#fbi international x reader

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Budapest

Scott Forrester X Reader 

Y/N”s POV 

A/N: I hope you all like this and if you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work !! 

Working in Budapest with the fly team was a dream. The other dream was meeting the love of your life. 

Scott was amazing and even though he was technically your boss it didn’t stop the two of you. 

It did complicate things a little bit. Especially in the field because he wanted to protect you from all the dangers in the world. 

But you had to constantly assure him that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. 

That you earned your spot on the team and you deserved to be treated the same. He would always same it wasn’t the same. 

But at home he was right at work he was wrong. And sometimes it was hard not to blur the lines.

Everyone on the team knew about you guys. You tried to keep it a secret for a while but working with detectives that was not gonna fly. 

Scott was possessive but you knew he meant well. He would never let another guy even look at you funny. 

He would have something to say about it. If another guy would hit on you or even touch you in the slightest they were on the ground. 

You wouldn’t trade it for the world though. Because Scott was a sweet and kind guy. He was just honestly a puppy dog. 

He would always do the littlest things that would make you cry. 

Like remembering the tiniest details about your guys lives. Whether it be remembering the first time you guys kissed. 

Or the first time he took you on a date. He would make each moment more special than the last.

He told you everyday how much he loved you. He would grab your face and pull you in closer and look you right in the eye with his beautiful orbs. 

“I love you” He would say in a deep full voice. 

“I love you more” You would say back. 

“Not Possible” He would say back 

He would kiss the top of your head. And breathe in your scent like it was the last time he was ever going to see you. 

It always made you feel so much better. Like the way he would grab your hand and squeeze your hand. 

Rubbing his thumb underneath of top of your hand. It made you feel so much more grounded.

 Like when you guys were out in the field and about to go into a dangerous place. 

He would squeeze your shoulder and it was his way of letting you know he was there. He had your back. 

Which of course he always did. No matter what happened he was always there for you. And every time he did.

 No matter what was going on and in the midst of the chaos he was there by your side. 

You knew he was going to be your forever. The person you were going to grow old with and have lots of kids and grandkids with. 

That maybe making Budapest would be a permanent thing. 

The  city was beautiful and it was more like home now than America was. You could tell Scott was feeling the same thing as you. 

He was looking at houses on the side and some of them were beautiful. Like you could picture yourself in them.

 And he wasn’t letting you in on it. Which confused the hell out of you. 

Why would he keep it a secret unless he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Which then made you start sprialing a lot.

So you tried your best to push it out of your head. You know maybe he was just curious to see what was out there. 

Days like today you were wondering what was going through his head. Like it was your day off and he was currently sitting on his phone and he had a nervous look on his face.

You went over to the couch where he was sitting and plopped down next to him. 

“What are you looking at” You asked trying to reach his phone. 

“Nothing” He said in a more serious voice locking his phone so you couldn’t see what he was looking at. 

“Come on what’s her name” You said teasing him 

“Not funny” He said in a serious voice. 

“Get dressed we gotta be some where in 2 hours “ He said 

“Well where are we going” You asked 

“Why does it matter just go get ready” He said 

“I need to know how to dress” You said 

“Dress what ever now stop asking me five million questions” Scott said. 

You got up huffed and Scott laughed. 

You listened to him just as confused as ever. You didn’t even know what you were getting dressed or how to look. So you decided your best to look cute as you could. 

When you were finished you didn’t know how long it took you because Scott was yelling at you it was time to leave. 

You walked out the bathroom and he was already to go. You both grabbed your stuff and headed out. 

The great thing about Budapest was you could walk. And it was nice to see the sights on a beautiful day. No matter how long you lived there it was still gorgeous. 

The day was beautiful and you guys were walking down the street holding hands. 

“So where we going” You asked 

“It is a surprise” Scott said. 

“Come on let me in” You said 

“No way” Scott said laughing. 

The conversation fell kind of flat after that. Suddenly he stopped walking and you guys were in front of the most beautiful house you had ever seen. 

“What the hell are we doing here” You asked 

“Come on” he said pulling you in. 

You both walked in and it was absolutely gorgeous. 

“What are we doing here for real” You asked

“Walk around and see what you think” Scott said 

You gave him a confused look and he just urged you to look around. You walked all around the house and it was big. 

And there was a beautiful backyard with a pool. You always wanted to live in a place with a pool. 

It had a huge backyard with a patio. It was breath taking view. The you walked back inside and walked all around the house.

 There was a big living room with a huge kitchen. To cook in and there were like 4 bedrooms. It was like a mansion. 

It was like a beautiful dream home. Scott was walking around with you. He had a look on his face where it was like he has seen it before. 

“Baby come on tell me what is going on” You asked 

He grabbed you by the face and pulled you in. He looked you in the eyes with those big beautiful orbs. 

“I love you” He said 

“I love you more” You said 

“Not Possible" He said 

“So I kind of did a thing” Scott said rambling a little. 

“What did you do” you asked 

“ I may have brought this house for the two of us to grow into to brings a lot of grand kids to. And sunday dinners and birthday parties” Scott said 

“Scott I” You started 

“No let me finish. I love you more than you know more than you love me . and I want us to grow old together and to move here permanently and start our lives together. Will you Marry me Y/N” Scott said 

He pulled out a ring and got on knee 

“You know that’s not true” You said 

Scott had a worried look on his face.

“There is no way in hell you love me more. I love you more and yes yes I will marry you. And have lots of babies with you and live in this beautiful house I mean this is ours right” You asked

“Hell yeah baby it’s all ours” Scott said 

He got up on one knee and put the ring on your finger. He pulled you into that kiss the one that took your breath away. 

When he broke away the kiss he put his forehead on yours and Whispered to you 

“Not possible”

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

I've only watched the first 5 episodes and I'm obsessed! I am convinced that there is no part Jesse Lee Soffer can play that I won't love. I went to binge on some content for him and couldn't find anything (Big sad). So, I had to make sure he had at least one story. I'm still learning his character so this is probably not perfect.

Wes Mitchell Key 

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking. The relationship wasn’t new but had been long distance since the beginning. Now you were standing in front of his apartment door, one travel-on bag thrown over your shoulder. You had jet lag from the flight all you wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on.  

But now standing here anxiety twisted in your stomach clawing its way up your throat. You reached in your pocket pulling out a key. It felt heavy as lead in your palm and caught the light in the shine of the new metal. You had never used it before and half wondered if it would even really work in the lock. 

You and Wes had been officially together for eight months after steadily talking for three. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wes had trust issues. He didn’t talk about his childhood much, but the random snit bits that he had shared you knew it had been on the rougher side. He was slow to trust and despite his apparent mastery at reading suspects needed blunt direct talks to know where he stood in his personal relationships. 

You two hadn’t seen each other in person more than a handful of times. It had forced a strong foundation built on communication and genuinely enjoying the other company as opposed to falling into bed together because it was easy and lonely. Wes had openly admitted that he tended to do that in a lot of his previous relationships because he “wasn’t good alone”.  

It had been a major red flag and forcing you to keep the pace slow. He was charming, funny, and incredibly good looking and you didn’t want to get your heartbroken.

It didn’t stop you from falling in love with him.

Neither of you had uttered those words yet. Wes didn’t seem like the type to make that proclamation without meaning it and you didn’t want to back him into a corner. 

The feeling of him keeping parts of his life separate from you had caused more than one fight. It always happened in the same pattern. You would bring it up, he would acknowledge that he did it and promise to try harder to be more open. For a while, he would and it would get better but he always seemed to hide behind that last layer of protection. His reflex to protect himself at any cost. You loved him and tried to be patient with what he was working through but the pattern was incredibly frustrating.  

The last one had stuck pretty well. When he came for a week's visit, he had given you his key. He hadn’t said it but you knew it was his way of showing how much he trusted you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been an empty attempt to appease you. After all who would go across the country to actually use the key?  

You had only been to his apartment in Budapest once and he came to see you three times. When you met him, you didn’t even have a passport. While seeing each other hadn’t been frequent, the sex was always absolutely mind-blowing. 

Now you felt like quite the hypocrite as you had been hiding your own struggles from him. Things had gotten so bad, so overwhelming at home that you had packed a bag and paid for a flight on a whim. You couldn’t even remember if you packed underwear. Your brain had been like watching static on a TV and it was only halfway through the flight that you remembered that Wes wasn’t even home. He was currently in the Netherlands.  

You felt a gaze fall heavy on you. You look over your shoulder to see a man watching you stand in front of the door holding a key and making no attempt to open it for way longer than necessary. You scrabbled to put the key in the lock and let out a grateful yet slightly surprised breath of relief as the key twisted in the lock butter smooth. 

A glance back showed the man's suspicions seemed settled as he headed down the hall. Then you remembered the alarm and rushed in to type in the password letting your bag carelessly fall to the ground with a heavy thunk. You watch in anticipation after typing the code in. Wes would be the type to constantly change his code but the light turned blissfully green.  

You turned around to see the almost obsessively neat living room. It had a modern feel but it felt only half lived in like Wes hadn’t completely moved in even though he had been living there for over a year now. It looked exactly the same as when you had been there last. The only difference is the lack of pillows and blankets thrown on and over the couches. It was clear that he had done that for your comfort when you had been staying there.  

You stared blankly into the space. Should you call Wes to let him know you have invaded his home? A yawn forced itself from you and your exhaustion came over you in another harsh demanding wave. It had been over a 12-hour flight and you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Thoughts of calling Wes were easily forgotten with the promise of sleep.  

You walk into his room and are washed in the scent of his cologne and aftershave still barely clinging to the enclosed space. It brought a soft comfort to you. A tease of his embrace. You paused thinking about how awful you must smell and all the germs you had no doubt gotten from the shared space of the airport and then the plane. Your fickle mind had you turning on your heel to the shower turning the water hot.  

As you rinsed off you noticed the only product that Wes had was a 3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You didn’t even have it in you to care as you scrubbed yourself down with it only unconsciously noticing how awful it made your hair feel. You dried off sparing only the bare minimum amount of time towel-drying your mess of tresses before climbing into his bed. You sank into it with a sigh cocooning yourself in his blankets and before you could think twice you were out like a light. 

Wes entered his apartment quietly. Resetting his alarm before heading to the bedroom. He set his bag down gently as he headed to the bed. He sitting beside you brushing the still damp and tangled tresses off your face. You barely moved still deep in sleep. His eyes analyze you worriedly before leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Wes had been gathering his things when his phone had chimed alerting him that someone was at his door. He glanced briefly at his phone thinking it might be a person walking too close to his door or a package arriving he had forgotten he ordered. He had done a double-take when he realized it was you. You hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by.  

He thought maybe it was a surprise visit. It had been a while since you had seen each other in person. The long flight explained why he couldn’t reach you the last few times he had called. He quickly dismissed that notion. You knew he was still in the Netherlands doing a job and he had given you no idea of when he would be back because he hadn’t known himself. If that wasn’t enough there was your slumped posture, hair thrown haphazardly up in a messy bun with thick chunks of hair escaping, only one carry-on bag thrown over your shoulder. He could feel your exhaustion through the screen, not the excitement you usually had when finally getting to see him again. 

He had watched with growing concern as you just stood at his front door with the key in your hand. You stood that way for so long that he thought his video might have frozen. It stung when he realized it was indecision. He had silently willed you to open the door but still you stood unmoving.  

His stomach clenched with guilt. It was his fault that you were hesitating. You had told him you felt like he had a life he didn’t want you to know. That he always had his walls up. He knew the truth and accepted the burden of trying to fix it. He thought he had been doing a good job and that it wasn’t a big deal.  

Watching you fight with yourself if you were truly welcome in his home or if you would be invading it spoke louder than your words ever could. They cut deeper too. Far past the walls that he had spent his life building. He was just about to call you and tell you to go inside when your head whipped backward clearly startled by something. Then you turned back with purpose and put the key in the lock. It didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for. You hadn’t chosen to go in, you had been pushed too. How long would you have stood there without that nudge? 

The flight home was short but it felt long. His mind was in fix-it mode and whirling with what was the right thing to do when he got home. He wanted to talk to you about your relationship. There was nothing more he wanted than you being around. How deeply he cared for you. He wanted to know what that hesitation meant to you about your relationship because he knew what it meant to him. 

Even though Wes desperately wanted that to be the first thing he did. He knew it wasn’t the right one. He needed to find the underlying cause of what would cause you to spontaneously fly across the country. What had happened? And how did it build up that fast? Hadn’t he just talked to you a few days ago? You had been a little quiet but it had been late your time so he hadn’t thought much of it. Had he missed something so major? How long had whatever it was really been going on? 

Wes tried to suppress his worry not wanting to alert the team that you were there until he knew what was going on. He knew an attempt to run when he saw it, he had done it enough himself. When the group had asked if he wanted to get some drink before they had all returned home, he had feigned tiredness. He had beelined for his home. 

