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gghostwriter · 4 months ago

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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.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid oneshot

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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🔫 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.

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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its-rach-writes · 7 months ago

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Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #reid #spencer #criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

Text

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

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #shy!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #kiwriteswords #aaron hotchner one shot

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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

Ink Impressions

Summary: Y/N is a hot new tattoo artist that Derek and Emily want to see more of...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: tattoos

Word count: 2.1k

main masterlist

Derek Morgan found himself walking through a part of town he didn't visit often. His steps slowed as he passed a new shop front: Ink Impressions. The sign was sleek, with an artistic flair that caught his eye. It was new, and he’d heard a few people at the gym talk about how talented the artist was. Curious, and with a rare free afternoon on his hands, Derek decided to check it out.

The interior was a mix of industrial chic and cozy comfort. Dark wooden floors complemented exposed brick walls adorned with framed tattoo designs ranging from intricate mandalas to minimalist line art. The hum of tattoo machines filled the air, mingling with the scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of clients and artists in conversation.

Derek approached the front desk, where a young man with a friendly smile greeted him. "Hey, welcome to Ink Impressions. How can we help you today?"

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo," Derek replied, his voice carrying its usual confidence. "Do you guys take drop ins?"

The young man nodded, gesturing towards the back of the shop. "You’re in luck. Our lead artist is available. Her name’s Y/N. She’s amazing. I’ll take you to her."

Derek followed, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. They rounded a corner, and there she was. Y/N was seated at her station, her focus intense as she worked on a client's arm. She was striking, with vibrant hair that fell around her face in waves, a few tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves. She exuded an air of confidence and artistic passion that immediately drew Derek in.

The young man cleared his throat softly. "Y/N, this is Derek. He’s stopped by for a drop in. Do you think you can fit him in before your next appointment?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Derek’s with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, setting down her tools and removing her gloves. "Hi, Derek. It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to help you with that. Do you have any specific ideas, or would you like me to create something unique for you?"

Derek felt his usual charm waver slightly under her gaze, but he recovered quickly. "I have some ideas, but I’d love to see your take on it."

After Y/N finished with her initial client, she sat down with Derek and discussed the concept, and Y/N sketched a design that captured the essence of strength and resilience, elements that resonated deeply with Derek. Her talent was evident in every stroke, and he was impressed not only by her skill but also by the way she listened and understood the emotions behind his request.

As she prepared her station, Derek glanced around the shop, trying to mask his growing interest in her. "So, how long have you been tattooing?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "About seven years now. I started apprenticing right out of high school and never looked back. I opened this shop a few months ago."

"That’s impressive," Derek replied, genuinely admiring her dedication.

Y/N began the tattoo, her touch gentle yet precise. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I’m an FBI agent," Derek said, watching her work. "Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Y/N looked up, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. "Wow, that sounds intense. Do you solve a lot of mysteries?"

Internally, Y/N couldn't help but laugh. She knew exactly who Derek Morgan was. Spencer had talked about him often enough—his partner at the BAU, a close friend. She could almost hear Spencer’s voice, recounting their cases, his admiration for Derek's skills and strength.

So this is the famous Derek Morgan, she thought, amused. Small world. But she kept her face neutral, professional. She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. The last thing she needed was for Derek to know she was dating his colleague. It would complicate things, and she prided herself on maintaining a clear boundary between her personal and professional life.

"Yeah, it can be," Derek replied, oblivious to her internal amusement. "It’s challenging, but I love it."

As the session went on, Derek found himself captivated not only by Y/N’s talent but by her presence. She was easy to talk to, and he enjoyed the way she seemed genuinely interested in his stories. There was an effortless connection, a spark that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When she finished, Derek looked at the tattoo in the mirror, his heart swelling with emotion. "It’s perfect," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."

Y/N smiled, her expression warm and sincere. "I’m glad you like it, Derek. It was an honor to create this for you."

As he paid and prepared to leave, Derek couldn’t help but linger. "Maybe I’ll be back for another one," he said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a twinkle in her eye. "I’d like that. You know where to find me."

As Derek walked out of Ink Impressions, the cool air hitting his face, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He knew he’d be back—not just for another tattoo, but to see her again.

—

The bullpen was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity as the team settled back into their routines. Derek Morgan entered with a confident swagger, a fresh energy emanating from him. As he passed by desks, he couldn't resist pulling up his sleeve to show off his new tattoo. It was an intricate design, beautifully done, and it immediately drew attention.

Emily Prentiss, seated at her desk, caught sight of the tattoo and her eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Morgan! That’s incredible. When did you get that done?"

Derek grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. "Got it on Saturday. There’s this new shop called Ink Impressions. The artist is amazing. She really knows her stuff."

Emily stood and walked over, examining the tattoo more closely. "The detail is fantastic. Who's the artist?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his face. "Her name’s Y/N. She’s not just talented—she’s also incredibly sexy."

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Sexy and talented, huh? Sounds like you had quite the experience."

Derek chuckled. "You could say that. She’s got this way about her—confident, passionate about her work. You should definitely check her out if you're thinking about getting some ink."

Emily's interest was piqued. "I’ve been considering a tattoo for a while now. Maybe it’s time to finally go for it."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "You won't regret it, Prentiss. Y/N’s the real deal. Plus, the shop's vibe is great—professional but with a cool, laid-back atmosphere."

Emily looked thoughtful, already envisioning what design she might want. "Alright, I’m sold. I’ll swing by Ink Impressions this week and see if she has any openings."

As they chatted, Penelope Garcia sauntered over, having overheard part of their conversation. "What’s this about a sexy tattoo artist?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Derek laughed. "Garcia, I think you’d love her. She’s got this artistic flair that’s right up your alley."

