#David Rossi being a busy body

[inkdrinkerworld]

hotch and reader who've had a fight so he's testy and short fused with the team all day till david/emily call you to tell you to come over to the bau and sort it out so he's not so difficult to work with

in hindsight, it was a stupid to be upset with each other over. you're both adults, so there's no way that between work and chores that you'd both see each other as much as a normal couple.

you and aaron were really just missing each other and couldn't get enough of each other to the point where you both came resentful at the ringing phones and being stolen away for work.

you weren't ready to let the fight be and neither was aaron. you just didn't know how bad he was taking it till your phone was pinging at work.

there's a million texts from his co-workers begging you to make up so he isn't so snappy and mean. even rossi texted.

with a sigh, you say, "i'm going for lunch," and grab your bag and head to the precinct.

when you get there, you see the chaos your husband has caused. there's more people than necessary in the bullpen, desks are crowded and people are walking around with hurried steps.

"what's going on?" you ask spencer as you spot him in the kitchenette.

"hotch is making everyone redo case reports, apparently it's not up to par." he's stirring an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee. "i think he just needs to feel busy so he doesn't mull over your falling out."

spencer had gotten like a brother over the years you and aaron had been together and he's a damn good profiler so you're not surprised him or anyone else is aware of your fight.

"i'll go talk to him," spencer pats your shoulder, a marker of good luck as you weave through bodies to get to your husband's office.

you knock and his gruff, 'come in' isn't the least bit shocking. fights with him can consume him because he feels it's all his fault and that if something bad is happening it's because of him.

"aaron?" you mumble, skin clammy as you step into the hot, dark office.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" not honey. so he's still pretty pissed off.

"david said you weren't having the best day ever, so i thought we'd better sort the fight out." you say plainly as you sit on the lip of his desk.

you watch aaron's eyebrows crease to meet each other and then smooth out a couple times. "you know it's not your fault that we don't see each other as much as we'd like to, don't you?" you ask and watch your husband's shoulders sag.

"it's not yours either," he says softly, ashamed that he had implied that to you when you'd suggested having a day with just you two. "work is just work."

you nod, your hands reaching for his chair and rolling it closer to you. "it's hard, we both work odd hours, and that's fine." you reassure him, hands lost in his glossy hair. "but we have days off to take, even if it's just one."

aaron nods, letting his forehead fall to your sternum with a sigh. "i'm not mad at you for having a job like this, one that you love. i'd never ask you to leave it either, we just need to get better at managing our time together." you whisper the words as you continue playing with his hair.

"i'd never ask you to leave your either. i'm sorry everything got so convoluted." he says and you smile, kissing the crown of his head.

"i'm sorry too, my love." aaron raises his head and presses his lips to your jaw. "though, i think you need to apologise to david and the rest of the team. they've got agents from every department in the bullpen."

aaron sighs, his arms wrapping around your waist. "let them be busy for a little while longer, haven't had quiet time with my wife in a little while."

[anothermansjeans]

How would you think the team would react to meeting singer!reader??

HEHE FIRST TIME MEETING THE REST OF THE TEAM!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY !

cw: reader meets the team :), spencer gets embarrassed, reader gets embarrassed, but it's all in good fun!! song mentioned at the end is picture you by chappell roan!

wc: 1.1k

singer!reader masterlist

++

Having a two week break during a tour usually meant resting as much as possible before starting back up. For you though, it meant spending as much time with your boyfriend as possible before you're on the other side of the country.

Staying with Spencer brought normalcy to your life. Paparazzi weren't down your back, people minded their own business, and it was easy to blend in– he brought the calm to the storm that is your life. Today, you were feeling that it was time to get out of the house, and the only motivation that could muster you up out of bed was to potentially visit Spencer.

Y/N: paperwork day??

His response was almost immediate.

Spencer: Yes. There’s not much left to do. I’ll probably be coming home earlier today.

Y/N: awesome!! :) have you had lunch? i can bring you something!

Spencer: I have not. You don't need to come all the way here, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.

You smiled while reading his messages. He was always considerate of your feelings.

Y/N: noooo, i want to, spence. i want to meet the rest of your team as well…?

It took him longer to reply to this one, and you were scared you crossed an unspoken boundary.

Spencer: They can be a bit much, but as long as you're comfortable I would love for you to meet them.

You smiled, immediately letting him know you'd be there within an hour. It was almost exactly an hour later when you were walking out of the elevator onto his floor, clad with a baseball cap and sweats, holding your joint lunch in one hand and your phone and sunglasses in the other. You could spot Spencer within seconds, and as you got closer to his desk, you heard who you presumed to be his coworker whistle to him.

“Oh, pretty boy, I think there's a special delivery for you…”

Spencer whipped his head up, seeing you lift the brown bag as you continued to walk towards him. He stood up when you got to his desk, and took the bag from your hands, placing it next to the stack of papers before engulfing you in his arms. You– being completely used to this behavior– let out a giggle when you heard a muttered “who is that guy and what has he done to Reid,” coming from a woman off to the side.

You let go after a minute, and turned towards the three people currently standing with you. “Hi, I’m Y/N!” You sweetly smiled at them as they gawked at you, and you felt Spencer’s hand sneak up to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

The built man in front you eyed the interaction immediately, and gave a grin as he extended his hand. “Derek Morgan. It's great to finally meet you.”

You shook his hand and turned towards the two women, “Emily,” she too put out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m JJ,” the blonde said as you shifted to look at her. A gasp was heard from across the room, causing everyone to swivel their heads towards the sound, and there stood Penelope.

“Y/N!”

“Penny!” The two of you met in the middle for a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise, pumpkin.” The two of you giggled as the office doors above the bullpen opened up. The chatter below caused two men to make their way down with the rest of the group.

“Y/N, this is Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi,” Spencer said, moving back over to you and slyly placing his arm around your hip. Of course, he wasn't as sly as he intended because everyone on the team clocked the move.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the older man smiled.

“My son loves your music,” Aaron said, causing you to pale as you thought about the very explicit album you recently released, “the radio edits,” he added, noticing the relief flood your face.

You let out a breathy laugh and backed your body into Spencer's instantly melting into his body. “Right, well, I’m really glad I’ve met you all. Any time you want to hang out at a show just say the word. I’d be happy for you to come.”

They all hummed in appreciation, and Spencer gave you a squeeze, “do you want to have lunch?”

Looking back at him, you gave a nod, but before you could move an inch, Penelope spoke up. “Do you want to have lunch all together? The conference room is available and I don't think anyone has taken their lunch yet…”

Staring into Spencer’s eyes, you silently asked him if he was okay with it, and when he gave a subtle nod, you turned to Penelope with a smile. “We would love to! As long as that's okay with everyone?”

Everyone agreed, and you all sat around the round table getting to know each other as you dug into your lunch.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Spence, but I need to know what songs were specifically written about him.”

JJ’s question caused a blush to appear on Spencer’s cheeks and you stifled your laughter. “Um, well… the entire 'favorite’ album is about him.”

“Oh wow, an entire album?” Derek’s words were directed to Spencer, but instead of acknowledging him, he dug back into his sandwich.

A short laugh was released from your lips at the interaction. “Yes, a whole album. The uh, last five songs on my album ‘rebuilding’ are about him too.”

“And any singles?”

You lifted your eyebrows at the eagerness that came from Emily. “‘Espresso’, and 'Unconditionally’, but that one isn't officially out yet for streaming.”

“Wait, go back,” Penelope paused the conversation, “you said the last five songs… so ‘Picture You’ is definitely about Spencer?”

Now you and Spencer were both blushing. Clearing your throat, you looked everywhere but at the people around the table. “I mean… I like for my listeners to think about whoever they want… given the context of the song…” Spencer’s hand went to your knee, inching his hand towards your thigh and rubbing it gently, letting you know you're both in the same boat.

“But you…” Emily started, a small smile creeping onto her face, “thought about… Spencer.”

“Mhmm.” And that was all she was going to say on the matter.

“My man!” Beside Spencer, Derek clasped him on the shoulder and gave him a shake, everyone around you snickering.

As embarrassed as you were, you knew these types of conversations were bound to happen when meeting the people closest to Spencer, so in the end, as long as you had him, it didn't matter how embarrassed you were. For Spencer, it was the same. He understood your world the best to his ability, and he knew you showed your feelings best through your music. So what if he had to deal with a little bullying from his team?

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[sequinsmile-x]

Fracture

Theo Hotchner breaks his arm.

A mini-fic set post ITSWM. (I know I haven’t finished posting that yet but I wrote some fluff for this universe because I needed the serotonin, and thought you might too.)

Rating: General

Words: 2.5k

It happens in slow motion. Aaron watches as Theo falls from the jungle gym, landing awkwardly on his arm as he hits the ground. There’s a beat of silence, a moment where Aaron thinks everything might be ok when runs over, and then his son starts crying hysterically as he sits up. 

When he sees Theo’s arm, bent at an unnatural angle, his first thought is that Emily was going to kill him.

____________

Emily feels her phone ring in her pocket for the second time in as many minutes and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She knows it’s Aaron without looking, having rejected his initial call only a minute before with the intention of calling him back the minute she was free. He never calls her at work, knowing the pressure of her job since he had once done it himself. 

He usually texts her, sends her a photo of the kids as they do something adorable or slightly mischievous. Photos of Amelia smiling widely at the camera, or Theo and Jack playing Mario Kart together, matching looks of concentration on their faces. They helped, reminding her of what was waiting for her when she got home from horrific case after horrific case, that despite everything she still had her family. 

She’d never tell Aaron that they also hurt at times. Tiny reminders of what she missed out on when she was away. 

The fact he was calling her twice in such quick succession could only mean something was wrong. 

Emily looks at the team as they deliver the profile to the local detectives. Dave catches her eye and gives her a quick nod as she lifts her phone and tilts her head down a hallway. 

She answers the phone just as it’s about to ring out. “Aaron, is everything ok?”

Aaron sighs over the phone. “It’s Theo, he’s okay I promise, but he’s broken his arm.” 

For a moment she swears her heart stops in her chest, panic seeping through her body at the thought of her precious little boy being hurt. “He’s not okay if he’s got a broken bone, Aaron.” 

“Sweetheart.” He says firmly, preventing her from spiralling any further. “He’s in a bit of pain but he’s ok. He’s just convinced me this means we get to have ice cream for dinner.” 

She barks out a laugh that catches in her throat. “That boy will do anything for ice cream.” She pauses to take a breath, her emotions still overwhelming despite Aaron’s attempts to distract her. “What happened?” 

“He fell off the jungle gym.” 

She frowns at this, indignation running through her veins. “Aaron, I-”

“Yes, I know you told me he has almost fallen off of it before. I can’t exactly tell him he can’t go on it though sweetheart.” 

She sighs, and feels the anger leave her just as quickly as it came. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the room full of local officers and detectives start to disperse. 

“Do you want to talk to him?” Aaron asks gently. 

“Yes please.” She breathes out, and waits a second as she hears Aaron talking to Theo in the background, the sound of the emergency room they were in almost drowning out their conversation. 

“Hi, Mommy.” He sniffs, sounding incredibly sorry for himself. Her chest feels tight at the sound of it, at the use of the name ‘mommy’ when her 8 year old had mostly been calling her ‘mom’ lately. 

“Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?” 

“My arm hurts.” He grumbles. “The doctor said I could get a cast in any colour.”

“Really?” She asks, voice full of fake enthusiasm. “What colour are you going for?”

“Green.” He sniffs again, a sign that he had been crying that broke her heart. “Are you coming home?” 

Emily closes her eyes, and she blows out a breath. “I can’t, sweetie. I’m working, remember? I’m in Texas.” 

“Okay.” The disappointment in his voice is palpable, and it takes everything in her to not start crying there and then. Thoughts of how she could leave in the middle of the case, assign someone else as agent in charge and just go home and hug her son.

And maybe smack her husband for letting Theo go on the jungle gym in the first place.

“Emily.” Dave’s voice interrupts her and she turns to look at him, holding up a finger to show she just needed another minute.

“Theo, honey, I’ve got to go okay. I love you so much. I’ll call later.”

“Love you too.”

She smiles at that, as she has done every single time since he first said it. “Can you pass me back to Dad?”

There's another shuffle on the other end of the phone, a quick curse from her husband as one of them nearly drops the phone. “Sweetheart?”

“I’ve really got to go, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, we get it.” He reassures, clearly able to hear how sad she is, how torn she is over what to do. “Theo gets it too usually, you know you’re the first thing any of us wants when we’re sick or hurt.”

Emily nods despite the fact she knows he can’t see her, and she hastily wipes away the tear the movement drops onto her cheek. “I know, you Hotchner’s really can’t cope without me.” She jokes.

“We can get by until you wrap up the case.” He replies, and she can just imagine the grin on his face, the way it would bring out his dimples. “I’ll text when we’re home okay?”

“Yeah, thank you. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” 

She hangs up the phone and turns back to Dave, who is standing behind her still, with concern all over his face. “Is everything okay at home?”

Emily sighs as she puts her phone back in her pocket and starts to walk back to the conference room, Dave keeping pace at her side. “Theo’s broken his arm, so Aaron took him to hospital.”

Despite how neutrally she tries to say it she clearly fails, Dave coming to a stop and putting a hand on her arm. “The poor kid. We can always manage here if you need to head back.” 

She frowns at him. “I can still do my job, Dave.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said you couldn’t, Bella. I just know that you aren’t going to believe he’s fine until you see him for yourself.” 

“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine.” She practically growls at him before walking past into the conference room.

“Yeah.” Dave says to himself. “That was definitely said in a way a person who was fine would say it.”

____________

Emily was aware that she was in a foul mood, snapping at the team as they asked questions or every time they came up against a dead end. The need to get home as quickly as possible clawing at her throat. Photos that Aaron had sent her the night before of Theo with his bright green arm cast, and a bowl of ice cream in front of him only further deepening that need. 

It culminates in her shouting at Derek like she never had before, something that made him say the ‘Hotch attitude’ was finally rubbing off on her. She threatened him with victimology for the rest of his career and then stormed out, ignoring the way the locals looked at her as she did. 

She finds solace in the women’s bathroom, or at least she did right up until Dave followed her in.

“You shouldn’t be here, Dave.” She says as she briefly turns to look at him, before going back to looking at her weary face in the mirror. Sleep had not come easy for her the night before, George Foyet always making his way back into her subconscious every time someone in her family was hurt. 

“Neither should you, Emily.” He clears his throat, clearly ready for an argument. “Which is why I’ve booked you a flight home.” 

Emily turns quickly at that, stares him down. “You did what?” 

“I booked you a flight, it leaves in two hours. I’ll drive you to the airport.” 

She takes a step towards him and crosses her arms across her chest. “I can’t just leave in the middle of a case. I am the Unit Chief.” 

“And you’re a damn good one, but you’re also an excellent mother. And I know that you need to see your little boy more than he needs to see you.” 

Emily stares at him before nodding, relenting to doing exactly what she had been wanting to do in the 30 hours it had been since Aaron had called her. “You’re right. I’ll go. But I expect updates about what's going on here.”

“As you wish.” He stands out of her way so she can get past him and leave the bathroom. “The ticket is first class by the way, so drink some free champagne and do everyone a favour and chill out.” 

Emily grimaces as they walk back towards the conference room. “Have I really been that bad?” 

“You owe everyone at least one drink. I think you owe Derek a month off of paperwork.”

“He wishes.” Emily scoffs.

____________

Aaron watches in amusement as Amelia climbs onto the couch next to Theo and starts to, not very gently, stroke his hair. It’s what Emily did for all of them, Aaron included, when they were sick or hurt and Theo lets his sister do it, despite it clearly being the last thing he wanted. Watching his two year old daughter mirror her mother made his heart constrict, and he wished more than ever that his wife was here. 

His phone rings and he grabs it, smiling as he sees Emily’s name and picture on the screen. “Hey, how are things?” 

“I’m on a plane.” She replies, a small laugh in her voice. “Dave bought me a ticket and drove me to the airport. Took me as far as security would let him to make sure I got onboard.” 

Aaron couldn’t pretend he was anything other than relieved. He’d noticed the tension in his wife during the brief phone calls and text exchanges about their son’s injury. Not to mention Theo was miserable, barely putting up with his little sister's antics anymore, and getting crankier by the second. 

“What time do you get in?”

“Too late for you to even think about picking me up, I’ll get a cab home.” 

He wants to argue, to go get her and tell her everything is fine, but he knows that's not what she needs him to do. She would want him here, in their home, with their kids. “Okay, just text me when you land.”

“I will. Love you.”

“You too.” He says as he hangs up. 

“Everything okay, Dad?” Jack’s voice comes from behind him. 

Aaron turns to look at his 17 year old son. “Yeah, Emily is on her way.” 

Jack smiles at him, the same smile he inherited from Haley. “Uncle Dave sent her home?” Jack laughs at Aaron’s nod. “That’s a whole day sooner than you said it would happen.” 

Aaron laughs. “She must have been in a really bad mood.”

____________

When Emily gets home it’s already well past Theo’s bedtime. As soon as she is in the house she sneaks into his bedroom and her chest tightens at the sight of his bright green cast laid on a pillow next to him. Archie held tightly under Theo’s good arm. She walks over to his bed and presses a kiss to his forehead, whispering apologies for not being home earlier into his hairline. 

Amelia is also asleep. Emily sits down on the edge of her bed and tucks her in a little bit tighter and runs her fingers through her daughter's increasingly unruly hair.

Jack was still up, playing video games online with his friends. She pops her head in his room and quietly says hi, aware she had accidentally embarrassed him in the past. He throws her a grateful smile and a wave and she closes the door behind her. 

When she gets to her own room Aaron is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her, and immediately stands as she closes the door behind her. She’s in his arms before she can really register it, and the lump that had sat in her throat since Aaron called her about Theo dissipates almost immediately. 

Emily wraps her arms tightly around him, and presses her face into his soft t-shirt. “Hey.”

Aaron presses a kiss to the top of her head and rubs a hand up and down her back. “Hey sweetheart.”

He encourages her to get ready for bed, and joins her. Their nighttime routines are easily done around each other, years of practise behind them. Once they settle into bed he immediately pulls her into his arms and rests her on his chest. 

“You ok?” He asks gently, fingers running up and down her arm.

“Yes.” She swallows against the word, and it tasted like a lie. “No. I just feel like a bad mom.” She admits into his chest, the fear that had been circling around in her head for longer than the last couple of days bursting out of her. “I know I’m not.” She says as she feels him take in a breath to admonish her, and she rubs the tension from his chest with the palm of her hand. “Being their mom is my favourite thing, but when I can’t be here when my son hurts himself...it really sucks.”

