very lawyerly habit from him, you had to say. “Sorry. But I’m calm,” he pleaded.

“Say that to your body, love.” 

Before he could reply, you put on the sweater he had just taken off—making sure it wasn’t Aaron’s—and went straight to the door. And indeed, like you expected, Spencer was in front of you. Dancing on his feet, apparently stressed by the situation.

“Hey Spence,” you said, coming outside and closing the door to leave your lover alone. “Do you need everything? Everything’s alright?” For a second, you get scared that something will happen. 

Either to the team or that another victim was revealed. Selfishly, you thought about the man waiting for him and how cruel it would be if you had to leave the room already. 

“Oh yeah, yes it is. For me, I mean it is.” He started speaking very quickly. “It’s just…I was talking about it with Derek, and I realized maybe it wasn’t fair for you to be forced to sleep in the same room as Hotch considering your conflicts. And Derek is ok with that. You can come upstairs and take my room, and I come here and then…”

So they really believed you hated Hotch. 

��Ok, calm down, my sweet genius.” You said with a laugh. “You do realize I don’t actually hate Hotch, right? Like…I’m not planning on killing him in his sleep.”

“But you don’t really get along. We see you talking and arguing, and” he sighed, looking down on his hands like he was trying new arguments to convince you. “I want to help.”

“And I appreciate that, Spence. But we’re good." more than good. “We talked.” and kissed. “Everything is fine, I promise. I can even pinky promise you if you want.”

Spencer finally laughed at your endless tries to reassure him. “Ok, fine. But if you change your mind, call me, ok?” 

“I won’t hesitate to call you at night if Hotch starts snoring.” Spencer nodded and left. 

He still gave you one last look before taking the elevator, making sure you weren’t running to him. But you were still there, just waiting to come back inside. Which you did, once the corridor was free.

When you turned around, you took a few seconds to look at him. Still lying on the bed. You realized how you loved everything about Aaron Hotchner. From his messy dark hair falling on his forehead, his dark eyes surrounded by wrinkles that gave him a safe look, his long nose that he loved to press against your thighs, his gorgeous smile when he was looking at you. To the dark hairs on his torso that were leading the way to every other part of his body that you loved just as much. 

He leaned on his elbows when you approached. “He’s gone?” he asked with a hoarse voice that gave you chills. 

“Well, I hope so,” you started, climbing on the bed and on his lap. “Or he is still waiting outside to join. I can check if you want.” You replied, starting to get up again. But Aaron was fast at grabbing your hips to make you stay.

When you heard him laugh, you considered making more jokes to listen to that beautiful sound more often. But that thought disappeared quickly when he put his hand on your neck to bring your face closer to his. His fingers tangled in your hair softly to maintain his grip. The only thing on your mind now is having his lips on yours again. 

“No need,” he started, brushing your neck with his long fingers. “I only want you,” he mumbled against your lips. This time, the kiss was less eager. It was full of feelings. 

Need. Desire. Love.

He was soft on the lips, less on the hips that he was pressing hard against you. When he started to pull off your sweater again, you knew the night was only beginning. 

Before you realized it, Aaron exchanged your place. You were now under him, with his big body surrounding yours. “You realize that if we argue tomorrow because we didn’t sleep much, the team is really going to believe we hate each other.” You said with a cheeky smile when he started to cover your chest with kisses.

He looked up for a second before going back to your stomach. “I’ll make sure everything goes well then,” he replied, his lips against your skin.

You bit your lip; the temptation to tease him again was too strong. “I also told Spencer that if you start snoring, I'll call him to the swap room.” you added. You brushed his hair like nothing happened.

The look he gave you was so arousing, you didn’t regret a second pushing him. “I can shut you up, you know that?”

“Make me.”

There was no way you would miss the next opportunity to share a room with your boss.

[fallingfavourites]

the fisher king - cm fanfic

summary: Everyone on the team had gotten 2 weeks off. Elle and Derek decided to not waste a second of it and flew away to Jamaica. Hotchner went to spend time with his family. Gideon would most likely be birdwatching in his cabin if you had to guess, he doesn’t like sharing much about his personal life. Neither does Reid who is heading back home to Las Vegas. You stayed at home to relax. no one had expected the terrifying turn this vacation would take.

pairing: bau team x reader (platonic), hints/alludes at spencer reid x reader and elle greenaway x reader

cw/tw: typical cm violence, shooting, blood

word count: 8,568

a/n: basically just follows the fisher king episodes plot, english isn't my first language and im dyslexic so sorry in advance, tried to edit as best as i could! i hope this fic makes sense i dont even know anymore, enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated just dont be mean about it pls

main masterlist - cm masterlist

Everyone on the team had gotten 2 weeks off. Elle and Derek decided to not waste a second of it and flew away to Jamaica. Hotchner went to spend time with his family. Gideon would most likely be birdwatching in his cabin if you had to guess, he doesn’t like sharing much about his personal life. Neither does Reid who is heading back home to Las Vegas. You had just ended up on your couch with a cozy blanket and a movie you had been meaning to watch. A sudden loud ringing made you jump up. Rubbing your eyes so they can refocus.

You had fallen asleep. You would’ve laughed at yourself if it wasn’t for the constant loud ringing. Finally, finding your phone between the blanket you picked up without looking at the caller ID.  “Y/n? Y/n?” It took a second for you to register JJ’s voice as she repeated your name.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m here is everything okay?” you asked, running a hand through your hair. “You need to get to the office. Now.” She sounded serious.

“What happened?” You asked as you vaguely heard someone talk to JJ. It kind of sounded like Gideon. If he came to the office, it must be serious.

“Tell me when I get there, I’m on my way.” You said, not even waiting for her to respond to your question and you hung up. A million thoughts race through your head as you put on a work-appropriate outfit. As soon as you were ready you got in your car and drove to the bau as quickly as you could.

When you arrive JJ immediately walks up to you and starts filling you in. Elle got arrested, Gideon received a head in the mail, Hotch had a strange phone call, and she had just gotten a framed butterfly. “So, someone is targeting the team?” Crossing your arms over your body. You’ve worked for the bau a few years now and have never experienced anything like this.

“You didn’t get anything?” JJ questioned. It was strange. “No, I haven’t.” You replied.

“Huh, that’s strange.” She said what you were just thinking. JJ frowned, clearly trying to think of a reason why you didn’t. “I’ll keep my eye out for anything strange.” You nodded as you told her.

After about 30 minutes of looking over all the evidence the team had gathered so far, Elle, Morgan, and Hotch stepped out of the elevator. JJ walked up to them, so you got up and made your way over.

“Virginia? You mean that son of a bitch is from here?” This is the first thing you hear Elle say as you open the glass doors. Talking about Frank Giles.

“I don’t know if he’s from here, but this is where he flew to. Arlington.” JJ started explaining as you stepped up next to her and Morgan. He gave you a nod as he acknowledged you.

“He’s got a long criminal record. Manslaughter, robbery, rape.” She continued as she read from the file.

“What about the victim?” You asked crossing your arms, “Marty Harris.” Derek filled in.

“Uh, he’s a two-time convicted fetish burglar, registered child sex offender…” JJ read from the other file. “And we have his head.” Gideon interrupted her. “CSU just positively identified the one delivered to my cabin.”

“Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepentant, bad men. They only got what they deserved.” Hotch spoke up. “What is that?” Morgan asked him.

“I got a phone call last night before you called from Jamaica.” He said looking over at Derek.

“Any mention of a ‘her’?” Elle asks Hotch. “You must help him save her.”  he replies.

“Oh, so there’s a ‘him’ now, too?” Elle responds, clearly annoyed. Which is totally reasonable after getting arrested for murder and barely having any sleep.

“I think he means Reid.” You look over at Gideon. “Reid?” You and JJ both say at the same time. “We need to regroup.” Hotch says as last, and you all walk into the office.

You, JJ, Morgan, and Gideon are sitting at the round table. Hotch stood behind you and Elle stood near the tv screen. “So, clearly we have a psychopath intent on drawing us into his game.” Hotch said with his arms crossed. “Playing with us.” Gideon looked at his hands on the table. “Then let’s return the favor.” Elle says.

“He kept telling us repeatedly to save her. What ‘her’?” Derek questions.

“Items he’s sent must be some kind of clues.” You nod at what Gideon says. “Let’s get them up on the board.” Hotch nods towards the board as he says that.

“I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963, and I got a head in a box.” Gideon starts as JJ gets up walking up to the board. “I got a rare butterfly in a shadow box.” She says as she starts writing it down on the whiteboard. “And repeated messages to ‘save her.’” Hotch adds.

“I got the decapitated body.” Elle says smiling sarcastically. “And a nice visit to the Jamaican Police Headquarters.”

Hotch looks over to you to say what you got. “I didn’t get anything.” You shrug.

“Not even a phone call?” He questions, raising an eyebrow. You shake your head. It looked as if Hotch was going to say something, but Gideon changed the subject. “Reid called from Nevada. He's on the way back here with a skeleton key and a note he got, too.”.

“And the guys who called me said, ‘the youngest holds the key’” Hotch adds on. “That’s Reid.” Elle says as she keeps pacing.

“Okay but wait a minute.” You look over at Derek. “Unsubs, they don’t contact us this way. I mean they might taunt us, dare us to catch them, but they don’t drag us into their fantasy.”

“Why not?” JJ asks Morgan when he finishes.

“Because their fantasies are sexual fantasies.” You answer before he can. “Right, taunting us is a show of power, but making us the object is…” He tries to search for the right words, “I don’t know what the hell that is.”

“There’s something else about the baseball card.” You look back to Gideon as he starts a new theory. “Nellie Fox was one of the stars of the 1959 White Sox. I went to almost every game with my father that year. Fox was my hero.” He says as he leans back in the chair. “So, is it a coincidence that he sends this to me, or does he know how I feel about him?” He questions looking over at Hotch. This makes JJ turn around.

“I collected butterflies when I was a little girl.” You all look over at her. “That’s how I knew what butterfly was in the box.”

“So, he knows us?” You question. “I got an anonymous message.” Hotch slightly shrugs. “I got a police raid.” Elle adds on. “But he knew exactly where we were.” Morgan says, supporting your theory. “Hotel in Jamaica Gideon at the cabin, Reid in Vegas, you at your home.” He lists off.

“He got that from the Bureau computers.” Penelope's voice makes you turn around in your chair; she looks nervous and has a file in her hand. “Your locations are always in there so they can find you if they need you. And I checked the log. The hacker was definitely in the personnel folders” She explains. Your brows furrow, how could this happen. “There were room numbers to the hotel in Jamaica, the address of Gideon’s cabin… There’s a lot of information in those databases.” She finished. Something about the way she’s talking is putting you off. There is something she isn’t telling you.

“Have you figured out how he was able to get into the Bureau’s computers?” Hotch asks her. She is silent. Just for a second. “I’m still working on that.” Lying to a room full of profilers probably isn’t the smartest thing to do. “Garcia, if you know something…” Hotch asks, clearly also picking up some things off.

“No, it’s, um…” Penelope's voice breaks slightly. “It’s just… I…” She’s clearly trying to find the right words, scared of upsetting the team. You give her a supportive smile. You’ve known her for years and know she would never do a bad thing on purpose. “I was playing a game yesterday.” She is silent for a second.

You look back to the team and catch JJ’s reaction. She clearly knows what Penelope is talking about. “An online game.” You look back over at the blonde with glasses. Tears shined in her eyes under the LED lights.

“A game?” Gideon asks. “Not on the Bureau computers, sir.” She quickly clarifies. “On my own personal laptop.”

“No, Garcia. No, no, no.” Derek says shaking his head. You close your eyes and lean your head on your hand. “I don’t understand.” Hotch looks for clarification.

“Wireless Internet.” You simply say. “By wirelessly hooking into the Net here to get online, the hacker could have gotten into my computer first, and… I have far less protection on my own laptop.” Penelope stoically explains it to him.

“And he could have gotten into the entire Bureau computer system this way?” You can’t see Hotch’s face as he says it but by the tone of his voice, you have some idea. “Yeah, it’s possible.” Penelope nods.

“Playing a game?” Gideon says as he gets up. “How could you be that stupid?” Seeing the look on Penelope's face, you have to resist the urge to defend her. Yes, she did do something stupid, but Gideon didn’t have to talk to her like that. “Information, files. You have a responsibility.”

“I know, sir. I’m so sorry.” Penelope replies to him. Gideon doesn’t reply. He just turns around. There is an awkward silence that hangs in the air. “But I found him.” Penelope eventually says. Almost full-on crying by now.

“You did?” You ask hopefully. “I know who he is, the hacker. His name is Giles. Frank Giles.” You all look at each other hearing this information. “He lives in Arlington, Virginia, four miles from here. I have his address” She continues as she hands the file she was holding to Hotch.

“Garcia, you said Giles?” Morgan asks her, wanting to confirm he heard it right. She nods quickly. “Let’s go.” Hotch only has to say those two words, and everyone is up and walking out of the office.

The team and you put on your bulletproof vests and got into the black SUVs. Sirens blared as you raced through the streets to get to Frank Giles as quickly as you could. The adrenaline is already pumping through your veins. Finally getting answers about why this is happening. You entered the building with the swat team. Derek kicked the door in, as usual. Everybody walks in with their guns raised. You hear some yell out that it’s clear. You, Derek, and Elle stand for a closed door.

“Frank Giles. FBI.” Derek yells out.

“Come out Giles.” Elle yells. They look at each other and both give a small nod. Then open the doors. As you enter you lower your gun immediately. You see Frank Giles’s lifeless body, only wearing underwear, laying on a dirty old mattress. A sword stuck in him.

