#thinking about bau nat

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Ultracrepidarian [Spencer x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@virginmary2008) Center (@reidobsessed) Right (@quillnote)

Prompt: When the BAU-reader nearly faints while giving a lecture to the NAT trainees, Spencer finally can’t hold back how he really feels about her as he drives her home. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/angst/comfort

Word Count: 15K

Content Warnings: Light drinking, canon typical violence (unsub kills via acid [description of bodies after death] mention of bodies being cut into), the threat of violence [reader and Spencer]  and physical assault [reader and a random woman], drugging [reader], ERs, broken bones, language, and prolonged pain. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Good evening, loves! It’s the first fic of January and it’s with the cutest, Spencer! I’ve had this idea since I learned the word ultracrepidarian, and I could totally see him saying it to someone. This is a slow burn until the very end. I tried my best to build up the suspense and tension between the reader and Reid, and I hope you enjoy the payout at the end. As always, thank you to my lovely readers who interact with my work. I hope the new year is treating you well. If you do enjoy this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a great rest of your week! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/c/y_’s = your color eyes 

__y/f/f/f_ = your favorite fast food 

_y/f/f/g/m_ = your favorite feel good movie 

_y/l/p_ = your local pharmacy 

“Ultracrepidarian,” Spencer said aloud while looking over the draft of the lecture _y/n_ was due to give tomorrow to the fresh batch of N.A.T. trainees. Agent _y/l/n_ looked up and said, “My lecture is what now?” _y/n_ had never heard the word before in her life. She wasn’t sure she could even say it right if it was written on paper. Spencer looked up from his notes and repeated, “Ultracrepidarian. What I’m trying to say is that you’re trying to sound smart, but I don’t think it’s helping your point.” _y/n_ sighed and said, “I am trying to sound smart. That’s the point. Why would two hundred new agents just coming back from their holiday break want to listen to me talk about how to do their case exercises? Derek was supposed to be the one giving this lecture anyway. Why’d he ask me and not Hotch or you? I’m so new to this I feel like I was just in those trainings myself.” Hotch, who had overheard the conversation as he was passing up to his office offered, “Morgan asked you because he saw you as the best fit for the job. If he’d wanted me or Spencer, he would have asked, but he asked you for a reason, _y/n_. You’ll do a fine job.” Aaron’s words of affirmation sent a moment of comfort _y/n_’s way, but the copious annotations Reid was making on her draft had her stomach tighten again. Three days prior, during one of the long, boring paperwork-filled days in the office, Morgan had gotten a call at his desk. He’d looked at the phone with a serious expression before picking up and walking outside of the bullpen just as he left, _y/n_ had heard him say, “What is it, Sarah?” A half-hour later, he’d come back in the room looking even more serious than before. The strong agent moved to the stairs and took them three at a time before stopping at Hotch’s door. The man knocked once and then entered the glowing office. There had been another half-hour conversation before Morgan appeared again. This time he moved and found Spencer and Emily. They chatted in hushed whispers for a few seconds before getting the important stuff on his desk and then heading out the door and toward the elevator. _y/n_ watched all of this with veiled interest. She knew that there was an unstated rule about profiling each other, and she was so new to the team that she didn’t want to make assumptions about what was going on. 

_y/n_ didn’t have to wait long as she caught Emily speaking with Penelope in the breakroom as they were grabbing their lunches from the fridge. _y/n_ overheard a snippet of the conversation, “Yeah, it sounded serious this time. Especially if he has to fly up there. I hope it turns out okay.” _y/n_, who was preparing some _c/t_ was about to ask if she could join the conversation, but was cut off by JJ, who popped her head in the room, and said, “Hotch just called us to the conference room. New case.” Just after JJ finished speaking, the timer on the microwave dinged. Emily let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Why is there always a new case when my food is finished? Can’t these unsubs wait a half hour?” That had everyone in the room chuckle, and as Garcia and Prentiss moved their food back into the fridge, the trio of agents moved up the stairs, the liaison stated, “Given how gross this case is, Emily, I think you’ll thank Aaron for not giving you the time to eat before you see the photos.” That had everyone sober as they moved into the conference room. The team sat while Aaron and JJ set up. Hotch spoke first, and he addressed that someone important was missing. The leader of the BAU cleared his throat and said, “As most of you know, Derek won’t be joining us for this case. He had something personal come up in Chicago, and I’m not sure when he’ll be coming back. However, I have confidence that we can work as efficiently as we always do, even if a member isn’t here.” Everyone nodded. Each of them knew that things happened. They had with Gideon at the end of last year. That had been a difficult transition for all of them. But with Rossi returning to the BAU, things had settled. There was more of a reassurance with Morgan. He was coming back. With Gideon, it had been like waiting for the other show to drop. And when it had, it wasn’t pretty. Aaron began jumping into the specifics of the case, with JJ adding details about the four victims so far. The college-age men and women who had been killed were unrecognizable. The use of hydrochloric acid via syringe into the carotid artery was a terrible, terrible way to die. The tissue and skin had been eaten away by the acid, exposing gaping holes in the bodies of the deceased. There also seemed to be signs of assault on the bodies that proceeded the killings. Lastly, The slogan for Yale, which all of the victims attended, was carved into their backs and read “Lux et Veritas.” If one thing was for sure, this was a crime of passion, and whoever or whatever was getting in the way of the killer ended up looking less human and more like an over-the-top dummy from a James Wan horror film. Unsettled, JJ gave the rest of the brief and told them they could find more in their files. After a few minutes of silent reading, Hotch said, as he always did, “Wheels up in thirty. We don’t know what’s causing the unsub to strike, but they’re organized, so the quicker we get to Connecticut, the sooner we can ensure it doesn’t happen again. 

On the plane, Spencer drank his supersaturated sugar-filled coffee next to _y/n_. He kept bouncing his knee up and down in a way that _y/n_ understood to be excitement. Of course, no one on the team would voice that thought, but bizarre cases brought a set of challenges that others didn’t. They forced the team to think on their feet and move on instinct. _y/n_ looked over the Spence, realizing he was bottling up energy that he usually didn't at the start of cases. _y/n_ then understood that it was the absence of Derek that had caused the change. Normally Spence and his best friend would be bantering and tossing ideas between them. Morgan would tease Reid for the size and scope of this knowledge. _y/n_ missed the animated talking, so she initiated it herself, asking, “So, why hydrochloric acid? Is that stuff easy to get your hands on? And why all Yale students? There has got to be a connection between them, right?” This offering had Spencer off to the races, with his first comment being, “Buying that kind of acid isn’t as hard as you think. And, if you're a chemistry student or in the hard sciences, you might work with it weekly. As for the student connection, it’s possible, but there might be lots of other factors that we don’t know yet. Maybe they were in the same cohort during orientation, or maybe the unsub picked them at random. The threads tying this all together seem disparate. I hope once we’re on campus and I’ve seen a crime scene, I’ll have a better idea.” _y/n_ nodded along. Just hearing Spencer hypothesize felt special. Spencer was the closest to _y/n_ in age, and they’d bonded over that early on. _y/n_ respected everyone else on the team a great deal, but with Reid, she felt like she could relax. She wouldn’t be judged for being young or relatively naivete in this job. She always looked to him for advice. They’d slowly gotten to know each other because they spent the most time together on cases and in the bullpen. Derek had even started teasing Reid about when he was going to ask _y/n_ out. Overhearing that conversation had _y/n_ turn back the way she came in an instant. That didn’t stop Morgan from seeing how flustered _y/n_ was or how flushed Spencer's face had become. As _y/n_ reflected on that moment, she noticed with a small smile, that Reid’s leg had stopped moving. Now that he was in the thick of conversation, with his mouth struggling to keep up with his train of thought, he didn’t need to let out his anxious energy in such a physical way. _y/n_ smiled at the fact, and she leaned in a little closer to try and catch all that her teammate was saying. 

When the jet landed, Hotch made quick introductions to the campus police and then split the BAU into separate groups. Aaron wanted Reid with him as he was the most familiar with the Ivy League system, and he thought it might be helpful while speaking to the President of the university. Meanwhile, _y/n_ and Rossi would check out the first two dorms where the bodies of Charles Talbot and Shauna Mann had been found by roommates who were now in shock. JJ and Emily were going to speak with the UPD for a while longer to see if they could get some useful information out of them before JJ would work on a response for the students, faculty, and staff, and Prentiss went and surveyed the campus. It was near midterms, and although four students were dead and memorials were being held, most of the students didn’t seem to care. They were so absorbed in their studies and tests that the murders seemed to flow off their backs like water on a duck. 

That evening, after an unproductive day, in Spencer’s room, he and _y/n_ looked over the new evidence. _y/n asked him, “Hey, is it that cutthroat in a school like this that the students aren’t worried about what’s happened? Certainly, they must value their lives more than some test?” Reid looked up from his notepad and sighed. He didn’t want to sound annoying, but he knew that _y/n_ listened to him with an understanding that he didn’t get from everyone. His brain and inability to seem to form strong connections often had him feeling left out. Not on the team, or even in his daily life, but he remembered how it had felt to be so isolated and different. In his high school years, he’d cured his brain for its ability, but he also knew it was the only way out of his life. It was half-blessing, half-curse. _y/n_ tipped her head slightly. She could sense him thinking, and it was rare for Spencer to not voice his thoughts. It was so natural for him. However, there was a pause, before Reid said, “I couldn’t tell you _y/n_. College was so easy for me that it just felt like a breeze. But for normal people? I don’t. I don’t know.” _y/n_ felt a tug at this choice of words. “Normal people.” Not that it was condemning them. It was condemning himself as an unnatural person. Agent _y/l/n_ had heard Spencer do this a few times when he was stressed or out of his comfort zone. He’d ostracize himself. Sometimes it took the form of a joke, and other times, it was self-deprecating humor, like when he’d said, “Well, I can recite The Decameron in the original Latin, but I haven’t been on a date in a year, so I guess I’m the lucky one in this situation.” _y/n_ knew that Reid did it to himself as a self-comforting gesture, but some people, even in the office, had almost openly ridiculed his intelligence. It made _y/n_ so angry. Bullying was for high schoolers, not adults. And if the people who had made Reid feel othered only understood what a help he was on cases and to her as a friend, she knew they’d shut the fuck up real quick. _y/n_ looked down at the gory picture in her hand. Softly she said, “We’re all human, Spencer. Even this unsub is human. We just have different abilities, different things we’ve been through.” _y/n_ didn’t want to look up at him. She wasn’t sure it was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t what Reid had expected, and without even thinking about it, he replied, “At least you’re a human with friends.” 

This had _y/n_ look up with surprise. She hadn’t expected what she thought to be words of comfort to end his him saying something like that. _y/n_ took in Spencer’s expression. Even he seemed shocked or ashamed at letting that inside thought out. Gently, _y/n_ placed a hand on his crossed knee and said, with as much sincerity as she could muster, “You have friends, Spencer. You have me, Derek, and Garcia. You have the whole team. And what about your chess club? You don’t have to be adrift out there if you don’t want to be.” It was the best she could think of on the spot. As she said it, Spencer seemed to relax. He knew he got in his head. That he kept things in that he shouldn’t, but hearing _y/n_ validate him had him give her a small smile. She was so reassuring to him. Often, he wasn’t sure why. People didn’t generally choose to be in his life, but _y/n_ had gone beyond being just a colleague, and now and then, he felt the tug of what was adjacent to affection and love when he was around her. Spencer hadn’t felt that in a long time, and he shied away from it whenever it bubbled uncomfortably close to the surface. Spencer felt it now in his chest and stomach. He kept it inside like so much else in his life. Instead of addressing his feelings, he said, “I appreciate you reminding me of that _y/n_. You’re a good friend to me.” _y/n_ beamed at him and said, “You got it, Spence. I’ll remind you anytime you need.” Seeing _y/n_’s smile had Reid flushed, and he pulled a victim’s picture in front of him to distract himself. He couldn’t let his feelings get the best of him. Especially not on a case. Thankfully, his strategy worked, and he regained his composure. _y/n_ and he spent most of the night trying and testing theories and possibilities on the other. Even though nothing massive had happened, there seemed to be a shift in the air, pulling them closer together, in unknowable ways. When _y/n_ got back to her motel room, she got a call from Derek. The one where he asked her to speak from him, and _y/n_ said yes because it was a privilege that she didn’t fully understand. Morgan encouraged her and said that she could call him if she needed help. With that, Morgan hung up the phone, leaving _y/n_ excited about the possibility yet nervous at the prospect of speaking to so many people. 

The next day, a new body was found in Harkness Hall. The building was cleared of students, and the team spent the morning looking over the place from top to bottom. None of the students seemed to see anything odd, which could mean that the unsub had to live in the building and come in so late that everyone was asleep on that floor. This time, however, the killer had made an error. They had left traces behind, like hair and some dark flecks of navy paint that looked pretty distinct. It became clear to the team that the unsub was losing control of their anger as this victim, Bobby Ashten, hadn’t been injected with the acid but doused in it instead. There were also traces of formaldehyde in the mix. Why the added substance, no one could say yet. The sight and smell were so bad that the coroner and the police had to step out a few times to stop themselves from vomiting and contaminating the crime scene. It took a long time for the evidence to be bagged and tagged. Halfway through the process, a member of the UPD informed Aaron that the victim’s girlfriend, who was in hysterics, was outside demanding to come in. Hotch sent _y/n_ and JJ to try and calm the girl down and get a statement if it felt appropriate. If not, then get her to a counselor and get her contact information for later. JJ and _y/n_ took a deep breath once they were outside. They stripped their faces of the N-95 masks and latex gloves. They both felt relief from being outside of that room and building. The sun swept over the two agents, as they walked toward the young woman who was still crying. Kitty looked up at the approaching agents. Kitty’s face was streaked with tears. JJ moved forward first and said, “Hey, Ms. Kincade. My name’s Jennifer Jareau. I’m with the FBI. Agent _y/n_ and I are here to see how you’re doing. I’m afraid we can’t let you in to see your boyfriend, but we want to let you know that we’re here for you and that we’re doing everything we can to catch the guy who did this to Bobby.” Kitty sniffled, and her sadness seemed to turn to rage as she said, “It’s not a guy. It’s that crazy ex-girlfriend of Bob’s - Jenni. I told him to stop hanging out with her. She was like five years older than him, and it was gross. I fucking told him, but did he listen to me? No. He never listens to me. I kept inviting her to hangouts and parties and everything, and then, Jen ingratiated herself into his life so much that I couldn’t get her out. I know I shouldn’t have slept with Bobby when he was still dating her, but he was miserable. I thought I was doing him a favor. Look what good it did me. He’s fucking dead now.” Kitty burst into tears again, and JJ moved forward to embrace her. 

As the media liaison hugged the grieving girl, JJ could feel _y/n_ thinking a  mile a minute behind her. J knew that _y/n_ was as quick-witted as Spencer, just not as talkative. After a moment, _y/n_ asked gently, “Did you talk to Bobby every day? Did Jenni talk or text to him?” Kincade nodded and said, “I was always texting him. He never left me unread. That’s why I knew something was wrong last night. He didn’t text back for two hours, and he knows I hated that.” _y/n_ nodded. As cruel as it sounded in a moment like this, Kitty came across as insecure. Her clothing, demeanor, and intonation told _y/n_ that Kitty needed Mr. Drew for support and validation. _y/n_ got it. She’d felt the same way before herself when she was younger. However, the teary-eyed student hadn’t answered her second question, and _y/n_ gently prodded, “And did Jenni talk to Bob a lot? Did you ever feel like she was trying to get back together with him?” The anger was back in _y/n_’s face as she straightened up and out of JJ’s embrace. Kitty clenched her jaw before saying, “Hell yes she did. She texted him almost as much as I did. She acted like she was still his fucking girlfriend and not me. And they saw each other consistently too. They’re both in the nursing program and it’s brutal work. He relied on her to study with. She’s a TA and all so she could help him out. I know I’m not one to judge, I’m just a journalism major, but Bob procrastinated everything and I think he thought he could go to her and get all the answers. I told him not to, but like I said, he never listened to me.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I’m sorry to hear that he put you through that, and I’m sorry for your loss.” Kitty nodded, seeming to have calmed down from her hyper-emotional state. _y/n_ just needed to ask two more questions before she could let JJ continue her comfort and tell Kitty everything she needed to know. _y/n_ cleared her throat and said, “Kitty, just a few more things and I’ll let you talk to Ms. Jareau., “First, what’s Jenni’s last name, and do you know where Bobby was before he stopped texting you?” The student seemed to swallow back bile as she said, “Jenni, Jenni Foster. And Bobby was with her. He was supposed to have a big anatomy test today and they both went to the cadaver lab together. I wasn’t cool with it, but Bob promised me he’d be back by midnight.” _y/n_ nodded empathetically and said, “I’m sure he wanted to get back to you, Kitty. I know he would have if he could.” _y/n_ looked over to JJ and the media liaison nodded, knowing that _y/n_ had a lot to relay to the team. With JJ’s gentle nod, _y/n_ walked out past Kitty’s eyesight. Once this was the case, she sprinted back into the building. _y/n_ beeped into the dorm with her temporary ID and rushed to the elevator. As the metal box opened with a ding, _y/n_ pressed for floor fifteen. _y/n_ couldn’t be sure that Jenni Foster was the unsub, but something inside _y/n_ shot a pang of dread through her At least this was another lead if nothing else. Just outside the elevator to the floor of the crime scene. _y/n_ slipped on some latex gloves and a new mask. 

As soon as _y/n_ entered the room Aaron’s eyes turned to her. Through his mask, Hotch asked, “Any leads?” Hotch sounded as desperate as she had felt for an excuse to get out of the newest crime scene. _y/n_ nodded, catching his drift. She replied, “I’ve got a possible unsub, Jenni Foster, and a possible location for the last death.” Hearing this, everyone seemed to relax. It meant a chance to get out of the dorm. Hotch thought for a second and said, “Alright, Emily and I will try and find Ms. Foster, _y/n_ and Spencer, go to the last known location of the victim.” Aaron turned to look at Rossi, trying to give him an option for escape. David had already thought of what he could do and replied, “I can go and inform the president and the chief of the UPD, and I’ll call Garcia to see what she can dig up on Foster.” Hotch nodded and said, “Alright. Hopefully, this will give us some much-needed answers.” The team rode the elevator down to the ground floor. Aaron and Em moved toward the parked SUV in one of the reserved faculty spots, and Spencer asked, “Fill me in on what Kitty said.” _y/n_ took his elbow, as Reid tried to move up campus and not toward the School of Medicine. Spencer followed her lead, realizing he had no idea where they were headed. As the duo descended the stairs, _y/n_ replied, “Kitty said that Bobby had an ex-girlfriend who might have taken things to a bit of an extreme. Apparently, they were both in the nursing program and Bobby relied a lot on her for help even after she’d broken up with him.” Hearing this, Spencer cringed. He might not be the best at reading emotions, but he knew that was a no-go. Reid looked over at _y/n_, as they moved toward the south side of campus. He asked, “Are we sure, Kitty’s not the person we’re looking for?” _y/n_ shook her head and said, “It’s always a possibility, but she seemed pretty dependent on Bobby. I don’t know why she’d want to kill him. He cheated on Jenni with her and then left Jenni for Kitty. That’s why I think it’s Ms. Foster. We were saying that this was a crime of passion. What’s more passionate than a cheating boyfriend? Plus, Jenni and Bobby were in the cadaver lab last night, allegedly studying for a test. It feels like a little too much of a coincidence for it to just be nothing.” Spence nodded in agreement. Now that he knew where they were headed, he said, “You know we’re all susceptible to crimes of passion. Fifteen percent more than other crimes. Factor in the young age of college students brains not being fully developed, I’m surprised that we don’t see more issues on college campuses.” _y/n_ stopped Reid as he reached for the door and said, “Should we get UPD to come with us? What if Jenni’s here and does something drastic?” Reid pondered the question and said, “I doubt she’d go back to the scene so soon. We don’t even know if this is the scene. It’s a big plot point in mystery novels that killers go back to the site because no one would expect that, but it rarely happens. Generally, criminals are too concerned that they’ll be found or act strangely and then be suspected. Let’s just be on the lookout.” _y/n_ nodded and they moved into the building that held the cadavers of the Yale School of Medicine. 

Inside the cool, sleek building, _y/n_ and Spencer went up to the department office and flashed their badges. The student worker grabbed the head of the department. After a minute of waiting in the office, a sharply dressed woman came out, shook both of their hands and said, “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Peters, Dean of Yale Medical School.” The woman extended a hand to both agents and ushered them into her office. Nobody sat and there was an air of tension in the room. Spencer took the lead on the conversation as the agent with the most experience. Reid stated, “If we can, Agent _y//l/n_ and I would like to see the cadaver lab. We have reason to believe that it might have been the last known location of Bobby Ashten. We understand that he was a student of the program.” When the words registered, Dr. Peter’s face shifted from one of discomfort to anger. She stated, “Well I’m sure that’s not possible. All of our students are highly vetted before entry into the program.” Reid and _y/n_ noticed the shift in tone and Spencer said, “It’s possible that it’s not a student on the school that ended up attacking Mr. Ashten, we just got a tip that his last known location was the cadaver lab last night. Could you tell us who has access to that space?” Peters seemed to calm slightly as Spencer noted that the unsub might not be a part of the department. _y/n_ gave him a little nod at de-escalating the situation. After a brief silence, the dean replied, “Access to that lab is granted to instructors and TAs only. The bodies are taken out for class demonstrations. There’s a sign-in sheet at the door on the third floor. Those who deal with the bodies have special qualifications. If someone did allow a student in there it would be highly unethical.” Now _y/n_ jumped in and said, “Yes, it would be. Dr. Reid and I are just trying to be thorough and precise like the department has to be with its students and protocols. I know you’d rather have this looked at and cleared up now instead of waiting till later in the year.” Peters nodded with some hesitation and said, “Fine, take a look at the lab. I’ll send a TA down to let you in, just follow their instructions to a tee.” Both Spencer and _y/n_ nodded in agreement. Dr. Peters called for a TA to wait by the cadaver lab. After this, she ushered them back into the main office and told the student worker behind the desk, “Please escort our guests to Lab 308. Answer any questions they might have.” Just as the trio was about to leave, Peters said, “And Agents, if you should need any help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask me personally.” The Spencer and _y/n_  thanked her and shook her hand before being led out by the student worker. 

Neither agent spoke much as they made their way to the third-floor lab. The student worker seemed to be giving an informal tour like she had been told to show off the department and its most prestigious alumni and features. To not make it awkward for the woman, _y/n_ or Spencer would comment or ask a relevant question to fill in the silence. Finally, they made it to the third floor and lab 308. The student halted and said, “This is Barry Whitehouse, one of our second-year TAs. He’ll let you into the lab and tell you all of the protocols.” With that, the young woman walked with urgency away from the group. _y/n_ looked at Spencer for a second, and they had a silent conversation. They both knew they were being watched and monitored. _y/n_ took the lead on this conversation, as the TA was looking at her with an expression that said he liked what he saw. Even though it made her skin crawl, _y/n_ extended a hand, saying, “Agent _y/n_. It’s nice to meet you.” _y/n_ even went as far as moving her free hand to flip her jacket to the side so Barry could see her badge. The man’s eyes were wide with awe like he’d stumbled across the fountain of youth and not some newbie FBI agent. _y/n_ had to stop herself from laughing. She hid the sound as a cough and quickly pulled her hand back from Mr. Whitehouse’s. _y/n_ pointed to Spencer and said, “And this is my partner, Dr. Reid.” Spence raised a hand in a half gesture of welcome. Barry frowned back at him. Sensing the tension, _y/n_ diverted the attention back to herself. In a voice laced with faux honey, she said, “So, we kinda need to get in the lab. Can you tell us what we need to know before going in there?” Barry’s attention snapped back to her, and he said, “Oh, yeah,” like he’d forgotten why he’d been called down from his office in the first place. The man cleared his throat and said, “Well it’s pretty basic stuff, wear gloves at all times, keep your hair back. You can pull the bodies out unless there’s red tape on the handle of the gurney. Looking is fine, but in no way are you to touch the bodies. No photography of any kind unless you have a warrant and lastly, you both need to sign the log at the door.” _y/n_ sent him another fake smile and led Spencer to the door before Barry could say anything else. She tossed gloves at Spencer while she signed the logbook. _y/n_ pulled her gloves over her hands and stepped into the lab after Reid. Barry seemed too shocked to state that he should go in with them to make sure they followed the department's standard procedure. 