Aaron hears the way her voice cracks, and the way her body shudders when she tries to hold back the tears he had no doubt she had been putting off since he called her to tell her about Theo’s accident. 

“You’re okay, Em. And so is he.” Aaron kisses the top of her head. “He’ll be so happy when he wakes up to see you tomorrow, and I’ll go back to being second favourite even though I gave him ice-cream two days in a row.” 

She pushes herself up by the hand on his chest, her tearstained face coming into view. “Two days in a row?”

____________

Theo is delighted to see her the next morning, all but forgetting about his broken arm as he launches himself at her. He begs her to sign his cast, to draw a picture on it for him, and she smiles when she sees the scribbles on it clearly left by Aaron helping Amelia hold the pen.

When her daughter realises she is home she squeals and demands to be held by her mother for hours. 

They watch a movie together, all of them piling into the living room. Theo chooses the movie, Monsters Inc, and Aaron levels a glare at Jack when he opens his mouth to complain. 

“Breaking your arm is fun.” Theo exclaims as he sits in between his parents, ready to watch his favourite movie. 

Aaron and Emily exchange a look over the top of their son’s head and they both suppress a laugh.

They were all going to be fine.

[writer-in-theory]

Hero Complex Part One: The Hero

summary: the reader gets assigned to the bau for her summer internship, and she’s overjoyed to meet her hero, spencer reid. after a misunderstanding when they first meet, she wonders if maybe he isn't who she thought he was. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader content warnings: language, age gap (spencer would be 29-ish and reader is 22), brief self-deprecating thoughts word count: 2.4k a/n: this is set at the beginning of season seven, so definitely major spoilers for the end of season six/beginning of season seven. specifically, i have this starting out between episodes one and two of season 7. i meant for this to be a one-shot and then it kind of took off, so this should be shorter series, around 3 parts or so (maybe 4?). I’d love to hear what you think!

masterlist series masterlist

When you’d gotten your official assignment from your contact agent, you were sure it was a dream.

“You’ll be interning with the BAU for three months this summer at Quantico,” he explained, but your brain stopped listening after ‘BAU’.

“The BAU? As in, the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all, Sir! I didn’t think they would take interns,” you scrambled to explain, heart racing at the thought of your contact agent assuming you were ungrateful. “The BAU is absolutely legendary. The way it started just from two agents and is now catching some of the most prolific killers in the country, I just, I can’t believe I get to learn from them.”

“Well, believe it, Kid, you start Monday.”

When Monday rolled around, you woke up two hours earlier than you needed to; completely filled to the brim with nervous energy. After nearly emptying your closet in an attempt to find your most professional-looking outfit, you were on your way to the FBI headquarters.

Despite the early hour, the building was already busy with agents and other personnel bustling about. You stood at the front desk of the building, hands up in front of your stomach as you mindlessly fidgeted with your fingers. SSA Hotchner had emailed you that weekend letting you know that one of the agents on the team would meet you in the main lobby to introduce you to the team properly.

Between the crowds of agents rushing into the building to start their shifts and the nerves now wrapping around your body like a vice, it was easy to miss her. “Y/N L/N?” The voice startled you out of your thoughts, finally making you notice the blond woman making her way toward you. Her smile was kind, soothed you in a way you weren’t quite expecting.

“Yes, yeah, that’s me,” you answered, sticking your hand out to shake, “it’s great to meet you, Agent Jareau.”

“Call me JJ, everyone else does,” the woman explained with clear laughter in her voice. The way her eyes softened every time you made eye contact and the way she fought against her smile let you know that she was endeared by you. Like a kid. It was a typical response you got, but it still made your shoulders dip a little. You knew you looked young for your age, and even then because of the way you’d fast-tracked high school you were a couple of years younger than your peers. You were used to being looked at like a kid, being underestimated. It just meant you had a lot to prove to this team over the three months you’d be with them.

JJ led you over to one of the elevators, explaining how the months at the same time. “You’ll report to Agent Rossi directly, but you might end up shadowing any of us depending on the day.”

“Wait, Agent Rossi? You don’t mean David Rossi, one of the founders of the BAU?” you gasped, hands already shaking at the prospect of being able to speak to such a legend. Not just speak to, but work with. “He practically created profiling. You know, 67% of serial killer cases taken by the FBI have been solved using criminal profiling? It’s completely fascinating ho—sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” JJ told you, and it sounded convincing enough, a different kind of look on her face now that you couldn’t quite place, “you’ll fit right in with the team.”

“I hope so.” The elevator door opened to reveal a much quieter floor, thank goodness. Your head moved on a swivel, trying to take in everything you could about the space you’d be working from. There were different hallways leading to closed offices, but the main room held a matrix of desks that you knew had to belong to the profilers.

JJ brought you first to the nearest doorway, an office enclosed in glass. The plate on the door let you know that this was Agent Hotchner’s office, the unit chief for the BAU. He seemed nice enough over email, getting straight to the point but making sure to let you know that if you needed anything you could always come to him. “Hotch, this is Y/N,” she called, getting the man sitting at the desk to snap his head up. Clearly, he’d been working on something important, from the way his eyebrows were still furrowed a little on his face. Or, maybe he was just that serious all the time.

“It’s good to have you here,” he welcomed, shaking your hand and not quite giving you a smile, but rather the impression that there was one in his eyes.

“It’s great to be here, Sir.”

“Agent Rossi told me how impressive your application was,” he told you, and you were sure your heart forgot how to beat for a second.

“Really?” Normally, you’d be embarrassed by the way your voice rose in pitch, clearly betraying your shock. David Rossi said you were impressive. “Thank you, Sir.”

Hotch nodded, going through a few more of the basic guidelines they had for interns before JJ took you to meet the rest of the team. You could travel with them on a case as long as it was deemed to be safe, otherwise, you would stay behind with a Penelope Garcia. You would not be placed in any dangerous scenarios, only allowed to join them in the field when the risk was properly evaluated.

Meeting the rest of the team went quickly after that. They all seemed to notice the new person right away, coming over almost as soon as they got to the right floor.

“Don’t tell me it’s ‘bring your kid to work day’, JJ.” The man looked intimidating—tall, clearly one of the strongest people you’d ever met—but the playfulness that filled his expression clued you into the fact that he would be one of the kindest people you’ve met.

“How old do you think I am?” the woman beside you balked, shaking her head at her friend. “This is Y/N, the new intern.”

“Derek Morgan,” the man introduced. “What are you studying?”

“Oh, um, I’m studying psychology, with a focus on behavioral and clinical studies.” This man, Derek Morgan, was incredibly charming. It almost threw you off, the way he smiled at you. Despite that though, you could tell he wasn’t intentionally flirting with you, this was just him. At least, you hoped.

“Man, when I was a freshman I had no idea what I wanted to do,” another voice called just to your left. A woman with dark hair walked up then, “I’m Emily.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you answered automatically, then began to process what she’d actually said. Oh, oh no, there had definitely been a big misunderstanding here. “I’m working on my doctorate in psychology, actually,” you explained softly, chewing on your lower lip right after.

“Kid, you can’t be more than 20,” Morgan piped up as Emily and JJ shared a look between each other.

“I’m 22, actually.” It wasn’t that different, only two years off, but somehow those two years felt important to you. “I’m working on my thesis project now, and my professor suggested this internship. He said he thought it would help.”

“Damn, have you met Reid yet?” Emily asked.

As if the job couldn’t get any better. Ever since you’d finished your undergraduate degrees, Spencer Reid had become a bit of a hero to you. You’d found one of his thesis papers while working on a term paper for your chemistry degree. The topic was interesting, and eventually, you found his other thesis papers, and then his co-authored essays on anything from the Fibonacci sequence to the various childhood stressors that could ‘create’ a killer. He’d also graduated high school early (though much earlier than you had), and it was comforting to know that someone like you had ended up being successful. The people in front of you must have noticed the change in your behavior (of course they did, they’re top-class profilers) because then JJ was asking, “You know him?”

“No, no I don’t. I just thought the name sounded familiar. I think I might’ve quoted one of his articles for a paper once,” you explain. Is there any way to lie to profilers? They weren’t mind-readers though, so you urged yourself to keep a neutral expression. When none of them said anything, you were sure you had gotten away with it.

Still, you couldn’t wait to meet him. His story was part of what kept you going through school. When you were sixteen, in a completely new state in a new city, living with all of these adults who had no idea how to act around you. When you were seventeen, and those adults became hostile toward you when they realized you could outpace them. Even this past year as you started your doctorate program, thinking now you’d finally start off on equal footing with everyone only to walk into a lecture hall of people much older than you, people who came to view you as competition rather than a friend.

It was a relief to know that eventually, you could get your dream job and you could be on the same playing field as everyone else.

“Speak of the genius himself,” Morgan spoke up, “Hey, Pretty Boy! Get over here.”

The order was impossible not to follow, considering the man in question was already walking toward the main desk area. He was, well okay, he was breathtaking. His hair was a little messy as if it had once been styled but he’d run his hand through it too many times on the way here. He could only be described as academic looking, you were sure you’d seen plenty of your professors dressed like he was.

And yet, your brain completely short-circuited in that moment. It was strange to meet someone you looked up to. You’d spent all this time putting this person up on a pedestal, almost to the point of forgetting they were another person like you. Now, he was in front of you and what could you possibly say?

It was JJ that came to your rescue, reminding you of why you wanted to stick close to her here. “This is Y/N, the new intern.”

“It’s great to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you spoke, trying not to wince at how eager you sounded.

He didn’t even look at you. Spencer was instead giving JJ an intense look that you couldn’t quite figure out, not bothering to notice you at all. While that stung, you could’ve gotten past that; but Spencer Reid didn’t stop there. Never once even sparing you a glance, he snapped, “Why do we need an intern right now? She’ll just get in the way.” He walked right over to his desk and sat down, clearly not noticing the way you reeled back like his words had physically slammed into your chest. He didn’t even have the decency to give you the room to react without feeling completely embarrassed.

If it were anyone else, you might’ve said something. You knew how capable you were. Hell, you had triple majored through undergrad simply because you couldn’t decide which thing you wanted to study, so you’d chosen them all. Agent Rossi wouldn’t have picked you if you would be in the way, and Reid needed to know that.

Instead, this was Spencer Reid, whose story kept you from reacting too negatively to your own situation. So you stood in shocked silence, lips slightly parted as you tried to come up with something, anything you could say to stop the awkwardness that spread over the air.

It was JJ who broke the silence, probably trying to defuse the situation but only digging the hurt in more. “It’s not about you, Y/N. It’s just not a good time to bring in new people, we’ve all gone through a lot recently.”

It’s not a good time. Suddenly you found yourself wondering why the hell Rossi and Hotchner agreed to bring you on. Did no one actually want you there? JJ could’ve been right, that he would have reacted to anyone as he had, but what if this was about you? They all seemed like great people, the type who would try to do the good thing. Were they faking kindness just to make you feel okay in this position? Did they not want anything to do with you? Would they all gather around a bar tonight and talk about how young you are, how naive and bothersome you are? Would they-

“Kid, Kid, are you okay?” The voice belonged to Morgan. He was looking at you like you might crumble at any second. From the way you felt your chest rise and fall far too quickly, you considered the fact that he might be right. She’ll just be in the way. You longed for the comfort Morgan was clearly offering, but you couldn’t prove Reid’s point right away.

Instead, you took a shuddering breath and righted your shoulders, nodding once. “I’m great. I’m also not a kid, Agent Morgan,” you told him with a smile.

“Around here you are,” Morgan laughed, slinging his arm around your shoulders and guiding you past the desks and down a hallway. “Now c’mon, you have to meet Garcia. I have a feeling you’ll get along well.”

So you kept going through your first day of work like that. You spent most of your time in Penelope’s lair as she called it, learning about all of the coordinating she did for the team. Eventually, you braved going back to the cluster of desks in the main room, though ended up sticking close to Morgan with whom you talked about the triathlon you’d run in undergrad and what sports teams were worth watching in the area.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the hurt didn’t sting but rather had dulled to an ache. So Spencer Reid wasn’t who you thought he’d be, and turns out maybe proving yourself at this job would be harder than you thought, but there were some great people on this team. There was no way you were letting someone like Reid try to scare you away from such a great opportunity, so you fell asleep with a deep determination settling in your chest.

No matter what, you would prove to Spencer Reid that you deserved to be there just the same as he did.

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[doctorstethoscope]

Yes, Mr. President || A Woman Scorned

art by @multiverse-mxdness

hi all I'm back!

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: hospital, discussion of car accidents and injuries, dark themes.

wordcount: 2.5k

“Hal,” Haley beckons an agent as she finishes up her breakfast in the residence the next morning.

“Yes, Mrs. Hotchner,” he says in return.

“My husband never came to bed last night.” She states— it’s not quite an accusation, but it’s not nothing, either. She sips her coffee.

“No ma’am.” He agrees.

“Why was that?” She prods.

“He was working late, ma’am,” he obfuscates.

“He’s also not in the building, Hal,” she points out, unamused.

“No ma’am,” he concurs, not taking the bait.

“Hal, please tell me where my husband went last night,” she asks pointedly.

Hal sighs— it seems she already knows the answer, or the heart of it, anyways, so he tells the truth– that you were in an accident, that the news was delivered to the President late in the evening, that he had gone to the hospital and remained there overnight.

“You mean that he hasn’t left her side,” Haley says.

“He hasn’t left the hospital yet, but she is scheduled to be discharged this morning,” Hal explains further. “He should be home shortly, ma’am.”

Haley breathes in deeply and lets out a resigned sigh, deep from her gut. “Thank you, Hal,” she dismisses him. “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

+++++

You send Derek away in the morning, tell him to get to the office and let the rest of the team know that you won’t be in. No sooner is he out the door than the President walks in.

“Tell me you didn’t sleep here,” You say when he appears in the doorway.

“I didn’t sleep here,” Aaron says easily– it’s not a lie. He hasn’t slept at all. Not that you buy it to begin with.

“Mr. President, the risk this presents to national sec—”

“You did not just call me Mr. President,” Aaron scoffs.

“It’s Monday morning, that’s who you are,” you tell him. You know that it doesn’t make sense, but you insist upon it anyway. The boxes you put him in, the compartmentalizing— it’s the only way you’ve survived this long.

“I don’t clock into work and stop being your partner,” Aaron tells you firmly. “I brought you some clothes,” he says, handing you a bag a member of the Secret Service has undoubtedly put together for you. “Listen– while you were sleeping, I made some arrangements. I had someone look through your apartment to make sure it was safe. He’s going to take you home and he’s going to stick around for a little while,” he explains gently, as if your sense of freedom and privacy was an old dog he could send to a farm upstate.

“You got me a Secret Service detail?” You asked, a little aghast.

“No, you’re not eligible for a detail unless you come back to the White House. I checked,” he explained. “Jake is former Secret Service, he’s… freelancing for me,” Aaron explains.

“I don’t need a body guard,” you scoff.

Aaron sighs. “This whole thing is fishy, angel. A guy comes out of nowhere, going too fast, on a road you travel on consistently, at the same time every week? There were no other reports of reckless driving in the area. So he comes out of nowhere, hits you going double the speed limit, doesn’t stop, and I’m supposed to just brush it off?” he pleads with you.

“No, Aaron— I’m supposed to file a report with the police, give a statement and cooperate, and you’re supposed to go be the President,” you tell him. “I don’t want protection, I’m not a member of the first family, I don’t deserve special treatment– I just want to go home.”

Aaron makes a sympathetic face, takes your hand in his. “I know. I’m sorry this happened. It just doesn’t sit right with me. If I’ve learned one thing over the past year… it’s that I don’t exist without you— not in a way that’s meaningful, not in a way that I like,” he confesses, squeezing your hand. “I can’t breathe without you. The man that I am without you, he’s– I’m nothing, and you are everything. I need you to let me keep you safe– I demand it,” Aaron says, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours desperately, life-affirmingly.

You bring your hands up to either side of his face, draw him in closer, allow him to consume you. “One week,” you whisper against his lips. “The agent can stay for one week, and if nothing else comes up, we move on with our lives. Freak accidents happen, Aaron. You’ll drive yourself crazy like this.”

“We can re-evaluate in a week,” Aaron compromises, kissing you to cut off any argument.

+++++

Haley’s waiting in the residence when Aaron comes up for a change of clothes, and he considers turning around and heading straight for the doghouse when he sees her face.

“Aaron, I’m leaving.” Haley says.

“You have a trip scheduled?” Aaron asks, playing dumb.

“I don’t,” Haley shakes her head with a gratuitous roll of her eyes. “I’m leaving you. I’m moving across the street into the Blair House. I’ll take the tunnels— no one will see me, or know what’s happening. We can keep it quiet from the press, but I am leaving you,” she states with a grave finality.

Aaron knows it’s inappropriate– hateful, even,--- but he can’t stop his chuckle— it’s childish, he knows it, but he truly can’t help it. “Haley, I asked you for a divorce months ago. This conversation seems a little late, if not completely far-fetched.”

“You want to be very careful with how you speak to me right now, Aaron— and with how you use this time,” Haley seethes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should stop fighting with me. It means you should take some time to think. It means I’m being nice today– keeping my mouth shut, leaving quietly, but I won’t be quiet forever,” she threatens. “It means you should learn how to behave before I walk into the briefing room and tell every reporter who so much as gives me a sideways glance all about my philandering husband and the mistress who’s got him on a leash.” Haley warns her husband. “I’m done, Aaron. Life as you know it is over. And I’m taking Jack with me. A boy needs his mother.”

“You will not take my son from me,” Aaron says– his tone is even, and he doesn’t shout, he never has, but all the rage he needs to convey is clear within the set of his brow and the harshness of his jaw.

“I hope you make the right choice. I hope you choose your family. And I hope you know that you don’t have a chance in hell of being re-elected once I start talking,” Haley leaves with one final warning.

+++++

Your bodyguard’s name is Jake, and he is thankfully, self-aware enough to give you a wide berth after he’s sure you’re safely ensconced in your apartment. The doctor said you should try to avoid sleeping, and you can’t go to work, so you settle for giving your apartment a good clean, taking care of the laundry you’d neglected and clearing out your fridge and pantry of food you’d allowed to expire. When there’s nothing left to do, you sit on the couch with a book, but find that it aggravates your head. You try the television, but it’s too loud, even on the quietest settings that you can reasonably hear. You sigh and settle for staring at the wall, accompanied by only your thoughts.