“You got to be kidding me.” Elle’s the first one to speak.

“Hotch! Gideon! I think you’re gonna want to see this.” Derek calls out to them. You tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene to look at Elle. But she’s looking at the wall in front of you. So you look up to see ‘here thy quest doth truly begin’ written on the wall in blood.

All of you start taking in the crime scene. Vests already taken off. “He’s definitely playing with us.” Hotch speaks up. “His identification checks out.” Elle says handing his wallet to Hotch. “That’s Frank Giles.”

“There’s a big ol’bag of money sitting right here on the dresser.” Morgan says as he walks over to the bright blue bag. “So, Giles took Harris to Jamaica to kill him.”

“And then the unsub killed Giles.” You finished Hotch’s sentence.

“Yeah, but he paid him first.” Morgan says, confused about it.

“And left the cash?” Elle questions. “He must be well off.” You say, putting your hands on your hips.

“He said these were ‘unrepentant, bad men.’ Are we looking for some kind of vigilante?” Hotch asks, looking over at Gideon.

“No. The bodies are nothing but a way to get us interested. They’re game pieces. The killings are secondary.” Gideon explains nonchalantly.

“Well, this guy likes to write things in blood on the walls.” Elle says as she inspects the bloody walls.

Suddenly your phone starts ringing. All eyes are on you, but you look to Hotch. Silently asking for permission to step out for a bit. He gives you a nod and you step out to the hallway of the apartment building.

When you're alone you answer your phone.

“L/n.” You say but it stays silent on the other end. Pulling the phone away from your ear to check if you hadn’t accidentally declined the call. “Hello?” You ask as you put the phone back to your ear but it’s silent again.

About to hang up suddenly a voice comes through your phone.

“Agent Y/n L/n.” The voice sounds hoarse, you don’t recognize it. “Who is this?” You ask confused. Putting your right hand on your hip.

“It is your task to make sure they hear, and they listen.” The person ignores your question. You release this is the Unsub. “Do not let them stray.” He’s talking about the team.

He has to be. You’re about to respond as he hangs up.

“Damn it.” You let out a frustrated sigh. What could he have possibly meant by that? You keep staring at your phone.

“Hey,” a comforting voice takes you out of your thoughts, “You okay?” You look up to see Spencer walking up to you.

“What?” You look at him confused. Putting your phone back into your pocket. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” You smile, somewhat awkwardly.

Reid nods and sends a just as awkward smile back. It’s good to see him again. He looks around the empty hallway, hands in his pockets, hair slicked back behind his ears.

“Why are you out here?” He asks you.

“Oh, uh, no reason.” You shrug and let out a laugh. Why did you just lie to him? You honestly don’t know. It just slipped out. He also clearly doesn’t believe you, but before he can question you, you speak up.

“Let’s go, we can use you in there, genius.” You say as you nod towards the room the team is in. This time the smile you give each other isn’t awkward. They both are genuine smiles. Reid always gets a slight blush when someone calls him genius.

You never say it to embarrass him though. You say it full of affection. When you joined the bau, in your first case you got paired up with Spencer. He had been working at the bau for about a year. The two of you hit it off very well.

Walking back into the room you hear Hotch and Derek, “Midnight wouldn’t cast a shadow.” “‘Hour be none.’”

“3 P.M.,” Reid says as you walk in side by side. “Hey, guys. Garcia told me where to find you.” Hotch crouched near the body glances past Reid to look at you with a questioning gaze, silently asking about the phone call. You shake your head telling him it wasn’t important. And again, you don’t know why you are lying to your team about this. You tell yourself it’s because there are more important things right now and that phone call didn’t even make sense.

“3 P.M?” Gideon asks disrupting your thoughts.

“It’s medieval. The days used to be broken into hourly intervals, the canonical hours of the breviary.” Spencer begins to explain, “Prime, 6 A.M”., terce, 9 A.M., sext, 12 noon, none, 3 P.M., and vespers 6 P.M.”

Elle smiles at him fondly and points her finger at him, “Reid, do not ever go away again.” He smiles at her as Gideon starts talking. “Medieval. That’s why the language changed. ‘doth’”

“Everything this guy does is a clue.” Hotch says looking at the team.

 “Okay, but, guys, it’s 4:35. What do we do? Leave to the blade in till 3 P.M. tomorrow?” Derek asked.

“What if we block that window out?” You asked, pointing towards the window. Reid nodded at what you said and turned to one of the crime scene investigators. “Do you have any spotlights in your car?” He asked Gina.

“Sure.” She says as she's getting up, Elle thanks her.

When she came back with a flashlight she gave it to Reid. He crouched down next to where you were standing and pointed the light to the sword.

“See, this sun is right here at 5 P.M., Morgan, follow the shadow as I move the light higher.” Derek starts to move a small table out of the way to get closer to the wall. “Okay, and do what?” He asks when he’s finished.

“Tap.” Hotch instructs him. Derek starts tapping on the wall. He stops when he finds a hollow spot. “It’s hollow.” He says as he looks back at Hotch.

“Definitely an Indiana Jones movie.” Elle says looking over at you when you laugh at her joke.

“Feels like the wallpaper’s been replaced.” Morgan says to Hotch. “Tear it open.” He replies. Derek takes a knife out of his pocket and starts cutting open the wallpaper. Pulling back the wall.

“It’s a box.” He states looking back at the team. “Pull it out.” Hotch instructs him again. “Wait, are we sure that’s safe?” Spencer asks as he stands up. You look over at him. “You think it’s a bomb?” You ask him questionably.

“It isn’t. You think he’d be playing this game just to blow us up?” Hotch retorts. “He’d have already done that as long as we’ve been standing here.” Derek agrees with him and pulls out the box from the hole. He placed it on the table from earlier.

Hotch crouches next to Gideon to get a better look at it. You make your way over to see what it is, while Spencer doesn’t move. Morgan tries to open it, but it seems like it won’t budge.

“It’s locked.” He confirms, “You want me to break it?”

“No, we should process it first.” Hotch answers his question.

“The youngest holds the key.” Gideon suddenly speaks up. And you, Hotch, and Morgan all look at Reid. Spencer searches his pants pockets for the key. Only to realize he put it in the pocket of his button-up.

He does a little jog up to the box and goes to open it. Putting the key in and backing up slightly as he turns it. Music starts to come from the box.

It takes a second for you to recognize it. Turns out all those failed piano lessons are good for something. “Schubert.” Gideon says but before he can say which piece you beat him to it.

“The Trout Quintet.” He looks over at you confused, clearly, he didn’t expect you to know it. You just shrug in reply as you focus on the note that Spencer pulled out of the box. “Five people fishing.” Hotch says, giving context to the song.

“Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.” Reid starts reading off the paper. “Well, that was worth it.” Elle says as she turns away.

“The lid.” Gideon points at the box, “Little tab right under the lock.” Morgan leans over Reid to open the lid.

As he opens it there’s a dvd in it, but also a blonde lock of hair tied with a pink bow.

“Jesus.” Slips out of you. “Oh, god.” Elle says at the same time.

Morgan pulls both out as Gideon lets out a tired sigh. Derek gives Elle the lock of hair. “Do you have that evidence bag?” She asks one of the CSI’s. “Here you go.” He replies as he holds out a bag for her to put the hair in.

“Thy quest.” Morgan says standing up and holding out the dvd so you all can see it. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon putting his head in his hand. After everything is mostly wrapped up at the crime scene you all make your way back to the office.

Everyone is clearly tired and wants to catch this guy.

On the car ride back all you can think about is that phone call. It keeps repeating in your head. “Agent Y/n L/n.”  “Who is this?”  “It is your task to make sure they hear, and they listen. Do not let them stray.” You just can’t seem to make sense of it. What is it that you need to make sure they listen to? Maybe this dvd?

Without even releasing you’re back, sitting at the round table. The dvd is playing.

You see a barely lit office. A man stumbles into the frame and sits down at the chair, you can’t make out a face though.

“He moves funny.” Hotch noted. Derek looks back at Hotch to reply, “It’s like he’s injured or something.”

The man in the video starts talking. “I assure you, you will all understand in the end why it must be this way.” It’s the same voice of the man who called you at Frank Giles’s place. You shift in your seat as he continues. “You might even thank me.”

“Don’t hold your breath, scumbag.” You see Hotch glance over at Elle as she says this.

“You know now you’re on a quest. A young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it.” The video shows a blonde girl being held captive. She’s throwing things at the camera and hitting the bars of the cage. “As you can see, she is quite beautiful and in distress.” The way he talks about her along with the footage makes your skin crawl.

“Now please listen closely for there is one rule and this rule must be followed.” You sit up straighter in your chair. The things he said on the phone call must be about this.

“The one rule is, only the members of your team may participate in the quest: Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Y/n L/n, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia.” As he said, all your names and pictures of everyone on the team showed on the screen.

“A quest must be completed in the proper way, or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple. Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you will need to finish the quest. You will find you will also need a book which has inspired many adventures like mine. Believe me, when I tell you I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure for all of us.” The video stopped playing. You look at everyone on the team.

“This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle is the first one to speak up.

“What do we do now?” Reid asks Hotch.

“Well, the lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file.” He answers Reid.

“I’ll get Video to enhance the shots of the girl.” JJ says as she gets up to leave.

“Let's get the clues up on the board. Maybe we can make some sense of something.” Hotch instructs.

“Wait, we’re going to play this guy’s game?” Elle asks him, frustrated.

“Do we have a choice?” Spencer replies. But you’re not focusing on their conversation anymore, you’re focused on Gideon. You can’t figure out what he’s up to as he’s about to leave the room.

Everyone else turns around when they hear the click of the door opening.

“Be right back. You guys keep working.” Hotch says as he gets up to talk to Gideon. However, you don’t listen. The rest of the team looks at you as you follow him.

You’re following him out of the room for two reasons. Wanting to know what’s going on, everyone has always told you you’re too curious for your own good. And thinking now might be a good time to also mention to Hotch that you got a call from the Unsub.

“Jason?” Hotch calls out as he follows Gideon, “Jason!” He calls out again when the older man doesn’t stop. Gideon walks into his office and lets the door slam closed behind him. Before Hotch follows Gideon into his office, he gives you a disapproving look for following him. “We’ll talk about this later.” He says dismissively and walks into Gideon's office.

You let out a sigh. Why did you think this would work. You turn back around to have your walk of shame back to the rest of the group.

Morgan lets out a small laugh as he sees you walking back into the room. Reid gives you a questioning look, but you just shrug it off.

Not long after Hotch handed a paper over to Reid and said Haley received it. You, Morgan, Elle, and Reid had been staring at these numbers for a while now.

“My eyes are so heavy I can barely see it.” Elle says with a sigh.

“It has to be some kind of code, right?” You question, leaning against the table next to Reid. “The Unsub said we needed a book, didn’t he?” Reid brings up. You look over at him, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Yeah. ‘a book that inspired many an adventure.’” Morgan quotes from the video.

“It’s a book code. Each one of these sets of numbers represents a particular word.” Spencer explains and points at one of the codes on the paper, “For instance, page 118, line 30, word three. We need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks.”

“Right, but we don’t know what book.” You respond, another dead end.

“And the trouble is, it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book that he used.” Reid adds on.

“Just got a DNA hit on the lock of hair.” JJ says as she walks into the room, “Rebecca Bryant.” She hands Elle a picture after showing it to you, “She’s been missing out of Boston for two years.”

You look over at her shocked, “Two years?” She nods as she looks at you.

“Guys, how are we supposed to figure out which book this code was copied out of?” Derek brings the conversation back after being handed the picture from Elle. “I have no idea.” Spencer replies. JJ walks up to the whiteboard and sticks the picture of Rebecca on it.

Reid was standing in front of the whiteboard, “He said we have everything needed to complete the quest.” he said as he turned around to look at you, Elle, and Derek. Derek was sitting on the chair backward, Elle practically laying in the leather chair, you were leaning against the table and JJ was sitting normally at the table looking over the evidence.

“The answer’s got to be up there somewhere.” Elle mumbles, very clearly tired.

“JJ, get some reporters here as soon as you can.” You quickly turn around as you hear Gideon say this. Alarm bells going off in your head.

Once again, the things the Unsub said on your phone call repeating themselves. It is your task to make sure they hear and they listen. Do not let them stray. Gideon’s not listening. “For what?” JJ asks him. “Just say we need help on a new case.” Is all he gives in response before he walks away.

You get up to follow him, again. You have to stop him from doing this. Gideon is always surprisingly fast for his age. You just barely catch up to him when he reaches Hotch again. “Sirs, you can’t do this.” You say, well it more sounds like you're begging.

Gideon and Hotch, both give you confused looks.

You take a deep breath. “He called me.” You say looking at them.

Their reactions are exactly what you expected. Gideon stays silent, he’s profiling you. “What? What do you mean he called you L/n?  When did this happen?” Hotch asks you with a stern look on his face as he crosses his arms. You feel ashamed. You should’ve told them. You know that. You just hoped you had figured out what he meant earlier so you could’ve given the team helpful evidence and not more questions. “Back at the apartment.” You say, placing your hands behind your back so they don’t notice how nervous you are.

Gideon just shakes his head and walks away. Obviously thinking he has better things to do than deal with you.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Hotch asks you.

“I… I don’t know,” The unsatisfied look Hotch gives you makes rethink your answer, “I wanted to figure out what he meant.”

“So, you could show off?” Hotch fills it in for himself. You quickly shake your head. That’s not why you did it. “No, no I didn’t want to add more unanswered questions for the team.” It sounds stupid and you realize that.

