little-jana

[little-jana]

"Playing With Fire"

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x f!reader

Genre: heated, no smut

Warnings: teasing, hot kisses, no s*x, sexual tension

Words: 1,9k

Summary: In a crowded tavern, a playful and daring exchange between the reader and Geralt ignites a passionate connection, leading to something heated.

The tavern was buzzing with energy as usual—laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional burst of song filling the air. But there, in the corner, sat Geralt of Rivia, as solitary and stoic as ever. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the dim light, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he sipped from a mug, his eyes scanning the room, though it was clear he wasn’t truly present.

I’d watched him for weeks now, from across crowded rooms or from behind the counter where I worked, wondering what it was about him that made him so... captivating. Sure, he had the usual rugged charm, but there was something more—something hidden under all that leather and steel. A mystery I couldn’t quite solve, though I was more than eager to try.

Tonight, the decision was made. I wasn’t going to wait any longer.

I slipped out of my seat and made my way toward the bar, my eyes never leaving him. Geralt was like a magnet, pulling me in, even if he wasn’t aware of it. I took a slow, purposeful walk toward him, and as I drew near, I gave him a teasing smile—one that I was sure would make him pause.

I slid onto the stool next to him, leaning forward just a little. "Drinking alone again, Geralt?" I asked, my voice light, but there was a mischievous edge beneath it. "Is that really how you spend your nights? No friends to join you? No one to keep you company?"

He glanced at me briefly, his amber eyes sweeping over me with that unreadable expression of his. He didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow sip of his drink, and then finally muttered, “Not in the mood for company.”

I raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at my lips. “Oh? A man like you? Surely someone’s tried to keep you company tonight.” I leaned in just slightly, making sure he could feel my presence, but not too much. Just enough to make him aware. “Or perhaps you’re waiting for someone special?”

Geralt’s eyes flickered with the slightest hint of amusement. He set his mug down with a soft thud, then turned to face me more fully, his posture relaxed but guarded. “I don’t have time for ‘someone special,’” he said, his voice as gravelly and rough as ever.

My lips curved into an even wider grin, the playful challenge in me stirring. “Oh, so no interest in anyone here?” I glanced around the room, making sure he saw the women who openly watched him from their corners. “Not even a little?”

His gaze followed mine briefly, but there was no real interest in his eyes. “Not my type,” he muttered, his voice devoid of inflection.

“Well, that’s convenient,” I teased, giving him a sidelong glance. “It would be a shame to waste such… assets.” My eyes flicked over his broad shoulders, down to his strong hands resting on the bar. “I’m sure you’d make some lucky woman very happy if you’d just stop being so… stubborn.”

I could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere between us. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but the small flash of amusement didn’t escape me. He leaned in just enough so that our words became private, just between the two of us. “You seem to know a lot about what I need,” he said, his tone low and laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing the edge of my glass as I sipped from it. “Well, I don’t like to brag,” I began with a teasing smile. “But I’m rather good at reading people.” My eyes locked with his then, a spark of playful challenge igniting between us. “And you, Geralt,” I whispered, leaning just a little closer, “are a very easy man to read.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the amber flicker darkening. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, dragging out the word. “You’re not as unreadable as you think you are. I mean,” I said, drawing my finger along the rim of my glass, “you’re sitting here alone, brooding in a tavern full of people. And yet…” I paused, letting the silence stretch just enough for him to bite. “…You’ve been staring at me since I walked in. What’s that about, hmm?”

Geralt’s lips twitched as if holding back a smile, but his gaze remained fixed on me. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made me more curious—and more determined to push him further.

I tilted my head, my lips curling into a half-smile. “Tell me, Geralt, are you always this elusive? Or are you just… waiting for someone to make the first move?”

His response was a low growl, one that reverberated from deep in his chest. My eyes widened slightly, but I didn’t flinch. It was exactly what I wanted. The growl was a warning, yes, but it was also a challenge, and I wasn’t about to back down.

“You play with fire,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, a thin thread of amusement woven in.

I shifted closer to him, my knee brushing against his beneath the bar. “I’ve always liked fire,” I said, my voice soft but laced with challenge. “It’s the thrill of it. You never know how hot it’s going to get until you’re already burned.”

His eyes flickered, and the air between us seemed to hum with electricity. I could feel his growing awareness of me—of the flirtation that had escalated from playful teasing to something more potent, more dangerous.

Geralt finally shifted his weight, just enough to close the space between us, his body leaning toward mine, his breath brushing against my ear as he spoke. “You’ve got a sharp tongue,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerously enticing. “And I’m starting to wonder what else you’re good at.

I let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Before I could even process what was happening, Geralt’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a firm grip and pulling me toward him. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. There was no teasing, no drawn-out seduction. It was fierce, raw, desperate.

His mouth moved against mine with urgency, the pressure of his kiss almost startling at first, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. I didn’t resist, meeting him with just as much intensity. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, my body pressing up against his as I felt the heat of his chest through the thin fabric of his tunic.

Geralt growled low in his throat, the sound reverberating through the kiss, and it only made my heart race faster. His hand moved from my wrist, sliding around my waist, pulling me even closer until I could feel every inch of him—hard, warm, and demanding.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, my lips tingled with the taste of him, and I could feel the wild rush of adrenaline still coursing through me. I was breathless, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His gaze was heated, intense, as though he was just as affected by the kiss as I was.

“You’re dangerous,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

I smiled, my fingers trailing lightly along his jaw. “I like it that way,” I whispered, leaning in just enough to brush my lips against his once more. “And you, Geralt, are exactly the kind of danger I’m looking for.”

His eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation when he leaned in to kiss me again—this time slower, deeper, as though he was savoring every second. His hands were gentle now, but no less possessive, cradling my face as he kissed me with a tenderness that made my heart race all over again.

The world around us faded into the background, and all that was left was the feel of his lips on mine, the warmth of his body against me. For the first time, it felt like Geralt wasn’t just resisting the pull between us. He was giving in to it.

And I couldn’t have been happier.

[little-jana]

"The Witcher's Path"

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Genre: angsty, fluff, happy ending

Warnings: fighting monsters, kissing

Summary: Reader and Geralt fight a wraith and some suppressed feelings surface.

The forest was quiet, too quiet for my liking. The moon barely managed to pierce through the thick canopy above, casting only faint patches of silver light on the ground. The path was rugged, littered with roots and rocks, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth and pine. I had been tracking this creature for days—a wraith that had been terrorizing the nearby villages. It was said to be ancient, cursed, and its presence weighed heavily in the air like a storm that had yet to break.

My boots made little noise on the ground, but I knew I wasn’t truly alone. The Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, had been with me from the start, though he kept his distance, as he always did. There was something about the way he moved through the world—quiet, deliberate, and unsettlingly calm in the face of danger—that made it clear how much he had seen. How much he had lost.

Despite the terrifying nature of the wraith we were hunting, I couldn’t help but notice the way Geralt moved, the way his eyes scanned the darkened woods, alert, but distant, as if he were constantly haunted by something deeper than the monsters that stalked the night.

I adjusted my pack, feeling the weight of my sword on my back and the cool air on my skin. I wasn’t used to feeling like I didn’t belong in my own skin, but with Geralt, everything felt… different. It wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he carried the burden of the world on his shoulders, the way he kept so much inside, always distant, always closed off.

I shouldn’t have cared. After all, I was just a traveling companion. A useful set of hands in the fight. But I couldn’t help but wonder: *Was there more to him than the monster hunter he appeared to be?*

A rustling sound from the trees interrupted my thoughts. My hand instinctively went to the hilt of my sword, my muscles tensing in preparation for the fight. Geralt was already ahead of me, his sword drawn, his body poised like a coiled spring. I could feel the change in the air as the wraith drew closer, its cold presence settling over the forest like a thick fog.

"Stay close," Geralt said, his voice calm, as always. His golden eyes flicked toward me briefly before returning to the shadows around us. He was always thinking ahead, calculating, preparing for every possible outcome. It was one of the reasons he was so good at what he did.

I nodded, though my heart raced. The wraith was near, its oppressive aura creeping through the trees. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. But it wasn’t the wraith that made my pulse quicken. It was the way Geralt’s voice held that command, that calm authority, and how I instinctively listened. How, in his presence, I always felt as though I could trust him—no matter how dangerous the situation.