After a moment, you come to a realization and reach for your phone— it’s 8pm, so you decide you can risk a call. The accident has seemingly thrown your work-week balance to the wind anyways.

“Are you okay?” Aaron answers the phone, and you shake your head.

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “But you need to call your dog off,”

“Wow, he lasted a whole twelve hours, huh?” Aaron chuckles. “We said a week.”

“I know. But where is he going to go when I work tomorrow? I can’t very well tell them that you hired him.”

“Sure you can,” Aaon disagrees.

“Be serious, please,” you request with a whine.

“I am being serious. Haley moved out, you know,” Aaron slips into the conversation like it isn’t earth-shattering news.

The news throws you off balance, but you catch up quick enough. “Moved out to where?”

“Just across the street. She’s trying to call my bluff,” Aaron says nonchalantly.

“Are you sure? Haley doesn’t seem like the type to play games– I’d take her seriously,” you caution him. “Her ammo is pretty well-stocked.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron waves you off through the phone.

“Oh, well if you insist,” you roll your eyes at his aloof nature.

“Seriously. This is my issue to handle. Besides, I’m alone in the residence and you want to talk about Haley?”

“You’re insufferable,” you warn him with a good-natured roll of your eyes. “Talk to your wife, Aaron.”

“She’ll back down,” Aaron insists.

“Or she won’t.”

“She will.”

“Goodnight, crazy man!” You say, only a little exasperated.

“Goodnight,” he tells you. “Check in with me tomorrow, please?”

“I will,” you assure him before the line clicks.

+++++

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head the next day when Rossi calls your cell. “Rossi, I’m fine. Not you, too!!” you cry out as you answer the call, shutting your office door so you don’t disturb anyone.

“Not for long, kiddo,” Rossi sighs.

“What’s going on?” You say, picking up on his tone immediately.

“Haley’s at Blair House,” He says.

“I know, Aaron told me,” you say.

“The President, belissima, the President told you. You need to let him be the President.” Rossi counsels, sounding fully exhausted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

“She’s not budging. She packed her bags, and she left, and she’s going to announce to the world that her relatively high-profile husband is a man whore— and for some reason, I’m the only one taking her seriously!” He exclaims.

“I told him. I knew she wasn’t playing, and I told him, but he told me not to get involved,” you groaned.

“You need to get involved, like yesterday. You need to remind him what we did to get him here, you need to remind him that he’s the President before he’s your boyfriend,” Rossi says, his words harsh. “And may I remind you that the future of this nation hangs in the balance of it,” Rossi says before the line clicks.

+++++++

“My wife is throwing a tantrum, David. It’ll pass.” Aaron says as he signs a memo off to indicate that he’s read it.

“It’s not a tantrum, Mr. President, not this time. She’s digging in,” Rossi explains. “I need you to focus on this.”

“My focus,” The President spits out, “is on running this country, as yours should also be.”

“You won’t need to worry about running a country if you don’t handle the incoming nuclear missile that is your wife,” Rossi says.

“So go handle her, David,” he says. “Go explain to her the realities of the game she’s playing at. Go tell her that her every move will be scrutinized. Go tell her that our son will get dragged through the mud. Go tell her that every media outlet in this country will find a way to frame her as the bad guy.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Rossi says, heading for the door.

“She’s stubborn, Dave, but she’s not stupid,” Aaron reminds his chief of staff. “I’m done talking about it. She’ll come around, just like she always does.”

“The thing about Haley that you don’t seem to realize right now, Mr. President, is that she's very dangerous. She’s not thinking like the First Lady, and she’s not thinking like your wife. She’s thinking like someone who’s been hurt. She’s thinking like a woman scorned.”

++++++++

Each day that passes feels like pulling a jenga block from an already precarious tower. You, Aaron, Rossi and Haley– everyone holds their breath, waiting for the other to move, to pull the piece that sends everything tumbling down. You call Aaron late on Thursday night, feeling heavy.

“Hi, angel,” he says when he picks up the phone.

“Hi,” you say back.

“Is everything okay? You sound tired,” Aaron asks.

“It’s been a long week,” you understate.

“It has, but it’s almost over. Just us this weekend, just like always,” he tries to comfort you, but it only makes you feel worse.

“That’s actually why I called,” you confess, and Aaron feels his heart tighten.

“Oh?” He asks.

“I just… don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to keep sneaking off. I don’t want one of these weekends to be the thing that sets Haley over the edge,” you say.

“Is that really what you want?” Aaron asks, and you can hear his broken heart through the phone. It punches you in the gut.

“No, it’s not,” you tell him the truth. “But I think it’s the right thing to do. Rossi’s lectures this week about the future of the nation hanging in the balance of my actions really rubbed off on me, I guess.”

“He shouldn’t have put you in the middle of all of this,” Aaron sighs.

“He didn’t have to, Aaron. I am the middle— I caused all of this, my very existence is the middle.”

“Don’t say that. You are not the problem here, you are a gift and a blessing— you are not the problem, nor should you even be involved in solving the problem.”

“Aaron, you’re very sweet, even when you’re a little delusional,” you smile. It doesn’t make you feel better, but it makes you feel something close to better.

“Come to Camp David this weekend. Please. I’ll show you just how sweet I can be,” he pleads.

“We can’t, honey. You know that we can’t.” you tell him.

“We can,” he argues.

“We shouldn’t.”

“If that’s really how you want it to be.”

“It’s not,” you remind him.

“What is the point of all of this, then?” He argues, his tone getting sharper. “Who are we doing this for?”

“You, Aaron! I am doing this for you. I am choosing you, just like I always do. Even though I want to be selfish and choose myself. I am choosing you, because I love you, and because ten years down the line I want you to be able to look me in the eye. You won’t be able to do that if I choose me right now– if I throw caution and your presidency to the wind. I’m choosing you.”

“Honey, I—”

“It’s late, Aaron. Goodnight.” You say, hanging up the phone harshly.

tagging: @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @arsonhotchner @the-modernmary @ssamorganhotchner @angelfxllcm @ssahotchie @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix

@gspenc @g-l-pierce @wheelsupkels @chelseagirl77 @ashhotchner

[reidgraygubler]

skater boy (spencer reid)

Title: skater boy

Request: no

Pairing: dad!spencer reid/child!fem!reader

Category: fluff

Content Warning: not much tbh, mentions of the following: broken bones; getting broken bones, possible hospital visits

Word Count: 3,453

Summary: Spencer wants to spend more time with his daughter. So she teaches him how to skateboard

A/N: im back with another dad!spencer one-shot. We don’t need to address where all these dad! one shots are coming from. im just realizing that this is my favorite trope and this makes me very soft. And it made me very happy to write. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Spencer’s daughter had always been a dare-devil. Ever since she began walking, she would show-off. She would always give her parents heart attacks when she would show them a new trick she learned at school. Spencer vowed from the day she was born that he’d protect her like his life depended on it. But he didn’t know just how hard that would be.

While Spencer’s partner was gone on a business trip, he had to take on both parental roles. Usually it was no problem, he would get the help of the other members of the BAU team when he got stuck. But on the weekends, he was left on his own. He had no problem with that. His daughter was old enough to have her own forms of entertainment.

The list of hobbies she had was ever growing. Drawing was probably the safest one she had, but in her eyes it was the most boring. It was, however, Spencer’s favorite because he could keep an easy eye on her while he worked or made lunch/supper.

His daughter’s favorite hobby was skateboarding. Although she wasn’t very good at it, she loved the feeling of danger and risk it had. The majority of her friends at school also liked to skateboard. After all, she did pick it up from one of them. It didn’t take much convincing for her to jump on a skateboard.

When Spencer found out about his daughter’s new hobby, concern instantly took over. Concern for her wellbeing, her safety, and health. Skateboarding could be very dangerous if not wearing the correct protective gear. He didn’t want to take away his daughter’s new joy. But he also didn’t want her to get injured.

The day she came home with her friend’s old skateboard was very memorable for both her and Spencer. But for different reasons. His daughter was excited about her new hobby, and being able to show off cool tricks she was learning. As for Spencer…

She was in the middle of showing him a trick that a friend taught her. She was very confident in what she was doing, and told her father she could do it and that he just needed to stand off to the side. That was until she fell off the board and landed hard on the ground. Thankfully she didn’t hit her head, but the only reason for that was because she caught herself on her hand and broke her wrist.

This hobby was picked up only 3 months ago. Her wrist was still in it’s cast, though her determination to ride her skateboard never went away. Even though she knew her father was scarred for her safety, he didn’t stop her from riding. In fact, he got her the proper safety gear and a new skateboard. Of course Spencer only did that after he talked to the team, and got advice from them.

“Dad! Uncle Rossi’s here!” the teen shouted from the front door. David Rossi looked down at the girl, and the skateboard in hand. “I think he’s in his office.”

“I’ll head that way. Then the kitchen,” David nodded before entering the home more. Spencer’s daughter pulled the door shut before sprinting down the front yard to the sidewalk. She placed her skateboard on the ground before getting on and riding up and down the street.

Inside the Reid household, David was with Spencer. The father and daughter had decided to invite the team over for dinner since it was just the two of them, and it was the weekend. David was talking about the most recent case while Spencer read over some essays he needed to grade.

“Has she asked you to ride that thing yet?” David asked as he looked out the window. Spencer’s daughter was talking to one of the neighbor boys.

“Oh, uh, not yet, no. It’ll be the death of me the day she does ask,” Spencer laughed as he looked out the window. Spencer breathed out a laugh as he watched his daughter do a kickflip, landing it perfectly before looking back at the boys. Her hand was sticking out and a smirk grew across her lips. “I told her not to place bets.”

“Like father, like daughter?” David raised an eyebrow as he looked at Spencer.

“The least she could do is place bets with adults, not the kids next door.” Spencer looked back at David as he stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Would you ever ride that death trap?”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

“Of all the people I've asked, why do you surprise me the least?” Spencer laughed as he looked at his co-worker. David shrugged off the laugh and looked back at the young girl. The pair stayed silent as they watched the girl continue to show off to the boys.

A green mini van pulled to a stop across the street from the Reid’s house. Spencer’s daughter stopped skateboarding and looked at the van, watching 4 kids tumble out.

“Looks like the Simmons’ are here,” David spoke as he looked back at Spencer.

“It would appear that way. I’ll show you to the grill?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at David. David nodded before gesturing towards the door to his office.

“Lead the way.”

Back outside, Spencer’s daughter was talking to Matt’s sons as they stared at her skateboard. Matt and Kristy exited the car and quickly pulled out the baby carrier holding Rosemary. The girl was quick to go up to see the baby, a smile growing on her lips.

“Hey there, Chickadee. How’s it going?” Matt asked as he raised a hand for a high five.

“It’s going,” she replied, giving him the high five before peering into the carrier.

“When’s the cast coming off?” Matt asked as he looked at the girl. She looked down at the aqua blue cast and shrugged.

“Soon I think. I can’t wait because dad’s being such a drill sergeant about it," she shrugged again before dropping her skateboard to the ground.

“He’s just trying to protect you, Chickadee,” Matt smiled as he watched her place her foot on the skateboard. “Just be careful.”

“I’m always careful, Mr. Simmons.” She looked up at him with a smile.

“It’s Matt…” he laughed and watched as she rode away. Kristy looked at Matt then watched as the younger Reid fell off her skateboard and into the grassy yard.

“Looks like she’s always careful,” Kristy laughed as she lifted up the baby carrier. Matt looked over at the girl lying on the grass and laughed.

“Well, you better wish she doesn’t start teaching our kids how to skateboard,” Matt replied with a laugh.

Over the next 30 minutes, the rest of the BAU family arrived at the Reid household. JJ brought her kids and Will to keep Spencer’s daughter more company. Once everyone arrived, David started cooking the food while everyone sat and talked, or played in the drive-way.

“Why don’t you give it a go, Spence?” JJ asked as she watched Spencer’s daughter zoom past the house. Spencer looked over at JJ and shook his head.

“Yeah, I’d pay to see that happen,” Luke chuckled as the girl rode past them again. She came to a screeching halt and looked at Luke.

“You’d pay to see dad skateboard?” She picked up her skateboard and held it by the wheels. Luke smiled as he looked over at Spencer. “How much are you talking? Because, I’d love to get money to see my dad skateboard.”

“Peanut,” Spencer spoke up as the girl kept talking about money and bets, and trying to get her father to ride her skateboard.

“Yeah, Dad?” she looked back at her father once she was done babbling about getting him to skateboard.

“Go play," he nodded towards Matt’s children as they were playing with her toys.

“B-but,” she stumbled over her words as she pointed towards Luke.

“Go play.” Spencer repeated, that time a little slower. His daughter let out a sigh before placing her skateboard back on the ground and skating away.

“You sure you don’t want to try, Reid?” Emily smiled as she looked back at her friend.

“No, no. I’ll leave the skateboarding and dare-devil activities to her,” Spencer laughed before taking a sip of his water. JJ raised an eyebrow before looking over at the kids. Her eldest son was talking to Spencer’s daughter, asking her if he could ride the skateboard.

“She’d probably love it if you did,” JJ looked back at Spencer.

“Not for $100 will I ride that death trap,” Spencer declared before taking a sip of his water.

“What about $150?” David asked before sipping his drink. Spencer nearly spat his water everywhere as he looked over at David.

“If you say that loud enough she’ll hear you… And then I’ll never hear the end of it,” he pleaded as he looked back at his daughter, who was helping Henry on the skateboard.

“Maybe we should say it louder,” Luke chuckled as he looked over at the girl.

“You go ride it then,” Spencer nodded at Luke then at the children and skateboard. Luke looked back at Spencer and the rest of the team before standing up. “Oh, I didn’t mean it.”

“Shouldn’t have said it then.” Luke smirked as he walked past Spencer and towards the group of kids.

Everyone watched in silence as Luke approached Spencer’s daughter. She cocked her hip and looked up at the man that stood in front of her. An evil smile grew across her lips as she undid the helmet on her head and held it up to Luke.

“Dad says you have to wear it if you’re going to ride the skateboard,” she explained as she kept the helmet between their bodies. Luke looked down at the girl, watching as she guarded the skateboard with her life.

“Fine, I’ll wear the helmet-”

“And the knee pads.” She smirked.

“And the knee pads.”

“And the wrist splints,” she quickly added as her smirk grew evil.

“I’ll wear the helmet,” he grumbled as he put the helmet on his head and clipped it on. The young girl smiled as she handed him the skateboard.

“Okay, well, don’t come cryin’ to me when dad tells you should’ve worn the knee pads and the wrist splints.” she stated a matter of faculty as he placed the skateboard down. Luke playfully glared at the girl before getting on the board. “Do you even know how to ride a skateboard, Uncle Luke?” “I was skateboarding before you were even born, Twerp.” Luke glared at the girl before taking off, only to fall off and into the yard beside him. The girl smiled before walking over to him, a smirk growing on her lips.

“You sure about that, Twerp?” she looked down at him. Luke sat up and looked at the girl. “Good thing you wore the helmet.”

“Yeah, yeah good thing I wore the helmet,” Luke rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up. The girl grabbed her skateboard and looked back at Luke. “When you teach your dad how to skateboard, make sure you get it on video.”

“Obviously,” she stated with a laugh. “That’ll get a bunch of views.”

“You’re terrible. You know that? Does your dad know you’re this mean?” Luke raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the young girl. He wondered how a man with book smart knowledge like Spencer Reid had such a street smart daughter. They were total opposites. Luke just blamed it on her other parent. And all of her unofficial aunt and uncles were cooler.

“Food’s done!” David shouted before the girl could answer. She looked up at Luke with a smirk.

“I’ll let you play with it while I eat. Since you’re still wearing the helmet and all. I’ll leave my knee pads and wrist splints on here for you.” She smiled as she pulled the gear off and placed it on the ground. The girl smiled at Luke one last time before skipping off to get dinner.

{***}{***}{***}

The following day, Spencer went to the store, and returned, before his daughter even woke up. He bought himself a skateboard, a new helmet, and all the correct paddings and splints he knew he would need. If he was going to let his daughter teach him how to skateboard, he was going to need the proper protection. He wasn’t going to risk any sort of injury. And, if nothing worked out for him in the end, at least his daughter would have a brand new skateboard.

Spencer waited until his daughter woke up before he started messing with something out of his comfort zone. He knew his daughter would be more than excited to teach him how to skateboard. It’s secretly all she wanted to do for the last 3 months. And if Spencer had to be honest, he wanted it too. Just a little bit.

Spencer could hear the sounds of feet hitting the hardwood floor. He sat up and placed his book on the side table beside him. The footsteps went down the stairs, and then entered the living room.

“Oh! Mornin’, Dad!” the young girl smiled at Spencer. Spencer looked at her and nodded in her direction.

“Good morning, Peanut,” Spencer smiled before taking a sip of his coffee. His daughter looked at him with squinted eyes and cocked head.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she rested her fists on her hips. Spencer’s eyebrows inched up his forehead before he shrugged.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on.” Spencer sat up more and looked at his daughter.

“But you’re… talking in that weird tone… And you definitely only do that when somethings up.” She lifted her hands from hips and crossed them over her chest.

The thought of her parents getting a divorce came across her mind. But she knew her parents loved each other too much for that to happen. She knew better than to think that either of her parents would be dying too. All she knew was something was definitely off.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Hope to die,” Spencer spoke as he lifted a hand to rest over his chest. “How about you go get breakfast and get ready for the day… Then I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

“So something is happening! I knew it!” she shouted as she pointed at her father. “How am I supposed to eat and get ready for the day when I know that something is happening?!” she clapped her hands together. “Is it a good thing or bad thing?”

Spencer stared at his daughter for a moment, and then he realized she was definitely his. He was also getting a taste of his own medicine as she rapidly began shooting out her questions and thoughts or theories.

“Is Uncle Luke and Aunt Penelope finally getting married?”

“What? No! They’re not.”

“Aunt JJ having another baby?”

“Peanut, go eat and get ready. Then I’ll tell you. But I promise you that it’s a good thing. Okay?” Spencer asked as he tried to keep his tone calm and steady. The girl grumbled a little before walking away.

She tried being quick, wanting to know what Spencer was up to. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from his daughter. He was up to something, and it was her job to figure it out.

Once she was finished getting ready for the day, and shoveling cereal into her mouth, she went back into the living room. There, she found Spencer, still sitting on the couch, reading a book. However the only thing that changed was that sitting on the coffee table was all the gear he had gotten this morning.

“No way! A new skateboard!?” she exclaimed as she ran to the coffee table and fell to her knees. She picked up the board and looked at it with wide eyes.

“Yes that would be a new board. But it’s not for you.”