Inside the sterile lab where the dead mingled with the living, _y/n_ and Spencer both slumped back against the wall. It felt like hours since they had been alone to just talk and run ideas around like they normally did on a crime scene. They both took a moment to compose themselves while they looked around the space. _y/n_ looked at the dead bodies and said, “Dr. Peters was so passive-aggressive. Good job on talking her down. What was that with he offering to help us at the end?” Spencer who was looking in the cabinets and drawers said, “It's all about funding and reputation at these schools. She was probably offended at the insinuation that something like what happened to Bobby did in her department, but in the end, it would look even worse if she seemed to be interfering in the investigation. Thus the change in tone.” Spencer took a breath and said, “And good on you for distracting Mr. TA out there.” For some reason _y/n_ heard a hint of jealousy in Reid’s words, but she didn’t read into it. Instead, she just said, “That was light work. I have a way of getting people flustered no matter what I do. But I think we won’t be alone for long. Barry will probably be in here in a minute or two.” Spencer bit his lip, as he looked around for a second and stated, “I don’t think we’ll find anything here.” _y/n_ looked at him dumbfounded and asked, “Why? We’ve only been in here for a few minutes and Jenni’s name was on the log outside. She was the last person in here.” Spencer’s sharp eyes caught _y/n_’s and he said, “Well, they might have been in here, but not for long. For one there’s no blue paint on any of these walls, and we found that on the body. And secondly,” Spence paused as if for dramatic effect, “There’s no formaldehyde. There is hydrochloric acid in the cabinets, but why keep the two separate if they were found together on Bobby?” _y/n_ pondered the puzzle and said, “It doesn’t make any sense. Not with the paint and the chemicals. This building is brand spanking new. The student worker told us.” Spencer nodded and said, “Exactly, and a brand new building means an old abandoned one as well.” As _y/n_ looked at Reid, he had the excited look of having a new idea look on his face. When he held the door open for _y/n_, she didn’t question his logic. She didn’t have time to try and read him as he followed after her out the door. 

Barry looked startled at their sudden reappearance. Reid approached the man and said, “Do you have a key to the old medical building down the hill and across the street? The one that’s set to be demolished at the end of the term?” The TA mumbled, “Well yes, but no one goes in there but staff now. There’s still some stuff that needs to be transferred over to this building. That place is a dump, really. It should be torn down.” Spencer nodded along and said, “Can I borrow your key? Just for an hour, I swear it could be important to the investigation. Don’t you want to help stop what’s been happening on campus?” Mr. Whitehouse looked uncertain and then moved his half-scared eyes to _y/n_’s _y/c/y/_’s ones. _y/n_ gave him a reassuring smile and the man took off his lanyard from his neck. Barry unclipped an old-looking key from his carabiner and instead of handing it to Spencer, brushed past the genius and placed it in _y/n_’s outstretched palm instead. _y/n_ thanked him, and as she moved to leave the new shiny building, she said, “Thanks, Barry. Hey, say, where’s the cadaver lab in the old building?” The TA replied softly, “The basement I think, G02.” Before the man could get another word in edgewise, _y/n_ and Spencer were darting out of the building and down the hill toward the old side of campus. As they half-jogged toward the new space with anticipation, _y/n_ asked, “How did you know about the old building? It wasn’t on any maps of campus that I saw.” Spencer replied as they moved across a busy street, “I noticed it in the newsletter outside yesterday when I was looking around. Something about an old building on campus being demolished soon. So I asked Garcia about it and she sent me the information. As soon as I heard it was the old school of medicine it piqued my interest.” _y/n_ looked at him bewildered with how smart Dr. Reid was. However, she didn’t have time to comment on it as she reached the door of the dilapidated building that was soon to be torn down. The outside facade read: Yale School of Medicine” in fading letters. From the outside, it looked like there was no working electricity inside. The thought of going in there sent a cold chill up her spine. Spencer seemed ready to go, and _y/n_ handed him the key saying, “I’m just going to shoot The team a text letting him know where we are. I don’t trust that texts will get out once we’re in there.” Reid nodded and replied, “Good idea,” as he slipped the key into the lock. _y/n_ shot off the message as she followed Spence’s hurried steps inside. Once the door was closed behind them, _y/n_ felt like the world had closed off behind her. The air was stale and foul. Even just a few steps from the door the light seemed to fade dimmer and dimmer. Spencer stopped at a directory and emergency map of the building's layout. _y/n_ flashed her phone’s flashlight on the map and Spence traced the path to the old cadaver lab in the basement. 

The idea of going into the bowels of the building had _y/n_ on edge, but she wasn’t going to let Spencer go alone. Reid looked at her and swallowed. _y/n_ could see he was nervous too and said, “Keep on the lookout.” With that, as if to still his fear, Spencer moved to the end of the long hallway and down the stairs to the basement level of the building. They both had their phone flashlights out trying to light the gloomy space. The silence and darkness was oppressive. Neither _y/n_ nor Reid wanted to talk as they pierced the dark. Even small sounds of the air conditioning or mice in the air vents had both of the agents spooked. _y/n_ remembered how the pictures of the bodies reminded her of a horror movie, and this was no different. She didn’t want to think of dying in a place like this. It was too awful to imagine. Although the building wasn’t that old, the bottom floor seemed more disused and old than the first floor. It felt like something out of a bad dream. The floors were dusty and the paint was peeling from humidity that had probably sprouted mold. Slowly they made it to the old lab. The door opened with a terrible squeak, letting anyone in the basement know that they were there. Unfortunately for them, the person whom Spencer hadn’t expected to see was waiting for them on the other side of the door. Just as Reid stepped into the tomb-like room, he was hit on the head with a metal tray. The lean agent stumbled back into _y/n_ who dropped her phone. Right as Spence moaned in pain, a set of strong hands pushed _y/n_ back into the far wall. _y/n_ clawed at her assailant, but it did no good, she got the same metal tray to the head that had incapacitated Spencer. The feeling of a cold needle inserted into _y/n_’s arm stilled her movements entirely. 

_y/n_ woke up to her head spinning. There was a light bulb somewhere above her, but it seemed to be swimming in the air. Its apparent swinging motion made _y/n_ feel sick to her stomach. Everything seemed so bright and dark at the same time. _y/n_ bit back any painful sound or bile from rising in her mouth. After a few minutes, _y/n_ could see more clearly. _y/n_ assessed the situation and realized that she was strapped to a metal chair. Her arms and legs were strapped to her sides and legs to that of the chairs' metal legs. _y/n_ lolled her head to the side and noticed Spencer similarly strapped to a metal table. His arms and legs were held tight by restraints. His shirt had been removed and _y/n_ wanted to look away to respect his privacy. _y/n_ also wanted to ask if he was okay. If anything had happened to him yet. _y/n_’s desire was cut short as a young woman moved into the stark space. _y/n_ now noticed the chipping navy paint, and she realized that this must be where the murders had taken place. _y/n_ took a breath and the woman standing in front of them said, “You’re finally awake. Good. I took your badges and guns. You won’t need them now. When I’m finished with you both you won’t be recognizable anyway. Did you think you were going to catch me down here? On my turf?” Jenni sounded cocky like she had her system down to a T. Spencer took a labored breath and said, “What, what do you plan on doing with us?” There was just a hint of fear in his voice. _y/n_ understood it. He was the one strapped up and disrobed, not her. Jenni gave a cold laugh and said, “I’m gonna cut you up of course. Put the motto of this fucking school on your back and then show that bitch Kitty just how wrong she is by making you as fucking ugly as that bastard you left me for a good-for-nothing whore in sophomore year. I gave him everything. And how does he repay me? By cheating on a dumb blonde that can’t even pass a biology test.” The weight of Jenni’s delusion and obsessiveness sat with _y/n_ as she watched the woman pull a glinting scalpel from a rotten drawer in the room and approach Spencer. It seemed she transferred her anger at being cheated onto her victims. And they were her latest. For one moment _y/n_ wanted to thrash and scream and close her eyes to everything around her. This didn’t feel fair. This wasn’t what she’d signed up for when she joined the BAU. It felt like being pushed into the lockers in high school for something she hadn’t done. And then it clicked. All of this, was so, so very high school, and if she could lean into that, maybe, just maybe she could buy time. Without even thinking, _y/n_ said, “Are you really so insecure that you had to kill other people too? Why not just Bobby and Kitty? They were the ones that fucked you over, right?” _y/n_’s statement had Jenni turn on her heel. A rage filled her face, turning it red as she retorted, “Well that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it? I could just kill them, but watching them suffer was so much better. I got rid of Bobby’s friends first, and he came crawling to me for support, not his little bitch. He never knew until it was too late, bless him. Then seeing Kitty’s face this morning when she found out he was dead, I could have framed it and put it on my mantle. I might still actually.” There was s tense silence before Jenni said, “But you’re just trying to distract me. I’m going to do your friend's first agent _y/l/n_ and then I’m going to do you, and I’ll make you watch just so you know what’s going to happen to you in a few minutes.” _y/n_ struggled against the zip ties that were holding her down, as she attempted to think of anything to stop Jenni from carving into the skin of Spencer’s back. Jenni started saying, “Lux et Veritas” over and over again as if steeling herself for what she was about to do. “This is about spite and insecurity,” _y/n_’s brain whispered to her. And did _y/n_ know a thing or two about insecurity? 

The words came unbidden, and _y/n_ said, “You know for a killer you’re really stupid. Dr. Reid didn’t go to Yale, he went to Stanford. But I guess you didn’t do your research huh Like you didn’t notice those bottles of formaldehyde over on the counter over there. So unless you’re ready to cut Die Luft der Freiheit Weht into Dr. Reid here, I think you’re shit out of luck. Just like you were in getting Bobby back..” Those words had the effect _y/n_ wanted on Jenni, but the outpouring of anger streaming from the woman with the knife left _y/n_ speechless for a moment as Jenni turned to face her. The unsub said, “Look at you fucking smart ass. What if I fixed your face before I end your partner? I could cut out your tongue and you wouldn’t be able to make any more smart quips. I bet you were always the center of attention. Well, no one will look at or hear you when I’m done. Of course, I’m saying that hypothetically. You’ll both be dead when I’m finished with you.” Jenni swiped the knife right in front of _y/n_’s face and the agent felt the blade just gash her brow. The wound could have been much, much worse. And _y/n_ expected it to be as Jenni stepped closer and said, “Now hold still and it won’t be so bad for you. I promise. I’ve done this loads of times. Except those were dead people and you’re not. So just act dead for a few minutes.” _y/n_ flinched and closed her eyes. Trying to picture anything that might comfort her and not what was actually happening. Perhaps her plans of distracting Foster from hurting Spencer had worked too well. But as _y/n_ reflected in a split second, _y/n_ realized it would be all worth it if he didn’t get hurt. Dr. Reid had a similar line of thought and said, “You hate cheaters, right Jenni? You don’t care about some girl who makes you feel othered. Your real issue is with people who betray those they claim to love. Well if you’re looking for someone to punish it’s me. I’m that guy. I can’t keep a girlfriend even though I’ve had plenty. They just grow stale to me. I’m never happy. Don’t blame _y/n_ for that. She’s always stood by me as I threw her feelings in her face time and time again.” Reid’s comments threw Jenni for a loop and she kept rocking back and forth not knowing who to get first. Who had done the worst thing in her mind? Even though _y/n_ had gawked at Spence’s statement, she caught on quickly to his strategy. First, he’d never had a girlfriend that she knew about, and second, he’d never, ever told her that he was interested in her, even though she was interested in him. And that was the game. Lie to Jenni, and keep her off balance enough to not let her get to either of them. Thankfully neither of the agents had to come up with more lies as the door to the room burst open. It was Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, plus a few LEOs from the UPD. Jenni was too stunned to move as Dave rushed in and took her hands, pulling them behind her back. Meanwhile, Aaron moved to Spencer to free him of his binds while Emily helped _y/n_ out of her zip ties. _y/n_ felt overwhelmed but rushed to Spence once he was free. She didn’t want to require comfort from him, but she needed it. They had some close to a bad end, and she didn’t even notice that he still hadn’t put his shirt back on yet. She pressed her face to his warm chest which was bare and heaving with the ordeal he had also been through. 

That realization hadn’t hit her until the stark red and blue lights were flashing from an ambulance in the bright light of day. While Hotch explained how he’d had a bad feeling about them going into the building alone. To _y/n_ it didn’t feel right to be outside in the daylight with JJ and Emily standing by her side as the paramedics looked over her and Reid. Nothing seemed to feel right after the cavernous dark that was the old med building. The fact that it was still daylight juxtaposed to the literal and metaphorical dark from before jarred _y/n_ in a way that she hadn’t expected. The medical professionals cleared both Spencer and _y/n_ after giving _y/n_ a bandaid for the cut on her face. 

The flight home felt strange as the team tried to decompress. _y/n_ felt a weight of inadequacy like she’d let things happen to her instead of initiating the action herself. And it had all happened so quickly with Jenni. _y/n_ sat with her thoughts at the back of the plane. Now and then she’d peek a glance at Spencer who was spread out across one of the couches sleeping. Sometimes _y/n_ thought that the jet was the only place she saw him sleep. Most of the time he was like a ball of nervous energy just waiting to be let out somehow. _y/n_ would walk with him on Sunday mornings, and he’d talk about how he’d stayed up all night reading a new ancient text online, or how he’d been the last person at the library just as they closed. And during the week if _y/n_ tossed and turned, she’d call Spence up and ask him what he was doing. Or she’d try and think about the most random question, like how many cows there were in Iowa, or what was the shortest river in Europe, and who decided what was a river and what was a stream. He always had an answer for her silly questions. He would talk long enough that she would fall back asleep with her face pressed into the covers and Reid still talking until he was sure she was asleep. Just once, _y/n_ had thought that Spencer had made up some fact or figure just to fill the quiet space in the night. So she could finally rest. She hadn’t asked him about it after. She knew she was just lucky to have him as a friend. Now as Spencer dreamt and she doubted, it felt weird. _y/n_’s train of thought was interrupted as Rossi sat across from her with a small groan. Dave looked at how tired _y/n_ appeared and said, “What’s eating you, kid?” Rossi’s affectionate nickname always brought a smile to _y/n_’s face and this was no exception, except it slipped quickly after. _y/n_ rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and said, “I don't know Rossi. I didn’t feel like a profiler back there. I felt like a kid. What’s the point of all the training and stuff if you feel too scared when you really should be doing your job?” Dave nodded in understanding and said, “_y/n_, we all freeze. All of us. Don’t think you’re some rare exception to that. But when it came to it, you did act. One doesn’t have to feel like a profiler to profile. Nobody was calling Howard Teten a profiler when he came up with the method we use, and yet he still did it. Profiling is less about fancy words and techniques and more about trusting your gut when things get hairy. And you did just that. You realized that provoking the unsub would distract her from Spencer. And I’m sure Dr. Reid would be happy to tell you that he’s relieved he didn’t leave that situation with a permanent mark of Yale or Stanford’s mottos carved into his back.” That had _y/n_ chuckle and Rossi was happy to see her lighten up a bit. The older man stood and just before he moved to take his seat across from Aaron again, he said, “Remember kid, in the end, we’re all just base instincts. Just things filled with wants and needs No one can fight them, not even Spencer Reid.” Rossi patted her shoulder and left her wide-eyed and speechless. Was Rossi, Rossi hitting on her on Spencer's behalf? _y/n_ had to move to the bathroom to not let anyone see how flustered she was at the soft comment. 

In the small space, _y/n_ splashed cold water on her face. She looked into the mirror at her appearance. She’d hoped that she couldn’t be read that easily. She’d hidden her feelings for Spencer from everyone, especially Reid. If he’d caught on, he hadn’t said anything about it. _y/n_ sent up a prayer that no one else had noticed apart from Rossi. She didn’t have the bandwidth to think about it right now and she couldn’t stay holed up in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. _y/n_ took a deep breath, straightened her _y/f/c_ shirt, and then moved back into the cabin of the plane. When she got back to her seat the wave of exhaustion she had been waiting to hit her for the last hour and a half finally did. As she let sleep take her, she wondered if it was possible that Spencer loved her back. She doubted it. When the jet landed back in Quantico, it was dark and sleeting outside. The winter weather just wasn’t ready to let go yet. It wouldn’t for at least another month. As everyone piled into the bullpen, shaking off the cold, Spencer approached _y/n_ and said, “I’ll drive you home if you're ready.” _y/n_ looked up from her go bag and said, “You don’t have to do that Spence. I can take the tube. My place is in the opposite direction from yours.” Reid rolled his eyes and said, “I know that, _y/n_.” It’s not like he hadn’t driven her home every chance he got without it being too obvious that he had a crush on her. They always had this dance of her saying no but then giving in when he’d just wait around her desk. It wasn’t any different this night. Reid didn’t like the idea of _y/n_ taking a bus, and then a long train ride to her home every night. It wasn’t just the high rate of accidents that happened on public transport and a crumbling infrastructure system, but the people she might see there. Reid wasn’t one for catastrophizing but he just didn’t want _y/n_out there where anything could happen to her. His mind flashed to the case and how Jenni had held the scalpel at _y.n_. ; promising to “fix her.” At that moment in the dark, the last thing he was thinking about was himself. The scene was eating at his insides like acid. It took _y/n_ tapping him on the shoulder and saying, “I’m ready now if the offer’s still valid.” Spencer nodded and they both walked out into the night. 

On the twenty-minute drive back to her place there was silence until Reid asked, “What are you doing once you get home?” _y/n_ looked at him with some surprise. He didn’t normally ask her about what she did outside of work. She assumed he just wasn’t interested, thus why she thought he didn’t have feelings for her. _y/n_ replied, “I don’t know. Probably have _y/f/f/f_ delivered and watch _y/f/f/g/m_. I need a good light-hearted distraction after that case.” She then turned the question on him and said, “How about you?” Spencer flipped on the turn signal and smoothly took his car on the wide turn that led to _y/n_’s street. He stole a glance at her and then back at the road before saying, “Probably do some reading. And I need to call my mom. I do it on the second of every month. I have to call her on even days of the month. She gets angry if I don’t.” Hearing the date had something snap in _y/n_. She muttered, “Oh God, it’s the second already?” Spencer looked at her concerned and said, “_y/n_, what’s the matter?” _y/n_ took her hands from her head and said, “I have that lecture to give in two days for Derek. I completely forgot about it with the case.” The lecture was sounding more and more like a pain, especially now that she would have to write it in just two days. Reid said, “I could stay and help you if you like?” _y/n_ nodded her head no and said, “Thanks Spence, but I’ll figure it out. I just gotta have a cup of c/t_ or an energy drink or something.” Even as the word left her, _y/n_’s heart ached. She wanted Reid’s help so much, needed it. But he looked so tired. More than usual. _y/n_ knew the incident in the lab had shaken him up like it had her, but he was just better at hiding it. Also, _y/n_ felt that if they were couped up in her tiny overpriced studio apartment together she’d do something she’d regret. Something that she wouldn’t ever be able to take back. Rossi’s comment on the plane wasn’t helping her think clearly, and she needed a clear head to write this stupid lecture. _y/n_ didn’t notice the little tug of concern on Spence’s lips as he pulled in front of her building. He just said, “Okay, _y/n_. Well, I’ll give you a ring after I call my mom and see how you’re doing. Okay?” _y/n_ nodded and took her bag from Reid’s hand. She very quickly said goodbye and thanked him, as she almost sprinted out of the car. She was beginning to feel a headache come on and if she stayed a moment longer she would invite him and I’d all be over. She couldn’t sacrifice the great friendship she had built with him for a fling that might not pan out. Holed up in her space, _y/n_ let whatever emotions she had flooded over her and she dropped her bag with a thud and crawled into bed for an hour. It was Spencer’s call that got her up and to work with what she assumed was going to be the worst N.A.T. lecturer of all time. 

_y/n_ had shown up at the office with a persistent headache and a half-shod draft of what she hoped she could shape into a lecture by the end of the day. Five hours after her arrival, Spencer was making comments that she didn’t understand and weren’t exactly encouraging sounding. _y/n_ stood and said, “Alright Spence. Let me see it, you’re not annotating Chaucer after all.” Reid looked up at her, pen still in hand. _y/n_ didn’t sound pleased and he wasn't sure why. He handed her lecture back to her and watched her face contort slightly at what he thought were very helpful notes. _y/n_ let out a breath and sat on the edge of Spence’s desk. His comments might be copious and slightly annoying, but he was still offering to help her which she was grateful for. She’d have to say she was sorry for being so snippy, but she didn’t feel a hundred percent and it was showing in her actions. However, the apology never had a chance to be voiced as Reid’s comments began to swim in front of _y/n_’s eyes, the bright and happy voices of Em, JJ, and Garcia cut through the haze. _y/n_ looked over at the group. Emily said, “We’re getting drinks at the bar down the street. Y’all should come with us. It’s past five and we deserve a drink after that case.” _y/n_ opened her mouth to say no, but Penelope cut her off saying, “All work and no play makes _y/n_ a dull girl. Now, do you want to be a dull girl in front of the NATs tomorrow?” _y/n_ shook her head and let out a laugh at Garcia’s logic. As cliche as it was, _y/n_ couldn’t argue with it. The _y/h/c_ed agent put her hands up in surrender and said, “Alright, alright. I’m coming.” That got a cheer from the group. _y/n_ looked over at Spencer and said, “You coming?” Reid wanted to say no, to just keep working for a while longer, but _y/n_’s strange behavior and the pleading look she was giving him had him cave and agree too. _y/n_ dropped her lecture notes on her desk as she grabbed her purse and left with the group. The five agents drove in Emily’s and JJ’s cars to the strip of bars near the Quantico Field office. As everyone clamored into a booth at the iconic South of DC Bar, Garcia said, “I can’t wait for the weather to get better and for it to be light out later. Winter gives me the ick big time.” Everyone laughed and agreed. A waiter came and got their first round of drinks. _y/n_ wasn’t planning on drinking a lot due to her engagement in the morning and Spencer only got water. He wanted to make sure there was at least one person sober to drive them back if need be. _y/n_ stuck to her plans and just had one other drink which was a shot, paid for by Penelope. Garcia, JJ, and Em had finally gotten _y/n_ and Spencer out together, but the plan to get the two, young, agents together wasn’t working as they hoped. The fact that _y/n_ wasn’t drunk enough to ask how her dating life was going to steer the conversion in that direction. Spencer also seemed to have something on his mind as he sipped his water and didn’t seem that invested in the conversation the group was having. Of course, Em, JJ, and Pen couldn’t know that he was replaying the scene from his car over and over again in his head. He wondered if he’d said something to piss _y/n_ off. She’d been acting differently since they’d arrived home. Reid knew he could be blunt, and come off as uncaring, but last night he’d tried at tenderness, and _y/n_’s response seemed to confirm that she wasn’t interested in him like that. Not like he wanted them to be. 

The evening seemed like a bust, as the group closed out and moved toward their cars. They had to park a few streets over as the bar crowd picked up right after work in the inner city. As the group moved toward their vehicles, the sound of five guys in an alley across the road caught the profilers’ attention. _y/n_ looked through the gloom and noticed the men huddled around a woman who seemed to be very drunk, or even drugged. The sight had a hard pit form in _y/n_’s stomach. Rossi had talked about instinct and desire, and _y/n_ knew the men surrounding the helpless women had a bad desire. Desire was one thing, but when it went bad, it went really bad as evidenced by Jenni. _y/n_ wouldn’t stand it. She wasn’t going to let this just happen to a stranger. Emily had seen the same thing and both agents quickly ran across the road avoiding a car. Prentiss shouted, “Hey. get your hands off her. Back off!” The group of men turned. One smiled with terrible teeth and said, “Look fellows, some girls want to join the fun.” _y/n_ could have spat with anger at being called a girl. She held back her fury and said, “You heard my friend, get the fuck off of her.” The apparent leader of the group said, “Well men. Looks like we have a fighter. Try and make me babe.” The tall man couldn’t have expected to be thrown against the wall and away from the woman he’d been harassing. The leader, snapped up in anger for being manhandled even though that was what he’d just been doing himself. The rage surged in him and he stepped forward. He was significantly taller than _y/n_ and it didn’t take much for him to slam _y/n_ into the wall she had pushed him into. As he gripped _y/n_’s _l/m/s_ hair at the base he growled, “You little whore. I’ll show you what happens when a cunt gets in my way.” The man pressed his body to her’s pinning her to the wall. He then grabbed her head and smashed it into the brick wall. If _y/n_ had thought her head hurt before in the office it didn’t even compare on a scale with what she was feeling now. Everything went black for a second and her body slumped against the wall. 

