#trench coat hotch>>>

[masterwords]

If you are receiving this, it is because you have a beautiful soul and you’re as cute as a button, this hellsite wouldn’t be the same without you 🤲🏼💖

Thank you anon! 🥰 As a token of my appreciation, can I interest you in this?

Or one of these?

Or perhaps this one is more your style.

[ssahoodrathotchner]

1x1 trench coat hotch my beloved. former seattle agent hotch my beloved. young hotch my beloved 😭😭😭

[heavenlybodies333]

Fatherless -S.R

Spencer Reid x Hotch’s daughter!reader

You hadn’t even wanted to stop by his office.

You were going to be late as it was—college friends already texting you asking where the hell you were, what you were wearing, if you were bringing anyone. And you'd been so damn close to skipping the good-daughter act, the polite goodbye before you threw yourself into basslines and tequila. But no. You always gave him that one last ounce of consideration.

Which made it worse.

Because you saw it—his hand on Emily’s hip, his head tipped low near her ear, the way she smiled like she had any right to. Your jaw clenched, fingers going numb around your phone.

Your chest twists painfully. She was your goddamn boss. Your dad’s subordinate. She was also kind, brilliant, and everything your mother was before years of neglect drained the life out of her.

It wasn’t even about Emily. Not really. It was about the way he touched her, softly, reverently—like he used to touch your mom.

Like he never touched you anymore. Not even in that gentle, fatherly way.

You hadn’t expected to cry in the elevator. But of course, you hadn’t expected to see your father practically pressed against Emily Prentiss’ desk either—his hand on her waist, her laugh soft and secretive, his expression the closest to affection you’d seen in months.

Maybe years.

Your heels clacked across the bullpen floor in staccato, and you swore someone called your name—but you didn’t stop. You threw open the elevator doors, jabbed the button for the lobby, and stepped inside like you were fleeing a fire. Because in a way, you were. The look on your dad’s face when you turned around, that half-step he took out of the office when he realized what you'd seen. But you were faster.

The elevator doors shut on his voice.

The elevator jolted to a stop on the next floor down, and—of course—it was him. Spencer Reid. Of fucking course. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

He stepped inside, trench coat half-draped across one arm, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

You turned your head away from him, scrubbing furiously under your eyes.

“Are you stalking me now Reid?” Your voice was sharp, but it cracked halfway through.

The doors slid shut. He shifted slightly closer to you as the elevator began its slow descent. “No, but I’m observant. It’s sort of in the job description.”

You laughed bitterly and kept your gaze trained on the floor numbers lighting up above the door. “Then you already know what I saw.”

“I saw you come out of your dad’s office. Did something—” he pauses, voice turning cautious, “did he yell at you again?”

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. “No. Guess he was too busy with Emily’s tongue down his throat.”

Spencer’s brows lift. His body straightens.

“They were—wait. Seriously?”

You nod, eyes flicking to him with venom. “Like, actually flirting. Like touching. Like she’s not just his coworker but his new thing now.” You sniff, clenching your jaw. “And my mom’s at home alone while he’s giving someone else all that attention she begged him for.”

You slump back against the elevator wall and glance at him, your voice quieter now. “I know they’re divorced. I know. But it’s not about him moving on. It’s about him doing it while still pretending I’m not even there. Like… I remind him of her, so it’s easier to just ignore me too.”

You draw in a slow breath, steadying yourself—but your eyes still burn and your fists are clenched at your sides. The image of your dad’s hand on Emily’s waist won’t stop looping through your mind like a cruel highlight reel.

“I’m sorry you saw that,” Spencer says at last, voice low and cautious.

You let out a sharp laugh. “Why? Because I interrupted their little office romance? Or because now I know why he can’t even look me in the eye half the time?”

“No,” Spencer says instantly, stepping a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Because it hurt you.”

You stiffen, throat tightening. “It shouldn’t matter this much, right? I’m an adult. I should be happy he’s—moving on. But it just makes me feel like…” You trail off, forcing the words down. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Not when it feels like the only time anyone even looks at you is when you're breaking.

Spencer hesitates. You can feel the weight of his thoughts again, the tension rolling off him. Then he speaks—softer now, like he’s afraid of how much he means it.

“You shouldn’t have to beg for attention from your own father.”

That strikes something inside you—something hot and raw and aching. You glance over at him sharply. “What would you know about fathers?”

Spencer flinches slightly, but doesn’t pull away. “More than you’d think.”

And that… that settles between you differently. There’s no pity in his voice, no condescension—just shared damage. A mirror of your own, cracked in a different place.

The elevator dings softly, pausing on a floor neither of you had requested. No one’s waiting. The doors slide closed again, giving you both a moment of suspended reality. Just you and him.

Your voice drops, hushed. “He loved my mom once. You could tell by the way he looked at her. And then he stopped. And now he looks at Emily like that. And I just—I hate it. I hate how easily he gives his affection to other people. Like I don’t even fucking exist.”

A silence stretches between you—laced with grief, “I don’t want to go home like this,” you murmur finally.

Spencer shifts slightly, eyes scanning your face. “Then don’t. Come to my place. Just for a while.”

You blink. “What?”

“You don’t have to be alone with this. You shouldn’t be.” He softens, and for the first time in weeks, someone’s looking at you like you matter. “Come over. I’ll make tea and cry if you want to.”

“I’m not going to cry,” you lie.

He doesn’t call you on it. Just offers a quiet smile and steps closer, brushing your hand with his fingers. “Then you can just sit there and tell me everything you’ve been holding in. Or we don’t talk at all. Either way—I don’t want you driving like this.”

You hesitate for one beat.

Then nod. “Okay.”

The elevator dings again, this time at the lobby.

Spencer steps out first, casting a glance back over his shoulder to make sure you’re still with him. You follow, silent, still wrapped in the anger and grief—but now something else is threaded through it.

Because when Spencer opens the car door for you, and you slide in beside him, there’s a moment where your knees touch—and neither of you moves. And when he reaches over to buckle your seatbelt, his hand lingers a fraction too long at your shoulder. And when you turn your head to thank him, his eyes are already on your lips.

This night is far from over.

His apartment was dimly lit, warm with soft yellow light and shelves upon shelves of books you could drown in. He let you in without saying much, his movements quiet and careful.

“I can make tea,” he offered, already walking toward the kitchen.

“You think I’m overreacting,” you said, turning to face him fully. “Don’t you?”

“No.” He looked at you, really looked. “I think you’re hurt. And you’re angry. And you should be.”

“I stayed with him after the divorce. I thought—God, I thought maybe if I stayed, he’d at least see me. That maybe I’d be enough to matter. But I look like her. And I think that’s why he stopped talking to me too.”

Reid didn’t speak. He just stepped forward. And when his hand touched your cheek, it was so gentle it made your heart ache.

“You matter to me.”

Spencer stepped closer, his voice low. “You’re not just angry about them. Are you?”

You turned your head slowly toward him, the venom in your gaze starting to melt into something else. Lust. Pain. Both.

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Reid,” you said, but it lacked conviction.

He stepped closer. And closer. Until your back hit the wall and his chest was barely brushing yours.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “I just hate watching you pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Your jaw clenched. “He left her. Left me. And now he’s… giving that to someone else? And I’m supposed to be fine with it?”

“You shouldn’t go out tonight,” he said softly.

“I’m not drunk yet.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You tilted your head. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant…” His voice dropped. “You’re angry. You’re vulnerable. And you’re looking for a distraction.”

You licked your lips, slow and deliberate, leaning into him. “The only distraction I’m looking for right now, is you”

“You sure?” he asked, breath shaky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, biting his lower lip, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I will go find someone else.”

You surged forward, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, dragging him in like you needed his mouth just to breathe. The kiss was messy and brutal and devastatingly soft all at once—your grief bleeding into it, your rage and ache tangling in every movement.

He pushed you against the wall with more force now, mouth feverish, greedy. You didn’t realize you were moaning until he groaned in return, like the sound was some kind of trigger.

His hands slid under your dress, up your thighs, fingertips skimming higher until they found your lace panties.

“You wore these to the office?” he muttered against your throat, voice low and dark.

“Was going out after,” you gasped, rocking into his touch. “Didn’t know I’d end up here.”

You moaned as his hands slid up your legs, under your skirt, gripping your ass with bruising force as he hoisted you. You wrapped your legs around him without thinking, your back pressing hard to the wall as he carried you toward his bedroom like he was possessed.

He hooked a hand behind your knee and pulled your leg over his shoulder, dipping his head down between your thighs with zero hesitation. His tongue was hot and wet and filthy, and when he groaned against you like this was what he needed too, your head hit the pillow and your fingers dug into his hair like you were holding on for dear life.

He licked and sucked and devoured you, hands pinning your hips down so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You came with a choked sound, thighs trembling, and he didn’t stop—just slowed, gentled, let you ride it out with his name on your lips and his mouth buried in your body.

When he finally rose, face slick, eyes dark, you grabbed him by the waistband of his pants and tugged. “Now. I need you now.”

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips swollen, his hair a mess. You barely had time to catch your breath before you reached down, hand wrapping around him—hard, thick, twitching against your palm.

His breath stuttered. “Jesus Christ—”

You grinned, rolling him onto his back, straddling his hips. “You said tonight was about me, right?”

He groaned, head falling back against the pillows. “You’re going to kill me.”

You leaned down and kissed him, slow and filthy. “Good.”

You sank down onto him in one smooth motion—and the sound he made was primal.

You rocked against him slowly, hips grinding as you set the pace—deep and delicious and possessive. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist, trying to control himself, but it was useless. You felt too good, too perfect, too right.

He thrust up to meet you, rhythm building, the room filled with panting breaths and broken curses.

“You feel—fuck—so good,” he rasped, hands roaming your back, your thighs. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

Your breath left your lungs in a rush, head tilting back with a whimper. He swore under his breath, gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned.

You clenched around him involuntarily, a needy noise escaping your throat. “Don’t be sweet to me. Not tonight.”

You gasped, arms wrapping around his neck as he started to move—deliberate, punishing thrusts that hit every broken place in you and filled them with heat instead of grief. His mouth found your collarbone, your throat, your jaw. He was everywhere.

“You’re not invisible,” Spencer gasped, as if reading your thoughts. “You’re not replaceable. Not to me. Not ever.”

Your breath caught, and then your second orgasm hit, you clung to him, your nails raking his back, and his rhythm faltered as he groaned low in your ear.

“I’m close,” he rasped. “Tell me—tell me where.”

“Inside,” you whispered, dazed and wrecked. “I don’t care, just—fuck, just do it.”

His restraint crumbled. He came, hips stuttering, arms shaking as he buried himself deep and spilled into you. It was rough, messy, desperate—the kind of climax that felt more like a breakdown. Like a release you’d both been craving for far too long.

Your body trembled as you collapsed against him, chest pressed to his, skin hot and flushed and damp with sweat. For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moved—just your heartbeats thudding against one another

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Your voice was raw. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know.”

“I just—” Your breath hitched. “I didn’t want to feel invisible tonight.”

“You weren’t.” He reached up, thumb stroking the skin just beneath your eye. “Not to me.”

That did it. A single tear slipped free before you could stop it. You moved to pull away, to hide your face, but Spencer sat up with you, arms still wrapped around your waist.

He caught your chin gently, guiding your eyes back to his. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did. And you wished you hadn’t. Because there was something devastatingly tender in his expression—like he’d seen you fractured and bleeding and still wanted every sharp piece.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whispered.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel better after fucking me.”

Spencer shook his head, eyes locked on yours. “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for you. I’m doing it because I care about you. Because this…” His voice dropped, rough and weighted. “This wasn’t just about sex. Not for me, I care so much for you.”

You closed your eyes, his words settling into your bones.

Then you pulled the comforter up over both of you, his arms wrapping around you again as your head came to rest on his chest. His fingers found your spine and traced it lazily, grounding you with every pass.

The weight of the day didn’t vanish. The ache of your father’s distance, the sting of seeing him with someone else—it didn’t magically go away.

But here, in Spencer’s bed, wrapped up in the only person who’d made you feel real in weeks—it didn’t matter quite as much.

The digital clock on Spencer’s kitchen wall blinked 2:13 AM in quiet mockery.

You blinked back at it, mind spinning, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your skin like a second pulse. You didn’t mean to stay that long. You didn’t mean to stay at all. But he’d looked at you like you were worth hearing. Like you were worth touching.

Now the silence afterward buzzed loud in your ears, a different kind of adrenaline creeping in—because the fog was lifting and your dad was expecting you home. Hours ago.

“Shit,” you whispered, bolting upright and tugging your top back into place. Spencer’s arm moved lazily across the bed, fingers curling around your wrist like a silent stay—but you shook your head with a half-laugh.

“He’s gonna fucking kill me,” you muttered, sliding off the bed and grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

Spencer sat up slowly, still bare from the waist up, his hair tousled like sin and sleep. “Want me to call you a car?”