“What? Who it for then?”

“Me.”

“You don’t even know how to skateboard.” She stood back up and looked at her dad. Spencer closed his book and placed it on the side table.

“Well, Peanut, I was hoping you could teach me how to skateboard.”

“You want me… To t-teach you how to skateboard?” she stared at him with wide eyes. She had to hold back her laughter as she started imagining Spencer on a skateboard and inevitably falling to the ground. Then she thought back to her conversation with Luke the night before. She wasn’t going to miss the chance of recording the epic fails of Spencer falling off the skateboard.

“Well you always seem so excited about it! I want to experience and understand why you get so excited. And, if anything, if I don’t do good, or I don’t like it, you can have my skateboard.”

“You mean it?!”

“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it, Peanut.” Spencer smiled as he watched his daughter pick up the new skateboard.

“Can we do it now? Please!”

“Did you do your chores?”

“I’ll do them after!” she exclaimed as she hugged the board to her chest. Spencer looked at her with a raised brow. “Promise!”

“Alright, alright. We can practice for an hour okay?” Spencer stood and grabbed the rest of the gear.

“Sweet! I’m gonna go grab my stuff!” She shoved the board into Spencer’s hands before running outside.

Spencer eventually met his daughter outside, on the driveway. She could sense his nervousness and terror as she helped him with his stance. “When you’re ready to move, just bring your foot to the ground and kick off. Then when you want to turn, just lean your body in the direction you want to turn,” she explained as she got on her own skateboard.

“That… that seems easy enough,” Spencer whispered, his voice trembling as he spoke. His daughter looked at him with a smile. She was trying to hold back her laughter when she realized that his hair was sticking out weirdly from under his helmet.

“It’s not that hard, Dad. I don’t know why you’re so scared about it.”

“Well for starters, Peanut, you did break your wrist while skateboarding.”

“Yeah, but… I could’ve broken my wrist by just falling. It’s fun! Come on! If you fall we can try again," she smiled as she started riding around him.

Spencer laughed nervously before kicking off and riding down the driveway. He was doing good, he thought. That was until he went over a rock, throwing him off the skateboard and on to the grass.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked as she walked up to him. He looked up at her and nodded.

“Yeah, just startled.”

Although they agreed on an hour, the father and daughter were outside for a lot longer. Spencer was determined to get it right on the first day. He thoroughly enjoyed the time he spent with his daughter. He could see that she was getting frustrated with his little mistakes, which would end in him falling, but she still remained calm and helped through it.

“Dad… I mean this in the nicest way possible… But you’re bad. You’re not even on the way to getting good... You’re just straight up bad.” She watched as Spencer fell off the skateboard and into the grass for what seemed like the 100th time. He looked up at her from his spot on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Spencer sighed as he stood up, “I don’t think I’m built for skateboarding.” He picked up the skateboard and looked down at it. “I might just leave the skateboarding to you, Peanut.”

The girl looked up at him with wide eyes as he offered her the new, nicer skateboard. “You don’t want to keep trying?”

“I think for today I’ve had enough practice. We can do it again another day. But, in the meantime, you can use my skateboard.”

“Really?”

“Do your chores first then you can use it all you want.” Spencer smiled as he handed her the skateboard. She looked down at the new item in her hands with wide eyes. Her old skateboard was no longer a thought in her mind.

“Right! On it!” she exclaimed before running back into the house.

Once Spencer was sure his daughter was inside the house, behind closed doors, he flipped over her old skateboard and stepped on it before doing a successful kick flip and riding it up the driveway. He was just pretending to not know how to ride a skateboard.

After all it was just easy geometry and physics.

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @spencersmagic @babebenhardy​ @spenciegoob​ @reidspoet​​ @ash19871962​ @flipperpenguins​

[moon-light-jukebox]

Learning Styles - [Reid x Reader]

Summary: Reader has worked hard to get to the FBI, but a misunderstanding has her feeling insecure. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG

Content Warning: Mention of normal criminal minds stuff briefly. 

A/n: I got these two requests and they were so similar I decided to combine them. I hope that’s okay, but I feel like the stories would have been almost identical. 

Requests:  - I have a fic suggestion. Reader pretends to be dumb but is actually really smart. I’m thinking of that quote about marilyn ”you have to be really smart to pretend to be dumb”. One day spencer realizes that reader is smarter than she lets people know.

- Hi! Can I request a spencer reid x reader fic where reader isn't great with numbers but brilliant with behaviour and humanities (i.e. literature, history, sociology, up to you)? Maybe a dash of insecurity to spice things up?

-- Learning Styles -- 

My favorite professor in college told me that everyone learns differently; what works for one person won’t work in the same way for another. We are all different human beings that are shaped in different ways.

I had always been oddly insecure about my intelligence level. One of my earliest memories was my mother yelling at me while I sat at the kitchen table when I was in first grade. I was the only kid in my class who still hadn’t learned how to read. I just didn’t understand. All of my friends were progressing so much quicker than me and my mother was losing patience.

It wasn’t until my grandmother stepped in that everything changed. My elementary school teacher was training children to read by memorizing sight words, a concept I didn’t understand. When my grandmother sat down and taught me phonics. I distinctly remember everything snapping into place.

I was in 1st grade and reading at a 7th-grade level by Christmas. Once I finally understood my learning style, I really began to thrive.

But no matter what I did, I could still hear my mother yelling at me, telling me I was stupid.

In my line of work, I see just how much the throw away comments that parents make can shape a child’s development. Luckily, those comments just made me a bit insecure, not a murderer.

Up until I was 22, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do beyond this desire I had to help people. SSA David Rossi had come to guest lecture in one of my abnormal psych classes during undergrad. After I heard him speak, I was done. I couldn’t have done anything else with my life. I had obtained my master’s in psychology before I joined the FBI.

It took some time, but I was finally assigned to the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico. I was so excited on my first day that I remember my hands physically shaking.

Until they weren’t.

I can still remember my first day so clearly. SSA Hotchner had introduced me to the team, saving the “best” for last.

“And this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he had said. “He’s our expert on…well, everything.”

Reid was my age and he had his Ph.D. I remember feeling awed by him.

Until I didn’t.

"I hold 3 Ph.D.'s in Chemistry, Engineering, and Mathematics. I also have BAs in psychology and sociology."

I remember my jaw almost hitting the floor. While I was impressed by him, I wasn’t insecure about my place on the team.

Until I was.

My grandmother may have helped me master reading, which opened the door to me mastering anything else I put my mind to…except math.

I was fine at statistics, luckily. You couldn’t get a psych degree without a ton of statistics work. But statistics was different, I could see the practical use of statistics. I just couldn’t wrap my head around calculus or algebra.

On my first case with the team, Reid had calculated some insane mathematical equations on the whiteboard, running down the probabilities and applying a mathematical formula to the unsub’s behavior.

It wasn't until later, after the case was solved when I was standing in front of the whiteboard that my confidence was hit. Reid had come into the room and saw me looking at his work.

“Don’t bother trying to understand it,” he had said. “You’d have to be a genius to understand what I do.”

I didn’t have a word to describe the feeling that settled in my stomach at his words, I wasn’t sure such a word existed. The feeling was cold and heavy, but also made my body burn with shame.

I had just offered him a tight smile before I left the room.

On the plane home I had made a decision. I was no match for Dr. Reid, I doubt anyone was. So, I would take myself out of the competition. I couldn’t get hurt if I wasn’t playing the game.

And that is how the next year of my life went. I allowed Dr. Reid to explain things to me that I was an expert in, never saying a word. I acted like I didn't understand concepts that I had written papers on. The only thing I didn't dumb down was my profiling skills. Those were necessary for my job and for saving lives.

I don’t think anyone realized what I was doing.

Until they did.

--

The team had been called to Colorado to assist in capturing a serial rapist.

All of our cases bothered me, every last one…but something about ones with this vile element really struck me.

We had the unsub’s name, Tyler Childress. He had spent time in prison for sexual assault and burglary. It seems while he was in prison, he spent time perfecting his methods; it was only by pure luck that we found his fingerprint inside the victim’s house, making him the main suspect.

When we paid Mr. Childress a visit, he had managed to get the drop on Prentiss and Morgan, allowing them to escape. Morgan was furious.

All of us were sitting around a conference table in the local prescient while we let Dr. Reid talk.

I was trying to be calm, I was, but my nails were digging into my palm so deeply I was worried I was about to draw blood.

“Guys,” the expert on everything said. “He has to have some sort of accomplice.”

Rossi just sighed. “But the profile doesn’t point to him being the sort to do well with others; he’s a narcissist.”

Reid wouldn’t budge. “I know that, but he isn’t intelligent enough to pull this off alone. He’s just not. He had an IQ test done when he was 20. He scored in the mentally handicapped range. I’m telling you he has to have help.”

“Are you sure, Reid?” Hotch asked.

“Positive. I have his results right here.”

“IQ tests aren’t a good measure of intelligence on their own.”

I was so startled that someone had contradicted Dr. Reid that it took me a second to realize it was me who had contradicted him.

He turned to face me; his brown eyes wide. “What?”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “IQ tests aren’t a good measure of intelligence.”

Dr. Reid laughed. He laughed at me like my comment was funny. “I don’t know where you heard that,” he began.

But I interrupted him. "IQ tests are classist and oftentimes racist. The man who invented the IQ test never intended for it to be used as a complete measure of intelligence. He regretted making the test.”

Reid sputtered. “You…it’s not racist!”

“Yes. It. Is.” I ground out. “If it wasn’t it wouldn’t be illegal to administer an IQ test to a black child in the state of California.”

"Wait, it's illegal to do that?" JJ asked, her brows drawn together.

"Yes. There was a court case in the 1970s over it. Teachers were using tests to separate white children from black children. The black children were put into special education classes they didn’t need to be in. Just because the teachers didn’t want those children in their classrooms.”

I should have stopped, but I was on a role. “They’re also inherently classist. How can you expect a child to answer a question about Romeo and Juliet if they haven’t heard of it?”

That had Dr. Reid scoffing. “Everyone has heard of it.”

I shot to my feet, unable to hold back anymore. “No, they haven’t. Children in underfunded schools that don’t have access to resources might not have heard about the most famous play in history because their school wasn’t able to provide the materials to teach them about it. There was a study done in a remote part of Russia right after the IQ test was invented. Every. Single. Person. Scored in the mentally handicapped range. Because they didn’t understand.”

I knew my voice was rising but I couldn’t stop myself. “Once the researcher took the questions and applied them to things they understood, they all scored as above average. They didn’t understand math as an abstract concept, but they understood it when it was applied to their businesses, to something they actually knew about.”

I cleared my throat. “The test isn’t fair, it’s not equal. Tyler Childress didn’t go to a good school and he didn’t have a stable home life. You can’t use one measure to calculate his intelligence. He’s gotten away with 7 assaults so far that we know of. He’s not stupid.”

The entire room was silent once I had stopped speaking. I couldn’t bring myself to regret it though. What kind of person was I if I played dumb because I was afraid of being mocked when a monster was out there attacking women? No, those women deserved to have me at my best.

And I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t give it to them.

Rossi spoke first, his eyes twinkling when he looked at me. “Took you long enough,” he said. “But y/n is right. We trust the profile; we don’t let personal bias cloud the way. That’s how we catch this bastard.”

--

Later that day, we were cleaning up the conference room while the local police processed Tyler Childress.

Pathological narcissism is a complex disorder, but we followed the profile and Rossi was right. Hotch set up a press conference in which JJ and Prentiss took center stage. They tore Childress’s ego to shreds on live television.

His narcissism wouldn’t allow that to slide. He got angry, he made a mistake, and we got him before anyone else got hurt.  

While the cat was out of the bag about my intelligence and that made me nervous, I couldn't regret any of it. I got to be the one to tell our last victim that we got him. I got to hug her while she cried because now that he was locked up, she felt like her healing could begin. I wasn’t sure if my rant about structural racism and the classism of IQ tests actually helped anything, but that didn’t really matter. There was one less monster in the shadows.

Today was a good day.

I was alone in the conference room, untacking photos from the evidence board when I heard someone clear their throat from behind me. I turned my head to meet the wide, honey brown eyes of Dr. Spencer Reid.

Oh boy, I thought. “What’s up, Reid?”

He shifted from foot to foot, his hands twisting in front of him before he crossed his arms over his chest. “I asked Garcia to look into you.”

My eyebrows drew together. “I’m pretty sure any nefarious things I had done would have popped up on my initial background check.”

“Right, I didn’t mean like that,” he mumbled, the apples of his cheeks turning pink. “I asked her to look into you academically.”

Shit.

He went on. “You double majored in psychology and sociology before you got a master’s in cultural psychology. She pulled your thesis. I just read it.”

“I see.” I turned my attention back to the board.

“You also guest lecture on cross-cultural psychology at Georgetown several times a year. And you’ve co-authored two papers since I’ve known you.”

Meh, it’s three. But that doesn’t matter. “Did you read those too?”

I took his silence as confirmation.

He was so quiet I almost thought he had left, but the crackle of energy I felt in the air told me he hadn’t. “Do you need something, Dr. Reid?”

"Why didn't you get your Ph.D.?"

I had answered that question many, many times. “I didn’t need a doctorate to do what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to waste time. Once I figured out what I wanted, I charged at it.” Which was a far more honest answer than most people got about that from me.

“W-why did you pretend to be dumb?” he rasped out, causing me to look back at him. “32 days ago, you let me explain the long-term effects of gerrymandering and the complex causes of poverty.”

“Of course, I did,” I said, frowning. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“One of the papers you authored was about generational poverty.”

“Just because I know a lot about something doesn’t mean I can stop listening to information. That sort of thinking breeds ignorance.” I smiled, unable to not tease him just a little bit.

Reid took a step closer to me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I just shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t have a good answer.”

In all the months I had known him, Spencer Reid had never touched me, not even so much as a finger brushing against mine when he handed me something. That fact is why I was so startled when I felt his hand on my upper arm, turning me towards him.

He licked his lips, his eyes darting around. “Did everyone else know?”

I shook my head, my teasing mood long gone. "No. I mean, clearly, Rossi suspected but…No, I didn't tell anyone else."

“I just don’t understand. You’re brilliant.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not. I’m decent a psychology, sociology, stuff like that. I can’t apply math to behavior to find patterns. I can’t even calculate how much something is gonna cost when it’s on sale without a calculator half the time.”

‘What do you…” Reid trailed off. “Wait. The very first case. You were looking at the evidence board.”

Goddamn eidetic memory.

The boy wonder was on a roll now. “I told you that you’d have to…is that why you didn’t tell me?”

What else could I do? I just nodded.

Those brown eyes closed, and he let out a groan. “I said that because I thought you were going to…I was worried…” He huffed out a breath and opened his eyes. “I wanted you to like me. I didn’t want you to think I was just a nerd.”  

Now I was confused. “Why?”

Spencer Reid’s blush went all the way down his neck. “Well…I just…Morgan said I should just talk to you. But I’m not…I’m not good at that. I panic, then I start to ramble. Like I’m doing now…”

“Reid,” I interrupted. “I’m not playing dumb now. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I like you,” he blurted out right before he smacked both of his hands over his face. “Oh my god. I sound like a child.” I thought I heard him mutter idiot under his breath. “Emily says that my IQ gets slashed to 60 whenever I see a pretty girl.”

Much like that moment all those years ago when I was a child, I felt everything click into place. Oh.

I couldn't suppress my smile any longer. I rose up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Well, we've already gone over how IQ tests aren't a good measure of overall intelligence."  

With that, I quickly stepped away and hurried out of the conference room, leaving a stunned genius in my wake. When I turned back to look at him, I saw his fingers brushing over the place where my lips had just been.  

--

Permeant Taglist : @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo​ @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​ @andiebeaword​ @imjusthereformggcontent​ @rainsong01​ @violentvulgarvolatile​ @mys2425​ @al3xmnd​ @imfalling-inlove​ @cielo1984​ @shadyladyperfection​ @kissingvalentino​

comment/message to be added 😊

[1234-angelika]

Sugar Rush

an:Hey y'all! I'm really excited for this week, lot's of good content coming out. This is the second installment of the Happily Ever After series for David. As always, enjoy!

words:1.1k

warnings:none. If you see any please message me and I'll add it.

summary:"Baking and love go hand in hand, for as one bakes a tasty treat and fills the room with its sweet aroma, the true joy is to take what has been made and share it with another." -Heather Wolf

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

In the 5 months since the book signing, you and David had been texting back and forth. You were just slightly confused by the mixed signals you were getting from him. Or maybe, you were just misinterpreting them.

The shrill screech of your alarm brought you out of your peaceful sleep. It was so early, the sun hadn’t even come up. You began getting ready for the day, comfy clothes for your busy day ahead. Today was recipe testing day. You started with a cup of coffee and a brainstorming session on what you were going to make. An hour later, you started on the baking. Time quickly passed you by, and your dining room and some of the kitchen counters were covered in a countless variety of baked goods—all recipes for the upcoming book. By noon, you were covered in flour, and the kitchen was a disaster. You walked into the living room and took a seat on the couch, only meaning to take a break.

When you woke up again, the sun was setting, and there was some incessant knocking on your front door. You groaned and pushed yourself into a seated position, waiting for the blood rush to pass before you lifted your body off the couch and went to answer the door. With a huff, you swung the front door open, only to be greeted by the root of your confusion in person. The smile that previously occupied David’s face quickly morphed into something akin to a smirk, making amusement the only emotion you could read on his face.

“Bella! What happened to you? Did the flour attack you?”

A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, and with a shrug and a yawn, you answered, “Nope. Just testing new desserts for my next book.”

You moved out of the doorway and motioned for him to enter, no longer wanting to be in the cold. He stepped into your home with a smile. As he stepped in, you didn’t think to ask what had prompted his impromptu visit to your home; instead, an idea popped into your head.

“Do you want to come in and try them for me? Please? I need another opinion, at this point, they all taste the same to me.”

“Why not,” he answered.

You locked the door and led him to the kitchen through the winding corridors. As the pair of you stepped into the kitchen, a chuckle came from him.

“What?” You questioned.

“It looks like your baking supplies fought with you, and won!” He answered, still chuckling—a friendly grin on his face.

With a huff, you began to clean the kitchen, fully expecting him to sit down and taste some of your newest creations. Instead, when you turned to the sink, you found him putting on gloves and preparing to help you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious. You had had guests over before, and none of them ever offered to help you clean up.

“I’m going to help you. It’ll be done faster and then we can both enjoy your baking and chat.” He answered, smiling and then he gestured for the two of you to get started.