Spencer watched it all happen before he could do anything because the cars now wouldn’t stop coming. He cringed as _y/n_’s face got bashed into the wall. He watched as Emily moved in to help and pulled the guy away before being hit too. Finally, the cars stopped because of the red light up ahead, and Spencer shouted at JJ, “Call the cops,” as he sprinted across the road and past a stalled car. Reid booked it across the road. When he was a foot from the scene, he used the strongest voice he had to say “Federal Agent, break it up right now.” Spencer channeled Derek and Aaron as much as he could, as he pushed one of the men off Emily. The leader looked up and said, “Yeah, yeah beanpole. Show me a badge and I’ll believe you.” Reid let out a heavy breath, pulled out his badge, and flashed it around to the men who were now moving slowly back into the alley. The group noticed as JJ and Garcia ended up on their side of the street, flashing their badges. The last straw was when Emily got up and showed her badge too. The flashing of police lights had the group scatter like flies. JJ stepped forward and helped the woman who had been harassed up and toward the first police car that arrived while Spencer knelt next to _y/n_ and Emily. _y/n_was stirring back to wakefulness and the pain stunned her into groaning. _y/n_ kept her eyes closed as concerned voices floated above her. The sounds of sirens mostly filled her ears. _y/n_ moved a hand to touch her face which was throbbing with a consistent pain down her nose and cartilage beneath it.  _y/n_’s hand got stopped and that firm yet gentle grip finally had her open her eyes. Spencer was holding her hand and said in a worried voice, “Don’t touch your face, _y/n_. I think your nose is broken. Can you breathe through it at all?” _y/n_ took a tentative breath through it and replied, “I can. It hurts, but I can.” Her voice sounded weak and far away. As _y/n_ came more to her senses, her pain level heightened, and she noticed Emily beside her. Prentiss looked as bad as _y/n_ felt and _y/n_ said, “Em, how are you? You okay?” Prentiss shrugged and said, “I’ve felt better, but I’ll survive. Nothing gives me as much satisfaction as scaring some tough guys off. I just wished it ended without us looking like we fell down five flights of stairs.” Prentiss’s comment had _y/n_ chuckle which was a mistake as it hurt like hell the instant _y/n_  started laughing. _y/n_ looked up as JJ’s familiar shoes approached the group on the ground. JJ bent down next to Spencer and asked, “Should I call an ambulance?” Em cut in and said, “Not for me. I’m not going to spend hours in a hospital only to be given some Benadryl and an exorbitant co-pay. I’m not that bad. If it keeps hurting in the morning I’ll go the the ER.” JJ acknowledged Emily’s point and then looked over to _y/n_. _y/n_ was in pain, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought that there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with her apart from her nose. _y/n_ looked from Spencer and then to JJ and said, “I think I’m fine. I can breathe and see straight. Just a bit sore.” Again JJ nodded and said, “Okay, well Hotch is on his way. Garcia called him before we crossed the street and some of the cops went to look for those guys while the others were taking care of the lady we found.” Hearing that Hotch was coming had _y/n_ groan and say, “Hotch is gonna be mad. I shouldn’t have jumped into a scene like that.” Emily chuckled and said, “Well it was pretty impressive, but let me handle him. We’ve all done something like this before. It’s just the first time for you. He’ll have some stern words for you in his office tomorrow, but he’ll understand.” _y/n_ gave a little nod and felt comforted by Emily’s reassurance. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. 

Spencer helped her to her feet after another minute on the cold ground, _y/n_ grunted with the effort, but put on a brave face which was bleeding again. The wound from Jenni had reopened and was oozing blood, along with her nose and a split lip. _y/n_ could taste the iron of her blood as she wiped at her face with her sleeve. _y/n_ leaned heavily on Reid, as she gave a brief statement to the cops and a bit of a longer one to Aaron who had his arms crossed over his chest in a pseudo-disappointed but mainly concerned face. After a half hour, Spencer approached JJ and they had a quiet conversation between them. It ended with JJ handing over her car keys and giving him a pat on the shoulder. _y/n_ was leaning against one of the cop cars, and Spencer approached her with a soft concern. The genius said, “Alright, _y/n_ I’m taking you to the ER.” _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “Can’t you just take me home?” Spence nodded no and replied, “Nope. You don’t have to go to the hospital, but I am having you looked at. If nothing else I need to make sure your nose isn’t broken.” _y/n_ tried a last defense as she said, “But Emily…” Spencer cut her off and said, “Emily is Emily, and Hotch is taking her to the ER too, she just doesn’t know it yet. Now please stop arguing with me, _y/n_.” Whatever _y/n_ was going to say died in her mouth. Spencer’s tone left no room for negotiation. She’d never heard him be so demanding yet comforting at the same time. They walked silently to JJ’s car. Spencer opened the passenger side door for her, before getting in the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and drove toward the nearest clinic. _y/n_ closed her eyes and tried not not sound like she was struggling to breathe or make pained sounds as they drove over speed bumps or potholes. _y/n_ didn’t know if or what to say. She was contemplating how many new things had happened to her this week. How she’d personally been threatened by an unsub, how she’d gotten into another hairy situation this evening. As _y/n_ reflected on the two incidents, she could at least say she had acted decisively on the second occasion. _y/n_ could feel Spencer thinking beside her and she had to ask, “Are you disappointed in me?” _y/n_ didn’t know why she asked, or if she wanted to know the answer, but Spence was her best friend and she didn’t think she could stand not knowing what he was thinking. The heavy silence had _y/n_ squirm in her seat. After another minute and a lot of rewording in Reid’s head, he replied, “I’m not disappointed in you, _y/n_. Just worried. First, there was the case in the lab, and now this. I wish you didn’t jump into things so strongly. But you did the right thing. The brave thing.” Again Spencer was giving her mixed signals. She didn’t know if he was mad at her or proud. Or maybe a mix of both. It was so hard to tell with him and her head was pounding again. Trying to understand what Reid’s core emotion was, she stated, “You would have jumped in too. Emily did.” Spencer sighed deeply and said, “I would have jumped in now. But probably not when was a first-year agent. I know now that I don’t have to physically jump into every situation, but that comes with time.” Reid’s statement only left _y/n_ more confused, so she shut her eyes and mouth and just tried to breathe normally. For a profiler, she didn’t feel that good at reading him right now. 

Spencer was doing his darndest to mask his real emotions, concern, and worry. He’d meant what he said to _y/n_, but he hadn’t meant it to come off as so passive-aggressive. So hot and cold. The issue was he was all hot and soft and wanted to pull _y/n_ into a hug and tell her that she had been so brave, if not cocky for taking on five men at once. It wasn’t the technique he would have used, but she’d moved on instinct, a pure instinct to protect and defend someone in need. He saw her do this over and over and over on the field. She did it with him and it made him love her even more. But _y/n_ was trying to act brave and fight back tears as they got closer to the ER, and he didn’t know how to tell her he cared about her more than anything without telling her he loved her. It wasn’t possible, so he let the silence sit again. Thankfully the small clinic that was nearest to them was only five minutes away, and he pushed the pedal down a bit farther to get _y/n_ the care she claimed she didn’t need. 

Inside the small office, Spencer grabbed an intake packet while _y/n_ handed over her insurance card. The receptionist said, “It should be about thirty minutes. The nurse will call you back when they’re ready for you.” Reid nodded and led _y/n_ to a chair. She had her eyes closed and her head in her hands. The pain was slowly ebbing back into her body as her energy dipped again. Spencer realized that the lights were bothering her, and he set the forms down on the adjacent chair. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over _y/n_’s hunched head and shoulders. _y/n_ felt an instant reprieve as the lights that she was trying to keep out of her view disappeared under a blanket of black. She let out a sigh of relief. Swallowing down her emotions, _y/n_ peaked out from under the coat. Spencer was filling out the tedious form for her and she whispered, “Thanks, Spence.” Spencer looked over to her and said, “Of course, _y/n_.” He patted his shoulder as if saying, “You can rest your head here.” _y/n_ had never heard him use such kindness with her before. He looked out for her, but not like this. She didn’t have the energy to read into anything anymore. She just accepted what was being offered and dropped the jacket over her face again, not caring if she looked silly. _y/n_ also dipped her head onto his warm shoulder, letting the scratching of the pen and the dimmed sound of the TV fill her ears. A half-hour later, _y/n_ got seen by a doctor who informed her that her nose had a minor fracture. The doctor did put two stitches in on her forehead to close up the scar that was much deeper than _y/n_ had expected. _y/n_ tried to pay attention as the medical man gave her care instructions and prescription for a stronger pain relief. He also gave her a large dose of Advil for her to be able to rest that night. Reid checked her out and got her prescription from the nurse at the exit. The tired woman tried to flirt with him, but he didn’t respond. He just wanted to get _y/n_ home safely. 

The ride back was soft as the pain medication started making _y/n_ drowsy. Spencer got her up to her apartment and room. Just as Spencer thought _y/n_ was asleep, _y/n_ said, “Call me tomorrow at eleven so I can get up in time to make that lecture.” Reid wanted to tell her to take a break. He’d give the lecture, but by that time she was already asleep. Reid let out a soft breath. He pulled the covers over _y/n_’s form and turned off the light in her room. Spencer softly slipped out of her room and locked the electronic lock behind him. As he drove JJ’s car back to the liaison’s apartment, he considered his feelings. How he’d watched _y/n_ grow as an agent so far with the BAU. They had just kind of clicked in a way that he hadn’t expected. It had started as early as her first case as she noticed something in his geographic profile that he had missed. As it turned out sometimes Spencer’s attention to tiny details and his expansive knowledge left holes in the bigger picture. Holes that _y/n_ could see and point out. She’d come to him personally to point it out. She didn’t make a big deal of catching something that the infamous Dr. Reid had missed. She didn’t try and show off, she just pointed it out like he was a normal person, like everyone else who made human errors. Since then they had just stuck. They balanced the other out. Spencer sighed as he thought about her battered face, her desire to prove herself again and again like she wasn’t good enough already. That was the problem with liking someone in the department, who had to watch them throw themselves in danger over and over and it killed Reid. That was another reason he had kept his feelings at bay. But tonight something had shifted, and he didn’t know if he could pretend anymore. He’d sleep on it and re-evaluate in the morning. He found this policy worked for almost everything in his life, and he hoped to any God that it would bring clarity the following day. 

As it turned out, _y/n_ didn’t need to have Spencer call her in the morning, as she woke up sore and in pain at 7:00 a.m. She got up and drank a glass of water with her pain meds. She reminded herself that she needed to pick up her prescription as she started making some _c/t_. _y/n_ then moved to the mirror and cringed at the sight of her face. _y/n_ did her best to fight the puffiness with makeup, but even as hard as she tried, no makeup was going to cover everything. The stitches for one couldn’t be touched for a few days, so they stood out like a sore thumb. _y/n_ called Emily and asked if she was coming in that morning. Prentiss replied, “Yup. Hotch wants to talk to us. I forgot to tell you last night. I kind of passed out once I got home.” _y/n_ nodded, accepting the inevitable, and said, “Okay. What time did he say?” Pernitss replied, “Noon. He promised to make it quick.” _y/n_ bit the inside of her mouth, but she’d rather get this unpleasant lecture over with before giving her lecture later in the day. _y/n_ asked, “Can you come pick me up? I want your reassurance before seeing Hotch.” Emily lightly laughed on the other end of the line and said, “You got it. _y/n_. Be there in thirty-ish minutes.” _y/n_ got changed and picked up her work bag. She remembered Spencer and shot him a text as Emily arrived saying that she was up and headed to the office. She also said, “Thanks for your help last night. See you in a few.” _y/n_ still wasn’t sure what last night was between them, a fight? A confession? She couldn’t say, but she was too stressed about the meeting with Hotch to think about it now. 

Hotch’s lecture about jumping into situations without thinking first was stern enough to remind them to not do that again but hinted at a kind of pride that he only showed for his team and no one else. Two hours after that talk _y/n_ was standing in front of the lectern with a sea of NATs sitting in front of her. There were at least two hundred in this class, and somehow giving this lecture now felt more daunting than anything else that had happened that week. Maybe because it was the last big thing she needed to do before the weekend, or that she was a bit overdressed for the occasion, or that the lights were hurting her eyes. The front of the stage was uncomfortably hot with all the lights pointed at her. _y/n_ took one last breath before looking at her useless notes, which she hadn’t looked at since yesterday afternoon. The man that had introduced her had just said that Derek Morgan couldn’t make it today and then said her name and that was it. _y/n_ felt like they deserved a better explanation than that. So she started by saying, “Well, as you all know, Derek Morgan was supposed to be talking to you today. As you can see, I’m not him.” That got a chuckle from a good part of the audience. _y/n_ placed her hand on either side of the lectern and said, “If it’s not clear by Morgan’s absence, and well, my face, a lot of unexpected things can happen in the FBI. And that’s really what your case studies are about. To learn to adapt and observe. You’ve got a month left at the academy and that month is going to go fast, so allow me to tell you what to expect.” _y/n_ looked out at the young and eager faces in front of her. She looked to the back and noticed Spencer standing there. She’d hardly had time to see him today, and it gave her a profound amount of comfort to have him here. _y/n_ relaxed and jumped into her thoughts and experiences with her case studies. She hardly went off her notes and just went on instinct. She didn’t sound rehearsed or like she was trying to be smart. She was just being herself. The person Spencer admired more than anyone at the moment. _y/n_ managed to make it through most of her remarks and felt grateful that the agents in training were paying attention to her while taking notes or nodding along. She detailed how now was the time to make mistakes. How it was better to ask all your questions, even stupid ones, during these exercises and not when you were out on the field. How to tag evidence, and how to look for small and big details in the fake cases they would be given. Just as _y/n_ was about to make her final point and wrap up, a wave of dizziness hit her out of nowhere. _y/n_ stumbled a bit, and suddenly, the lights were so bright, and her jacket felt like it was suffocating her. Not sure what was happening, _y/n_ closed her eyes tight and gripped the lectern tightly. There was a murmur from the NATs. This wasn’t how she wanted her lecture to end, but not thinking of any other choice but ducking behind the stage to get a seat, she said, “Sorry. I’m not feeling so well. My friend and colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid will close out the lecture. Thank you all for your time, and good luck with the last month. I believe all of you have what it takes to be great agents.” There were a few hesitant claps of applause as _y/n_ moved off stage on shaky feet. She was met by the man who had introduced her, and led her to a chair on the side of the stage. He asked if she wanted to go, but she protested and just sat in the dark trying to regain her composure. 

Spencer had watched as _y/n_ swayed unsteadily at the front of the room. His heart leaped in his chest, seeing _y/n_ like this. He hadn’t expected to be called to speak. But _y/n_ had asked, and he moved onto the stage. He quickly introduced himself even though everyone in the audience already knew who he was. Reid looked down at the last page of _y/n_’s notes, which she had sort of been following, and realized most of the page were just his corrections, and suddenly, he understood why she had been so annoyed yesterday morning. His annotations were too much to be helpful. Spence sighed, looked at the students, and then into the wings where _y/n_ was sitting on a chair. Reid started talking, but it wasn’t for the students, at least not wholly. He said, “Being in the FBI isn’t an easy job. I think you all know that now, and if you don’t, well I guess it’t not too late to quit, but what will all have that work been for then? As you head into your case studies, I have one last thing to tell you, and that’s that you need friends now and when you’re on the field. I say this because there’s always something you’ll miss, and if you make friends, they can tell you that and fill in the gaps. You need someone you can call night or day because things will get hard, and you’ll be lost or scared or think you’re not doing enough. You’ll need someone to remind you that you're just as human as everyone else. So as you get sorted into your teams and assigned your cases, get to know your team members. Trust them. I think that’s the best advice I can offer you. Thank you.” With that, Spence exited stage left and replaced the introducer who moved back into the bright light of the stage to dismiss the NATs. Spencer checked in with _y/n_, who said, “Thanks Spence. Sorry to put you on the spot like that.” Reid shook his head and said, “It was nothing. How do you feel, what happened?” _y/n_ swallowed and said, “I don’t know, I just got faint. It’s passed now, I think.” Spencer couldn’t hide his genuine concern for her as he said, “_y/n_, please let me take you to the hospital or something. You shouldn’t be nearly fainting.” _y/n_ looked at him and didn’t think she could bear another two hours in a waiting room. She said, “Spencer, please. If you’ve ever cared about me, can you just take me to _y/l/p_ and then drive me home?” The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Reid stilled at her words and said, “Okay, _y/n_. Whatever you want.” The pair quickly made it to Spencer's car in the lot just outside the NAT training building. 

Once they were inside his car, _y/n_ said, “Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say it like that. I didn’t mean to assume or throw your concern back in your face. You’ve always been so nice to me, and I guess I just saw what I wanted to.” Reid looked at _y/n_ and said, “I love you, _y/n_.” The words astounded _y/n_, and she didn’t know what to say apart from, “What?” Spencer looked at her with the eyes he had last night on the drive back to her apartment and said, “I’ve loved you for a long time, and I didn’t know what to say. I meant everything up there on that stage. You’re my best friend, and you remind me that I’m human, and why I’m doing what I am. I just didn’t say the part about how I’ve been bottling up my feelings for months now. Because I’m a coward when it comes to my feelings. _y/n_ was almost in tears now, and she said, “You’re not a coward Spencer, and if you are, then I am too because I love you too, and I never said anything either.” Spence couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned across the console to embrace _y/n_. He was mindful of her face, and as _y/n_ pressed into him, he relaxed. Feelings were hard. He still didn’t fully understand them, but with _y/n_, he was just human enough to want to embrace them.

______________________________________________________________

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[herlondonboy]

Kinks

Pairings: natasha romanoff x gn!reader / avengers x platonic!reader

Summary: the og 6 hunts a serial killer that attacks people that look like one of their dearly beloved

Warnings: dark!reader, murder, mentions of sex, weird kinks. This was originally written as a Jennifer Jareau fanfic, so its set in a Criminal Minds Universe. No powers or anything.

Word Count: 1.8k

You wondered how long you would be in the conference room before you could leave. You were beginning to get antsy. Sitting around, cooped up all day, waiting to catch the unsub. The serial killer with an obsession for your wife. Natasha wasn’t allowed out of the police station and was under strict watch when they realised that she was who the unsub was fantasising about. You also hadn’t seen her in 25 hours, 26 minutes and 43… 45 seconds.

It was eating you alive to say the least.

“Maybe the unsub isn’t a crazed teenager with weird sexual fantasies.” Bruce suggested, deviating away from your original profile. “There’s one twice a week, right? Well, maybe they are messy. Maybe the unsub really didn’t mean to kill these people and they just got carried away.”

“How does that retract the idea of it being a teenager?” Steve asked, a frown on his face.

“Well, look.” Bruce pointed at the burn marks where the victim had been electrocuted. “Now Tony, can you pull up a picture of how the the Widow Bite stun batons burn people.”

“On it.” Tony nodded and within seconds there was a picture that was almost identical. It was barely noticeable, but the faint outline of a web was there. This person had been in the building.

Those batons your wife designed. She had been nicknamed the Black Widow because she lured men with her looks and voice before bringing them to their demise. She wanted something of her own and the BAU liked the idea and started making them. She was so proud. You were so proud. But now they were being used for evil. She’d never look at them the same again.

“Its a sex thing. We know that they engaged in consensual intercourse before the women’s death. I think this unsub likes when their partners are in pain. They might even have dacryphilia or be a masochist. The baton is probably how they inflict that pain. Nat could’ve turned this person down a while ago and with the news of her going through an adoption, they could’ve erupted. Hence, the trigger.”

“Good work, Bruce.” Steve patted him on the back. “Y/L/N, go ask Nat to write a list of boyfriends and girlfriends that she dated in high school that she kept in touch with, and people who she met in bars.”

You nodded and slowly stood up before making your way to see your wife. You were more than giddy. Hell, you were over to moon you got to hug and kiss the woman you loved more than anything in the world again.

“Distracted, love?” Nat asked when you walked in, practically looking at her with heart eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Natty.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around her waist, pulling her into you. “There’s no one that I love more than you.” She was the reason you woke up in the morning. Without her you’d be nothing. She kept you breathing, you loved for her and her only. You don’t know what you’d do if this unsub got their hands on her. In fact, you’d kill them yourself.

“I could say the same to you, handsome.” Natasha grinned, kissing your cheek.

“Ugh.” You groaned, pushing away from her. “You’re trying to woo me with those gorgeous eyes, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you know me so well.” Nat rolled her eyes. “What are you in for then?”

You blew a raspberry. “I need a list of all ex-boyfriends or possible suitors. Anyone that has approached you in a bar. He wouldn’t have taken it well when you told him you were married. Even descriptions are good.” You stated.

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Of course.” You nodded, handing her the items.

-

“All of these people are clean.” Tony said in shock. “How often does that happen, huh?” He chuckled. You were currently with Natasha, tending to her needs as the rest of the team, Bruce, Steve, Tony, Clint, and Thor. “I guess that just leaves y/l/n.” Tony joked, But something in Clint’s mind clicked.

“A few weeks ago, three or so days before the killings started, Natasha came to me. She said that y/n had asked to do something during their sex. Nat said they pulled out their batons with a foreign smile on their face. Nat shot them down obviously and they never spoke about it again, but I’m sure you guys noticed a change in how they act around Nat, right?”

“Holy shit.” Thor breathed out. This was news. A shock to everyone around. You couldn’t… you wouldn’t. Their sweet y/n? You were the baby of the team. The youngest. Their child. Yet you… How could they be so blind? All of the signs were there. The way your arms would tighten ever so slightly whenever someone so much as looked at Natasha. How distant you had been during the investigation. They were disgusted with the thought that their genius, Anthony Stark’s own protégé, could be so cruel.

The way the knots around the woman’s wrists were tied with such care, shows that you were still the innocent little being, that you didn’t mean to kill them. But they knew what Natasha would think. If there was one thing she hated more than men, it was a cheater. Her mother had cheated on her father and ruined their family dynamic. You had taken Natasha’s heart and ripped it out of her hand and though she didn’t know yet, you were about to punch her in the gut.

You were sat on your phone, scrolling mindlessly through tweets when you were suddenly yanked to your feet. “You have the right to remain silent.” Clint said. He was on your right with Thor on your left.

“Hey, what the hell?” You asked, writhing around in your friend‘s arms.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a caught of law.” Clint said, ignoring you. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

“I know my rights, Jackass. Let me go!” You yelled. you were placed into a chair in an interrogation room rather aggressively before being handcuffed to the table. “Let me out, Assholes! Let me out!” You continued to call out as the door was shut behind Clint.

“Calm down.” Clint said softly. You were shaking in anger. Your eyes were red and there were veins popping out of your neck. It was a scary sight. “We know you killed those people, y/n. Natasha turned you down so you got angry and went for the people that wouldn’t. You’re an attractive person, you take of that ring and everyone wants you, it’s crazy. But Natasha loves you. How could you do that to her?”

“I didn’t do shit.” You sat back in your chair, allowing your breathing to even out. Your fists still clenched and unclenched as did your jaw. Your anger and the look in your eyes was uncanny. Nothing they had ever seen before. “You think i’m what Natasha hates most? You think i’m her mother?” You scoffed before chuckling. “Well, kudos to you, Clinton! You cracked the case. I’ve been having sex with and accidentally murdering people with red hair, that all are 5’4 and that have the same body type as my wife before she doesn’t give me more than i deserve!” You raised your voice, slamming your hand down onto the table.

“I said calm down.” Clint repeated.

“No, i will not calm down! I did not murder those women, now i demand you let me go and allow me to see my wife.” You said. You saw Clint look down in thought and you assumed he heard something through the communications device planted in his ear.

He got up and left the room, shortly swapped with Natasha who had been filled in on everything. “Why did you do it, y/n?” Was the first thing she asked and you gulped. You couldn’t lie to her. You promised you wouldn’t. “Fucking look at me when im talking to you! Why did you do it?” She repeated lowly as you looked up at her. “Are you not going to talk?” She scoffed. Now that you got to look at her you could see the unshed tears in her eyes. It broke your heart.

“You’re too pretty to cry.” You murmured. But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, but it was true. She was gorgeous, and now mascara was running down her face. You wanted to ravish her, to show her that she was the only one you could ever love. Her silent crying just spurred you on. It took a while, but she noticed you were getting horny when she heard you groan and saw you roll your head back in pleasure, rubbing your thighs together.

She jumped up in shock, slamming her hands on the table, making you jump and look up at her through hooded eyes. “You are crazy.” She spat.

“I did it because i love you! I love you unconditionally and yet the second i ask to do something for me you blow up. I didn’t bring it up again. I pushed it down and ignored it. But then Jennifer came along. You looked so similar and she was willing to please me. I could imagine she was you! That you were pleasing me.” You told her.

“How does any of that mean that you love me?” Natasha shook her head.

You ignored her, carrying on. “I took it too far with the electrocutions and killed her. But i apologised. You saw the note. I mourned. I experience the same emotions anyone else does. I am not crazy, Natasha. Im in love.”

It was so hard to believe. You, you of all people. You weren’t a murderer and yet you were categorised as a serial killer. You were a monster. Natasha couldn’t grasp the fact that she was going to raise kids with you. She would’ve taken one out of the adoption centre and placed it right in hell. And just like that, she was crying again. You wanted to beg her not to cry, but she stormed out almost immediately. Well, that could’ve been worse, right? She could’ve murdered you right then and there. Clint could’ve too. He and Natasha were basically siblings. You’d hate to be the one on the receiving side of their wrath. Oh, wait.