You nodded, trying not to stare at the light bruises blooming along your hips where his mouth had lingered like he meant it.

He smiled faintly, slipping from the bed to walk you out. “Text me when you get in?”

You paused in the doorway, heart pounding again—but this time for a different reason. You looked back at him, eyes scanning the way his lips were still kiss-bitten and red. “You’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen, are you?”

Spencer’s eyes sharpened, his voice low. “Not a chance.”

You didn’t trust yourself to answer that—so you just left.

The air was cooler than you expected when you stepped out of the car, the soft click of your heels echoing against the driveway. You tilted your head back toward the night sky and groaned, the stars overhead mocking you with their indifference.

Of course the kitchen light was still on.

Because why wouldn’t it be?

“Oh come on,” you hissed, dragging a hand down your face. You tossed a glare skyward like the universe might answer for its crimes. “Why do you hate me?” you muttered under your breath. “Was I a dictator in a past life?”, dragging your fingers through your hair as you yanked your keys from the depths of your bag.

You were already hours late. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be out at all—not on a weekday, not when you were living under your father’s roof again for the semester and interning at the BAU. You weren’t even supposed to be drinking, let alone fucking one of his agents.

Oops.

You opened the door with a practiced silence, the kind you’d perfected years ago as a teenager—before parties, sneaking in from dates, trying not to wake him when he was fresh off a case. The door clicked softly behind you, and you set your bag down with practiced ease.

You freeze, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. One voice is his. Low. Familiar. Controlled in the way only someone like him can be while still audibly enjoying himself.

The other? High. Feminine. Smooth. Emily fucking Prentiss.

Your spine straightened.

Oh, fuck that.

Your feet carried you forward before your brain could stop them, steps slow and deliberate as you crossed the living room and padded toward the kitchen. The light pooled out into the hallway like a spotlight waiting for you to walk into it.

You rounded the corner. And there they were.

Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss, sitting side-by-side at the kitchen island with drinks in hand, paperwork spread between them like some domestic goddamn dream. He was leaning just close enough to count as familiar, smiling at something she’d said. Emily’s legs were crossed elegantly, her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass, laughter still dancing in her eyes.

Your father’s head turned at the sound of your steps.

Emily’s did too.

You didn’t stop walking until you stood just inside the threshold.

You didn’t look at her.

You looked straight at your father.

And then you said it.

“I had sex with Spencer,” you said calmly.

A full beat of silence.

“I thought you should know,” you add, voice cold and surgical. “Since we’re sharing things now.”

Your dad blinked once. Then twice. The blood drained from his face, replaced by an unreadable tension that locked his jaw tight and froze his shoulders in place like he’d just taken a bullet to the chest.

Emily choked on nothing.

Her eyes went wide, darting between you and your father like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. Her wine glass clinked as she set it down on the counter too quickly. “I—excuse me—” she began, then stopped herself, clearly realizing there was no safe place to go next.

Your father stood slowly, his knuckles whitening against the edge of the countertop.

“What did you just say?”

You lifted your chin, ignoring the tremble in your spine, the way your heart was thrashing in your chest like it wanted out. “You heard me.”

He exhaled slowly. “That’s completely inappropriate—”

You smiled then, sharp and satisfied. “Oh! You mean like how you weren’t just pressed against Emily in your office three hours ago?”

That hit. Hard.

Emily just stared at you with wide, stunned eyes like she wanted to disappear. You ignored her entirely. You didn’t even look at her. This wasn’t about her.

You and your father stood in the silence that followed, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in between you like a loaded gun.

He finally spoke, voice hoarse with disbelief. “You slept with Spencer?”

“I did,” you said, still calm. “In his apartment. After you drove me to lose my goddamn mind tonight.”

His eyes closed. Just for a second. Like he was holding in an explosion.

You dropped your purse on the table and turned for the stairs, voice icy as you added over your shoulder, “But don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be sure to keep it professional in the office. Just like you do.”

“I’m your father,” Hotch snapped, stepping forward now, his voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. “This is not acceptable.”

“Oh, now you’re my father?” Your voice rose, just slightly. “Funny how that only comes out when it’s your feelings on the line. Not when I’m crying in the elevator or begging for scraps of your attention.”

“You don’t get to stand there and pretend like this is the same,” he hissed, pointing between you and the counter, between you and Emily. “You’re my daughter. And he’s—”

You watched the blood drain from his face, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck straining like he was fighting not to throw the glass against the wall. Slowly, his eyes met yours, and the expression behind them—shock, betrayal, fury—nearly made you grin.

Oh, that’s the version of him you remembered.

The one that got like this when you missed curfew. When you got suspended that one time for fighting a boy who tried to grab your ass. When you told him to fuck off at fourteen because he refused to come to your recital. That familiar, righteous, controlling rage that made you feel like you were still just a little girl breaking his rules in the only ways that made him notice you.

Only now you weren’t a little girl.

You were a grown woman. And you’d just fucked his best profiler.

“Get out.”

You blinked, feigning confusion. “I live here.”

“I don’t give a damn,” he snapped. “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You weren’t going to.

“You really think you get to act shocked?” you said softly, dangerously. “You’re here playing house with her like we’re not all pretending it’s fine that you forgot how to love the first family you had. You’re the one who stopped showing up, Dad. Don’t get pissed at me for finally finding someone who did.”

His jaw ticked. Emily touched his arm gently, a silent plea.

“Don’t,” you said instantly, your eyes cutting to her. “You don’t get to make him soft. Not when he couldn’t be bothered to remember my birthday last year.”

Emily flinched. You didn’t care. This wasn’t for her. It was for him.

You turned toward the stairs. “You wanted me to be an adult, right?” you tossed over your shoulder. “Welcome to the consequences.”

a/n: so many daddy issues like what the hell

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[thesirencove]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ NEAL CAFFREY X FEM!READER & SPENCER REID X EX!READER -- THE FLIP SIDE OF ILLICIT AFFAIRS

hi y'all ! my apologies for the wait on this one . this semester came in and really pulled the rug out from under me . my classes were much harder than expected (damn you gen chem 2 & microecon) and i got hit with a wave of writer's block on top of it :') BUT i'm getting my degree so yay to that !! apologies if any of the characters seem out of character (especially spencer lol) , i kinda let my creative liberty go wild with this one .

to anon , i am so sorry for the long wait on this one . i hope that the longer word count and care i put into this fic to make it perfect will make up for it 💓

my requests at this moment are closed as i get to other requests and finish up finals . i'll make an announcement when they're open again , which will hopefully be soon as i'm starting to see the light at the end of the cave again :) i hope you've all been doing well , and enjoy !

neal caffrey x fem!reader (romantic) ; spencer reid x ex!reader

summary: when someone from the past enters her life again , neal is the rock she needs as she relives the time when everything came crashing down years ago . based on this request !

warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of a rocky relationship, mentions of cheating, probably ooc spencer reid!!!!!, asshole spencer, mentions of serial killers & murder (and in general what the bau does), death (off-page), hotch is like a dad to y/n, maybe ooc hotch??, as minimal as possible use of y/n in the fic, probably also ooc aaron hotcher, lowkey no closure?? reader is honestly vibing but reid is not lol, spencer is a dick

word count: 10.8k

winters in new york were always brutal. snow was piled across the streets. snowflakes floated down, sticking to her cheeks and eyelashes. her lips were blue and cracked from how cold and drying the weather was. the roads were so icy it was a miracle if she hadn’t fallen on her ass at least once on her way to the office. 

there was a lingering sense of coldness that stayed with her, even once safely inside the FBI building. the heat radiating from the HVAC system wasn’t fast or warm enough to make anyone feel like they’d completely escaped the freezing weather outdoors. slipping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the 19th floor, bouncing on the balls of her feet, hoping the movement would help get some feeling back into her toes. the elevator came to a stop, followed by a ding as the doors creaked open. she walked out, turning towards the glass doors that separated the white collar office from the elevators. she smiled through them at her friend, diana, who was sitting on the further end of the room. pushing the doors open, she walked towards her desk as she took the long, insulated puffer jacket off her shoulders, keeping her fleece trench coat on for the time being. 

looking up towards peter’s office, she noticed neal standing there, talking to peter. there was a case file in peter’s hand, and though neal had his back turned towards her, his shoulders slightly tense. he was good at hiding his tells, but after knowing him for the past three years and dating him for two, she picked up on little things like that. her eyebrows furrowed, wondering what was happening in that office. 

it wasn’t long before neal exited the office, his shoulders rigid. peter sighed, calling diana over. neal stalked towards y/n, a smile adorning his face despite the clear frustration he held within him.

“hey, love, everything okay?” she asked, her left hand moving to grab onto his arm and rub it soothingly. 

“yeah, come get coffee with me at the cart?” he looked at the elevators, eyeing them in a way that made her wonder on what he was waiting to hop out of those doors. 

usually, she’d complain about not wanting to go outside again after having just gotten out of the cold. her toes were finally regaining feeling, too. but something in her stirred to go with neal, to figure out what was running through his head. she knew it had to do something with the case file peter had in his hand. 

so instead of whining about the cold, she simply pulled her long puffed jacket off the back of her chair and reaching to intertwine her hand with neal’s. 

it didn’t take long before they made it to the coffee cart, and she was still freezing, but the warmth radiating from neal’s body helped. they got their coffees and began to slowly walk back to the office. she noticed neal wasn’t in as much of a rush to get back as he was to initially leave the building. 

“is everything okay, neal?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. 

they both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. she was faced towards him, and neal still stood ready to walk back towards the office. he sighed, looking at the ground for a second before picking his head back up and facing her. 

“the most recent case peter got involves a murder,” he started.

“okay? neal, you know i’m used to that. i used to work at-”

“the BAU office in quantico, i know. that’s the thing.” 

it clicked the second he said “that’s the thing.” she eyed him in confusion, still not fully sure if he was alluding to what she assumed. 

“are you trying to tell me that my old team is going to be here to work on the case with us?” she asked, not wanting to tip-toe around the subject any further. neal nodded, eyeing her with a look that said, “i’m sorry,” and, “i tried to convince peter otherwise.” 

it had been three years since she left the BAU, leaving behind her life in quantico to start a job in a new field here in new york. going from solving cases about serial killers to hunting down white collar criminals was a switch, but it was one she needed. she’d adjusted to her new job quite easily, quickly becoming part of the white collar family. she lost one family, but gained another, and she wouldn’t change things. maybe once she would have, at the very start. now, there’s no chance in hell she’d give up neal. 

“it’s okay,” she said, finally, after what felt like eons of silence, “i was bound to see them again someday anyways, no?” 

she smiled up at neal, rising to her tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips. her nose hit his in the process, which was freezing cold, making her shiver. 

“c’mon,” she started, “let’s get going back to the office. we need to get briefed on the new case.” 

she slipped her hand in his, coffee warm in her other hand, and once again began walking back towards the office. she began telling him about a funny conversation she’d overheard in a coffee shop the other day. neal listened intently, commenting every so often. but in his head, he was thinking about her reaction to her old team coming to work on the case with them. he was surprised at how cool she was about this, but he also knew she’d been healed for a while. she was secure, safe in her relationship with neal. happy with him. they both were. 

she had been a wreck when she first moved to new york. cases with the bau were mentally taxing, but she always had an escape in her team. they were her closest friends and family at the time. and once, long ago, spencer was who she perceived as the love of her life. she’d fallen for the hair, the smile, the eyes that sparkled every time he spewed random facts that no one would know, except for him. she’d fallen for everything about him. at one point, before everything fell apart, she even thought he’d be her husband. 

· · three years ago · ·

her keys jangled in her hand as she fumbled with the lock, trying to get the door to the apartment open. she had stayed overnight at the bau office, working on reports to get to hotch. she wanted to have them all done, so wouldn’t have to do them later on top of the next pile of reports sent her way. the hallway was dim, the overhead lights slowly dying. some were flickering. others were already out. 

she finally got the door open, sighing with relief when she felt the handle twist. the cool air from inside hit her face, and she could smell one of her mahogany candles burning. she smiled, closing the door behind her and hanging her jacket on the hooks near the door. 

“spencer!” she called out, not seeing him in the kitchen or living room. 

she faintly heard the words, “i have to go, she’s home,” coming from her and spencer’s shared bedroom. she wondered who he could possibly be on the phone with this late. he came out from the room, a small smile on his face. she held her arms out, and he enveloped her in a hug. she wasn’t sure if it was her mind running rampant with the one sentence she’d heard him say, or if something was truly different, but the hug didn’t feel as tight or warm as usual. 

“who was that on the phone with you?” she asked, pulling away from the hug and looking up at him. something shifted slightly in his face. panic, guilt. it wasn’t a shift she wanted to see.