Wes smoothed the blankets over you gently, considering his options. He sighed deeply standing up. You looked vulnerable and small twisted in the blankets and curled up into a ball. You were in a deep sleep. You had barely moved since he had walked in. It wasn’t worth waking you up.   

[bullet-prooflove]

"You can turn me on with just a touch, baby" from the The Bad Decisions Prompt List for Wes Mitchell please 🥺 ❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989

All it takes is a touch, the soft caress of Wes’s hand against yours as he leans in the doorway of your apartment in Budapest and you’re back on that beach in LA, his fingertips skating over the waistband of your bikini, lightly pulling at the ties. You remember his mouth ghosting over your skin, the stubble that lines his jaw leaving marks on your inner thighs that were still there a week later when he got back together with Ella.

“You’re not staying at my place.” You warn him, your arm across the space, barring him from entry. There’s a duffle bag by his feet, no doubt packed full of his essentials. “We were one and done back in LA.”

“It wasn’t really one though was it?” He reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was more like three…”

“I think you are greatly overestimating your abilities.” You inform him despite the fact you both know it was more like five.

The beach, to his Jeep, to your bed.

You’d woken up the next morning, him gone, your surf board cleaned down and resting neatly against the wall in your hallway. There had been no follow up after that except from a few late night texts from Ella telling you to stay away from her man.

“One night on the couch, I cook.” He barters, using his boot to prod the groceries he’s already bought out of sight. “I really don’t have nowhere else to go.”

There are hotels, hostels, even an Air BnB that may charge him a decent rate but he came to you, you know why too. Wes, he craves a taste of home. Someone who knows him in a city where he’s stranger, someone who can steady him amongst the upheaval and displacement he feels over Brooks’s death.

“One night.” You concede, stepping away from the door and gesturing for him to some inside. “And you stay on the couch.”

But it’s not just one night and Wes, he certainly does not end up sleeping on that couch.

Love Wes? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[sabrinajenre96]

Wes Mitchell x reader

Since there's nothing about Wes Mitchell I decide to write something. I have a lot of ideas I got a little help writing but it's the first time I am doing this. I hope people will like this. Comment share or whatever.

Do not copy my work, I like to share my ideas and now I have the opportunity to do something about it. This is a hobby for me.

Warning ⚠️: none.

The hum of the Fly Team HQ was a familiar comfort to [Reader's Name], a seasoned FBI agent. But today, a nervous energy crackled in the air. Scott’s absence still left a raw edge, a void filled by the arrival of their new boss, Special Agent Wes Mitchell. [Reader's Name] hadn’t seen Wes in years, not since their teenage whirlwind romance and subsequent heart-wrenching breakup. A secret she’d guarded fiercely, the existence of their twins, Harper and Greyson, was about to collide with her present.

When Wes walked into the briefing room, [Reader's Name] froze. He was older, more mature, but those familiar blue/green eyes, the ones her children inherited, sent a jolt through her. Vo, ever observant, noticed her reaction, but like the rest of the team, chalked it up to adjusting to a new leader.

Their first case was a brutal reminder of the dangers they faced. A group of criminals, the same ones who’d killed Wes’s partner in LA, were targeting him again, this time through his connection to…Harper and Greyson. Panic clawed at [Reader's Name]. Her secret was about to explode.

As Smitty and Vo scrambled to find the link between Wes and the twins, Harper and Greyson were brought to HQ, escorted by [Reader's Name]’s mother, a retired FBI agent and old friend of Jesse LaCroix. While her mother comforted the twins, she and [Reader's Name] had a tense conversation.

"You should have told him," her mother said, her voice laced with concern.

"And what? Ruin his life like mine was?" [Reader's Name] retorted, her voice rising.

Vo, entering the room unexpectedly, heard the last sentence. She stopped, her brow furrowed. "Told him what?"

[Reader's Name]’s heart pounded. She had to tell her. She had to tell everyone. She took a deep breath. "Wes is their father."

The room fell silent. Vo’s expression was a mixture of shock and understanding. She knew about their past, but not this.

Later, in the conference room, with the entire team present, [Reader's Name] laid bare the truth. Her teenage relationship with Wes, the unplanned pregnancy, the difficult decision she made, the years of raising Harper and Greyson alone. Only Scott and her mother knew. The twins knew who their father was. Wes’s initial reaction was anger, a sense of betrayal, of lost time, lost milestones.

Just then, [Reader's Name]'s mother walked in with Harper and Greyson. She looked at Wes, her gaze steady. "It wasn't [Reader's Name]'s fault. You were the one who pushed her away," she said, her voice firm. "Your girlfriend at the time…she made it clear: it was her or the baby. [Reader's Name] made a choice, a painful one. But those children, they were her world. Every time she looked at their eyes, your eyes, she was reminded of the love she never stopped feeling."

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. The team, initially stunned, now saw the resemblance. Harper’s bright blue/green eyes, Greyson’s strong jawline. It was undeniable.

Wes, reeling, confronted his ex-girlfriend, the ugly truth of her manipulation laid bare. The confrontation was explosive, ending their relationship for good.

With the personal drama swirling around them, the team focused on the case. [Reader's Name], facing the leader of the criminal group, stared him down, her resolve hardened. She arrested him, bringing the case to a close.

That night, the dust settled. [Reader's Name] and Wes sat on her porch, the twins asleep inside.

"I…I messed up," Wes said, his voice rough. "I should have known."

"We both did," [Reader's Name] replied softly. "But we can’t change the past. We can only build a future."

Suddenly, Harper and Greyson burst out of the house, running towards them. "Mom! Dad!" they cried, launching themselves into their parents’ arms.

Wes looked at [Reader's Name], a mixture of love and regret in his eyes. He pulled her close, the twins nestled between them. Finally, they were a family. The family [Reader's Name] had always dreamed of. The love she had held onto all these years had finally found its way home.

@stefanmikaleson1864 I didn't find fanfiction about wes I decided to create one 😂 let me know what you think.

[spasmsofthought]

still waters (scott forrester x f!reader)

Hi!! FBI International is one of my favorite shows and Scott Forrester has intrigued me from the start. I know this is a small fandom, but it's a show that brings me great joy. Something about episode 3x6 just really hit me and I ending up writing this. Please like, comment, & reblog! Enjoy!! xoxo

+++

"If this doesn't get better fast," You mutter just over your breath. "I'm going to end up punching someone."

There's not enough volume to your statement for Detective Novak to overhear, but it slips out just loud enough that Scott perks up and turns his gaze towards you as he walks by you on his way down the hallway. You barely succeed in covering the dark look you were about to throw the Czech officer.

He raises his eyebrows, "Do I need to send you out on a walk too?" His hand points in the direction Vo just went out of the local precinct, following his orders to cool off.

You can't help it. It's not as if you can shut your feelings off and just be analytical about this. Cameron may be running point on this case because of her own experience in helping assault survivors and her newly, and rightly earned, seniority on the Fly Team, but you have just as much stake in this developing case as her. There's a reason Scott made sure you were here with him and Vo and not with Raines or Garretson.

Detective Novak chooses to make her exit silently as she passes around you and Scott.

You breathe out a heavy exhale and hold his gaze for a moment, "No."

You lean back for support as cross your arms and bend one of your legs to put your foot against the wall and stare at the green paint across from you. Disassociating is better than letting tears cloud your vision. Anything is better than getting sucked into that black hole again.

Scott steps into your space instead of retreating, forcing you to place your foot on the ground and straighten your posture. He takes another step forward until there is very little space between the two of you.

"I know that you lead with your heart," His voice is just barely over a whisper and brushing against your cheeks. His focus on you is intense and all-consuming. "But right now, I need your head in this too."

"There's a reason I never completed my J.D.," You begin. His gaze doesn't waver. Scott is dialed in on you. You remember what your mother used to say to you as a girl, Still waters run deep, darling. You haven't even begun to reach the bottom of him yet. "I went with law enforcement because I know how easy it is for a girl like Ali to get lost in the red tape. I'm less frustrated with the fact that rape and assault laws are criminally behind here and more frustrated with the fact that I come from a country that doesn't hold the moral high ground. Change a few details and circumstances, and we're in the States on the same 'ole merry-go-round with the same kind of ending."

You take a breath. There's a moment of silence as Scott looks at you, somehow knowing that you aren't finished.

"And as much as you empathize, as much as you apply your knowledge from working cases like these for years, you will never 100% understand what it will mean for Ali when you go in there and tell her that her only two options are to either be arraigned for assault and kicked out of a country before she receives the justice she is owed or take down a social media post that is her only viable option for recourse right now."

You squeeze your eyes shut and bring your palms against your face for a moment. You feel Scott lean in. You push the tears back, but they linger just slightly.

When you open your eyes, his face is just centimeters away, "I get that this is our only move right now, but we're supposed to be pushing for better options now. We're supposed to be breaking ground, not just calling out the breaks in the pavement and watching someone else trip over them."

One of Scott's hands lightly brushes over your hair, trailing around your ear and then landing on your shoulder for a second. "I know."

He reaches down to squeeze your hand, "I know."

You breathe the same air for a solitary moment before you both know you need to move onto your responsibilities.

"I'll call Andre and Megan and update them." You nod at him, moving to step away, but he holds you against him for one heartbeat, two. Your breath catches.

"We'll talk next steps after I discuss with Ali."

"Okay."

"Okay," Scott says. His thumb brushes against the fabric of your trousers resting on your waist before he steps back and makes his way down the hallway to Ali's cell.

You give yourself a moment to breathe.

[pathologicalreid]

losing you | s.r.

in which you being in danger in the field elicits a response from Spencer that you're not used to - anger

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, jareau!reader, fear of abandonment, fighting word count: 1.67k a/n: i really didn't like this one at first but turns out now i really enjoy it lol. it's hard for me to dislike anything jareau!reader. anyways, setting this up to post while i chemically straighten my hair, i hope you enjoy!

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and casually leaning against the doorframe. A bored expression planted on his face as he watched you dump your dirty laundry out of your go-bag and begin to shove clean clothes inside.

You huffed, slamming a dresser drawer shut as you shoved socks into your otherwise empty duffle, “I’m going to stay with JJ tonight.” Avoiding his gaze, you proceeded to pack away your underwear—four pairs for an overnight trip.

Slowly, he meandered over to the bed, sitting on the ledge and watching you, “I think we should talk about this.” He told you, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“I agree,” you responded, checking your toiletry kit to ensure you had everything you needed to get through the next twenty-four hours—or more if the team got called off on a new case while you were with your sister.

Spencer frowned at your response, “You agree, but you’re still packing to leave.” He turned his head to follow you as you floated around the room, tossing miscellaneous clothes in your bag.

Nodding, you zipped your go-bag shut, buttoning an additional closure before turning back to face Spencer. “You’re angry with me, and I think we could have a more productive conversation with each other tomorrow after you sleep on it.”

“And I think we need to get our thoughts out now before it turns into a bigger issue. Internalizing emotions like you’re suggesting isn’t healthy,” Spencer challenged, following you as you walked to the front door, setting your bag on the console before searching around for the right pair of shoes. “And now you’re just walking out,” he griped, gesturing over to the shoe rack.

Your head snapped up at that remark, “Hey, I am not just ‘walking out.’” Your gaze narrowed at him as you nearly stumbled over your own feet.

The knot between his brows loosened at your expression, and for a moment, you weren’t in the midst of a disagreement. For a moment, the two of you were two kids who had been walked out on. “No,” Spencer said, his voice softer than it had just been, “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you paused your efforts to leave the apartment and took a deep breath. “I made a split-second decision, and it ended up saving a little girl’s life. I don’t regret it, but I do regret the way it scared you.”

Spencer kept a firm distance from you, even if you reached out an arm, you wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You should have listened to Hotch; there’s no reason that you should’ve done… that.”

“You weren’t there, Spencer! If you had seen the way he was holding that gun to her temple… if you had heard the way she was crying out for her mom, then maybe you’d understand why I took her place,” you told him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “There had to have been another option, Y/N.”

Maybe there was, but part of your FBI training had been on making snap decisions, and this was just another example. “So, you think I should’ve let him keep that gun to the little girl’s head?”

“No,” Spencer answered, dragging out his vowel. “I just would have rather not seen a gun to my girlfriend’s head instead.”

You halted, eyes widening in alarm as you shifted to a newfound frustration, “Right,” you sniped, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His eyes flashed with recognition, and you knew that he was well aware of what you were referring to. Last month when he had his face off with Cat Adams, leading to her pointing a gun at his head while he proceeded to egg her on. You’d given him a mouthful the next day, and you weren’t afraid to do it again, “That was a completely different set of circumstances.”

Cocking your head to the side, your nostrils flared, “Was it?” You ask sardonically, “A serial killer pointing a loaded gun to your head sounds pretty fucking similar to me!”

“At least I stayed to talk to you about it instead of running away,” he snapped, both of you escalating in the ways you knew how. You raised your voice while he resorted to the cutting edge in his voice.