Hotch sighs and rubs his forehead, “What did he say to you?”

“He told me to make sure they hear, and they listen and to not let them stray. I think he was talking about the video.” You reply to him, “I think the press conference is a mistake, Hotch.”

“Gideon knows what he’s doing L/n, I trust him. You should’ve told us sooner.” He says before walking away. You couldn’t shake the nervous feeling. You went to get some coffee. Not ready to face your team yet.

On your third cup, you see Hotch walking back into the office. The press conference is over, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You see Elle walking out with Hotch.

“Anderson, take Greenaway home.” He says, looking over at him. “Yes, sir.” Anderson immediately replies.

“No, I’m fine.” Elle protests. “I’ll have your car brought over later.” Hotch tells her. “Alright, come on, Anderson.”

Do not let them stray. It repeats in your head.

“Sir, is it okay if I go with them? I can come back whenever you need me.” You ask Hotch. He hesitates for a moment, thinking it over. Elle smiles over at you, she appreciates it.

“Alright but keep your phone on and close L/n.” Hotch tells you.

Elle was struggling to stay awake the whole drive back to her house. Anderson dropped you both off and went back to the office. Elle let you into the house. You’ve been here before, many times, you and her occasionally have a drink after a case when neither of you wants to be alone.

Elle tosses her keys on the coffee table and drops her bag next to the couch and flops down on it. You can’t help but let out a laugh. She doesn’t even have the energy to glare at you, shifting on the couch to get into a more comfortable position.

You put down your own bag next to hers and take off your gun and gun holster placing them next to her keys on the table. You walked into her kitchen, you hadn’t eaten yet and doubted she had.

Opening the fridge just to find it practically empty. There are some leftovers, but they don’t look edible anymore. You grab them to throw them away, the smell hits you and you pull a face.

“Gross.” You mutter under your breath and throw it in the trash can. “Hey, I'm going to get some food, you want any?” You ask her as you walk back into her living room.

She lets out a noise that’s something between a hum and a groan.

“Alright, I’ll take that as a yes.” You say with a smile on your face, “I’m taking your keys, I’ll be right back.” Reaching for her keys on the table.

She gives you a thumbs-up while trying to stifle a yawn.

So, you lock the door behind you as you leave for the small supermarket near her house. It’s about a 10 minute walk away.

You grab some iced coffees and some simple heat-up meals. You’re done in about 5 minutes, pay for everything and walk back. The plastic bag is heavier than you expected it to be, it leaves imprints on your fingers.

You reach Elle’s front door and reach for the keys in your jacket. You try to open the lock as quietly as you can, not wanting to wake her up.

As you open the door you freeze. The plastic bag somehow becomes ten times heavier, and it drops to the floor. The ice coffee starts to leak but it’s the least of your concern.

Elle is laying on the floor covered in her own blood.

“Oh my god…” You whisper. You rush forward to her somehow without falling over your own feet. You fall to your knees. Hands reach up to her face. She isn’t conscious. You give her a few taps on her cheek and her eyes flutter slightly.

“Shit, Elle. You gotta stay awake, okay?” You look around helplessly. Her phone is on the floor next to her. Did she call 911?  You place one hand on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, knowing it isn’t doing much as you feel the red hot liquid slip right past your fingers.

You reach over her to check her phone. Luckily you know her password.

You check her out going call and see 911. A sigh of relief escapes you.

Help is on the way. You just have to do everything you can to keep her alive until then.

Blood is staining your hands as you try to stop the bleeding. Her eyes closed.

“No, no, no, no, Elle, stay with me. Come on, you gotta keep your eyes open. Keep them open for me. Fuck. Elle. Come on. Please… I… I can’t lose you. Please.” A million things ran through your head. If you had been here, you could’ve stopped him.

If you hadn’t left, Elle would be okay. God, why did they have that press conference. Why hadn’t you been more demanding with Hotch that it was a bad idea.

Vague sirens interrupted your train of thought. Taking one hand to check Elle’s pulse. Time stopped. You couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“Fuck.” Panicking. What would cpr do if she was bleeding out? Not like you had any other choice. You started compressions.

No thoughts run through your head anymore. Just pure focus on the task. Not even noticing the sirens getting louder and louder.

A paramedic pulls you away from Elle. Only now realizing they had arrived. Their mouths were moving but you couldn’t make out any of the words.

You stepped back. Letting them do their job.

Everything is hazy, you blink rapidly. Tears fall on your cheeks.

Have you been crying this whole time? You didn’t even realize it. They place Elle on a stretcher and make their way back to the ambulance. You follow them without saying a word. You don’t think about the fact that your phone is still in your bag.

Getting ready to step into the ambulance you noticed a car arriving. Anderson. He stumbled out of the SUV.

“L/n, what happened?” He tried not to show his fear but the tremble in his voice gave him away. “Call Hotch. Meet me at the hospital. I- I’ll explain there.” You spoke hurriedly while getting into the ambulance.

The paramedics are rushing the stretcher into the ER. You’re having a hard time keeping up with them. The doctors take Elle over.

“I’m sorry, we are taking her into surgery. You aren’t allowed any further.” One of the nurses is holding you back. You have no fight left in you, so you just nod and make your way to the waiting room.

Anderson is already there. His eyes are red. Had he been crying? He looked like a mess. You didn’t even want to think about what you looked like right now. The way Anderson’s eyes widened when he saw you back at the house told you enough. You definitely looked worse than him.

“I called Hotchner. Him and Agent Gideon are on their way now.” Wringing his hands as he spoke. He’s nervous. “Do you... um, do you know anything yet?” He barely could get the question out without tears threatening to spill.

“She’s in surgery.” Was all you could manage to get out as you spoke. Wanting to run your hand over your face but as you reached you noticed the deep maroon stains and how much it was shaking so you put your hand back down.

“If you want to, I can wait here, so you can get cleaned up.” He offered. You gave him a thankful but tired smile.

Making your way over to the bathroom. The door handle stuck to your hand slightly, leaving a slight red imprint on it.

You let out a heavy sigh, resting your head against the door as you closed it behind you. Walking up to the sink you didn’t dare to look into the mirror.

You turned on the faucet and put your shaky hands under the ice cold water. The water colored red instantly. You tried not to think about the fact it was Elle’s blood you were washing off.

Keeping your hands under the water until it turned clear again made them start to tingle from the freezing water. Turning the faucet off, you placed your hands on the sides of the sink. Not daring to look at your own reflection.

Involuntarily you let out a shaky breath. Trying to recollect yourself.

Hotch and Gideon would arrive any moment. They would have questions for you. Questions that would force you to think back to what happened not even an hour ago, while all you’ve been trying this whole time is to forget about it. You couldn’t bear to try and remember.

You dried your hands and walked out of the bathroom, scanning the waiting room for Anderson. He was talking to two men in suits. Two men you could recognize anywhere. How did they get here so soon? How long had you been in the bathroom? You looked at your wrist. The face of your watch is stained with blood. You quickly pulled the sleeve of your jacket back over it.

“It appears she dialed 911 herself before she passed out.” You hear Anderson say as you get closer to them. Hotch and Gideon turned around when they noticed Anderson's gaze shifting to you.

The pity and maybe even guilt that Anderson feels when he makes eye contact with you is clear on his face. Or maybe it’s clear to you since profiling is your job, but then how come you couldn’t prevent Elle from dying. No. She isn’t dead. Not anymore. The paramedics shocked her back to life. She’s alive. She’ll be okay. She has to be. You would never be able to live with yourself if she wouldn’t be. Hotch keeps his eyes on you for a minute while Gideon turns back around.

“Why weren’t we notified?” He asks Anderson.

“The offender apparently took her ID and gun. The uniform I talked to didn’t even know she was in the Bureau until I arrived on scene.” He replies to Gideon quickly.

“Get back over there.” Hotch says turning back to look at Anderson. “This is a federal crime scene. Nobody touches anything. We process it.” He instructs the younger agent. “Go.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson replies as he leaves to go and do exactly what Hotch told him to.

The two agents turn back around to observe you. You are staring into space; your mind is clouded. Nothing feels clear anymore. Hotch and Gideon glance at each other. Both concerned with the state you’re in currently. Gideon takes out his phone and walks a few steps away, going to call the office.

“L/n? Hey L/n?” An authoritative, yet comforting voice made you reorientate. Hotch squinted his eyes and ever so slightly tilted his head. He was profiling you. And you would’ve noticed if you weren’t so tired.

“Sorry, what were you saying sir?” Crossing your arms over each other.

“You’re lucky you weren’t there as well.” He said touching your shoulder. But you didn’t feel lucky. All you felt was guilt, but you simply nodded. “Is there anything you remember?” He crosses his arms just like you did.

“I-” You choke on your words. You close your eyes and shake your head trying to get your thoughts in order. “I wasn’t even gone for 30 minutes. If I had just… If I hadn’t left, she would be okay.”

“If you had been there, he most likely would’ve shot you as well L/n.” Hotch tells you. Before you can say anything, else Gideon walks back over to the two of you.

“Trap and trace got nothing.” He says leaning against the wall and putting his phone away. “Unsub used a disposable cell.” You look confused at that. Hotch notices.

“The unsub, he called us. Taunting us about Elle.” He explains to you. You let out an exhausted sigh. It’s as if this case never ends.

“We got our best CSU team. If he left anything, a print, a hair, sweat, anything…” “They’ll find it.” Gideon cuts Hotch off. You look down at your hands, they are still shaking.

“I’m going to grab a coffee.” You mutter out and leave the two agents.

After grabbing your coffee, you go and sit in the waiting room. It is completely empty. Would you rather have it be busy? You’re not sure which would be worse. Because now you must sit here in this hurt. This constant tight feeling in your chest, as if you’re not getting enough air.

A few minutes later Gideon walks in. He nods at you as you look at him. He sits down a few chairs away from where you’re sitting, giving you some space. You sit in silence, it’s not uncomfortable but it also isn’t exactly comfortable. “Hotch is calling JJ and Morgan.” He says, explaining where the other agent is. You just nod, not having the energy to reply. You look down at the coffee in your hands, you haven’t taken a single sip. It’s pretty much cold now. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon scrabbling things down on the magazines that lay down on the table. You don’t ask him about it.

After a while, Hotch walks in and you look up from your drink. He’s gotten rid of his suit jacket. “Any word?” He asks Gideon.

“Nope.” Gideon replies simply.

“I called JJ. I told her we’d call them if anything changed.” Hotch tells the two of you as he leans on the two chairs in front of him. Gideon and you simply nod at what he says.

“What’s all that?” Hotch asks as he notices the writing on the magazines.

“This unsub’s extremely organized.” Gideon explains instead of answering his question, “He sounded truly shocked that we didn’t follow the rules. He honestly believed we would simply listen to his directions.”

“He’s delusional. He thinks he’s a mythological king.” Hotch says, his eyebrows furrow slightly.

“But delusion and this level of organization are almost mutually exclusive.” Gideon corrects Hotch, “You don’t meticulously plan contacts in the real world if you’re suffering psychotic breaks from reality.” Before Hotch can reply to Anderson walks back in. “How is she?” he quietly asks. You stare back down at your coffee again.

“No word yet.” Hotch replies to him, “Is the scene processed?”

“They’re finished. We still have it locked up tight, though.” Anderson explains.

“They find anything?” Hotch asks, he sounds exhausted.

“CSU found a partial print.” You look up as Anderson says this. “The shooter wrote a message on the wall in blood and,” He did? How did you not notice that? Hotch and Gideon glance at you just for a second, probably thinking the same. “In one of the smudges, they found a whorl pattern.” Anderson hands over the file to Hotch. “They made a lift. They aren’t sure whether it’s enough to get a hit, but they are processing it now.” Anderson continues as Hotch hands the file over to Gideon. You get up from your seat, still holding your coffee, you walk closer to Gideon to look at the file.

He grabs the top picture of a bloody fingerprint to reveal what the unsub wrote on the wall. RULES. Dripping down the wall. You try to think back as hard as you can but don’t remember seeing it. You should’ve seen it. Gideon reads what’s on the picture and looks up at Hotch. He places the file back down on the table in front of him.

Hotch leaves to get coffee. Leaving you and Gideon alone again. You go to sit back down in the chair but stop.

You can’t help the words that slip out of your mouth. “You shouldn’t have done the press conference.” You turn around to face him. “I tried to warn you.”

Gideon doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at the file. You want to yell at him. Scream that it’s his fault. But you bite the inside of your cheek.

“I was just doing my job.” He says quietly, so quiet it’s barely a whisper. You can’t help but let out a scoff and stare at him. If looks could kill Gideon would be six feet under by now. You respect him, you truly do, but he made a bad call and can’t own up to it.

The reasonable part of your brain tells you, you are projecting your own feelings of guilt and anger on him, but you don’t have it in you to be reasonable right now. So, you storm out of the waiting room. You throw your coffee in a trash can as you walk past it. Hotchner passes by you with two coffees in his hand, he’s put his jacket back on, he raises an eyebrow when you don’t acknowledge him. He looks back at you but keeps walking back to the waiting room.

You let out a frustrated sigh. You notice one of Elle’s doctors and go to ask if they have any new information.

She just tells you the same thing, “No, I’m sorry.” And she walks away.

You just wish someone could tell you something, anything. You’re tired, exhausted, angry, sad, terrified, guilty. Your eyes start to sting as you try and hold back your tears. You look around and walk into the nearest bathroom.

When the door closes the damn breaks and tears fall down your face. A sob escapes you and you place your hand over your mouth. You try to focus on your breathing to try and calm down. It works a little bit.