“oh, that was just morgan. got back from a date and wanted to tell me about it,” he answered, voice flat. 

she smiled at him, slipping out of his arms and towards their bedroom. she was tired, and he was lying. she had said goodbye to morgan on her way out of the office. it couldn’t have been him on the phone, it was virtually impossible that he’d gone on a date and called spencer to tell him about it within the thirty minutes it took her to get home. she could tear him a new one right now. tell him to stop lying, to tell her who it really was. instead, she kept herself calm, slowly getting ready for bed. brushing her hair, braiding it, then brushing her teeth. she started her skincare routine now. 

“i assume he had a good date? they usually go well,” she laughed at the last sentence. it took every ounce of strength she had to cover the bitterness in her voice. 

“yeah,” spencer responded, “i think he really likes her. he was even talking about taking her on another date.”

she didn’t respond, merely nodding as she put her pajamas on, a matching set. they were adorned with various teddy bears, some with pink bows and others in blue t-shirts. walking out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom, she pulled the covers off her side of the bed and hid herself into the warmth of the blankets. spencer walked behind her, moving to his side and doing the same. 

“night, spence,” she whispered, turning the lamp light off and curling into herself. 

“goodnight,” he muttered back. there was no, “my love,” or “sweetheart.” there was simply “goodnight” and that was it. 

she feigned sleep as her thoughts ran wild in her head. she hated the fact spencer was lying to her. she hated that she was too tired to do anything about it, wanting to push it away as nothing. wanting to protect herself with the lies she convinced herself were real �� he wasn’t doing anything, he was talking to her mother, or a friend, he was planning a surprise and didn’t want to spoil it. over and over in her head, she came up with every possibility she could pretend was real.

she thought back to what the past few months have been like. the bau has been swamped with cases, a new one coming in back to back with the others. it had been nonstop flying and solving serial killings. the lack of affection between her and spencer recently hadn’t posed any red flags until now. she just assumed they were both tired, overworked. 

three hours after she first climbed into bed, she knew spencer was asleep. slowly pushing herself up, she got out of bed, tip toeing to spencer’s side of the bed. she felt like shit doing this, never wanting to become this kind of girlfriend. the one who has a hunch her boyfriend is cheating and goes through his phone. still, she needed to know. she couldn’t let herself stay if he was going to leave. she picked his phone up, looking through the call logs. her eyebrows furrowed as she saw there was nothing recent. she put his phone back down, checking to make sure he was still asleep. he had barely moved, his breathing shallow as he slept. 

instead of getting back in bed, she pulled the drawers open, shuffling through them quietly. looking for a burner phone, for any sign of his infidelity. she decided to slip her hand beneath the cabinet, knowing there was no harm in at least looking. it was then that she felt a small, hard block carefully placed on a wooden ledge that jutted towards the center of the cabinet. she pulled it out, turning the phone on. a slew of messages appeared on the screen.

i miss you

i had fun talking to you last night

i want to meet up soon

what about your girlfriend?

she doesn’t matter to me. you do.

i love you.

each and every word on the screen blended together, tears forming in her eyes. she could barely read the messages as her vision blurred. she checked the call logs, and her heart plummeted when she saw just how often spencer had been talking with this girl. maeve, according to the contact name and the few times spencer mentioned her name in conversation. she scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, trying to figure out just how long this had been going on for. the first call had been six months ago. 

she nearly threw up. bile burned the back of her throat as she held a hand over her mouth, trying not to make any noise. she stood up, her knees wobbling slightly, and tip toed to her side of the bed again. she took the burner phone with her, picking up her own phone and snapping as many pictures as she could of the messages, the calls, everything. the thoughts that ran through her head as she did it were so loud that she could feel her head start to hurt. she put the burner phone back in its place, taking her phone with her to the bathroom. she locked the door behind her. 

the moment the lock clicked, her legs gave out. she slid to the floor, her back pressing against the vanity sink. opposite her was the bathroom closet, the doors made of mahogany. she traced the patterning on the wood with her eyes. everything she’d just read was too much, she couldn’t properly process it. she felt weird for not being able to shed any more tears than she did when she first found the messages.

spencer was cheating on her. how could he cheat on her? what happened to the sweet boy she once knew? the one who would bring her a pain au chocolat in the mornings, knowing she often skipped out on breakfast. the one who would leave flowers on her desk. the one who would stick cute messages adorned with a smiley face and heart on the mirror in the mornings for her to see. she wasn’t sure what happened along the way to change things this drastically, to distance him from her to the point he resorted to… this. to illicit affairs. 

what the hell is she supposed to do now? pack a bag of things, and leave? penelope would take her in. emily or jj would, too. hell, any of the members of her team would take her in right now. they weren’t just coworkers, they were her family. she recalled the time she first joined the team. from the jump, hotch treated her like a daughter. it was a tough job, and it’s not like he babied her. and yet, the fondness he had for her was unlike any other. the dad who raised her might’ve been hundreds of miles away, but she still had a dad in quantico.

she couldn’t bear to work with spencer anymore, she knew that for sure. but she also knew spencer was a pinnacle asset to the team. she was, too, sure, but he was the one with the eidetic memory. there was no fair comparison, in her mind. she would have to be the one to leave. 

she put her hands on the floor, the soft bristles of the plush, white rug on the floor digging into her hands, shivering as she felt part of her palm slip onto the tile. she took a second, closing her eyes, breathing, before pushing herself up to standing. pushing her ear to the door, listening for any movement outside, she tried to figure out if spencer had woken up. she was met with soft snores, and knew he was still asleep. 

she opened the bathroom closet door as quietly as she could, pulling out her go-bag and a second bag to put some of her stuff in. anything she couldn’t fit she would just pick up later. or maybe she’d just ask one of the team members to get it for her later. 

her heart was pounding, nearly tearing through her chest, as she tiptoed around their shared bedroom, carefully taking her favorite clothing pieces and the essentials, then making her way back to the bathroom and quietly packing everything in there. it was truly a miracle that spencer hadn’t stirred the whole time, sleeping like it’d been ages since he last slept a full night. 

yeah, no shit, he’s been fucking around with another woman for months, she thought to herself. 

once everything was packed, she carefully slipped out of the bathroom, picking up her phone and keys. she was out of the bedroom and entered the main room. it was an open floor plan, with the kitchen opening up into their little living room. her shoes were by the door, and her coat was still resting on the hook she placed it on. she took a glance at the sight in front of her. it was dark, and she could barely see anything, but the moonlight shone into the room enough for her to take it all in. the couch they sat on night after night, watching their favorite show. the countertop in the kitchen they’d have breakfast in. the little trinkets she’d set up in every corner she could. 

all of it, all of the love she poured into everything, for what? 

and with that last glance, feeling her heart break as a lump formed in her throat, she gripped her bags tighter, and walked to the door. she put her shoes on quickly, pressing one hand against the wall as she bent to the side and used the other to get the shoe over her heel. her go bag was slung over her right shoulder, second bag in the left hand as she twisted the door handle. it creaked, causing her to wince at the sound. still, she left as quickly as possible, running down the hallway of their apartment building as quickly as possible, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. 

her teddy bear pajamas clung to her body as she ran, thinking about how stupid she probably looked. each flight of stairs she took went faster and faster, whipping past her eyeline and making her slightly dizzy. though, the dizziness was likely also a side-effect of all the feelings spinning in her head. 

once she reached the ground floor, concrete hard on her feet through the shoes as she jumped the last three steps, she pulled her keys out of the side of her go bag, immediately unlocking her car as she ran to it. the lights flashed red and yellow, and for a split second she worried she’d break the door with how hard she pulled it open. the bags were thrown on her passenger seat as she slid into the seat. closing the door, she clicked the lock button, car beeping, and brought the engine to life. 

in mere minutes, her relationship with spencer had fallen apart. she packed her bags and ran from him. ran from everything. she couldn’t bear to be in that room, to sleep next to him for one more night. she simply needed out.

pulling onto the road, she didn’t know what to do. should she just leave? never look back, find somewhere else to go and make a life for herself there? does she go to garcia’s and spend the night there? what would happen tomorrow, when she went to work and spencer asked her where half her things went? when he asked why she left in the middle of the night?

she found herself sitting in her car, outside of hotch’s apartment. she wasn’t sure why, or how she really got here. she just drove and drove, and suddenly came to a stop here. the rough plan at the moment was to knock on his door, tell him she’s resigning, and figure out a department to transfer to. somewhere far away, preferably. she turned her keys in the ignition, turning the car off and making her way to hotch’s door. she wasn’t sure what she’d say, or if it was stupid for her to be here, but this is where she ended up. outside her work-dad’s door. he’d know what to do, right? 

for fuck’s sake, you’re an FBI agent and you can’t even figure out what to do about your boyfriend cheating on you, she thought to herself, raising her hand to knock on his door. after a few seconds, she heard the flick of a light switch and saw light flood in beneath the door. the quiet thudding of feet against floorboards could be heard, and in seconds the door was open. hotch stood before her in plaid blue pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. 

she opened her mouth to say something, but instead she lost any ability to speak. her face crumpled, and she began sobbing, falling into hotch. his face contorted into worry as he caught her, holding her up. 

“i’m sorry,” she whispered between sobs. 

hotch shushed her, rubbing his hand against her shoulder. he pulled her into the apartment, locking the door behind them, and set her on the couch. she wiped the tears beneath her eyes, sniffling hard as she felt snot start to come out of her nose. a box of tissues was placed on the table in front of her, and she immediately took hold of them. hotch waited until she had calmed down enough to speak before saying anything.

“what happened?” he asked, his usually stoic demeanor shattered at the state of her. 

“he cheated on me. he’s been cheating on me, for months now.” she wasn’t sure what to say, but she told him everything. what she heard him saying on the phone, the lie he told about morgan that made her suspicious, the burner phone she found underneath the bedside table. she even went as far as pulling her own phone, handing it to hotch open to all the pictures of the messages she found. she watched as hotch’s expression became angrier and angrier. 

“in all my years in the bau, and knowing spencer, this is one thing i did not see coming,” he said, his voice harsh when he uttered spencer’s name. she laughed bitterly in response.

“you think you’re shocked, imagine being his girlfriend.”

they were quiet for a few seconds, both gathering their thoughts.

“what do you want to do?” hotch asked her.

“i don’t know. all i know is i can’t work with him anymore.”

“okay. it won’t be difficult to get another department to take him, but–”

“no, hotch. i have to be the one to leave. i can’t stay in the bau, stay in this city, knowing i could run into him at any moment. i can’t stay here, knowing that each time i sit at my desk, i’ll remember him sitting across from me. i can’t walk past the coffee shop i go to every morning knowing that my memories of him are there. i just can’t,” she told him, her voice pleading. 

hotch nodded. he understood her. he’d want her to stay. hell, in an ideal situation none of this would be happening. but it is happening, and he knows that if it were him in her place, he’d want out, too. he stayed silent, thinking where he could transfer her to. he knew she’d want to go far away, but selfishly he wanted it to be somewhere close enough that he could still come visit the girl that became like his daughter. 

he knew exactly where to send her. it’d be entirely different from the work the bau did, but it’d still be good. hell, he could even say it’d be fun, in a way. and there was a good challenge for her there, a criminal consultant that would keep her head running at all times. it was the kind of job that was perfect for her. plus, he knew peter burke pretty well, and he knew that she’d be safe with him there. peter knew that she was like hotch’s daughter, and peter himself was the kind of guy to treat his fellow agents like family. yeah, the white collar unit would be perfect. 

“there’s a job available. it’s in new york,” he held his finger up when she opened her mouth to protest the location, “i know you want somewhere further away, but i think you’ll fall in love with it. trust me. the white collar department is looking for a new agent. they have a criminal consultant, which could be an interesting addition for you,” hotch continued speaking, and she listened, but let her mind drift ever so slightly.

she liked the prospect of going to new york. the white collar department was drastically different from the bau, and she actually quite liked that. it wouldn’t be as horrific as looking at dead bodies daily, and maybe even slightly less dangerous than getting kidnapped by a serial killer who had a liking for women who looked like her. 