You didn’t have enough time go think before you were struck in the face. With the power of a thousand Gods. Your whole body convulsed and the chair slipped from under you as toppled over. The skin of your wrists broke around the metal cuffs and you gasped, collapsing to the ground with your hands up. You looked at the man that you once considered a brother and that once considered you a sibling through teary eyes. “Not so fun when its you crying, huh?” He asked. “Pathetic.”

[scarlettromanov]

What are your favorite scenes to write for BAU? 😁

Ohhh this is such a hard question. Overall I think I really have enjoyed writing the scenes where the reader is in her element. Despite her lack of athletic ambition, she has so many qualities and hobbies that she's great at (ex. video games, drawing, baking, etc.). Wanda and Natasha see just how talented R is, and there's something so sweet about it to write.

Spoilers below (if you haven't read Business as Unusual):

Honorable mention scenes -

The scene where Wanda takes R into her lap when R is really sick, and they watch out the window together as the snow falls from the sky.

The contrast in R meeting Wanda's mother vs. Alexi and Melina.

The entirety of the Governor's Gala Chapter. (Or any scene involving protective WandaNat).

The soft scenes between Nat and R. The progression of their communication/relationship has been so enjoyable to write.

Thank you so much for asking this :)

LMK if ya'll have a favorite scene - I'd love to know!

[ddejavvu]

pls what are your thoughts on topgun bau au.

join top gun night!

i've actually done a bau!reader dating rooster but i've never thought about bau!dagger squad... okay well mav as unit chief just because he's the oldest 🙄 but i'm thinking jake -> derek, rooster -> maybe luke?? i'm not sure he fits one of the preexisting character archetypes </3 nat -> prentiss for suuure, and bob -> reid !! coyote, fanboy, payback, halo, etc etc etc don't exactly fit into the characters on the show but i think they'd be so so so cute and entertaining as profilers :') but the real question is

WHO IS PENELOPE???

[everyonesfavoritepipecleaner]

Cocktails and Confessions

Summary: a night out with the ladies of the BAU leads to more than one spilled secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: fluff (shocker, I know)

Content Warning: alcohol/drinking - think that's it but please let me know if I missed anything

A/N: this is for @reidslibrarybook's 1k celebration!! Congrats Nat, I had so much fun writing for this 🥰

Cards: Kitchen (Season 5), Gold Pen (Drunken Confession), Alvez (Prompt 5: "There's no way that's happening, absolutely not.")

“Another, another!” Penelope chants as she slides the shot glass in front of you. You eye her warily and she piles on, “Come on, last one of the night!”

“You guys are the worst influences I’ve ever met,” you laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling up in the way they only do when you’re truly happy. JJ counts to three as you tap your glasses on the table before knocking them back and grimacing at the burn of the alcohol.

“Hey, with everything we see at work we have to let loose somehow!” Emily says with a wild grin.

You hum in agreement. In the six months you’ve been with the BAU you’ve dealt with some of the most grueling cases of your career. It takes a toll at times, emotionally and physically, but it’s worth it to know you’re doing your part in bringing some of the worst people in the world to justice. And while you couldn’t have asked for a better team to work with, sometimes you still feel like a bit of an outsider. It’s clear they’ve forged strong bonds with one another throughout their years of working together, but nights like these make you remember how openly they’ve welcomed you into their chosen family.

Penelope nudges your shoulder, shaking you from your thoughts, “Y/N, don’t look now, but that gorgeous specimen of a man over there has been making eyes at you all night.”

You cast a cautious glance toward the bar. He’s the textbook definition of handsome with his strong jawline and steely blue eyes, blonde hair perfectly coiffed. You give him a polite smile when he sees you looking his way before turning back to the table.

“Objectively, yes, very hot. Not really my type though,” you remark, raising your eyebrows and taking a sip of your drink.

“Not your type?! If that’s not your type, what is?” Penelope asks, wide-eyed.

“Seriously! I would be all over that if it weren’t for Will,” JJ interjects, her giggles devolving into a fit of hiccups.

You give a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know,” you start, unsuccessful in stopping your mind from drifting to thoughts of Spencer. “I guess someone who’s always there for me, who will put aside what they’re doing to hear about my day. Caring, tender, smart… maybe a little nerdy. Looks don’t matter as much, although I’m definitely more into brunettes. Bonus points for curly hair. Oh! And if it’s a bit longer too—so I can tug on it. Grab a fistful of his hair, pull his head back, kiss his neck—“ you cut yourself off, the alcohol coursing through your veins causing your mouth to run wild alongside your thoughts.

“So… Reid.” Emily smiles devilishly.

“What? No,” you say a bit too quickly.

“Oh my god! You totally like him!” Penelope squeals, practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You two would be the cutest couple! Em, Jayje, we have to make this happen.”

“Penelope, no! There’s no way that’s happening, absolutely not,” you beg. “He’s just a friend, not to mention my coworker. I’m sure he doesn’t think of me that way!”

At this, JJ lets out a small gasp.

“What?” Emily whips toward her.

“Nothing!”

“Oh my god, you know something! That is not a ‘nothing’ face,” Penelope chimes in, scrutinizing JJ’s features. You stare intently too, your interest officially piqued.

“Spencer has a crush on Y/N!” She rushes, eyes wide as she claps a hand over her mouth after the words escape.

“He… he does?” You ask, heart fluttering in your chest.

Emily lets out an exaggerated groan, “Oh my god, of course he does! How did I not see it before?! It’s so obvious!”

“Em, now is not the time to be lamenting your profiling skills—we need details!” Penelope exclaims, emphasizing the syllables of her last words with four quick taps of her palm on the table.

“JJ,” your heartbeat hammers in your ears, “I need you to tell me exactly how you know this. Did he tell you?”

“Yeah… It was that night after the two of you babysat Henry together. You had just left, and he couldn’t stop talking to me and Will about how great you were with him. At one point it just kind of slipped out. He said something like ‘that’s why I like her so much, she’s sweet and considerate and so beautiful too—” her words are cut short by another hiccup, “He didn’t even realize he had said it at first. But as soon as he did he made us promise not to tell you.”

“That was like, three months ago!” You shriek as you let out the breath you weren’t aware you were holding, head spinning from this sudden influx of information. “JJ, I’ve been pining over him practically since I set foot in the bullpen, and you’re telling me I could have been with him this whole time?”

“Well, what are you waiting for now? You have to go tell him how you feel!” Penelope shouts, waving frantically to catch the bartender’s attention to close out your tabs.

“I’ve got the Uber!” Emily offers, already pulling her phone from her bag.

You walk outside and take a deep breath, the dull warmth of the alcohol starting to fade from your veins, overtaken by a rush of pure adrenaline. This was really happening. You were about to go confess your feelings for Spencer Reid.

The drive to his apartment is filled with you finally spilling the details of your crush to your friends—how he always has extra tins of your favorite tea stashed in his desk, how you love the fact that he teaches you something new every day, how he even lets you win against him in chess every now and then. You clamber out as soon as the car comes to a stop, excited energy thrumming through the cool night air as your feet hit the pavement.

You scan the facade and take in the distilled moments, vignettes of different lives, each window offering a glimpse into a unique story. There’s a couple washing dishes at the sink, a cat perched comfortably in a bedroom taking in the night’s views, and then your eyes land on the telltale soft glow of Spencer’s apartment. His silhouette is reclined in the reading chair by the window, the green tint of his walls visible through the sheer curtains. You find a few small pebbles on the sidewalk and toss them at his window, turning to give an elated smile to the girls cheering you on from the car.

There’s a flurry of movement before Spencer draws back the curtain, the look of annoyance on his face morphing into one of confusion and concern when he sees you. He opens the window and shouts, “Y/N? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Spencer! I like you too!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“JJ told me everything! And I like you, Spence—a lot! So much so that I have a hard time thinking about anything else when I’m around you.”

“Hold on, I’m coming down,” he calls.

Your heart beats faster with each passing second until he emerges from his building, awash in the dim glow of the streetlights. As he crosses the lawn to you, his eyes dart to the car and take in the sight. Penelope’s face and hands are pressed eagerly against the window, Emily shoots him a drunken grin accompanied with finger guns, JJ gives him a look that’s somehow a cross between apologetic for spilling his secret but ecstatic at the romantic comedy-esque events unfolding before her.

Spencer turns his attention back to you, “Y/N, are you serious? This—this isn’t some joke you guys are playing on me?”

“Spence,” your heart breaks a little at the implication, “Yes, I like you! I’ve liked you ever since that day in the break room when I asked you why you take so much sugar in your coffee and you launched into that whole explanation of how we’re genetically predisposed to like sweet things, and that sugar was widely regarded as medicine in ancient Greece and Rome.” You roll your eyes to feign annoyance, but can’t keep from smiling fondly at the memory.

“You remembered that?” The concerned wrinkle sitting between his brows finally smooths out, the beginnings of a smitten smile playing on his lips.

“Of course I remember! I remember everything we talk about. Well, almost everything. It’s not like I have your eidetic memory, but when it comes to the people I care about, I remember,” you assure him. The truth is that with him, you find it hard to forget. Every time he absent-mindedly swept his hair out of his eyes or accidentally brushed his arm against yours is seared into your mind, the way one’s mind only works when you’re hopelessly in love.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks.

“Always.”

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says with an intense sincerity, like it’s the only thing he’s capable of thinking at the moment.

“Can I tell you something?” A mischievous grin plays on your face as you take a few steps forward.

“Of course,” he answers, the two of you drawing closer with every breath.

You take his hands in yours and pull him in, “I really want you to kiss me right now.”

A spark ignites, his lips on yours the match that fuels the flame. You’re enveloped in peppermint and the lingering taste of coffee, his hands drifting from their place in yours to cradle your waist. Yours travel to the nape of his neck to pull him ever-closer to you, and what started as a tender kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. When you break apart and open your eyes into his, you peer into a world where your lives are intertwined—woven together so seamlessly, it’s a wonder you had ever known a time without the other.

A series of whoops and high-pitched squeals erupt from the still-parked car and you let out an embarrassed laugh, having been too swept up in the moment to remember your teammates were witnesses to the whole ordeal. You watch as Emily leans in to tell the driver something, then gives you a suggestive grin as the car starts to pull away.

“You know, I’ve told them before that I wish they wouldn’t meddle in my personal life,” Spencer remarks sheepishly, “but this time, I have to admit I’m thankful they did.”

“Me too,” you say with a blissful smile.

He tightens his grip on your waist and plants a kiss on the top of your head, and contentment washes over you, knowing that this is just the first of a lifetime of moments together. And with Spencer by your side, you can’t wait to watch your stories unfold.

as always, thanks so much for reading - hope you enjoyed :)

masterlist | join my taglist

taglist: @behindyourbarrette @alexontheinternet @reidsbookclub @reidsmilf @reidsacademia @notanotherreidgirl @exhaleli @unmitigatedsuperiority

[marvelcriminalhoe]

Paper Rings

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Chapter 1

A Lasting Impression 

i.e. Season 8 Episode 8

Summery: You're first time meeting the team, still a NAT with finishing your probation period with the Counterterrorism Unit. First impressions make for lasting affects.

TW: typical criminal minds case jargon

AN: It is here! My new Aaron Hotchner x Reader series. Stumbling West will be done within the week so I decided to get a head start on my new story for Hotch! Also, Beth doesn’t not exist in this series, sorry. I hope you enjoy it :)

word count: 3,252

Series Masterlist

You’re sitting at your desk, going over some mock cases, when your boss comes into the room, gathering you, and the rest of your teams attention.

“We got an abduction case that happened 2 hours ago. BAU is running point and we will be following their lead. Lets go.”

You look around at the rest of the team as everyone starts to gather their things. You don’t handle abduction cases in the Counterterrorism Unit. Thankfully, one of the other team members asks the question running through your mind.

“Abduction? Why are we being called in?” Jeremy Kockland, asks your unit chief, Logan Walker.

Technically, you're not officially apart of the team. You’re a NAT still, and the FBI has a mandatory probation period of 2 years before you are an official agent, you still have 10 months to go before you get assigned. You’ve been completing your training with the counterterrorism division. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind getting assigned here full time once you're an official agent. You get along with the team and you enjoy the work. But you also know you would probably enjoy the work in any field division.

Walker looks to everyone as you all gather at the elevators, “We do when a bus with 24 kids gets hijacked and disappears.”

Suppose that could be considered an act of terrorism. We don’t know their motives.

Heading into the SUV’s you pull up the case files of all the missing students on your iPad, going over them. You discuss possible targets with the others as you head to the command post set up.

Reaching Central High, the team goes off in different directions. Jeremy heads to the local swat and police on the scene, gathering information from them. Natasha Linken, another SSA on the team, heads to the CARD team that was setting up, while you shadow your boss and SSA Mark Lopez, as they head over to the BAU team.

“Agent Hotchner.” Walker calls out, making a tall, brunette man turn around, a scowl on his face.

“Agent Walker.” The man greets your boss, shaking his hand.

“You remember Agent Lopez, and this is our current NAT.” Walker introduces you.

Agent Hotchner offers you his hand in greeting. As your skin comes into contact with his, you feel a sudden warmth rush from your palm, up your arm, but keep your face neutral, acting as if nothing happened.

That was weird. Think he felt that?
Didn’t act like it. Neither did you.

Once he lets go, dropping his arm to his side, completely unaffected, he turns to the two people next to him, “This is SSA’s Rossi and Blake. Their members of my team.”

You shake both of their hands in a formal greeting, while Mark does it with more familiarity. “We’ll be following your lead.” Walker nods to Agent Hotchner.

“Alright.” Hotchner nods, “Some of my team is staying here to conduct interviews with the parents, while the rest are going to the abduction site.”

Walker turns to Mark, “Lopez, you head to the abduction site with them.” Then turns to you, “We’ll stay here and help conduct the interviews.”

Walker has you go with Agent Rossi to one of the classrooms, interviewing one of the parents. You sit beside him as he conducts the interview, watching and observing as it goes along. You don’t try to insert yourself into the conversation, not wanting to mess up around someone new.

About half way into the second interview a local cop comes into the room, “Agent Rossi.” He beckons him into the hall. You apologize to the parent, letting them know someone will be back in shortly, as you follow Rossi out.

“A body was just discovered.” The local cop says.

Rossi turns to you, eyebrows raised, “Wanna go for a ride, kid?”

Usually, if someone were to call you kid in this job, you would think they were meaning it in a menacing or degrading way, trying to put themselves above you, but you don’t get that from the man in front of you. He isn’t trying to put you down for being young.

“Yeah.” You agree, getting a satisfied nod in return.

You sit in the passenger seat as he drives. You suspect he doesn't like quiet rides, or maybe he is just a curious man. Either way, he doesn't stay silent for long.

“You seem a bit young to have already finished the academy.” And again, you don’t feel he is stating something in a degrading way, just plain curiosity.

Nodding your head, you pull your eye sight from the window, “I’m 22, Sir. Got recruited in with an age waver when I was 20.”
 Rossi whistles, “How smart are you?”

You tilt your head, sending him a confused look that he catches as he glances over. He reiterates his question, “We have a team member that got waved young, he was a genius. If their going to wave it, you have to be special.”

“Mmm.” You hum. You don’t usually enjoy telling people you have such a high IQ, or that you have HSAM. You’ve found, over the years, that most people start defining you by only those things, not allowing you to be anything but the girl that can remember exact dates or has a higher IQ than Einstein. “Maybe they just liked my sense of style and figured they could use less suit pushers.”

Rossi snorts at your bad joke, looking over at you again and properly taking in your outfit. Skinny jeans with holes at the knees, a very faded Zeppelin tee, and a long white cardigan. You were right, you don’t look like an FBI agent. But he has a feeling you dress that way on purpose, that you don't want to look like an agent.

“Who recruited you?” He asks you another question, waiting to see if you'll deflect that one.

“Walker.” You tell him.

The answer only leaves him more confused about you. It’s not uncommon for Unit Chiefs to recruit people to the academy or recruit from it, and it makes sense why you would be completing your training under his unit if he had recruited you. But Rossi has known Walker for many years, and he knows the older man doesn’t take well to the younger generation agents. Getting on his Counterterrorism team is almost as hard as getting on their team. Many people want the chance, but very few actually get it. If Walker saw something in you enough to not only recruit you, but get the age waver for the academy, you must be worth it.

You pull up to the site about 15 minutes later, getting out of the vehicle the same time Rossi does. You stay a few steps behind as he interacts with the highway patrol officers on the scene.

Agent Hotchner arrives to the scene a few minutes after you, in another SUV. Rossi turns to him, “It’s Roy Webster. Suffered two bullet wounds.”

Rossi looks over to you, and you realize he is waiting for you to tell of the wounds. It’s the same look Lopez gives you when you’ve been too quite. You clear your throat, looking to Agent Hotchner, “The first was a clean shot to his left leg. The second in his chest.”

“Why not go for the kill first?” One of the local detectives asks.

“They probably needed him to drive.” Hotchner theorizes.

Rossi looks around, “If they dumped Webster this quickly, I’m sure Carol Roberts isn’t far behind.”

“There’s no way somebody pulled this off alone.” The detective states.

You nodded you head, “It was most likely a partnership.”

Agent Hotchner looks to you, eyebrows raised. You keep from wincing away at his stare. He’s intimidating, and he’s studying you. He talks to the detective, but his eyes are still on you, “One unsub probably controlled the adults and one controlled the kids.”

“Well, why get rid of them before they reached their destination?” The detective asks another question, but an answer gets interrupted when Hotchner’s phone rings.

“What do you got, Garcia?” He answers it.

He puts it on speaker, letting the rest of you hear the ending of her ramblings, “And it turns out that the signal was never disabled, it was just masked. So I sent the coordinates to your phones.”

Rossi pulls his phone out, “This is less than a mile away.”

“Why only take some of the kids?” Walker asks, standing next to Rossi and Hotchner. You found the bus, along with half the kids, at the barn where the coordinates took you.

“Smaller numbers are easier to control.” You supply.

Rossi hums, “If this was a child trafficking ring, they wouldn't have left any of them behind, regardless of the risk.”

“Whatever the reason,” Hotchner supplies, “They only needed 10.”

You ride back with Walker while Rossi takes another SUV with Hotch. Aaron glances over to him in the passenger seat, “How’s the NAT?”

“Hmmm.” Rossi hums, pondering his answer, “She seems pretty smart, quiet though. What did Walker say about her?”

“Not a lot.” He replies, “He was intentionally vague.”

“Seems like a common thing for that team then.” Rossi chuckles.

Aaron nods his head, but doesn't reply. He tells himself that his interest is purely bureaucratic. You're on the way to becoming one of the younger agents of the bureau, and as a unit chief, it’s his job to keep an eye on the new recruits, to find anyone that could be beneficial to the team.

It has nothing, nothing, to do with the warm spark he felt when you shook his hand. It has nothing to do with the fact you are attractive. There are plenty of attractive people. Plenty of attractive people that are age appropriate for him.

No, it has nothing to do with that.

A few hours later, both teams are in one of the class rooms that is being used. Garcia comes into the room, drawing his attention from the case board.

“Hey, so I just got off the phone with the people who produce ‘Gods of Combat.’ Turns out they have six million players worldwide, 40,000 of which are D.C. residents.”

“If they’re capable of this type of violence in real life, do you think we’d see some sort of evidence of it in their gaming history?” Reid questions.

Morgan looks over at him, “What type of evidence?”

Surprising Aaron, you are the one that answers, “He’s talking about the universal online gaming code of conduct. It prevents against stuff like harassing, threatening other players, cyber-bullying, that kind of thing.”

“How’s that going to help us find these kids?” An agent on your team, Kockland, asks.

You open your mouth to answer, but Aaron beats you, “Instead of finding those that play the game, we need to look for people who were kicked out.”

“On average about 6.94% of gamers world wide have been suspended in some capacity. Around 2% of those go on to get permanently banned” You supply, “Based off of the number of players in DC, and subtracting from the number of overall banned players, I would say there is less than 10 in the area.”

Your ramblings remind Aaron of Reid’s. The way you move your hands as you speak and the small smile that graces your lips. Your team doesn’t seem surprised by your fact, but his team is looking at you oddly, making you flustered when you realize, and give an awkward smile.

“Where did you even get that?” Morgan asks you.

Agent Lopez snorts, sending Morgan an amused look, “What? You think your team is the only one with a resident genius?”

Morgan and JJ raise their eyebrows while Blake lets out an impressed sound. Reid looks over to you, “What’s your IQ?”

You tilt your head at him, something Aaron thinks makes you look younger, more innocent, like a puppy, “That’s an odd question to ask someone.”

Garcia gets to work on the information that you supplied, trying to find the unsubs. While the team continues to interrogate you. He’s impressed how well you are at deflecting questions, something you must have experience with.

“You graduated from Harvard right?” Blake supplies, “Professor Jackson in the Psychology department had glowing reviews when you were a student. I remember him mentioning your name a few times.”

“I completed my doctorate there, along with my masters.” You nod at her with a friendly smile.

“What’s your masters in?” Aaron finds himself asking before he can stop himself. But he doesn't regret it when you turn the friendly smile towards him.

“Biochemical engenering.”

If Aaron wasn’t already hiding how impressed he was by you, his eyebrows would be in his hairline, but he keeps his face neutral, offering only a hint of a smile as he nods.

“What’s your IQ?” Reid asks again.

You slide off the table you were sitting on and head towards the door, “I’m going to hit the vending machines.”

JJ stands jogging a bit to catch up, “I’ll go with you.”

Rossi turns his attention to Walker once you're out of the room, “Where did you find her?”

“Where’d you find him?” He nods towards Reid.

“He was left outside the FBI headquarters as a baby.” Rossi jokes.

Walker rolls his eyes, “We got notice of her after she completed a course at Harvard. The NSA were trying to recruit her but when I saw she was getting her Doctorate in Psychology, I thought she would be a better match for the bureau.”

“The NSA tried recruiting her because of a class?” Morgan looks at Walker skeptically.

“Math 55.” Walker supplies.

“Alright.” Morgan says, still comfused, “What’s that?”

“It’s the highest level of math you can take.” Reid tells him, “Graduates of Math 55 are almost always employed by the Government upon completion of the course because they're considered too dangerous to work anywhere else. Specifically, the NSA recruits the most.”

Rossi sucks in a breath, “Wow.”

“She graduated at 20 and I recruited her to the FBI.” Walker informs. “She has potential to be an excellent agent. It would have been waisted at the NSA.”

In a lot of ways, Logan Walker has always reminded Aaron of Gideon, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. He is a very closed off, reserved man, that doesn't appreciate change. He’s old school, more than Aaron himself is. It intrigues him that Walker is so adamant about you being in the FBI, and Aaron has only seen a glimpse of what you can do.

You were extremely helpful during the profile, answering questions quietly to some of the officers that might need a little more explanation about what they meant. He hasn't seen you complain about any of your assignments, doing everything  diligently and as you’re told. You also have the skill of knowing when you should and shouldn't speak. If you hadn't been introduced as a NAT, Aaron would almost assume you were a full agent.

The only thing that would really stop him from making that assessment would be your clothing choice. At first, he believed maybe it was your day off and you got called in without time to change. However, after having been around you the last few hours, he knows that your choice in attire was a conscious one. Not that you don’t look good, but you don’t look like an agent. He stops himself before he can profile why you did that.

You and JJ come back into the room, JJ laughing about something you had said. Aaron can tell that, although you are a little reserved at first, you do open up after awhile. He watches as you pass crackers to Lopez and a sprite to Kockland. They didn’t ask for anything, but they are happy you got them something. Aaron likes that you did that. He files that thought away.

“Spence.” JJ gets his attention, “Her IQ is 181. Don’t worry, you’re still the smartest in the room.”

Everybody laughs at that, including you. Reid gets a bashful smile and his cheeks redden a bit. He turns to you anyway, another question burning in his mind, no doubt, “Do you have an edict memory? Most people with an IQ that high do.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I have HSAM.”

JJ furrows her eyebrows. “What is that?”

“It’s also called Hyperthymesia.” Blake supplies, “It’s a condition that causes people to remember just about everything that has occurred in their life. Every conversation and emotion ever experienced, as well as every person encountered, regardless of how insignificant. It’s extremely rare, with only about 60 people in the world being diagnosed.”

“Wow.” JJ comments, eyes wide, “That must come in handy. Especially in this work.”

Your shrug nonchalantly, “It can definitely help, I suppose.”

You’re good at masking your emotions, but Aaron has been a profiler for a long time. He can see you don’t talk about your rarity often, he stops himself, again, from profiling why.

