#because physical work is off the table i've absolutely ruined our body this way

[janebonbon]

new years resolution,,,,,,,,,,, draw more barnaby. end post

[lucidfallacy]

Spencer Reid x Reader 18+ (Part One)

If there's one thing that pisses me off, more than absolutely anything, it's chasing after an uninterested man. Actually, uninterested is an understatement, I think he straight up hates my fucking guts. I suck my teeth, precisely painting on the last flick of eyeliner in my tiny apartment's bathroom mirror. Out of Control by She Wants Revenge echoes down the hall from my living room speakers, filling in the silence. Well, that concludes my spooky bops playlist I so perfectly curated. The chill bohemian vibe of my place and the three-wick bergamot candle burning on the coffee table are doing little to calm my nerves as I prepare for the annual BAU Halloween party. This is my favorite time of the year, my favorite holiday and I refuse to let boy genius ruin it for me.

The whole aesthetic of fall is right up my alley. The crimson and gold leaves line the city's parks, haunted houses, flannels, and cozy coffee dates. When was the last time I even went on a 'cozy' coffee date? I roll my eyes, open the cabinet mirror, and begin deciding on which perfume to waste tonight. Why do I even care if I smell good? My fingers instinctively land on my one hundred dollar bottle of YSL's Black Opium that I only save for special occasions. It works well with my skin chemistry, what can I say? I spritz myself across my neck, hair, and wrists.

As I close the mirror, I give myself one final look over. I'm wearing a long white bloodied dress with a black bow tied at the waist. I thrifted a matching black choker and long white satin gloves. My long raven hair is slicked back to give a wet illusion. I even have the whole sultry but natural makeup look going on and honestly some killer eyebrows. I've been dying to dress up as Jennifer from Jennifer's body since I was a teenager. Being a horror buff, I always find myself leaning toward the cult classics when it comes time to dress up each year for All Hallows Eve. I can only imagine what everyone else on the team is wearing. Penelope is going to show out for sure. She's the one who suggested we go bar hopping before the actual party, after all, so she must have something to show off. Spencer will probably dress up as Edgar Allen Poe with a stuffed crow perched on his shoulder, or some goofy shit. I think it's going to be just us girls bar crawling tonight though. JJ, Emily, Penelope, and I. The four musketeers. I've become endearingly close to each of them over the past year and it's insane how much they've taught me as a special agent. Penelope even threw some coding into my training for good measure.

Spencer likes to call it a fluke because I may be only 24, but I personally worked my ass off to get here. I have my Masters in criminal justice from the University of Pennsylvania and I minored in sociology, so I definitely fit the bill. What does his overqualified ass have? Like 4 bachelor's degrees and a Ph. Ds in math, science... blah blah fuck you, Dr. Reid. In my opinion, the testing speaks for itself. I scored only a point below his entry test scores with everything considered, but thanks to my physical capabilities I at least one-upped him there. There's plenty of room at work to be the 'smart kid' in class but for some reason, my presence and opinions only bother him. I had an idyllic impression of Spencer before joining the force after reading about him, thinking we were going to be besties. I even attended one of his psychology lectures a couple of years ago at my campus. But unfortunately, we are both participating in this never-ending game of cat and mouse, enjoying pissing each other off. And I hate to say it, but I really do love to see him mad. Some sort of weird switch flips in me when I get under his skin. The way his pupils dilate in those alluringly tired brown eyes. I mean, even Morgan calls him 'pretty boy.'

My phone buzzes around on my cluttered bathroom countertop with text messages from our girl's group chat. I catch it before it falls off.

Group Chat: Coffee Whores

Penelope: C'mon bitches lets go! Meet you at the Tipsy Pumpkin in 30min~

JJ: Just dropped off Henry and Michael, headed over in a bit :) <3

Emily: The Tipsy Pumpkin has a margarita flight I've been dying to try. Good pick girly ;)

Me: * Sends bathroom mirror selfie *

Me: What's the verdict ladies? Too much or not enough?

Penelope: ANNND you look hot. Next question-

Emily: I fear I am underdressed lol

I smile at my phone as I exit the bathroom continuing down the short corridor to make a pit stop by the living room, but I quicky forget why. Out on the balcony, my plants are flourishing, but I'll have to bring them in soon. I can feel the chill of October and the unmistakably smoky scent of an Autumn's night filtering in through the cracked sliding door. Below, downtown Washington's bustling streets are filled with more eccentric nightlife than usual. Trick or treating ended around 8 pm, so it's the adult's turn to have a little fun. It's nice to have nights like these with the team, I mean we pull almost 80-hour work weeks constantly if not traveling. But they all have families, children, and people who miss them when they're gone. And the only 'person' I have is my father, who was put away for a long time, hopefully forever. I would even testify for it. I may have inherited his love of horror movies and tattoos, but thankfully not his sick proclivities for slaughtering women. The case is still ongoing, so I'm trying to butt out of it until the Pennsylvania FBI unit needs my input.

My phone rings, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts over family drama. No caller ID? Usually, I decline these types of calls, but the FBI loves to keep their privacy. Maybe it's them.

Me: This is special agent L/N how can I help you?

Caller: Ah, special agent L/N... I like that

Me: Um, yes, and who might I be speaking to?

Caller: Miss L/N do you like scary movies?

Me: I'm sorry- what

Caller: Jennifer's body huh? You're really pushin' it. Going out looking like that-

My rapidly beating heart jumps up into my throat as I smash the big red hang up button. I stare at the black screen, wide-eyed. What. The. Fuck. I can't even block them because it's an unknown number. His voice was characteristically deep and gravelly like they were purposely concealing their true self. Take a deep breath L/N. In... out. I know I'm a profiler and this is a stupid, stupid decision, but I'm considering this a prank call. I giggle nervously to myself. Yeah how many other women are dressed up as Megan Fox tonight I mean come on, she's hot. Dude thinks he's Ghostface or some shit, ha. If he really wanted to scare me the fucker should've hidden in my closet with a pair of my pink panties on his head. I slide my hands over the sides of my dress as I collect myself. I'm not going to let Spencer OR some weird coincidence ruin my perfect night. Looking over at my kitchen stove, I see the time is now 8:32 pm. Oh shit, everyone is waiting on me. Walking over to my entryway I slip on a pair of black kitten heels before slipping my phone inside my stitched satchel bag and heading out the front door. Still, I can't help but double-check my deadbolt.

"You're fine, everything is fine," I remind myself under my breath as I walk towards the elevator and press the glowing call button.

The wait feels excruciatingly long as the elevator ascends to the 5th floor. My building is old, still carpeted with 80s-styled red stained rugs and peeling wallpaper. I never thought of it as eerie until this moment. The metal doors slide apart with a ding and as I step onto the lift, my anxieties don't settle. My mind is still plagued by impending doom, but I'm sure that's just the three cups of coffee I sucked down earlier talking. Yeah, I pre-gamed the pre-game. Caffeine makes the alcohol hit harder, studies show. It wouldn't be a good night unless I wake up tomorrow with a torrential hang-over. Wrestling with embarrassing memories of puking in Penelope's toilet before being tucked into a makeshift bed on her couch. The elevator doors squeak open to reveal the lobby and I practically skip out, excited for the comfort of being around friendly strangers in the street.