“i’ll take it,” she said in the middle of one of hotch’s sentences. he smiled lightly, nodding at her. 

they spent the rest of the night talking, figuring out the transfer. he, of course, had papers on hand for her to sign and sent a message to special agent peter burke about the transfer. at 7:03am on the dot, they got a response from peter. 

great! can’t wait to meet her. the earlier she can start, the better, but the latest would be monday the fifteenth.

that was 10 days away. she decided she’d leave earlier. hotch promised he’d have her stuff sent to her new apartment there, once she got one. he sent another message to peter, asking for apartment rental information and letting him know that she’d be there earlier. 

hotch and peter texted back and forth for a while, and she got impatient, trying to glance at the screen. she was able to see a few messages, where hotch mentioned the reason for her transfer. in another message, peter said that he and his wife would be happy to take her in for a few days as she hunts for apartments. she was wary about it, not wanting to intrude or become an inconvenience. still, it was better than paying for a hotel room until she found an apartment. i’ll find a place to live within the first week there, that way i’m not being too much of a burden for too long, she told herself.

this was it. in one night, her entire life had fallen apart. she left her boyfriend. she quit her job, and found a new one. she was leaving her closest family, and going somewhere completely different. hotch took her into a hug, savoring the last few moments they’d have together. sure, he’d visit, maybe, but this was goodbye for the time being. he made her promise to text and call, and to keep him updated on everything in new york. she swore to it. 

leaving hotch’s apartment, she was a new woman. she turned on her phone, sending spencer a quick message before blocking him. i know about maeve. we’re over. don’t try contacting me ever again. hotch will get my stuff for me in the next few days. fuck you. 

just a few hours ago, she was terrified about what would happen next. now, she sat in her car, ready to drive to new york. she was excited. the heartbreak wouldn’t leave her, not for a while. she’d cry and wish things were different and wonder to herself what went wrong. she’d think about what was wrong with her that made spencer want to cheat on her. she’d wish she’d have stayed for one more day, just so she could’ve smacked spencer square in the face. but now there was a needle and thread in the form of the white collar unit in new york, and it was ready to stitch together the broken pieces of her heart. 

· · present time · ·

“love? hello? where did you go?” neal said, waving his hand in front of her face. they were stood outside the white collar building now. 

“sorry, sorry. i was thinking,” she said, frowning slightly. 

she felt stupid for having been quiet for so long. neal only smiled, giving her a quick kiss. 

“hey, it’s okay. you don’t have to say sorry,” he said.

he squeezed her hand, a silent message that he’d be here the whole time. that she didn’t have to worry about anything, that he’d understand. he was good to her in that way. he was good to her in many ways, but something that especially stood out was how patient he was with her. since the start of their relationship, he’d been incredibly patient with her. not only considering the job she once had, as a bau agent, but how things ended there. he never wanted to treat her the same way. he never would treat her the same way. she didn’t know, but he silently promised to himself that he’d change her outlook on love entirely. that he’d help her be unafraid to not just be in love but to fall into it, and keep falling. he kept that promise, fulfilling it every single day. 

the two of them walked inside the building, making their way up the elevator, back to the office. on the ride up, they talked about their dinner plans tonight. they were planning on having a little gathering, the two of them with mozzie, peter, and elizabeth. she laughed about their previous mini dinner party, which ended with mozzie getting so drunk he started reciting a random shakespeare play. hand in hand, they pushed the door open to the office, her in the middle of laughing about the memory. neal smiled at her so brightly that his cheeks hurt. anyone looking at them could tell that he was infatuated with her. he wasn’t just in love with her. he was completely consumed by her existence. 

that killed spencer. he was standing at the top of the stairs, near peter’s office, arms crossed as he stared at his former love. her laugh was one that no one could forget, causing him to turn immediately when he heard it flutter into the conference slash makeshift interrogation room. he immediately clocked neal’s hand intertwined with hers, and the pain in his chest was palpable at the sight. it pissed him off, quite frankly. morgan appeared behind him, tapping him and then motioning to get back in the room. when spencer didn’t move, morgan spoke.

“you were the one who fucked up, man. you cheated on her, not the other way around. now get back in the room and do your damn job,” he said, his voice short, full of distaste. 

the events of three years ago were a sensitive spot for the bau. spencer was the one who made her leave so abruptly, without so much as a goodbye – other than a few texts and calls after she’d settled into new york – and it made everyone angry. she was family to the bau, and losing her was difficult. it was even more frustrating knowing that spencer was the cause of it. all because he was a dumbfuck who couldn’t keep it in his pants. he may have a high iq, but he was a fucking dumbass in the eyes of love. there was a huge bandaid over the situations, and tensions had almost fully resolved over the years, but being here – seeing her again – had made things hard for everyone again. it was all a reminder of just how badly spencer had screwed up. 

spencer finally moved, walking back into the room. peter kept shooting daggers at him, and diana looked like she was ready to murder him right then and there. and then cover it up. she looked like the type of woman who would get away with murdering him, even if she had an audience. he took a deep breath, bending over the table to look over the case files. they were talking about the murder, it was the third of a string of them that had been happening in art galleries around the city. each time, an artist that had their art on display had been killed, their body left on the floor next to a wall where their art once hung. in place of the piece of art they’d created was a message, different each time. 

as they looked over the cases, there was a shift in the room, and spencer immediately knew why. he turned, looking at the woman he once loved. she held a coffee cup in her hand, the spout stained with lipstick. neal caffrey stood behind her, his arm ghosting around her back, hand resting on her waist. his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at spencer before quickly returning to an unbothered expression. 

neal quickly flashed a smile, so charming it made spencer feel sick. 

“neal caffrey, it’s lovely to meet you all,” he said, looking around the room.

“hi, guys,” she said, still attached to neal’s side. 

she didn’t want to tear away from him. it felt safer, being near him. her heart still beat rapidly, but the warmth that neal’s body radiated helped calm her. it quelled her nerves enough that she was able to say her small “hi” without her voice quivering. his hand was still attached to her waist, gripping it tight, but not to the point that he was hurting her. just enough to make it clear that she was his and he was hers, and that no one – especially spencer – should dare make a false move towards her. 

penelope was the first to break, a smile adorning her face as she ran from her computer to envelop her old friend in a hug. neal expertly took the coffee she held out of her hand, so that it wouldn’t drop or spill as she returned the hug. 

“i missed you so much!” they both squealed at the same time, causing them to break out into laughs. they smiled, gripping each others’ arms and jumping around in a circle. it’d been years since she and garcia had seen one another in person, and it was a moment that was long overdue, no matter if it was technically considered unprofessional. 

hotch was next to give her a hug, followed by emily and jj and morgan. spencer was the only one who stood still, as though his shoes were superglued to the ground. his eyes flicked back and forth from neal to the girl he’d hurt so long ago. 

after the slew of hugs she received, she looked towards spencer, only giving him a small smile, before returning to neal’s side. she took her coffee from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, before getting onto the case. spencer thought of the smile she gave him, and like every other thing about her, it haunted him. there was no emotion in the smile towards him. it was a simple gesture, acknowledging his existence but nothing more. 

she brushed him off so quickly, immediately getting to work, that it gave him whiplash. he looked at neal, who was looking at him with a glint in his eyes that was clearly distaste. just a second later, neal was called over by y/n, asking him about one of the art exhibits where blood of a victim had been found. the way neal effortlessly spoke about the era and art annoyed spencer. he was the one who knew everything. what could a criminal out on a consulting deal really know? especially compared to a guy with an iq of 187. 

neal’s arm brushed against hers, making her look at him, smiling. this smile was different – full, bright, happy. it was unlike the one she gave spencer, and that killed him. he had done the damage, and here he was, years later, reaping the consequences of his actions. 

his feet finally moved, unsticking from the position he was previously in. he stood near morgan, listening to hotch provide further details that peter’s team didn’t have. hotch gave a rough profile they’d created on the flight to new york, noting it wasn’t official – but could give a good baseline for what they needed to look into. 

“morgan, spencer, i need you two to go down to the morgue. go over the details of the murders with the coroner, and report back to me. jj, coordinate with law enforcement and the media. no details about this case are to be released as of now. garcia, i need you to stay here and dig up information about the victims we don’t currently have. i want to know about any paths that could have crossed, especially in their careers. emily and rossi, we’ll head down to the most recent crime scene,” hotch said, voice firm. 

each bau member scattered, now that their assignments. spencer lingered ever so slightly, watching y/n nodding along as peter coordinated his team. morgan elbowed him, harder than he used to years ago. it was a subtle shift after everything that happened, but a shift nonetheless. still, he never complained, knowing it could have been worse for him. he’s lucky to still have some form of a relationship intact with his team members. 

· · 3 hours later · ·

in the three hours since assignments had been given, spencer and morgan found out that the killer had left behind extra clues in the form of rolled up pieces of paper left on the victims’ bodies. not only that, the team had identified a solid suspect and another body had been dropped. 

the victim fit all the others, and this time the message left behind was just one word: “betrayal,” painted in blood. and yet again, there was blood left in an exhibit with art from an older era.

they all stood around the table in the conference room – except for penelope, who was working on a loose lead hotch thought up in peter’s office – looking towards a clear whiteboard, detailing each piece of the case they’d put together in an attempt to solve it. 

“the pattern is accelerating,” y/n said, moving towards the board, “look. we have four bodies now. the first was found ten weeks ago. the second four weeks ago. the third just a week ago, and now the fourth. something made him want to go faster, but what?” 

they knew the unsub had likely been triggered by something, leading to the sudden shift in the timeline. they spit balled ideas, reasons for the acceleration. neal provided insight on each of the exhibits where blood was spontaneously left. the first time it happened, the police thought it was an accident. now, with four victims, they knew it was part of his MO. 

“did penelope find any connection between the victims?” neal asked, looking intently at the board.

solving a murder was new for him. he was used to asking mozzie to check who fenced a piece. he was used to finding out who stole and sold a priceless piece of art that part of him wished he had. he was used to pushing down his habit of planning how he would steal a piece of art or a statue that was worth millions. still, the puzzle pieces in his brain were shifting, and he was happy to have the challenge. he noticed a pattern within them, he just needed to be sure. 

“they’re all art majors, though each specialized in a completely different style and era of art. one thing that stood out was that they all went to the same university at one point, all taking the most of the same slew of classes that were required for art majors,” emily summarized, remembering what garcia told her she found. 

“can you tell me what era each victim specialized in?” neal said, moving towards the table to rearrange some extra pictures that hadn’t fit on the board. the crime scenes, with the pictures of each message left behind, and the exhibit where blood had been left behind. he just had a hunch…

“uh, yeah, hold on,” emily said, finding the file that held each victim’s university transcript. once she had it, she spoke again.

“carl jenkins – victim one – focused on the baroque era. violet emerson – victim two – had a background in romanticism. dawn hollis – victim three – was an expert on the renaissance, and vincent dryden – our most recent victim – focused on neoclassism.”

“ok, wait – yes. hold on… yeah, i think i’ve got something. look at the art of each of the victims. it’s completely different from what they studied when they were in school. jenkins’ did abstract, emerson had clear fauvist inspiration, hollis did pop art, and dryden’s art was influenced by the romantic era. and look,” neal explained, almost frantic. 

he pulled out photos of the messages left behind at each crime scene. 

“each note the killer left behind has something to do with betrayal. the most recent, of course, being the literal word itself,” he said. 

“you’re right,” y/n muttered, moving closer to him and inspecting the pattern he layed out between the photos.

“what if it’s about them deviating from the art they studied?” emily pointed out, before continuing, “maybe the killer stayed within the style he studied, but never got as far as the victims did, with exhibits in galleries. now he’s getting revenge for the success he never got. can garcia cross-reference the victims with anyone who crossed paths with all of them? other students, teachers, people who tried to get their art into the same galleries.”

“yeah, hold on,” y/n said, running into peter’s office to get the theory to her. 

within seconds, penelope found a name, a professor that every victim had for a renaissance art history class. there were countless records of applications he’d made to galleries throughout the city, each and every one of them refusing him. there was a notes section on each, explaining the refusal. some left nothing, others claimed his style was simply not what they were looking for. it was too outdated, and they’d rather have pieces from the true renaissance than from an artist of this decade. 

“his name is connor hayes, let me get you his address,” garcia blurted, writing the information she found down as quickly as possible before also sending the gps location to hotch.

the flurry of activity in the office surged the moment his name and address were found. garcia also ended up sending the location of his office at the university he worked at to the team, as a secondary location to check. some agents were on the phone with police and swat, others running to the elevators and even stairs to get down as quickly as possible. sirens and blue and red lights filled the streets as they sped to find the man who had already killed so many budding artists. 

the team found him at his home, with the names and pictures of various other students he was planning on killing. he had an entire board on his wall, connected by red string and pins. the words “TRAITOR” and “BETRAYAL” were splayed over the pictures in red ink. the victims who had been killed had their faces crossed out, while one picture had a circle over the student’s face. likely who he planned would be his next victim. they even found a box hidden in his closet, filled with his trophies from the victims – vials of their blood. 

neal stood outside, watching as forensics went in and out of hayes’ house, the numerous police officers and FBI agents gathering evidence for conviction. he watched as connor hayes was packed into the back of a police car, taken away to live the rest of his life rotting in jail. neal wondered how someone could do something like that. he could barely pick up a gun, hating them as much as he did, and yet here he was, in such close proximity to someone who had killed four people. 

“don’t think too hard about it,” y/n said, startling him out of his thoughts.

“what?” neal asked, now looking at her. he was amazed at himself over the fact that, despite standing in the middle of a crime scene where a serial killer had just been apprehended, he was in awe of how beautiful his girlfriend was. it was like the entire world simply drifted away, and it was just the two of them now. that was the effect she had on him. 