Aaron watches you pack up your things, the case having rapped up. He saw you console the mother of the boy that didn't make it, after Walker informed her of the news. You didn’t do it because it was your job, but because you actually wanted to. It might be the hardest part of jobs like these, having to inform the family of the ones you couldn't save, but you did it with so much care that Aaron, again, finds himself impressed with your skill.

He forces himself to find a flaw in you, in your performance today. To critique you.

1. Your clothes. You don’t dress like an agent. This could come back and bite you at some point. Stop you from moving up the ranks, if that was a desire of yours. (Though, Aaron doesn't think it is.) 2. You’re quiet. Part of that is because you’re watching and observing, something you should be doing because your still a NAT. But he noticed you didn’t ask a lot of questions, something you also, should do because your a NAT.

Neither of these make you inadequate, however. Both can easily be fixed and mended. He has seen what Walker saw in you, potential to become an incredible agent.

Rossi walks over, stopping beside him, also watching you pack your things. “She’s good. I want one.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips, but he agrees. “She’s going to be good.”

“So you know what you have to do, right?” Rossi inquires of him, looking away from you.

“Already on it.”

Agent Brooksen

I would like to request all of   _____ ______  progress throughout the rest of her probation period be sent over to me until she officially graduates, for reviewing. I also ask for her personnel file to be sent over and for possible assignment to the BAU upon completion of NAT training.

S.S.A Aaron Hotchner Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit Federal Bureau of Investigation Quantico, VA

*********

taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Plot Twist (Ep. 1)

Summary: Life was full of plot twists. You start off with a dream of making a difference in the world, becoming an Avenger. You turn away within arm's reach of your lifelong dream, spurred by the disappointing truth you discovered and deciding to choose a different path. Fate brings you back unexpectedly when the Avengers take a special interest in a powered unsub the BAU is chasing.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Steve Rogers x BAU!Reader (primary), Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader (previous, secondary)

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: 18+ EVENTUAL SMUT. MATURE THEMES. slow burn, enemies to lovers, canon level violence, explicit descriptions of violence and murder, serial killers, strong language

A/N: I told myself I wasn't gonna post this yet until I finished the whole thing, but fuck it. Let me know what you think. Special thanks to @sagechanoafterdark and @gogolucky13 for talking me through when I got stuck on this one.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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Episode 1:

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It would be wonderful to think that the future is unknown and sort of surprising. - Alan Rickman

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"Why does that last name sound familiar?"

Steve Rogers had both his hands on his hips and a deep furrow on his brow as he watched the jet land on the private tarmac in the Compound. Bucky, Sam, and Natasha stood beside him, relaxed but at the same time wary of their approaching visitors.

"At your age, Cap, I'd think every last name would be familiar," Tony snickered as he joined the group, typing rapidly on his phone.

"I thought you weren't going to be part of this mission, Tony," Steve frowned.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm just here to graciously welcome our guests to our humble home."

Natasha snorted, raising an eyebrow at the obviously fake innocent expression on the genius' face. "You're curious about the FBI Team coming."

"Haven't you worked with the FBI before?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the small plane that was slowly getting settled.

"Not with the BAU," Tony shrugged. "I find it fascinating. It's a special unit that specializes in analyzing human behaviour to catch insane criminals. Aren't you curious?"

"I'm more curious about the lead agent," Bucky said as he scratched the stubble on his chin. "I've heard about SSA Y/L/N before. He's apparently one of the best in the history of the Bureau. His skills in combat raised the training requirements and I hear he's ruthless in the field."

"Also highly intelligent, calculating, and praised as having incredible people skills by local authorities they’ve worked with and the families they help," Tony added, a twinkle clearly visible in his eyes.

"You're practically salivating, Tony," Nat chuckled. "You wanna try to recruit him, don't you?"

"I already sent him the offer," Tony smirked.

"We didn't discuss this, Tony," Steve scowled at him, his arms bulging as he crossed them tightly across his broad chest. "We haven't even met the guy."

"They also say he has a temper," Bucky added, slight amusement in his voice.

"We manage fine with Bruce," Tony shrugged. He straightened up as he saw the passengers start to disembark. "Heads up."

One by one the BAU Team disembarked and Earth’s Mightiest watched them carefully with great curiosity. The four passengers had begun their scrutiny of the other team the moment the plane touched down through what they could see out the small windows.

The first one out the plane was Derek Morgan, jogging down the steps with his usual confident swagger. Tony’s eyebrows shot up, clearly pleased with Derek who looked every bit as impressive as he expected. The rumors were clearly founded on truth and Tony was glad he made the offer.

The next one off was Penelope Garcia, bouncing down the steps in an explosion of patterns, color, and what Nat noted were feathers in her hair. She clutched Derek’s outstretched hand as she made the last steps, smiling brightly up at him. The FBI apparently had more personality than they thought.

Next off was Dr. Spencer Reid, squinting at the bright sun and huffing as the wind blew around his already unruly curls. Bucky noted how deceivingly lanky he was with his height and lean build, but he knew that there was muscle beneath the professorial look he had going on. Sam clocked the way his eyes were darting around, carefully taking stock of everything around him.

Last one off was who captured Steve’s attention the most. Professional and looking every bit like a seasoned agent, you moved with an unnatural grace down the steps. He noticed how the rest of the team looked to you and waited, only moving to walk alongside you in a loose formation after you nodded in confirmation. Tony was wrong. They were all wrong.

You were the lead agent.

It became more apparent the closer you got, the confidence in your steps and your steely gaze never wavering. You looked like an alpha among alphas and Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Your chin was lifted slightly and your expression was carefully kept blank, but the fire in your eyes was unmistakable. He didn’t just find you attractive, that was too tame of a word. You were arresting, the type of beauty that warranted a second look and for one to linger.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as his whole body suddenly froze at a realization.

Bucky threw a confused look his way, alerted at his unusual use of expletives. “What’s up, pal?”

“I do know her.”

“How?” Sam frowned.

“I may have attempted to date her.”

“What do you mean attempted?” Nat asked, frowning because she has also been attempting to set him up on dates for years now.

“We kissed and were supposed to go out for coffee. We never did,” he gulped, his throat getting tighter from the nervousness he felt.

“That’s not so bad, pal,” Bucky said, trying to comfort his friend.

“That was right before I failed her on her final SHIELD agent assessment.”

“You did what?” Tony shrieked. He threw his hands in the air in tired resignation. He couldn’t believe how proactive Steve was at screwing him over.

“I’m flattered you still remember me even after 7 years,” you said with a smirk as you and your team came to stand in front of them. Awkward introductions were made before your cheeky smile returned to Steve who was trying his best not to meet your eye. “Nice to see you again, Captain.”

You were clearly enjoying watching them squirm. It wasn’t just that you were a rejected SHIELD agent, but it also rubbed you the wrong way how they requested for this case to be handed over to them. That their reasoning was that the FBI couldn’t possibly handle a case like this. You didn’t like that.

You really didn’t like that.

It was fortunate though that BAU Section Chief Mateo Cruz had the same sentiments. The man had strong-armed his way into turning this into a joint task force and allowed you to take half the team with you. Your Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s parting words to you brought a cocky smirk to curl on your lips.

“Prove them wrong.”

“Uh, about that email I sent you - ”

“I have to respectfully decline, Mr. Stark.”

“Right. Of course. Awesome,” he said quickly as he began to back up out of the room. “Suites are ready for you. I hope you take full advantage of our amenities. I think you’ll particularly enjoy the several olympic sized pools and the interactive gun range. Enjoy your stay!”

You shook your head as the billionaire rushed out of the room. You turned to Natasha who looked to be the only stable person on their side at the moment. “Where can we set up?”

“Don’t you wanna get settled in first?”

“That can wait,” you said as you looked at each member of your team for confirmation. “We’re ready to deliver the profile.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Tying You To Me — Part 3

Summary: Spencer's trip the therapist gives him something to think about. New friendships are made and a new fluffy edition is added to his tiny family of one.

Content Warning: Cursing, a drunken kiss that is rejected, running themes of infidelity and cheating, prose so purple it's Red TV, an unhealthy amount of Taylor Swift references because I decided to write this while crying to Red at 3:00AM on Friday morning.

Word Count: 6500

Author's Note: This chapter turned out much sadder and more angsty than I intended and it's all Taylor Swift's fault. And thank you to @reidslibrarybook i love you Nat :)

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Did The Love Affair Maim You Too?

“So Dr. Reid, what brings you in here today?” Dr. Cruz asks, sitting across from Spencer in her comfortable chair. Her office is decorated with pictures of State Parks and the warm yellow paint makes him feel relaxed. It’s all mind tricks, though. He knows it because he uses it, but when it’s being used on you it feels a little different, “What made you want to go to therapy?” she asks again.

“It’s Spencer, please, I’m just Spencer here,” he corrects, “You know, I think the obvious answer is Rebecca cheating on me with our neighbor”

“But is that why you’re here, Spencer,” Dr. Cruz asks, prompting him to look a little deeper, “And if formality isn’t an issue with you, you can call me Valentina,” she tells him, placing her clipboard on the side table next to her. She’s a little older than Spencer, which is comforting in a way, and reminds him of Penelope.

“No, I guess not,” Spencer says, “I guess, I really don’t know why I’m here. Other than my friends, Luke and Penelope telling me I should have gone after I got out of prison. I mean, I did, but just so I could keep working at the BAU, but I guess that’s not really a good reason to go to therapy,” he says, his thoughts muddling through his mind, “So, I think with everything that happen since then I kind of have felt a little lost,”

“Can you tell me more about that feeling, Spencer?” Valentina asks, “What do you mean by lost?”

Lost. Such a fickle word, Spencer thinks. It’s a vague term that, in Spencer’s case, has a murky history going back nearly 15 years. Has he been lost since he met Gideon and came to the BAU? And what was that, if not filling that father-shaped hole that William left in his heart? Does everything stem from him? His failure as a husband is because he didn’t get to watch what a good husband looks like growing up. But does that excuse Rebecca’s infidelity? Does that make her wrong, right?

“Spencer,” Valentina says, “Spencer, I think you need to separate your professional mind from your personal one,” she suggests, “You can’t think like an agent. You’re treating your situation like a case, and you can’t do that. Not when you’re so emotionally invested in what’s happening,” she tells him, reminding Spencer of the times that he’s gotten way too invested in cases, many of which usually don’t end well or leave him with life-long scars.

“Okay, I can try that,” Spencer says, wishing that turning the part of his mind that’s always on overdrive was easier said than done, “Rebecca, I met her through my friend Derek and his wife Savannah. When I met her, she really seemed like my last chance at happiness. And for what it’s worth, I think we made each other happy, even if it wasn’t for a lifetime like I wished for,”

“So why do you think she was unfaithful?” Valentina asks, “In our last session, we talked about what you went through in prison, but I want you to think about what you mean by lost yourself. Do you think your marriage had anything to do with that?”

He knows the answers that can get him out of here in under three weeks, but like Valentina said, he has to separate the professional from the person. Which is hard, when her personal life is so intertwined with her professional one.

“I think she lost herself too,” Spencer answers, “I love my wife, or loved. Or still love, I’m honestly not really sure, but all I know is that at some point she was the most important person in the world to me. And I thought I was to her, but I guess somewhere along the lines we slipped through the cracks,”

“There’s that word again, Spencer. Lost, you know, when a lot of people come to me saying that they’ve lost themselves two things are the most common: divorce and unemployment. In a way, but are mourning something. You’re mourning the life that you thought you had, Spencer. And that’s okay,” Valentina reassures him.

“I never thought about it like that,” Spencer says, picking at the frayed strands of fabric on his chair. He’s no stranger to grief and loss. But is losing Rebecca the same pain as he felt when he lost Maeve? He feels the heaviness on his chest, but he feels a strange sense of relief too, “I did lose a girlfriend, she, uh, she died. A couple years before I met Rebecca. It feels similar, I suppose,” Spencer says, not fully ready to talk about Maeve with Valentina.

“You’ve been through a lot of loss, Spencer,” she comforts, “Feeling this sense of loss, this sense of uncertainty, after having the rug swept up from your feet, is normal. So you felt lost, Rebecca felt lost, but she cheated,”

“I was married to my work more than I was married to my wife,” Spencer ventures, feeling that familiar tightness in his chest whenever he feels uncomfortable, “And it fucking sucks because all I ever dreamed of is having a family and a partner. I never wanted to be like my dad, to be married to my job, but here I am,”

“So that’s what you fear, turning into your father?” she asks, “And do you think that’s come true? Are you the same man as your dad,”

“Well, no. Maybe, I’m not sure anymore, Dr. Cruz,” Spencer laments, still feeling the lump in his throat as he looks across the small coffee table at his therapist, “And if there’s one thing I hate it’s not knowing the answer,”

“From what you’ve told me about you father, Spencer,” Valentina starts, “You’re nothing like him. Your marriage to Rebecca isn’t like your parents’ marriage. All marriages are different, Spencer,”

Y/N’s ghostly haunted face, not unlike Spencer’s, flashes across his mind’s eye. As much as he can relate to his former neighbor, Spencer doesn’t know what exactly happened behind closed doors. She can’t always be the vengeful woman drinking wine as she kicks her husband out of the house for infidelity, nor can she be the mysterious neighbor with a broken heart at the bar. Maybe she’s lost herself as well, maybe they are just two ghosts standing in the place that was once home.

“I’m scared that I gave up on Rebecca like William gave up on my mom,” Spencer confesses, “Maybe I should have tried harder, spent less time in the office, maybe if I didn’t let her slip through the cracks she wouldn’t have cheated on me,”

“You know that’s not true, Spencer,” Valentina says, “Your marriage ended because Rebecca was unfaithful,”

“Yes, but, what if I tried harder, I could have worked less. I could have done more to save my marriage,”

“Dr. Reid, there’s no buts. Let yourself grieve your marriage without casting blame on yourself. Let yourself mourn the life you dreamt of, but don’t dwell on it. If you dwell on it, it will consume you and then you’ll never move on,”

“Move on?” Spencer asks, his voice hollow and hardly recognizable. In that moment he can pinpoint the exact meaning of lost. He is lost. He feels loss. But, he can’t let it consume him, he knows that. He saw the way that Hotch felt after Haley left him, how he was when she was actually gone. He’s been through that, to some degree, with Maeve.

“How do I do that?”

“Find yourself, Spencer,” Valentia says, “I’m going to give you a little homework,”

Homework. Spencer likes homework, but something tells him that this homework might be a little more difficult than Math 50 at CalTech.

“Have a conversation with a friend. And they can’t be from work,” Valentina tells him, “Go for coffee, a walk, to a museum, but have a conversation with someone. And don’t talk about work, or your divorce. Just be Spencer. No facades, no masks hiding you,”

“A friend?” Spencer says skeptically thinking that this is probably the hardest homework assignment he’s ever gotten.

“Yes, you know that it’s important for us to have identities outside of our marriage and employment. And from what I’ve noticed, you lack in those categories,” Valentina gauges, reading Spencer, not unlike Spencer reading unsubs during interrogations.

“Friends have never been my area of expertise,” Spencer confesses, “I’m not sure how I exactly go about this, but I uh,” he says, wondering if this will be the worst mistake of the year, “I have an idea of someone I can talk to,”

“Then you should call them,” Valentina says, “And next week we will talk about your conversation,”

“My therapist said I should make a friend,” Spencer says, sitting across from Y/N at the cafe table. Aster sleeps in the stroller next to her, silently snoozing as they stare at each, neither brave enough to bring up the elephant in the room.

“A friend,” Y/N deadspans, her eyes playful, yet guarded as she scans Spencer over. He flits his gaze downwards, knowing the situation is awkward for everyone involved.

“Yes, well, outside of work and anyone that Rebecca and I were friendly with during our marriage,” Spencer explains, taking a bite of his muffin as Y/N nods her head, taking in his words.

“So you choose the woman whose ex slept with your ex, and who you hooked-up with too,” She analyzes, catching Spencer off guard with her astute commentary.

“Well,” Spencer says, licking off the sugar from his fingertip, “I don’t really have many friends outside of work as it is,” he tells her, “And you seem like you need a friend too,” he says, venturing to read the woman across from him. It’s easy when he can recognize the way that her smile seems to naturally fall into a frown. He can look into any mirror and know that what they are, are ghosts of who they used to be.

“At least I know that I didn’t accidentally give you the wrong number, Spencer,” Y/N challenges, her true words stinging his cheeks, reminding him of that night, “Look, Spencer, I get it, we were a little buzzed and sad and lonely. We fucked and you didn’t call. I’m a big girl,” she rushes, tapping her fingers against the table, “I’m not mad, Spencer. I just, that night we had, I’m scared it meant more to me than it meant to you,”

It meant something to her? He wouldn't have thought that, he would never think that it could mean something to her, that it could mean something to her like it meant something to him.

“Sex isn’t something that I’ve ever taken lightly, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, daring to hover his hands over her’s, “I’m just, I haven’t had much experience in love or relationships and with all that’s happened with Rebecca, I’m just not sure I can take another heartbreak,” Spencer professes, his words echoing in his ears with the dancing ghosts of Ethan, Maeve, and Rebecca forever haunting his heart.

“So friends,” Y/N says, squeezing his hand, “Friends who occasionally, sometimes, maybe seek to release certain frustrations together,” he offers, laying on the proposition without saying it directly.

A friend with benefits with his neighbor whose husband slept with his wife is a recipe for disaster. But, Spencer can’t deny the way her hand fit into his perfectly his, or the way her eyes glazed over with pleasure when she cried out his name. She wasn’t perfect, she was like him. Maybe fractured hearts need fractured hearts to learn how to heal again.

“I think I can do that, Y/N,” Spencer says, placing her palm facing up on the table and drawing shapes on her skin, “We can figure it out together, Y/N,” he says, offering a smile, that, while it can’t patch up her broken heart, it might glue it back together, leaving the tapestry of jagged lines in its wake.

“Tell me something interesting,” Y/N says, breaking the tension, “I’m not really sure what friends talk about but, tell me something interesting,”

“My godson, Henry, is trying out for the soccer team,” Spencer says, unsure himself as to what to talk about. It doesn’t take much for him to realize that his conversations circle primarily around work, “I think he takes after his mother, she was a soccer player back in high school,”

“Is Uncle Spencer going to be coaching?” Y/N teases, rocking Aster back and forth in the stroller with one hand and lifting the cup of coffee to her lips with her other, “I know for a fact that you’re deceptively athletic, Spencer,”

“Deceptively athletic,” Spencer repeats, feeling his cheeks blush at her insinuation, “I don’t know where you get that idea from. Besides, I don’t know much about soccer,”

She laughs into her drink, her eyes darting up from the rim. He doesn’t know what he said was particularly funny, but neither does he get the impression that Y/N is laughing at him. For the most part, he spent a good portion of his life trying to decode if people were laughing at him or with him. It’s hard for him to decipher their true intention, but right now it’s not.

“What about you?” Spencer asks, “Do you have hobbies, I mean I haven’t had a hobby since I was 10,” he says, thinking back to the last time he played as a little kid.

“I don’t really have time for hobbies,” Y/N answers, “Between the firm and Aster and putting up with James’ shit, it’s hard to find time to enjoy things,” she says sadly.

“I know what you mean,” Spencer says, carrying on the conservation effortlessly. He wonders if it’s always been this easy to talk to people or if he just needed to find the right person to talk with, “I’ve been with the Bureau since I was 22. It’s hard to recognize myself anymore. All I feel like I do is go to work, go home and sleep, and do it all over again,”

“It gets monotonous, you know. But it’s not my job that made me forget who I was, it’s James,” Y/N says, the venom in her voice reminiscent of how she was in the bar all those nights ago. Spencer really can’t think about that night right now, especially when he’s having coffee with a friend in a cafe. A normal Wednesday afternoon with no intentions or seduction.

“I was so sure of who I was at 22. I thought I knew everything,” Spencer ventures, knowing that he’s going directly against Valentina’s advice talking about his doomed marriage and his unhealthy work habits, “How did I know everything at 22, but nothing at 35,”

“You’re starting to make me wish this coffee was a bottle of Vodka,” she says wryly. Spencer feels his cheeks blush, thinking about the last time they talked and shared a couple drinks.

“Well, we both know where that leads,” Spencer comments, finishing the last drop of his coffee, “Not that I regret anything, Y/N,” he assures, hoping that he doesn’t come off like he’s insinuating he regrets what happened between anything. Regret isn’t what he tasted in his mouth when he woke up to an empty bed. Confusion, maybe. Loneliness, definitely.

“I don’t either,” Y/N says quickly, putting her hand over Spencer’s and squeezing gently, “You were there for me in a way that no one else could be, because they wouldn't understand,” she says, helping him understand, a bit at least, all the confusing emotions battling in his mind.

“I would have made you breakfast, you know,” Spencer says, “If you stayed,” he says, when he really wants to say is when you left me.

“Spencer, I’m 32 years old and I’ve been with James forever,” she says, her voice trailing off at the mention of James, “It was very unlike me to do that. It’s been years since I did something like that. If ever,”

“I could tell,”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to look bashful. She occupies her flustered embarrassment by fixing Aster’s already perfectly placed baby blanket. As much as Spencer enjoys watching her get flustered by the memories of their hook-up, he doesn’t want to make her too nervous. After all, in all the years that they were neighbors, he always thought she’d make a good friend. Maybe she will, in a very unconventional way. Then again, Spencer was never one for tradition.

“Well, let’s just say that what I did was not like me,” she says, feeding Aster some cereal stars, the same ones that Henry liked as a baby, “At all,” she adds for emphasis, smiling as Aster nibbles on the cereal, “What about you? What’s something crazy that you’d want to do?”

Besides the revenge cheating, Spencer thinks, keeping that comment to himself. He’s not one to do anything uncharacteristic. Most of his days consist of traveling for work, spending his free time three wheeling after Penelope and Luke, or visiting his mother. All together, he’s pretty boring.

“I always wanted a cat,” Spencer says, “My wife doesn’t like them,”

“How could you not like cats?” Y/N says, “I mean they are so intelligent and self sufficient. And they’re very good companions,” she says, repeating the commonly known benefits of cats.

“I know,” Spencer says, “I had one growing up, Alfie was my best friend when I didn’t have anyone. He helped me get through the nights when I’d be up hearing my parents scream at each other. Or when my mom would think that there were people after us so she’d make us sleep in our basement,” Spencer explains, remembering the comfort he’d feel when Alfie would purr in his arms.

“Your mom is she?” Y/N says, unaware of Spencer’s mother’s condition, “I don’t mean to pry, Spencer. You don’t have to say anything,”

“It’s okay,” Spencer says, “I trust you, Y/N. You’re a very good listener. It’s nice to have a friend,” he tells her, holding her hand just as she held his, “But my mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was little. So growing up was hard, she did her best. She was the best mom she could be. And uh, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's a couple years ago,”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” Y/N says, looking across the table at him, “That’s a lot for a young person to deal with. I’m sure you were an incredibly brave little boy, you’re a very strong man, now,” she says, looking at him with such care in her eyes it makes Spencer want to kiss her.

He has a terrible habit of falling too quick when people are nice to him. Spencer has spent his entire life falling in love in the cruelest way. He’ll fall passively, as if he’s stumbling over all the red flags and warning signs and after one drink in a bar he’s sleeping with his ex-wife’s adulterous partner’s ex-wife. And now he’s staring at someone who’s driveway he’d help shovel when her husband was too drunk or too selfish to help, thinking about how soft her lips were when she kissed him.

Lost in his daydream, Spencer doesn’t notice when Y/N starts packing up her keys and shoving the plastic container of Aster’s cereal into her diaper bag. One of two things must have happened: his staring freaked her out, sending her to run for, what he will admit is probably for the best, the hills or she has an actual emergency. He supposes it’s the former.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Spencer asks, as he watches her get up from her seat and sling on Aster’s diaper bag, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Spencer,” she says, beaming uncharacteristically, “We’re going go get you a cat,” she says, keys in hand, ready to head out the door, leaving Spencer dumbfounded in her wake.

“A cat?” he says skeptically, even though he’ll be the first to admit having a cat again would be nice. In the seconds that it takes for his mind to make the decision, his eyes are busy scanning over Y/N’s face. He can’t let himself stare for too long, he’s already feeling like he’s flying through the freefall, “A cat,” he says, this time more confident.

“A cat,” Y/N confirms, smiling back at Spencer for a moment too long, “Let’s get Spencer a cat,” she says, crouching down to Aster. Her voice raises an octave; her delightful tone drips of nothing, but love and adoration for her daughter. He hates the pang of jealousy the twinges in his heart. He’d never resent Rebecca for the way that their life turned out, but part of him always dreamed of being a father one day.

“Come on, Spencer,” Y/N says, pushing the stroller towards the exit, “there’s a shelter around the corner, I’ll drive because it’s a pain to carry all this, so meet you there?” she says, her eyes and expression looking hopeful to Spencer’s observation skills. And before he can stop himself, he rests a hand on the stoller, stopping Y/N from exiting.