You held your hands out to your sides helplessly, “Do I need to put in for a transfer or something? Is this that big of an issue to you?” You could barely stomach the idea of leaving the BAU, but at this point, losing Spencer would be worse than joining a new department.

“No,” he answered instantly, “The problem here is that you don’t think before you act.”

You held up your hand, “I think before everything I do, and I’m sorry that my synapses don’t fire a million times a minute, and I can’t calculate the probability of every outcome beforehand, but I did the best I fucking could with the time I was given.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows curiously, “The best you could? A Glock to your temple was the best you could do?”

“Fuck you! Why don’t you have any trust in my abilities in the field? Why do you all of a sudden do you think I can’t do my job?” You demanded, chest rising and falling with anger as you glared across the room at him.

Spencer flinched at the accusation, the idea that he was just as bad as all of the people who assumed you only got your job because of your sister—the kind of people Spencer used to defend you from. “I didn’t… you’re perfectly capable—”

“But not good enough for the BAU? Not good enough to be a profiler, surely,” You interrupted him. “You know what I think, Spencer? I think you’re scared. I think seeing a gun to my head frightened you, and you’re taking it out on me because I’m the only vessel that you can snipe at and know they won’t leave you entirely.”

His posture changed then, leaning against the back of the couch as he absorbed your words, “You’re an incredible profiler, honey. The team is lucky to have you, you know that.”

Your shoulders slumped forward in response, “Then why the hostility? Why did you snap at me in front of everyone as soon as you found out the gun wasn’t loaded?” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied his facial expressions for an answer. When you offered to take the little girl’s place, you were under the impression that the gun was loaded, and when the rest of the team caught up with you, they were under the same guise.

It wasn’t revealed that the chamber was empty until JJ made the shot that took out the UnSub, and Spencer had been all over you with worry one moment and wanted nothing to do with you the next.

“Did you feel like your worry wasn’t warranted?” You asked when he remained silent, “Like it was a waste of emotion when I wasn’t in any real danger?”

Spencer shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest self-consciously as you forced him to look at his behavior objectively, “You were always in danger, Y/N. The way he was watching you, the grip that he had on you…”

The UnSub gripped your hip so fiercely that he had almost taken you down with him when he was shot, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises marring your skin when you changed out of your work clothes. “I saved that little girl, Spence. That’s the deal, right? ‘I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.’” You quoted your oath to him, the same one he had taken, “At that moment, it was my duty to save that little girl. She went home to her parents today because of me.”

“You’re right,” he said, any evidence of malice washed from his tone. “You were incredible. You were fearless, and it scared the shit out of me,” he told you. “I—” he faltered, “I’m sorry,” he said, approaching you the way you would a wounded animal.

You shook your head when he held out his hands for you, leaving your arms stiffly at your sides and shaking your head, “No, Spence.”

Despite your protests, he pulled you into an embrace anyway; your body was resistant to him, the way his warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against his body. “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “Be mad at me, make me sleep on the couch, but please don’t leave,” he murmured.

Your cheek was pressed against his chest, the wool lapel of his suit jacket scratching against your skin as tears flooded your field of vision. As much as you wanted to resist, this was Spencer. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you,” he told you.

Fear of loss. Spencer had been terrified to see a gun to your head, but the thought of having to watch you leave the apartment you shared in order to get away from him was petrifying. “I have to call my sister,” you told him, your voice muffled by his jacket.

One hand was on your waist, the other on the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, “Why?”

“To let her know I’m not coming,” you muttered. “She’ll worry, and it seems I’ve caused enough of that today,” you told him, appreciating the heat that emanated from Spencer as he looped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if that’s all he’d ever needed.

[gghostwriter]

Death of a Love Affair

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t.

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: this felt oddly personal to me this is my first time writing in the Y/N perspective and in a one shot format so please be kind. I kinda left a possibly for p2, not sure about that yet, but let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Main masterlist || Part 2A (happy end) || Part 2B (sad end)

The first time it happened, you completely understood. 

You had an inkling as to what you were getting into when you started dating a 187 genius who graduated at a young age and who was scouted straight from college by the FBI. It wasn’t hard to comprehend these external circumstances mixed with his internal need to prove himself worthy of belonging with the big boys would result in missed personal events. It was a given, you expected it.

You just didn’t count on him missing your graduation. After all, he gave his word that he’ll be there to see you walk the stage and receive your diploma. He promised you and yet, as you scanned the crowd of loved ones hugging the attendees, there was no sign of his tie wearing, button up lithe form weaving through the crowd, no sign of his slicked hair, meticulously tucked behind his ears and no sign his doe eyed hazel eyes shining with pride as you joined the ranks of adulthood and unemployment.

You reach for your phone, now finally free from the nerves and adrenaline of going up the stage, with a single unread message from the one you wished to be here with you.

I’m sorry, angel. There’s a case and Gideon needs me. 

You sighed with a mild smile sprouting on your glossed lips as you sent back a reply.

No worries! We can celebrate when you get back. Be safe, I love you.

“Oh honey, I’m so proud of you!” Your mom exclaimed, reaching for a hug. “You graduated and with so many achievements—I mean look at all these cords hanging around your neck!”

You laughed as you stepped out from her warm embrace and watched joyful tears gather under her eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Hopefully all these cords help me get a job soon, huh, or else I’ll be moving back home with you.”

“Oh honey, stop joking! As if I wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms,” she quipped back. 

A hand holding a bouquet of flowers shot up to your face. It was a bundle of your favorite, carnations, in ranges of different colors. 

“Congratulations, lil sis,” your older brother, Trevor, breathed out. “Do I get a hug too or is that just for Mom?” 

You giggled as you stepped into his arms, happy to be sharing this moment with your ever loving protector of a brother, no matter how busy he might be as a head chef for his own highly rated restaurant.

“Hey big brother, thanks for being here,” you mumbled in his tight grasp. “Did you pass along my invite to Dad?” 

You felt him subtly shake his head causing your smile to slightly falter. You knew better than to expect the man who gifted you half of his genes to show up—a workaholic, absentee of a father whose love language was to deposit checks to your bank account from his fattened pockets as a lawyer for the rich. It was the cause of your parents’ separation when you were five years old. The matriarch tired from taking up the mantle as both the paternal and maternal figure for both you and your brother. Your mother exhausted from repeatedly believing broken promises uttered to herself and to her babies.

Having seen first hand how each lie wrapped as an oath chipped a piece of the loving and bright woman who gave birth to you and your brother, you vowed to never let that happen to you. It was a cautionary tale engrained in your mind. A fable—a curse really and in hindsight, you should have seen the markings of history repeating itself.

“Now, where is your nerdy pipe cleaner of a boyfriend?” He asked as he scanned around the vicinity for a sight of Spencer.

You shrugged, genuinely alright with your FBI agent of a boyfriend missing this milestone in your life. “Duty called. But that’s okay, we’ll celebrate when he gets back.” 

A pair of eyes, similar to yours, inquisitively studied you as if making sure there was no hidden hurt behind those words uttered. “If you say so,” he stated, turning to your mother who was smiling at the both of you—her greatest treasures. “Mom, let’s get out of here. I had John prep the kitchen for a feast.” 

You and your mom chattered excitedly at the passenger back seat as Trevor backed the four-door navy sedan out of the parking and drove off to his restaurant for the promised lunch graduation.

———

It was well into the night as you were settling in bed when the tell-tale signs of the main door being unlocked echoed through the dark green walls of his apartment. 

“Spence?” You called out, letting him know that you were there instead of in your own apartment, 30 minutes away. 

More shuffling was heard before the object of your love and affection rounded the bedroom door with a set of his own flowers on hand. He breathed out your name in reverence as he went for a kiss, pleased that he had still caught you awake.

“Congratulations, my love,” he smiled as he pulled away from your soft lips. “These are for you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” 

You smiled back, gladly accepting his apologies and flowers. “It’s all good, Spence. I know how demanding your job is. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I told Gideon and Hotch that’ll I’ll be unavailable this weekend. It’s just you and me,” he said as he went in for another kiss, unable to resist any longer. Not long after, his outside clothes and your sleepwear were strewn all around the bedroom floor as both your bodies merged into one and reached a mutual crescendo with your gasps and his groans as the choir. 

***

The second time, you moderately understood.

You noted that the BAU was back in full swing with Gideon being brought back to the saddle after what happened in Boston. As his birthday treat, you both agreed to fly in for the weekend to Vegas to visit his mother at the facility. He never would have gone alone should it not have been for your enthusiasm to come with. You loved talking to Diana about Spencer’s childhood during her good days and you also loved being in her presence still even when she was lost in her teaching past—acting out as a student as you got to hear her lectures about literature. 

The bustling at the airport had you tip toeing up to catch a sight of Spencer, your flight departing in about an hour. It was a late Friday afternoon, travelers were piling in for a weekend trip, and he promised to head straight from the Bureau to the airport to meet you by the entrance. Your head swiveled from left to right, biting your lip as the minutes ticked by with no sign of your boyfriend running towards you.

The phone in your jean pocket rang and your heart slightly dropped at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey pretty boy,” you greeted, naively wishing that this phone call wasn’t a bearer of bad news. “Are you almost at the airport?” 

There were muffled voices heard in the background. “Uhm—actually—”

You sighed, understanding what he wanted to say. “There’s a case,” you stated as a matter of fact. “It’s alright, Spence. I’ll tell your mom something popped up. No worries.” 

“You—you don’t have to go alone. We can always reschedule,” he suggested, the timber of his voice going up an octave as if he was in a panic at the idea of disappointing you.

“You and I both know Diana’s excited about this trip,” you chuckled as you recalled how her doctor had described his mother’s face lighting up every time she was reminded of the visit. “I’ll go and spend some time with her. Maybe even get her to tell me more embarrassing childhood stories about her perfect boy.”

He lightly laughed at your joke to ease the tension and remorse he was feeling. “I could have told you all of it if you just asked.”

“Well, does it include pictures of you too?” You teased as you were checking in at the counter.

There was a stern voice calling for his name in the background, it was Hotch, you silently guessed. 

“Listen, I have to go. The team is about to give the profile,” he rushed out to inform you. “I��ll see you when we both get back. I love you.” 

The call ended without so much of a chance for you to say it back.

As the plane got ready to take off, your mood continued to further dampen. He promised to go—to you and to his own mother via the phone. An ivy seed of doubt was planted in your mind. Did he try to excuse himself from the case to his boss as some sort of birthday gift? It really didn’t work that way, you knew, with how of a high demand his job is but still, you wondered if his team was informed about the plans for this weekend or were they purposely kept out of the loop. That notion wouldn’t surprise you at the slightest, thinking back. The profilers weren’t even aware of his mother’s state and condition. Hell, they didn’t even know that you existed, a girlfriend of two years, until well into his first year at the BAU. 

Deep down you grasped why he keeps Diana a secret. You were aware of the shame and embarrassment he felt for himself, having had to have her institutionalized by the time he reached the age of eighteen. You got that, didn’t mean you understood it but nonetheless, you respected his decision and was even proud of him for reaching out for professional help no matter how much he viewed that action of his cowardly. But what you weren’t really privy to was really why your relationship was kept in the dark. It could have saved him from Morgan’s incessant ribbing of his inability to pick up women.

During one night where your insecurities got the best of you, you asked in a small voice if he was ashamed of the relationship. He vehemently denied it, repeatedly saying that he just wanted to have a secret solace—a happy home to return to that was untouched by the worst human terrors that he encounters on the daily. That was what you were, he explained, a sunlit luscious reprieve filled with flowers and laughter where he could rest his weary bones from the ravaging, dark waves. His own piece of heaven here on earth. He then kissed your fears away that night, hugged you tight into his chest—the vibrations from his humming lulling you to slumber.

———

“I always knew it would take a special girl to understand my special boy,” Diana mused out loud as you plated a slice of cake for her. 

You blushed, sitting down beside her with your own. “He’s perfect. I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

She affectionately combed through your hair, similar to how her son would. “Thank you. For visiting and being understanding of his erratic schedule.”

“It’s no problem at all, Diana. I love him, I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” You stated as the ivy seed of doubt sprouted in your mind—did you really? Did you really understand what you were getting into?

***

The third time, you still tried to understand.

There you were surrounded by the purest celebration of love and matrimony, sans your long-haired, sweater vest wearing plus one. Your brother was getting married to the love of his life, vowing himself to be with her for better, for worse and your other half was in another state catching criminals. Fiddling with the diamond engagement ring adorning your finger, you recalled how you ended up alone, dateless, in this joyous occasion. 

You RSVP’ed with a date when the invitation arrived four months ago. Your brother even calling in to make sure that he, your well-celebrated FBI fiancée, will be able to attend a month before the wedding. You internally scoffed at his repeated checking but in retrospect, maybe he saw the end well before you did. You promised to him, as Spencer did to you, that he’ll be available to watch the union and to save all the slow dances with him. But the day before the wedding, the phone rang for a case in Dallas and you knew what it meant. Without so much of a fight, you kissed him goodbye by the door of his now shared apartment and let the dreary silence enveloped you as you think of how to inform your brother of the new change without hearing the pity and patronization in his voice. 