“the why. you can do countless interviews with these monsters, understand the psychology behind it, hell you could even get the reasoning behind it from the killers themselves. still, you’ll never fully understand how they could do something like that,” she told him as she squinted at the scene before them.

“am i truly that transparent that you knew exactly what i was thinking?” neal replied, smiling at her.

“nah, i just read minds,” she said, grinning up at him. 

she lifted herself up to her tip toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. she grabbed his hand, squeezing it once. she told him that she’d check with hotch if the two of them were needed for anything more, letting go and walking inside the house to find out where hotch had gone. she had been standing in the serial killer’s living room when she spotted hotch a few rooms away, being able to see him in the kitchen thanks to the open floor plan the guy had. 

“so, you chose a criminal over me?” a voice said from behind her. 

she turned to the origin of the voice, and lo and behold, spencer reid stood right in front of her. the question he asked only partly registered in her head. 

“what?” she asked, trying to keep calm. she could feel herself beginning to see red just at the fact he had the audacity to speak to her with anything other than apology for what he’d done. 

“neal caffrey, your new boyfriend. he’s a criminal, no? i mean, he’s a criminal consultant, and walks around with a fancy ankle monitor. and if i remember correctly, which of course i do, he was convicted of bond forgery and spent four years in prison. so what in god’s name are you doing with the likes of him?” he sneered at her, clearly trying to insinuate she had downgraded.

the look on his face pissed her off. she’d been done with spencer the moment she left after finding out he’d been cheating on her for months. the way his brows furrowed as if he were holier than thou temporarily made her want to put his head through the wall. she only became more angry when she realized his dig at neal. 

she’d fallen in love with neal within a year of them knowing each other. he may have been a criminal, but he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. through his charming and sly exterior, he’s been an absolute dream. he was kind, and thoughtful. even on the coldest days, if she’d forgotten her coat, he’d give her his. even if he was already freezing, any indication she was cold would mean his coat was being shrugged off and pulled over her shoulders. if she mentioned wanting to see a movie, the next morning there’d be two tickets sitting on their dining table, with a little note from neal telling her to get ready for their date night. sometimes they’d get home from the office at different times, and she couldn’t count how often she would come home to flowers from neal, or he would bring home a bouquet for her. every worry of hers was quelled the second he’d come into the room, and he was so incredibly patient with her when she’d first come to new york. 

she came to him broken and battered from the bau, and he’d sat meticulously gluing back together each and every piece. even the ones that most people would deem too tiny to keep, and would throw away – he kept. he pieced her back together and takes care to keep her that way. he loves her more fully than she’s ever been loved before, and she loved him just as much. spencer standing in front of her, all smug, trying to say that neal is a bad guy just because he went to prison once is honestly infuriating. 

“what exactly are you trying to say, spencer? because if you’re trying to make it seem like neal is a bad guy because he used to dabble in forgery, you’re way out of your league. who’s the one who decided to cheat on me for six months with a girl over the phone? here’s a hint, in case you can’t remember, it wasn’t neal. and let’s be real, he helped out more on this case than you did. he may be a criminal, spencer, but he’s more honest than you’ll ever be,” she seethed. 

“is there a problem here?” neal said, wrapping his arm expertly around her. 

neither she nor spencer were sure when he’d entered the room, but she was glad he was here. she could’ve stood here, alone, and knocked down anything spencer would have said to her for as long as she needed to. and yet, having neal here calmed the frustration in her heart. 

“not anymore,” she responded, leaning into his touch. her eyes narrowed at him, mouth contorting into a frown. 

spencer searched for words, but he couldn’t find any. he’d been told by every member of the bau that the only thing he should say to her is a heartfelt apology. he’d been haunted by his actions, by her for years. and yet, seeing her with neal, seeing how happy she was, it annoyed him. there was a part of him, though he wouldn’t admit it, that wished she’d come back to him as easily as she’d left. the moment he set his eyes on neal, on her wrapped in his arms when they walked into the office, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. he knew there was no chance in hell she’d come back to him. he knew that, in the end, he’d be sitting in his apartment, looking at her facebook for the third time in the day and find pictures of them on their wedding day. he screwed up the second he started speaking to maeve, and yet he was angry at her for moving on. it killed him. 

“did you talk to hotch yet?” neal said, turning his attention to y/n. she shook her head no, and he nodded, pulling her along to go talk to him.

“what a man, you’re not going to defend yourself or your girlfriend?” spencer spat out, his mouth working faster than his brain. the guilty part of his brain wanted to take it back.

“i know she can handle herself. she already did. i’m not sure why you’re looking for a fight, but if you want one that badly, i can promise you’ll be the one on a stretcher,” neal said, giving spencer a cold stare before leaving the room. 

by the time her confrontation with spencer had ended, hotch had moved to another room. they were wrapping things up, and the forensics specialists were the only ones needed to finish everything. hotch told them that they would all get going soon. he only asked neal to look over some evidence they’d found that was art related, which neal was quick to help with. 

back at the office, neal and y/n helped peter fill out some paperwork for the case they’d just work on. he told them to go home, to rest, but they wanted to help. plus, they knew it meant there’d be less work to do tomorrow. the bau had gathered their things, and they were ready to leave. the only thing left was to say their goodbyes. 

“please stay in touch, and promise me we’ll get together soon,” penelope said through choked tears, holding onto her best friend.

“i promise,” y/n said, hugging penelope tight enough that it almost looked like she was afraid this was the last time she’d see her. 

in some way, it was true. she was worried that their jobs and lives would interfere so often that they’d never get to see each other again. and yet, she also knew that they’d see each other again. there was no doubt in her mind that they’d see each other again within a few months, and giggle over coffee about the most recent juicy drama they’d heard. and there were always phone calls and texts, which would keep them connected while they waited to see each other again. 

emily and jj made her promise to keep in touch, too. the four of them, emily, jj, penelope, and y/n/, made a solemn vow to have a getaway trip together sometime soon. a nice, warm getaway to the caribbean sounded wonderful to all of them. especially considering just how cold this winter had been. 

rossi and morgan made her swear to keep in touch. rossi made the promise of making his extra special pasta, just for her, if she ever visited. it was an offer she couldn’t pass up, and she made a note in her head to go just for some pasta. 

“promise me you won’t stop writing, kiddo,” hotch said to her, his hand on her shoulder. 

she nodded, tears causing her throat to close up. she whispered a very quiet, “i promise” before enveloping him in a hug. everything she had now, the life she made for herself, the healthy relationship she was in – she had hotch to thank. it was because of him that she managed to start fresh after what happened with spencer. it was because of him barely hesitating when she said she needed to leave the bau, because she just couldn’t bare to work there anymore, that she’d landed at the white collar unit with peter. it was because of him that she crossed paths with neal, and was now in the happiest place she could be. all of what had happened, she had hotch to thank for. the man who became the closest person she had to a father when she was living in quantico, was the man she had to thank for everything working out the way it should have.

her slew of tears were inevitable. she’d been trying too hard to keep it contained, to only shed a few, and yet she still broke. they were more than just her friends. they were her family. it had been difficult to leave them years ago, and it was difficult to watch them go now. she knew that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d see each other – there would be other cases to help out on or they’d all get together when they had vacation. even then, it was hard watching someone leave. the human brain is incapable of deciphering the different kinds of grief. it’s all one and the same to the brain, so even though she knew they’d be back, her brain already begun to grieve them, and the tears were pouring. 

spencer stood off to the side, waiting for them to all finish. he wondered what things would be like, if he wasn’t an idiot. or if he wasn’t a complete asshole to her earlier. he wished that she’d forgive him, but he knew he didn’t deserve that. not after what he’d said to her. not after what he’d done all those years ago. he’d been reaping the consequences, not only with her leaving but with maeve dying not long after y/n left. he had everything, and then he blinked, and it was all gone. 

so instead, he turns around and leaves, knowing that he is undeserving of anything from her. 

· · ✮ · ·

neal was sitting on the couch of the space june rented out for him, a space that slowly became home for him and y/n. his legs were outstretched onto the coffee table, a book in his hand. from his periphery, on the right side, he could see her walk out of the bathroom. she was clad in her favorite pajamas – one of his shirts and pink pajama shorts. the shorts he bought as part of his one year anniversary present for her. her feet padded softly across the floor as she made her way towards him, and he turned his head, grinning up at her when she reached closer. she stood next to him, placing her hands on the arm of the couch and leaning towards neal, smiling back.

“ready for bed?” he asked, and he earned a nod in response.

his eyes practically sparkled as he looked at her. to him, in this very moment, as she stood wearing his shirt and frilly pink pajama shorts, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. and in every moment after this one, she would still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. that was something he knew would never change. 

she tip-toed around the couch and coffee table, slipping between the two and plopping down on the couch. she lifted her feet up, resting them on the left side of the couch as she lied her head on neal’s lap. her hands settled near his knees. his hand instinctively went to her head, brushing her hair back. in slow, sweet movements his fingers played with her hair.

it was such a little thing, yet something about neal made her feel so safe. comfortable. happy. the way he looked at her as though she’d hung the stars and moon in the sky just for him. the way his eyes dilated, so full of emotion each time he looked at her. the way he effortlessly made her feel the good kind of butterflies in her stomach. the way he smiled at her as if she’d just brought the sun in after a dark night. neal made her whole. 

he slightly closed the book he’d been reading as his fingers twirled in her hair. it was still open, but just barely, his thumb holding open the page he’d left off on. the pages had flopped in, some curling beneath each other. the cover faced the floor while the back of the book was up towards the ceiling

“whatcha readin’?” she mumbled, worn out from the day. 

“i’m doing a re-read of the count of monte cristo. i’ve reached the part where dantès is in jail and abbé started teaching him everything,” he responded.

“ooohhh i love that one. read to me?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him slightly. she smiled, batting her eyelashes as if he was difficult to convince. neal laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to her head. 

“always, my love,” he whispered, opening the book up more and wrapping his left arm around her so he could hold the book up with both hands. she had to stop herself from frowning at the loss of his fingers in her hair, quickly perking up as he started to read. 

she smiled, staring at the book. she tried to follow along with what he read, but her eyes started to feel heavier and heavier. she closed them, opting to simply listen instead. her heart was full as he read to her. after about a chapter, her thoughts wandered slightly. she thought about how lucky she was to have neal. she thought about how she wanted to spend every night this way, ready to go to bed and yet staying awake simply to spend more time together. she thought about how much she loved neal. she thought of the first time she met him, and when they started dating.

it wasn’t easy for neal to convince her to go on a date with him. the first day she walked through the doors of the white collar office, she’d been earlier than expected. peter hadn’t briefed neal on the situation yet to tell him to dial down the charm. he’d strolled right up to her, offering his hand and his signature smile. despite the look on her face, clearly exhausted and not very welcoming of bullshit, he tried to be witty. she ended up laughing at his opening line, which to him was a win, especially after peter finally told him. he was happy that he could make her laugh in the middle of what was arguably the lowest point of her late 20s. from the very start, he insisted that he’d take her out one day, flashing his charming smile and flirting with her.

he waited a year. he built her trust, and she built on his. he shared secrets with her that he hadn’t told anyone else – not even mozzie. he’d gotten closer to her, becoming the first person she’d go to in the mornings when she arrived at the office. at the start, she’d only gone to peter or her desk – her only two comforts in a new place. eventually, that changed to saying hello to neal first and bugging him about a case file or papers splattered all over his desk. 

it took a while before she agreed to a date. even when she wanted to say yes, she waited until she knew she was ready. she didn’t want to risk messing it up. neal asked her out four times. the first time was not long after they met. she told him she couldn’t, not yet, and he told her he’d wait. he knew she’d need time, and so he let it pass until he thought she might be ready. he tried two more times after that, both at points he thought were right. she nearly said yes both of those times, but still shook her head no. both times he took it well, understanding and proceeding to buy her coffee. it was his way of letting her know outside of words that he would continue waiting until she was ready. 

the day she did say yes, he’d been ecstatic. truthfully, he nearly didn’t ask that day. he was expecting another no, and would’ve taken it graciously. yet, when she walked in the door that day, something in the air shifted and pushed him to ask. she still remembers the way his eyebrows shot up when she finally said “yes” to him. he would’ve waited years for her if he had to. he still would, now. 

if someone had told her a few years ago, on the road to new york city, that this is where she would end up, she would’ve laughed in their face. that kind of reality was completely out of question for her. three years ago, she felt her world come crashing down, and she thought there was no chance of digging herself out of the rubble. little did she know, that three years later, the little “yes” that led to one, two, three more dates would bring her here. 

as she listened to neal read, having missed a lot of what he’d already said at this point, she opened her eyes. he’d already passed another two chapters, and was about to start the third.

“hey, neal?” she interrupted before he got the chance to start reading that chapter.

he rested the book on his legs, his right hand holding it as his left moved to caress her shoulder. 

“yes, love?” he asked, looking down at her. 

“i love you,” she said, and she meant it with everything she had. 