The wraith materialized in front of us like a phantom, its spectral form flickering in and out of existence. Its eyes burned with an unnatural light, and its long, rotting fingers reached out, claws scraping the air as it hovered before us.

Geralt didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he lunged forward, slashing with his silver sword. The wraith howled in fury, evading his strike with ease. It was fast, too fast for me to follow with my eyes, but I kept close to Geralt, moving in sync with him as we worked to corner the creature.

It was a battle of endurance and strategy. Every strike from Geralt was calculated, but the wraith was relentless. It danced around us, always one step ahead, always just out of reach. It seemed to toy with us, as though enjoying the chase.

"Stay behind me," Geralt growled as the wraith made another attempt to strike. I obeyed, trusting him, but I couldn’t help feeling the sting of his words. He always gave orders, always told me to stay out of harm’s way. As though I couldn’t handle myself in the heat of battle.

It stung, but I knew better than to argue.

The battle raged on for what felt like hours, the wraith’s chilling laughter echoing through the trees, filling the air with an eerie sense of dread. I could see the exhaustion in Geralt’s movements, the way his steps grew heavier, the way he was fighting just a little slower than before. The wraith was wearing him down, and it was only a matter of time before it would overwhelm us both.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

With a surge of energy, I rushed forward, aiming for the wraith’s side while Geralt distracted it with another strike. My sword met its ghostly form, cutting through the air with a sharp hiss, but I didn’t expect it to have any effect. The wraith was no ordinary monster. But, just as I predicted, the moment I made contact, a crackling energy surged through my body, the coldness of the wraith flooding my veins.

Geralt’s eyes widened in alarm. "No!"

I staggered back, fighting to keep my grip on my sword as the chill seeped deeper into my body. The wraith was feeding off my energy, using my own strength against me.

Geralt moved faster than I could blink. In one swift motion, he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me with surprising gentleness despite the urgency of the situation. "Don’t fight it," he murmured, his voice a low command. "Trust me."

I didn’t have time to think, to process the feeling of his warmth against me, or the way his hands seemed to anchor me to the present. His strength was a shield, pushing back the wraith’s icy grip as he pulled me closer. In that moment, all I could feel was him. His heart beating against my chest, the weight of his body against mine, and the sheer determination in his touch as he held me tightly.

With a final, desperate cry, Geralt swung his sword one last time, driving it through the wraith’s heart. The creature let out a blood-curdling scream before disintegrating into the air, its form dissolving into nothingness.

The forest fell silent once again.

I felt a surge of warmth flood through me, the cold leaving my body as the wraith’s hold vanished. My breath came in ragged gasps as I struggled to steady myself. But even as my body relaxed, my mind was still spinning. The battle was over. We had won. But something had changed between us. The air between us was different now. Charged with something I couldn’t quite place.

Geralt slowly let me go, his hands lingering for a moment too long, his golden eyes meeting mine. There was something in his gaze, something I hadn’t seen before. A flicker of something soft—something more than just the Witcher. It was raw. Honest. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I could have sworn I saw vulnerability in him.

“You’re... alright?” Geralt asked, his voice rough, though there was a gentleness to it now.

I nodded, though I could feel my heart still racing. "I’m fine. Thanks to you."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at me for a long moment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, like he was trying to decide if he should say more. Finally, he sighed, a breath of resignation escaping his lips.

“I told you to stay behind me,” he muttered, his tone a little lighter now, though there was a hint of frustration in his words. But then, as if realizing something, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I didn’t want you getting hurt."

There was a pause. And then, before I could stop myself, I reached up, resting my hand against his. "I didn’t want you to fight alone," I whispered.

Geralt’s eyes softened, just the smallest hint of emotion flickering across his face. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a step closer, and for the first time since I’d met him, there was no distance between us. No walls. Just two people, standing in the quiet aftermath of a battle, caught in a moment that felt like something more.

His hand found mine, his fingers interlacing with mine in a rare gesture of connection. The weight of his touch was enough to make my heart skip a beat.

"Don’t leave," Geralt said, his voice low, almost a whisper. There was something in the way he said it that made my chest tighten. He wasn’t asking. It was a plea, something he didn’t often let slip.

I didn’t hesitate. "I’m not going anywhere," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly as I stepped closer to him.

And there, in the quiet forest, with the moonlight shining down on us, Geralt of Rivia pulled me into his arms, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. A kiss that spoke of battles fought, of pain and loss, but also of something else—something unspoken, something that neither of us could name.

But for once, I didn’t need to. We were both there, together. And that was enough.

[little-jana]

"Christmas With The Hotchner Boys"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, mentions of being alone, being called a "good girl", Jack being the cutest little Christmas elf

Words: 1.65k

Summary: Nobody should be alone on Christmas, the Hotchners make sure of that!

a/n: This is for anyone that feels lonely during the holidays! Merry Christmas! xo

Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.

I stared at the blinking lights of my tiny tree, tucked into the corner of my living room. The scent of pine lingered faintly, but the holiday spirit hadn’t quite settled over me. It was my first Christmas in years spent away from my family, a choice born out of necessity rather than desire. A looming work deadline and a snowstorm that canceled flights had left me here—alone, or so I thought.

My phone buzzed on the counter, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Hotch.

Seeing his name flash on my screen made my heart flutter, a reaction I’d grown used to over the months. Aaron Hotchner had a way of showing up exactly when I needed him, even if he didn’t realize it.

I picked up the phone, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hotch, hey. What’s up?”

“Hi,” he said, his deep voice warm and familiar. “I just wanted to check in. I know you said you weren’t going home for Christmas. How are you holding up?”

I smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine. Just a little... quiet around here.”

There was a pause, the kind of comfortable silence I’d grown to appreciate with him. “I thought that might be the case,” he said finally. “That’s why I’m outside your building.”

I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “You’re... what?”

“Outside,” he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Can you buzz me in?”

I hurried to the intercom, my heart pounding as I pressed the button. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at my door.

When I opened it, there he was, standing in the hallway with a small wrapped package in one hand and a faint smile on his face. But he wasn’t alone.

“Hi,” he said, stepping inside with Jack close behind him, clutching a box of cookies.

“Hi,” I said, my eyes flicking between the two of them. “What are you... what are you doing here?”

“Well, Jack and I were making cookies, and we realized we might’ve made too many,” Aaron said, his tone so casual it almost made me laugh. “And I didn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone.”

Jack grinned up at me, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Dad said we should come over because Christmas is better with friends.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I knelt down to Jack’s level. “Is that so?”

He nodded earnestly. “And we brought the good cookies! Not the burnt ones.”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair. “Well, thank you for sharing. I’m honored.”

Aaron cleared his throat, holding out the wrapped package. “And this is for you.”

I took it carefully, my fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

I unwrapped the package slowly, revealing a leather-bound journal with a sleek, elegant design. It was beautiful, thoughtful, and so unmistakably him.

“You mentioned wanting to start journaling,” he said, almost shyly. “I thought this might help.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. “Aaron, this is perfect. Thank you.”

Jack tugged on my sleeve, holding up the box. “Do you have a tree? We could put cookies under it for Santa.”

I glanced at Aaron, who gave me a small shrug and a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, leading Jack into the living room where my modest little tree stood.

Jack immediately set to work arranging cookies on a plate while I grabbed mugs for hot chocolate. Aaron followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I worked.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, my voice soft.

He shrugged, his gaze warm and steady. “It didn’t feel right, leaving you alone tonight.”

“Still,” I said, meeting his eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

He smiled then, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart ache in the best way. “You don’t have to thank me.”

When we returned to the living room, Jack was carefully inspecting the tree, his head tilted as he studied the decorations.

“It’s pretty,” he said, turning to me with a grin. “But it needs one more thing.”

“Oh?” I asked, crouching down beside him. “What’s that?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small star ornament, holding it up proudly. “We made this at school. Can I put it on?”

“Of course,” I said, helping him find the perfect spot near the top.

As Jack admired his handiwork, Aaron stepped closer, his arm brushing against mine. The warmth of his presence was grounding, and I felt myself relax in a way I hadn’t all night.