Nursing a glass of red wine, you watched your brother dance with his newly wedded wife and in your peripheral, you spotted your mother approaching you at the table. 

“Now why are you being such a sourpuss during this festive event?” She chimed out as she pulled a chair beside you. “You should be out there, dancing and getting to know our new extended family.” 

You shrugged, unsure on what to say. She was right, of course. All the guests were enjoying themselves and basking in the warm, infectious glow of the happy couple but you didn’t have the courage in you to mask the despondent emotions inside of you.

Your mother sighed and took your left hand in hers. “You know, when your dad and I were going through the proceedings of the divorce, I had moments when I wanted to back out from it. I loved your father, still holds a piece of my heart till this day, and I thought the small moments of happiness when he was around would be enough to tied me through the days when he wasn’t. I thought those times and our love for you kids were sufficient to keep our love from wilting. If I poured out affection and devotion to the home we once built, it wouldn’t crumble surely. But you know what I forgot—”

You turned to face her somber eyes, looking into yours as if searching for something that seemed to no longer be there. 

“—I forgot to take care of myself. I gave a pieces of me away so willing and so many times that when I reached the end of the marriage, I no longer knew who I was. Where the piece of me started and where it ended. You’re withering, my flower. The vibrant life that I once longed to protect in your eyes is slowly dying. I don’t want you to reach the finish line and not know how you got up there. How you ended up giving all yourself away with not a flower bud left to blossom just for you.” 

You felt your hackles rise to defend the relationship. In hindsight, this was you denying the truth that was staring you right in the face. “It’s not like that with Spencer, Mom. It’s just—the job is hectic and it’s been his forever dream. He had finally started to gain his footing when Gideon and Elle left and then the kidnapping happened and that pushed his progress back a bit. But he’s getting there now. We’re stabilizing and we had a discussion—there’s less broken promises. It’s just that this recent case in Dallas was urgent and they needed the team to solve crime. I don’t want to take him away from the country and the people who needs his help and from his dream of solving crimes. I love him, Mom, in all of his entirety and he deserves all the respect and understanding from me as his partner.” 

She squeezed the hand in hers—the left hand adorning the ring, the material manifestation of his vow to you that you had happily accepted. “I‘ve grown fond of Spencer. I see him as another son of mine but darling, sometimes the love you feel for each other is not enough. A relationship takes continuous work—a task that both individuals must pull in the effort and prioritize. Just think about it,” she stated as she stood up. “Now, no more of this depressing talk and this serious energy from you. Go around, dance with your brother, and enjoy.” 

You mustered up a smile as you proceeded to do just what you were told until your feet were sore from all the dancing. But no matter the joyous occasion, it didn’t stop the realization in the form of ivy from taking roots and slowly covering all corners of your mind. 

***

And the final time, you could no longer understand.

The grandfather clock stationed at the corner of the dimly lit apartment struck at two. Your figure was still dressed in your purple fitted dress as you waited for your soon-to-be other half to walk through the door. It was another night of getting your hopes up and broken promises and you were no longer sure how much you could take before the love you held in your heart festers and turns into resentment. 

You promised yourself you’d never be in a situation that you had seen your mother once be in. You became the careful daughter of a careless man who gave little to no effort to cherish the love a woman had freely given to him. You thought with all your cautiousness and logical thinking, the mistakes of the mother would never be repeated. That was naive thinking—you realized now. By actively being aware of the past, you’d forgotten to look ahead and fell deep into the pitfalls of doing the same as your mother did.

Spencer once mentioned that there was a high divorce rate in his line of duty. How he worried and vowed that you both will never join that rate. And that was a promise he’ll be able to keep, you scoffed to yourself, as you spun the ring on the table.

Another shared piece of information floated to the forefront of your mind. How Haley had recently served Hotch, his unit chief divorce papers. You’ve grown close with her over the years, being the only two constant partners to someone working in the BAU. You’ve seen first hand all the missed milestones in Haley’s and Jack’s life as her husband flew around the country with the cavalry, saving the innocent one case at a time. Never taking the time to realize that the once solid foundation of their marriage was crumbling down with every flight he took. Similar to what was happening in the doctor’s own home. 

A set of keys unlatched the mahogany door and a fresh batch of florals were the first that entered through, followed by Spencer looking sheepish as he noted your presence by the sofa. “Angel, I’m so sorry I missed your promotion dinner.” 

Silence greeted him as he stumbled to get to where you were. “Carnations for you.” 

Tears started to form under your eyes. You didn’t want to break but the reality of your decision was setting in. You wanted to falter, to change your mind, to give him another chance but you knew you couldn’t. You’ve given too much of your understanding away and you doubted you have any more to give to this beautiful man who once promised to make you his top priority. 

“I can’t accept them, Spencer.” 

His eyebrows furrowed and his body tensing as if sensing the finality behind your words. “Why not? They’re your favorite.” 

“They are but—” you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. “—I think we should stop.” 

“W-what? No. No, please,” he stammered out as his own set of tears started flooding his eyes, blurring you from his vision. “I’m sorry I missed the dinner. I’ll make it up to you—I promise just—”

The dam of your emotions broke causing you to freely sob out all the sadness and anger that had collected in your heart. “I’m tired, Spencer. You can’t promise anything to me anymore. You’ve broken so many promises that you’ll only end up breaking them again.” 

He took your hands into his, letting the bouquet fall crushed on the hardwood floor, recognizing the ring missing in your finger. “This time, this time it’ll be different. Please, don’t leave me.” 

“The country needs you, the BAU needs you. But I need you too, Spencer. I love you, I really do but I can’t be your third priority anymore. I don’t deserve that—don’t I deserve to come first before the country and the job?” 

He tightened his hold on your hands as if afraid that you were slipping through his fingers, denying the reality that you already had. “I love you so much. I don’t want to live without you by my side. Tell me how to fix this. Do you want me to leave the BAU? I’ll—I’ll do it, just stay with me, please.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to leave the FBI. Your ambition and integrity is one of the facets that I loved about you and you might end up resenting me down the line if you leave now. It’s not yet your time to leave the BAU, you and I both know that,” you pulled your hands away and slid the ring in front of him. “This belongs to you, I’m giving it back.” 

His shoulder caved in on itself, the weight of it all too much for him to carry. “I don’t want this to be our end. I just don’t.” 

“I don’t want this too, but I need to,” you whispered as your hand reached out to push shoulder length hair out of the way. “Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe in the future we’d meet again and continue the pages of our love story but for now, I have to do this Spencer. I can’t keep giving a piece of me every time your top priority needs you, I’ll end up hating you if I stay.” 

You leaned in for one final kiss. A salty, tear filled kiss of death to a future you had once envisioned with the beautiful boy before you. A white picket fence with children laughing at the backyard—the American dream fading into nothing as you start to pull away.

“Goodbye for now, Spencer.”

He stared at all the curves and dips in your face one last time as if etching every detail into his already perfect memory.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

[kiwriteswords]

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you."

AN: Since you guys seem to like the Shy!Reader drabbles!

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: Everyone

TW: shy!reader, alcohol mention

Five times you were shy around Aaron Hotchner because of your underlying feelings for him + one time, Aaron Hotchner was shy around you because of his underlying feelings for you.

one.

The office was unusually quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the soft hum of computers. The rest of the team was out in the field, leaving just you and Aaron Hotchner behind to finish reviewing the case files for the next briefing.

You glanced at the clock. It was just after 6 p.m. Most people would be winding down their day, but for the BAU, the hours always seemed to blend together. Of course, you didn’t mind—working with the best agents in the FBI was an honor, but working directly under Aaron Hotchner, your team leader and a respected figure in the bureau? That was something else entirely.

And today, you were supposed to help him with the case files for the recent kidnapping case. Alone.

“Ready?” His deep voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you nearly jumped. You didn’t have the time to dissect why this man--your boss, made you feel this way. As if every time he looked at you, it felt like he could see things differently--more than anyone else. You felt a level of exposure you were not quite used to. It wasn’t bad, no. Just made you feel sort of funny inside. 

“Uh, yes, yes, sir. Just—just a second.” You scrambled to gather your papers, your hands suddenly clammy as you fumbled with the file in front of you. Great start, you mentally scolded yourself.

You could feel his eyes on you, calm and patient, as you tried to compose yourself. Hotch, with his sharp features and intense gaze, sat down beside you at the long conference table, his presence commanding even though he said nothing. As usual, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, tie still impeccably knotted despite the long day.

He always looked so put together, so composed, and here you were, barely able to keep from dropping the entire file on the floor.

And that was the thing about Aaron Hotchner’s microscope; it was never him purposefully looking at you--through you with judgment. Just through a different lens, you could feel it. 

“Okay,” you breathed out, finally opening the folder and staring at the first page, willing yourself to focus. But of course, all you could focus on was him sitting beside you, his arm brushing ever so slightly against yours as he leaned in to review the documents.

Hotch’s voice broke the silence again. “I noticed some inconsistencies in the witness statements,” he said, pointing at a section in the report. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the proximity making your heartbeat quicken.

“Right, um, inconsistencies. Yes, I—I saw those too,” you stammered, your voice just a little higher than usual. You could feel your cheeks burning. Pull it together.

As you reached to turn the page, your fingers trembled slightly, and the edges of the papers crinkled under your grip. You cursed yourself internally. He’s going to think I don’t know what I’m doing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hotch glance at you. His brow furrowed, not in frustration, but in something softer—concern, maybe? Before you could stop yourself, you began speaking too fast, trying to fill the silence.

“I mean, the statements are definitely off, like you said. I was just thinking, you know, we could um, cross-check them against the surveillance footage from the convenience store and maybe, uh, match the timestamps, because—well, um, obviously, you’ve probably already thought of that, but I just thought…”

You trailed off when you realized Hotch wasn’t looking at the file anymore. He was looking at you. And oh god, that made things so much worse. You felt the tips of your ears burning now, and you quickly looked down at the paper in front of you, pretending to reread the same line over and over just to avoid his gaze.

“You’re doing fine,” Hotch said softly, his voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You looked up, blinking in surprise. His expression was calm, reassuring even, as though he could sense how flustered you were. For a moment, you thought you saw the tiniest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I—thanks,” you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper. You bit your lip, cursing yourself for sounding so meek. This was Aaron Hotchner—your boss, your colleague. And yet, here you were, acting like a nervous schoolgirl with a crush.

Well, because you did have a crush. A big one. A ridiculous, all-consuming crush that you had been battling for months now. And being this close to him, feeling his presence so close—it was like your brain short-circuited every time. His cologne, his energy--everything that surrounded your senses was just like a drug making your brain work in ways it really shouldn’t be when you have a job to do.

Hotch nodded, his attention returning to the file in front of you, but the moment didn’t pass unnoticed. The air between you felt different now--lighter. As if he understood, on some level, that your nerves weren’t because of the case, but because of him. 

You worked in silence after that, the tension slowly ebbing away. But every now and then, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if he was still watching, still noticing.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner noticed you too.

two.

It had already been a morning and a half. The team had gathered for a debrief, with everyone scattered around their desks reviewing the latest case notes. You felt the weight of exhaustion after the last long night, and from the looks of it, so did everyone else. It was natural for these long hours to catch up to you all eventually. 

“Coffee run?” you asked, glancing around at the others. JJ and Spencer immediately nodded, followed by Morgan flashing you a grateful smile.

“I could use about three cups,” Emily quipped, massaging her temples.

You smiled back and quickly made your way to the break room. As you stood by the machine, the familiar hum of it brewing filled the room. You glanced at the lineup of mugs in your arms, including the one you had specifically set aside for Hotch. His was easy to pick out—simple, just like the man himself.

For some reason, even the simple act of grabbing coffee for him made you feel jittery. Maybe it was because of the way he always carried himself—calm, collected, completely in control. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you, like he was always assessing, always paying attention.

Or maybe it was because you had the world’s most inconvenient crush on your boss.

You sighed and shook your head. It's just coffee. Be normal.

When the machine finally finished, you loaded the cups and returned to the bullpen. As you handed the team their drinks, your nerves started to build as you approached Hotch’s office. His door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, you could see him typing away on his computer, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You knocked softly, pushing the door open a little wider. “Coffee?”

Hotch glanced up, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he saw you standing there, juggling the last two mugs. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm but as professional as always.

You stepped forward, holding out his cup. “Uh, here,” you said, your voice coming out a little I quickly. As he reached for it, your fingers accidentally brushed against his.

The contact was fleeting but sent a jolt through your whole body. Your breath hitched, and suddenly, you were hyper-aware of how close he was. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, and you swore he must have heard it. You tried to ignore how your hand trembled slightly, but it was impossible with Hotch standing right there.