“i love you. always,” he told her, his voice quieting to a near whisper at the end. 

three, simple little words. so little had been said aloud, and yet so much had been said between the two of them. the room quieted, the two of them lying there, on the couch, intertwined. the book since discarded to the floor beside the couch. they would eventually move to the bed, shutting off the lights and sliding beneath the bedsheets. they wouldn’t turn away from each other, instead once again seeking one another out. hands grabbing to pull them closer. by the morning, the sheets would be halfway off the bed, but they would still be holding one another. they’d go to the office and finish a case by 3 in the afternoon. they’d go to dinner, neal would pull out the ring box he’d been hiding in various places for the last 10 months. yes, eventually that would all happen.

but for now, they would lie here, on the couch, and thank the lucky stars above for helping them find one another.

[reiding-writing]

macarons and misunderstandings [ s.r ]

Summary:

You coax Spencer into joining you in a bakery café that your friend recommended you to visit whilst on a case in NYC, and although it starts as two friends getting lunch together, it doesn’t end that way.

WARNINGS: minor swearing, wholesome miscommunication

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff, just the most sickeningly sweet wholesome fluff

wc: 3.4k

masterlist!!

a/n: rest assured, i will be returning to my comfort zone of hurt/comfort for my next fic bc i cannot write wholesome stuff for the life of me 😭

“Alright, take a break everyone, we’ll pick this back up after everyone’s had the chance to eat,” Hotch’s voice rings across the NYPD conference room alongside the closing of the file he was reading from, and he tucks the manilla folder under his arm as he stands. “I want you all back here by 1:30,”

There’s a small chain of nods and ‘yes sir’s before the team is rising from the table and grabbing their belongings to vacate the police station to go and get some lunch, and you manage to catch Spencer right before he leaves. “Hey Spence-”

“Hm? Yeah?” He does a full U-turn with his body, almost walking straight into you in the process if not for his hand still holding the door open to give him a point of balance, and you have to stifle a small smile that tries to break its way onto your face.

“You got any plans for lunch or can I effectively kidnap you for an hour?”

Spencer gives you slightly furrowed expression although doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “I’m not sure that was the best way to word that but no I haven’t,”

“Yeah probably not-“ You let out a small breath that could almost constitute as a laugh. "Anyway, apparently there’s a really good french bakery like two blocks away from here, we should go check it out before Hotch changes his mind and decides we’re confined to the station,”

“Right… yeah uh-.” Spencer laughed softly, encouraging you out of the door ahead of him before following behind you. “A bakery sounds really nice actually,”

"My friend told me about it when she was down here for fashion week, she said it has some of the best pastries she’s ever tried," You emphasise the word ‘best’ with your hands, and Spencer’s eyes followed them as he got caught up in your enthusiasm.

One of your favourite things about your oddly-developed friendship with Spencer was that you could do things like take a trip to a bakery together without a single hint of awkwardness.

Long since had the silences between you held any unfamiliar tension or apprehension when it came to getting to know each other those five years ago.

It was comfortable. Secure. And you weren’t entirely sure it was just a ‘friendship’.

“Did she happen to mention what type of pastries they have?” Spencer asked you, his eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity.

"She specifically mentioned the almond croissants, although i’m also eager to try their lemon crêpes because they sound absolutely amazing," You continue to exaggerate what you’re saying with your hands as you push open the door of the Police Station, exiting into the cool autumnal breeze of the New York City streets.

Spencer followed closely behind you, nodding along to what you were saying as he placed his hands the pockets of his tattered trench coat. Although, he wasn’t entirely listening to the words leaving your mouth, too focused on how the autumn breeze blew your hair softly and how the partially concealed rays of sun made your eyes look like they they held all of the stars in the milky way.

"Ooh, and macarons-" You turn towards Spencer as your excitement about what pastries to get overtakes any lingering thoughts of the case you’re working on, gripping onto his sleeve with your left hand.

You were excited about the pastries; He was excited about the warmth of your hand through his sleeve.

“Macarons do sound good. You know what would go really well with them?” Spencer looked at you as he spoke, smiling like you’d ripped the sun from the sky and given it to him as a present. “Hot chocolate.”

"Oh you are so right-" You give an immediate sharp nod at Spencer’s suggestion, sliding down his arm to rest on the inside of his elbow, fingers pressed gently into the slight curve created from where his hands rested inside his pockets.

To the unassuming eye, the two of you most probably looked like a couple out on a date, your arms linked and Spencer looking at you like you were the only person in existence.

Spencer was very aware that the way you touched him made it look like you were in a relationship.

And it made him feel a little giddy.

He had to force himself back to reality. He wasn’t in a relationship with you. All he was doing was going out with you as a friend to grab some pastries for lunch. That’s it.

"Okay so we have definite yeses to macarons and hot chocolate, I feel like we’ve gotta get at least one almond croissant considering how much my friend was raving about them, anything else?"

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a crêpe before. Maybe we should try one of those?”

Spencer had a sudden urge to kiss you, and he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was gentle heat of your fingers against his arm. Maybe it was the light pink flush on your cheeks from the cold breeze. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been subconsciously pining after you for years to the point where he could barely think of anything else.

"Yes. Definitely. 100%." You give the inside of his elbow a small squeeze at the prospect of introducing him to the delicacy that is french crêpes. "I cannot let you live a life without crêpes in it."

Spencer nodded along arbitrarily, not listening to a single word that you just said as he internally imagined how it would feel to have your hands in his hair and your lips on his skin.

Why wasn’t he in a relationship with you? You were just… perfect, and he was really into you.

He felt like there had to be a reason why you weren’t together, but that train of thought made Spencer fluster to the point he was afraid you’d be able to see it if he thought about it any longer.

"Aha," You make an exclamation of victory as the bakery comes into view, pushing the door open with a soft bell chime and tugging Spencer inside with you with a gentle but excited insistence.

The bakery looked amazing, although much closer to a café. It had a small quaint European feel to it despite it being on a main Street in New York City, and surprisingly, it wasn’t that busy either. It was the exact type of bakery that Spencer had hoped it would be.

You scour the chalkboard menu for a second to make sure they actually had everything you wanted before going up to order, and Spencer noticed as your hand slid downwards to the inside of his wrist so that you could lean forward to see the chalk whilst still keeping yourself anchored to him.

He was definitely blushing now, his heart taunting him as it pounded against his chest.

Spencer wanted to ask you to kiss him, or at least hold his hand, but the thought of bringing attention to the unspoken connection the two of you had may ruin it stopped him from saying anything, not wanting to risk losing what he currently had in the very minor instance of gaining something more.

"You’re alright with sharing a croissant and a crêpe right? I figure it might be too much otherwise-"

Spencer nodded with a smile. “I don’t mind sharing a croissant and a crêpe with you.”

You give him a beamed smile and a nod as you leave his side to go and order, shutting down his offer to pay before he could even suggest it.

He subconsciously ran his fingers over his wrist as he waited for you, trying to compensate from the loss of your touch and the gentle warmth that accompanied it as he watched you engage in polite small talk with the cashier.

You looked so sweet. So perfect.

"let’s sit outside yeah? it’s a nice day," You retreat back towards him with a tray balanced in your hands, two mugs of hot chocolate joined with four coloured macarons and a single croissant and crêpe, carefully distributed to balance the weight as you carry it.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Spencer nods at you softly, a wistful expression still on his face as he takes you by the elbow in order to help you carry the tray safely.

The reinstating of your previous contact brought a small flush back over his cheeks, and even through his hands were only brushing against the fabric of your shirt, it still felt oddly intimate.

The two of you walk over to a vacant table, set under a large parasol that casted the table in a comfortable shade.

Spencer took a seat across from you as you both sat down, separated by a small table in between the two of you.

Funny how a little table could do that.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Oh my god we are definitely coming back here next time we have a case down here-" You give a satisfied sigh as you wipe your fingers on a serviette, placing it inside your empty mug and pulling out your phone to check the time.

1:17.

You should get back to the station.

The thought of having to go back dampened your mood a little, and not just because it meant you now had to spend the rest of the day bent over a desk to curate a profile.

You really enjoyed spending time with Spencer like this, whether it be accompanying him to a new museum exhibit or driving him to buy his groceries so he wouldn’t have to sit behind the wheel.

It was a small highlight of your time not spent working, and you always found yourself disheartened when it was time to leave.

“We should definitely come back.” Spencer looked at you as he spoke, catching the mild change in your expression. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah- yeah i’m good,” You give him a nod and a reassuring smile as you stand from you seat with him following not long after you. “Just not exactly looking forward to going back to work,”

“Yeah I understand what you mean,” Spencer gives a small laugh, stuffing his hands back into his pockets again.

"We should do this more often you know,” You tilt your head slightly at him, the words leaving your mouth without any thought behind them. "I uh- enjoy spending time with you like this,"

“I enjoy spending time with you too,” Spencer smiled gently.

He looked at you, feeling a slight bit of courage at your confession of enjoying spending time with him one on one.

Come on Spencer, just ask them out already.

"I’m glad," You give Spencer a half-laugh, turning away from him slightly to hide the flushed nature of your cheeks from your embarrassment.

Spencer’s eyes studied you, and he felt like now might be the time. You two were still technically off work, you loved spending time together, and you’d just spent the last half an hour listening to him rant about the new book he was reading whilst the two of you drank hot chocolate and shared french pastries with each other.

You weren’t just friends. You were more than that.

At least he hoped so.

“Can I take you out… on a date?” Spencer’s voice was soft, but it carried confidence.

"A- date?" You stop walking in the middle of the street, your body re-directing any cognitive functioning to focus on computing Spencer’s question.

Spencer stopped as you did, eyes entirely trained on your expression. He couldn’t help but look at how beautiful you were right now. Your face painted with a blush and a mild look of confusion characterised through the slight furrow in your eyebrows.

“Y- yeah… do you want to go on a date with me?”

Of course it was okay if you didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt Spencer. He’d handle the rejection. Right?

"I- Yeah-" You nod quickly, a little too enthusiastically if you were to think about it logically. “Yes,”

"I’d love to go on a date with you-" You’re words are rushed and slightly muddled together as you hastily agree to his proposition, but they get the point across.

Spencer’s face lit up with a blush as you said yes.

That’s wonderful news.

A small grin spread across his face. “I’m glad…” The words slipped out without Spencer realising it, joined by a notable fluster.

He was glad.

He was absolutely thrilled about the fact you want to go on a date with him.

Spencer was so incredibly grateful that you said yes.

“Wouldn’t- I mean- We just like went out together and got food and talked and stuff- was that… a date?-“ You gesture your hand back to the bakery café the two of you had just left.

You weren’t exactly wrong, and he understood your confusion.

“I suppose it follows the motions of a date,” Spencer looked at you, overtaken by how perfectly ethereal you looked with the breeze fluttering against your shirt and a blush covering your cheeks.

“But an actual date would be much more romantic.” His words were confident, even if he was embarrassed that he was admitting to you just how much of a romantic he was underneath his façade of being uninterested in finding someone.

"So it wasn’t a date?” You raise an eyebrow slightly, fiddling with your sleeves. “Because I want to kiss you but if it wasn’t a date then I can’t because you can’t kiss someone without going on a date with them first because it breaks date etiquette-”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he listened to you ramble without taking a single breath. You wanted to kiss him?

You wanted to kiss him.

You wanted to kiss him.

Spencer was trying to keep his emotions in check as he stared at you. Your words made him tingle with excitement. “Um… you can- still kiss me if you want…?”

You shake your head with determination. “You can’t kiss someone before you’ve been on a date with them,”

Spencer looked so utterly confused.

So, you didn’t want to kiss him?

He wanted to kiss you.

“Why not? Your logic makes no sense. Why can’t kiss me?” Spencer was so utterly confused, his eyebrows knitted in a way that made you want to plant your lips between them as he tried to understand what your issue was.

"My logic makes complete sense-" You cross your arms over your chest as you gesture for the two of you to keep walking with a nod of your head.

"Everybody knows that you never kiss somebody until the end of the first date, it curses your whole future relationship otherwise,"

Spencer couldn’t help but stare at you blankly.

What he heard you say was wrong. Really wrong.

You should kiss someone whenever you want to kiss someone. Especially if they’re your crush.

But you were adamant you couldn’t kiss Spencer because of this stupid arbitrary rule.

"Well, if you’d have agreed to my judgement that our bakery stop was a date then you’d be getting a kiss," You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, lips pressed into a straight line. "But you don’t, therefore I can’t kiss you,"

Spencer stared at you in disbelief as you spoke, before his eyes widened.

He knew what you wanted to hear, and so he gave in.

It was the only way he’d get a kiss.

“Okay okay- It was a date at the bakery I was wrong-”

He hated how desperate he sounded, but you were so beautiful, you were stunning, you were the most gorgeous person he ever met.

Spencer wanted to be with you. And you were giving him an in to finally press his lips against your perfect face.