You decide washing your face might help you get grounded again, so you walk over to the sink. Turning it on and putting your hands under the water. Somehow the water of this sink is even colder than the one from before. You cup your hands under it and splash the water on your face.

You reach to grab a towel to dry your hands and face but catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look even worse than you imagined. Your mascara is all over the place and so is your hair. There even is some dried blood on your face, you quickly scrub it off with a damp paper towel.

So many thoughts and feelings have been racing through your head over the past few hours, you can barely keep up with them. Did you overstep with Gideon just now? Possibly. You just couldn’t handle bearing all the guilt you were feeling anymore.

Before you leave you check yourself in the mirror again. You look… less chaotic to put it nicely. You smooth over your hair and clothes and walk out of the bathroom.

You start looking for Hotch and Gideon but only find the latter. He’s staring into space, the thing you’ve seen him do all day. You look around before approaching him, hoping to find Hotch instead.

“Hey…” You clear your throat as you stand next to the chair he’s sitting in. He takes a second to look up to his left and gives you a nod of acknowledgment. A certain awkwardness flows between you two. Neither saying a word.

His fingers are interlaced, resting on his lap. He’s trying to appear calm and collected, but his shaking knee is giving him away.

There’s a free chair next to him. You debate with yourself whether you should sit down or not. Gideon nods over to the chair as if he was reading your mind. “Just sit down, kid.”

A quick nod is all you give him in response as you go and sit down.

After sitting in this silence for a few minutes, you speak up. “She’s going to be okay right?” You rub your palms over your thighs, trying to shake the nervous feeling.

“Greenaway is strong, she’s a fighter.” He doesn’t know if she’ll be okay. He is probably as terrified as you are right now. Once again, you just nod. You wring your fingers. Letting out a sigh, you look over at Gideon.

“Sir, I’m sorry if I overstepped…” He looks over at you with a raised eyebrow, “Earlier, in the waiting room.” You remind him.

Gideon nods, he hadn’t expected you to bring it up again. He wasn’t mad at you; he was mad at himself. He should’ve listened. And he would regret the choice he made, along with all the other choices over his career. Gideon waved his hand at you, telling you that what happened didn’t matter.

You and Gideon sat in the hallway for another half hour before a doctor finally approached both of you. Hearing the news a sigh left you. Relief flooded your body.

Elle is okay. Elle is alive.

Gideon went to call the team as you followed the doctor. Elle was laying in the hospital bed. She looked peaceful. You can’t remember the last time you saw her this relaxed. You approach her bed and sit down in the chair next to it. All the memories of today wash over you again, the thought that you could’ve lost your friend. You wipe away a single tear that falls.  

Gideon walks up next to you after a few minutes. Laying his hand on your shoulder.

“They caught him, he’s dead.” You turn around to look at him, “They saved Rebecca.” You look back to Elle as you nod at what he says. Part of you wished you could’ve been there with the team. Gotten some justice for Elle. But you were where you needed to be. Right here. In the hospital, sitting next to Elle as she wakes up.

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ you're still a traitor : criminal minds x fem! reader [ pt. 1 ]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader (unrequited) | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: being in love with your boss was hard. especially when there were so many factors surrounding you that made the possibility of being with him, out of the question. for starters, there was your age gap, and hotch was a stickler with baggage that he couldn't quite disclose to you. hotch was a fantasy, always out of your grasp, that is until emily dies. in the four months that followed emily's death at the hands of ian doyle, you found yourself living a life that you'd only ever dreamed about. hotch was careful, but the proof was right in front of your face as he went out of his way to care for you while you grieved. how stupid of you not to realize something was horribly wrong. but now emily was back, and hotch was back from reassignment in pakistan, and you were all on trial, and absolutely nothing makes sense except for the bitter understanding that you were a pawn in a game that in so few words was "way bigger than you." but at least you had spence.

content warnings: this is literally a barrel of angst. reader breaks the skin of her palms with her nails. mentions of slight! anxiety. follows the plot of "it takes a village" aka the iconic "this is calm, and it's doctor" episode. flashbacks x present day! spencer has been crushing on reader for as long as she's been crushing on hotch. hotch is NOT romantically interested in reader. slight! hotchniss vibes (but that's up to your interpretation. jj x reader angst! reader does not react to emily's return well. mentions of unit transfer / bureau resignation. spencer confesses to reader... open ending making room for a part 2! heartbreak, drinking, crying. best friend! penelope garcia + derek morgan. reader has a sister & niece.

read part two right here.

Your leg shakes violently as you sat just outside the court room, hands balled into tight fists as your nails press deep into the callousing skin of your palms. You couldn't say you were nervous, as far as the previous case was concerned you'd done everything you could to save Declan. You'd take whatever suspension they'd throw your way without batting an eye. You didn't regret the part you played, no, you just regretted the team that you were apart of.

It had been a crazy seven months. You remembered when things turned left, back when Emily started acting weird. She was shorter, snappier, she had less patience with any of you. Long gone were the days of wasting your time with jokes and innuendos. She had a lot on her mind, a lot none of you were privy to, and you remembered how you'd stretched yourself. You'd all tried so hard to show her you were there, to let her know that you could be trusted.

Your face contorts into a scowl, it had become your new resting face in the last few weeks. God, you hated how stupid and naive you'd been back then. Now that everything was out in the open, it was almost too obvious where the deception began. What was the point of taking care of people who had no trouble treating you like some disposable pawn piece to be moved to fit their whims. Damn. You were crying again, you'd been doing that a whole lot too lately.

You scrub furiously at your face, and you hate your teammates a little bit more. JJ had gone first, face devoid of any timidity or uncertainty. Long gone were the days of Jennifer Jareau the Liaison, she was a profiler now, one of you. When she'd come back, you'd been ecstatic. The unit hadn't been the same since she was transferred, you'd missed her so gravely. But now, now the sight of her just reminded you of the secret you'd been holding on the tip of your tongue.

Hotch wasn't the only one who had known about Emily.

You feel a hand moving to rest on the top of your thigh, and you flinch violently. You sniffle audibly, eyes moving to rest on Penelope, your God-given solace. Your best friend. She, Derek, and Spencer were the only ones who wholeheartedly understood what you felt. But even still, Hotch hadn't used their feelings to make them blind, the way he had done with you. He'd played you like a goddamn fiddle, and you'd let him. Because you were weak, stupid, grieving, and in love.

Hotch had never been in the cards for you, not that you weren't beautiful, gorgeous, an amazing agent. You had the stamp of approval of both Agents Gideon and Rossi. Erin Strauss had been (by your request) rejecting every request of transfer any other unit had tried to offer. You were an asset to the bureau, and a major part of this team. You'd been around since the beginning. You'd witnessed doe-eyed Spencer Reid join at age 23, full of facts and anxiety.

You'd seen Derek blossom and break out of his play-boy persona, and become someone that other branches of the law fought to have. You'd been around for so long, you'd witnessed so much, and Hotch knew that. Which you suppose is what you allowed yourself to believe was the reason he'd never shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. He was respecting your future, leaving your options open. But those were the delusional musings of a girl in love with someone she can't have. Hotch wasn't into you, and you knew that.

So why, why, why did you let him convince you of the opposite? For even one measly second? And, yes, of course in the grand scheme of things you understood why he did what he did. But it didn't make it hurt less. In fact knowing his duty to Emily outweighed his duty to anything else just made this whole ordeal feel more like a slap to your face. Penelope gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze, and you're pulled from your running mind. You blink, registering her worry.

"Are you alright?" she asks, and it's the first time anyone's asked you that since the first day. You know they were giving you space to cope, which only seemed to reaffirm your feelings of betrayal and loneliness. "We'll get out of this, alright? And we'll-we'll be able to be a complete family again." she proceeds, and serves you right for believing someone understood what was going on. They'd all misunderstood you. They thought your behavior was fear of the team being dismantled. Some profilers you were surrounded by.

"I'm fine, Garcia." you say, and you can't bite the snippiness if you wanted to. "I just want to get this over with, and get the hell out of here." you add, and you're standing up, Penelope's hand dropping limply as you move your seat. You find a more isolated corner, plopping back into the uncomfortable seat, as the legs squeak slightly. Your leg is back to shaking, only now you've taken to chomping on your bottom lip. You don't imagine Penelope's hurt expression, you know without a doubt that you'll cave. And you can't.

Not this time.

Your phone chirps in your pocket, and you jump once more. Your jumpiness was a new attribute triggered by the amount of sleep you hadn't been getting. Pulling it out you see that it's a call from your big sister, and you curse under your breath. You were supposed to be watching your niece so your sister could pick up an extra shift. None of you had really expected for things to go this far.

"Hey..." you wince, because you can hear the heaviness of your feelings ladled over your words.

"Hey, are you alright? I got a call from Spence." and you're surprised. You look up, searching for the brunette anywhere in the vicinity, and find that he hasn't shown up yet. It's a bit of a shock, especially for someone as punctual as Reid. You did however spot JJ still meandering about, and she's not looking tense at all. Despite your anger towards her, you couldn't deny that she'd quickly fallen into the role of a profiler. It fit her almost like a glove.

"Spencer called you?" you ask, and you hear the tension in your sister's sigh. You imagine that she must be exhausted. Your sister did a lot, and managing a blossoming family was hard. Your niece was five, and she had a new addition to the family on the way. Which was why it was so important for you to be there on the days she needed you to watch your niece.

"Yes, he said something about..." your sister lowers her voice. "Emily." she questions, and you find your head nodding despite the fact she can't see you. "Are you alright?" she asks again, and this time she emphasizes how important it is for her to hear directly from your mouth the state of your wellbeing. Your sister seemed to always see right through you, it was a wonder she wasn't the one in the FBI.

"I'm-" you trail off before you can lie. "I'm sure if they could they'd disband the unit." you whisper, and you look up just as Derek is exiting the court room, Penelope looking terrified as she takes his place. Derek scans the room before he spots you, and his eyes soften. JJ approaches him and the two seem to chat animatedly. Still they look so serious, there was no room for smiles and banter today.

It's not long though before they're looking at you again, and you know that they know. Your self isolation wasn't something you were exactly being subtle about. You immediately look away, focusing in on what your sister was saying. "Bad decisions or not, they're no good without your unit." she says, and pride still manages to swell up inside of you. "You guys do good work. You work because you're together, everyone plays their role." she proceeds, and it's then you shatter.

Play your role. What role exactly did you play? Hotch was the stoic leader that somehow seemed to play the role of pseudo-father so well for every member of the team, with the exception of Rossi and Derek. Derek, was the shoe-in for promotion. The older brother who teased you relentlessly, but would fight til his last breath to protect you, and he always did. JJ, the pretty girl. The one who everyone on the team at some point had been attracted to. But more than that, she was resilient, a subtle glue that kept your unit running.

You quickly slot through everyone else's roles in your head, and huff. What were you except the odd-woman out. The dummy with a crush on your unit chief, and too much knowledge for your own good. You supposed that was why Hotch had to distract you with exaggerated gestures. If you got out of your feelings and really thought about it, you knew that if anyone on the team was going to see through the smoke, and uncover the truth about Emily, it would be you.

So he had to handicap you. What better way than by hanging the possibility of a romance in your face. Still, it was cruel. Just more proof that this was not the family you made them out to be. "Yeah, I'm not so sure." you reply, and you can hear how disgruntled you sound. It smacks you like a ton of bricks, and it's then you truly realize just how hurt you were by everything. Your sister sighs deeply, and it makes you second guess yourself. Were you being irrational? Unfair?

"I know what Hotch did." she begins, "And it was awful to play with your feelings like that." she expresses, and you feel validated. "And nobody's expecting you to just welcome Emily back with open arms after months and months of thinking that she was dead. You were deceived, and I want you to feel however you want, okay?" she says, and you don't respond, mostly because it feels rhetorical. "Just don't do anything rash without thinking it through alright?"

You don't know what she means by that so your eyes roll. "I think we're well past that, if they find us guilty I could lose my job." you remind her, and she chuckles. You don't find it funny, you can't. Your love for the job outweighed a lot of things, so it had been a no-brainer to help Derek seek out Ian Doyle. You wanted his head spinning on a pike, and you weren't planning to take no for an answer.

two weeks prior.

You were sitting across from Derek, steaming mug of coffee in your head that was more french vanilla creamer than anything else. You held the staged photograph of Declan and Louise. Derek's holding an identical photo, a heady sigh escaping him as you both rack your brains for some sort of bullseye. Something that would point you right in the direction of Declan. "Okay, Emily needed to get Declan a new identity." Penelope says as she walks into the office. She sits in the chair right beside you, arm full of stress balls and files. "So she must have used someone that she trusted." she proceeds.

"Alright, well that's a short list, but it's probably not even written down." is Derek's tired reply.

"Even if it was, she's been so many places, with so many different points of contact. " you speak up, and you take a sip from your coffee, praying it kicks in and wakes you up a bit. "It's not gonna be super easy to track and narrow them all down." you say, and you realize your mistake just as Penelope is placing a file in your hands.

"Oh, tell me about it. Two columns, domestic and imports." she says as she passes the other to Derek, who's looking at you with an amused smile stretched across his face. Serves you both right for underestimating the genius of Penelope Garcia. "I accept your apology, cutie." she says, leaning into you as you grin, smacking your lips in a kiss.

"Hey." JJ's at the door of the office, all three of you turning to look her way as she beams brightly. "Have you guys seen, Spence?" she questions, and you remember how you'd offered to bring him a coffee as a respite from the garbage water they served in the bullpen. He'd shut you down politely asking to reschedule as he was going to be spending his day at the Firing Range. You understood the need, he wanted to protect himself, and the team. He had to get better.