For a second, he didn’t move. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then back up to meet your eyes, and you could have sworn there was a flicker of amusement in his expression as if he was beginning to catch on to the hold he had over you. He took the cup from you carefully, his touch deliberate and slow. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, but this time, there was something softer in his tone. His lips curved ever so slightly—a small smile, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. You always were.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Why am I such a mess around him?

“Oh—uh, no problem,” you managed to stammer, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. You took a step back, desperate to escape before you embarrassed yourself further. “Enjoy your coffee, Hotch.”

You turned to leave, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly—a rare sound, one that sent another rush of heat through you. You could only hope he didn’t notice how flustered you were. But then again, judging by that tiny smile, he already had.

three.

A grueling case with long hours and high tension called for alcohol and camaraderie. When Rossi suggested they all unwind at a nearby bar after wrapping things up, no one argued. The idea of a drink and a few hours of normalcy was too tempting to pass up--and much needed.

You found yourself sitting at a long table with the rest of the team, squeezed between JJ and Hotch. Normally, that would have sent your nerves into overdrive, but after the first glass of wine—and then the second—you felt your anxiety loosen just a bit. Just enough to breathe without overthinking every little move you made next to him.

The conversation flowed easily around you, with Morgan and Garcia trading playful banter while Spencer tried to argue some statistic about criminal behavior. You laughed along, but every time Hotch spoke, your focus snapped to him. You couldn’t help it. It was like your mind was on high alert every time he addressed the group, or worse—you directly.

“Good work on the case,” he said at one point, turning to you with that intense gaze of his. “You managed the witness interviews really well. I think it made a difference.”

Your heart lurched. He was complimenting you—praising your work in front of the whole team. The sudden attention made your pulse quicken, and you could feel your face heating up despite the buzz from the drinks.

Before you could stop yourself, the words just spilled out.

With a slightly bolder tone than you usually used around him, you turned to face him fully, giving him a playful smile. “Well, maybe I just wanted to impress you, Hotch.”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how bold they sounded. You raised your glass slightly, locking eyes with him for a moment longer than necessary. You’d just flirted with your boss. There was no going back now.

Hotch blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then a slow smile—rare but devastating—appeared on his face. “Is that right?” he replied, his voice low and most definitely amused. 

Your heart practically stopped, but before you could spiral too much, JJ leaned over with a laugh. “Well, someone’s confident tonight.” 

You hadn’t even realized that not only did you flirt with Hotch, but you happened to do it in front of your coworkers--your profiling coworkers. Ones that were well-trained and versed in all sorts of fucked up psychology that “having an apparent crush on your older boss” would fall under. 

The moment passed quickly, and the conversation shifted again, but your head was spinning. The buzz from the drinks had officially worn off, leaving you hyper-aware of everything. You spent the rest of the night trying to avoid looking directly at Hotch, hoping that maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t taken your words too seriously.

By the time you walked into work the next morning, the weight of what happened at the dinner hit you full force. I flirted with Hotch. The realization felt like a brick sinking in your stomach.

You avoided his office all morning, burying yourself in paperwork and case files. Every time someone walked past your desk, you jumped, paranoid that it would be him coming to say something—anything—about last night.

Why did I have to say that? What was I thinking?

By midday, you were a ball of nerves. Every interaction with Hotch now felt loaded, as if you were walking on a tightrope. When he passed by your desk and gave you a small nod of acknowledgment, you nearly knocked your coffee over, your hands trembling as you tried to act casual.

You could still feel the burn of embarrassment every time you remembered how easy the words had slipped out. And the worst part? He hadn’t seemed uncomfortable at all. If anything, he had smiled. That tiny, knowing smile that you couldn’t get out of your head.

Later, when you were both in the conference room, going over case files, the tension felt unbearable. You barely managed to string together coherent answers every time he asked you a question, your brain too busy screaming Don’t be awkward.

But even in your shyness, you couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered what you said. If maybe, somewhere behind that calm, professional exterior, Aaron Hotchner had actually been flustered, too?

four. 

Everyone else had left hours ago, but you were still there, finishing up some paperwork that seemed never-ending. The only sound was the soft clicking of your keyboard and the occasional creak of your chair as you shifted positions. Being the newest member on the team, you often double- or even triple-check everything, afraid it would be wrong. This cost you a lot of your spare time, but in fairness, what else did you have going on? 

You weren’t surprised that Aaron Hotchner was still there, too. He was always the last to leave, always pushing himself past his limits. It was one of the things you admired about him—and maybe one of the reasons you found it so hard to concentrate whenever you were alone with him.

You glanced at the clock. It was well past 9 p.m., and the fatigue from the long day was starting to settle into your bones. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes when you heard footsteps approaching. Before you could turn around, Hotch’s calm, steady voice cut through the silence.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said softly, standing just behind your desk. “Maybe it’s time for a break.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You hadn’t realized how quiet it was until his voice filled the space. His tone almost vibrating against your ears. 

You quickly straightened up, trying to act casual, though you could already feel your pulse quickening.

“Oh, uh, yeah… probably a good idea,” you said, a bit too quickly. You glanced up at him, and for a split second, you wished you hadn’t. He was standing close—too close—and the sight of him with his tie slightly loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sent a fresh wave of nervousness through you. Why did he always have to look so effortlessly composed?

Hotch tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. “I was about to make some tea,” he said, his voice low and calming. “Would you like some?”

Tea. Something about the simplicity of the offer made your heart flutter. “Sure,” you replied, smiling faintly. “Tea sounds nice.”

A few minutes later, Hotch returned with two steaming mugs. He set one down beside your stack of papers and took a seat in the chair next to yours. 

You quickly pulled your hand back, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way your breath caught in your throat. But of course, he noticed everything. That’s who he was.

“Long day,” he said quietly, sipping his tea and glancing over at you.

You nodded, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling. “Yeah. Feels like the days are getting longer.”

Hotch smiled softly, a rare but welcome sight. “I’d say you handled it well.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Compliments from Aaron Hotchner were few and far between, and when they came, they always seemed to hit harder than you expected. You swallowed nervously, feeling the familiar heat rising to your cheeks.

“T-Thanks,” you stammered, looking down at your tea and willing yourself not to blush. But it was no use. You were hyper-aware of how close he was, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Every word you could have said stuck in your throat, as if your mind had gone blank.

There was a brief silence, the kind that felt charged with something unspoken. Hotch leaned back in his chair slightly, his gaze steady on you. You could feel it—his calm presence, his quiet strength—and it only made your nerves worse. How did he manage to make small talk feel so intense?

“You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “You’re already doing more than enough. There’s nothing you need to prove--you deserve to be here.”

Your breath caught again. Was he worried about you? The thought made your heart race even faster. You tried to find the right words, but they felt stuck. All you could manage was a small, awkward laugh. “I guess I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

Hotch’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you swore there was something in his eyes—something warmer, more personal. He didn’t respond right away, just held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire now, and you quickly took a sip of your tea, hoping it would calm your racing heart. But the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like a quiet understanding had passed between the two of you, something unspoken but undeniably there.

Maybe he put together all of the pieces and realized you were hopelessly crushing on him, so he had pity and let you be. Maybe he thought men made you nervous--but then again, he’d seen you all buddy-buddy with Reid or even Morgan.

As the minutes passed, the tension slowly ebbed away, but the closeness remained. Hotch’s presence beside you felt reassuring, yet it kept your pulse thrumming in a way that made you wish you could stay like this just a little longer. Even if it meant fumbling over your words, you wouldn’t mind.

five.

The overhead lights buzzed softly, and the air was thick with the smell of coffee. You were sitting at the round table in the conference room, papers spread out in front of you, piecing together a presentation for the case debrief tomorrow. Your focus was sharp, and for once, you weren’t thinking about how close Hotch was sitting. Well, almost.

Aaron Hotchner was seated at the head of the table, reviewing files and notes from his section of the case, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence between you felt comfortable—until it wasn’t.

Out of nowhere, Hotch spoke up, breaking the quiet. “Your organizational skills are impressive,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I don’t know how you keep all of this together so efficiently.”

You froze, your pen hovering above the notebook in front of you. He complimented you--again. The words sunk in slowly, and you could feel your face start to burn. Why did he always catch you off guard like this?

“I—uh, thanks,” you stammered, suddenly feeling the need to escape. Your heart raced as you realized how flustered you must look, your cheeks burning under his calm gaze. You barely managed to glance up at him, but his expression wasn’t teasing. It was soft, warm even.

“I just try to stay on top of things,” you mumbled, pushing your chair back too quickly. The sound echoed through the room, making you cringe. You could feel your face turning crimson as you gathered up your papers in a rush, trying to hide your embarrassment.

Why did he have to say something so nice? Why did you have to react like this every time?

You gave him a brief, awkward smile and practically bolted for the door. “I-I need to get this to JJ,” you blurted out, even though you had no intention of doing so.

As you reached the doorway, your hand on the handle, you heard him call your name—soft but unmistakable. You froze in place, half-turned, not daring to look back fully.

“By the way,” he said, his voice still calm but a touch more serious. “You don’t need to rush out every time I give you a compliment.”

Your breath caught, and for a split second, you weren’t sure if you could move. There was no teasing in his tone, no sharpness—just a quiet, sincere warmth. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Hotch noticed more than you thought.

You finally turned slightly toward him, meeting his gaze briefly. “I… I’ll try not to,” you whispered, your voice shaky but honest. Without waiting for a response, you slipped out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest.

And as you left the room, you heard Hotch chuckle softly to himself. It wasn’t cruel; it was amused, affectionate even. That only made things worse.

As you walked down the hall, the sound of his words still echoed in your mind, replaying over and over. You didn’t need to rush out every time he complimented you. And for the first time, you wondered what might happen if you didn’t.

+one

It had been weeks since the last case that left you fleeing the conference room after Aaron Hotchner’s casual compliment about your organizational skills. You’d spent every day since trying to keep your interactions with him as short and as professional as possible, but avoiding him entirely wasn’t exactly an option. You were part of the team, and your role often required working closely with him. That only made your constant nervousness more exhausting.

Every time he passed by your desk, every time he said your name in that calm, authoritative tone, your heart would skip a beat. The nerves were always there, simmering just under the surface. You weren’t sure if he noticed how flustered you got around him or if he simply chalked it up to work stress. Either way, it made every interaction with him feel like walking on a tightrope.

And today was no different after another intense case had finally been closed. You were finishing paperwork at your desk when you saw Hotch step out of his office, his eyes scanning the bullpen. The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted.

He started walking over, his strides purposeful. You tried to keep your face neutral, even as the heat rushed to your cheeks. Stay calm. It’s just work.

You looked up at him when he stopped before your desk, forcing a smile. “Do you need something?”

Hotch’s expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes seemed different today. Less intense, more… hesitant? “Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you quickly nodded, not trusting your voice. You grabbed your notepad, assuming it was something case-related, and followed him back into his office.

As you stepped inside, he closed the door behind you. The click of the latch made the room feel suddenly smaller--more intimate. You turned to face him, clutching your notepad like a shield.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

Hotch didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he walked over to his desk, leaning against it, his arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but there was something in the way he looked at you—something that made your pulse quicken.

“I��ve noticed,” he began, his voice measured but quieter than usual, “that you’ve been avoiding me.”

Your stomach dropped. He noticed. You hadn’t thought it was that obvious, but of course, this was Aaron Hotchner. He noticed everything.

“I… I h-haven’t been avoiding you,” you stammered, though you knew it was a lie. “I’ve just been busy. Lots of cases lately, you know.”

Hotch’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not what it feels like.”

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to overwhelm you. He wasn’t angry; his tone wasn’t harsh or accusatory, but there was a weight to his words that made your throat go dry. He uncrossed his arms and took a small step toward you, closing the gap between you just enough to make your breath hitch.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But I’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around me. And I have to admit, it’s been difficult to ignore.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind racing. Was he going to reprimand you for being unprofessional? Did he think you couldn’t handle your job because of the way you acted around him? Would he send you off to report to someone different? You felt the familiar heat rising in your cheeks and wished you could disappear.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been… awkward,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. At this moment, you felt like a small child, “It’s just—”

Before you could finish, Hotch interrupted, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t seen before. “You don’t have to explain. I think I know why.”

His words hung in the air between you, and suddenly, everything felt different. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “You do?”

Hotch took another small step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. He was so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. For the first time, you noticed the way his usually composed features seemed more vulnerable—like he was grappling with something inside himself.

“I’ve noticed because I’ve been feeling the same way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart stopped. He feels the same way? Your mind struggled to process what he was saying. Aaron Hotchner, your boss—the man who was always in control, always so composed—was confessing that he had feelings for you?

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and all you could do was stare at him in stunned silence.

Hotch ran a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture that sent a ripple of shock through you. He seemed just as uneasy as you were, as though he wasn’t used to being in this position—being vulnerable. “I’ve been trying to ignore it for a while,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reaction. “But…but I can’t anymore.”