"Are you sure?" You furrow your eyebrows at him in mock accusation, agains stopping in your tracks to stand in front of him with your eyes fixed on his face.

Spencer sighed. “I… yes. It was a date. I was just being silly…” Spencer took your hand for a moment as he spoke to you, interlacing his fingers in yours and feeling the warmth of your hands against his frigidly cold ones.

He wanted you to know that he felt a lot differently towards you compared to how he’d felt about anyone else.

You were special.

And he wanted you.

"Right you are pretty boy," You give his hand a small squeeze as you use your other to cup his face, pulling it towards you with a gentle insistence so that you could press a chaste kiss to those perfect pink lips that had just been begging you to silence them. "You were being silly,"

Spencer’s face lit up with another blush as you called him pretty boy.

Of course you thought Spencer was pretty. Not handsome or beautiful.

Pretty.

He let himself be pulled in closer as you spoke to him teasingly, telling him that he was being silly.

And then… your lips. Pressed against his with a soft pressure that he gladly returned.

That was all it took for Spencer to feel like the luckiest man on earth.

"Here’s to a successful first date," You chuckle softly as your lips part, your noses brushing as you lean back to admire the rosy tint to his cheeks and the beaming smile that accompanied it.

Spencer felt so happy. So overwhelmingly, sickeningly happy.

And so, he did a thing that he never thought he had the courage to do. He pulled you into his arms, leaning in to kiss you with so much fervour that you were relying on the strength of his hands on your waist for stability.

Spencer didn’t know when he’d get the opportunity to do this again. So he was 100% going to make the most of it.

You can’t help the smile that erupts on your face as he pulls you in again, your hands cradling his cheeks and your head tilted ever so slightly to the left as you rested your weight into his hands.

If you’d recorded this moment and told him it was a scene from a cheesy romance movie he would’ve believed you.

As the two of you reluctantly pull away due to the unfortunate human necessity of breathing, you catch a glance at the watch face on the inside of your wrist.

1:29.

“Shit- We really need to get back to the station.” Your hands fall from his face to grab one of his own, pulling him down the streets as you hurry back to the police station, mildly out of breath and still completely flustered.

“So-“ Spencer pulled a small resistance against your hands as the two of you stopped outside of the door.

“We’re going on a second date once we get home right?”

[circussbeetle]

Heid longfic chap 6

drink up (you’re wasted on me)

Chapter 6/9

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

Rating: Mature

Summary:

He looks up to see Rossi walking toward the table and brushing snow off his sleeve, and behind him-

“Hotch, Rossi, you made it!” Emily exclaims gleefully, she and JJ scooting closer to Spencer to make room for the men in the open space beside Derek.

“Sorry it took us so damn long, it’s colder out there than my ex wife when I forgot her birthday,” Rossi gruffs as he removes his trench coat and neatly folds it over the back of the booth. He gestures Hotch in first with a firm look that leaves no room for argument, and Spencer wonders if he had to really fight to get Hotch here.

So he wouldn’t have come on his own, then, Spencer’s mind helpfully supplies. He feels like he hasn’t breathed since he and Penelope walked into this godforsaken place.

Read the full chapter here

[isagrimorie]

So… this is something I just wrote down last night— it’s not perfect nor beta’d and I don’t know how in character the voices are. But I’ve wanted an Elle Greenaway meet the BAU team again and this happened.

Happens sometime during the Criminal Minds Evolution era:

Title: Ships Passing | Ao3 Fandom: Criminal Minds Characters: Elle Greenaway, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss Summary: Elle bumps into the BAU team. (Criminal Minds Evolution timeline)

Elle didn’t love coming down to Atlantic City, or any big city where there was a chance she could run into the BAU. Her luck’s held up for a decade. After all, it’s a big world.

But Elle should have known that nothing would last forever.

Elle stayed out of law enforcement, bounced around several NGOs, and finally ended up as a private investigator for a small law firm. Most of the cases she worked on were shoe leather for corporate lawyers. The cases were mostly fraud, and the only big sexy case Elle handled had to do with corporate espionage.

It’s not exactly how Elle saw her life going but knows her triggers now and she wasn’t going to give Gideon or Hotch the satisfaction of turning into some kind of vigilante.

Long story even shorter, her job forced her down to Atlantic City and now she’s one of a dozen witnesses to a shooting. It’s something that’s been happening over the week, and if Elle knew she’d have assigned one of the junior investigators to go instead of her.

As it was, Elle had to watch as a group of cops and FBI swarmed through the lobby and instinctively Elle knew the very center of the group would be the BAU. Elle expected Hotch and the team to burst through the doors at any second -- and they did.

Except… the person leading the group wasn’t a dour man in a suit and a rumpled, grumpy Academic but a silver-haired woman in a red trench coat. She took point and assigned their duties, Elle took a step back and suddenly doubted this was the BAU team. There was no one in this team Elle recognized.

Elle chuckled wryly to herself. What was she expecting? It was more than ten years since she left, of course, nothing would stay the same. Maybe Gideon finally retired, and Hotch moved up from the BAU, Elle swore Hotch would die wearing that G-Man suit until the day he died.

She felt a pang. It was both relief and sadness. Maybe even after all this time, despite how she left she did still want to see the old team, especially Spencer and Morgan. They were her friends after all.

“Thank you all for your cooperation,” a familiar voice began. Elle turned and a jolt of surprise struck her.

No, there was still someone Elle recognized, and the team was the BAU but the woman addressing the crowd wasn’t the same woman Elle knew back in her time.

The woman speaking was Jennifer Jareau --JJ-- but this JJ was a far cry from the Media Liaison Elle knew. Gone was the Business Casual uniform she always wore and the deferential girl next door media-trained persona. In her place stood a confident, sharp field agent. JJ had exchanged her slacks for leather jackets, jeans, and field-ready boots.

“Hi.”

Elle turned, surprised that someone was able to get to her side without her noticing. She prided herself on being aware of her surroundings at all times. She never wanted someone to get the drop on her again.

And yet, somehow, someone did slip her guard. It was especially jarring when that someone wore a stylish red trench coat.

The silver-haired woman smiled at her. Elle noted that despite the silver hair she didn’t look as old as she thought. “I’m Special Agent Emily Prentiss.”

“Elle,” Elle replied, holding back on her last name.

“Did you see what happened here?”

“Not really, I only knew what was happening after the Uns-shooter escaped,” Elle answered, and cringed inwardly because she knew Prentiss caught the flub.

Prentiss’s eyebrows went up, “The UnSub?” She looked both curious and like she was trying to figure something out. “Your name is Elle.” Elle nodded, hopeful and resigned at the same time that Prentiss wasn’t going where Elle thought she was going. “You’re Elle Greenaway.”

Elle nodded, reluctantly, “Yes.”

Prentiss’s expression softened. “Derek and Spencer talked about you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.” What have they said about her? Good things? Bad things? How did she wash out of the BAU because she couldn’t take the heat?

Elle braced herself for either a pitying or judgmental look.

Instead, Prentiss looked almost sympathetic. “They missed you. They never forgot you.”

“Oh.” Elle felt unexpectedly emotional. “I also missed them.”

Prentiss then turned and called out, “JJ!”

“Wait--“ Elle tried to stop her but JJ already walked toward them and Elle knew the moment this new, hardened JJ recognized her.

“Elle?” She sped up her walk, “Oh my god.”

“Nice to see you too, JJ,” Elle said, resigned to this impromptu reunion.

“You’re a field agent now, huh?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years now.”

“Boss!” A voice called out and Prentiss’s head swiveled around, a man in an FBI jacket jogged from another part of the lobby.

“JJ will get your statement,” Prentiss informed them and then nodded before meeting the man halfway. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too.” She returned automatically and then turned her attention to JJ, who still looked stunned. “Is she the Unit Chief?”

“Yes,” JJ answered, following Elle’s gaze to Prentiss. “Hotch picked Emily to lead the BAU when he left the Bureau a few years ago.”

“What?” The news rocked Elle. “I never thought Hotch would leave the Bureau.”

There was a look in JJ’s eyes haunted and wistful at the same time, “We didn’t think so either.” Her face softened. “A lot’s happened. Maybe, if you’re still around later you can join us for drinks? Catch up?”

“Maybe.” Elle left this life a long time ago, and she didn’t regret it. “I don’t know how much I can help. I’m not from around here.”

JJ looked at Elle, her eyes piercing and sharp and Elle was reminded even more now that JJ was a Profiler. She nodded. “Can you walk me through what you saw?”

Elle took the change of topic for the reprieve it was. She recounted the details of her arrival at the hotel, what her purpose was, a meeting with a client, and what time it was she heard the gunshot. “But that’s all I can give.”

“How long will you be in Atlantic City?” JJ asked.

“Just another day. I’ll be flying off tomorrow.” Elle produced her calling card, “But you can contact me if you need any more details from me.”

The corners of JJ’s lips quirked up. “That’s supposed to be my line.” JJ accepted the card. “It’s good to see you again, Elle. And the invitation for drinks is open.” And it was JJ’s turn to give her card, “Just in case.”

Elle took the card without reading the card, “It was… good to see you too, JJ. Tell Gideon and the boys ‘hey’ from me.”

There was a pause, and JJ’s face softened. “Elle, Gideon died.”

“Oh.”

Of course.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sorry you had to know this way.”

Elle didn’t know what to say. Gideon loomed so large in her time with the BAU that she couldn’t imagine the BAU without Jason Gideon. Elle half expected the BAU to shutter when Gideon died but she was wrong. The world continued to turn, and the BAU continued to do its job.

“Thanks for telling me,” Elle said and then did look at the details of the card. It read SSA Jennifer Jareau, BAU. “I’ll call you about the drinks. But I have an appointment somewhere else…”

JJ smiled, but Elle knew JJ knew Elle won’t take her up on JJ’s invitation.

“It was great seeing you again, Elle.”

“You too.”

And then Elle walked out of the hotel. Elle moved on from her life, the events in the BAU had a big impact on her life but she processed that moment and it took her a long time to get over.

It was bizarre seeing them again, seeing JJ, and seeing new faces.

Maybe she needed that unexpected reunion, she needed to see the BAU was not frozen in amber and time has done what time does.

Moves on and changes.

—fin—

[fortycumber]

so I decided to revisit the first season of criminal minds on a whim and I cannot help but notice that hotch is literally channeling his inner mulder with this fit.

I don't know much about the dress code at the fbi, but I'm guessing the red dotted tie, blue or white t-shirt, black suit and a nice looking trench coat are always a BIG must.

[mr-azure231]

So I’ve been obsessed with the Fantastic Four for a while, but with TLOU coming up in 8 days, I know I need to slowly phase out of my F4 fixation (temporarily, of course) and go back to TLOU. It all went according to plan, but out of nowhere I started rewatching Criminal Minds. And now I’m obsessed with the BAU, with Morgan and Garcia’s “baby girl” and “hot stuff”, with Reid and his facts, Hotch and his trench coats (that magically vanished after season 1). I just love them. But how am I going to be ready for TLOU, that’s coming out in 8! Days!! I should be rewatching season one and torturing myself with the question of when that devastating scene is going to occur and make me a total mess. Alas, hyperfixation waits for no men.

[hotch-girl]

AARON HOTCHNER + TRENCH COAT in 1x01 "EXTREME AGGRESSOR."

[hqtchner]

Aaron Hotchner Wearing His Iconic Trench Coat Fit (1x01)

THIS FIT IS A YES FROM ME

My gifs! Please give me credit if you use it.


[wyniepooh]

Wound

aaron hotchner cleans and heals your wound. little do you know, you heal something in him too.

hurt bau!reader, hotch takes care of reader like the gentlemen he is. slight mentions of violence/injuries. extreme-repressed-feelings hotch bc it’s hotch, small tension. flirty!reader. idiots in love vibes.

your right cheek stung like hell.

the son of a bitch actually punched you.

the unsub had already spent his entire life targeting women who were smaller than him, weaker, and he expected the same from you. well, to hell with that. that would be the only punch he’ll be able to throw for a while.

still, you couldn’t deny that he had a solid swing. even if you had evened it out afterwards, the bleeding cut and bruise you could feel coming on was evidence of that.

“stay still.”

you blow out an exasperated sigh at hotch’s words.

“easy for you to say-” you exclaimed as he hit a particularly tender spot. “hotch, are you doing this on purpose? as some sort of punishment for not following your orders to a tee?”

“i said, stay still.”

you sighed, your feet swinging lightly from where you sat in the back of the ambulance, on the edge of where the doors were opened. red and blue lights illuminated the dark woods and the faces of various csi agents, coroners, the police, and aaron.

he was standing in front of you, cotton ball in hand, a bottle of disinfectant in the other. you had insisted all the paramedics tend to the survivors and some officers who were injured, considering your wounds were nothing compared to theirs. what you certainly didn't expect was for aaron hotchner to come and take over.