"He's at the firing range." you and Penelope speak in unison, making eye contact, as hers narrow. You knew instantly she would have questions about why you of all people knew Spencer's whereabouts.

"Again?" JJ questions as you shrug your shoulders, her eyes flitting towards you.

"Ever since Prentiss died, he..." Penelope speaks your thoughts.

"Right." JJ nods her head. "Uh... did you guys just get a new case?" she questions, hands clasping together in front of her.

"It's just an old one." Derek answers.

"Do you want some fresh eyes?" she asks, and it's painfully clear that she's still figuring out how to feel more like the team again.

"Not just yet." Derek denies, and he's polite, but you knew why he was being this way. You were all for keeping anything related to Doyle under wraps until you were further along.

"Ok. Um, well let me know." she hums, and then she looks back at you. "Y/N, can I..." your eyebrows raise as she trails off. "Can we talk? It'll only take a second." she hopes, and you look to Derek and Penelope for a moment.

"We won't do anything big without you." Derek promises, and you nod, closing the file, and handing it off, before you stand to your feet. You follow JJ out of the office, and down the hallway, stopping just before you reach the heart of the bullpen. You look to her expectantly, a bit confused, but not on edge. You had missed JJ, and in the two months she'd been back, it'd been pretty hard to get some real time with her. You'd hoped a break in the case would help to change that.

"Everything okay, Jaige?" you ask, and you witness how she exhales in relief right in front of you.

"God, it is now." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. She seems to understand the confusion on your face as she lets out a chuckle, dispelling more of her own tension. "You've been calling me Agent Jareau since I got back... not JJ and definitely not Jaige." she explains, as it seems to register for you. "I guess I was just a little worried I'd done something to make you mad at me." she admits, and she's clearly sheepish.

"Oh." you chuckle yourself, and you reach out to hold her shoulder. "No, you've done nothing wrong." you promise. "I've just been a bit in my head these last few weeks, but I'm really glad you're back." JJ beams at your words, and all the remaining tension in her posture dissipates instantly.

present day.

"Hey, everything alright?" you look up, pulled from your thoughts at the presence of Spencer Reid. He's holding a medium cup of a steaming liquid that you can only assume is coffee, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "I remember you asked me a few weeks ago about coffee." he holds it out, and you're quick to press your phone to your shoulder, neck craning slightly as you take it.

"Thanks, Spence." you mumble, and you can practically hear your sister's smirk from the other line. "Could you just give me one second, I'm talking to my sister?" you question, and Spencer nods his head, eyes widening in understanding. You smile politely, and he beams back at you, pretty eyes seemingly brightening before he's making his way over to Derek who's smirking like the nuisance he is.

"Hey." you mumble once he's gone, and your sister is snickering. For some odd reason she'd been dropping hints that maybe the guy on the team you should be setting your sights on was Spencer. To your defense, it wasn't like he wasn't attractive. You'd be an idiot to deny his boyish charm and good looks, but after he'd sat you down and admitted he had a crush on JJ, back during his second year, you'd sort of blocked any potential attraction towards him out of your head.

Now he was just Spence.

"Hey, I should go. I just wanted to check in, Spence made me aware of everything so I've got everything figured out on this end." she promises you, and you nod once more despite yourself. "Just think about what I said, alright? It'd be a shame for you to leave behind such a good job." she finishes, and you don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. "Call me later?" she questions, though you know she's telling you more than asking.

"I will." you reply, and she sounds pleased as she exhales.

"I'll talk to you soon." and then the phone is clicking. You adjust your grip on your coffee, using your free hand to grab your phone, and place it down on your lap. The coffee smelled good, it was from that cute shoppe that sold different pastries and always smelled like cinnamon. You'd been there with Spencer and Penelope a handful of times, and they always made your coffee exactly how you liked it. Still, Spencer had never ordered for you so you await a mishap.

The first sip warms you up instantly, and you're knocked flat on your ass by how on point the drink was. Your eyes snap upwards, looking across the lobby towards Spencer, who's awkwardly sitting in a seat, Derek beside him. JJ was gone now, but you figured she was probably with Hotch and Emily, the three of them had been attached at the hip since the team was "back together". You're certain them being gone was what led you to standing to your feet.

You walk towards Derek and Spencer quietly, slipping into a seat next to Spencer as Derek leaned up against the wall. "I didn't know that you knew my coffee order." you whisper, and Spencer turns to look at you. He offers a half smile, you were certain you'd be passing a lot of those back and forth until the court proceedings were done with.

"Of course I do." he shrugs his shoulders. "I pay attention when you talk." he promises, and you wonder why he had to like JJ, and why you had to like Hotch. On paper, and off paper Spencer Reid was the perfect candidate for boyfriend, plus he never pretended to be into you to keep you from finding out the truth. You both fall into silence, there's not much else to say, but you let his words repeat in your head. I pay attention when you talk. It makes your stomach twist.

"You alright over there, pretty girl?" Derek's voice barely reaches over a whispered volume. It seemed you all were feeling the dreary aftershocks of an ordeal like the one you'd found yourselves in. You look up at Derek tiredly, and you don't understand why he's asking you this, not until you feel the scalding heat of hot coffee singing your skin. Two sets of worried eyes are drawn to your cup, it's squished in your palm, brown liquid streaming everywhere.

"Shit." you hiss, and the cup falls to the floor, you're quick to clutch your burnt hand. God, you were really torn up over this.

"I'll get this cleaned up." Derek promises, and he looks at Spencer as if he was communicating something he didn't want you privy to. Spencer falters, only for a second before he's reaching out for your forearm, and guiding you to your feet. You trail after him, walking down the long corridor, listening out for the telltale sign that Penelope was done, and they'd be calling you next. On your route you pass JJ who looks concerned as she looks between the two of you.

"Spence, Y/N?" she says, and you avert your gaze, you're not sure if you're more angry or embarrassed.

"Sh-she spilled some coffee." Spencer explains, but he doesn't stop walking. "Shouldn't be more than a first degree burn, if she soaks her hand for five minutes, everything should be fine." he is passive as he speaks, eyes never quite meeting hers as he continues to lead you.

"Let me take her." JJ offers, and both you and Spencer are quick to offer denials. She looks hurt but masks it quickly. "It's not like you can go into the girl's bathroom with her, right?" she says and it's then you both realize you've got no other choice. He looks to you, trying to gauge how you'd feel about it, and you sigh. Maybe this was for the best, you could finally get things off your chest with JJ. It was only fair. He seems to clock the instant you've decided, and concedes.

"I'll be right out here." he promises, and you nod slowly. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't get the chance to.

"Spence." JJ says his name a bit more sternly, and he resists the urge to cut his eyes in her direction. He ignores her long enough to take in your ailed hand, he saw the way the skin began to redden and swell. He seems cross as he passes you off to JJ, and you feel a bit silly being fussed over for something as minute as a coffee burn. JJ's earnest in the way she takes you to the nearest women's restroom. You hiss the second the cold water comes in contact with your skin.

You don't say anything to JJ though, losing your nerve the second the two of you were alone. She looks like she's waiting for you to say something though, eyes brimming with some sort of unease. She was reading you, using her new skills to profile you. You suppose that's exactly what pushes you to finally speak. "We said we'd never profile one another." you remind her crossly, and she's sheepish. "Just because you're doing it in your head doesn't make it any less invasive." you keep your wrist in place, hissing silently.

"If you would just talk to me I wouldn't have to go that far." she counters, and you blink. Fair, but you had every right to keep your distance from her. Just because the rest of the team was still more or less unaware of JJ's role in harboring the secret of Emily, you'd read right through her.

"What's there to talk about exactly?" you ask. "None of us want to be here dealing with this." and you take the route of the naive girl.

"I'm not talking about with the trial... and the senators." she shakes her head, and she's almost pleading as she tries to catch your eyes in the mirror. "I'm talking about Emily." she deadpans. "Everything that happened?" she proceeds. "You've hardly said a word to her since she came back." she doesn't want to come off like she's scolding you, and so she takes in a breath before her tone can become defensive.

"I don't speak to ghosts." and it's a quiet little dig that she hears all the same. It forces a tense silence to wash over the restroom, the only sound slicing through the awkwardness is the water rushing from the spout. JJ clears her throat, blinking a few times as she adjusts your wrist, allowing the water to evenly coat your burn. Only a few more minutes of this and you could make your grand escape.

"That's not fair." she finally voices her thoughts with a deep sigh.

"Isn't it?" you snap. "Seven months we thought she was dead." and you suppose that was a mistake of hers, getting you started. "Pretty lucky that you were off at the Pentagon, right?" you ask sourly. "Or was it lucky that you were in on the whole scam? I mean you were at the funeral, but you didn't have to cry, you didn't have to grieve." you accuse, and JJ's jaw slackens, clearly surprised at your outburst.

"I lost my friend too, okay?" she counters and you scoff.

"Did you?" you argue. "All those nights I called you crying, all those texts, those check ins... how long did you know Emily was still alive?" you demand, and JJ's feeling cornered, and her heart rate is picking up. She knew there'd be mixed feelings about this, but she'd never expected to ever be at odds with you. You, Spencer, and JJ rounded out the younger crowd on the team, it was your job to stick together. "Answer me." you insist, and you sound so crushed as you speak.

"I knew the whole time." she answers, and you nod your head, because of course you already knew.

"Exactly." you sneer. "You're a liar." you hate how angry this whole thing makes you, but you can't deny it. They'd played with your feelings, all of them, and now you were meant to behave like nothing was wrong. "Did you know about Hotch?" you ask, and JJ flinches. She doesn't answer for a while, and the water seems to rush even louder in your ears.

"I told him it wasn't smart." she finally answers. "But we needed to ensure that Emily wasn't at risk, it was harmless... just some flirting to keep you from getting too close to the truth." and JJ is speaking as if this wasn't some major breach of your position as coworkers and alleged friends. "He'd never cross the line." she reminds you, and the reminder that yeah, Hotch would never be with you makes you wince.

"And he didn't." she says this like she knows for certain. "It was flirting, Y/N. it didn't mean anything, we just needed you to..." and she trails off when she sees how destroyed you look at her admission. "Y/N..." she trails off, and you inhale sharply.

"Don't." you exhale, and you snatch your hand from her grasp. The cool air of the bathroom immediately attacks the welts blooming on your hand. You don't have time to pay them any mind.

"We just wanted to protect you... and keep Emily safe in the process. The more of us that knew Emily was alive, the more of a liability we'd be while Doyle was still on the run." she says, and you suppose in the grand scheme you understand. As profilers, as special agents working for the FBI they'd done great work. As your friends, as people you'd considered family for years... they'd betrayed you.

Plain and simple.

"Congratulations, you did exactly what you meant to." you say dully, and you sniffle, though no tears are set to come. Instead you feel more anger blossoming in the pit of your gut. "I hope it was worth it." and it's dramatic, but you deserve the dramatics, sidestepping the blonde and leaving her behind just as Emily is stepping inside. She looks at you wide-eyed, before she sees JJ standing there seemingly frazzled.

"Is everything okay?" she questions, and you don't offer her an answer, instead leaving the restroom as your earlier words ring in your head. I don't talk to ghosts. And you don't, and despite your history you'd never allow yourself to. You find your way back to the seats that led to the courtroom, Derek was gone, the only person still there was Spencer. He stands up as soon as he hears your shoes.

"Where's Derek?" you ask quietly.

"He left with Garcia." he answers quietly. "I guess they're dismissed for now. They're in with Dave now." he explains, and your eyes shift to the door. More than likely you or Spencer would be next.

You sit down, and Spencer follows you, sinking back into his seat as his legs just barely brush against yours. "Are you scared?" you ask, and Spencer's head shakes.

"Are you?" he shoots back, and you look away from the door.

"Not of this." you admit. "But of what comes after." you add and Spencer's pretty brown eyes are swimming with confusion. "Can we really all bounce back from something like this?" you ask, and it's rhetorical, but he answers you all the same.

"We've come back from worse." he reminds you, and that faint smile is worming back onto your face.

"Sure we have." you agree numbly. Spencer's eyes drop to your hand.

"How does it feel?" he asks, and you follow his gaze with a shrug of your shoulders. He doesn't look pleased by this approach, and it makes you sigh.

"Just feels like I ran some water over it." you admit, and Spencer chuckles. "A bit anticlimactic if I'm honest with you, Doctor." and you're partly teasing, mostly because it's so easy.

"You'll need some sort of petroleum jelly... there's some pretty good products that aren't at all carcinogenic like the leading brands." he begins on a tangent, and it makes you smile a bit bigger. "That with some gauze is the perfect remedy for such a mild burn." he proceeds and you look down at it. There's a moment of silence between you, before he's talking again. "Can I ask what happened?" he whispers.

You hum, almost like you're pretending you can't hear him.

"With the coffee? Was it not good? I tried to follow your order exactly." he says and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"It wasn't you or the coffee, Spence." you promise him, and without thinking you reach out, small hand resting on his shoulder. "The coffee was perfect." you insist, and he relaxes, but not enough. "I guess I'm just thrown about all of this." you proceed. "No matter how much I try to remind myself that they did this to protect Emily... that their deception was for a good reason, it just makes me angrier. Why is it that I have to rationalize being angry?" you question.

"I have to reign my feelings in for the sake of the team." you're careful not to grow loud. Spencer's eyebrows are pressed inwardly, head shaking.

"You don't." he denies you quickly. "You shouldn't." he corrects.

"You're right." you agree, and your silent for only a second. "I wish everyone could be like you, Spence." you say, and your words surprise him. He feels this familiar wave of adoration that always seems to swallow him whole whenever he was around you.