You began to clean like you were on fast-forward, energized by your accidental nap. Instead of the usual four hours, it took you to clean up after recipe testing, with David’s help, it only took an hour and a half. When all the cleaning was done, you made your way to the dining room, coffees in hand. As you both tested the pastries, light chatter filled the air, complementing the crunching and chewing. You were catching each other up on the day-to-day in your lives. When David finished his second coffee, he checked his watch and choked on the air.

“It’s already 2:30 in the morning!” He announced. You were shocked at how time had gotten away from the both of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry David, I know you have to go into the office tomorrow.” You said apologetically, hoping he wasn’t harbouring any ill-will toward you.

“Don’t worry about, I’ll just head out now.”

“No way! I’m not letting you drive when you’re this tired” As you said this, he let out a massive yawn, and a sheepish look made its way onto his face, “I have a guest room, you can stay in there.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on your space….”

“I’m sure. It’s better not to risk it.”

“Okay. I’m just going to get my go-bag from my car.”

He walked out the front door, and you waited downstairs for him. When he came back in, you locked the door and then asked him to stay in the living room so you could get the room ready for him. Hurriedly, you walked up the stairs and made it into the room. You fluffed the duvet and plumped the pillows. You grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and placed it on the chair in the room. Grabbing some towels, in case he decided on a shower, you put them into the bathroom. You grabbed him from downstairs and lead him to the guest room, telling him where everything was. After dropping him outside the room, you continued down the hall to your own space when you heard your name. Turning around, you saw David in the doorway of the guest room.

“Yeah?”

“Since I’m spending the night at your place, I think I should at least take you to dinner.”

“Oh yeah? When?”

“I was hoping you were free on Friday.”

“Hmm… I’ll have to check my schedule,” you pulled out your phone and put the date into the calendar, and with a smile, you said, “Look at that! Looks like I’m free.”

“Okay, I’ll text you the information.”

“Good night David.” You said with a goofy grin, the high of being asked out by him rushing to your brain.

“Buona notte Y/N.” He responded before going back into the room and gently shutting the door behind him.

As you got ready for bed, you heard the tap for the shower creak on in the next room over. You continued with your usual nightly routine, making sure the doors and windows were locked, thermostat down and lights off before you got comfortable in your bed. An hour of Netflix later, you were ready to sleep. That night, you went to bed with a smile on your face, not for the usual reason; no, this was because of the man in your guest room. David Rossi.

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

[scandinavian-girl]

December 3rd: “It’s just what I wanted. Thank you.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (she/they pronouns)

Trigger warnings: killing, death, case related stuff, mentions of drug and sexual abuse.

Word count: 911

A/N: thank you to my friend who proof reads these blurbs.

Both you and Spencer had woken up to an empty bed. It reminded you both that you were many miles away but it didn’t stop either of you when it came to communication.

When Spencer had woken up in his hotel room, he was quick to write you a text message saying that today he would be too busy with the case but promised to call you when he would go to bed.

A knock came from the door to his room.

“Come in.” He called as he tied his tie.

Emily came in, in a hurry. “We have to hurry. Another body has just been discovered near Rocky Mount with the same MO and possibly the same victimology. It’s a 2 hour drive and Hotch wants us to leave immediately.” She explained.

“I’ll be right there.”

As Spencer, Emily and David drove to the crime scene, Spencer made a random phone call.

“Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I would like to order a bouquet of red roses and white lilies for today.”

“Do you want the largest one we can make or something smaller?” The woman on the other end asked him.

“Not the largest one but the size under that.”

“Noted. Do you want a card sent with it?” The woman asked him.

“Yes please.” He smiled.

“What would you like there to stand?”

“This is an odd request but, do you know the lyrics to 12 days of Christmas?”

“I do.” She giggled. “I can already guess that you want to send your significant other 12 bouquets over the span of 12 days with the lyrics written on a small card?”

“You guessed correctly.” He blushed and looked out of his window. “Would it be possible if you could deliver the first one today?”

“We sure can.” she said back to him. “Shall the remaining of the bouquets be surprises when it comes to the flowers?”

He smiled and chuckled once again. “Yes please.”

—

After being at the new crime scene for a bit over an hour, the team needed a break away from the decomposing smell of the body, so they took a step outside the house to gather some fresh air.

“So kid, what was that phone call all about?” Rossi asked Spencer with a smirk on his face.

Spencer chuckled and looked down at the ground, feeling the blush creeping up on his face.

“Uhm, since I left home I felt bad that I had to leave y/n home alone, so I thought she would like to get some flowers while I would be away.” Spencer said with a blushing face.

“She’s going to love it. I’m sure of it.” Rossi said and went back inside to look further on the crime scene.

Spencer and Emily followed Rossi inside. Spencer took another look at the victim.

“Our possible unsub have used a slightly different MO but the way she was tortured was the same. He’s evolving. It’s definitely our unsub.” Spencer explained.

“Do we know what she did for a living?” Emily asked the small group.

“Not yet. I’m going to call Garcia and see what she can find out.” Spencer said as he dialed her number.

“He who seeks the Queen of All Knowledge, speaks and is recognized.” It sounded from Garcia.

“Hey Garcia I need you to check a name for me, please.” Spencer asked her.

“Ask away, genius.”

“Kendra Williams.”

“Sounds familiar. Ahh, she is - or was - a rather known and famous producer for numerous tv-shows and a few movies.”

“Can you check if she’s had a rough childhood with either sexually abuse, bullying or some form of drug abuse.”

“Already on it, pretty boy.” Garcia chuckled and typed away on her keyboard.

It has been many hours since Spencer, Emily and Rossi had arrived at the scene. They had found out that Kendra had been sexually abused by multiple strangers and had suffered from a serious drug abuse, particularly heroin but had been clean for 7 years before she got killed.

—

Back in D.C. you were enjoying your own company. The movie set you were working on had been experiencing some issues with a lot of their technology so they gave you some time off.

You decided to do some house cleaning since it’s been more than a week since the last cleaning.

It wasn’t long after you had begun when you heard a knock on the door. You put down the broom and headed towards the front door.

When you opened the door you found a large bouquet with red roses and white lilies. You were quick to notice a small card in between the flowers.

You took the flowers inside and placed them in a vase on the coffee table.

“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, A partridge in a pear tree.” You read out loud. A small giggled left your lips.

Out of nowhere your phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Uhm how’s things at home?” Spencer asked with a concerned tone in his voice.

“They are good. Just been wondering how the case was going but I can guess it’s going well?”

“It is. Uhm have you received something today?”

You smiled, knowing what he meant. “I have. It’s just what I wanted, thank you.”

“You are welcome. I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too, pretty boy.” You smiled knowing he did as well.

[sunflowerspecter]

haley (a.h.)

summary: hotch doesn’t know if it’s time to move on. then he meets you, and your daughter haley. 

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical mentions of murder, canon-typical mentions of drugs 

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 3.6k

note: hey? i’m back! with another fic! after like four months! woo. i’m also almost at 400 followers which is pretty wild so cool cool. this is absolutely unedited and i’ve been working on it for literally ever, but i doubt you expected more from me anyways (the plot is also kind of sketch) anywayss, here it is my loves! 

~~~oOo~~~

“JJ!” you yell, crossing the bullpen quickly. She turns to face you and smiles widely, throwing her arms open. 

“Y/n!” she calls as you fall into her arms. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?” 

“My team’s going to be working with your team for the next couple of cases!” As the communications liaison for Operations Support Branch (OSB), you and JJ used to collaborate often, until she was transferred and changed positions. You and her don’t get to see each other half as often as you want, but sometimes you bring your daughter, Haley, to spend time with Henry. 

“Wait, really? Why weren’t we alerted?” she asks. Behind her, a tall man with dark hair steps towards you, and you already know who he is. SSA Aaron Hotchner. 

“Because the decision was just made this morning,” he says. He offers his hand and you shake it. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner.” 

“We all call him Hotch,” JJ adds quickly. 

“Y/n Y/l/n,” you say to him. “I’m the communications liaison for the OSB. I’m the only one here right now, my team is heading up as we speak.” You turn to the elevator, where your boss, Sam Holmestead, is standing, talking to Derek Morgan, someone JJ had introduced you to. “Holmes is over there.” 

“Great,” Hotch says, “excuse me.” He nods at you and begins his way over to your boss, and you watch the entire way. 

“Ooh,” JJ sings, giving you a friendly laugh. 

“Oh, shut up,” you say, but you’re laughing too. “Now, I heard there’s a case.” 

She nods. “Come up to the conference room, we’ll introduce your team to my team and give you all of the details.” 

In the room, you, Holmes, and the two others from your team that were joining you— Gary Long and John Wilson— stand at the back, while the BAU all gathered in their seats. 

“These four are from the OSB,” Hotch says. “Strauss wants our team to collaborate with some members of the OSB on the next few cases, so they’ll be travelling with us,” Hotch says. “JJ, want to make introductions?” 

She nods, then says, “Sam Holmestead leads the team, and this is Y/n Y/l/n, Gary Long, and John Wilson.” She turns to her team, then, and says, “This is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, and David Rossi.” 

Greetings are exchanged, and then it’s back to business. “Two young women were kidnapped and then killed in Tallahassee, Florida,” Garcia says. “Each one was taken from a parking lot, then held captive for a week, and then killed. A week after the first girl was killed, the second one went missing. She was found dead yesterday. Other than their throats being slashed, they were otherwise unharmed.” 

You blink down at the pictures. You’ve seen things before, awful things, but this was just… so much worse. You feel better about your squeamishness when you look over and see that Wilson is as white as a ghost. 

“So, what does this guy get from the kill?” Morgan says, one elbow on the table. 

“It’s rather clean, as far as murder goes,” Prentiss quips. “No stabbing, no bruising. Even the cut is clean.” 

“How long did it take her to die? This could be seen as merciful,” you say, glancing at Holmes, who nods at you. 

“I’m guessing just a few seconds,” Reid said, looking through his file and finding the coroner’s report, then nodding and glancing up at you. 

“Garcia, do these girls have anything in common?” Hotch asks, and your attention goes straight to him (because he’s talking, and you’re polite, obviously). 

“They both attended Florida state and now work in insurance. Different companies,” Garcia says. 

Hotch nods at her, then says, “Wheels up in 30.” 

~~~oOo~~~

The jet is larger than you expected. And nicer, too. You take a seat between JJ and Morgan, and see Garcia on Skype on the table. The rest of the group files in, and you begin discussing the case. 

“So, what’s this guy's deal? What’s he doing with these girls for a week?” Morgan says. 

“There aren’t signs that they’re tied up, or that he blitz-attacked them,” Prentiss adds. 

“Maybe he kept them locked in a sort of cellar. He wouldn’t need to tie them up.” 

“Did he drug them?” Holmes asks. Reid looks over the report, then nods. 

“Actually, yes, both girls had methylenedioxy​methamphetamine and methamphetamine in their system,” Reid says. 

“MDMA and meth?” JJ says, crossing her arms. 

“Wilson, you still have contacts in Florida, right? See who’s dealing both of those these days,” Holmes says, and Wilson nods, pulling out his phone. 

“MDMA is really hard to get a hold of,” Wilson says, “I’m sure it’s easier in Florida, but still, this guy has to have some way of getting money in. Lots of it.” 

“Okay, so how does he insure he doesn’t hurt them with the drugs?” Prentiss says. 

“And what purpose does it serve? What fantasy is he living out?” Rossi adds. 

The plane hits a bit of turbulence, and your stomach flips. “Is that normal?” you whisper, and JJ laughs, nodding.

“You’ll get used to it,” Morgan says. You nod and give a short laugh. 

“The likelihood of being in a plane crash is about one to 5.4 million,” Reid says, “and even so, it’s improbable that turbulence will cause a crash. Even commercial airlines are built to withstand forces 1.5 times stronger than anything experienced in the past—” 

“Reid,” Hotch says sternly, but softly, “focus, please.” 

“I didn’t know the BAU made cyborgs,” you say, squinting your eyes at Reid. 

Prentiss nods at you, throwing her arms up. “That’s what I’ve been saying! Someone finally understands.” 

“Sorry,” he says, eyes widening. “I’m curious as to whether these girls were using these drugs before or after he took them.” 

“You think they were using before?” Hotch asks, and Reid nods. 

“I just don’t know why he would give the girls these drugs.” 

“I’ll ask the families,” JJ says. 

“When we land, Reid, start setting up a geographical profile. Prentiss and Morgan, check out the dump sights. JJ, talk to the families, and make sure the press doesn’t get the information about the drugs. Rossi, take Long and go check out the abduction sights. Wilson, reach out to your contact. I want Y/l/n and Holmestead to help me with victimology,” Hotch says, looking around. 

“Yes, sir’s” went around the group, and you flip to look at the victim pages. 

Holmes leans across the table and looks at you. “What do you think?” 

You shake your head. “It’s strange,” you say. “They hardly have anything in common. Yeah, they went to the same school, and yeah, they both work in insurance, but two very different jobs.” 

Holmes shrugs, then nods. “I agree. Were they friends?” He looks at Hotch for guidance, who shrugs. 

“We’ll have to find out. Garcia, have you made any connections?” 

Garcia looks up on the screen, then says, “Actually, another girl has just been reported missing.” 

“It’s only been a day,” JJ says, and looks at Hotch. 

“We hit the ground running,” he says, and you all nod. 

~~~oOo~~~

Working with the team goes a lot smoother than expected. Your teams bond together instantly, and you all work quickly and effectively. 

Unfortunately, even a day and a half after the third victim's abduction, you’re no closer. 

“In his comfort zone, there are 14 warehouses, 13 abandoned buildings, 25 apartment complexes, and too many residential areas to count,” you say, looking over Reid’s shoulder as he writes on the board. 

“He could be anywhere,” Hotch mutters, standing beside you. 

“What are we missing?” Rossi says, and you turn and slump into a chair, sitting at the table with the team. Hotch sits next to you, a pensive look on his face. 

“How did he choose each girl? Are these premeditated or spur of the moment? And why did he escalate his time frame?” Morgan says, looking around the table. 

JJ rushes into the room. “The third girl's body was found. And he left a note.” 

The table stands. “Reid and Y/l/n, stay here and analyze the note. JJ, keep the press occupied. No one releases the note. We don’t address it yet. Everyone else, at the crime scene.” 

You nod, finding it a little odd that he left you with Reid (sure, you aren’t a field agent, but the rest of your team is going somewhere), but you stay nonetheless. The team files out and you turn to Reid, looking down at the scan of the note. 

“The paper looks old,” Reid says, and you squint. 

“It’s not old, it was made to look that way. See how it’s not torn or wrinkled, but it’s yellowed?” 

Reid nods and looks at you, for a moment, surprised. It passes quickly, and he’s looking back at the text. “Typewriter, and it’s in third person. It just describes the crime.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, and Reid shrugs. 

“It could mean any number of things. Could be living out his fantasy, could be any number of mental illnesses.” 

You nod, crossing your arms. It’s going to be a long night. 

~~~oOo~~~

The fourth girl was taken in the wide open. There was a witness. With a description of the vehicle. 

“There are more purple Volkswagens in Tallahassee than there should be,” Garcia says, “but only one registered to someone within the comfort zone of our guy.” 

He doesn’t know you’re coming, and the arrest is smooth, and the girl is safe. 

The plane ride back is quiet—everyone is mostly asleep. You sit by Holmes, talking idly about how the court is probably going to rule on the case. Hotch is awake and across from you, but you can tell he’s listening. 

“How’s the little one?” Holmes says, and you laugh. 

“As rebellious as ever,” you sigh. “She wants to be a superhero when she’s older.” 

Holmes laughs, leaning back in his seat and pushing his hand through his hair. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t have kids.” 

You elbow him. “Like you could get someone to reproduce with you, anyway.” 

He gasps, grasping his chest, feigning pain. “Low blow, Y/n, low blow.” 

“Whatever, old man,” you say, leaning back. “How long are we working with the BAU?” you ask, glancing over your sleeping teammates. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he says. Then he lowers his voice and whispers in your ear, “You’ve caught the BAU’s dear boss’s eye, I think.” 

You giggle (you giggle) and say, “No way.” 

“Yes way.” 

“I guess he’s cute,” you say in a whisper. “But that’s a conversation for the morning. I’m exhausted.” 

You look over at Hotch, writing his report and talking quietly with Rossi. You wonder what’s going through his mind. 

“You know she wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life mourning her,” Rossi says quietly. Hotch nods. 

“I know that, I do. I just, I wish there was a sign.” 

Rossi puts his hand on his friend's shoulder. “There will be.” He looks over at you, eyes shut, head on Holmes’ shoulder. “Meanwhile, you’ve been looking at her quite a lot.” 

“What?” Hotch says, taking in a shaky breath. 

Rossi chuckles, shrugging. “I think you know.” 

~~~oOo~~~

“Hey, sleep today, but tonight you should come out with us,” Garcia says as you gather your things from your makeshift desk. You landed at 4:30 in the morning, and after finishing your paperwork, you were ready to sleep for the entire day. 

You hesitate, then shrug. “Sure, why not?” 

Garcia squeals, “Yay!” You laugh and nod. 

“What time, and where?” 

“How about I pick you up?” she suggests, and you nod. 

“Actually, that would be great,” you say. She smiles, and leaves you in your office. Your daughter calls you as you're leaving the building, and you meet Hotch in the elevator. 

“Mommy!” the little girl cries happily into the phone. 

“Hi, hon! I’m on my way home right now, what are you doing up this early, baby?” 

She giggles. “Auntie and I have a surprise for you!” 

You freeze. “Haley, what did you do?” You feel Hotch stiffen beside you, but you don’t ask him about it. 

“Nothing! Bye, mommy!” she says before you can tell her no, and she’s hung up. 

“Children,” you mutter. Hotch nods. 

“What’s your kids name?” he asks, barely looking at you. 

“Haley,” you say. “She’s four next month.” He hums, and you ask, “Do you have any children?” 

“Yes,” he says. “Jack. He’s seven.” 

The elevator door opens, and you almost think you’re disappointed. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks, and you nod. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

The walk is silent. 

“See you tonight?” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Probably not.” 

“Why not? Could be fun.” 

He hesitates, meeting your eyes. Then, he says, “I’ll think about it.” 

You smile, getting into your car. “Have a good one, Hotchner.” 

“You too, Y/l/n.” 

~~~oOo~~~

Haley is asleep by 8:00, your sitter is at your door by 8:15, and Garcia is at your door at 8:30. 