“Nonsense,” he tells her, “Give me the bag, I’ll take it and you got the stroller and Aster. It’s so nice out, we can walk together,” he offers, hoping to extend their conversation for as long as he can milk it. After so long with only his colleagues to talk to, it’s nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially when those people understand his pain so acutely.

“I don’t want to bother you with Aster,” Y/N says, prepared, as it seems, to make things easier for others while in turn making it harder on herself. That’s something that Spencer knows a thing or two about, “She’s sweet, but if she gets fussy it can be a lot,”

“I love babies, Y/N,” Spencer says, crouching down so he’s eyelevel with Aster, “And your daughter is probably the calmest baby I’ve ever seen,”

“Well, it’s your funeral if she starts screaming in the middle of the shelter,” Y/N says, handing him the diaper bag as they head out the door. He chuckles to himself, noticing how easy it is for his ex-neighbor to hide the softer, more vulnerable side of herself in favor of a snarkier, harder exterior.

“I’m actually pretty good with babies,” Spencer says, taking two long strides to catch up with Y/N, “Do you want to hear the story of how I delivered a baby?” he says, unable to contain his smile at the site of Y/N’s bemused expression.

Two hours later, Spencer and Y/N arrived at his apartment with his newly adopted kitten, Aster, and an entire armful of cat toys and pet supplies in tow. The little gray kitten sleeps contently in her new pet carrier. Spencer debated with himself the whole car ride home about what to name the new edition to his family.

“You really didn’t have to come here, Y/N. I appreciate it and all, but I know you probably have better things to do than haul a 10 month old up three flights of stairs,” Spencer says, apologizing for being the reason she’s going out of her way.

“What are friends for, Spencer,” she says nonchalantly as she puts down Aster’s carseat on the floor, “It’s not like we have anything else to do, but go home to an empty apartment,” she adds, reminding them both of their perpetually lonely existence.

It’s certainly a change for Spencer, but a change that Valentina would be happy about, he thinks to himself as they open the packages of cat beds, toys, and food.

“Poppy and you will be very happy together,” Y/N says, smiling as she unzips the pet carrier to get Poppy out, “She’s going to be such a lucky little kitty,” she says, her voice going up to that similar tone she used with Aster back in the cafe.

“You really are such a pretty little kitten,” Y/N coos, rubbing her thumb across the bridge of the kitten’s nose. Poppy purrs happily in Y/N’s hands and Spencer is left wondering if it would be against Valentina’s advice for her to stay over for dinner and maybe into the morning.

He brushes those thoughts away, but it’s difficult when all he can see is Y/N introducing Aster to Poppy and all he can hear is her using that sweet voice to talk to them both.

“You’re a very good mom, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, sitting on the floor with the trio, “I think I need you to write me an advice book,” he jokes, even though he speaks a half-truth.

“I think you’ll be a natural. You’re brilliant and kind and very sweet,” Y/N says, helping to boost his confidence, but taint his heart in the same breath, “You seem like dad material,” she adds, settling comfortably on the floor as she pets a purring Poppy.

“I wanted kids,” Spencer says shyly, approaching a subject he hasn’t dared to tell anyone, “But Rebecca didn’t. And I wasn’t going to make her do something to her body that she didn’t want to. Marriage, as you know all too well, is about sacrifices. And I made that sacrifice a long time ago,” Spencer says, “And now, now I feel like I’d mess a kid up too much,”

“I know that it’s difficult navigating that with a spouse, Spencer. And for what it’s worth, if you end up a cat dad, you’ll be the best cat dad there is,” Y/N says, handing the small kitten to him. Aster’s eyes light up with excitement as she sees Poppy.

“Gentle to kitty,” Spencer says, holding out Poppy for Aster to pet and holding her other hand to show her how to pet the cat properly, “Kitty so soft,” he says, doing his best to mimic the light and airy voice that Y/N uses with her.

“You better stop, Spence,” Y/N says, laughing as she watches Spencer and Aster together, “You’ll make her want a cat if you don’t,” she teases.

“You know, there’s a lot of research done into the theory that raising a child with a pet, particularly a cat, increases their emotional intelligence. Not to mention responsibility and independence,” Spencer says, ready to list off peer viewed articles on the topic if Y/N gives him the word.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Y/N says, picking up Aster’s car seat, “It was a nice day, Spencer. I don’t really remember the last time I actually laughed like that,” she says, “But, Aster and I will get out of your hair now. It’s almost time for her afternoon nap,”

“Okay,” Spencer says, knowing words of understanding come to echo back in the loneliness of his empty apartment, “Of course, but uh, Y/N. Thank you,” he says, his voice turning into a unsure tone he hates. It reminds him of the boy he used to be, not the man who’s been through hell and back.

“It’s what friends are for, neighbor,” Y/N says, swinging the diaper bag on her shoulder. She plants a quick kiss on his cheek. Her lips don’t linger— but the aftershock stings like a tattoo. She doesn’t give him much time to react.

He wants to ask her to stay because he also can’t remember the last time he laughed that hard too. But it doesn’t take a profiler to sense the tension that blankets the room. Maybe it’s the way his heart feels heavy when he hears Y/N’s voice change as she talks to Aster and Poppy. The unmentionable, yet unregettable and unforgettable night they shared follows them around as the mime fake niceties and casual small talk.

“Bye,” Spencer says, smiling as best as he can when all he can think about is the shape of her lips and Valentina's cautionary words and the emptiness of his apartment.

Well, not completely empty.

Still purring in his arms, Poppy wiggles in an effort to free herself. Spencer’s read enough pet owner manuals to know that it’s important for cats to get acclimated to their new environment as soon as possible. It promotes a healthy and happy relationship between pet and owner. He lets Poppy down and sits on the floor with his legs extended outward.

“Hey there, little kitty,” Spencer whispers, petting a single finger across the cat’s tiny back. She looks so small next to his feet, “It looks like it’s just you and me,” he says, sadly.

Poppy attacks his laces, throwing the string between her small paws. Spencer frowns at the sight, wondering darkly to himself how on Earth he, something so broken and damaged, will be able to care for something so wholesome and innocent. He picks her up, smiling as the kitten licks his hand with her sandpaper tongue. She settles down comfortably against his chest, her purring drowning out the dullness in his mind that reminds him that he’s never going to be himself again.

His personal phone hardly ever rings.

Spencer sits up from his crouched position on the couch. Poppy sleeps peacefully on his chest so he does his best to not disturb the kitten. He must have fallen asleep to the dull tones of late night television featuring the clownish jokes and immature humor of a man in an expensive suit and a terrible hairpiece. She prefers the bed, but it’s hard for Spencer waking up in the cold bed after so many years with someone beside him.

The glowing blue light burns his eyes as he looks at his phone. Unable to see the blurry name, Spencer picks up the phone without hesitation.

“Dr. Spencer Reid speaking,” he says, wondering if it’s his mother’s care facility.

“Are you always this formal, Doctor Reid?”

Spencer, sitting up, wakes up Poppy in the process. He pets her in apology as she finds a warm spot on the couch. Spencer’s attention, however, is glued entirely to the woman on the other end of the phone call.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice sounding straggled from sleep, “it’s late,”

“So you are a genius after all,” Y/N whispers into the phone, “there were always rumors on the block about you. And them,” she says, her venomous words dripping with familiarity. He doesn’t want to think about the rumors that circulated his former suburban Hell.

Norman Rockwell would have gone mad there with the smarmy men and their stories of college tailgates and the gossiping women and their stories of their so-called friends. It’s not to say that Spencer wasn’t happy there with Rebecca. He was. And he’d venture to say that Y/N was happy, at one point, with James. Or maybe they played ‘happy’ like little kids play pretend. Fake adults playing house but their shattered hearts were made of real glass- not the kid stuff.

“I’d rather not think about that if that’s okay with you,” Spencer says, his clipped tone revealing that he doesn't particularly care for late night phone calls, “Is there something you needed, Y/N?” he asks, turning off the glowing television. He’s left in the dark with only the moonlight to keep him company.

“You,” she says, sounding dreary despite her obvious attempts at being intriguing. She doesn’t need to be anything but herself for Spencer to want her company. And while Valentina’s words echo in his mind, Spencer can’t help but hear himself in her breaking voice, “I’m texting you my address,” she says, hanging up without waiting for an answer.

His phone buzzes as her name appears on the screen. He is reminded just how much he doesn’t use his personal cell phone when his and Rebecca’s smiling faces appear on the bright screen. Somehow, it’s harder to change the wallpaper than it was to sign the divorce papers.

Spencer glances at Poppy. The kitten is curled on the couch not having to play ‘happy’ she just is. She doesn’t have to worry about being anything, but herself. The twisted thing is that Spencer has only ever felt like his old self when he was with Y/N. Maybe they are chasing ghosts, clinging on to the last hope. Or maybe they’re seeking something beautifully fractured and meant to stitch back together.

--

Spencer wasn’t sure what to expect for Y/N’s apartment. They weren’t close enough neighbors to have spent time in each other’s homes. Even though he’s left wondering if Rebecca has seen more of her old him through James than he ever did. And, on the other hand, did Rebecca bring James into their room, their house, their home. He has to shake the thoughts of the past from his mind so as to not let them sour the present.

He knocks lightly on the walnut door, not wanting to wake Aster. Y/N appears, wearing pajamas, making Spencer’s cardigan and corduroys look very out of place.

“You came!” Y/N whisper-screams, dragging Spencer in by the hand excitedly, “Get in here, neighbor,”

The hallway entrance gives way to a cozy living room with cream colored walls and cherry wood hard floors. She could have only moved into her new place in the last month or so, but somehow she’s made it look like it’s been lived in for years.

“Well, I probably wasn’t going to get much sleep either,” Spencer says, whispering as he watches Y/N move about the room with a kind of energy that could only be described as intense, “Doesn’t look like you get much either,” he ventures, taking in the bright lights, discarded books, and flashing television.

“Nope,” she says, emphasizing the ‘p’ as she plops down on her sofa, “I haven’t slept well in a week,” she adds, carelessly mentioning the unmentionable.

“Stressed induced insomnia is cyclical in some. You’re stressed and anxious and then you can’t sleep. And the lack of sleep only furthers the extent of the insomnia,” Spencer says, so into his facts that he doesn’t even notice that their fingers are intertwined until he lowers his gaze.

His first thought, despite every ounce of his personal reservation, is that her hands look like they were made to be held. Spencer can’t remember the last time someone held his hand gently like this.

“I didn’t invite you over for you to rattle on about sleep deprivation,” Y/N says, her hand breaking from his to trail up his cardigan covered arm. The innocence of the touch long gone and replaced by something less so.

“What did you invite me over for then—”

Her mouth is on his and he can taste the bitter bite of red wine on her tongue. The red flag waves frantically in front of his eyes as Y/N starts moving towards his neck. Her lips dance down his skin, stinging him in its wake. He can feel his head cloud as Y/N’s hands thread in his hair.

“Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice hushed and fragile, “We can’t, Y/N. We can’t. You’re too drunk,”

She doesn’t say anything, but untangles her hands from his hair. Y/N rests her forehead against his. She refuses to meet his eyes, maybe in embarrassment or uncertainty he’s not sure. She’s so close Spencer wonders if he could get drunk from it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes flickering up in a small moment of bravery.

“It’s okay,” Spencer says, understanding her pained voice in a familiarity that no one should recognize, “I understand, Y/N. I understand,” he whispers, placing a kiss on her forehead in what he hopes says more than his words ever could.

The silence in the living room rings in Spencer’s ears. He closes his eyes as he kisses her, preferring to not taste a drunken mistake on her lips.

“Will you stay?” she asks, “Please, I just— I can’t be alone anymore,”

Spencer’s heart can’t break anymore, but if it could she would have just annihilated him. Her eyes meet his in a look that only two broken hearts can truly understand. He nods in response, letting her lead him to her bedroom. His mind churns to thoughts the next all those days ago as the dark bedroom reminds him of his own.

Spencer lets her get comfortable in the bed, finding a space next to her. Y/N’s warm back molds perfectly into his front. He holds her close, wondering for himself as well if the skin to skin closeness will chase away the ghosts. It’s hard to tell though when you’re the ghost and your past is what’s chasing you.

“I see him when I sleep,” her bleakness bleeding out from the blankets, blinds him with reality. All he wants to do is run away from the ghostly girl in his dreams. The girl that smells like Rebecca, that moves like Rebecca, that loves him and holds him like Rebecca.

“It’s okay,” Spencer says, repeating his words and feeling like a broken record in more ways than one, “I see her too,”

“Does she love you like begged her too,” Y/N asks, drawing shapes on his skin, “it’s okay to pretend I’m her,”

If just closes his eyes, maybe he can smell her perfume. But all he can smell is lavender when she wore apple and cinnamon. The soft sheets hug his body, lulling him into a much needed sleep.

Her words shoot to kill, but only because they are true.

“Will you hate me if I pretend that you’re him?” she asks. Maybe he should have expected it. Maybe he should have seen it coming. He can run through all the maybes in his mind until it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“I could never hate you,” Spencer whispers, moving his arms as Y/N flips over in the bed. Their heads line inches apart, eyes looking anyway but forward.

He gives in first, knowing that it might be his Kryptonite, giving into people who will inevitably hurt him. And yet he’s left wondering if a part of him likes the sting of being shoved away. He knows that he can never hate her. But he wonders if he could ever love her.

And as he closes her eyes the only consolation is that the love affair maimed her too.

Taglist | Add Me! | Tell Me What You Thought Here |

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[lyssismagical]

2021 Masterlist

Parkner

Here drink this, you'll feel better - Peter gets drunk at a party, Harley's there to pick up the pieces. (Ft. MJ)

just play along - Peter almost gets kidnapped

three months without you - Peter's gone missing. (Ft. Ned and Harry)

impermanence and milkshakes - Harley doesn't think anything's permanent, it turns out there's an exception

you were never mine - A piece of The Shameless AU (Ft. Harley and his siblings: Abbie, Aspen, Dayton, Sebastian, Jonah, and Bentley, and Harley's mom, Macy)

i wanna be the one you put up a fight for - Peter falls in the Hudson River... again. The consequences are worse than imagined. (Ft. Cassie Lang)

there's too many colors enough to drive all of us insane - Single Dad!Peter struggles when his kids get sick and he ignores his own flu symptoms. He plans to tough it out, but someone's always willing to lend a hand. (Ft. May, and Peter's kids, June, and Benji)

there's no question, no competition, i love you more - Peter and Harley are having a casual day in, CEO's of Stark Industries, living in the penthouse, married and growing old together. Morgan wants advice for proposing to her partner. (Ft. Morgan Stark, Morgan's partner, Saylor, and Morgan and Saylor's puppy, Nova)

we are bittersweet but i'm still stuck knee deep - Peter Parker is depressed. Harley does everything he can. (Ft. Harley's family, Abbie and Macy, and the smalltown folk he grew up with)

harley keener wasn't stupid - Harley stream of consciousness. He'll never be good enough. (Ft. Peter and Tony)

Irondad

a child - Peter stream of consciousness, drowning under the pressure.

i know how much it matters to you - Peter overhears Tony saying that Peter's just an intern, not his kid, and spirals. (Ft. Steve, Natasha, Pepper, May, Ned, and MJ)

rainy days - Peter knows Tony cares about, but Pepper... She must just be putting up with him, right? (Pepper & Peter centric. Ft. Tony and Morgan)

trying, failing, save me, i'm falling - Peter picks a fight with Tony and pushes it too far, grieving May, and Tony says something he regrets only to be called away on a mission. (Ft. Pepper)

twelve years - Peter was kidnapped twelve years ago. Little Drabble. (Ft. the avengers)

stop being so cheesy - Soft Game Night w the Starks

i'm scared, don't go - Peter gets infected with a new strain of anthrax, based on an episode of Criminal Minds, open ending (Ft. Natasha)

MJ/Peter Parker

dependent and fair - MJ breaks a bone while on a date with Peter. She struggles to let him help her. (Ft. May)

Criminal Minds

chamomile and honey - Spencer & Fem BAU Member (reader? Team Member? Unclear). She gets sick, doesn't ask for help. Spencer won't let her suffer on her own.

on your couch - Spencer & Luke or Spencer/Luke. Spencer visits Luke after prison asking for help. (Ft. Roxy ofc)

two feet under - Spencer Post-Revelations stream of consciousness (Ft. Hotch, Derek, JJ, Emily, Garcia, and Tobias)

elephant's memory - Spencer's never had a friend before (Ft. Derek)

so small and so quiet - Snapshots in Spencer's life as he comes to terms with his sexuality (Luke/Spencer if perceived that way. Ft. Diana, William, Derek, Emily, JJ, Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, Luke, Gideon)

AO3, In Progress

now i'm missing your smile - 11 Chapters/????

Irondad & Parkner mainly. Social Media AU during quarantine

Ft. MJ, Ned, Flash, Betty, Cindy, Liz, May, Pepper, Morgan, Harley's Sister Abbie, Cassie, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam, Bruce, Helen Cho,

Ft. Boy Next Door, Singing!Peter, Lots of crying peter and dumbass peter, soft dad tony, Flash Redemption, Done With Everyone's Shit!MJ and Pepper, Harley being DoneTM with superheroes, PUNS, sad feels, pinterest pics, and MORE

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x reader - Broken souls

Part 27:

The avengers were having a catch up meeting with the BAU during their week off when he heard his computer ping.

“What was that?” Garica asked.

“I have a tracker on Miles’ phone. If it had any sort of activity it would give me everything.”

They all crowded around the screen while Tony pulled up the message.

“It’s a message to his hostel.”

“It’s just a bunch of random letters?” Thor said.

“It’s also a location.”

Tony did a bit more typing and finally he brought up a location on the screen with a huge grin on his face.

“The kids smart, he knew that authorities could track it.” Clint said.

“So we can find them?” Reid asked.

Bucky and Hotch both shot up at this, eager looks on their faces as they turned to Tony.

“Yes. We’ll have fury get us a team. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

Everyone rushed away to get ready.

Nat approached the BAU.

“You guys don’t have to come, you can stay here.”

“Thanks for the offer but she’s our family.” Derek said.

“We have to help.” Reid nodded.

Looking at each and every one of them, Nat gave a small nod of her head as he gestured for them to follow.

They did and she lead them to the a large room just full of different weapons.

“You may need something more powerful then.”

The ground looked around, all picking a different kind of weapon before making their way back to the conference room.

Tony was stood there on call to Fury.

“I’ll have a team meet you a few miles away. Get there quickly.”

“Garcia and Reid will stay here with Bruce, they’ll be our eyes and ears out there.” Steve said.

Everyone nodded and made their way to where they had to be.

On the jet, Hotch sat next to bucky, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down.

“Do you think we can bring her back?” He asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Bucky sighed, “but even if we can we have to try stabilise her before we can do anything else.”

Hotch nodded his head, pulling a picture from his pocket.

He ran his thumb over your smiling face and smiled softly to himself.

Bucky looked at the picture, a small smile growing on his face as he pulled a picture of his own from his pocket, showing it to Hotch.

“This was us before the war.”

Hotch gently swapped pictures, looking at the black and white photo of you.

You seemed so different, so pure and innocent.

You wore a huge smile on your face as you sat on your brothers back, holding hands with Steve as you Yus all beamed at the camera.

Sometimes he forgot that you weren’t from this time, you were really from years ago.

A time from when he shouldn’t have even known you.

A time he shouldn’t have even fallen for you.

And that’s what fuelled him even more to find you and bring you home safely.

“What was she like back then?” Hotch asked.

“Honestly she wasn’t so different. She was still as stubborn and as reckless as ever, I had to chase down the street because she had managed to steal one of the armies bikes and was riding it up and down while laughing.”

Both men shared a laugh and swapped stories about you in order to pass the time.

They were nervous, but neither one of them was going to admit that.

As the jet landed, everyone made their way to meet the large group of SHIELD agents.

“Chaos and the teenage boy are not to be harmed unless absolutely needed. You are NOT to kill them, understood?” Steve said.

Everyone nodded and they started to creep their way forward until the building was in sight.

“You guys can back out now.” Clint said.

“This isn’t going to be very pretty.” Wanda nodded.

“We have to help.”

“You’ll go in after with Wanda, Thor and Vision.” Tony whispered.

They nodded and watched everyone creep forward, a small ground of agents staying behind with them.

“On my count.” Steve whispered.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

[starlightstevie]

fics rec / january 2021

And I’m back with another fic rec! There’s some absolute goodies in this month’s rec - I hope you enjoy them as much as I did! Happy reading x

(* is smut)

*tale as old as time (series) by @spacelabrathor Beast!Thor x reader: Thor is a beast, prowling the halls of an empty castle alone, living a life of cold, barren solitude. Villagers visit once yearly to bring him gifts he does not seek, piling valueless trinkets at his gate they feel will keep him appeased. They hate Thor and Thor knows, someday, that they will breach his gates and come for his head. He wonders to himself, often, if he will try to stop them when they do. This year, though, the offering has changed. Thor finds not trinkets at his front gate, but a girl, and then everything begins to change.

COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR by @inthorantine While not officially out yet, I am putting this here because everyone needs to read this! Kait has outdone herself and no, I will not stop talking about this for the next 500 years. Here’s some h/c to keep you going until it comes out! One | Two

*if I love you was a promise by @blueberrythor​ Thor x reader: Thor doesn’t consider himself a jealous man–there aren’t many who could compare to him, especially among mortals. He hasn’t had much reason to acquaint himself with the feeling. But watching you with Steve, even he isn’t immune to the sharp sting of jealousy. 

*The Watching by @opheliadawnwalker3​ Thor x reader (some Loki x reader): Reader has been dating Thor for about a year and is celebrating her first Yuletide on Asgard. But she’s unprepared for certain traditions that are expected of her. Or that these traditions also involve Thor and his companions.

*Desperate Measures by @lancsnerd Thor x reader: When an agent is affected by sex pollen and needs assistance, just how helpful will Thor be?

*passionate & burning by @peachyteabuck​ Thor x reader: You’re busy with working from home, but Thor has other plans for the day.

*my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by @spacelabrathor Frontier!Thor x reader: Thor makes a home and a life for his family out on the rugged frontier of the Old West. The winters are unforgiving but he keeps them safe and warm. At night, their cabin glows with firelight and the warmth of their company. A small slice of their life together.

*survive the summer and its sequel *hungry for me by @peachyteabuck (Dubcon) Thor x reader: A stranger approaches you on a warm summers day.

*the fluffer (series) by @punani​ Masterlist 70′s pornstar!Chris Evans x black!reader: It’s the 70′s and the erotic videos industry is experiencing another boom after the risen popularity in the previous decade. The studio’s are hot, Gemini Flanagan is a brand, and you’re a newly hired assistant at Shaggin’ Studios. Chris takes a liking to you, altering your job description so that you get to work more closely with him. Is this all just physical, or is there something more?

*old flannel by @honeysucklesteve​ Chris x reader: an innocent night of lounging in his old flannel leads to not to innocent touches.

*sunday football by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Chris sits you on his lap as he teaches you all about football.

*grocery run by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Innocently wearing Chris’ shirt leads to you finding out just how much he can’t resist you.

*Captain by @chrissquares Nomad!Steve x reader: You call Steve a name that drives him wild.

*A Birthday Gift by @the-iceni-bitch​ Nomad!Steve x reader: The nomad crew have been holed up with you for months and tensions are high. Nat, being an unrepentant pot stirrer, decides to arrange a pleasant birthday surprise for you.

*let me come home to you (series) by @evansweaters Masterlist Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in amber’s end, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

*mountainside by @honeysucklesteve Nomad!Steve x reader: Steve needs something to give him a release and you do just that.

*steve needs to relax, good thing you’re here by @honeysucklesteve​

*Such a Shame by @angrythingstarlight​​ Steve x reader: You owe him for saving your life, the price is more than you were willing to pay, such a shame you have to force his hand.

*Captain Jealousy by @nony-bear​​ Steve x reader: You and Steve have been keeping your relationship a secret to avoid public backlash for your age difference. However, after watching Steve flirt with a new agent at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties, your jealousy and frustration come to a head.

*A Christmas Compromise by @stargazingfangirl18​ Ransom x reader: Even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, all you wanted for Christmas was Ransom.

*a man of god by @punani Priest!Ransom x reader: You’ve always been a good girl– attending mass regularly, never been touched by yourself or another, and the way that you dress? a naive innocence radiates off of you. even a man of god can’t help himself, not that he puts any effort into refraining from forbidden fruit.

*Naughty or Nice by @sweeterthanthis​ Ransom x reader: Getting caught nibbling on forbidden holiday treats.

*her cherry lips on his whiskey flavoured kiss by @cloudystevie​ Ransom x reader: The moment he met you, he knew.

Not My Style by @chrissquares​ Ransom x reader: With cold weather comes dry lips..