The silence between you felt thick with unspoken words, with all the tension and longing that had been building for weeks, maybe even months. And now it was all out in the open.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch smiled—just a small, almost shy smile that you’d never seen from him before. He let out a soft chuckle, “Neither do I. This is… new for me.”

Your mind was still racing, but somewhere amidst the chaos, you realized that he wasn’t just confessing to you. He was just as nervous, just as unsure. For the first time, Aaron Hotchner—the man who always seemed unshakable—was standing in front of you, vulnerable and open.

You felt a surge of courage then, maybe fueled by the realization that this wasn’t one-sided. He was just as affected by you as you were by him. Slowly, you took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

“I didn’t think you’d ever notice,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly, though steadier than before. You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep eye contact, despite the fluttering nerves in your stomach. “I thought I was just… making a fool of myself. That you’d think I was unprofessional.”

Hotch’s expression softened, his gaze never leaving yours. He shook his head gently, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something more tender than you’d ever seen from him before. “You haven’t,” he said softly. “Believe me… I’ve noticed everything.”

The weight of his words hit you, and for the first time, you realized how closely he’d been watching, how much attention he’d been paying to all the little moments you thought were only one-sided. A warmth spread through you, melting away some of the nervous tension that had been building for months.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore—it was charged, yes, but it was also full of something else. Understanding. Relief. The unspoken truth you’d both been dancing around finally laid bare.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, just stood there, the distance between you feeling impossibly small. You took a deep breath, your heart still pounding but lighter now, and offered him a small, hesitant smile. “So… what happens now?” you asked, your voice quieter, as if you weren’t sure you wanted the spell to break.

Hotch’s smile was subtle, but it reached his eyes this time, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “But I do know this… whatever we decide, we don’t need to rush.”

His words were steady and reassuring, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could breathe. The uncertainty was still there, yes, but so was the certainty that you weren’t alone in this anymore. That the feelings you’d been so afraid of had been mirrored all along.

You nodded slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Together, then?”

“Together,” he echoed, his voice quiet but firm.

And just as you turned to leave, feeling the tension melt away, Hotch called your name again. This time, his tone was softer, almost hesitant. You turned back to face him, your breath catching in your throat.

“One more thing,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ve spent a lot of time noticing you. Maybe now… we don’t have to hide it anymore?”

His words lingered in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, but it wasn’t from nerves this time. It was from the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

You smiled a genuine smile this time. “I’d like that.”

With that, you left his office feeling lighter than you had in months. And for the first time, the uncertainty ahead didn’t feel so daunting.

tag list:

@zaddyhotchzaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae <3 if you’re open to it, would you write Spencer reassuring shy reader or reader who is still in grad school and is feeling insecure about her intelligence compared to him/the rest of the team. anyway I love how you write Spencer tytyty <3

Thanks for requesting gorgeous <3

cw: vague discussion of homicide crime scene, reader is a bit intellectually insecure, written with a fem reader in mind

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 754 words

You’re talking to yourself. You do this, sometimes, Spencer doesn’t think you even really mean to. It’ll just be a word here or there, a murmured maybe as you ponder a case or shit when you fill out a form wrong and have to get another. You’d done it in front of Derek once, and even he’d had the good sense not to tease you about it; you’re too green, still, too nervous for good-natured joking. 

The police station is mostly empty, the rest of the team having called it a night except for you and Spencer. In the past twenty minutes, as you’ve swivel in your chair and peered at the board with hawk-like intensity, it’s been no, but if…, and unless? Spencer tries not to let it distract him, but it is cute, the way you seem to be talking yourself in and out of theories, using yourself as your own sounding board. He’s never met an intern—a student, nonetheless—less eager to get to their FBI-bankrolled hotel room. 

It’s when you shake your head at yourself, seemingly dismissing an idea, and mutter stupid, that’s when Spencer steps in. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

You jolt and turn your head like you’d forgotten he was there. “Huh?” 

“You seem like you have an idea.” 

“Oh, I was…it wasn’t anything.” You have one foot on the ground, the other pulled up onto your chair with you, and you’re using it to swivel your seat back and forth restlessly. It’s almost funny; Spencer doesn’t understand how anyone could ever be nervous around him, but you are. You are around the whole team. You’re quiet most of the time, looking at them all with wide eyes and palpable awe while they analyze and ideate. It’s sweet, but also baffling, considering you’re fiercely intelligent yourself. 

Spencer smiles at you. Your lips curve in kind, like they’re not entirely sure why but are relieved to do it. 

“I’d still like to hear it,” he says. 

You visibly shrink, leg pulling closer to you in your seat. “I was just, um, starting to think that maybe the way he laid out the second victim could be a sign of remorse, but then I realized it couldn’t be, because of—”

“The dump site,” Spencer finishes with you. 

You nod, looking abashed. “Right. So, obviously not.” 

“That’s not obvious,” Spencer says. He looks at the board, tapping his thumb on his jaw. “We haven’t been looking at the way the second victim was positioned, there could be something to that.” 

You blink. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I—well, sorry. I just didn’t think there was anything to say. I didn’t want to sound dumb.” 

You cringe like you hadn’t meant to say it. Spencer feels his brows twitch together, though it’s not like the explicit admission surprises him when you’ve effectively been saying it in a thousand implicit ways since he met you. He has the strange urge to reach over and put a hand on your shoulder. It's not like him, so he doesn’t. 

“We all have theories that don’t pan out,” he says, “all the time. We just bounce them off the team anyway in case it leads to another idea.” 

Your smile is almost rueful. “You don’t.” 

Spencer actually laughs. “I do. It’s possible you just haven’t been around long enough to notice.” 

Your head tilts sideways as though contemplating this. It makes your body list slightly in the chair, your leg resting against the cushioned arm. You look more at ease than you did a minute before, softer, the furrow of concentration easing from between your brows. Spencer’s chest feels light and airy without reason.

“It’s not dumb, to have an idea that doesn’t turn into anything,” he tells you gently. “No one in our team would think that.” 

“I know,” you say, sheepish now. “You guys just know so much, I don’t know how to contribute.”

“It comes with experience,” Spencer assures you. “You’ll pick it up quickly, I can tell. You already are.” 

You smile again. It’s more relaxed than before, a bashful pride shining in your eyes. Spencer props his cheek on his fist, mirroring it thoughtlessly. You look tired, though no less pretty for it, the beckoning of sleep gentle in your features. If Spencer was less selfish he’d probably tell you to go back to the hotel, but normally he’s the only one who never manages to use his room during these trips. He finds he really enjoys the company.

[reiderwriter]

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality. 

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him. 

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock. 

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card. 

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it. 

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports. 

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you. 

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people. 

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit. 

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance. 

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff. 

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still. 

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own. 

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk. 

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered. 

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-” 

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through. 

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.” 

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in. 

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him. 

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7. 

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape. 

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery. 

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help. 

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.” 

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?” 

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics. 

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling. 

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details. 

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.” 

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there. 

“Reid?” 

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.” 

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back. 

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued. 

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets. 

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?” 

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face. 

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful. 

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of  your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust. 

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range. 

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked. 

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.” 

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. 

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.” 

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now. 

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around. 

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. 

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets. 

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent. 

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good  and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip. 

“Like this?” 

“A little more… here, let me.” 

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance. 

“Try now.” 

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you. 

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!” 

“Do it again and we can celebrate.” 

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot. 

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body. 

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too. 

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun. 

Straight into the center of the target. 

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.  

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word. 

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week. 

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.” 

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality. 

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass. 

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy. 

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder. 

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.” 

“I'm not-” 

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form. 

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest. 

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?” 

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy. 

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire. 

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.” 

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate. 

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing. 

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend. 

“What do you need?” 

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal. 

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful. 

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit. 

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.” 

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. 

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you. 

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties. 

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him. 

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't. 

“You can do better than that, Y/N.” 

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went. 

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.” 

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again. 

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?” 

He quickly turned the gun on you  pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside. 

“S-Spencer, fuck-” 

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place. 

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.” 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch. 

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon. 

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.” 

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head. 

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs. 

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes. 

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.” 

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck. 

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?” 

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward. 

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's  office. 

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat. 

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently. 

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?” 

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him. 

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass. 

“Fuck, more. Please more!” 

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you. 

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.” 

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him. 

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants. 

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you. 

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face. 

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well. 

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations. 

He kept snapping pictures. 

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him. 

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect. 

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you. 

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?” 

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it. 

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you. 

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.” 

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing. 

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop. 

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.” 

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed. 

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him  lying on the floor next to you. 

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time. 

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Pretty Green Eyes-I Mean Ties

Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Summary: you find a little present for Dean

Warnings: none, pure cuteness, slight embarrassment, gn but use of 'sweetheart'

A/N: I'm obsessed with this gif, not proofread all mistakes are my own

You walked through the iles of the thrift store, looking for new shirts after your favorite one was shredded by a monster last week. You and the Winchesters frequented second-hand shops; your clothing got ruined pretty often, so you had to buy cheap. That's also why you wore so much flannel, it was easy to find here.

The boys hadn't joined you on this shopping trip, so you were left to peruse the store without Dean getting onto you for 'getting distracted by the dead people stuff'. I mean, in your defense, wasn't that kind of part of your job?

As you looked through the men's clothing for a replacement jacket for Sam, something on one of the end caps caught your eye. You went over and picked up the deep emerald green suit tie. It reminded you of Dean's pretty green eyes.

In the years you had been hunting with the brothers, you had developed quite a crush on the older Winchester. Crush? Let's face it. You were in love with him, and you had alway loved his beautiful eyes.

You almost wanted to buy the tie for him. You rolled your eyes at the thought. It's not like the boys were big on gift-giving. Debating for a moment, you decided he could wear it with his 'fed threads' ‐as he called your fake FBI suits- and tossed it in the cart before you could second guess yourself.

"Honey I'm home," you greeted in a sing-song tone as you entered the motel room you were sharing with the boys.

Digging in your bag, you handed Sam the jacket you had gotten him and he thanked you. Dean looked up from where he sat at the end of one of the beds cleaning his gun.

"I got you something too," you said, dropping the tie onto the bed next to him.

He picked it up and looked at you with a brief look of confusion.

"It matches your eyes."

Why did you say that? You internally cringed, feeling the heat rise in your face. Instead of looking at him, you stuffed your new clothes into you duffle bag.

"Thanks Sweetheart," Dean said a sweet smile gracing his lips.

"I'm going to take a shower." You hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Really you wanted to run away from this situation so he didn't see how flustered you were.

"Awww," Sam said in a mocking tone as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you.

You may have missed how Dean blushed when you said that, but Sam didn't, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease his older brother. He knew that Dean had had feeling for you for years, but was too blind to realize that you felt the same.

"Shut up," Dean said, brushing off his bothers' teasing. He ran his fingers over the fabric of the tie and smiled to himself. He knew he would keep it forever.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

A little Thing about Hope Part Two :) !

A/N: I hope you all Enjoy this Part !!!! I think the next one is going to be in Scott and NYC's POV !!!

Y/N’s POV 

You all got inside and set up. This case was just different, I mean it was so huge and so big and so many moving parts.

You all had to be extra careful because you wasn’t sure who you could trust. 

A diplomat has his hands in so many pockets there was a huge chance that he already knew the two of you guys were investigating. 

You tried your hardest to push those thoughts down. What ever was going to happen you had no control over that. 

Scott was setting up next to you. He looked over at you and you could see the concern written all over  his face. You felt bad you knew he had a lot going on and being stressed about you was the last thing he needed. 

So you gave him a tap on his shoulder. Which underneath he just seemed so tense. 

“Hey let’s step outside for a second” Scott said to you. 

“Okay” You whispered back. 

Tank saw the two of you leaving and got up and ran after you guys. You just smiled at him and knew he was probably restless from all the flying. 

You guys walked out the sunlight was strong. You walked around to the side of the building and Scott grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Hey what the hell is going on” Scott said 

“Nothing i’m fine your the one who wanted to come outside and talk to me” You said shrugging your shoulders. 

“Come on don’t do this” Scott said, seeming a little agitated.

“I’m not doing anything” You said snapping a little back.

Scott rubbed his face and he looked around and you weren’t sure about this shift in attitudes. 

“What’s going on you seemed fine now your acting weird” You said 

“I’m not acting weird” Scott said you could hear he was his mad. 

“Fine i’m going back in, let me know when you're ready” You said. 

You started walking away. Scott sighed loudly, you heard then he walked over and grabbed your arm and pulled you back. 

“Hey hey wait” He said. 

“what “ You said turning around him to face him. 

“I’m sorry your right this case has been stressing me out” Scott said. 

“I know i get it what’s going on with it” You asked. 

“Something isn’t just sitting right i’m trying to rack my brain around it” Scott said. 