“you shouldn’t have done that, you know,” aaron voiced as he continued dabbing your cheek.

you scoffed, “so you admit you’re punishing me?” he continued his actions without a response. you huffed with anger, “what did i do wrong? yes, i went into the house early without any backup but it was to save three women who were all about to be blown up. hotch, i was doing my job.”

he responded without hesitation, “it was dangerous, that’s what it was. that's all it was.”

you swatted his hand away with your arm. the evening breeze was cold, raw. as you looked to the side, tears welled up in your eyes.

“you know damn well you would’ve done the same thing if you had arrived before me. i know. we all know.”

you felt anxious as you heard aaron put the bottle down. you certainly were not in the mood for a lecture or scolding, especially not coming from him. heck, you were tearing up already. you didn't want to live the result of what would happen if he were to express his disappointment or anger towards you right this moment.

it was silent for a couple beats. he looked down towards his hands, and to your surprise, gently laughed. his free hand came to tenderly guide your face towards him again, where he gave your jaw a comforting squeeze.

“i know.”

you could say and do nothing but just stare at him. the riveting events from minutes before had made your mind all fuzzy. that, and the fact that you were pretty sure you had a confusion. you hadn’t even noticed the tear that fell down your cheek until a large finger wiped it away. as you looked curiously at his face, you noticed the wind was blowing in his hair and his eyes were twinkling under the moonlight. you both stayed quiet as he continued to tend to your cut and bandage it up.

when he was finished and had began putting the tools away, your hand came up to touch his work. the swelling and pain had already significantly lessened. you stared at him and grabbed his arm to stop his movements, a teasing smile on your face.

“thanks, doc.”

a strong gust of the evening wind gushes towards you, making you shiver involuntarily. hotch notices, and opens his mouth to say something. but he stops himself and says nothing. he simply takes his trench coat off his back and in one swift motion, drapes it over your shoulders.

it smells like him. that’s all you can think about. it smells like aaron hotchner and god, it feels like him too.

you shoot him a warm smile. he returns it.

“have a good night, agent,” he says as he begins to walk towards a group of policemen. he stops, then turns back to you, "and good work." you shyly nod in response, mumbling a hasty 'you too' and 'thank you.'

as he starts to walk away again, you swear you see his hands clench.

-

a/n: it’s giving pride and prejudice (2005) 😇 #canyoutelliloveunspokentension

[ssamorganhotchner]

do you ever reflect on the difference between sweet, baby-faced, trench coat wearing S1 Hotchy poo VS stern, stoic, worn out, dad bod S11 hotch and just😮😔😩🤤

oml do I ever 😩🦋🦋🦋 he went from so cute and baby-faced to so… Daddy 😩 it’s like when he got traumatized he became a thousand times hotter?? wtf is wrong with me fr? like don’t get me wrong, season 1 baby hotchie can get it any day (and any way he wants), but season 11??? HOW DO YOU GO FROM BABY TO DADDY SO FAST???

oh and do not even get me started on his dad bod because I can’t even form words. like??? he makes me lose all train of thought?? & when I see that tight shirt wrapped around his midsection and his jacket off?? 😵‍💫🥴 SIR. can you not 😭 I have no doubt in my mind that TG knew what he was doing in the later seasons by not wearing his jacket as often, and I thank him for it 🤤

[ssaddyhotchner]

-Trench Coat Nick-

This story is based off of this scene in New Girl coz it’s just😍😍😍😍😍😍 The story is different to the scene and solely based off the kiss scene.

Warnings: smut, angst, misogynistic asshole, kissing, lil slow burn action, scene based off new girl, slight jealous Hotch, cutie Jack, cutie dad!Aaron

⬇️⬇️⬇️

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM8K3LL2b/

Gif by @hqtchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had lived in your building for about 10 months now and you had not gotten to know anyone quite like you have gotten to know Aaron Hotchner.

He lived in the apartment across from you and it had taken you a while to “un freeze” him is the term you like to use. You later learned he wasn’t quick to trust people because of his history and the fact that he was an agent for the FBI. Unit Chief of the BAU to be exact.

There was no doubt that Aaron was undeniably attractive. Tall dark and handsome with a side of badass to match. He was the definition of “tall glass of water”. However the two of you had grown close over the last few months so despite you’re feelings you didn’t want to lose him. Having him around was better than not having him around right?

You and Aaron were dating people and one night the two of you met after you had a really bad date with a jerk who spent most of his time staring at your chest rather than your eyes. It seemed Aaron had the same experience on his own date. “She asked how much I make a year” he told me. You scoffed why would she be interested in what he makes when he is so hot he makes you drool.

That night the two of you had made an agreement to meet up after a date to talk through your experience. It made you have a sinking feeling though seeing him looking that good for someone else.

**Aarons POV**

Watching Y/N come back from dates was getting harder. Realising I had feelings for her was really hard. Beth and I had been broken up for two weeks when she first moved in. I was taking Jack home from soccer practice when I noticed her moving frames and stuff into the lobby of our apartment. I asked if she needed any help and she enlisted the help of Jack and I to move the last remaining bits to her apartment and that’s where we hit it off.

We became fast friends and I fell for her even faster. She was so pretty like the type of princesses I read about to Jack. Long dark hair and pretty green eyes and sharp cheekbones. She stood at 5’5 so I spent majority of the time looking down at her which just made her seem so angelic when she looked at me and smiled. I had it bad.

*normal pov*

You were standing in your local coffee shop when you literally ran into a man, spilling your coffee all over him. He was understanding and introduced himself as Nick. He seemed pretty nice and you two got to talking. He was attractive and wore a long trench coat. He asked if you would like to go out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet.

*Aarons POV*

I had seen Y/N in the coffee shop near our apartment this morning and I was about to go in but seen her talking to a guy. He was closer to her age even though the age gap between us was only about 7 years but I was still thought the old broken widow and someone as free and pretty as Y/N would never be interested in someone like me.

I later learned his name was Nick and Y/N had said she’d text me if the date wasn’t going too well to get to wine ready. She didn’t text…

*Back to Normal POV*

The date with Nick actually went well. He was kind and interesting but there was something off that you just couldn’t quite place yet but you decided to stop holding back and go out on another date with him.

It was Friday night and Aaron had asked over for Dinner with him and Jack. Jack was adorable and seeing Aaron with him made you feel warm inside. On top of everything he was an excellent father.

You knocked on the door to be greeted by Jack.

“Y/N! Come in! I want to show you my new Lego piece I built with dad” he greeted you jumping up and down.

“Okay Yeah Buddy show me” you said walking into the apartment greeting Aaron who was at the stove and heading towards Jacks room.

“Wow Jack, that’s impressive it must have taken you so long to build that” you exclaimed.

“Yeah it did, do you like my dad?” He said suddenly.

“What do you mean Jack?” You replied shocked

“My Dad likes you…I think. I see him looking at you a lot and he gets all smiley when you are here. He was like that with Beth and he was like that with my Mom” Jack said staring off.

Jacks mom. There was pictures of Hayley in the apartment. Aaron had told you what happened to her and you felt an intense amount of sorrow that someone as beautiful as he was had to go through something so awful. You then remembered the part of Jack saying “he was like that with Beth”. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t interested even if he was he was probably just trying to get over Beth and you were not that type of girl despite how much you liked Aaron.

“Jack I like your Dad, a lot. He’s a good friend to me” you replied.

It was left at that as Aaron had called the two of you to dinner.

“So Y/N how are things going with Nick” he asked taking a sip of wine.

“Oh good so far. He’s really kind and actually interested in what I have to say unlike some of the other guys I have been out with.

“Anything on that horizon for you, Aaron?” You asked being mindful of Jack

“No I’ve just been so busy with work and Jack. I hardly have anytime” he replied.

“Don’t you miss that companionship, like the feeling of having someone there who you can also “colour” with” you implied a smirk.

“No I guess not, well I have you and you’re pretty nice to look at” he flirted.

You almost choked.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Agent Hotchner.” You replied.

You almost thought you saw Aarons eyes darken but you just put it down to the wine.

The three of you finished dinner and pretty soon Jack was off to bed.

“Look I better get going. Nick is taking me out on a day date tomorrow” you said after helping wash up.

“Oh well I hope you have fun, I’ll be here after if you want to call in” he replied almost in a somber tone.

“Thanks Aaron, Goodnight” you smiled.

Nick had taken you out to the local cafe, the first thing you noticed about him was his style. He was trendy, not the typical type you were into but you decided a change up might be good. He was wearing the long trench coat you could’ve sworn it was a woman’s coat but you digress.

“So how has life in the city been treating you” he asked taking a sip of coffee.

Oh I’ve been here for about 10 months now and it feels like I discover new things about the city every day. You replied.

Have you found a new hair dresser yet? He asked smiling?

“Eh. No Why” you said back.

“Oh nothing, just looks like you’re hair could do with a good treatment….no offence just any other girl I’ve dated I’ve made sure they’ve kept on top of all that kind of thing.” He said as if he saw nothing wrong with the words coming out of his mouth.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it yet” you say noticing out of the corner of your eye Aaron entering the coffee shop. You make eye contact.

“Hey Y/N and you must be Nick, Y/N was telling me how it was nice to meet new people in the city.” He smiled.

“Yeah and you are?” He replied with a scoff.

“Im Aaron, Y/Ns neighbour and friend” Aaron replied in a friendly tone.

You watched Nicks expression deepen even further in disgust. What the hell was his problem.

“Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be friends with someone Y/Ns age”

“Why do you think that” Aaron asked and you could tell he was profiling him.

“Dude you could be our father” he laughed looking directly at you.

“Wow, Nick. You are out of line.” You said standing up angrily.

Wow Y/N didn’t peg you for the type of gal with Daddy issues but okay” he scoffed.

“I think you should leave” Aaron said squaring his shoulders.

“Dude, she’s not worth it, I was just gonna screw her and ignore her afterward” he got up and went to leave.

Aaron went to lunge for him.

“Wait Aaron No, please he’s not worth it” you said standing in between them grabbing his shoulders and staring into his eyes. Nick left soon after.

You guys went back to your apartment. You were so humiliated that Aaron had seen Nick treat you like that. Tears started to spring to your eyes as soon as you entered the apartment.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that” you sniffled.

Aaron sighed from behind you.

“Y/N in what world was that your fault that is not how you should be treated” he faced you and grabbed your shoulders.

“I knew something was off when I seen him in that trench coat, oh well another one bites the dust” you laughed making light of the situation

“You know I’m gonna miss Trenchcoat Nick, he was pretty great” Aaron sniggered

“It was a woman’s coat”you giggled and yawned consecutively

“Goodnight Aaron” you say touching his arm

You went to turn away when Aaron grabbed you and gave you the most powerful kiss you’ve ever had. He moved his hands all over your body ending with a few short pecks.

“I was thinking something like that” he said pressing his forehead against yours.

Your heart was beating so fast you couldn’t even think straight. The feeling of Aarons lips on yours was clouding every sense you had.

“Aaron -I” you stuttered.

“Fuck it” you said grabbing Aaron’s face and crashing his lips to yours. The two of you stumbled through your apartment. Aaron picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He approached your bedroom door and kicked it lightly open all while holding you. God this man was a Greek god.

He placed you on the bed. He took a minute to look at you as if asking you for consent.

“Aaron, I’ve wanted this since the first moment you smiled at me” you gazed at him.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered kissing down your body removing your clothes as he did so.

You’re wearing too many clothes Hotchner” you pulled at his top. He grabbed it from behind his head and pulled it off. God could this man get any more hotter. He removed his trousers and boxers in one go revealing his impressive length to you.

“Aaron, I’ve never been with anyone that big before what if —

“It’ll fit baby don’t worry” he smirked.

He ran his hands down your body to the place you wanted him most he placed two fingers in between your folds and ran them up along the length of your slit.

You moaned almost obscenely loud.

“Ssssh Pretty Girl, don’t want to get a noise complaint do we” he laughed.

“Aaron please just…” you gasped when you felt the tip of his cock line up with your entrance. He thrust all the way in and back out before setting a bruising pace. This was definitely the best sex of your life. You were already on the verge of orgasm he thrusted a few more times before everything went white you almost saw stars. You were exhausted.

“Cmon sweet girl, just one more for me” his thrusting was changing letting me know he was on the verge of climax. He brought his fingers to your clit rubbing in circles and you did what he asked came once again he came at the same time both of your cum mixing together. Aaron moved off to the side careful not to crush you and you both lay there panting.

“I’m so glad you got rid of Trench Coat Nick” he laughed.

God, so were you.

[arlodoesstuff]

Don’t hate me, but Hotch in S1 n trench coat?

10/10 shit

[bau-drabbles]

season 1 Hotch is just… 🥵

that's what i've been saying!!!! 😮‍💨🫶 he's so hot 😩 that grey trench coat he used to wear was such a slay, he should've kept it 😩