"Really?" he knows it might be pathetic, to be hopeful for something like this. The chance to hear what popped in your head whenever you thought of him.

"Yeah." you say firmly, and he tries not to look too eager. "You're so smart." you tell him, and he knows this, but it still feels nice hearing it from you. "And you're always nice to me." you add with a quiet laugh. "And you'd never lie to me would you?" you ask, and in truth, it's not a fair question. Spencer wasn't in the position the others were in.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and he fears it may be the wrong response. You don't even react, at least not that he can tell.

"Nothing." you settle on, head shaking from side to side. "Forget I mentioned it." and he doesn't really want to remind you that his memory quite literally makes that impossible. "I heard that you weren't fighting the suspension." you say conversationally, and he's surprised, mostly because the only person he'd told about that was Derek. Which meant you had been talking about him when he wasn't around.

"I guess I just stand by everything we did." he tells you, and your hand still hurts a bit, but it's definitely a problem for a later version of you.

"Me too. I'm glad we got Doyle, and Declan's safe." you exhale, and despite your anguish towards the team, you meant every word.

"And the team's back together." Spencer himself doesn't sound so convinced. You look over at him at this, your own unconvinced expression slowly cracking through his attempt at a cool facade.

"Is it?" you ask, and Spencer's face softens, a small little frown taking over his otherwise usually content face. He couldn't admit it now, mostly because it didn't feel like the right time, but he paid attention to you. He knew all about your complicated feelings for Hotch "I don't want to be on a team with people who purposely keep me in the dark about things." you ask, and Spencer pauses.

"I'm sure they wouldn't if they had another choice." he offers, and it's not how he feels at all, but it's what you need to hear.

"You don't believe that." you deny, and Spencer can't fight his chuckle. "Or maybe you do, you've always been good at seeing the best in people."

"Oh, do you think so?" it's a bit of a surprise. With your job description it would've made more sense for you to tell him that he saw the worst in people. He felt it was a fair thing to say that he was exceptionally good at his job, but it's then he recognizes what it is you're truly saying, or at least alluding to. It makes his face heat up immediately, cheeks blossoming a rosy red that makes him want to roll his eyes.

"Of course." you promise, and then you're looking at him again. Your face is one of the prettiest he's ever seen, and it's not even subtle. You seem a bit uncertain of your own allure though, which to him is a major shock. "You're like the best person ever." you add, and he expects you to snicker or show some sign that you were joking, but you don't. Bad for him, because his deluded mind full of fantasies starring you would take words like those the wrong way.

"I think you're the best person ever..." he's whispered this, but you hear it all the same, and he's lucky enough to witness the way your entire face morphs. Despite the bleariness in your eyes, you beam brightly. He hates though, that you start to cry. It starts with one tear slipping down your cheek and dripping into your lap. The onslaught comes right after, and before you know it, you're choking on sobs.

"God..." he hears the bitter tang of self-loathing that attaches and weaves itself into your otherwise honey-filled tone. "You're making this so hard, Spencer." you huff, and you scrub at your face harshly. He doesn't understand, but he's too frozen in place to ask you what you mean. Lucky him, you seem to know that you've got explain a bit, so you do. "I'm gonna resign." you say this quietly, sniffling as more tears fall. Spencer feels like he's misheard you.

He wants to have misheard you. He flounders a bit, and he's mentally scolding himself, because he has to hurry the fuck up and say something. "You can't!" and he's scolding himself again for sounding too eager. You jump a bit at the outburst, and he winces right along with you. "We just got everyone back." he reminds you, and you exhale, head nodding in understanding.

"I know." you promise him. "Why do you think this is so hard. You think I want to be the asshole that turns the unit on its head?" you ask. "But I can't stay here and pretend that everything's fine... or act like I don't feel thrown about all of this." you proceed, and of course, Spencer understands, he's upset he was lied too as well.

"I understand." he admits with a sigh, and you let out a quiet noise of relief, almost like you were worried he'd be upset with you. He assumes this is just him being delusional again. You look like you have something sitting on the tip of your tongue, so he stays silent to give you the room to say all that you need to.

"Have you ever had feelings for someone?" you ask. You chuckle at the look he shoots you, "Not just for a second, Spence." you proceed. "I mean like... take your breath away, kind of almost-in-love feelings." you indulge, and Spencer's keen to shut his mouth. Yes, is the loud and resounding answer that rings in his head, because foolishly he'd allows you to captivate him like the siren you were almost three years prior. He'd be a dummy to tell you such now though.

"I-" he blinks harshly, eyes feeling too dry. "I can't say I have." he lies, and he remembers your words from earlier, how you'd praised him for being someone who would never lie to you. You don't seem to notice his deception though, and if you do, you're too in your own head to comment on it.

"Good." you say with a shuddered breath. "They're nothing but a headache, especially when the person doesn't want you back." you exhale the words, and it's like a dagger is being lunged into his chest. How dense could you possibly be with all your super smarts?

"Did something happen with Hotch?" he asks, and now it's your turn to be embarrassed, face pinching up as you choke on a breath. "I don't mean to pry, if it's personal... it's just that-" he trails off, seemingly waiting for you to berate him or tell him to back off. You don't, instead your nose twitches, and you begin to look at your shoes. "Y/N?" he nudges you with his elbow, and it's light.

"No." you finally say, head shaking. "I thought maybe..." you trail off, more embarrassment slicing at you as you cringe. "But it was all a ruse, just a way to keep me from getting too close, and figuring out everything about Emily before they wanted us to know." you say and Spencer's eyebrows furrow.

"They?" he pries, and you look at him like he's silly.

"Hotch and JJ." you answer plainly, and it takes Spencer a second. JJ who he'd went to for comfort for ten weeks? He blinks at you, and you shrug. "So you see... anyone that could take my feelings and use them to manipulate me... are they really worth sticking around for?" you ask, and Spencer doesn't want to validate you in this way. He wants to be selfish, he wants you to stay on the team.

He thinks about how devasted everyone would be. How devasted he would be to walk into the bullpen and find that your desk was empty.

"I don't want you to go..." he admits, and it's quite pitiful, the sadness that soaks the words like gasoline. You find yourself chomping on your lip again, nails pressing into the cuts of your palms, and Spencer's catching your bad habits in real time.

It's a bit invasive, the way his hand surges out, and stops you in your tracks. "Please don't do this." and you're not sure if he's talking about leaving the unit, or if he's referring to the gashes littering your hands. When he holds your palm out flat, and rubs his thumb across the bleeding indentations, you find that you understand quickly.

Every few seconds it's ebbing with more droplets of blood, and he's quick to wipe them away like they offend him. Just as he's moving to say something else, the doors to the courtroom are opening, and Dave Rossi is exiting, his eyes immediately on you and Spencer. You must look foolish, hands intertwined as you stare wide-eyed at the team's senior agent. It's probably why Spencer is dropping your hand as you're snatching it away from his grasp.

You still find that your eyes are quick to appraise one another. He's looking at you, and you're staring back, mouths parted as if you'd been caught. Had you been caught? Had there really been anything to catch? You don't have time to answer, because you're being called next. You frown at Spencer, standing to your feet as he feels his pulse threaten to leap to disrespectful speeds.

"Y/N..." he calls after you, and you stop for a second. Eager eyes fall back on him, and he's trailing off, because the look in your eyes says it all. If you got out of this without being fired, you could imagine a world where quitting the FBI no longer made you sick to your stomach. Silence befalls the space, and he shakes his head after a beat. You look disappointed but not surprised, inhaling deep and audibly as you march towards the court room.

Spencer doesn't know what you're going to say, but he hopes recalling all you'd been through in the last few weeks will be enough to make you stay. At least until he has the courage to ensure that you leaving the team doesn't equate to losing you entirely and completely.

[graveyard-stray]

Hidden Talent // BAU Team x Fem!Reader (PLATONIC)

+ some bits of romantic Spencer x Reader

The team must go undercover at a strip club to catch a nasty killer, and you just so happen to have a hidden talent for pole dancing.

CW// sexual innuendos, no description of reader’s appearance, uses of Y/N, 2nd person POV, mentions of guns and some violence, proofread but it’s possible I missed something so sorry 😭

This is for @imagining-in-the-margins writing challenge! The prompt was pretty much exactly what the summary is 😅

Loved this idea and had so much fun with this fic!

The BAU has seen its fair share of uncomfortable cases, and this one was no different. A serial killer was targeting dancers at high-end strip clubs, and the team had just landed their biggest lead yet: Eclipse, an exclusive club where the unsub was believed to be stalking his next victim.

“Alright, we need eyes inside,” Hotch announced, scanning the team. “Morgan you’ll be a security guard, Prentiss JJ and Spencer you can be regular patrons, me and Rossi will be at the bar.” He explained to the team, and when he got to you he thought for a second, thoughtfully considering your role in this undercover operation. “ and (Y/N), you’re going undercover as a dancer.” He finally decided after a second of deliberation.

You were the newest member of the team but still a highly skilled agent, and you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. You raised an eyebrow at him but nodded. “I can handle that.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Garcia interjected, looking up from her laptop. “Are we sure about this? I mean, (Y/N) is brilliant and fierce, but—”

“I’ll be fine, Garcia,” you reassured her with a smirk. “It’s not my first undercover gig.”

Emily crossed her arms. “But have you ever danced before?”

You hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “I’ve had some training.”

That was an understatement.

The Club

Hours later, the team was positioned inside Eclipse. Derek Morgan posed by the door, Hotch and Rossi were at the bar watching for their suspect, while Emily and JJ were blending in as patrons. Garcia monitored everything from the van, and Spencer Reid—well, he was doing his best to keep his cool while sitting at a private table with a direct view of the stage.

Then the music started.

You stepped onto the stage in a sleek, dark red set of heels and an outfit that left just enough to the imagination. The second your hands touched the pole, the atmosphere changed.

With effortless grace, you moved, flipping upside down, holding you body weight with one arm, and executing spins with hypnotic control. You weren’t just good—you were incredible.

The club patrons were mesmerized. So was the team.

Morgan nearly choked on his drink. “Damn, (Y/N). Didn’t see that coming.”

Emily smirked, very impressed “Guess that ‘training’ was a little more extensive than she let on.” She chuckled and let out a wolf whistle at you, the supportive best friend she was.

JJ shook her head, watching in awe. “Why didn’t she ever tell us?“

But no one was more affected than Spencer.

His eyes were wide, his face flushed. He knew you were intelligent, strong, and fearless, but this? This was unexpected. And apparently, his brain was short-circuiting because all rational thought had left him.

Morgan nudged him. “Reid, close your mouth, man.”

“I—uh—what?” Spencer stammered, gripping his drink like it was a lifeline.

“Yeah, you heard me.” Derek teased. “You’re catching flies!”

But before anyone could tease him further, you finished your performance and Spencer let out a relieved sigh while Emily and JJ erupted into claps and cheers from the crowd. You then slipped right into the more serious part of your role, chatting up patrons, trying to get any info about your suspect, all while subtly scanning the room for the target.

The entire team was watching closely at anyone in the bar but after what felt like forever, they hadn’t noticed anyone suspicious and everyone was beginning to wonder if their “lead” was really just a dead end.

But finally, between stolen glances at Spencer’s adorably flustered expression, You caught sight of a man matching the profile. You were about to signal the team to check him out but he noticed you first. You were staring at him and he took this as a sign and began to approach you.

You backed up, now positive this was your guy because of the hunger in his eyes that grew as he got closer, it was a look you’ve seen before…bloodlust

Just as he was about to reach you he was shoved to the ground by…Spencer?

The entire team was now up from their spots, weapons drawn while Spencer was handcuffing the guy who was face planted into the dark tile of the club.

“FBI! you’re under arrest for the suspected murders of Bethany Ross, Lilly Sullivan, Megan Holt, and Katrina Bell.” Spencer told the man, practically shouting at him as he pulled him off the floor with the help of Derek.

You smiled at him as he handed the guy to Derek. Who escorted him out of the building.

“Are you okay?” He asked you “having that killer approach you while you’re dressed like uh…like- well um…one of his victims-“ he tried to explain as eloquently as possible, not wanting to accidentally say something rude.

You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder “I’m alright Spence. But thanks for helping me there! It’s much appreciated.” You laugh a bit before going to catch up with the rest of the team.

Back at the BAU

The next day, the team was still buzzing from the previous night’s events.

“So,” Emily s by aid casually, “how long were you going to keep that little talent of yours a secret, (Y/N)?”

You smirked as you sipped your coffee. “Didn’t think it was relevant to the job.” you shrugged playfully

Morgan chuckled. “Well, it sure as hell is now.”

Meanwhile, Spencer stood awkwardly beside you, still unsure of what to say.

You turned to him, amused. “Something on your mind, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer swallowed. “I, uh—your performance was… technically impressive. The physics involved in—uh, never mind.” His ears turned bright red.

You grinned somewhat evily. “Thanks, Spence. Maybe I can give you a private lesson in the physics of it sometime.”

Morgan nearly fell out of his chair laughing, while Spencer’s brain promptly short-circuited again.

“Okay but seriously I’m gonna need my own private performance because you looked fantastic up there!” Emily flirted playfully, as she did.

Penelope nodded “yeah I mean I’m not one to objectify but you looked hot, like HOT HOT.” She praised.

You just laughed and shrugged, bringing your mug to your lips once more. “Maybe, but only if you guys bring all your dollar bills!”

The group erupted into laughter and cheers for a moment before everyone decided it was time to head back to work, the cases were fun but the paperwork the day after…not so much.