Black dress, red lipstick. It isn’t too fancy, but if Hotch shows up, you’ll look nice. (Not that you care, of course. As far as you know, he’s married). 

“You look so pretty!” Garcia says once you’re in her car. 

“Thank you! You too!” you say, and then she starts telling you stories from the team. How Reid will go off about Halloween, how Prentiss faked her death, how Morgan and her flirt endlessly (which you picked up on), how Hotch’s son, Jack, is doing soccer. 

You, in turn, tell Garcia about Wilson’s wife, Mary, and how Holmes once fell down a well while working on a case and was stuck for an hour and a half, and how Greg has this terrible habit of accidentally befriending the worst people. 

You reach the bar laughing, and you find the table everyone (except Hotch) is sitting at. You and Garcia join them, and conversation becomes easy. Until, a few minutes after your arrival, Hotch takes a seat beside you. 

“Hi,” he says, and everyone greets him. 

“We were just talking about how we could run off and buy a house in the woods and live a secluded life together for the rest of time,” Prentiss says, and you let out a laugh. 

“I’m sure that will work out wonderfully, especially with three children,” Hotch says. 

“And the house has to be big, there’s a lot of us,” you add. 

“And we work for the government, they’ll be suspicious if we all quit at once,” Greg says. 

Spencer shrugs. “Not to mention the cost of living would be expensive, and we’d be out of a job. Plus, there’s no one to replace us.”

You lean over and boop Spencer’s nose. “We’re irreplaceable.” 

“Don’t count on that, Strauss has been after my ass since the moment I stepped in that office,” Hotch says. 

Rossi mutters something into Hotch’s ear, and your stomach does backflips. JJ turns to you. “Is Haley still into dance?” 

You shake your head. “That was a short lived hobby. I think this week it’s art.” 

“Henry is the same way! He doesn’t stick with one thing for more than a few days,” she laughs. “Hotch, what about Jack?” 

“He’s stuck with soccer pretty consistently, but he also can’t decide if he likes drums or drawing on the wall more.” 

You and JJ laugh. “Where’s Will?” you ask JJ, raising an eyebrow.

“He stayed home with Henry, but he sends his love.” JJ looks over at Hotch. “I presume Jack is with Jessica?” 

“Yes,” he says, huffing a laugh, his eyes darting to yours. “I really should be paying that woman.” 

“Is Jessica not your wife?” you ask, glancing from JJ to Hotch. They share a look, and JJ turns to Spencer, picking up on his and Emily’s conversation. Your attention is now fully on Hotch, who sighs. 

“No, Jessica is my sister-in-law,” he says, and he opens his mouth to say more, but then hesitates. “My wife died a few years ago. Her name was Haley.” 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “Oh, oh I’m so sorry.” You meet his eyes, but he shakes his head. “My husband died a few years ago too. Right before Haley was born, actually,” you say, laughing humorlessly.

He nudges your shoulder lightly, then says, “Look at us, two widowed single-parents.” 

“A pair we make, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, and he nods. 

~~~oOo~~~

As you’re leaving the conference room after a briefing, Holmes pulls you aside. He watches as everyone leaves the room, and says, “This will be our last case with the BAU.” You blink at him, disappointment filling you. 

“Why are you telling just me?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

Holmes shrugs, looking out the conference room window. You follow his gaze to where Hotch and Morgan are talking in front of Hotch’s office. “Because you might want to shoot your shot before you never see him again,” Holmes says. You try to ask him what he means, but he’s already left the room.

You sigh, picking up your things and getting your bag, going to stand beside JJ and Emily as you make your way out to the jet. You trail a step behind them, your mind racing. What did Holmes mean by that? Your heart dropped a little bit at the thought of never seeing the team you had been working with for the past six months ever again. Surely, you will. JJ and you are close friends, and you had grown close with the rest of the team too, right? 

“What’s on your mind?” You startle at the sound of his voice, looking up to see Hotch looking down at you, his brows drawn together. 

“Oh,” you say. “Nothing.” 

“You can’t lie to a profiler.” 

You laugh. “Holmes told me this is our last case together,” you tell him, looking ahead, where JJ and Emily are boarding the plane. 

“It is,” he says. His voice is even, steady, normal. There is nothing to suggest he is happy for your departure or upset about it. He is neutral. 

“Shame,” you say, “I was sort of getting used to working with you guys.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you board the plane. You sit in your usual seat and he sits beside you; that’s how it always is. It feels wrong, today. 

“It’s not like we’re just going to disappear, though,” Hotch says to you, just so you can hear. “You know where I work after all.” You huff a laugh, your heart rate increasing more than you’d care to admit. “On top of that, we have no idea how long this case will last. Maybe it goes horribly wrong and you’re stuck with me forever.” 

“We better solve it quickly, then,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him. He scoffs, and you shake your head. “But, really. I’ll miss working with you.” After a second, your eyes widen and you add, “All.” 

He nods, shifting in his seat. “I’ll regret no longer having your team’s expertise.” 

“Our teams are good together, for sure.” 

~~~oOo~~~ 

After the case, you try not to look too blue as you step onto the jet for the last time. You and Holmes are the first ones on the jet, and when you sit across from him instead of your usual spot, he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Do you know where we’re going next? What our next assignment is?” you ask. He shakes his head, and you look down at your hands. 

“We won’t be travelling with the BAU,” he says, “but we will be working at headquarters for the meantime.” 

“That’s going to be an adjustment,” you say, looking over at him. “Watching the team leave, not going with them.”

He nods. “But at least you’ll get to see him.” 

“You mean them,” you say, furrowing your brow. “The team.” 

As the words leave your mouth, Hotch walks on board. He nods at the two of you, his facial expression blank. He sits in his usual spot. He looks small. 

“No, I said what I meant,” Holmes said, shrugging. “Maybe you just didn’t want to hear it.” 

You don’t reply, looking over to where Hotch is sitting. You look to Holmes for permission, and he nods at you. You make your way over to Hotch, sitting next to him. 

“Hi,” you say quietly. 

“Hi,” he says back. 

A beat. 

“So—” you both say at the exact same time. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You go first,” he says. 

“I’m going to miss you. The whole team,” you add, “but especially you.” 

He flushes, giving a sort of smile as he shifts in his seat, nodding to you. “I’m going to miss you too.” You hold your breath, and he says, “But I figured, you know, there’s not really any reason we can’t still see each other. After this. We could get coffee sometime.” 

You grin, bumping your shoulder against his. “Are you asking me out, Hotchner?” you whisper quietly, jokingly. 

“Maybe,” he says, looking uncharacteristically unsure. “If you say yes.” 

“Well,” you say, looking up and tapping your chin. You meet his eyes, and he’s staring at you like your next words are the most important thing in the world, “I would be an idiot if I said no.” 

He smiles, big and wide like you’ve never seen and it goes straight to his eyes. “Then it’s a date.” 

“Then it is,” you say, smiling right back at him. 

taglist; let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

@quillvine @winterscaptain @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses

hehe thanks for reading xx

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Three: “Your Obedient Servant”

“You’ve kept me from the room where it happens for the last time.”

Word count: ~2450 words

Warnings: Shitty parent, verbal abuse from mother, language, bullying, brief mention of alcohol, mention of guns, implied murder, typical Criminal Minds-esque details towards the murder but nothing graphic.

Characters mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Aaron Hotchner

Original characters: Reader’s mother and father, Este and her family, Lara, Andrew Walker, and Abby. 

Mentions of: David Rossi, Erin Strauss, and Penelope Garcia

A/N: And here we are! Chapter three! I think I have marked all warnings but if there are any I’ve missed, please feel free to let me know! As always, feedback is always appreciated. This chapter is kind of background of reader focused and I’m so sorry for that. I hope y’all can enjoy anyways and enjoy the turn made towards bringing everyone in. Next chapter will fully bring the team in and I’m excited! That’s enough out of me, enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Eight years old…

“What in fresh hell are you doing?” A voice came from your doorway, one that belonged to your mother. You didn’t look up from where you laid on the floor, a colored pencil in your hand and a coloring book was spread out in front of you. Your room was illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table, it being well past your bedtime.

“Coloring. Couldn’t sleep.” Footsteps got louder as your mother approached and you flinched as she snatched the book up.

“What time is your bedtime?”

“Eight-thirty.” She cleared her throat. “Ma’am.”

“And it’s midnight. So your ass should be where?”

“But I wasn’t making any noise.” Your eyes met your mother’s and her harsh glare made you look back down. “In bed.”

“That’s right.” She grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, and you tried not to wince. “If I come check on you and catch you out of this bed again, you’re gonna be in so much trouble, kid.”

“But what if I can’t sleep?” You asked as you climbed back into your bed.

“You’ll fall asleep eventually.” Your mother turned off your lamp, the warm glow of the room now being replaced by total darkness. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Your mother walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You listened for a minute to make sure she was really in bed before you pulled your stuffed animal to your chest and screwed your eyes shut.

“Unfortunately.”

Sixteen years old…

“Happy birthday, kiddo. The big sixteen.” You smiled as you held your phone, sat on the bench outside of school as you waited for your mom to pick you up. Your dad was on the other end of the phone, and you had to admit you missed him. “Still up for your visit this weekend?”

“Are you? You pulled a Mom and bailed on me last time.” Your words could sound harsh to anyone passing by, but there was no malice behind them, just a teasing smile. And you could practically hear your dad rolling his eyes.

“Brat.”

“Yours truly.”

“I promise, nothing will stop me from seeing you this weekend. It’s not every day your only child turns sixteen.” A sigh from the other end makes your heart clench. “I miss you, kid.”

“I miss you too, Dad. I can’t wait to see you.” “Ditto.” Muffled voices were heard in the background before your dad spoke again. “I have to go, but I expect to hear all about your birthday extravaganza Saturday.”

“You mean my trip to the bookstore with Este and dinner with her family? Mom’s too busy with her new fu-”

“Uh uh. It may be true, but don’t finish that sentence.” You could hear the smile in your dad’s voice, mixed with irritation. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, Dad. See you Saturday.”

“See you then.” You hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket, opening the book that sat in your lap to read as you waited for your mom to pick you up from school.

You were delved deep into your book, the sound of the athletes practicing in the nearby fields fading into silence as you let yourself become entranced in your book. You didn’t notice the looming shadow of Lara standing over you.

“Well, thanks, Y/L/N! I’ve been looking for a new book.” You jumped when you heard her voice. She snatched the book from your hands and you reached for it, but she was quicker.

“Give it back!”

“Really? David Rossi?” Lara scoffed and tossed the book over her shoulder where it landed in a pile of mud by the sidewalk we were on. “Whoops.” Lara walked past you, her shoulder knocking harshly into yours. “It’s too easy with them.” Lara said to herself and you ran to your book, and your eyes watered as you knelt down to pick it up, the book being covered in mud.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” You whispered to yourself as you held the book and tried your best to wipe the mud off it. You sighed in resignation and walked to the trash can a few feet away and set the book in. You were going to the bookstore tomorrow, you could replace it then.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a car honked and you looked up, noticing your mother’s car. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.” Your mother yelled from the open window and you nodded.

“Coming.” You called out and jogged over to the car, throwing your backpack into the backseat before you got into the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” She gestured to your red eyes before she noticed your dirty hands. “Gross, how old are you?” She slapped the back of your head and you digged for napkins in the glove compartment while apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m sorry. Lara threw my book in the mud and I tried to save it.”

“Those were weird books anyways. She did you a favor.”

Twenty-two years old…

“Look at our college graduate, Jess.” Este’s father, Phil, smiled from the head of the table. “Look out, world, you’re not prepared.”

“I will not be taking over the world until Y/N is. They still have one year to finish their master’s degree. So I’m taking a gap year. Maybe I’ll go husband hunting.”

“Or, you know, do something that’ll look better on your job applications.” Este’s sister deadpanned.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You nudged Este with your foot and gave her a playful warning look. Este stuck her tongue out at you and you mirrored her expression.

“I wish Y/N would have majored in the same thing as you, Este.” Not even fifteen words out of your mother and the whole atmosphere was brought down. Why couldn’t she be with Joe? Jonah? J-something. “Instead of aiming for the FBI, where you’re not even guaranteed a job.”

“Which is why I majored in criminology. Minored in digital forensics. And I’m earning my masters in forensic psychology.” You responded, not sparing her a glance.

“And if you still don’t-”

“I think my credentials will be impressive regardless.” You paused as the waitress stopped by, setting everyone’s plates down. You thanked her as she left, before looking at your mother. “Even if I don’t immediately get offered a job, I don’t mind. I can work my way to the FBI. I don’t get bored of something within a month.” Bella’s eyes widened and Este smirked to herself as she took a sip of her drink.

“I would sure hope not! College would have been a bad idea if you couldn’t work at something for a month.” Jessica, Este’s mother, tried to joke but your mother was relentless.

“I hope you fix your personality before you apply or they’ll never let you in through the door.”

“You don’t like it? I learned from you.” Your mother stood from her chair, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“I’m done.”

“Drive safe.” You called out to your mother’s retreating form and rolled your eyes as you turned to Este. “Drinks?”

“Drinks.”

Twenty-five years old…

“So, you’re about halfway done with your training at the Academy.” You sat across from your field counselor, Abby. “How have things been?”

“Andrew and I had some… creative differences with firearms training.”

“Creative differences?” Abby asked and you thought back to the day.

You had missed the vital shots multiple times, and you and Andrew both were getting irritated at each other. What was meant to be motivating turned snarky, which had started to turn condescending. You started off getting close to your vitals, and with each negative comment, your concentration turned to frustration which led to further off shots.

“If you could make these three shots so I can leave, that would be great. Come on, how are you going to ace rifle training but not handgun? I might as well talk to our program director and tell her your future in the Academy and FBI is a deadend. But if she ever needs a sharp-shooter…” And something snapped inside you, and you shot the five targets in front of you perfectly. Alternating between head and chest shots, straight in the middle. Bullseyes. You turned to face Andrew, walked towards him and set your gun in his hand.

“You may leave now.” You walked towards the doors of the firing range and called out. “See you tomorrow.”

“I see.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face as she spoke. “You know you can’t let people get to you like he did. It may have benefitted you this time, but there will come a time where you’ll reach your breaking point and lose your temper at your superior and risk your job.”

“You know about my parents, it’s kind of genetic.” You sighed. “But I will work on it. I know I need to.”

“Good. And I’ll have a word with Andrew about his motivational methods.” You let out a laugh before your session continued.

Thirty-one years old…

You sat in Hotch’s office and your body language screamed ‘angry.’ Your arms were crossed over your chest, your foot tapped against the floor, and if that wasn’t enough, the saying if looks could kill truly applied to you right now. If looks could kill, Aaron Hotchner would be a pile of dust in his chair. But like usual, Hotch’s body language was as usual. Professional, stoic, cold. He’d warmed up to the rest of the team, surprising you that he wasn’t truly emotionless after all. But that persona never came out around you. All that came out was indifference at best. Disapproval at worst, often paired with anger. Disappointment. That’s all you’d ever be, huh?

You had been called to Hotch’s office after you got back from your latest case. You’d never seen Hotch as mad as he was then. To anyone else, it might seem like he got mad because he cared about you and your wellbeing. But that was not the case today. You didn’t follow his orders, and now you were to pay the consequences.

“I am slow to anger, but I toe the line as I think about the effects of your choices on the team. I look back on where we failed, but in every place I checked, the only common thread?”

“Let me guess, me?” You interrupted.

“Your disrespect.” Hotch narrowed his eyes at you.

“You call me inexperienced, a danger to the team.” You leaned forward as you began to speak.

“Agent, if you’ve got something to say-” You raised your hand, cutting him off.

“Name a time and place, face to face. Then we can really talk.” You rested your hands on his desk, matching the expression he was giving you.

“That is enough, Agent Y/L/N.” Hotch spoke after a minute of your stare-down, and you settled back into your seat.

“I’m just an agent, trying to do my best for our team. I don’t want to fight but I won’t apologize for doing what I believe was right.”

“Careful, Y/N, or it’ll be the end of your career at the BAU. Not mine.”

“I won’t apologize for my actions, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You shrugged.

“Then be prepared to meet with me and Strauss tomorrow morning to discuss your placement on this team.” Hotch leaned back in his chair.

“Are you fucking serious? Every agent on this team has gone against orders. Even you have given the middle finger to direct orders several times. I make one call that goes against your orders, one that allows us to save the hostage and take in the unsub, and now you’re threatening my career?” You scoffed and looked your boss in the eyes as you stood up. “Unbelievable.”

“Nine sharp, agent.” Hotch kept eye contact with you as he spoke.

“Oh, I have the honor to be your obedient servant, sir.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as you left.

Today…

You sat outside Andrew Walter’s house, lying in wait. Andrew lived in Baltimore now, having quit his job to work at a local FBI field office. You think a federal agent would have been more private about his life; it didn’t take Penelope Garcia to figure out where he worked. Where he lived. You had been waiting for the perfect moment to revisit him, and now you had it. Now was all waiting for the window of opportunity to hit. The window to open just enough for you to seize your chance and show him what all you had become since you graduated from the Academy.

The last light flickered off in his home and you looked down the street. No cars moving, no sounds of laughter or conversations could be heard from your spot. It was almost eerily silent, but there was a rush of an unknown emotion flooding through you. You tucked your gun into your waistband, snapping your gloves into place, and adjusting your hood over your hat. You got out of your car and walked up to the house, a smirk on your face.

---

“Come in.” Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, JJ standing in his doorway.

“I know we don’t typically take cases only involving one person.” JJ said as she walked over to Hotch’s desk. “The detective thinks there is a possibility it could be related to the Fairfax murder.”

“And do you?” Hotch held his hand out for the file and JJ set it in his hand before taking a seat.

“The possibility is there, but the similarities are basic. Both victims were men who died by gunshots. But our Fairfax victim was married, this guy is single. And in Baltimore. There’s a bit of distance between the two cities, but definitely a doable drive.”

“We’ve seen further.” Hotch opened the file and his brows furrowed. “And he died by gunshot?”

“There was some blunt force trauma involved, but the M.E. says the cause of death was the gunshot wound. All the other injuries were sustained antemortem.”

“Personal?”

“Or was our unsub physically incapable of subduing him before injuring him?” A beat of silence.