“Looks perfect,” Aaron said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. His eyes were soft, full of something unspoken, and the air between us felt charged in a way that made my pulse quicken.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

His hand brushed against mine, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “Merry Christmas,” he said, his tone warm and intimate.

Jack’s voice broke the moment, calling out from across the room. “Can we watch a movie?”

Aaron chuckled, stepping back. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, my voice steadier now.

We spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, Jack nestled between us as we watched his favorite Christmas movie. His laughter filled the room, and for the first time in days, I felt a true sense of peace.

When the movie ended, Jack had fallen asleep, his head resting against Aaron’s shoulder. I helped Aaron tuck him into the spare bedroom, and as we stood in the doorway, watching Jack sleep, I felt a wave of emotion I couldn’t quite put into words.

“He’s amazing,” I said softly.

Aaron nodded, his expression tender as he looked at his son. “He is.”

We returned to the living room, and as I started tidying up, Aaron caught my wrist, stopping me.

“Leave it,” he said, his voice low.

I turned to face him, my breath catching at the intensity in his eyes.

“Aaron...”

He stepped closer, his hand still holding mine. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not used to... this.”

“Letting someone in?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled softly, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You’re doing a good job,” he murmured. “Better than you realize.”

The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt my cheeks heat.

“Good girl,” he said, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I felt my knees go weak. His gaze held mine, steady and unwavering, and I realized there was no hiding how much those words affected me.

“Aaron,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I reached up, wrapping my arms around him. His embrace was strong, reassuring, and I felt myself relax against him completely.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

“Merry Christmas,” I said softly, my heart full to bursting.

[little-jana]

"The Weight of His Words"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: steamy, fluff, 18+

Warnings: kissing, steamy kissing, hotch calling reader a good girl

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Hotch giving reader some compliments and one gets her all flustered...

Being in the BAU taught you to thrive under pressure, but nothing compared to the pressure of working under Aaron Hotchner. His commanding presence, razor-sharp focus, and quiet authority were enough to make anyone falter—especially you. He wasn’t intimidating in the typical way, but in how effortlessly he commanded respect and attention. Every time his dark eyes locked on you, steady and unyielding, it felt like your entire body was under his scrutiny.

And maybe that was the problem. You’d spent too much time noticing the man behind the badge: the soft-spoken leader who was fiercely protective of his team, the rare smiles that lit up his face when he thought no one was watching, the low, rumbling voice that made your stomach twist whenever he said your name.

Unfortunately, your growing attraction to your boss wasn’t something you could afford to entertain. So, you buried it—deep enough to function professionally, but never quite deep enough to forget.

But today was testing every ounce of self-control you had.

---

The team had just wrapped up a grueling case involving an elusive kidnapper. Everyone was running on fumes, but you’d been the one to track down the critical lead that led to the unsub’s capture. As the team regrouped at the precinct to finalize reports, you could feel Hotch’s gaze on you.

“Good work today,” he’d said earlier, his voice low but warm. That alone had been enough to make your cheeks flush.

Now, as you typed up the last details of your report, you caught him watching you again. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was something in his eyes—something that made your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cutting through the din of the precinct.

You looked up, heart skipping a beat. “Yes, sir?”

“Can I see you for a moment?”

Your pulse quickened, but you nodded, standing and following him into one of the side offices. He closed the door behind you, the quiet click of the lock making the small room feel suddenly smaller.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound calm.

“Yes,” he said, his tone reassuring. “I just wanted to talk to you about your work today.”

Your heart sank. “Did I miss something?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded through you, but it was quickly replaced by confusion.

“You were exceptional today,” he said, stepping closer. “That lead you followed—it was exactly what we needed. I wanted to make sure you knew how much it contributed to the case.”

His praise hit you like a tidal wave, and you tried to school your expression, but it was no use. You felt your cheeks warm, your breath hitching as he took another step closer.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

The words sent a jolt through you, and your entire body went still.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

“N-no,” you stammered, though your cheeks were burning.

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” you lied, even though the heat in your face betrayed you.

“You are,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The sight of him almost smiling—especially at your expense—made your heart race. You looked away, desperate to escape his gaze.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice softer now.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you blurted out, though it came out more like a squeak.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “No?”

“No,” you said quickly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” he said simply, and that damn phrase sent another wave of heat rushing through you.

You tried to focus, tried to keep your breathing steady, but the intensity in his gaze was unraveling you.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said, taking another step closer. “The way you think, the way you work—you’re one of the best. And I’m not just saying that.”

“Hotch, I—”

“You’re remarkable,” he interrupted, his voice firm but warm. “I hope you know that.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the walls around you closing in—not from fear, but from the sheer force of his presence.

“I—thank you,” you managed, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

He studied you for a long moment, and you could feel your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze.

“You’re doubting yourself again,” he said, his voice dropping lower.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he said gently. “But you don’t need to. You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt your knees go weak. You gripped the edge of the desk behind you, trying to steady yourself as your mind raced.

“I—” You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, let alone a denial.

His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. “Did I catch you off guard?”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You just—” You shook your head, your cheeks still burning.

“Just what?” he asked, his tone teasing now.

“You can’t say things like that,” you blurted out.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

“Because—” You bit your lip, struggling to find the right words. “Because it’s… distracting.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your pulse quicken even more.

“Distracting?” he repeated, his voice laced with amusement.

“Yes,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Hmm,” he hummed, stepping even closer.

You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding as he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek. The touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re remarkable,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I mean that.”

You felt your resolve snap. “Hotch, I—”

“Call me Aaron,” he interrupted, his voice low and commanding.

The sound of his name on his lips sent a thrill through you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you surged forward, closing the distance between you.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if both of you were testing the waters. But then his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and the floodgates opened.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your head spin, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped you. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the front of his suit jacket as the world around you faded away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing hard, and his forehead rested against yours.

“That was…” You trailed off, your mind still reeling.

“Amazing,” he finished, his voice rough but steady.

You smiled, your cheeks still flushed. “Yeah. Amazing.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest as he laughed quietly. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

[little-jana]

"Let's Be Alone Together"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Reader and Spencer escape reality together and spent Christmas together.

Christmas Eve in Quantico wasn’t exactly where I imagined spending the holiday, but the BAU didn’t really operate on a nine-to-five schedule. A last-minute case had pulled everyone into the office earlier that week, but thankfully, we’d wrapped it up just in time for the holidays.

Now, the bullpen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Most of the team had already headed home, eager to spend Christmas with their families. I should’ve done the same, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The blinking cursor on my laptop screen had hypnotized me, or at least that’s the excuse I told myself.

The truth was, it wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me at home. My plans consisted of takeout, bad Christmas movies, and falling asleep on the couch. Maybe a part of me had hoped that if I stayed long enough, I wouldn’t have to face that silence.

A familiar voice broke through my thoughts. “Still here?”

I glanced up to see Spencer Reid standing by his desk, looking equally as stranded. His cardigan was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to look almost relaxed.

“You’re still here too,” I countered, offering him a small smile.

He shrugged, shuffling a few papers on his desk. “I thought I’d finish up some reading before heading out. What about you?”

I gestured to my screen. “Pretending to be productive.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his smile growing. “It’s Christmas Eve. You’re allowed to take a break, you know.”

“I could say the same to you, genius,” I teased. “What is it this time? A thesis on the psychological implications of holiday traditions?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Actually, it’s a collection of Christmas short stories. Charles Dickens, O. Henry...”

“Fiction?,” I said surprised.

“I do enjoy a good academic paper,” he admitted with a grin. “But sometimes… fiction feels like a better escape.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. “So, you’re avoiding reality too, huh?”

Spencer hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, something that made my chest ache. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most open person when it came to his feelings, but I’d learned to read between the lines.

“You know,” I said, standing and crossing the room toward him, “we could avoid reality together. I’ve got leftover cookies and a terrible collection of Christmas movies. What do you say?”

He blinked, startled. “You mean… tonight? With you?”

“No, Spencer, I meant with the ghost of Christmas past,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Spence,” I interrupted, my tone gentle but firm. “It’s not imposing if I’m inviting you. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, before finally nodding. “Okay. I’d like that.”