*In Good Hands by @ozarkthedog (Dark) Doctor!Andy Barber x reader: Your usual OBGYN Doctor got called away leaving Dr. Barber to administer your pap exam.

*Drowning by @savior-adriana​ Andy x reader: You love working as Jacob’s tutor in German. Not necessarily because you love the language or the teen’s attitude, but because it means you get to spend time alone with a certain Andy Barber once a week.

*Something Old, Something New by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.

*Beg for Daddy by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: The thought of your mother passed out next door, the other side of your bedroom wall, did nothing to quell the intense hunger you felt for him.

*it’s the right time to roll to me (series) by @blueberrythor Masterlist Bucky x married!reader: Stuck in an unhappy marriage, you find solace in Bucky.

*about last week by @xbuchananbarnes Bucky x reader: You’ve been avoiding Bucky.

*need by @cloudystevie Bucky x reader: You’re horni for Bonky’s metal hand

Season of the Witch by @msmarvelwrites​ Bucky x reader: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

*The Bet (series) by @no-droids Part One | Part Two Poe x reader: There are 3 rules to the bet between you and your x-wing commander: No sex, No touching yourself, No orgasms.

*the shakes by @whistlingwillows Poe x reader: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

Mornings with Modern!Poe by @okay-hotshot Modern!Poe x reader: You and Poe try to have some alone time while you wait for your morning coffee and tea to brew, only to have your child interrupt you and run away yowling.

frigid by @whirlybirbs Mando x reader: Din doesn’t like the ocean. You’re soaked.

Getting vulnerable with Mando by @cptnbvcks

*men of the bau: kinks by @luciilferss​

open road by @gayprentiss Emily Prentiss x JJ Jareau: After retiring from the BAU, JJ and Emily decide to forgo an apartment in favor of an old sprinter van.

*Teacher’s Pet by @imagining-in-the-margins Professor!Reid x reader: There are only a few reasons to sign up for Criminal Psychology. You could be like the reasonable students and join the class because you are genuinely interested in the material, or you could be like the rest of us. That is, you could enroll in the class because the professor is a fine piece of ass fresh out of prison.

*Spencer taking you in the library by @spenciebabie

*of terrible coffee and late-night rides by @venusbarnes Hotch x reader: A collection of moments throughout your relationship with one Aaron Hotchner.

*fragrance by @whistlingwillows College!Hotch x reader: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

*bitter end (series) by @whistlingwillows Masterlist Hotch x reader: Author Sarah Dessen wrote, “Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend.”

*Beard Kink by @reidsexualwriting Hotch x reader: Hotch with a beard has you feeling all types of ways.

*Lunch break by @arganfics Hotch x reader: You help Hotch relax after a tough day.

*Early Mornings by @mrvltwimagines Hotch x reader: The very rare mornings where you wake up and your boyfriend was still home and in bed were definitely cherished by you.

*Do you like that? Being in control? by @writefasttalkevenfaster Hotch x reader: You decide that Hotch needs a break from being in charge.

*Waking up Hotch with a blowjob by @writefasttalkevenfaster

Taking a day off with Hotch by @ssahoodrathotchner

*eat until your blood sings by @peachyteabuck Tony Stark x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Clint Barton x Thor Odinson x reader: Gangbang with the Avengers.

*Anakin Skywalker has a big dick by @anakinswhore

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[winterscaptain]

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?” 

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile. 

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement. 

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…” 

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask. 

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.” 

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?” 

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship. 

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you. 

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?” 

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire. 

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you. 

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents. 

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner. 

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure. 

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other. 

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall. 

This is fun. 

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.” 

+++. 

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU. 

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment. 

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.” 

That doesn’t sound good. 

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates. 

No pressure. 

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.” 

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.” 

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales. 

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side. 

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.” 

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss. 

What the fuck? 

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which. 

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are. 

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch. 

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes. 

Not what I expected.

What did you expect? 

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe? 

Shut up. 

He’s handsome. 

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.” 

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.” 

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?” 

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it. 

It might be. 

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless. 

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner. 

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much. 

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen. 

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. 

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?” 

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you. 

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely. 

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.” 

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow. 

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.” 

That pulls a laugh from you. 

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.” 

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room. 

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details. 

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places. 

He wants them found, and fast. 

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors? 

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.” 

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin. 

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs. 

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat. 

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do. 

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch. 

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way. 

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.” 

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.” 

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable. 

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical. 

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -” 

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.” 

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.” 

It’s not a question. 

You’re confused. 

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.” 

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for. 

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made. 

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.” 

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them. 

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long. 

To your credit, you ignore them. 

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot. 

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else. 

“I’m liking it,” you reply. 

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.” 

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.” 

“I am terrified.” 

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -” 

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.” 

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.” 

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.” 

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.” 

“What’s the other half?” 

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.” 

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office. 

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime. 

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files. 

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.” 

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head. 

“Then...what?” 

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.” 

+++

“Hey, Derek?” 

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice. 

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?” 

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?” 

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.” 

You wait on him, watching him watch the road. 

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.” 

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp. 

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.” 

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.” 

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.” 

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch? 

Because he’s the unit chief. 

I know but…

Don’t read into it. 

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed. 

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.” 

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk. 

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure. 

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on. 

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going. 

There’s nothing to complain about. 

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative. 

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after. 

It’s not in their nature, or his. 

He starts to type. 

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon. 

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates. 

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny. 

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about. 

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing. 

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past. 

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same. 

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute. 

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet. 

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work. 

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent. 

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings. 

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic. 

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.”  He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case. 

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?” 

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch. 

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after. 

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried. 

“Too long,” he supplies. 

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair. 

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression. 

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials. 

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up. 

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork. 

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head). 

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning. 

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file. 

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself. 

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners. 

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…” 

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Good job in the briefing, today.” 

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table. 

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.” 

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch. 

Success. 

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.” 

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.” 

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.” 

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.” 

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.” 

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip. 

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?” 

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. - 

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz. 

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.” 

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?” 

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -” 

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.” 

“Good.” 

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -” 

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.” 

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner. 

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you. 

Maybe you could just get used to this place.   

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink. 

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep. 

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon. 

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light. 

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife. 

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “ 

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...” 

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.” 

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.  

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation. 

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity. 

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.” 

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone. 

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent. 

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.” 

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can. 

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.” 

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it. 

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.” 

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure. 

You are sure, though, that this was a test. 

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense. 

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.” 

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?” 

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.” 

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable. 

Hotch is...safe. Somehow. 

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.” 

“What?” 

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?” 

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.” 

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file. 

“He’s right.” 

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?” 

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.” 

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.” 

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in. 

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook. 

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised. 

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -” 

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone. 

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?” 

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.” 

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk. 

She calls him Aaron. 

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name. 

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted. 

Aaron. 

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can. 

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.” 

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it? 

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting. 

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time. 

None of your business. 

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again. 

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport. 

You can do this. 

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.” 

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?” 

Humor. Play off her disappointment. 

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.” 

To your surprise, she laughs a little. 

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering. 

Success. 

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?” 

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues - 

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.” 

“Of course.” 

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing. 

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?” 

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask. 

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room. 

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look up. 

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.” 

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.” 

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.” 

This is above my pay grade. 

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -” 

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?” 

He shakes his head. “Any advice?” 

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade. 

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate. 

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles. 

Separate from the things that make him human. 

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home. 

It must be lonely. 

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally. 

Well, all except Emily. 

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you. 

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words. 

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say. 

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?” 

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.” 

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear. 

Another part of you already knows the answer. 

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you. 

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board. 

“What’s with that?” 

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.” 

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.” 

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.” 

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.” 

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread. 

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself. 

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly. 

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down. 

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months. 

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. 

I live in a circus. 

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again. 

Fuck it. 

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate. 

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” 

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.” 

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body. 

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?” 

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.” 

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board. 

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice. 

You turn. “Yeah?” 

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room. 

“Did she ever what?” 

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.” 

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door. 

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily. 

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before. 

This isn’t good. 

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense. 

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley. 

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours. 

She texts back after a minute. 

5:43pm Thanks. 

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case. 

Your eyes wander across the cabin. 

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window. 

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading. 

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched. 

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails. 

“Emily.” 

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding. 

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history. 

You know better. It’s just clouds. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny. 

5:58pm How’s it going? 

You huff a little laugh down your nose. 

5:58pm Rough day. 

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?” 

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.” 

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.” 

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze. 

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You should go, if she’s offering.” 

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.” 

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. 

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps. 

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs. 

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel. 

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.” 

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell. 

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch. 

“What happened?” 

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.” 

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?” 

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.” 

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.” 

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.” 

“How’s your team?” 

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…” 

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country. 

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?” 

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.” 

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder. 

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark. 

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net. 

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?” 

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere. 

Weird. 

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door. 

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little. 

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?” 

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off. 

Far from it. 

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.” 

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile. 

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.” 

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?” 

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.” 

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

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[mosshead-lover]

The Act of LordE: Part-13

Crumpled Confessions

~ Bakugou & Izuku x Reader

Summary: [y/n] moves to her dream city having abundant hopes. Her encounter with Katsuki Bakugou, sends unsettling ripples through her life. Determined to earn an apology for her boyfriend, Izuku Midoriya, she gets into a game with Katsuki. Will the game remain a simple game even at the stake of her love life?

<<Previous

A/n: You will enjoy this better if you have read the previous parts before! ^^

Hope you peeps are keeping safe. Kacchan ended up cofessing over a written note? Lol don’t hate me.

- Bau

Part-1 | Part-2 | Part-3 | Part-4 | Part-5 | Part-6 | Part-7 | Part-8 | Part-9 | Part-10|Part-11| Part-12|

--Start--

Months passed. All of [y/n]'s attempts of reaching Izuku went in futile. It was highly unnatural of him. Izuku was anything but the person who didn't clarify differences. Eventually, [y/n] had given up. Her daily routine was mundane.

'Do what's needed for survival and spend the rest of the time locked up in the house.'

She didn't even try getting out of it cause she felt like she didn't deserve to be happy. Not after what she put Izuku through. Not after ruining their friendship for Katsuki and him. She felt responsible for making the very forgiving Izuku cold as Ice. She felt responsible for breaking down Katsuki's spirit. The tension between the two top rising heroes was not so subtle. Those who knew. Knew. Those who didn't; come up with a bunch of theories.

Izuku meant to avoid [y/n] only for a few days. He thought he deserved some time away. Some time alone to sort his thoughts and feelings before having a conversation with her. But, every morning, he woke up and thought,

'I need another day.'

He could never come to terms with reality or move on. His heart was stagnant.

Katsuki didn't speak much to Izuku since the day they had that long conversation. Unlike earlier, Nor Izuku showed any friendly gestures. Katsuki seemed not to care but was dying to know how things were between Deku and her. He wanted to know if everything was sorted. He needed to know if she was all right. He tried getting it out of Aya but, no luck. She refused to say anything and had snapped, saying he had gone too far this time. Kirishima was taken aback. His usual softspoken girlfriend snapped at his ever fierce best friend and, Kachan didn't utter a word.

One snowy evening...

"Katsuki!"

"Long time. How are you?"

Katsuki moved away from the door, letting go of the piece of paper in his pocket. He brought his hands together, rubbing to keep them warm.

"What are you doing here?"

"I am good too. Thanks for asking."

[y/n] unlocked the door and gestured him to get in. She set things down and poured herself a glass of water.

"Let me fix you up with a decaf."

Katsuki was already on the way to the kitchen.

"You look tired. Let me do it."

He didn't wait for the answer. When he turned back to make sure she wasn't following him in, he was assured with a smile. Not as bright as it used to be, but a smile regardless.

They drank their drinks in silence. Katsuki saw a pile of beer bottles lying in the corner and decided not to bring up alcohol although, he desperately needed some, to loosen up. It took Aya's constant questioning and nagging to finally break his shell and confess his love for [y/n]. Although he hated himself for it, he felt at ease after saying it out loud. It felt real. Aya promised to never bring it up. Yet, she kept hinting to him about what he should do next. He knew it too. He had to express his feelings somehow regardless of how [y/n] would take it. He had spent one whole week preparing his confession. Count less crumpled papers and countless discarded notes. He carefully wrote down every word of every sentence he was about to say. He had made enough mistakes of letting his arrogance get in the way. He wanted to do this right. This had to go well.

"So, how's college?" Katsuki finally broke the silence.

"It's good." [y/n] stuck to the mundane response. After few seconds of silence, She felt bad for being cold and continued the conversation.

"Does Lime Punch still serve lemonade to after every arrest?"

"He does!" Katsuki chucked and continued.

"He has improvised, says 'You have been served' as the cops drag the convict."

"Oh yes! I saw it on the TV. He might as well serve lemonade to the convict!"

[y/n] let out a gentle laugh.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Katsuki shrugged, smiling instinctively, absorbing the sound of her laughter.

Katsuki meant to cook something nice, but her fridge was empty. And in the bag, there was nothing except more beer and some instant ramen. They stuck to ramen. Contrary to Katsuki's expectations, [y/n] seemed to have moved on from the past, as she never mentioned the bet or the night. Yet, she was suffering, which made it even more difficult for him to do what he had come for.

It was time to leave. Katsuki was at door.

"Good night." [y/n] waved and pushed the door.

"WAIT!" Katshuki held the door halfway.

He reached his pocket and took out a crumpled paper.

"C..could you throw this away for me?"

Puzzled, [y/n] took it.

"You might wanna read it first."

[y/n] tilted her head, still confused.

"W..will you?" Katsuki's hand still firmly placed on the half-closed door, his gaze intense.

"Sure!" was [y/n]'s reply.

It took [y/n] a few sentences to get used to Katsuki's calligraphy. There were many strike throughs and additions. Some words rounded and some underlined. It was all jumbled, series of arrows serving as a guide to form an order. Neglecting all the chaos, [y/n] read.

———————————————————————

I hate you for appearing in front of me as the clock struck twelve. I hate myself for giving in to those stupid guys words and kissing you to prove something. I hate myself for thinking that I gained something from that when in reality, I had lost miserably. I kept trying to take it back, only to get down in a path of bad decisions streak. Now that I look back, I don't know what I was up to. I was trying to get you and pushing you away. It was bound to end in a disaster as it did. I hate that we can't start over. I hate it that a mere apology won't do anything. Regardless. I am going to.

In an attempt to win you, I have done things that only dragged all of us down. I regret it every day. I wasn't thinking straight. I ignited something that burned down happiness for you, Deku and me. I don't know how things are between you and him. I will not let go without a fight.

[first name] [last name], I am what they call heads over heels for you. If you are willing to give me a chance, join me at Tsukiji Bridge to watch the sunset on new year's eve.

<Say goodnight and leave>

———————————————————————-

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[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Plot Twist (Ep. 3)

Summary: Life was full of plot twists. You start off with a dream of making a difference in the world, becoming an Avenger. You turn away within arm's reach of your lifelong dream, spurred by the disappointing truth you discovered and deciding to choose a different path. Fate brings you back unexpectedly when the Avengers take a special interest in a powered unsub the BAU is chasing.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Steve Rogers x BAU!Reader (primary), Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader (previous, secondary)

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: 18+ EVENTUAL SMUT. MATURE THEMES. slow burn, enemies to lovers, canon level violence, explicit descriptions of violence and murder, serial killers, strong language, Steve is still an ass and will still be for a while, some angst and hard truths

A/N: I couldn't resist not posting it already. I personally love this chapter.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Episode 3:

-----------------

It's dangerous to think of yourself as a hero and someone else as a villain. It gets in the way of empathy. - Megan Ganz

-----------------

You abandoned your stare down with Steve in favor of jumping back into the case with cold professionalism. Whatever his issues were with your team, that would have to wait. Saving people’s lives took precedence and you already lost another one to this maniac. You divided up the tasks as soon as Garcia said that another body had been found.

Morgan would go with you to the crime scene along with Steve and Sam. Reid, Garcia, Bucky, and Nat would stay to go over the information of the new victim. You needed to find the motivation and victim criteria that tied them all together in order to catch this unsub. Thankfully Steve and Sam took a separate car and you were able to use the time apart to calm the urge to shoot the Captain in the face. He’s been unnecessarily rude since you all arrived and you suspected that there had to be something more to it, but that will have to be a problem for later.

Getting out of the car, you promptly showed your credentials to the police officers manning the barricade. He nodded at you and Morgan, but you saw the scowl that settled on his face at the sight of the Avengers with you. You shared a knowing look with Morgan as you made your way to the body that was farther inside the alley.

“Not used to people looking at you guys with anything less than gratitude and adoration?” you smirked at Sam, who was looking like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sam was a decent guy as far as you could tell and you chose to not give him too hard of a time, but he needed to hear the truth. “The Avengers have saved the world more times than should even be necessary, but it’s always us downstairs who have to deal with the aftermath.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, halting his steps. You stopped too and faced him, a small sad smile on your lips.

“What do you think happens after you destroy a city protecting our sovereignty, Sam?”

Sam looked at you with confusion, obviously he’s never thought about it and why would he? Why would any of them? They would be exhausted, injured, dealing with their own version of paperwork, or already moving on to the next big fight. And the fights were always big. Those trivial things were below them and that was exactly why the rest of the justice system hated them.

“Crime rates triple afterwards, Sam. Riots, arson, robberies, murder. You name it. The moment right after you send packing the villain of the week is when that place is the most vulnerable,” you said, purposely making your tone more gentle. You weren’t saying this to hurt him. “Every single cop, firefighter, paramedic, and volunteer is out there dealing with the damage and helping anyone who got caught in the crossfire. Perfect opportunity to rape and shoot up your neighbor.”

“I had no idea,” he mumbled, looking horrified and conflicted at the same time.

“How would you? None of you ever stick around long enough to see it.” You continued walking again and felt the need to somehow comfort him a little. “Don’t worry, Sam. Nobody actually blames you for it. We’re grateful for what you do really. It just gets hard when we’re trying to pick up the pieces after.”

He nodded at you, but you could see on his face that it clearly bothered him. You felt a tinge of guilt for bursting his bubble, but that was reality. Reality wasn’t pretty and the harshness of it was written all over Steve’s face when he physically recoiled after one glimpse of the dead body. Sam quickly followed suit, shaking his head vigorously as if it would erase the image in his mind. Morgan scoffed and you shrugged as you approached with your demeanor unflinching, crouching down to have a closer look.

“Looks like it’s the same MO. Multiple stab wounds definitely, but we’ll need to wait for the ME report to get more detail,” you said as you pulled out the disposable gloves that you always had in your jacket pocket.

You turned the victim's arm slightly to see better the words carved there. Steve watched a good distance away, his stomach churning but still feeling in awe at how calm you were faced with this gruesome scene. It was a wonder to him how you and Morgan were unbothered as you assessed the body and shared observations. How could you not even flinch? He didn’t know that you had seen far worse.

“Ante-mortem,” Morgan said, referring to the words on the victim’s arm.

“Victim was still alive when he did it,” you nodded. “Same as the others.”

“It’s left almost out in the open this time. They had to practically tape off the entire block,” Morgan said as he looked around the area. “The chef in the bakery upfront saw the body when he was throwing out the garbage.”

“He’s definitely gotten more brazen. He’s dumping them in broad daylight now and his cooling period has gotten shorter. Probably because we disrupted his last one. I’m willing to bet that he’s already hunting someone else right now,” you agreed, but your frown was deepening as you thought. “But why New York? Why now?”

“I don’t know, but it’s lucky we were already here,” he muttered before turning toward the cops to get more information.

Was it? Was it really luck?

The gears in your mind were turning and trying to grasp at a vague idea. Something was off. Something in your gut was warning you. You chewed on your lower lip as you went to where the two soldiers were, a habit that Steve remembered you always did when you were deep in thought and you were feeling unsure.

“Is it him?” Sam asked.

“No doubt it’s him. The signature looks to be an exact match, but we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

You whipped your phone out and sent a quick text to Garcia. They would need to get a headstart. This victim had thrown the profile out the window. They needed to find that connection now more than ever.

“The victim is male.”

“How does that make a difference?” Steve asked, clearly still uncomfortable with how near they were to an actual dead body.

“It makes all the difference, Cap. Once an unsub crosses gender lines that means it’s really the motivation to his killings that’s the key to finding him. There’s a very specific reason why he’s killing. His victims and locations are already all over the place,” you explained.

“It makes things more complicated.”

You were surprised that there was no trace of aggression in his voice this time. He wasn’t rudely questioning your findings. It sounded almost like he was agreeing with you. I guess a dead body was what he needed to sober him up to not be a douche.

“Morgan’s going to go to the precinct to talk more to the local PD and put a rush on the ME report. I need to go back to the Compound and hash this out with my team.”

“I’d like to stay and help Morgan if that’s okay with you,” Sam volunteered to your surprise. There was a determined set to his chin, the kind that said he wanted to do more this time. He wanted to do better.

You smiled and nodded at him, no longer feeling guilty about your earlier words to him. This meant though that you were stuck with Steve. The car ride back to the Compound was awkward to say the least, only momentarily broken when you made a stop to buy food for everyone.

“How do you do it?” Your eyebrow rose as you continued to drive, taken aback that he would choose to break the ice with this question. “How do you deal with this as your job?”

The Avengers have faced plenty of horrors in their line of work, but the ones that you faced were different. It wasn’t that one was more horrific than the other, it was just different. It was unsettling because this was everyday life that was disrupted. It was disturbing because a big part of your job revolved around victims and not just the bad guy. This was someone’s parent, sibling, child. This was a life taken too soon by someone who saw no value in it, perhaps even took joy in taking it. This feels more personal and a little too close to home.

“I threw up and cried a little when I saw my first body. All things considered, you and Sam did much better than I did,” you said with a dark chuckle, choosing humor to lighten the somber mood that was suffocating the car.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve seen. I don’t even want to,” he gulped, his throat suddenly feeling tight. “How do you go to work everyday knowing that’s what you’re going to see?”

You chewed on your lip again, trying to decide between honesty and a sarcastic quip. You sighed, your grip on the steering wheel relaxing a bit. “There are good days too, Cap. There are days that we save a victim just before it’s too late. There are days that we get to return a child to his parents. There are days we get to give justice to people who were too scared to trust authorities at first. There are days that we get to tell victims that they’re safe now.”

He watched you as you spoke, taking in the subtle changes in your expression. There was a warmth in your voice as you told him about the good parts of your job. There was happiness and contentment in your eyes, haunted as they were by all that you’ve seen. There was pride there too and he thought that you rightly should be.

But still he couldn't have you on this case.

"I still think you shouldn't take this case."

You almost choked at how hard you snorted. You really thought for a moment that you were maybe getting into more civil terms with the Avenger. You shook your head as the laughter bubbled in your chest, starting from a soft breathy giggle until it was a full loud laugh that had you slapping at the steering wheel. Steve was looking at you like you had completely lost your mind.

"What's so funny, agent?"

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, but the smile was still wide and bright on your face as you turned to him. Your eyes were dancing with a cheeky mirth that he both found attractive and threatening at the same time.

"Nothing. I just finally confirmed something I've been wondering about for a long time."

"What's that?"

"That your shield comes with a stick up your ass."

The dark murderous look on his face only made you burst into laughter again. The clenching of his jaw, the tight furrow of his brow, and the deep scowl on his face was only proving your point. The wild grin on yours further infuriated him.

"Loosen up, Cap. You're going to swallow the stick whole with the way you're clenching."

[sierraraeck]

Some Things Do Change

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aundreya loops the rest of the team in on DeLeon’s most recent threat, and receives a phone call with unexpected news. Story twenty-three.

Category: Just a normal case. I guess a little angst and a little fluff if you look for it.

Warnings: Cussing. Mentions of hate crimes as their case. Mentions of death and murder.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I still know nothing about prison protocols.

I had a plan.

But this time, I was sure that it actually accounted for everything. Now that I knew DeLeon’s main motivations were to get back at me, to destroy my connection with everyone I care about, and above all take an eye for an eye, I felt better prepared.

I called and told Mateo that he needed to be on the lookout in case DeLeon came after him, and I told Deen to put some of our best people on him without him knowing. If Mateo knew I had our own people watching him, ready to step in and help protect him, he’d get mad and make sure to lose them, talking some shit about being able to take care of himself. I couldn’t have that, because as much as I trusted Mateo, I equally didn’t trust DeLeon. He could have anything in store for us.

On the other hand, I talked to Hotch about getting a protective detail for Spencer, without Spencer knowing, but he told me we would have to tell him. I really didn’t want that, having Spencer worrying about me and also about himself, so I offered to put more of my people on him, but he said no. Hotch insisted that we get the team involved this time.

Which I heavily opposed.

He didn’t care, and gracefully reminded me that it was no longer my call considering a fellow agent was in danger.