“Everyone else is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We have a case.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax @catherine-nelson @reids-mismatchedsocks @lieswithoutfairytales @devilswaldorf @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sassiest-politician @yoshigguk @httpeacewitch @feedthemadness-sweetie 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[inagetawaycarxo]

Mind Games | Spencer Reid

❛❛ Omg Spencer and hot custome reader basically they are at halloween party and the lights go out and there is a usub is trying to play mind game with the guess and the team. Like exposing people such as the tragedies that has happened in their life ( can I request a really bad tragedy for the reader) also for people to confess their feelings .In this, spencer and the reader are married, so someone else confess their feelings for either spencer or the reader (doesn’t have to be someone on the team) Anyways, The team has to figure out who it is by the end of the night so before the unsub killed them, (you know how those scary movies are that the usub plays mind games that torture them?) Lol idk what I just said but is basically that, if you can and want. Thank you❜❜- LalyMendoza9 + ❛❛ Confessing things that the team doesn’t know, like lies, betrays, making the reader, spencer and people jealous. The confessions doesn’t even need to be true because is mind games manipulation❜❜- LalyMendoza9

 Pairings: Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader

Featuring: Spencer Reid, Y/n (Reader), JJ, Emily, Tara, Garcia, David Rossi, Luke Alvez, other agents, f/n (friends name)

Summary: A Halloween party turns into a nightmare. Can the bau find out who the unsub is?

WARNINGS: violence, fluff, angst, mind games, suppose betrayal, hurt!reader, injured!reader, idk.

Word Count: 1967

A/N: I haven’t watched cm for a long time. I decided to make the unsub y/n’s friend.

Spencer clutched your hand tightly as soon as the power shut off. leaving the bau office in complete darkness.

Spencer pulled you closer to him. As some agents and their significant others panicked. Some screaming, others having panic attacks.

“It’s going to be okay.” Spencer reassured you. as you nodded your head. Taking out your phone and turning your torch on.

Looking for your friend. Everyone else in the room either took out their phones, turning them on or the torch app, or took out lighters.

“I’m glad I’ve got all of your attention. It’s time for a little game. Time to expose all of you for the corrupt agents you are.” A distorted voice spoke, through a speaker. Everyone let out a panicked gasp or scream. While you clung onto Spencer's arm. Getting worried about your friend.

The distorted voice spoke again. This time exposing some agents past. You didn’t listen to it. To busy focusing on finding your friend.

“I can’t see f/n anywhere.” You spoke. Looking at Spencer with a concerned expression.

“Maybe, he is in the bathroom.” Spencer responded. Giving you a reassuring smile. You smiled back at him. But your mind still wasn’t at ease.

“I think, I should go look for him. Make sure he is okay.” You spoke. Letting go of Spencer. Spencer panicked. Grabbing a hold of your wrist. Giving you a pleading look. Furrowing his eyebrows.

“Don’t go, it’s dangerous.” Spencer pleaded.

Just as you were about to respond. The distorted voice said your name. making the hairs on your body stand up. Your skin crawling. Your spin tingling.

“Y/n Reid, have you told your husband what happened to you in your past? Or have you pretended like it never happened, bottle it up. It’s not healthy you know. Or do you feel like you are being a burden if you do tell him? So, you sweep it under the rug, as JJ does with her feelings for Spencer. Don’t you JJ.” The distorted voice spoke. JJ looked shocked. Shuttering on her words. While you felt like a weight was pressing against you. shallowing rapidly, as your throat felt like it was closing in. tears pricking your eyes. JJ looked away from you. Avoiding your gaze. A feeling of jealousy sparking up inside of you.

Spencer cupped the side of your face. Giving you a pleading look.

“He is just trying to get inside your head. Don’t listen to him.” Spencer reassured you. But you looked away. What they said got to you. she didn’t even deny it either.

“I have to go find, f/n. You should figure out who the unsub is before he gets bored with minds games and manipulation and starts killing people.” You spoke. Avoiding his gaze and shaking him off of you.

You quickly walked away from him and out of the room. Searching for your friend.

“F/n.” You called out. But got no response.

You were about to call out for him again but stopped yourself when you heard the distorted voice coming from a room near you. you quickly went over it peeping inside to see your friend talking into a com. You let out a loud gasp. Eyes widening fear, as he raised his head. Cupping your hands over your mouth and ducking behind the door. Your back pressed against the wall. As he turned around. Walking to the door. You slowly slid away from the door.

The door opened. Making you suck in a breath.

“Y/n.” f/n spoke. Giving you a fake smile.

“Hey, f/n, there you are.” You greeted him mustering up a smile. F/n’s fake smile dropped into a snarl. You gulped as he stalked towards you. While you backed away. But it was no use he pinned you against the wall.

“You saw me, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Saw what?” You gulped out. Playing it cool. You sneakily reached your hand into your back pocket. But f/n saw this and grabbed your wrist roughly pulling it away.

“Don’t lie, y/n, it’s unattractive.” He hissed out.

“F/n, please.” You begged him. Looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Sh, soon you will understand.” He cooed. You felt something prick your side. Making you look down to your side. Letting out a panicked gasp, as you saw a needle in you. F/n pushed the plunger into the barrel. The liquid in the barrel going to you.

“No, please.” You gasped out. Trying to push him off of you but to no avail.

“Sh...” He cooed. As the drugs took effect on you. you slumped in his grasp.

F/n smiled. Discarding the needle. Then looking around to see if the coast is clear. He picked you up. Taking you into the bathroom he was in. gently laying you on the floor. He quickly put zip ties on your hands and ankles. Binding them together.

“You’ll see, y/n. they aren’t worth your time.” F/n hummed. Stroking your hair. Taking your phone off of you and breaking it….

The team stood around the table. Garcia sitting down on the chair, her laptop on the table. While Rossi was looking out at the window. Eyes narrowed.

Spencer tried to call you again, but it went straight to voicemail.

“She’s still not picking up?” JJ asked.

“No.” Spencer mumbled. A sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

“Focus, Spencer, I’m sure she is okay.” Emily spoke.

“He obviously gets his kicks off of playing mind games and manipulating people.” Rossi spoke. Still not looking away from the window.

Emily opened her mouth to say something, but the distorted voice spoke again.

“Times running up. I’m going to start killing you one by one.” The distorted voice spoke. He was about to say more when a gasp stopped him. Gaining everyone’s attention in the room.

“He has someone already.” Emily spoke. Eyes widening.

F/n turned off the com. Well, he thought he did, but he really didn’t. Putting it down on the vanity. Turning around and walking over to you.

 “Why are you doing this?” You asked him. Giving him a sad look. The team looked at each other in panic. While Spencer felt like the walls were caving in on him.

“Don’t you get it, y/n?” He snapped. Looking at you with fury in his eyes.

“No, I don’t.” You gasped out.

“I love you, and you still choose him. I was there for you when you had that incident, he wasn’t, you haven’t even told him, and yet you still married him. He has you blinded. He and his whole team are corrupt.” He yelled.

“Please, just stop this.” You begged. Tears finning up your eyes. Your eyes suddenly wandered to a blinking red light.

“Oh, no, these people need to learn… What are you looking at?” He spoke. Eyes wandering over to what you were looking at.

“Just your confession to go to jail.”  You spoke. F/n saw a red-light blinking. Making him let out a growl.

He quickly grabbed a fistful of your hair. Yanking it up. Making you let out a whimper.

”I’m not going to jail, just so he can have you, if I can't have you then he cant.” He snarled out. Pulling out a gun and pressing the muzzle of the gun into your stomach.

“No.” You pleaded. But f/n didn’t listen to you, he pulled the trigger. You let out a blood-curdling scream. Feeling an intense amount of pain in your stomach. Spencer felt like he was going to collapse. He had to go save you.

JJ tried to comfort him, but he shook her off. Without a second thought, he rushed out of the room. Searching for you, pushing other agents aside. it wasn’t hard to find you, he could hear you crying out in pain. It broke his heart even more. F/n kept telling you to shut up.

Spencer rushed into the room making f/n lookup.

“Put the gun down.” Spencer commanded. But f/n glared at him. Shaking his head no. Pointing his gun at Spencer.

Spencer's eyes glanced towards you. His heartbreaking some more.

“Put down the gun, f/n I won't ask you again.” Spencer demanded.

“No.” F/n growled. Shaking his head from side to side. Spencer quickly tackled f/n to the ground. Both of them struggling for dominance.

Yanking the gun out of his hands and pointing it at his shoulder. Spencer pulled the trigger. Shooting f/n’s shoulder.

Spencer went over to you. picking you up bridal style and walking out of the door. Bumping into Emily, Tara, JJ, Luke and Rossi.

“He is in there. I am going to take y/n to the hospital.” Spencer spoke. Walking out of the building as best as he could.

Spencer gently put you in the passenger seat. Shutting the door. Then rushing over the driver's side. Hopping in. Putting the keys into the ignition and turning the car on. Putting the car into gear then pressing his foot on the accelerator, speeding off.

“It’s going to be okay.” He reassured you.

“I…I…Should…have…told…you. I’m sorry.” You gasped out. Eyes closing. Breathing getting swallower.

Spencer panicked. Stepping on the gas even harder.

“Stay with me. It is going to be okay.” He panicked.

“I love you.” You gasped out. Making Spencer feel like his throat was closing in on him.

Spencer felt relief as the hospital came into view. Driving into the entrance, parking in the entrance. Opening the door and rushing over to the passenger door. Opening it and taking you out. Rushing into the hospital. Leaving the car running.

“HELP! Someone, help me, my wife needs help. She’s been shot int the stomach.” Spencer pleaded.

A few nurses came over to him with a gurney. Taking you off of him and putting you on the gurney, then wheeling you off. Leaving Spencer standing there in shock. Hoping you wouldn’t die…

Spencer waited in the waiting room, for over eight hours. The rest of the team waiting with him. Trying to comfort him. Reassuring him that you are strong. That f/n is under arrest. His eyes were red and dry from crying.

“Family of Reid, Y/n Reid?” The doctor asked. Bringing Spencer out of his daydream. He stood up rushing over to the doctor.

“I’m her husband.” He spoke. The team standing up. The doctor smiled at him.

“She is stable, had a blood transfusion. You can go see her, just one at a time.” The doctor spoke. Making Spencer nod, as well as the team.

The doctor told Spencer your room number and the floor you were on. Spencer bolted off towards your room.

Breathing in deeply then out before going into the room. His hands shaking.

He opened the door. Walking in. seeing you laying there on the bed, with wires on you broke him. Spencer closed the door behind him softly. Then walked over to you. grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you. grabbing a hold of your hand. Which made your eyes flutter open.

“Hey.” Spencer cooed. Kissing your hand feverishly.

“Hi.” You whispered hoarsely.

“I am so glad you’re alive, I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you so much, and only you.” He softly spoke.

“I love you too.” You replied. Smiling at him.

“I’m sorry about f/n, I…” You apologized.

“It’s not your fault.” Spencer spoke. Giving you a reassuring smile. While you gave him a pained smile.

“I want to tell you about what happened in my past.” You spoke. Making Spencer smile.

He kissed your hand softly. Nodding his head.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He spoke softly.

“I need to.” You spoke. Spencer nodded his head.

Spencer listened intensely to what you were saying. Thumb caressing the back of your hand, as you talked…

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply. 

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started." 

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on. 

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

-

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them. 

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out." 

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

[reidgraygubler]

short skirt, high heels (spencer reid/reader)

Title: short skirt, high heels, 

Anon requested: Hi! May i please have a Spencer one shot? y/n has been part of the team for a while, she’s confident, fun and always wearing professional but slightly sexy workwear. Spencer is caught staring at y/n legs while she’s wearing a skirt. Her and Spence have a flirty friendship that leads to more?

Couple: spencer reid/fem reader

Category: spicy fluff

Content Warning: comments about sex, sex jokes, swearing, low-key sub!spencer, low-key dom!reader, mentions of drinking (but no actual drinking) 

Word Count: 2,371

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on reader since she basically started working for the BAU. It doesn’t help that reader dresses to leave a little to the imagination and is constantly flirting with him.

A/N: this is my first time writing dom(-ish)!reader… let alone sub(-ish)!spencer… so pretty please bare with me with this one… i mean, i think i did a dom(-ish)!reader... but yeah! thank you everyone for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t know why I wear such revealing clothing to work. It’s modest and professional, I just have to put that out there. But, it is on the sexier side of clothing. I suppose I do it because I like it, it makes me feel more confident. And you need a certain level of confidence to have a job at the FBI’s prestigious Behavioural Analysis Unit. 

The way people's eyes followed me felt great. I loved it. But it was always one person who caught my attention, or I caught their attention I should say. It was always the same person, and will forever be the same person. Spencer Reid’s eyes have been on me since day one, not that I’m complaining. 

I could picture it clearly how his eyes followed me from the elevator all the way to Hotchner’s office. And how red his face was when Derek called him out about. It was honestly my favorite thing in the world. I kinda felt bad about the teasing he got. But, he shouldn’t have been staring in the first place. It was my first day! I didn’t know him… Let alone did he know me.

A pile of files was sitting in one arm, while my free hand held a small briefcase. The elevator was a scratchy silvery color, and the lights from above reflected off every surface. 

My hair was pulled back in a high and curly ponytail. A tight, navy blue, pencil skirt clung to my legs, and a modest, yet very low, red blouse hung from my shoulders. I typically try to do subtle makeup for professional days, but I always look like some sort of supermodel at the end of the day. 

The doors to the elevator doors dinged open, showing me, behind a floor to ceiling window, the open offices of the BAU. Aaron Hotchner would be the man I was looking for, but their offices were so open, people were walking around, bustling because of their copious amounts of work. Can’t wait for that to be my life.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I entered the main office area. A few people were sitting and standing around one person’s desk. They were all laughing and talking to each other as the people around them worked their asses off. Their boss just lets them do this?

I furrowed my eyebrows as I walked into the office area some more. People were still rushing past me, not talking to me. I know for a fact I don’t look familiar to anyone here, and I look lost to everyone. A little help would be nice.

“Could you tell me…” I started to talk but didn’t get to finish my thought when the person just continued walking. I let out an annoyed sigh and went to stop someone else, but fail when they glared at me and kept walking. 

“Uh, Aaron Hotchner’s office?” I failed again. I threw my head back and let out a deep sigh. I didn’t realize just how busy it was today. If I had known it was so busy, I wouldn’t have come in today.

“Excuse me,” I stepped right in front of someone else and they stopped to look at me. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go. Time-sensitive thing,” they pointed at their watch before pushing past me. I bit my lower lip and shook my head again.

“Can anyone please tell me where Aaron Hotchner’s office is?!” I only half-shouted. I still gotta maintain some level of professionalism. I was just getting fed up with everyone ignoring me. Everyone around me stopped their movement and looked at me. 

The group of people at the desk all stared at me with wide eyes before pointing towards the other side of the room. I looked at everyone before looking at where they were pointing. A man wearing a black suit and a businessman haircut was standing on a small catwalk, looking at everyone in the office area. Although, he was mostly looking at me. I widened my eyes and looked down at the ground with wide eyes before walking over to him.

“Hi, you must be Aaron Hotchner,” I looked up at him before introducing myself. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” I looked back out in front of us. Everyone was back at their work, even the people at the desk. All except for one person.

A man, who was with the group around the desk, was staring at me. Not near me or at Aaron, but right at me. It was just obvious that he was staring at me. His eyes carefully lingering on my legs, or arms, or my chest for the briefest second. But never long enough on my face. Although when he did look at my face, I smiled and winked. His face grew three shades red. 

“No, no, don’t worry. I understand the hustle and bustle of this place,” Aaron laughed before turning to look at me, “Let’s step inside my office.”

So, that’s where I was work-wise. Working on the team with the BAU, with the man who stared at me and became a tomato the second I winked at him. Ah, good ole’ Spencer Reid. That boy doesn’t even know he’s infatuated with me… But I do.

I’ve had my fair share of flirts with him, and scandalous comments made about the two of us. Or, the jokes and teasing made by others. Although, our friendship always had some sort of flirtiness to it, even if he didn’t notice he was flirting with me. There was still something there. I smiled at the thought of him being so oblivious and clueless. 

Derek giving him pointers or tips was my favorite. The help was nice, honestly. But, it was the execution. It was a little sad when Derek left to be with Hank and Savannah, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself. Of course, Rossi tried but no really let Spencer listen. 

I could hear his voice now when he told Derek and David that he didn’t need tips or pointers, because ‘He doesn’t have a crush on her.’ They never really gave up on that though.

“Seems like you’ve caught someone’s attention,” Emily muttered as she looked down at the desk. I glanced over my shoulder and noted that the eyes one Spencer Reid were wandering up and down my lower half and backside. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dressing for a guy. I mean, I dress mostly for myself. But the unwanted, yet wanted, attention from one guy was excellent.

“And he says he doesn’t have a crush on me,” I looked back at Emily with a smile. She laughed as she looked at the paperwork I was signing. “Do you think he even knows he’s staring?” I spoke as I placed the pen down on the desktop.

“I don’t think he knows he likes you,” she replied, finally shuffling the papers together in a neat pile. I scoffed and shook my head. “C’mon, you know Reid. He’s got the innocence of a 1st grader when it comes to relationships and romance,” she laughed as she stood up straight.

“True, this is true,” I returned the laughter as I stood up so I was no longer leaning over my desk. “All done with paperwork?” I asked, smiling at Emily.

“For now, I hope,” she laughed as she picked up the papers. “Good luck with you know who,” she spoke in a sing-y song tone before slipping away to her office. I looked back over my shoulder and smiled when I saw that Spencer was still staring at me.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I winked once he looked up at my face. And I swear, his face changed several different shades of red as he looked at me. He went from looking normal to looking like Roma Tomato. I didn’t feel bad about my joke either. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him staring at me. “Or just close your eyes and use your robot brain to take a picture,” I smirked at him.  

“I… I wasn’t staring,” Spencer muttered as he pulled his eyes from my body to look at his own paperwork. I slowly walked away from my desk and over towards him. I leaned over so I was the same height as him. But, that also gave him a great look at my cleavage. I smirked when he struggled to not stare at my chest.

“Sure you weren’t,” I placed my hand to his cheek and smiled. For a moment he leaned more into my touch, but instantly jerked away from my hand, “It’s okay, you weren’t staring at me. I get it.” I smiled and cocked my head, “I know how I look. I’d stare too if I was you,” I pulled my hand away from his face before sitting down in his lap. Spencer held his hands up so he wasn’t touching me at all. I had to force myself not to pout. I’d be okay if he touched me in any way, innocent, not innocent… Doesn’t matter. 

“What are you doing!? There are people here! Watching!” He exclaimed once I was settled on his legs. I smiled and nodded.

“I know, I know,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck, “But, the next time I catch you staring at my ass, I’m gonna do a lot worse than sitting on your lap, Reid,” I smiled and blinked at him. He stared at me and nodded slowly, like even though he understood the words I was saying, he knew he wasn’t going to follow through with them.