---

An hour later, we were sitting on my couch, surrounded by the warm glow of twinkling Christmas lights. A tin of cookies rested between us, along with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Spencer had insisted on helping me carry everything up from my car earlier, and now he was inspecting one of the sugar cookies with a level of scrutiny that made me laugh.

“It’s just a cookie, Spence,” I said, nudging him playfully.

“Actually, there’s a fascinating history behind sugar cookies,” he began, his face lighting up. “They originated in Pennsylvania in the 1700s—”

I held up a hand, laughing. “Let me stop you right there. No cookie history tonight. We’re watching Rudolph, and that’s final.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine. But if I’m going to sit through stop-motion reindeer, I expect at least one scientific inaccuracy to discuss.”

We settled into the couch, the opening credits of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playing softly in the background. Spencer was surprisingly into it, occasionally pointing out character dynamics or chuckling at the outdated animation.

By the time the movie ended, I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. Spencer had relaxed completely, his usual guarded demeanor replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “this is the first Christmas Eve I haven’t spent alone in… a long time.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. I turned to him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“You’re not alone now,” I said softly.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For this. For… everything.”

I smiled, reaching out to place my hand over his. “You don’t have to thank me, Spence. I’m just glad you’re here.”

For a moment, we just sat there, the silence between us filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

“You know,” he said, his voice hesitant, “I’ve always found it hard to connect with people. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.”

My breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s easy with you too, Spencer,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

He hesitated, then took a small, tentative step closer. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I… I think this might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” he said, his cheeks flushing slightly.

I felt my heart swell at his words, and before I could overthink it, I leaned in and kissed his cheek, letting my lips linger for just a moment. His skin was warm, and I felt him freeze slightly before relaxing under the soft touch.

When I pulled back, he was staring at me, his eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between us, and pressed his lips gently against mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, a perfect mix of shyness and intent.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were bright red, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, his voice full of warmth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” I replied, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

And as we sat there, the glow of the Christmas tree wrapping us in its warmth, I couldn’t help but think that this—being here with him—was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

a/n: I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a peaceful holiday season.

[little-jana]

"Unspoken"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: heated, no smut, fluffy ending

Warnings: kissing, flirting

Words: 1.1k

Summary: The tension finally snaps...

The air in the room felt heavier than usual, though that could’ve been the exhaustion finally catching up with me. Another late night, another grueling case, and I should’ve been too tired to feel anything but the ache in my bones. But sitting here, across the table from Spencer Reid, exhaustion was the last thing on my mind.

We’d wrapped up the case hours ago, yet neither of us had left the precinct. The others had trickled out one by one, but Spencer and I lingered, tying up loose ends or pretending to. In truth, I wasn’t sure why I stayed—why I always stayed when he was around.

He was typing furiously on his laptop, his hair falling into his eyes in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back. He always worked like this—laser-focused, utterly absorbed—but tonight, there was something different.

He’d been quieter than usual, his responses clipped, his gaze sharper. I couldn’t figure out if it was the case or something else entirely. But every time his eyes flicked to me, the heat in his stare was enough to make my pulse quicken.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly, not looking up from his screen. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that made my breath hitch.

“I’m not,” I lied, though my voice betrayed me.

He glanced at me then, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly perceptive way of his. “You are.”

I crossed my arms, trying to look unbothered. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to finish so we can leave.”

He smirked, a small, barely-there curve of his lips that made my stomach flip. “You could’ve left hours ago.”

“And miss the pleasure of your company?” I shot back, my tone more teasing than I intended.

His smirk grew, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Is that what this is? Pleasure?”

My cheeks burned, and I looked away, pretending to be very interested in the file on the table in front of me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Reid.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, his voice softer now, but there was something in it that made me look at him.

His eyes were locked on mine, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to breathe. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, and I could feel my resolve slipping with every passing second.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, my own voice shaky.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away either. The tension between us was unbearable, a charged current that neither of us seemed willing to break.

“You do this,” I said finally, my words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Do what?”

“This,” I said, gesturing between us. “You... stare at me like that. Like you’re waiting for something.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to deny it. But then he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and the look in his eyes made my heart stop.

“Maybe I am,” he said, his voice low and rough.

The air between us crackled, and I felt my pulse hammering in my ears. “Spencer...”

He stood then, rounding the table in a few quick strides until he was standing right in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, and the heat radiating off him was enough to make my knees weak.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Say what?” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I could form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I...” My voice faltered as his fingers trailed down, brushing against my jaw. “I can’t.”

His eyes softened, but the intensity didn’t waver. “Why not?”

“Because,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s... it’s not appropriate.”

He smiled then, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that made my breath hitch. “Since when do you care about what’s appropriate?”

“Spencer,” I said again, his name coming out as more of a plea this time.

“Tell me,” he urged, his hand still lingering on my face.

“I...” I hesitated, my mind warring with itself. But then his thumb brushed against my cheek, and the dam inside me broke. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He exhaled sharply, his hand dropping to my waist as he closed the remaining distance between us. “Good,” he murmured, his lips so close to mine that I could feel his breath. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away as his lips claimed mine, soft and insistent. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees buckle.

I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. The tension that had been simmering between us for weeks finally erupted, and it was overwhelming, all-consuming.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, and his forehead rested against mine.

“Wow,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He chuckled softly, his hands still on my waist. “Yeah. Wow.”

I looked up at him, my cheeks flushed, and for the first time, I saw him smile—a real, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

“Me too,” I said, my own voice barely above a whisper.

His smile grew, and he leaned down, pressing another kiss to my lips, softer this time but no less intense.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his lips on mine, I knew there was no going back.

[little-jana]

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

[little-jana]

"Under The Mistletoe"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Another Mistletoe kiss with Spencer.

a/n: I just love love love these chrismas ff with Spencer. What do u think?

The BAU’s Christmas party was winding down, but the bullpen still sparkled with warm, holiday cheer. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the desks, Penelope’s carefully curated playlist hummed in the background, and the scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air. I stood by the snack table, munching on a sugar cookie, my eyes wandering to Spencer Reid.

He was sitting near the bookshelf, his legs crossed awkwardly, a mug of eggnog in one hand and a book resting in the other. He wasn’t reading, though. His gaze flicked up every few seconds, catching mine before darting back down.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” JJ teased as she passed by, balancing her own plate of cookies.

“I talk to him all the time,” I said, feigning indifference.

JJ just gave me a knowing smile. “Sure you do.”

She wasn’t wrong, though. I did talk to Spencer all the time. I was one of the few people he seemed comfortable enough to really open up to, and our conversations were some of the highlights of my day. But tonight, under the glow of Christmas lights, something felt… different.

I crossed the room, weaving through clusters of my teammates, until I reached his corner. He looked up, startled, when I sat down next to him.

“Hey,” I said, smiling.

“Hey,” he replied, setting his mug down. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“It’s nice,” he said, his voice soft. “A little overwhelming, but nice.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “I saw you reading earlier. What is it this time? Something festive?”

He hesitated, glancing at the book before sliding it toward me. It was a leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol.

“Classic,” I said, impressed.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he admitted. “There’s something timeless about it—Scrooge’s transformation, the idea that it’s never too late to change.”

“Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning in a Christmas story,” I teased.

Spencer smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “It’s a good story.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But you know, you’ve been staring at that same page for the past ten minutes.”

His cheeks flushed, and he quickly closed the book. “I, uh… I got distracted.”

“By what?” I asked, leaning forward, curious.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, avoiding my gaze.

“Spencer,” I said, my tone teasing. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. I might have been… looking at you.”

That caught me off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his face growing redder by the second. “You just… you look really nice tonight.”

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Spencer Reid, the man who could rattle off statistics about anything and everything, was suddenly flustered.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my own cheeks warming. “You look nice too.”

Before he could respond, Penelope’s voice rang out across the room.

“Attention, everyone!” she called, clapping her hands. “It’s time for our favorite holiday tradition—mistletoe!”

The room erupted into cheers and groans as Penelope grabbed her sprig of mistletoe and started weaving her way through the crowd, stopping pairs and insisting they partake in the tradition.

“Oh, no,” Spencer muttered, sinking deeper into his chair.

“Oh, yes,” I said, grinning. “You’re not getting out of this one, genius.”