“I can’t help but keep thinking this man is a diplomat you know they got people in their pocket what if we came down here and it’s just a trap” You said. 

Scott gave you a look like he was thinking the same exact thing you were. 

“Yeah you and me both” Scott said. 

“Listen I trust Jubal and if he trust Nina so do I but this CI’s information how do we know we can trust it how do they know we can trust it” Scott said. 

“Because exactly like you said we trust them if they say it’s good intel than it is i just think our problems are higher up” You said 

“Yeah and our problem is we don’t know who is involved” Scott said 

“So we proceed with caution we only share our intel with us that’s it everyone else get’s basics but we need to share with the team” You said. 

“Sounds like a plan” Scott said. 

“Yeah we got this” You said. 

You leaned in and kissed him real quick then you all headed back in.

Everyone was gathering around talking and they all turned to look at you both when you headed back in. 

You both both walked over and then Scott spoke up 

“Smitty is there some place we all can talk just us” Scott asked. 

She looked confused but then spoke up 

“Yeah theres a conference room down the hall” She said getting up and showing the way. 

Everyone got up and followed her down.

Everyone walked inside the room and looked at each other. 

“What’s going on” VO asked. 

“I wanted some place to talk privately because we right now we know an american diplomat is involved with this case and we have concerns that he has people in his pocket and we could be walking into traps” Scott said 

“Yeah Yeah good point so what do you wanna do” Jubal asked 

“Any intel we get stays between us we only give everyone else the basic information. Also we travel in pairs no one goes out by themselves i don’t care even if its just up the block” Scott said 

“I mean all this seems a bit much we dealt with politics before” Raines said 

“Yeah I know but honestly this case is huge and a lot of moving parts so we play it safe until we know more I honestly also just have this feeling I can’t shake” Scott said.

“Listen i’m with Scott better be more safe than sorry until we know more” VO said. 

“Let’s go then don’t want to look suspicious” You said 

“I agree let’s get going” Nina said. 

You all walked outside the room and back to your work station.  You and NIna started diving into everything you could on this CI.

Raines was on accounting and Jubal and Scott and Vo were working on the Diplomat. 

Everyone was working hard and honestly you all were getting overwhelmed.

There really wasn’t much to go which in your line of work was not a good thing. 

It usually meant he was living off grid and hiding. Even people with no criminal history had something on them.

Wether it be where they worked went to school you always left a paper trail. 

"Does anyone have anything" Jubal asked ?

Everyone stopped what they were doing and leaned back in their chairs and kind of looked around at each other.

"Nothing I mean this CI Craig is just off the radar which we all know" You said

"Yeah sadly" Jubal said

"Nothing on bank accounts either he get's monthly deposits each month one big lump sum around 100K" Raines said

"Anyways we can trace it" Nina asked

"I've been trying but they got it crypted i've been doing everything I can" Raines said

"I've been looking into the diplomat Mark and nothing I mean he's squeaky clean so far which well" Vo was going to finish but then kept it sealed

We all knew what she meant. He was paying someone to keep it hidden.

"What are the chances that Mark and Craig are directly connected what if Mark is a bigger player than we been thinking" You asked

"Fair question and it would explain the deposits" Scott said.

"We can dig into see if at any point they crossed paths" Nina said

"Yes lets do it" Scott said

You all were sitting back up when your stomach growled loudly

"i guess it's dinner time" Raines said laughing

"Yes please I'm gonna die" You said

"Oh man let's not eat then" Raines said

"psh what ever you would miss me to much" You snapped back

"What ever makes you feel better" Raines said

"is that you think cause we can take this outside" Getting up

Raines walked over to you and you two got real close on each other before you couldn't hold it anymore and the two of you busted out laughing.

"Okay guys nice fight now let's go I'm hungry and don't got all night for what ever this is" Vo said.

"Buddy system you gotta go" You said.

"Fine anything to get a break" Raines said laughing.

The two of them took everyones order and then walked out.

"How about a break" Scott said

"Yes please" Nina said.

You all shut down your stuff and gathered a little bit talking to one another.

"let's take tank out" Scott said.

You got up and the three of you walked back out and walked around the building a litle bit to stretch your legs.

"Hey you good" You asked

"I'm good just a little fustrated this whole thing is a mess" Scott said

"It is for now but you know we always find a way" You said grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

He gave it a squeeze back and looked up at you and smiled.

The sun was setting and it looked beautiful

"Were going to have to come back and not for work" You said

"Next time we'll probably be a family by then" Scott said

"Oh for sure it will be our first family vacation" You said

"I love that" Scott said.

"Come on let's go back" Scott said

"Yeah" You said

You all walked back into the building and Scott let go of your hand being the true professional he was.

You joined everyone who was sitting around talking and laughing. It was a nice change of pace. Jubal was telling some crazy story that happened back in NYC.

A few minutes later Raines yelled out

“Real authentic dinner and a little extra because we got two of us are eating for two” Raines said making everyone laugh 

“Thank you it smells so good” Nina said. 

“Let’s go in the conference room” Scott said. 

You all nodded and got up and walked to the room. The food smelled good and you didn’t even realize how hungry you were. 

Everyone settled in and put the food out buffet style. And of course you had to make a plate for Tank. I mean he was hungry too. 

You were eating pasta and and some good bread and you were in heaven. The pasta was truly authentic the sauce and the cheese was so good you were glad they got extra. 

Everyone was talking just getting to know one another. It was nice not talk to shop talk. Scott was sitting next to you of course. 

His hand was on your leg and it made you realize you two needed a date night bad. Suddenly your phone went off and you looked down to see who it was. 

Your dad was attempting to facetime you. 

“Mm excuse me” You said to everyone 

“Where you going” Scott asked worried 

“Don’t worry i’ll stay inside” You said 

You walked outside totally lying because you wanted some kind of privacy and the sun had been setting and it was getting a little cooler out. 

“Hey dad what’s up” You asked 

“Hey i don’t have much time to talk are you somewhere private” He asked 

“Yeah what’s wrong” You asked the worry so loud in your voice. 

“I have intel that someone in the American diplomats office in Italy is on with our main suspect” He said 

“What who told you that” You asked 

“Listen just trust me I can’t really talk okay but his name is “ Was all your dad said before the phone cut out.

You immediately tried calling him back. But there was nothing and there was complete panic. Was it the service did something happen. 

You was about to call another member on his team when a deep voice behind you said

“Why don’t you come take a walk with me” A strange voice rang out that sent shivers down your back.

You turned to look at him. You seen him around the office. You didn't even know his name.

You felt like you shouldn't question this man deciding to see where it went. Scott was in the same building if anything went wrong.

He walked down a long hall way and you could feel your anxiety rising. you were worried about this and your dad.

Finally at the end of the building you made your destination. It was a small office that looked like a closet. There wasn't anything even in it.

What ever was going on this man didn't want anyone to know. To your better judgement you walked into the offiice and the man shut the door behind the two of you.

"Your Agent Y/LN" He said in his mototone voice.

"yeah what's going on" You asked

"I got some intel you may need on Mark" He said

"Why would I trust you and why are you just telling me this" Something wasn't adding up.

"Because I know who your dad is" The man said

"Remy Scott SSA for the most wanted team now" The man said

Your heart was beating and sweat was coming off your forehead.

"What how do you know that" You asked

"I uh worked with him before" You could tell he was lying

"Listen take this" He said giving you a flash drive

"How can i trust this and you" You asked

"All your answers are on this" He said

The he walked out the office leaving you dumbfounded. What the hell is going on.

What happend to your dad and what the hell was on this flashdrive ?

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Wes Mitchell

Key

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello! Could I please request the prompt "Please, tell me what to do." for Wes Mitchell ❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @district447 @witchygagirl

Companion piece to:

One Night - Wes asks if he can stay the night while he finds a place in Budapest.

Think About It - Wes asks you to think about his offer.

Push - Wes realises he's pushed you too hard.

You’re on the couch when Wes lets himself into the apartment, you’re wearing those cute little pyjama shorts, the ones he tugged off when he was going down on you the night before he left for Madrid. His t-shirt is draped over them, clinging to your form in a way that makes Wes want to strip it right off you because a week without you, it’s just too much.

He leaves his duffle bag by the door as he steps towards you. You tilt your head up to meet his gaze and he remembers the letter he left, the one that’s caused all this friction between the two of you.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He says as he sits down on the couch beside you. “I’m sorry, I just… I forget that you’re not like me, that everyone’s recovery is different…”

He trails off because he can’t find the words to explain any further. The marks of his history are seared into his skin, years of bad foster parents and juvenile delinquency and the mental ones…

Well, he was seven shades of fucked up long before the FBI got it’s hooks into him.

“I should have been honest with you when you first turned up on my doorstep.” You say quietly as you angle your body towards him, your arm coming to rest on the back of the couch. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I was broken-”

“You’re not broken.” Wes asserts, his hand coming to rest on your forearm, his thumb tracing over the tattoo of a constellation etched into your skin. “A little banged up maybe.”

The edges of your mouth tip up into a grim smile and the knot in his chest loosens just a little as your gaze flickers up to meet his.

“This thing with the Fly Team, I appreciate it but I’m not ready to put myself into a position where I can experience something like that again.” You tell him, your fingers entwining with his. “Seeing those girls chained up like that, starved to death in that storage container, it eviscerated me and I’m not in a place where I can jump back in just yet. I don’t know if I ever will be and I’m sorry if that disappoints you-”

“Antonia,” Wes interrupts you, his grip on your hand tightening. “There is no way on this earth that you could ever disappoint me. If you need time, take the time, if you need space, I’m happy to give you as much or as little as you need. If me being here is stressing you out, you just need to say the word and I’m gone. You just tell me what you want me to do and I will do it.”

“And if I want you to stay?” You ask him.

“Then I’ll stay.” He tells you, his lips brushing over the underside of your wrist. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sabrinajenre96]

Wes Mitchell x FBI!Reader:

WARNING:Please be aware that this story contains depictions of violence and injury, including a character being shot and undergoing surgery. It also deals with emotional themes of love, loss, and regret. If these topics are sensitive for you, please consider this a warning before reading.

The air crackled with tension. Greg Csonka’s conviction hung in the balance, and the fly team was tasked with ensuring his secure transport. You, an FBI agent with a history intertwined with Wes Mitchell, felt the weight of the situation. You and Wes shared a deep connection, a silent understanding that shimmered beneath the surface of your friendship. But life, in the form of his previous relationship and your own reticence, had kept you apart. Neither of you dared to risk the comfortable camaraderie for something more, something potentially explosive.

Alongside Wes and your best friend and colleague, Cameron, you were part of the escort detail. Chaos erupted when an ambush shattered the carefully laid plans. Bullets flew, adrenaline surged, and the hunt for Csonka began. You three took the lead, determined to recapture the fugitive. Cornering him in what you thought was a secure location, you never saw the sniper’s nest. The crack of the rifle echoed, followed by a searing pain. You crumpled to the ground, the world tilting on its axis. Csonka escaped.

The world narrowed to the frantic shouts of your teammates and the rising panic in your own chest. You were vaguely aware of being rushed to the hospital, the urgency in their voices a stark contrast to the fading light in your eyes.

The team’s world stopped. Everyone was at the hospital, a silent vigil for your life hanging heavy in the air. Raines stayed by your side, while Cameron, Smitty, Mitchell, and Booth relentlessly pursued Csonka. Wes was a man possessed, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a grim determination. He pushed himself to the limit, but his thoughts were only with you, his mind replaying every shared laugh, every stolen glance.

They found Csonka, but the confrontation ended in his death. The case, though closed, felt hollow. Their victory was overshadowed by the fear that gripped them all. They rushed back to the hospital, desperate for news.

Raines met them with a weary but relieved smile. You were stable, but in the ICU. Complications during surgery had necessitated close monitoring. One by one, they were allowed to see you.

Wes was the last to enter your room. He sat beside your bed, his hand gently resting on yours. He thought you were unconscious, lost in the medicated haze. The dam of his emotions broke.

"Y/N," he began, his voice thick with unshed tears, "I… I have to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago. I’ve been in love with you since… well, since forever. But I was an idiot. I let things get in the way. I was afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of… everything. Remember that time we went to that concert, and it rained? We were soaked, but we just laughed. That was the moment I knew. But I was with someone else, and… I messed up. I’ve been messing up ever since. Please, Y/N, come back to me."

You lay there, perfectly still, listening to his heartfelt confession. Every word resonated deep within you. You had felt the same way, the same unspoken longing. The concert, the rain, his laughter… those memories were etched in your heart, too. A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but you kept your eyes closed, wanting to hear every word.

When he finished, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, which was filled with a mixture of hope and despair.

"I love you too, Wes," you whispered, your voice weak but clear.

His eyes widened in disbelief, then filled with a radiant joy that chased away the shadows. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss.

"I love you," he repeated, his voice husky.

"I love you too," you replied, a smile gracing your lips.