It was impressive how his face got even redder. But it was crazy. I kinda liked it too. 

“Do you understand?” I whispered as I looked at him. He nodded. I smiled again before I stood up. “I’d understand if you look again, I won’t be upset. In fact, I’ll encourage it, Spence,” ” I kept smiling at him as I walked away from him. 

I returned to my desk and gathered my things before I left the office for the day. As I looked over my shoulder, Spencer was definitely staring at me, and he knew I definitely caught him. So, I smiled before winking and waving as the elevator doors shut.

{***}{***}{***}

“O’Keefes anyone?” Luke asked as we stepped off the elevator. I rolled my shoulders and looked at him with a somewhat flirtatious smile. He returned the smile and winked.

“I’m always down to go to O’Keefes with you, Lukey Poo,” I cooed as I pinched his cheek. A groan came from the back of the group, causing me to turn and look. A smile grew on my lips when my eyes landed on Spencer, who had rolled his eyes and looked away from Luke and I. “You comin’ with us, Pretty Boy? First-round on me?” I smiled at him.

“I’m definitely in if you’re buying drinks,” Jennifer looked at me before stepping ahead of Luke and I. I smiled at her before looking back at Spencer.

“Pretty please,” I half begged as I pouted my lower lip and gave my best puppy dog eyes. Spencer looked back at me, a pointed stare in his eye. I gave him my best puppy dog eyes and playful pout as I looked at him. “You don’t even have to drink. You can just sit there and be quiet,” I spoke before abruptly stopping in my tracks. And just as I turned around, Spencer walked right into me. In order to keep me from toppling over, he grabbed both my arms to keep me upright. His hands were touching the exposed skin on my arms, causing me to smile. This would be the first time he was touching me, off of a case. Working on a case is a whole different story. Pulling me out of the way of an unsub is different than firmly placing his hands on my arms to steady me from falling.

“You need to be more careful… I won’t always be there to catch you when you fall,” he spoke low just so I could hear him. I smiled as I looked up at him.

“But, I’d love it if you were there,” I lifted a hand to place on his chest. Just as he opened his mouth, someone appeared beside us. I smiled as I looked over at the person.

“Will you two just get a room already?” Emily looked between Spencer and I before leaving us alone. I looked back up at Spencer with a new, confident, and flirtatious smile. He looked clueless as always. Of course, he didn’t know what Emily meant by that.

“Whaddya say we go find a broom closet and show up to O’Keefes a little later than the others,” I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck. Even in my highest heels, Spencer was still a good few inches taller than me. So, I stood on my toes to try to get closer to his personal space and lean closer to his face. “I know where some great broom closets are to get… funky in,” I whispered as I leaned closer to him. We were a good few inches away from each other, and it was taking everything in me to not press my lips to his.  

“I… I, uh... Uh,” Spencer started, but clearly couldn’t find the words to say anything. I smiled before lifting a finger to his lips.

“Just a nod or a shake of your head will be okay…  And, if you say no, I won’t be upset. I’ll stop and I won’t bring it up again… Now, Doctor Reid,” I whispered as I pulled my finger away from his lips. “Do you want to go find a broom closet and have some fun in there?” I asked again. Spencer stared at me with wide eyes before rapidly nodding. I put my arms back around his neck before pressing my lips to his. Spencer placed his hands firmly on my waist.

And after 8 years of working here, I’m finally getting what I want. 

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

[sirrwritesalots]

Dance With Me? ~ Spencer Reid (fluff)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader [Y/n] Warnings: none, just fluff, and possibly mention of PG-13 (if it's even considered that?) Summary: The team is invited to an FBI gala-type event with food, music, and casual conversation, and everyone ultimately has a good time, especially you and Spencer, who find the chance to have a dance with one another as the air shifts between the two of you. [The imagine is set with all characters -Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia- and post-Maeve] Word Count: 1871 A/N: I love to write, but for the last few years, I’ve had horrible writer’s block, and I miss writing so much. This is my first imagine/creative writing thing I’ve posted on Tumblr, so bare with me please! I recently started watching Criminal Minds again, and this just popped into my head, so I figured why not? Though, Criminal Minds is not usually my genre, I wanted to give it a try (it might be cringy in some parts, I apologize). I hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)

Seeing as everyone on the BAU team was given a three-day-weekend off to have somewhat of a break, you all agreed to attend the FBI Ball Saturday night, giving you the day to relax and get ready.

That morning after you woke up, you had some breakfast and read a book by the window, followed by lunch and a nice, relaxing bath with rose oil, bath salts, and a lit candle. Once the water had gone cold and you were done with the bath, you decided to start getting ready for the plans you had later that evening, which consisted of blow drying and styling your hair, then applying some light - yet natural - makeup. Slipping into the dark blue evening dress with the strappy, laced-up back you picked out two weeks ago, you looked yourself up and down in the full-length mirror in your room with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since you had the chance to get dressed up and have a night of fun with friends, which is exactly what you were planning on doing; having fun. 

Work had been extremely stressful lately, for everyone - more so than usual, considering your line of work; being in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where you work with serial killers day-in and day-out. One case in particular was rough on everyone; picked by the team’s communications liaison, JJ, you were flown out to Omaha, Nebraska to find an unsub who had a wide victimology and almost no similarities when it came down to location or anything else. You were there coming up on two whole weeks, when, after spending nearly forty-eight hours awake studying every detail, Spencer had found a similar signature connecting each murder. It wasn’t previously detected because it was so small it was easily overlooked, that is, until Derek and Rossi revisited every site and concluded that Spencer was right. At each location where a victim was found, a trinket of some sort was hidden, left behind as a sign of remorse. At first it made no sense, because each killing seemed too extreme to leave any room for remorse, not until the idea of a partner in crime was bounced around. Meaning that there were now two unsubs, one who was the alpha that controlled everything, and a second who most likely lured in the victims but only because they were told to rather than because they wanted to. Luckily, all the trinkets had traces of the unsub and their partner’s DNA left on it. That discovery soon led to tracking the unsub and chasing him down, where you and Emily went into the building first, to try and appeal to and reason with the submissive unsub, and would ultimately save the life of their latest victim. The plan went sideways when you two were met with the wrong one, and stepped into the middle of a trap... The unsub wanted a trade - the final victim for the two FBI agents - but the rest of the team, including the police force backing them up, were not about to have that. In the end, everyone was extracted and brought back to the precinct, except for the second unsub, who lost their life in the midst of the fight. 

To say the least, the team needed a break, and to have some fun.

Adding the final touch to your look -- a pair of black heels -- you grabbed your purse and jacket before locking the front door behind you and making your way to the car.

Once you were at the venue, a valet took your keys and parked your car for you. You stood on the curb, looking up at the gorgeous entrance of a high-end hotel. Before you could think about how all-out the bureau went, a familiar, deep voice spoke up on your right, “Damn Mama, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Turning, you came face-to-face with the most iconic duo of your team, Derek Morgan with Penelope Garcia standing beside him. Your cheeks flushed as you smiled, “You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff. Penelope, sweetheart, you look as wonderful as ever.”

“Please, I don’t think anyone here looks as good as you.” She waved her hand, a dismissal to your comment as she noticeably gawked at you.

“Why don’t we find out. Shall we?” You raised an eyebrow at them, tilting your head in the direction of the hotel.

“We shall.” Penelope disconnected herself from her chocolate thunder, and looped her arm with yours with a giggle as the three of you entered the building and followed the signs to the ballroom.

Tables filled with assorted foods line one wall while tables are scattered throughout the front half of the room, a live band played against the back wall, and the floor of the other half of the room was left unoccupied by furniture to leave space for dancing and mingling. You mentally thanked the event coordinator, whoever they might be, for ensuring the lights were dimmer than usual, since it gave your eyes a rest from the usual harsh office lights. 

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the rest of your team, when your gaze landed on a man wearing a slick, dark gray suit and a maroon tie with his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead yet just out of reach of his eyes. You hadn't realized you were staring until Penelope had to practically drag you to where Emily and JJ were standing while Derek split with you guys to meet up with Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer.

“So, is anyone looking particularly yummy tonight?” Penelope asked Emily and JJ, bubbly before her first drink of the night as her eyes eagerly swept across the room. Typical Garcia. Gotta love her, though.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m going to get a drink, anyone else want a one?” The girls gave you their requests, and you were off to the bar stationed near the wonderful display of food that you were sure to raid in a matter of time - that is, if your stomach had any say about it. "One-"

A voice interrupted you and finished your order before you could get more than a single word out, "Gin martini with a lemon twist." A smirk formed on your lips as you see who was standing next to you. "Oh! And chilled, but not on the rocks," Spencer added with a wink in your direction, a goofy smile plastered on his face to match your own.

"Spence, you remembered!"

"Y/n, I have an idetic memory; of course I remembered."

You rolled your eyes in response and ordered for the girls before you forgot as the bartender handed you your drink. "So, how's your evening so far?"

"Good. Met a couple of Rossi's friends, one of which was an older woman who touched my arm a lot, though I don't know why..."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh, you poor innocent boy."

"Innocent?" He raised an eyebrow at you, faking offense, as he helped you carry the drinks to the table the girls were standing around. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Why shouldn't I be when you make comments like that?" you countered. "Alright," you announced, cutting the conversation short before it can lead to anywhere presumptuous in front of company, you name off the drinks as you and Spencer place them in front of their respective owners.

Spencer took his place by your side, his arm pressed against yours and his gaze fixated on you, waiting patiently for you to notice or make another comment from your earlier conversation. The girls hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, seeing as you and Spencer had become the absolute best of friends in a short amount of time when you first joined the group, which meant the two of you were in very close proximity to one another about ninety-percent of the time. They were also too busy to notice over their ogling of the other attendees.

"You're staring," you murmured over your glass to him as you took a sip of your martini before stealing a quick glance up at him, then returning your eyes back to the crowd forming in the room. Rossi, Hotch, and Derek were still nowhere to be seen from your spot.

"Sorry," you heard him whisper, his eyes still stationed on you for a moment before he looked around as well. 

The live band began to play one of your favorite songs by Frank Sinatra, Fly Me To The Moon, and you couldn't help the smile that brightened your whole face after you took another sip of your drink.

The warmth that accompanied Spencer when he stood as close to you as he had been suddenly disappeared, making your heart unexpectedly quicken in a mix of worry and disappointment at the loss of contact. Then, when a throat cleared, and you saw him still standing next to you only a little farther away than he originally was with his hand extended and a lopsided smile on his face as hope flickered bright in his eyes. Your anxiety calmed, and was replaced with joy.

"Care to dance?"

Taking his hand, you stepped closer to him and replied, "I'd love to," as he led the two of you to the dance floor.

There, he pulled you closer to him, your bodies pressed against one another, as his hand slid behind you to rest easily on the small of your back while his other hand held one of yours, and your other hand took place on his shoulder. The two of you swayed as the music filled your ears.

You felt content in that moment. So happy with your friends, music, and food and drink. You couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening during your weekend off. Hopefully you wouldn't spoil it all by accidentally drinking too much and either a) managing to somehow embarrass yourself before the night is over or b) having to nurse a killer hangover the next morning - the last day of freedom before being called back into work the following day.

You felt Spencer's eyes on you once more. Though it wasn't creepy or unsettling; with him it never seemed to feel that way. Instead, it warmed your body, making your cheeks flush and your chest flutter.

"You're staring again." When he refused to take his eyes off you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You seem to do it a lot. Why is that?"

"Possibly because you always look amazing. Except tonight; tonight you look... radiant."

"Oh, please... you're only saying that because you've never seen me all dressed up like this before." You dip your head rest on the side of his own in an attempt to hide your face, not from embarrassment, but rather to hide how red your cheeks had become in a mere matter of seconds by the few simple words he uttered.

"No, I'm not. Y/n, look at me, please." His voice was gentle yet serious as his fingers gently guided your chin up so you could properly look at him. "I mean it."

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 9 - Historical (Regency, Ancient Greece/Rome, Prehistory etc.) / Modern / Futuristic AU

Mr Hotchner, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance (Regency AU)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader (dresses, mention of becoming an old maid)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: General Audiences

TW: None

AN: Day 9 of @tropetember. Yet another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Not sure how effective it is a Regency piece? Any feedback would be much appreciated.

A widower with a good fortune and a son moves into the nearby great estate. Will that be any concern of yours?

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.5k

When Jane Austen observed that a young man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, she was not incorrect. The question is whether all of those criteria needed to be met for similar conclusions to be made of men in similar circumstances.

Mr Hotchner, whilst in possession of good fortune, could no longer be classed as young, being in his mid-thirties. To further complicate matters, he was a widower and had a child from his first match.

When the inhabitants of the surrounding area became acquainted with the details of the new owner of the neighbouring great estate, they too were unsure. Some claimed he would be past his prime, grief would likely have ruined him, left crags upon his face and aged him beyond his years. Others, notably those with unwed daughters, argued that a mother figure for his son and match for himself would only increase the happiness and imagined handsomeness of the fine gentleman due to enter the parish.

As it is in most cases, neither party was entirely correct. On his arrival into the county, he was noted to be a handsome man, but he never smiled. He was charming and generous, but rarely spoke unless questioned. He may be improved by feminine influence, but did not seem to be in the market for such.

Whilst you were aware of the excitement of the new neighbour, you chose not involve yourself in the fray. At nearly 29, your future as an old maid had been declared by the villagers for many years. You were lucky that your younger brother was set to inherit your fathers modest estate upon his passing. You knew your brother would continue to look after you, and in return you did what you could to help your family in the day to day.

You had been so disconnected from the gossip, that it came as a surprise when your father notified you that the family had been invited to the estate for dinner and cards. Mr Hotchner was hosting one of his friends, Sir David Rossi, and it was apparently at his suggestion that the event was conceived.

As usual before an engagement, you select a nice dress, a new one you had been treated to a few weeks earlier, made of fine fabrics and with lace trim. Your maid, Sarah, had helped you style your hair and by the end of it, even you would agree that you looked pretty. You’d never be a beauty, but you were looking your best in the spring of your late bloom.

The carriage ride to the estate was quiet. Your brother mainly discussed business with your father as your mother and yourself admired the countryside. This admiration only grew as you entered the estate’s gardens. They were spectacular. A balanced combination of wilderness and cultivation.

Pulling up, you all clambered from the carriage and were led into the house by one of the servants. Inside, a modest party of the foremost members of the neighbourhood were gathered and you greeted them as you entered. It was not until around 5 minutes later that Mr Hotchner and his friend entered.

He was very handsome, something the slightly severe expression on his face could not hide. You could not help but watch as he slowly made his way around the room. He had a very authoritative presence, but not in an arrogant or rude way. It seemed more that he was aware of his role and status.

It was not long until it was your turn to be introduced to him. You curtsied and shyly met his eyes as you rose back to full height. For the first time in many years, you felt your breath catch slightly.

Your eyes were drawn away from Mr Hotchner’s as Sir David was also introduced to you. He was older than his companion, with a well maintained beard and a gentle grin resting on his features. He was also effortlessly charming but in a more extroverted manner than his friend.

You conversed with the pair for a while, polite conversation you make with new acquaintances about how they are enjoying the area and settling and such. It is not until dinner is called that you’re reluctantly separated. Good conversationalists were sorely lacking in this part of the world and you were already looking forward to getting to know them.

Dinner was a tasty and lively affair, with many laughs and much conversation. Afterwards the gentlemen separate off to have their whisky, leaving the women to gossip and you to nip out to answer the call of nature.

On your way back, you are met with an unexpected sight.

At the bottom of the main staircase stands a young boy in a dressing gown, stuffed toy in hand. Seeing that he looks upset, you slowly approach him and smile gently.

“Hello” you greet him. “Are you well?” you ask the little boy, not wanting to crowd him but unsure why he is upset.

He shakes his head shyly and his eyes stay trained on the floor. It breaks your heart a little.

Bobbing down, you pull a handkerchief from the hidden pocket in your dress to gently wipe his tears. Once they’re cleared away, you introduce yourself to him.

He reaches out a hand as his manners kick. “I’m Jack Hotchner. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice isn’t full bodied but it’s a good start.

“Well, what a polite young gentleman.” He smiles at you for the compliment and holds himself a little taller. “Where might you be heading this late at night.”

“I," he pauses, "I want to see my father.”

You nod your head.

“Of course young sir” you give a theatrical bow to offer your hand to him which makes him giggle as he takes hold, “follow me.”

You head down to the room you saw the men head into and knock gently, hearing Mr Hotchner call for you to enter.

Gently pushing the door, you answer his questioning expression. “I found someone in the entrance hall who wished to see you.” He looks concerned until he spots his son’s head peeking around you. His face breaks out into a large smile which makes him appear far more youthful than you would have guessed. Sir David’s tales of him being a heartbreaker may not be as exaggerated as you first believed.

He greets the young boy, taking his hands as he lowers himself to his son’s level to ask what is wrong. On discovery of Jack having had a nightmare, he brings him into the room, thanking you for looking after him and releasing you to head back to the ladies.

Your mother immediately corners you upon your return and you do your best to divert her by claiming to have been appreciating the art decorating the corridors. It is not necessarily a lie, the house itself is beautiful enough itself to be considered such, but you doubt Mr Hotchner would appreciate you sharing his son’s nightmares with people who are strangers to him.

You do not have to distract your mother for long thankfully, as the gentlemen soon return and card tables are drawn up. There are slightly too many people for everyone to play so you offer to sit out and take a seat on a nearby settee with one of the books from the shelves. You are slightly surprised when a small body, now dressed in his father’s suit jacket, settles on the cushion next to you.

As you entertain the young Hotchner, you are unaware of the discussion taking place across the room.

“She seems good with him,” observes Sir David, deliberately keeping his voice down and pretending to contemplate his cards.

Mr Hotchner shoots him a withering glance before allowing, “she does. In general, she seems like a lovely woman. I am glad we have made her acquaintance.”

Sir David hums as his gaze drifts back to you, now teaching the young boy some sort of clapping game. “You know, I would be rather upset with you if you were not to throw a ball before I am to leave for London.”

“I believe you are meddling again Sir David,” Mr Hotchner plays a card as he continues, “but I will speak to the staff tomorrow about organising one.”

“You will be expected to dance, since you are hosting.”

Despite not normally being one to give into his friends' schemes, Mr Hotchner nods, eyes once again fixed on you.

“I’m sure I can find someone suitable,” he says and at that moment your eyes meet his. Yes, he thinks, he is sure you will dance as beautifully as you smile.