“I don’t see why mistletoe is such a big deal,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Did you know it’s actually a parasitic plant? It attaches itself to a host tree and siphons off nutrients to survive.”

“You really know how to kill the mood, don’t you?” I teased.

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Penelope appeared beside us, brandishing the mistletoe like a weapon.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do we have here? My two favorite geniuses hiding in the corner?”

“We’re not hiding,” I said quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Penelope said, clearly unconvinced. She dangled the mistletoe above our heads. “Rules are rules, my friends.”

Spencer groaned softly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Spence,” I said, leaning closer.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “You know,” he said quietly, “hands actually transfer more germs than mouths. Statistically, this is the safer option.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

“I—well—I didn’t mean—”

“Spencer,” I said, cutting him off. “Relax. It’s just a kiss.”

And before he could overthink it, I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against his.

The room seemed to fade away, the laughter and music melting into the background. His lips were warm, tentative at first, but as he relaxed, the kiss deepened just slightly, a perfect mix of sweetness and surprise.

When we finally pulled back, his eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed.

“That… wasn’t so bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I agreed, smiling. “It wasn’t.”

Penelope clapped her hands, breaking the spell. “That was adorable!”

Spencer groaned again, burying his face in his hands, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, genius,” I said, nudging him playfully. “Let’s go find some more eggnog.”

As we walked back toward the party, I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe mistletoe wasn’t so bad after all.

[little-jana]

Mistletoe Series: 🎄David Rossi (4)

"Holiday Wisdom"

Pairing: mentor!David Rossi x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fatherfigure!Rossi, talk of burnout, forehead kiss

Words: 1.5k

Summary: A fatherly kiss under the mistletoe from a certain Italian.

The BAU Christmas party was in full swing, and it was exactly what I expected from Penelope Garcia—a riot of color and glitter. The bullpen was draped in twinkling lights, garlands hung from every corner, and ornaments dangled from desks and cubicles. The crowning touch was the mistletoe—strategically placed in seemingly every doorway and corner of the room.

It was festive, cheerful, and a little overwhelming. I sipped at a mug of cider, lingering by the dessert table, watching my team. Emily and JJ were by the bar, laughing over something Derek had said. Spencer was standing in a corner, deep in conversation with Rossi, no doubt unloading a detailed history of holiday traditions. Hotch was nearby, his rare, faint smile softened by the glow of the lights.

This was my family. My sometimes dysfunctional, always dependable family. And tonight, for once, we weren’t chasing monsters or piecing together the horrors of human behavior. We were just… us.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I turned to see David Rossi standing beside me, a wine glass in hand, his expression equal parts amused and curious.

“Trying to,” I said with a small smile. “It’s a bit much.”

He smirked, gesturing around the room. “That’s Garcia for you. Go big or go home.”

“She definitely went big,” I replied, my smile widening.

Rossi chuckled, his rich, warm laugh cutting through the noise of the party. “You look like you could use something stronger than cider.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What, like your fancy Chianti?”

He held up his glass, swirling the deep red liquid. “Chianti Classico. Pairs beautifully with everything, including over-the-top Christmas parties.”

“Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” he said, smirking.

There was something comforting about Rossi’s presence. He had a way of grounding people, of offering guidance without being overbearing. From the moment I joined the team, he’d taken me under his wing, doling out advice, teasing me when I needed it, and giving me the occasional nudge in the right direction.

“Seriously, though,” he said, his tone softening. “How are you holding up?”

I hesitated, knowing he’d see through any attempt to brush off the question. “I’m okay,” I said finally. “It’s just… a lot. The cases, the travel, the holidays. Sometimes it feels like I don’t know how to stop.”

Rossi nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s the thing about this job. It doesn’t leave much room for balance. But you need to find it, Y/N. Burnout doesn’t just happen—it builds. You’ve got to know when to step back.”

I smiled faintly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” he admitted. “But it’s necessary. Trust me, I’ve been where you are. It’s easy to pour everything into the job and forget about yourself in the process. But if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone else.”

I looked at him, surprised by the earnestness in his voice. “You’re really good at this, you know. The whole dad thing.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I prefer to think of myself as an older, wiser mentor. But if you want to call me your BAU dad, I won’t argue.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, Rossi. I mean it.”

He smiled, the kind of warm, genuine smile that always managed to put me at ease.

“Y/N!”

We both turned as Penelope bounded toward us, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She had a sprig of mistletoe in one hand and a step ladder in the other, and I immediately knew where this was going.

“Oh, no,” I muttered.

“Oh, yes,” Penelope said, grinning. “You two are standing in the *perfect* spot.”

“Garcia,” Rossi said, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“Don’t even try to argue,” she said, cutting him off. “Rules are rules. Mistletoe means you’ve got to kiss.”

I groaned, glancing up to confirm that, yes, we were indeed standing directly under a sprig of mistletoe. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s tradition!” Penelope said, crossing her arms. “And you know how I feel about tradition.”

Rossi sighed, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. “Fine. But I’m doing this my way.”

Before I could protest, Rossi turned to me, his gaze soft. He stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” he said quietly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

It wasn’t romantic or awkward—it was warm, reassuring, and full of affection. The kind of gesture that reminded me just how much Rossi cared, even if he rarely said it outright.

I blinked up at him, my heart unexpectedly full. “Merry Christmas, Rossi,” I said softly.

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine, that was adorable. Not what I was going for, but I’ll take it.”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, Garcia.”

She flounced off in search of her next mistletoe victims, leaving us standing there.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, looking up at him.

“For what?”

“For… being you,” I said, feeling a little foolish but meaning every word.

Rossi smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Anytime, kid.”

As the party continued around us, I couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for Rossi, but for all of it. This team, this family.

And in that moment, under the twinkling lights and the ridiculous mistletoe, I realized just how lucky I was to have them.

[little-jana]

Mistletoe Series:🎄 Aaron Hotchner (3)

"Unexpected Holiday Tradition"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, light teasing from the team

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Kisses under the mistletoe with a certain Unit Chief.

The BAU Christmas party was in full swing, and I had to admit Penelope had outdone herself. Lights twinkled from every surface, tables were crowded with snacks and desserts, and holiday music hummed in the background. It was festive, cheerful, and undeniably… over the top.

Still, I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned against a corner of the room, sipping cider and watching my colleagues try to outdo each other in holiday cheer. Emily and JJ were near the dessert table, laughing at something Spencer was animatedly explaining with his usual flurry of facts. Derek stood by the bar, exchanging good-natured jabs with Rossi, while Garcia flitted from group to group, practically glowing with holiday spirit.

And then there was Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch was standing a few feet away, dressed casually for once in a charcoal sweater and dark slacks. His serious expression didn’t entirely suit the festive surroundings, but then again, when did Hotch ever let himself relax? Still, I caught him watching the team with the faintest hint of a smile, his dark eyes softening as he watched his family—the family he’d built, protected, and held together through so much.

I didn’t realize I was staring until he glanced over at me, catching my gaze. His lips twitched upward in that almost-smile of his, and I felt my cheeks heat. Quickly, I turned my attention back to my drink, pretending to examine the sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling nearby.

“Caught you,” a familiar voice teased.

I turned to see Emily, a knowing grin on her face. She nudged me playfully. “You’ve been staring at Hotch for at least five minutes.”

“I wasn’t staring,” I protested, though I knew it was futile.

“Oh, please,” Emily said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s painfully obvious. You’ve got a thing for him.”

“I do not!” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard.

Emily smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N. And by the way, he’s been staring at you too.”

“Emily—”

Before I could argue further, Spencer appeared, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Hey, uh, do either of you know why Garcia’s carrying a ladder around the office?”

Emily and I both turned to look, and sure enough, Penelope was weaving her way through the crowd with a step ladder in tow, a determined gleam in her eye.

“She’s probably adding more mistletoe,” Emily said dryly. “She’s been on a mission to make this party as romantic as possible. If you’re not careful, Spence, she might trap you under one.”

Spencer frowned. “Statistically speaking, the chances of actually kissing under mistletoe are quite low. Though, if someone did follow through, it would likely lead to an increased spread of germs. Kissing transmits fewer germs than shaking hands, but it’s still not entirely risk-free—”

“Thanks for the insight, boy wonder,” Emily interrupted, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a real charmer.”