We filed into the round table room where a detail was waiting, and instead of Garcia, it was Hotch standing by the screen, ready to present everything to the group.

“What’s going on?” Spencer asked, gesturing between Aaron and the detail.

“Sit down,” Aaron commanded. We did as he said, waiting for him to continue. A couple of side eyes were passed my way, but I did my best to ignore them and appear neutral. “As you know, a man by the name of Jamar DeLeon has recently crossed the BAU desk, and it has been brought to my attention that things have been getting more serious.”

It was getting harder to ignore the fiery glances thrown my way. “Knowing his motives with Chambers, and how things nearly ended last time, we’ve hired protective detail Clyde to-”

“What does Chambers need a detail for? Wouldn’t she just use her own people?” JJ jumped in, as if I wasn’t even there.

“Detail’s not for me,” I smoothly answered. Confusion flashed across her face before Hotch answered her unasked question.

“He’s here for Reid.”

“What?” Reid asked.

“Last time, DeLeon’s endgame was an eye for an eye,” Hotch stated. “He had his sights set on you, and we are sure that you are still the target.”

“An eye for an eye?” Derek confirmed. “Because she killed Xena, right?”

“Correct.”

“What about that other guy?” Emily stepped in, “Mateo?”

“It’s handled,” I assured. She gave me a look, but relented.

“What about Garcia?” Derek asked. “I mean, she actually got shot last time.”

“That’s true, but I don’t think he’s going to take the same approach as last time,” I said. “He already tried that and failed, so I think he’s going to go with a more personal touch this time, and as much as I love you, Penelope, you’re not his target.”

She let out an audible sigh.

“But I am?” Spencer confirmed.

“Yes.”

“How’d you get him off the first time?” JJ asked. “Couldn’t you do that again?”

Aaron and I exchanged a look, which everyone caught, before he answered for me, “That option will no longer work.”

“And why’s that?” JJ pressed.

“It was a one time offer, and is off the table,” Hotch sternly continued, giving JJ a pointed look.

“What are you not telling us?” Derek probed.

Hotch was about to say something more when I cut him off, “It’s okay.” I looked at him, and I could tell he was silently asking me if it really was okay, and I just nodded. “My one time offer was with Agent Howard Archer.”

“So you killed him to save Spencer?” Emily quickly concluded.

I shook my head, “Not exactly. Before I joined your team, I was hiding out within my own ring. I’d just escaped from prison and was trying to stay as under the radar as I could. Somehow, Archer found me, and he wasn’t there to arrest me. He hired me to infiltrate the BAU, get rid of the vice president, and pin it on Hotch. So, I-”

“Hold on. You were working with Archer and you killed him?” Emily interjected.

“Yes, I’m getting there,” I confirmed. Hotch was staring holes into me, because while he had figured out it was me who killed Archer, he didn’t know about all of this, specifically the part where I was supposed to get him charged with murder. “After getting to know you guys, I did everything I could to stall, and Archer was about to expose me when I got put in prison, which was actually a small blessing, giving me a legitimate excuse not to follow through. He visited me in prison and slipped up, letting me know that he was in contact with, and most likely hired, Xena and DeLeon to do what I couldn’t. I wasn’t about to let that happen, so when I was given the perfect opportunity to run, I took it. I was hopeful that I could keep them off your backs long enough for me to figure out what to do. The ring and I had a plan to get Xena on our side and then take down DeLeon, but when that didn’t work-”

“You killed her,” Rossi finished. “Without a single trace.”

“Right,” I nodded.

I was about to keep going when he asked, “How did you pull that off anyway?”

“I didn’t,” I smirked slightly, not answering his question. “I was pretty beat up though, so I went to Madden’s place, the doctor. DeLeon grabbed me from there and took me to wherever it was and started live streaming. I was able to get Reid out of that because I offered him more than what he wanted.”

“Which was..?” Rossi prompted.

“He could get an eye for an eye by killing Spencer or Mateo, but what he really wanted was for me to feel as hurt as he did. I told him that I’d carry out my deal with Archer, wrecking my relationships with all of you and most likely the ring along with it.”

“That was actually pretty clever,” Emily admitted.

I shrugged, “Not clever enough. The last loose end in all of this besides DeLeon himself was Archer. He was panicking because he’d hired three of the biggest criminals in the nation to do his dirty work, and we weren’t exactly playing nice with one another. I had people following him and they told me that he was on edge and having weird phone conversations. Plus, I thought he hired people to come after me and was worried that he was in contact with DeLeon to carry out the deal and get me caught in the process. He was unreliable, so…” I didn’t need to continue. “But now, DeLeon is going to be extra pissed that I played him and I’m sure he’ll be taking a more direct course of action, hence Clyde.” I gestured toward him. They were all silent, shifting their eyes between me, Hotch, and the protective detail.

“Holy shit, Chambers,” Tara spoke up first. “What’s your plan now?”

“That’s what we brought you in to talk about,” Hotch said, gaining back control of the conversation. “We will have Clyde with Reid and will then have to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Derek asked, the discomfort apparent in his voice.

“Wait for DeLeon to make a move. We may know that he’s one of the biggest criminals, but we don’t have any proof that will hold up in court, so yes. We wait.”

“You’re just gonna let him take Reid and kill him for evidence?” Derek raised his voice.

I shook my head, “He won’t kill him. At least, not when he first grabs him. He’ll want me watching, and preferably in person.”

“We’ll give him that,” Hotch assured. “Once Chambers is in with him, we can track her and arrest him.”

“And I can handle him until you guys show up,” I said.

“I, for one, do not think this is a good plan,” JJ chimed in. “It’s super unpredictable, and-”

“I’ll do it,” Spencer casually said.

“Spencer, come on, it’s-” JJ tried again, brows knit together.

“I said I’ll do it.” His voice was strong and exuded more confidence than I’d heard in a while. I was surprised he was so willing to do it, trusting that we’d get there in time.

“Good,” Hotch said, leaving no more room for argument, “Until then, we continue with business as usual. To not raise suspicion, Clyde will be acting as a NAT who is shadowing us. Garcia, you may present the case.”

“Yes, sir,” Garcia said, making her way up to the screen. “Five men within the last two months have gone missing, their last known locations being a gay bar in downtown New Orleans.”

“So we’re thinking hate crime?” Tara asked.

“That’s what it looks like,” Rossi agreed, “Do they all match the same description?”

“Do they ever,” Garcia said, pressing buttons to bring up all five men’s faces. “Mid-thirties, white, blonde hair, and around six feet tall.”

“Wow,” Emily commented, “That screams surrogate.”

“Now we have to figure out who for. Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed, but I hung back to talk to Penelope. She tried to force a smile and walk past me, but I called, “Penelope?” She stopped and slowly turned around to face me. “I-I wanted to apologize. On that video, I know I said some pretty terrible things and I just-”

“No need,” she quietly stopped me. “I know you were just doing what you needed to.” She then rushed out of the room, leaving me alone. I threw my head back, and sighed as I looked up at the ceiling. That went well.

“She’s just hurting.” His voice brought my eyes to his in an instant. Spencer quirked his mouth to one side. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I hate that I was the one who did that to her,” I confided, “And on top of that, I couldn’t even prevent her from getting shot. Looks like she got the best of both worlds.”

“Yes, but she knows you were trying to save her life. It’s a twisted sort of compliment that you almost couldn’t.”

“If you wanna look at it that way,” I shrugged. He was about to respond to me when my phone started buzzing.

“I’ll let you take that. Meet you by the jet in ten?”

“Sure,” I agreed, answering my phone. “Hello?”

A man’s voice came over the line. “Ms. Spade?”

I paused for a moment. Who is calling and why did they refer to me by my given last name? I contemplated answering when the man asked again, “Is this Ms. Spade?”

“Um, yes, this is she,” I replied.

“Hello, this is Todd Joseph with the DC correctional facility in Washington DC. I regret to inform you that your father, Joe Spade, has died as of 3:13 am this morning. I am very sorry for your loss. We recommend that you come down to the facility to make a decision on-”

“Any decisions can be made over the phone,” I interrupted. Under no circumstances did I want to visit a prison when I did not have to, and definitely not for my father.

“Of course, Ms. Spade. I guess my first question should be if you plan on holding a ceremony?”

Did I plan on holding a ceremony? I didn’t even think I was the right person to be asking. But there was no one else in his life, which made me the sole decision maker. “I do not.”

“Is there anything specific you would like us to do with his body? Any belongings you may want to search through?” His voice sounded calm, like this was the only thing he had to do all day, like nothing else was more important than calling Joe Spade’s estranged daughter that was the one who put him in prison in the first place to ask what she wanted to do with his dead body.

“No. Do whatever you need, but I will not be taking part in anything regarding Joe Spade,” I replied, a bit too harshly. I then hung up the phone, and hoped that he got the message and wouldn’t call me back. I leaned back against the table, feeling empty. I wasn’t sad that he was gone. He’d done nothing for me except try to kill some of the only people I care about and ruin my childhood. As messed up as it sounds, I always imagined what it would be like, the day he died. I knew that I wouldn’t care, but somewhere in my head I had the image of me feeling happy. Relieved. But he’d been so far out of my mind, that I really didn’t feel anything. It would be like if some random person called you up and told you that a complete stranger across the city died and you were supposed to make a decision about what to do next.

I felt nothing. The only thought swimming through my head was that I was officially the last Spade standing. I was it. My grandparents had died of old age, not like I knew them well, my mother was an only child and my father had a younger sister who had taken another last name and I’d never met her anyways. I am it. I officially have no family left. And I wouldn’t even consider myself a Spade.

I was drawn from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps running toward me. “Aundreya!” Spencer called. “We have to go. I thought you were going to meet me in ten?”

Have I really just been standing here for over ten minutes? “Yeah, sorry, I got distracted.”

“By that phone call?”

“I guess,” I tried to play it off, “Let’s go.” I brushed past him, grabbed my go-bag, and started jogging toward the jet.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The case was actually pretty standard. We’d found the perp in under four days, and just had to interrogate him before we could officially arrest him.

Spencer had been eyeing me for the past couple days, and just recently, so had Emily. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but neither said anything to me, and no one else was acting off, so I let it go. Spencer and I were assigned to go in and interrogate a man by the name of Chase Terry who fit the profile to a T.

We casually walked into the room, Spencer taking the seat across from him, me standing in the corner with my back against the wall, hands in my pockets.

“Chase Terry?” Spencer started in a conversational tone. No response. “What were you doing two nights ago when Liam Parish went missing?”

“I don’t have to talk to you,” Chase stated, crossing his arms.

“You probably should,” Spencer sympathetically said, “We’re just trying to cross you off our suspect list so we can find the guy who did this.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Chase asked. “You put me in handcuffs and dragged me here. You think I did it.”

“You’re right. Some of my colleagues do,” he admitted, voice still soft, “But I don’t. See, I don’t think you match the profile of an out of control, spiteful, bipolar man with daddy issues and internalized homophobia. I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Chase shifted in his chair and locked his jaw, “I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t say you were. So just tell me where you were two nights ago, and I’ll let you go,” Spencer offered. Chase just sat there. Then, Spencer decided to turn up the heat, voice getting a bit more frustrated, enunciating each word carefully. “Where were you two nights ago?”

Still nothing, so Spencer pushed harder. “Where were you? At home with your boyfriend?”

“I’m not gay!”

“Then why was your phone pinging off of three cell towers around the same gay bar that Liam Parish was last seen at?” Spencer had leaned in on the table, getting very close to Chase. “You were there, we know you were. What were you doing at a gay bar if you’re not gay? Answer me!” There was fire in Spencer’s eyes as Chase still had nothing to give us.

I decided to cool things down a bit, my voice skating across like ice, “Careful, because if you piss him off so much he decides to leave,” I clicked my tongue, “I’ll be the one in charge.”

“Who are you?” Chase asked, finally acknowledging my presence.

I nodded my head toward Spencer, “He asked you a question first. What were you doing at that bar?”

Right as Chase leaned back in his chair, clearly closed off to answering any questions, Spencer stood up and walked out of the room, but not before giving me a small eyebrow raise and a smirk.

My turn. I stayed leaning against the wall in the darkest corner, waiting for Chase to speak first. With the help of a perfect set up from Spencer, he did. “What’s his problem?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for years,” I feigned annoyance. “But tell me about you. Raised by a single mom, no siblings, absent father. Me too, actually.” I slowly sauntered toward the table, resting my hands on the back of the chair Spencer had just been sitting in. “He used to yell at us a lot, when he was home, which he wasn’t often. My mom finally divorced him after finding out that he was cheating on her.”

It was close enough to the truth that I could be convincing, but close enough to his truth to get his wheels turning and hopefully lips flapping.

“Your father cheated on your mother?” Chase asked, a bit skeptical.

“Yeah, and for some pretty young bitch like half his age,” I lied, allowing my voice to sound a bit more angry. “He’d been lying to us for essentially my entire life and then left us for her. God, I just wanted to tell him how much I hated him for that.”

“What a dick. Mine left us for some guy he claimed to be in love with. Can you believe that there are so many men that do that?” Chase asked, leaning back in from his seat.

“The percentages are ridiculous,” I sat down as I continued talking, “Apparently 70 percent of all marriages see at least one incident of cheating. It’s unbelievable how these people, especially men, are willing to just throw their family away for some fun one night.”

“Yeah that, or like for you and I, an entire secret life,” Chase agreed.

“I know! It just makes you so angry, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I wanted to become an FBI agent so that I could track down my father and tell him to his face how much I hated him,” I gave a single laugh, “The look he gave me…” I pretended to revel in the feeling.

“It must’ve been nice. I haven’t been able to track down my father and do the same.” He looked like he was zoning out a little, probably imagining what he’d imagined doing a thousand times to his father, what he’d already done to men like Liam.

“I hope you get to one day. It’s an amazing feeling. But for now I guess you’ll just have to keep using men at bars instead,” I casually added, then held my breath.

He sighed. “I guess. It’ll never be as good as the real thing, though.”

“No, hurting them will never be as satisfying as digging your nails into your own father’s throat,” I snarled.

He flashed a wicked smile at the thought, clenching his fists, “Not even close,” and I knew we had him for sure. There wasn’t a single jury that wouldn’t convict him after seeing that smile and that essential confession.

“Come on, I’ll take you to our tech guru and she can help you find your father.”

“Really?” he asked, standing up. I nodded and we made our way to the exit. I motioned for him to go ahead of me, but before he could grab the handle, I shoved him up against the door. I already had the cuffs halfway around his wrists by the time he yelled, “Hey! What the hell!”

“We don’t make it a habit of helping people going to prison find their final target. Sorry.” I led him out the door while he struggled against me, practically throwing him in the precinct holding cell until he could be transferred to a more permanent one.

“Nice job,” Emily complimented. “Way to connect with his anger towards his father.”

“Thanks,” was all I offered as I walked away, barely catching the shared look between her and Spencer.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

By the time we boarded the jet, it was the middle of the afternoon and we were on schedule to get home before dinner. I was about to pull out a book in hopes that it would make me tired enough for a plane ride cat nap, but I was stopped shy by the tapping sound of wood on wood.

Spencer sat down happily across from me, setting the folded, portable chess set in the middle of us. “Want to play a game of chess?”

I looked at him with a blank face. “Why?”

“Because you enjoy playing,” Spencer answered, a bit of a question in his voice. He must’ve assumed that I would immediately say yes.

“You always beat me,” I slightly pouted.

“But you never back down from a challenge,” he reminded me.

I quickly glanced around at everyone else on the jet, and the seat Spencer used to be occupying at the opposite end. I cocked an eyebrow, “Everyone else said no, didn’t they?”

“Well, I, I uh … No? No. That’s not what-” he floundered.

I smiled. “Just set up the board.”

He happily obliged. We went through three games, and before we started our fourth, Rossi called over, “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Well, someone’s got to keep his genius brain occupied, and we all know it’s not gonna be you,” I joked, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I see how it is,” Rossi smugly said, tossing his hands up in surrender, “Either way, I’m just glad I’m not you.” I rolled my eyes, and we set up for our fourth game.

And then the unthinkable happened.

I beat him. For real. I really, truely, beat him.

I couldn’t believe it, and clearly neither could Spencer because he hadn’t moved from his position, hands under his chin, elbows on the table, eyes staring at the board, so I confirmed, “Did I do it?” He slowly looked up at me, lips pressed together, confusion in his eyes and I knew. “Oh my god, I did it!”

My mouth fell open and I clapped my hands together. I reached my hand over the board, and he reluctantly took it. “Good game.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” I rhetorically asked, staring at the board with wonder. Reid started laughing, and I had to laugh with him. We’d played so many games of chess over the years we’d known each other, and I started to give up on my promise that one day I’d beat him. “What game number is this?”

“203.”

“Holy shit,” I said. “No wonder everyone on this plane thinks I’m fucking insane.”

“That’s because you are,” Rossi called over again.

“True,” I agreed, “But it paid off. Bet now you wish you were me.”

He just playfully shook his head.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we landed, it was almost 4pm and we decided we’d spend the next hour getting a jump start on our paperwork. We decided to go and eat together (which I somehow got invited to?), but right as we were about to leave, Spencer and Emily awkwardly stood in front of me. They didn’t make a move to get out of the way, so I just stared at them knowing damn well they were about to address the awkwardness I’d been sensing.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Emily asked.

I furrowed my brow, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know you just seem … not yourself,” Emily observed.

“I’m okay,” I told her with certainty.

“You’ve just been acting … I don’t know actually, you’ve been acting pretty normal,” Emily struggled, sounding a bit frustrated.

I gave her a look. “I’m confused.”

“Dull?” Spencer intervened, “Like you’re you, and you’re acting like you, but something about you seems duller than usual.”

I cocked my head to the side. There was only one thing that made this week different from all of the other weeks, which was, “My dad died.” My voice was very steady and neutral, which there was no reason for it to sound otherwise.

“What, really?” Emily was shocked, eyes going wide.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it happened Tuesday night, well I mean Wednesday morning.”

She looked over at Spencer who was trying to hide the fact that he was gawking at me, and she cautiously asked, “Should we be doing anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No celebration?”

“Emily!” Spencer turned on her.

“What? He was a terrible guy,” Emily defended, shrugging with her palms up.

As Derek walked out of the bullpen to join the party, he added, “I’d toast to that.”

“Derek!” Spencer screeched, wide eyes trained on him.

“She’s right, though,” he replied, “Dude sucked.”

“He was still her father,” Spencer hissed.

I decided to step in, “Not really. He was more like a stranger, I didn’t know him. You know I always thought I’d be happy when this day came, but I really just don’t feel anything one way or the other about it.”

“That makes sense,” Emily nodded, “So if you’re feeling normal, does that mean we can go out for normal drinks?”

Spencer elbowed Emily, and she glared right back at him. “Yeah. Just normal, after-case drinks.”

“Fantastic, first round is on me,” Emily smiled.

“Ooh, first round of what?” Penelope asked, as she joined us in the hallway outside the elevator.

“Ask Chambers, she gets to choose,” Emily declared.

“Ugh, not fair,” Penelope whined.

“Well, her dad died, so…” Derek explained.

“Oh, seriously?” JJ asked with a little pep in her voice, joining the rest of us with Tara, Hotch, and Rossi on her trail. “Uh, congratulations?”

“Not you too, JJ,” Spencer complained. I pressed my lips together to hold back a smile. It was kind of endearing that he thought the team should be more sensitive about my feelings or whatever.

“What? I thought you hated your dad,” JJ looked to me for confirmation.

“I did,” I told her, “But I don’t really feel anything about it.”

“That must be nice,” Tara added. I nodded and couldn’t contain the small smile that pulled on my lips.

I leaned over to where Spencer was still tensely standing next to me. I whispered, “It’s okay, they’re just trying to lighten the mood. Plus, they’re kinda right.”

“I just want to make sure they’re not being insensitive,” he softened his eyes as he looked at me.

“They’re not,” I assured.

When we got to the bar and diner, Emily followed through and bought us all a round of tequila shots. Four rounds later and a few other drinks in, she announced, “I know you said normal, but I think we should go around and share our favorite memory of Joe Spade.”

I laughed in her face, “You met the man once!”

“Exactly. I’ll start,” she smiled. “My favorite moment was when we found out he’d been stalking you for months because he just wanted you to talk to him.”

“Wait, what the hell?” Tara asked.

No one answered her because JJ’s turn was next. “My favorite moment was when she calmly stared him down while he was holding on to Spencer.”

“What the actual hell?” Tara intervened again, “How am I just now hearing about this?”

She was ignored yet again when Derek said, “My favorite moment was when Aundreya kicked his ass and told him off!”

There was some hooting and hollering at that, and I just shook my head with amusement. Hey, at least they know me well enough to know I can joke about anything, especially the weird and bad things that happen to me, and feel comfortable enough to actually do it. Granted, they are kinda tipsy. “You people are truely demented.”

“Especially when you’re drunk,” Tara added.

“Like you’re so much better,” Penelope slurred, sticking her tongue out.

“Maybe not,” Tara said with a smirk, “But I bet I could still kick all of your asses on the dance floor.” Quickly, all five of them scurried in that direction, leaving Spencer talking with Hotch, like they had since the beginning, and me with Rossi. I rested my chin on my fist as I looked down the bar toward Spencer, who was gesturing with his hands and smiling at something Hotch was telling him, probably about Jack.

I’d been trying to control myself, but ever since he kissed me, and I knew that things weren’t perfect with Maeve, I found my mind wandering to him. Especially knowing everything Hotch told me about him when I was gone, and how I needed to stop running from emotionally difficult things, I just couldn’t suppress the urges to look and think about him anymore. I gave in. I gave myself hope. Which was one of the most dangerous things I’d ever done.

“So what’s with you and the kid?” Rossi said, sitting down in between me and my staring. I gave him a look and he asked, “What, you said act normal.”

“I did say that,” I grudgingly admitted.

“So… what’s with you and Reid these days?”

“Who said there was anything with me and Reid these days?” I fired back.

“Oh Chambers,” he faked disappointment, “You know you can’t lie to profilers.”

I sighed, “I’m not going to be a homewrecker.”

“I have news for you. You can’t be a homewrecker if there is no home to wreck,” he pointed out.

“Does everyone forget about Maeve?” I asked.

“He doesn’t talk about her,” Rossi waved it off.

“He’s a private person,” I acknowledged.

“Yeah, but you don’t understand,” he said, “He used to talk about her. Then you came back, and he stopped talking about her.”

We sat in silence for a while longer before I felt the need to voice a fear of mine since this all started again. “Do you think he’s only showing interest in me because he’s been to prison?”

“What gave you that impression?” Rossi’s voice was a mixture of confusion and what sounded like it could be boredom. Fed up, maybe?

“Come on we all know he can’t accept the good things that happen to him, so what if he's just accepting the bad ones instead? I mean he thinks Maeve deserves better, so what if settling for second place is some weird form of self punishment?” The moment I said it, Rossi narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head.

He sighed, “You’re crazy, I don’t know how you got there.”

“Exactly!” I pointed out, “I am crazy, that’s why I can’t figure out why, under any circumstance, he’d be interested in me.”

“Does it matter?” he asked, dragging the words out as he shook his head slightly. I just looked at him. “Seriously, does it matter why he’s interested in you? The reasons don’t change anything. You care about each other, so just go for it, there’s really nothing standing in your way.” I was about to protest when he repeated, “Nothing. At least, there’s nothing from his end. Is there something from yours?”

“I mean-” I struggled to voice my thoughts.

“Look, I don’t know how you act around that Mateo character,” he said and I sighed. Of course he knows that’s something I’m thinking about. “But I know how you act around him, and I know how he acts around you. Think about what you really want, Aundreya, and then just go for it, but don’t keep putting yourself, and Spencer, through this.” With that, he got up, leaving me alone with a perfect view of Spencer’s glowing face.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When the night came to a close, we all had to get back to our places. Hotch, Rossi, and Spencer left early, Derek and Penelope got a cab, Will came to get JJ, and I drove Emily and Tara home. They said they could get a ride home like Derek and Penelope, but I insisted. Plus, I really didn’t want to go home already. It’d become a place I dreaded being at.

I opened my door to the usual sight of red on the opposite wall, and had to do a double take to actually notice.

Underneath “This isn’t over” was another three word phrase in brilliant red:

I have Spencer.

I dialed Aaron at lightning speed, “DeLeon has Spencer.”

“Get to the office now. I’ll call everyone else.” That was all he said before hanging up. I turned around to head right back out the door, and saw that someone was blocking my way. I bitterly smiled to myself as I set down my phone and started taking off my jacket.

“Haven’t you people given up yet?” I patronized. “You lose every single time.”

“It’ll work eventually,” a low, booming voice responded.

“Maybe, but,” I narrowed my eyes. He took a step toward me as I delivered a single spin kick to the side of his head, locating two more guys in my peripheral vision, “Not this time.”

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