The road ahead wouldn't be easy. Navigating the complexities of your careers, the aftermath of the shooting, and the delicate dance of a new relationship would be challenging. But you faced it together, two souls who had finally found their way to each other, their love a beacon in the midst of the storm.

[reiding-writing]

Spencer making cold!Reader flustered? And morgan teasing

CUP OF COFFEE [ONESHOT]

/kʌp əv ˈkɒfi/

a local officer on a case you’re working on really wants to impress you, spencer reid does it without even trying.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, morgan being morgan, reader trying to be civil but ultimately failing

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 2.9k || series masterlist!!

a/n: reader doesn’t actually get all that flustered but i feel like it’s more accurate this way rather than having her go into a full on fluster considering her personality-

main masterlist!!

It was always fifty-fifty when working with local police departments on a case. They either wanted absolutely nothing to do with the FBI or they would follow you and the team around like a bunch of children.

This one was the latter, and it was arguably the worse of the two.

It felt like every time you rounded a corner you had a police officer just waiting to divert all of your attention away from the case so they could ask you questions about your job, and it was starting to get really frustrating.

“Have you ever worked a case like this before?”

“Not specifically,”

“How do you know how to write a psychological profile for a type of crime you haven’t encountered before?”

“I‘ve got a PhD in Psychology-“

“What exactly is a psychological profile?”

You were starting to get really annoyed now.

You know there was no ill intent behind his questions, he looked no older than his early twenties, fresh on the scene and to the types of things the criminal world really had to offer.

He genuinely wanted to learn, but when you were trying to catch a serial killer before they had the chance to kill anybody else, you didn’t exactly have time to entertain all of his questions whilst also focusing on the profile you were trying to curate at the same time.

“You can ask me your questions after this guy is behind bars,” That was probably as nice as your request was going to get.

“Right- Sorry- I’ll stop talking now,” He pressed his lips into a tight line with a small nod as he took your words to heart.

The boy reminded you of Spencer in some ways. He was tall and disproportionately lanky, he seemed to have a never ending stream of curiosity, he dressed decently similarly, and he even made the same expressions you’ve come to recognise as a staple of Spencer’s personality.

One thing that was very different between the two though, was that Spencer knew how to take a hint.

He would’ve left you alone the second those words came out of your mouth, but instead you had now gained yourself an observer as you worked, one that was cemented by the scraping of metal chair legs on the carpet and a messenger bag hitting the floor.

You fight the urge to audibly groan at his persistent presence, closing your eyes with the silent prayer that something would call his attention out of the room so that he would leave you to work in peace.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Looks like God was on your side today.

“Come in,” You call out towards the door with an internal sigh of relief, wringing the whiteboard pen in your hands as you turn towards the door you’d specifically left closed so people like officer curious sat at the round table wouldn’t bother you.

Your relief was short lived when Morgan walked through the door, and you don’t even try to hide the groan that leaves your mouth at the look on his face as he enters. “What now?”

“Now now, that’s now way to be a good role model to your youngers now is it?” The smug look on Morgan’s face only widens as he spots the officer at the table. “I’m looking for pretty boy, can’t find him anywhere,”

You shrug as a response. “Unlike the rest of you, he knows when to leave me alone, so I haven’t seen him,”

If that wasn’t the most direct indirect way for you to say you didn’t want the officer’s presence whilst you worked you didn’t know what was.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. “Well, we've got a lead on the case. Thought you might want to be in the loop.” He glances at the officer, then back at you.

You give him a short hum and discard the whiteboard pen on the table, having to physically raise your hand to stop the officer from following the two of you out of the room. “We need to speak privately for this, I’m sure you understand,”

“Right- Right yeah sorry- I’ll just uh- wait here then…”

You give him a short nod with your lips pressed taut into a line as you push Morgan out of the small meeting room and into the hallway, following behind him and clicking the door shut behind you.

“Got yourself a fan have you?” Morgan chuckles slightly as he watches the officer take a seat back at the table through the room’s window, his eyes on you as he tries to silently soak in every detail of the conversation through the glass.

“More like a parasite, he hasn’t left me alone for more than five minutes all day.” You groan exasperatedly as the two of you walk to a private area to have your conversation.

“Can you blame the kid? He’s probably never seen an FBI Agent in person before, he’s just excited,”

“Annoying is what he is,”

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

When you return to the put-aside meeting room reserved for your profile making, there are two cups of coffee on the table, and of course, the officer is still sitting there.

His head turns up to the door as you open it, and he straightens his back in the chair. “Welcome back- I uh- I made you some coffee, I wasn’t sure how you liked it so I asked one of your team members- Two sugars right?“

He pushes the mug carefully in your direction so the drink doesn’t spill, and you walk right past it back towards the whiteboard.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink coffee in mugs used by other people, nor do I drink coffee made by an unhygienic office coffee machine,” You try your best to be civil as you shut him down.

“Ouch-” Morgan leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, shaking his head in exaggerated disapproval at your response. “Don’t be so harsh-”

You roll your eyes at Morgan’s input, turning your gaze to the now slightly embarrassed officer. “I appreciate your effort,”

“I should’ve asked you personally, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologise you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s fine,” You give him a small tilt of your head to hammer the fact that everything was fine home so that he didn’t completely crumple up into himself and leave you to deal with it.

“Right, sorry- I mean-” The officer sighs as he gives up talking, taking the two mugs in his hands as he stands from the table. “I’ll take these out,”

Morgan follows the boy with his eyes as he walks past to leave the room, and you slump your shoulders the second he’s out of sight.

“For God’s sake-”

“You’ve really got yourself a little shadow,” Morgan continues to revel in your misery as he steps further into the room, letting the door close behind him.

“I am two minutes away from ripping him a new asshole if he doesn’t take the hint and leave me the fuck alone,” You groan exasperatedly, dragging your palm down your face as you take a seat on the edge of the table. “I’ve barely gotten anything done because he keeps peering over my shoulder like a goddamn five year old with separation anxiety,”

You weren’t wrong in the first half of your assessment, most of the whiteboard you’d been using to write down your notes was empty despite you working on the profile for multiple hours at this point, and judging by the attitude of the poor officer you were slandering the second half of your assessment wasn’t too far off either. “You never get that frustrated with Reid,”

“How is that at all relevant to anything I’ve just said?”

“Come on, you’ve gotta be able to see the similarities here, he’s practically a carbon copy of what Reid was like when he first joined the team,” Morgan gives a short laugh as he gestures in the direction that the officer had just left in.

“Reid was just as annoying back then,”

“He’s barely changed at all-” Morgan rolls his eyes at your half-assed way of explaining why Spencer was an exception to your frustration.

“He’s changed a lot actually,” You shake your head with an impatient sigh as you lean over to grab your whiteboard pen, using it to keep your hands busy.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” He mirrors the way you shake your head with his own. “That boy is your kryptonite and you know it,”

“Get your ass out of this room before I cover your face in whiteboard marker penises,” You don’t refute Morgan’s claim and he knows it, standing up with a smirk and his hands raised comically in surrender as he retreats to the door.

“Yes ma’am,” He turns for the door handle with a laugh, but the door swings open before he can, and you mentally prepare yourself for that goddamn police officer to walk back into the room and continue hovering over you like a mosquito.

You don’t have to.

“Well speak of the devil,” Morgan tilts his head knowingly at you as Spencer bypasses him to enter with a cardboard holder of take out ocffee cups in hand, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion at why you and Morgan would be having a conversation about him without him being present.

Morgan nudges Spencer with his elbow, eyes locked on you as he starts to spill. “Little miss Ice Queen and I were just talking about-”

“There’s a possible lead in the case.” You interrupt him before he can divulge any details of your conversation. “One you would benefit from knowing about. Morgan was looking for you,”

“Oh-” Spencer gives a short nod in your direction, leaving the cups on the table to ball his hands together and then flex his fingers like a mini hand workout. “I was in the coffee shop down the block sorry,” He takes the two cups from the holder, one in each hand, and holds the one in his left out towards you.

You take the cup from him with your lips pressed into a small line, as much of a thanks as you’re going to give and as much of a thanks as he was expecting in the first place.

“They were established back in 1902 and continue to make their coffee using traditional methods rather than using a machine like most coffee shops do in the present day.” He takes a sip from his own cardboard cup after his little bit of exposition of the shop’s history and you mirror him in doing the same.

Absolutely perfect.

As to be expected from someone when the person who ordered it had an eidetic memory. And maybe a little bit better because that person was Spencer Reid. Maybe.

“I-” You’re not exactly sure what to say. Obviously a thanks would be worth voicing, but he had gone out of his way to buy you a cup of coffee, even if him remembering your order was like reciting the alphabet in his head.

“Thank you, it’s nice,” You give him a small nod through your mostly deadpanned expression as you take a second sip through the plastic lid of the cup, trying in vain to seem nonchalant about the unannounced gift that he’d brought back for you.

Morgan noticed immediately. Of course he did, because when was Morgan ever minding his own goddamn business?

“No problem,” Spencer’s face erupts in that bright smile of his, and his words get half caught in his throat as he tries to speak whilst in the middle of swallowing. “Did you know that coffee is actually a fruit despite coffee beans being called, well, beans? The coffee beans that we use to make drinkable coffee are actually the pit of coffee cherries, that grow on bushes in low-altitude tropical regions,”

You give him a small hum and a nod as an acknowledgement of you taking in the information, and Morgan laughs at the way your eyes flicker away from Spencer’s gaze rather than holding it firm like you usually would. “No coffee for me pretty boy?”

“You had a cup of coffee in your hand when I left,”

“So what? I’m stuck with the shitty police station coffee and little miss ‘I hate everyone’ gets your old fashioned fancy coffee?” Morgan’s accusation holds no malice in it whatsoever, and if his tone wasn’t enough to display that, the goddamned smirk on his face definitely was.

“I do not hate everyone, just you,” You shoot your retort at him with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

“You wound me,” Morgan clasps his hand dramatically over his chest, pretending to stumble backwards out of pain. He knew you didn’t hate him really, no matter how much you claimed to.

“Caffeine helps increase brain functioning, which will help when curating a profile,” Spencer half points to the still mostly empty board behind you and you almost groan at the reminder of just how little progress you’ve made. “And she doesn’t like the coffee machines, so a proper cup of coffee is the next easiest option,”

You almost forget to breathe as Spencer explains his reasoning behind the coffee run. He’d remembered that tiny detail. Obviously he had, he had an eidetic memory. But he’d actually thought about it and made a conscious decision to find you a caffeine fix elsewhere in the wake of that knowledge.

“Everyone should preferably be drinking properly made coffee, but with the prices I’m not surprised people choose the cheaper option, even if they’re not getting as much caffeine per drink,” Spencer shrugs as he continues his explanation, finishing it off with another sip from his cup.

Your eyes turn up at the mention of the price. You hadn’t considered the fact that him buying you coffee actually included him buying the coffee.

“How much was it?” You glance between him and the cup in your hand as if trying to figure it out yourself based solely on the black tree printed on the cardboard, eyebrows furrowed at the idea of him spending a lot of money on two cups of coffee of all things.

“Uh,” He deliberates on whether to actually tell you, but he knows that you’ll find out one way or another so there was no real point in trying to hide it from you. “Eighteen for the both of them,”

“Eighteen dollars? You spent eighteen dollars on two cups of coffee?” He was expecting that reaction from you.

“Proportionally it’s actually relatively inexpensive considering how it’s made and the beans that are used. Some professional coffee makers charge upwards of fourteen dollars a cup,”

“And those coffee makers are absolutely fucking insane,” You stare down at your cup as you internally judge whether it was worth a whole nine dollars. It was a great cup of coffee to be sure, probably the best one you’d ever had, but nine goddamn dollars? It wasn’t even a large cup. “Nine goddamn dollars for a cup of coffee my god,”

You can see Spencer’s expression falter slightly in your peripheral vision at your outrage of the price, something that you’d definitely not intended and something you considered an easy fix as you left your cup on the table to rifle through your bag.

“You are simply something else Dr Reid I swear,” The second you pull your purse out of your bag he knows what you’re going to do, and he tries to shut you down before you can even start.

“I- You don’t- I chose to pay for it with my own money you don’t-”

You make a ‘zip’ motion across your mouth with your middle and index finger to stop him from talking as you pull out a ten dollar note and shove it into the chest pocket of his cardigan so he can’t refuse to take it from you. “Never buy me a drink that expensive again,”

“Right,” Spencer presses his lips tight into a line with a small nod, “Did it taste okay at least?”

“It was probably the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had, but that doesn’t make it not ridiculously expensive.” Spencer doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that emerges on his face at your approval, even if it was backhandedly berating him for buying it in the process.

“Cough cough lovebirds, in case you forgot, Reid still needs to be debriefed about the new lead,” You don’t even bother trying to retort to Morgan as you pick up your coffee and leave the room with Spencer happily trailing behind you.