Spencer looked vaguely insulted but didn’t argue as Emily sauntered off, leaving me alone with him.

“She’s right, you know,” he said after a moment.

“About what?” I asked.

“That Hotch has been staring at you,” Spencer said matter-of-factly.

I nearly choked on my cider. “Spencer!”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “I’m just stating an observation. And to be fair, you’ve been staring at him too. Statistically speaking, mutual attraction—”

“Okay, okay!” I said, cutting him off. “I get it.”

Spencer gave me a small, satisfied nod, then wandered off to the snack table, leaving me flustered and thoroughly annoyed with how obvious I apparently was.

---

As the night wore on, I tried to avoid making a fool of myself, though it was easier said than done with Penelope popping up every few minutes, determined to orchestrate a romantic mistletoe moment for someone—anyone.

“Y/N!” she called suddenly, appearing out of nowhere with her ladder and a look of pure mischief. “I need your help.”

“With what?” I asked warily.

“This,” she said, gesturing to a sprig of mistletoe she’d just hung in the middle of the room. “I’m trying to position it perfectly, and you’ve got an eye for detail. Come here.”

Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and dragged me under the mistletoe.

“Pen—”

“Shh!” she said, grinning. “Stay right there.”

And then, as if on cue, Aaron Hotchner appeared.

“Garcia,” he said in that calm, authoritative tone of his, “what are you doing?”

She turned to him, her grin widening. “Just spreading some holiday cheer, boss.”

Hotch’s gaze shifted to me, and then to the mistletoe overhead. His expression didn’t change, but I saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Is this necessary?” he asked Penelope, his tone mildly exasperated.

“Absolutely,” she said, crossing her arms. “Rules are rules, Hotch. You’re under the mistletoe, and so is Y/N. You know what that means.”

“Garcia…” Hotch began again, but she cut him off.

“No excuses!” she said, stepping back and gesturing dramatically. “This is your moment. Don’t waste it.”

I wanted to disappear. The room had gone quiet, all eyes on us, and I could feel my cheeks burning.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, avoiding Hotch’s gaze. “She’s impossible.”

Hotch sighed, but there was a softness to his expression as he turned back to me. “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. Then, after a moment, he added, “Do you want me to?”

I blinked, startled by the question. “What?”

“Kiss you,” he clarified, his voice so low I almost didn’t hear him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

My heart was racing, my breath hitching at the thought of Aaron Hotchner kissing me. I glanced up at him, searching his dark eyes for any hint of teasing or insincerity, but all I saw was warmth and… something else.

“I wouldn’t mind,” I said softly.

That was all the permission he needed. He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine as he leaned in. His lips were warm and soft against mine, and the kiss was gentle, tentative—at first. But when I didn’t pull away, his hand came to rest lightly on my waist, and the kiss deepened, stealing the breath from my lungs.

When we finally broke apart, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Penelope was practically jumping up and down with excitement, and even Spencer looked vaguely amused.

Hotch straightened, his hand lingering on my waist as he turned to face the team. “All right,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “That’s enough.”

“Not enough!” Garcia shouted, grinning. “That was amazing!”

Hotch sighed, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles. Then he looked back at me, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We’ll talk later?”

I nodded, my heart still racing. “Yeah. Later.”

And as he stepped away, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that “later” was going to be the best Christmas present I could’ve asked for.

[little-jana]

Mistletoe Series: 🎄Derek Morgan (2)

"Under the Mistletoe"

Pairing: Derek Morgan x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, light teasing from the team

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Kisses under the mistletoe with a certain cocky Agent.

The BAU Christmas party was in full swing, and Garcia, as usual, had gone all out. The office was transformed into a winter wonderland—twinkling fairy lights hung from the ceiling, garlands wrapped around desks, and strategically placed mistletoe dangled from nearly every doorway.

I was standing by the snack table, nibbling on a sugar cookie and sipping some cider, when Derek Morgan walked in, his presence as commanding as ever. He wasn’t wearing a Santa hat like Penelope had begged him to earlier, but he still looked effortlessly festive in a deep green sweater that made his brown eyes gleam.

He caught my eye from across the room, and his lips curved into that signature smirk that always sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said as he sauntered over. “You holding up okay?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. “I’m surviving. Though Garcia might’ve gone a little overboard with the mistletoe this year.”

Derek chuckled, glancing at the sprig hanging nearby. “Yeah, she’s trying to turn this party into her own personal Hallmark movie. Anyone fallen victim to it yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, shaking my head. “Though I’m sure she’s plotting something.”

“Hmm,” Derek said, his gaze drifting back to me. “You better watch out, then. Knowing Penelope, she’s probably got her eye on you.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed, though my cheeks warmed under his teasing smile. “I’m not the one she’s after. You, on the other hand…”

Derek laughed, the sound warm and rich. “You think I’m her target?”

I shrugged, a grin tugging at my lips. “Well, you are the most eligible bachelor in the room.”

His eyebrows lifted, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping into that low, playful tone that always made my heart race. “Most eligible bachelor, huh? Is that your way of saying you’re interested?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. “I—what? No, that’s not what I meant!”

Derek laughed again, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just messing with you.”

I shook my head, muttering under my breath. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” he shot back, his smirk widening.

---

The night wore on, and I found myself wandering through the main room, taking in the decorations. Most of the team was busy chatting or laughing near the bar, but I noticed Derek standing off to the side, his arms crossed as he watched the festivities with a thoughtful expression.

I approached him, feeling a tug of curiosity. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He turned to me, his smile softening. “Just thinking about how lucky we are to have a team like this. We’ve seen so much darkness this year… it’s nice to have a night like this.”

I nodded, my chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget the good stuff sometimes.”

Derek’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a strange warmth settle between us. Then, his expression shifted, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes.

“You know,” he said, nodding upward, “you’re standing under mistletoe.”

I froze, glancing up to confirm that, yes, there was a sprig of mistletoe dangling directly above my head. “Oh. I guess I am.”

He stepped closer, his grin turning into something more playful. “You know the rules, right?”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “I’m familiar with them.”

Derek’s voice dropped, low and teasing. “So, what’s it gonna be, beautiful? You gonna let me kiss you, or are you gonna break tradition?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My brain was too busy short-circuiting at the thought of Derek Morgan kissing me.

Before I could decide, Penelope’s voice rang out from across the room.

“KISS HER!” she shouted, clapping her hands excitedly.

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, looks like Garcia made the decision for us.”

He leaned in, his hands settling lightly on my hips as his warm breath brushed against my cheek. My eyes fluttered shut, and then his lips were on mine—soft, warm, and utterly intoxicating.

The kiss started slow, almost tentative, but when I didn’t pull away, Derek deepened it, his hands tightening on my waist as he pulled me closer. My heart was racing, my entire body humming with electricity, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the moment.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my cheeks flushed. Derek grinned down at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well,” he said, his voice husky, “that was better than I expected.”

I laughed, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Better than you expected? Should I be offended?”

“Not at all,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re full of surprises, sweetheart.”

Before I could respond, the sound of clapping and cheering filled the room. I turned to see the entire team watching us, grinning like a bunch of teenagers.

“Oh, my God,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Derek laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, beautiful. They’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” I peeked up at him, still mortified.

“Well,” he said, his tone teasing, “you do make a pretty big impression.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face. As embarrassing as the moment was, I couldn’t deny that it was… perfect.

And judging by the way Derek’s hand lingered on my waist and the warmth in his smile, I had a feeling he thought so too.

[little-jana]

Mistletoe Series:🎄 Spencer Reid (1)

"Mistletoe Logic"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, talk of germs, use of Y/N, teasing from the team

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Kisses under the mistletoe with a certain Genius.

The annual FBI Christmas party was in full swing, and, as always, Penelope Garcia had outdone herself. Twinkling lights decorated every available surface, carols played softly in the background, and a garland of mistletoe sprigs hung conspicuously in every corner.

I stood by the refreshment table, watching the festivities with a cup of cider in hand. The team was scattered across the room—Derek and Penelope were in the middle of some heated dance-off, Emily was laughing with JJ near the bar, and Rossi was holding court in a corner, regaling a small crowd with one of his legendary stories.