You sat at your desk for a moment just thinking. While your secret was out, you didn’t particularly mind. These were your closest friends so if anything it was nice having them know this side of you, and hey maybe you’ll get to use your not so- hidden talent on another case one day.

[hotchnersangel]

GIRL, SO CONFUSING!

Aaron Hotchner

a/n: i’ve been watching an awful lot of love island so this is very angry girl staying composed confrontation core.

warnings: jealousy, oc! vs you, bombshell!reader, angry girl core, (not an accurate representation of beth in the show),

————————

Aaron Hotchner was a proud man, not in a bad way, quite literally the opposite. He had built up his reputation, he had loved and lost but that had never been his priority. He somehow felt content in his life with different kinds of love, like the one he felt for the bau team, or... well, you. It was different to the team, it made him comfortable. He knew you, and you knew him. Everyone knew you as a pair, if you were seperate, well that would be awkward. Though, your platonic love hadn't been a relationship, not nearly. Maybe the lines between platonic and romantic were hazy sometimes but that did not mean that you were together, You were both adamant that you were not, always shutting people down when they suggested the idea of it.

Recently, Aaron had started seeing a new woman, her name was Beth. She was sweet at first and she stayed that way to the team, though it didn't feel that way with you. Overtime, she seemed to reject yours and Aaron's relationship, which you didn't like because he could be friends with who he likes. You would understand if you and Aaron had a history, but you didn't. Simple, you were friends, best friends and Beth tried to accept it, but she didn't. Instead, you resulted in pretending to get along with one another, though you all know that it's so far from the truth.

The bau were round Rossi's house, having a 'family' dinner and coincidentally you were sat opposite Beth, forced to stare at her the whole evening. Deep joy.

"So, Beth... you got your hair done?" You try start a friendly conversation with her. In return you get a short smile and a nod.

"Yeah, I did." She replies and you awkwardly smile at her, not knowing what to reply.

"You guys are twinning now..." JJ tries to break the ice but it had the opposite effect, Beth just straightened her posture and tried to pass the comment off. The silence on our side of the table was thick, the raw unspoken awkwardness of a lack of common ground.

"You guys do say we are alike..." you say nonchalantly, trying to diffuse some tension with some humour.

Beth laughs and shakes her head. "I don't see it."

You give JJ a look sharing unspoken pleas for a new convo topic, you hide your smile behind your wine glass as you take a sip.

"So," JJ looks at you with a smile, "How is that boyfriend of yours doing?" This catches Hotch's attention now as he joins in the conversation.

You laugh, "I mean... it is a bit of fun really but I don't think it's anything serious." you shrug, telling them the truth.

"I never did like him really," Aaron shrugs, smiling at you and you laugh shaking you head. "Believe me, I know you didn't."

"I think you should see how it goes," Beth says and shrugs and everyone looks confused at one another, considering all she knew about him was that he was a bit of 'fun'.

You laugh awkwardly, looking at Aaron who furrowed his brows slightly but brushed it off.

After dinner, everyone joins on the backdoor porch, sitting on the luxurious garden furniture. You were sat with Emily and JJ, observing the way Beth was practically all over Hotch.

"I really don't understand your relationship with her." Emily says bewildered.

"I genuinely can't tell if she wants to see me falling over and failing and honestly, I sort of feel the same to her." You say looking at them both now. "I'm trying to be nice but I think i really dislike her... like come on, the new hair?"

"It's a bit of a coincidence considering the fact that her man fancies the shit out of you and suddenly dresses, acts and now looks like you," Emily shrugs casually and JJ hits her playfully but has a serious tone when scolding her.

"What do you mean?" You ask furrowing your brows and laughing, "Aaron doesn't like me in that way babe."

"For profilers, you are both in extreme loss of social awareness," Spencer walks past as says, taking a seat next to Emily. "Around 85-90% of people can be considered to lack a significant social awareness because they don't fully understand their own self-awareness, for example-"

"What Pretty boy is trying to say pretty lady, is that you and Hotch are in love but you don't see it yet." Moran waltzes in and states, bringing along a gushing Garcia and Rossi.

"Aaron's happy. I want him to be happy and I truly think he is with Beth." You state, diverting the conversation. Beth and Aaron walk over after that comment and you smile at them.

"Beth, I'm having a party for new years round mine... you should come." you offer kindly, wanting some peace considering she is dating your best friend.

"I don't really do parties." She retorts.

"Come on, it will be good to put your hands up a bit, have a little dance." You offer with a smile and she smiles awkwardly in return.

"I think i'll leave that to you babe." She smiles passively agressive at you. "I'm in a happy relationship."

You furrow your brows, "What's that got to do with anything?"

Everyone is watching the two of you bounce against one another now, flicking their heads like they're watching a tennis match. You're even sure you saw Rossi pass Emily a handful of popcorn.

"It means, I dont go whoring around babe." She smiles patronisingly and everyone looks shocked.

"Beth-" Aaron tries to step in.

"No- Aaron, I can handle this, thank you though." You say kindly to him, looking back to Beth. "No wonder you're so tight Beth, because I'm having a party? How am I a whore?"

"That's the type of party I see you throwing," she shrugs.

"That's an orgy babe," you retort, "Clearly you're opinions are too fixed to comprehend that not everyone's actions are centred around male validation."

She scoffs, "You're a fine one to talk like that. Clearly it's something you crave if it's all you look for in my boyfriend, hear that, mine. It's why you can't get in your own loving relationship babe."

You actually laugh in her face, the others trying to bump in but you stop them. "Girl, you're so confusing sometimes. I genuinely can't tell what I have done to give you the impression that I would 'steal' your boyfriend, whether I liked him or not, you should one have trust in him to not do that to you- which Aaron by the way, clearly would never do, and two, I am not the type of girl to go after another girl full stop. Whether it is her or her man, you don't do that as a woman, babe."

"Oh and you're so perfect aren't you?" she shoots back.

"Perfect enough to tell you that you don't have to change your appearance to look like me because you believe that your boyfriend is in love with me." You state quieter, knowing everyone had concluded that, but wanting to keep her confrontation private.

"You're a self centered bitch, you know that?"

"You know, we are totally different after all. You need to berate other women to feel good about yourself and I do not. Please, do yourself a favour and work on those thoughts. Be kinder to yourself and you will feel less worried about these things." You state directly.

"Aaron, we're leaving." she gets up angrily, walking to the door.

"No, Beth. You're leaving." He says crossing his arms and moving besides you, placing his hand on your shoulder in support. "I think you made a decision for me."

————————

[midniqhtt]

spencer reid

masterlist • criminal minds • 04/15/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 blurb I deactivated account

𑣲 easy fix I @judeswhore

after spending weeks searching for ways to ease the burden of his headaches, spencer has finally found a solution. you.

𑣲 heartbeat I @theonewiththefanfics

For seven months Y/N, the newest team member of the BAU, has been missing, kidnapped by an unsub they were hunting. But when the search comes to an end, Spencer doesn’t know how to feel.

𑣲 i can see you I @januaryembrs

Spencer may or may not have a little thing for the desk jockey on the floor below, and she may or may not have a thing for their silent elevator rides together.

𑣲 black cat girlfriend I @/januaryembrs

the team meet Spencer's new girlfriend and she doesn't look quite like they'd imagined.

𑣲 fugitive affections I @/januaryembrs

𑣲 clueless I @/januaryembrs

Spencer's got a crush, too bad you're entirely clueless to his dilemma

𑣲 practice run I @rreids

going on a platonic date with spencer (for him to know what it's like) that becomes very real.

𑣲 and then there were two I @sweetestspence

the bau recruits a new agent whose credentials arguably match their very own boy wonder’s.

𑣲 hearts pt2 I @violetrainbow412-blog

an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

𑣲 bolinus brandaris pt2 I @/violetrainbow412-blog

Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

𑣲 request I @reiderwriter

𑣲 don’t think i don’t like you I @luveline

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think)

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 married!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 shy!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 roommate!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 roommate!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 badass!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 roommate!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 bombshell!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 spencer’s oldest wanting to help I @/luveline

𑣲 mom!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 post!prision x shy!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 hotch!sister I @/luveline

𑣲 apparent loss or modification of information I @/luveline

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you.

𑣲 visitors list I @tlou-reid

when spencer goes to prison, his visitor's list seems to be missing a name.

𑣲 please don’t have somebody waiting on you I @cerisereids

spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

𑣲 safe I @rynbutt

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

𑣲 take my breath away I @atlabeth

you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

𑣲 pretty boy I @/atlabeth

spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

𑣲 table thief I @/atlabeth

spencer's routine, thoughts, and plans are thrown off by a girl he meets at his favorite cafe --- not necessarily in that order.

𑣲 adorkable I @reidsdaisies

spencer just looks too irresistible in those damned short-shorts.

𑣲 you already said yes I @dr-spencer-reids-queen

Spencer comes home to find your wedding ring on his office desk, and his thoughts run wild.

𑣲 24 hours I @radiant-reid

a blurb where he actually gets mad at JJ when she confesses to love him but doesn't really say anything at the moment. But then when he introduces reader to the team as his girlfriend, JJ is being kinda rude to her. She tries to tell him she doesn't like her, that she's not good for him. And spencer gets mad and protective

𑣲 first I @buckysbabygorl

Spencer eats you out for the first time

𑣲 coincidences I @sinfulspencer

Spencer has been spending quite some time at the local supermarket because someone has captured his attention. Or where Spencer meets you many times in the aisle of the supermarket and decides to make a move on you when you need help.

𑣲 their vast empty space I @literaila

𑣲 three letters I @sunshineandspencer

Garcia is tired of Spencer being single, and if the only way to fix that is to sign him up for a singles pen-pal society, then so be it. While she’s at it, let her add their other co-worker as well, there’s no way that could have any impact.

𑣲 mirror, mirror I @none-of-your-bullshit

keeping your relationship with Spencer a secret proves to be a little difficult when you are working with profilers.

𑣲 you have a girlfriend? I @galaxy-siren

Garcia has been trying to set Spencer up, but he's been keeping a secret from the team...he has a girlfriend.

𑣲 as cool as i think i am I @easy-there-leftovers

The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care.

𑣲 surprise surprise I @benevolentbones

𑣲 for the fear of falling apart I @pathologicalreid

after hearing her gunpoint confession, your sister pressures you into airing your grievances at Rossi's wedding

𑣲 puzzling I @/pathologicalreid

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

𑣲 cryptic I @/pathologicalreid

You and Spencer get a surprise beyond your wildest dreams.

𑣲 hallucinate I @gghostwriter

They are friends, but Spencer is in love with her. Spencer gets in one accident and thinks she is more than a friend. He believes she is his wife.

𑣲 you're the risk, i'll take it I @/gghostwriter

The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

𑣲 one single thread of gold part 2 I @/gghostwriter

The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes

𑣲 it's golden, like daylight I @dudeitiskarev

Out of panic, you introduce Spencer as your boyfriend to your life-long situationship. Next thing you know, Spencer is your plus one at your friend’s wedding. There, the pieces start to fall right into place.

𑣲 won't see me again I @mindfullycriminal

Reader comes to pick up her father for his scheduled half day off. When it becomes apparent he forgot, the team sees what might be the end of your relationship. For some reason, Spencer is particularly bothered by this.

𑣲 I'm you fluffer I @reiderwriter

𑣲 opposites attract I @reidmania

spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

𑣲 nonexistent rizz part 2 I @miedei

the team is shocked to see that… early seasons!spencer pulls?? and he has pulled????

𑣲 birthday boy I @gf2bellamy

you show up at spencer's door, ready to celebrate his 30th birthday, which he thought everyone forgot about

[avis-writeshq]

04 — you are in love

summary: “you can hear it in the silence.”/”you can hear it on the way home.”/”you can see it with the lights out.” in other words; the four times spencer wants to kiss you, and the one time he wishes he did. pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn,  warnings: drug mention, alcohol (reader gets a little tipsy), vomit (not in detail) wc: 3.4k a/n: thank you again to the wonderful amazing @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH zara you're a real one &lt;3 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Falling in love is something that Spencer thought he would never get the luxury of doing. It’s a fairytale. After all, his parents were supposed to be a perfect example of what love should be like and look how they ended up. Yet despite it all, he always seems to find himself going back to you. You, who makes it so easy to love but he doesn’t deserve it. He refuses to believe he deserves it. He feels so horribly broken that it doesn’t make sense why you would love him, or why he deserves to love you. 

It takes Spencer another three months to actually properly come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with you. He’s spent most of his free time attending Narcotic Anonymous groups upon your insistence and he hates to admit that it helps. He didn’t think they would at first, despite the swirling statistics of their effectiveness but he figures that it wouldn’t hurt. The other times when he’s not doing something drug related, therapy related or work related, he’s with you. Your apartment is almost like a second home to him and you’d given him your spare key (he went home with a ridiculous grin on his face and had to chug several cups of water to calm himself down). 

Since your leaving the BAU, he’s left a series of trinkets on his desk that remind him of you. A little ceramic blue bird beside the animal skull models. It’s no bigger than his pinky finger and when he asked you why you gifted it to him, you told him that it represents hope and renewal. He thinks he needs a lot of that.

In the first drawer of his desk is a framed picture of you and him at a Doctor Who convention with him dressed up as the Tenth Doctor and you in all blue in an attempt to dress up as TARDIS. It was a fun and silly day but it was enjoyable and that was what mattered. After a series of unfortunate events, Derek happened across the photo, claiming that there was no platonic explanation for it. 

(“Care to explain this?” He had asked, holding the frame with a grin on his face. He was looking into Spencer’s desk for a specific file on the Benson murders, only to be met with a very familiar face.