And then there was Spencer Reid, lingering by himself near the bookshelf. He looked as out of place as ever, standing stiffly in his dark cardigan and mismatched tie, nervously clutching a glass of water.

Spencer had always intrigued me. He was brilliant—everyone knew that—but there was something else about him. A quiet charm, a vulnerability that made him different from anyone I’d ever met.

I made my way over, feeling a familiar flutter of nerves. “Hey, Spence,” I said, smiling as I stopped beside him. “Enjoying the party?”

He glanced at me, his lips twitching upward in the smallest of smiles. “As much as one can enjoy an event that combines loud music, forced social interaction, and a statistically significant increase in the risk of spilled drinks.”

I laughed, sipping my cider. “So, not really your thing, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike parties. It’s just… overwhelming sometimes.”

I nodded, leaning against the wall beside him. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not exactly the life of the party either.”

He looked at me, his smile softening. “I doubt that. You’re… easy to talk to.”

My cheeks warmed at the compliment, and I quickly changed the subject. “So, what do you think of Garcia’s decorations? She really went all out this year.”

Spencer followed my gaze to the mistletoe hanging nearby. “Actually, mistletoe is a fascinating plant. It’s parasitic, meaning it attaches itself to host trees to extract water and nutrients. The tradition of kissing under mistletoe dates back to ancient times, where it was associated with fertility and vitality in Norse mythology. Later, it became a symbol of romance during the Victorian era.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Only you could turn a Christmas decoration into a history lesson.”

“It’s just interesting,” he said, his expression earnest. “Most people don’t know the origins of these traditions.”

“Well,” I teased, “if you’re not careful, someone might drag you under one of those sprigs and force you to participate in its ‘romantic’ significance.”

Spencer’s ears turned pink. “That seems… unlikely.”

I laughed, but before I could reply, Penelope appeared out of nowhere, clutching a Santa hat and grinning mischievously.

“Y/N! Boy genius!” she exclaimed, pulling us both toward the dance floor. “Why are you hiding over here like a pair of wallflowers? Come mingle!”

“I’m fine here,” Spencer protested, but Penelope was already dragging him into the crowd.

---

A while later, I found myself near the center of the room, chatting with JJ and Emily about holiday plans. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Spencer hovering nearby, his gaze flicking between me and the mistletoe hanging overhead.

“You’ve got an admirer,” Emily teased, following my gaze.

JJ smirked. “Yeah, he’s been watching you all night. It’s cute.”

I shook my head, laughing nervously. “Spencer? No way. He’s just... socially awkward.”

“Socially awkward or not, he’s definitely got a thing for you,” Emily said, her tone teasing.

Before I could respond, Derek and Penelope approached, and Derek immediately noticed the mistletoe above my head.

“Well, well,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Looks like someone’s under the mistletoe.”

I rolled my eyes, about to make a sarcastic comment, when Spencer suddenly appeared at my side, his face bright red.

“She’s not technically under the mistletoe,” he blurted out, pointing to the sprig. “The angle is slightly off. It’s more to the left.”

The entire group burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile at his endearing awkwardness.

“Aw, come on, genius,” Penelope said, nudging him playfully. “Don’t ruin the magic! This is your chance!”

Spencer looked utterly mortified, but before anyone could push him further, I took pity on him and pulled him aside.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” I said with a laugh.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to save you. I just… wanted to clarify the logistics.”

“Of course you did,” I teased, crossing my arms. “But, you know, you still owe me a kiss now.”

His eyes widened, his cheeks flushing even deeper. “What?”

I tilted my head toward the mistletoe. “It’s tradition, remember? And I don’t think anyone will believe your ‘angle’ excuse.”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly torn. Finally, he blurted out, “Did you know that more germs are transmitted through handshakes than through kissing?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Um… no, I didn’t.”

“It’s true,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in that familiar, rapid-fire way he spoke when he was nervous. “A study conducted in 2014 found that a typical handshake transfers more than twice as many bacteria as a kiss. Skin-to-skin contact, especially with hands, is one of the most common ways germs are transmitted.”

I stared at him, trying not to laugh. “So what you’re saying is… kissing would be safer than shaking hands?”

His cheeks flushed even darker. “Well, technically, yes.”

I stepped closer, my heart fluttering as I looked up into his wide, uncertain eyes. “Spencer, are you trying to talk me into kissing you right now?”

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… if you wanted to…”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his vulnerability. “You know, for a genius, you’re not very good at subtlety.”

Before he could respond, I leaned up on my toes, cupping his face gently as I pressed my lips to his. He froze for a heartbeat, and I worried I’d misread the situation, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands hovering near my waist before settling there.

His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly confident as the kiss deepened. It was sweet and tentative at first, but there was something electric about it, something that made my entire body hum with warmth.

When we finally pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and his lips slightly parted.

“Well,” I said softly, my own cheeks warm, “I guess that settles it. Kissing is definitely safer.”

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his gaze never leaving mine. “I think I need to conduct further research.”

From across the room, I heard Derek shout, “Finally!”

I turned to see the entire team watching us, grinning like lunatics.

“About time!” Emily called, raising her glass in mock celebration.

Penelope clasped her hands together, looking near tears. “This is the greatest Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

I laughed, pulling his hands away and smiling up at him. “Don’t worry, Spence. I think it’s kind of perfect.”

And as the team toasted and teased us mercilessly, I couldn’t help but agree.

[little-jana]

Do we have some the Witcher/Henry Cavill fans here? I have some fic ideas in my head 🤭

[little-jana]

"Lessons In Love"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: flufffff

Warnings: case talk about a missing child (nothing descriptive), kissing, just two cuties , use of Y/N

Words: 2k

Summary: It was only a matter of time before the carefully constructed love bubble would burst.

Aaron and I had been together for nearly a year, and in all that time, we lived our lives in quiet stolen moments. Our relationship existed in private—his hands brushing mine while he made coffee before work, the way his face softened when he walked through the door after a long case, how he’d pull me into his arms at night like he couldn’t stand the space between us.

But outside our home, Aaron Hotchner was the stoic, untouchable Unit Chief of the BAU. His work was dangerous; his world, a sharp contrast to mine.

“I keep you separate because I have to,” he told me once, his voice thick with guilt. “If anyone knew about you… if anything happened to you…”

I understood why he was cautious. I’d seen the toll his job took on him. I’d comforted him through long nights when his mind was too heavy with what he’d seen, so I never pushed. But deep down, I knew our secret wouldn’t last forever.

It turned out, forever ended on a Tuesday.

---

It started like any other morning. I was in my classroom, arranging my desk as my third-graders filed in, when I noticed the uneasy buzz spreading through the staff. Hushed whispers in the hall. Nervous glances. A heavy air that I hadn’t felt before.

Then the principal stepped in.

“Y/N,” she said gently, “the FBI is here. They need to speak with the teachers about a missing child.”

My heart dropped. I nodded, trying to push down the twisting anxiety in my stomach. “Of course. Let me get my students settled, and I’ll come.”

When I walked into the teacher’s lounge fifteen minutes later, I froze.

There he was—Aaron Hotchner, standing at the head of the room in his sharp suit, his expression stoic and professional. His team flanked him—Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia. Faces I’d seen in stories Aaron told when he couldn’t help but share bits of his work.

For a moment, he didn’t notice me. His focus was on the teachers, explaining the situation in his calm, authoritative voice. But when his gaze swept over the room and landed on me, I saw it—the brief flicker of surprise, the subtle tightening of his jaw.

He recovered quickly, though, his professionalism unshaken. To anyone else, I was just another teacher.

But later, when his team spread out to interview the staff, our paths inevitably crossed again. I’d just answered a series of questions from Emily Prentiss when I found Aaron waiting by my classroom door.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine,” I said, matching his tone. “You didn’t have to check on me, Aaron. I know the drill.”

He looked down the empty hall, clearly torn between what he wanted to say and what he *should* say. “I don’t like you being involved in this.”

“I work here,” I reminded him gently. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath, stepping back. “Stay close to your classroom for now,” he said before walking briskly away.

---

I stayed late after school, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me. It was well past dismissal when I finally grabbed my coat and bag, heading toward the parking lot. I had just reached the doors when I heard raised voices ahead.

“Hotch, seriously?” That was unmistakably Derek Morgan. “What’s the rush? We can handle this.”

“I’ll meet you back at the station,” Aaron’s familiar voice replied, firm but with an edge of irritation.

“No, no,” Derek said, clearly not letting it go. “We’re not leaving you behind. What are you doing here after hours anyway?”

I rounded the corner just in time to see Aaron standing by his car, with Morgan, Emily, and Spencer blocking his way. Aaron looked uncharacteristically flustered, his hands on his hips, his jaw set.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said evenly.

Morgan grinned. “Oh, come on, Hotch. This is so suspicious. Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling us?”

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but then I walked straight into view. For a moment, everything froze.

Derek turned his head, spotting me. “Oh,” he said slowly, looking me up and down.

I stopped dead, feeling four pairs of eyes land on me. “Um…”

Aaron straightened. “Y/N.”

The team stared at him. Then stared at me.

“Wait a minute,” Emily said, narrowing her eyes. “Why do I feel like you know each other?”

Spencer blinked. “Statistically speaking, the odds of coincidence here are—”

“Not the time, Reid,” Derek interrupted. His gaze shifted between Aaron and me, realization dawning. “Hotch. No way. This is the reason you’ve been so uptight today? You got a crush?”

Aaron let out a breath, clearly realizing the jig was up. He glanced at me apologetically before stepping closer, placing a gentle hand on my lower back. “This is Y/N,” he said, his tone cautious but resolute. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Silence.

Emily’s eyebrows shot up. Penelope’s eyes practically sparkled. Derek’s jaw dropped, his grin widening. “Wait, wait, wait. You have a girlfriend?”

“Since when?” Spencer asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Aaron sighed, his hand still resting on my back as though anchoring both of us. “For a while now.”

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. “Hotch, you sly dog. How did you keep this under wraps for so long?”

“I’m standing right here,” I interjected, half amused and half mortified.

Penelope practically squealed. “Oh my god, this is the cutest thing ever. I had no idea our boss could actually date. Like, romantically.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting everything about this moment. “We kept it private for a reason.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I cannot wait to tell Rossi about this.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aaron shot back, his voice carrying that unmistakable Unit Chief authority.

I couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to rest my hand on Aaron’s arm. “Well, it was bound to happen eventually.”

He looked down at me, a small smile softening his features. “I guess so.”

Emily smirked, crossing her arms. “Don’t worry, Hotch. We’ll go easy on you. *For now.*”

As the team dispersed—still grinning and muttering teasing remarks—I turned to Aaron. He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and affection, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he took my hand.

“You’re never going to hear the end of this, you know,” I teased.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “As long as you’re safe, I don’t care.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I said softly.

Aaron’s eyes warmed as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the secret was out—but as I watched him walk me to my car, his team still watching us with curious smiles, I realized I didn’t mind one bit.

[little-jana]

I have something Christmassy in mind. Something with beautiful mistletoe and the men from Criminal Minds. Are you interested?

[little-jana]

"Not A Secret Anymore"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: light teasing, use of Y/N

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Spencer Reid’s carefully hidden relationship with his girlfriend is exposed when the BAU accidentally meets her.

I always knew Spencer Reid was a man of secrets—worn-out book covers hiding chapters of untold stories. From the moment we started dating, nearly a year ago, he’d made one thing clear: our relationship needed to remain private. Not because he was ashamed, or unsure about us—he wasn’t. No, it was because of his job, his team, the life he led with the BAU.

“I’ve seen what can happen to people we love,” he’d told me one night as we lay tangled together in the sheets, his voice soft but heavy with a weight I couldn’t fully understand. “If they knew about you… if someone used you against me, I couldn’t—” He’d stopped mid-sentence, his throat tight with emotion. I didn’t push. I knew enough to know his fears were justified.

And so, we stayed our little secret. A quiet life in the small apartment we shared, where we read books late into the night, cooked terrible meals together, and danced to old records in our socks. He loved me here—behind locked doors, between whispered I-love-you’s, and in stolen glances that made my heart pound.

I loved him too, so much so that I never questioned it.

But secrets don’t stay secrets forever.

---

The day started like any other. I’d woken up to find the bed empty, the scent of Spencer’s coffee lingering in the air. He’d already left for work, as usual, leaving behind a scribbled note on the kitchen counter.

“Case came in early. I’ll call you when I can. I love you. – S.”

My heart swelled. He always did little things like that, never forgetting to remind me that I was loved, even when he was miles away chasing monsters. I kissed the note like a fool and went about my day, deciding to treat myself to a trip downtown for some shopping and a coffee.

I’d just stepped into my favorite café when it happened.

I noticed him before he noticed me. Spencer, standing just inside the entrance, wearing his FBI badge and a crisp suit that should’ve made him look unapproachable, but didn’t. The rest of his team flanked him, men and women I recognized only through Spencer’s stories. There was the confident Agent Morgan, the effortlessly glamorous Agent Prentiss, and the intimidating figure of Hotch. I didn’t need an introduction to know who they were.

Spencer was talking to one of the baristas, probably asking questions for the case they were working. For a brief moment, I thought I might slip past him unnoticed, ducking out through the side door before he could see me. But as I turned, coffee in hand, fate had other plans.

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice froze me in place. I turned back slowly, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. Spencer’s wide eyes landed on mine, and I watched as a mixture of surprise, panic, and something softer flickered across his face.

“Hi, Spence,” I said sheepishly, as though running into my secret FBI-agent boyfriend was the most normal thing in the world.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out, his voice a little higher than usual.

“Buying coffee?” I offered, raising the cup in my hand for emphasis.

The team was watching now, their eyes bouncing between me and Spencer with obvious curiosity. Agent Morgan was the first to speak, a sly grin creeping across his face.

“Wait, wait, wait. Reid, you *know* her?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. I bit my lip, suppressing a laugh. My poor genius. Utterly out of his element.

“Um,” he started, fidgeting with his tie in that adorable way he always did when he was nervous. “This is… uh… Y/N.”

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Prentiss teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

I decided to help him out. “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend,” I said matter-of-factly, taking a small sip of my coffee. The room seemed to freeze.

“Girlfriend?” Morgan echoed, his grin widening. “Reid, *you* have a girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us!”

Hotch gave Spencer a look that was somewhere between amused and stern. “Reid, how long has this been going on?”

Spencer swallowed hard, his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. I’d never seen him so flustered. “Uh… about a year,” he admitted, barely audible.

Prentiss whistled under her breath. “A year? Reid, are you kidding me? And we’re only just now finding out?”

Spencer looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. I took pity on him, stepping closer and slipping my hand into his. I felt his fingers relax slightly in mine, though his entire body was still tense. “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want me to get caught up in… well, the dangers of his job,” I explained softly, glancing up at him. “He just wanted to keep me safe.”

His eyes met mine then, softening as he squeezed my hand. For a moment, it was like we were the only two people in the room. “I just couldn’t risk anything happening to you,” he murmured, his voice low so only I could hear. “You’re everything to me.”

My heart melted. God, I loved this man.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spencer Reid,” I whispered back, smiling.

Morgan groaned playfully. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. I still can’t believe Reid had a girlfriend this whole time.”

“Believe it,” I said with a smirk, leaning into Spencer’s side. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer looked down at me then, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and relief. I could see the tension leaving his shoulders, the weight of the secret finally lifted. Maybe this wasn’t how he’d planned for his team to find out, but I knew it didn’t matter anymore.

Because now, we didn’t have to hide.

As the team ribbed Spencer and made jokes about meeting me sooner, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling his skin burn under my lips. He shot me a look, a mixture of affection and exasperation, but he was smiling.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” he muttered.

“Never,” I replied, grinning.

And as Spencer Reid’s team finally welcomed me into the fold, teasing him relentlessly while secretly happy that their beloved genius had found someone, he squeezed my hand and smiled at me in that way only he could.

I was his secret for a while, but now everyone knew. And as Spencer looked at me like I was his whole world, I realized that I didn’t mind. Because to him, I was.

[little-jana]

I feel like my Spencer Reid imagines are being received much better. What do you think? Do you want more Spencer Reid?