Spencer immediately lunged for the photograph, grabbing it and securing it back in his desk with a heavy slam. “Don’t.”

Derek put his hands up in mock surrender, although his eyes were sympathetic. “There’s nothing platonic about that, kid.”

He huffed in response, rubbing at his eyes and taking a seat at his desk. “I know.”)

The first time he came to terms with the fact that he actually wanted to be with you was after a specific realisation. Some cases are harder than others. It’s a given; some cases are just more difficult to deal with and therefore harder to compartmentalise. Each person is different, especially when you factor in trauma. Derek struggles when pedophilia is involved, and JJ finds suicide cases the worst. Hotch can barely function properly when children are targeted, and Emily hides behind a mask so effortlessly that the most mundane things can get to her. After a period of thought, Spencer realises what he struggles to deal with: bullying.  

“You should have– you should have heard what they were saying!” Spencer insists, pacing his living room floor while throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. 

He had just returned home from a case in West Bune, Texas, and it was probably one of the most difficult cases he had to go through. The UnSub was a teenager named Owen and after a very tense confrontation with him outside the police department, he was taken into custody. The entire nature of the case irked him. So many deaths could have been prevented if people just did something but now a boy is in custody with a body count nearing the double digits. 

“They didn’t even try to deal with the bullying,” he continues, running his fingers through his now long hair. He can’t bring himself to get it cut; especially not after the incident with Hankel some moons ago. 

You don’t say anything, sitting on his couch and sipping your tea, your eyes trained on the way he paces back and forth. 

“People are dead because of them. I’m not saying that they didn’t deserve it because they did, but something should have changed.” His words are harsh as he continues to walk, clenching and unclenching his hands. 

“You can’t change anything about it now,” You say gently, your gaze shifting from his hands to his arms to his face. “What’s done is done. All we can do is hope that the school board learns from their mistakes.”

“But they don’t!” He exclaims, turning to face you. He swallows thickly before sighing, slumping into the seat beside you and pressing himself into his side. “It’s just so… frustrating. They never learn.”

You nod, running your fingers through the knots in his hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“That could have been me,” he says quietly, burying his face into the palms of his hands. He presses the pads of his fingers into the corners of his eyes, stars dotting his vision.

“But it’s not,” you say firmly. “You’re a good person, Spencer. You’re saving people and putting the bad guys away. That’s a far cry away from being an UnSub.”

You’re looking at him now and he tilts his head to meet your gaze. You’re so close to him and Spencer can hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

Kiss her.

The words that enter Spencer’s mind are enough to give him whiplash and he pulls away, pretending that he doesn’t see the hurt in your eyes when he does. 

What?

“Are you okay?” You ask, frowning up at him. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He offers a smile. “I’m okay.”

*** 

“Emily doesn’t blame you, you know.”

The words hang in the air as you sit on the floor of your bedroom, the thundering storm pounding against your windows. Spencer shrugs, sitting next to you. The power is out across Washington and the flickering of candles helps to light up the room. Spencer fiddles with the rug on the floor and your brows knit together. 

“Walter.”

“I know.” He buries his face in his hands and lets out a groan. “I know, I know. It’s not my fault. It just feels like it, you know? We knew that it was a cult but we didn’t know that it was… that bad. God, angel, you should have seen her. She was beat up and everything and it feels like I could have done something.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” you chastise, brushing your shoulder against his for a moment. “You really need to take better care of yourself.”

He doesn’t respond, simply moving so that he’s lying down on the rug in your room. It’s a soft tufted rug that goes from a dark purple in the middle to white around the edges. It’s one of his favourite rugs in the world. You’re sitting cross legged beside him, leaning against the bed. The soft glow of the candles illuminate your face and you truly look like an angel in this light. 

He just came back from a case in La Plata County in Colorado and he was ordered to take a week off by Hotch to deal with the traumatics of the case. What started out as an undercover investigation in an underground cult led to a gun fight and a bombing, all while Spencer and Emily were inside the compound. The way Emily looked so in pain after the whole ordeal would haunt him forever; the black eye she suffered from, the bruising to her chest… he doesn’t even want to think about the rest of the things that could have happened. 

“Stop.”

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts and he sucks in a breath.

“I didn’t do anything,” he says meekly, playing with the rug underneath him.

“It’s not your fault.” You smile at him before hitting him lightly with one of your pillows. “Stop that.”

He laughs loudly, grunting a little from the impact of the pillow colliding with his face. “Hey!”

You grin teasingly and hit him again with the pillow. He retaliates quickly, gripping the pillow and trying to tug it out of your hands. Your grip is a lot stronger than he thought it was and his tug sends you flying towards him, a shriek leaving your lips as your forehead bounces off his. 

A hiss of pain leaves your lips but you’re laughing as you clutch your forehead. “Spencer what the hell?!”

“I’m sorry!” He says, not really meaning it, and rubbing at his head. He’s laughing along, his cheeks warm as he smiles up at you. His hands move to your face, one to your cheek and the other to brush the hair on your forehead to the side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You laugh again, smiling a brilliantly beautiful toothy smile. The candlelight dances in your eyes with a warm orange light as you do. “Are you?”

His gaze meets yours, watching the way you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and the way your eyes crinkles when you smile. He watches the way you lean against the side of the bed, tilting your head back with your eyes closed. God. He swears you’re trying to kill him.

“Spencer?” You ask with a soft chuckle, and the sound is so pretty that he doesn’t mind the fact that you find amusement at his expense. “Are you okay?”

He nods, his throat dry and his cheeks hot. He blames the candles. 

*** 

The couch is never comfortable. You are well aware that the couch feels strangely lumpy and you’re pretty sure one of the springs is broken but for some reason you keep insisting to take it whenever you stay at Spencer’s apartment. The blanket he lets you use is thick and cosy to make up for it and the pillow is always fluffed. 

“Good morning.”

Spencer’s voice is raspy with early morning vocal fry and it makes your heart lurch in your throat. 

“Morning,” you murmur, eyes still closed in an attempt to calm yourself down. Maybe if you don’t see him you won’t embarrass yourself.

“Still tired?” He asks, and you hear him start the coffee machine. There’s the sound of rustling in the background along with the flicking of a switch. Too many sounds for too early of a day.

“Mm.”

He chuckles, deep and rumbling, before sipping some water. “Yesterday was fun.”

Yesterday involved fourteen hours of watching Doctor Who and passing half way through the nineteenth episode after stuffing yourself full of junk food. Yesterday involved passing out on Spencer, forcing him to move you to the couch and into a position that wasn’t going to destroy your neck. Yesterday involved the most platonic and innocent activities known to Earth, despite the way his words insinuated something entirely differently. 

“You fell asleep before the best part,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“You could have watched without me.”

He shakes his head as he stirs the sugar. “That wouldn’t have been right.”

A hum leaves your lips as you get up from the couch, stretching your arms and making your way over to him from behind the kitchen island. You’re wearing one of his old Doctor Who t-shirts that he let you keep, the sleeves reaching just past your elbows. Your hair is a mess and your eyes are half closed but you look so…

Cute. Seeing you in his shirt drives him wild. There’s something possessive about it and for a second he feels gross. He feels like he’s taking advantage of you but he’s obviously not; you’re the one who stole that shirt from him many moons ago and you’re the one who chose to wear it that day. Regardless, he can’t help but be transfixed as you walk around his kitchen like it’s your own home. Spencer’s eyes follow your figure as you pull open one of his cupboards and grab your mug (a really stupid avocado mug that’s bright green with a lid) before pouring some coffee into it. 

“You’ve been going to your NA meetings, right?” You ask him, sipping your drink.

He nods immediately, his gaze never leaving you. “Yeah. Once a week.”

“That’s good!” You tell him, the caffeine slowly beginning to wake you up. “That’s really good, Walter.”

He smiles at you, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank you.”

For a few moments, all he can think about is you. Your hair smells like your special vanilla shampoo that Penelope got you hooked on and your skin smells like lavender and orange blossom. He remembers JJ giving you a sample in the office and you went and ordered a whole bottle during your lunch break right after. The compliments you got that day were like no other, and he remembers the way your eyes would light up every single time someone commented on the perfume, as well as the way you would excitedly talk about the different notes. Now, whenever he smells lavender or oranges he thinks of you. He doesn’t think it’s a problem in the slightest.

You sip your coffee again, the sound of the toaster dinging in the background, accompanied by the thick smell of char. In an instant, Spencer jolts from his place and places two very burnt slices of toast onto the plate, his nose scrunching up in frustration. 

“I was gonna make you breakfast,” he tells you lamely. “I think we should get croissants.”

You laugh, dumping the pieces of toast into the bin and nod. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

*** 

The rare occasion when Spencer drives is when you’re not fit to. He picks you up at two in the morning at a bar and you’re sitting in his passenger seat. Your hair has a few tangles here and there and you’re wearing the prettiest purple dress. 

“You really didn’t have to pick me up,” you tell him tiredly, rubbing at your eyes. “I could have gotten a taxi.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, leaning over the console to buckle in your seatbelt. “You called me, I’m here. I’m not going to let you get into a stranger’s car when you’re drunk.”

 “I’m not drunk!” You protest, your head leaning against the car door. “I had one drink.”

“Which can lead to a blood alcohol level of 0.01 to 0.03,” Spencer says, shooting you a smile. “I’d rather not risk it, angel.”

You groan and lean back on the chair. “I swear I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t your friends take you home?” He asks, starting the ignition. “Didn’t you say you were going to hitch a ride with them?”

A hum leaves your lips and you nod. “That was the plan. But one of the designated drivers couldn’t come last minute and the car wasn’t big enough.”

Spencer frowns, backing out of the driveway. “How long were you waiting outside of the bar?”

“Um…” your brows furrow as you think of the answer and you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. “Ten minutes?”

“(Y/N).”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would have been that long,” you huff, rubbing at your eyes. “I promise I was careful.”

Spencer shoots you a frustrated look, sipping at his lukewarm takeaway cup of filtered coffee but keeping his eyes on the road. “You should have called me sooner.”

“I felt bad,” you respond sheepishly, offering him a guilty smile.

Spencer hums, running a hand through his hair. He hasn’t had the time to get it cut so for the time being it’s left slicked back and out of his eyes. He’s wearing his glasses now, too, because he didn’t have the time to put in his contacts. He looks a lot better than he did eight months ago, and he feels it, too. The white t-shirt he’s wearing is filled a little better now that he’s gained a little weight. Happy weight you had told him, pinching at his sides, it means you’re healing.

“Can you pull over?”

Your voice comes out small and Spencer snaps his head to look in your direction. “Yeah. Yeah, of course– hold on.”

He parks at a random McDonald’s on the side of the freeway and you immediately get out of the car and hurl in one of the bushes. He grimaces, getting out of the car to rub your back comfortingly.

“You okay?” He asks, continuing to rub circles on your back. He holds your hair away from your face, watches as your necklace dangles from your neck and catches the light from the 24/7 fast food place.

“... I might have had a little more than one drink.”

He can’t bring himself to get upset at you. Instead, Spencer just sighs and brandishes a bottle of water from the side pocket of his car. “Sip it slowly.”

You do as asked, taking small tentative sips of the cold water. He holds your hair in place, brushing a few strands away from your eyes and forehead. 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you taking a taxi,” Spencer says with a hum, satisfied when you finish drinking half the bottle. “What if you threw up in their car?”

You groan, wiping a hand over your face. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, angel,” he says sympathetically, lifting your chin with his index finger so that you’re looking at him. “I just worry. You should be able to rely on me, too, you know.”

“Okay,” you say through drunken stupor. “Didn’t mean to worry you, Walter.”

“I know,” he repeats softly, running his fingers through your hair. “Hey. Look up.”

You do, and you stare up at the sky. Stars dot and litter the navy sky, and if you squint you could see a faint blue star.

“That’s Venus,” he explains, gesturing to the little dot. He points to a smaller, redder light just below it. “That’s Mars.”

Even amidst the light pollution, the planets shine brightly. Your gaze is fixed upon the little planets and stars, enjoying the midsummer night’s breeze, the nausea you felt moments prior beginning to subside.

“Do you know what Venus represents?” Spencer asks softly, brushing his shoulder against yours, smiling when you shake your head. “Venus represents love and beauty in Roman mythology.”

You laugh, pressing your nose into his shoulder. “Do you believe that?”

“Scientifically? No,” he admits, “Venus is a planet. It doesn’t really represent anything but a giant ball of gas. But people place significance on insignificant things because it gives them meaning so I understand why they do it.”

It’s quiet for a little while, aside from the occasional sound of a car passing by and a cicada chirping. A cool breeze blows past but it’s more comforting than anything as the two of you sit on the hood of his car: an old 1965 Volvo Amazon in the colour blue horizon with paint chipping off at the inner fenders and bumper ends. He lets you sit on his jacket, your dress and legs protected from the dirty car bonnet. Your head is on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his and you’ve traded your heels for a pair of Spencer’s spare mis-matched socks.

“(Y/N),” he whispers, rubbing his hand on your arm. “We should get you home.”

You nod, wiggling your toes in the socks. “Yeah.”

Spencer pauses and looks at you, watching as you yawn and hop off the car. He says your name again, chuckling a little bit when you look up at him a little dazed. The words get caught in his chest as he takes a tentative step closer to you. You’re so close. Just one small move. That’s all it would take… he dismisses the thoughts when he can smell the liquor on your skin. 

“You’re my best friend,” he says quietly after several moments of silence. 

You smile at him. “You’re my best friend, too.”

He drives you home that day with more regret than necessary. He wishes he kissed you. It would have made his life so much easier.

← previous part || next part →

full work

reblogs are always appreciated!

[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.