Garcia clapped her hands together. "Well, now I have to see this for myself. Maybe I’ll get something small to start with."

Emily grinned. "Looks like Y/N might have a few new clients this week."

As they shared a laugh, the phone rang, signaling the start of another case. The team quickly shifted gears, but there was a newfound buzz of excitement. Derek's tattoo had not only impressed his colleagues but also sparked a sense of camaraderie and curiosity.

Throughout the day, Derek couldn't help but think about Y/N and the connection they’d shared. He was eager to see her again, not just for her talent but for the undeniable chemistry between them. Little did he know, Emily and Garcia’s upcoming visits to Ink Impressions would bring them all a step closer to intertwining personal and professional lives in ways they hadn't anticipated.

—

Emily Prentiss walked into the shop, greeted by the familiar hum of tattoo machines. She was greeted warmly by the receptionist and soon found herself in front of Y/N, who looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Hi there! What can I do for you today?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Emily smiled, feeling instantly at ease. "Hi, I’m Emily. A friend of mine, Derek Morgan, got a tattoo here recently. I was so impressed that I decided to get one myself."

Recognition flashed in Y/N's eyes, and she chuckled inwardly, remembering the charismatic agent. "Ah, Derek! He’s a great guy. What are you thinking of getting?"

As Emily described her idea, Y/N listened intently, her mind already envisioning the design. Despite knowing Derek and his world, she kept her focus on her craft, maintaining the professional boundary she valued. But as she worked on Emily's tattoo, she couldn't help but feel a growing connection to these agents, wondering how long she could keep her secret before the lines between business and pleasure inevitably blurred.

—

The BAU team had decided to unwind after a long week, gathering at their favorite local bar. The place was lively, filled with the hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the distant sound of live music. Spencer Reid had just returned from visiting his mother in Las Vegas, and he was grateful for the chance to catch up with his colleagues in a more relaxed setting.

As the team settled into their booth, drinks in hand, Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan were excitedly discussing their recent tattoos. Emily pulled up her sleeve to show off the intricate design on her forearm, while Derek proudly displayed the tattoo on his bicep.

"You guys have to see this," Emily said, her eyes shining. "Y/N is incredible. Her artistry is on another level."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "And she's not just talented—she’s smoking hot. I’m telling you, she’s got this whole vibe that’s hard to resist."

Emily laughed. "We were just saying, it’s almost a competition to see who’s going to ask her out first."

They both looked at each other, playfully competitive. "You think you can beat me, Prentiss?" Derek teased.

"Oh, I know I can," Emily shot back, a mischievous grin on her face.

Spencer, sitting quietly beside them, listened to their banter with a growing sense of unease. His fingers tightened around his glass as he processed their words. The name Y/N echoed in his mind. He knew exactly who they were talking about. His girlfriend, Y/N, was the talented artist they were raving about.

Trying to maintain his composure, Spencer asked, "What shop did you guys go to?"

Emily turned to him, still smiling. "It’s called Ink Impressions. It’s a new place, but it's already getting a lot of buzz."

Spencer bit his lip, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He felt a pang of jealousy but also pride knowing how highly they thought of Y/N. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm.

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Y/N walked in, looking around until her eyes landed on him. She smiled warmly and started making her way over to their table.

Emily and Derek continued their playful debate, oblivious to Spencer’s internal turmoil. "I don’t know, Derek. I think I’ve got the upper hand. I mean, she seemed pretty interested when I was there," Emily said, winking.

Derek laughed. "We’ll see about that, Prentiss. I’m not backing down from this challenge."

Spencer couldn't hold it in any longer. He set his drink down and cleared his throat, catching their attention. "You might want to rethink that competition."

Emily and Derek looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" Derek asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Y/N reached the table, her presence commanding their attention. She placed a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Hey, baby."

Spencer's face lit up with a smile, and he looked up at her with obvious affection. "Hey, beautiful. I’m glad you made it."

Emily and Derek’s jaws dropped simultaneously. "Wait, you two know each other?" Emily asked, incredulous.

Spencer nodded, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Yeah, you could say that."

Y/N grinned, sliding into the booth next to Spencer. "I guess the secret’s out," she said, laughing softly. “Spence here is my boyfriend.” Y/N gazed at him lovingly.

Derek shook his head in disbelief, but there was a playful glint in his eye. "Well, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us. I guess that means you win by default."

Emily chuckled, raising her glass. "To Spencer and Y/N. I guess we don’t need that competition after all."

The team raised their glasses, toasting to the unexpected revelation. As they settled back into their conversation, Spencer felt a sense of relief and happiness. He had nothing to hide anymore, and the night seemed even brighter with Y/N by his side.

#spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #bau family #bau team #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #fluff #criminal minds fluff

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thirdsaltyhunter · 4 months ago

Text

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 finger over the fabric of the tie and smiled to himself. He knew he would keep it forever.

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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

Note

If your down could u write an imagine where reader is new to the bau and Spencer is just coming back from jail and he makes reader nervous and when he notices he starts to mess with her nothing to wild but he teases her every now and again -🖤

drop | S.R.

in which reid seems to be there every time you drop something

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: fluff, lighthearted teasing, clumsiness, obliviousness, reader is mentioned to be shorter than 5'7" (sorry it just worked for the story)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey anon! thanks for requesting, i think i may have verged away from the request on accident. also this is the one i posted about earlier that had been deleted by word so i had to rewrite it and therefore it's not very thoroughly proofread. hope you enjoy.

It came as a shock, most people needed to apply to the BAU and even then, they spent years trying to get in. You had gotten a call four months ago and were told you were leaving IOD in the Hoover building and would be expected at the BAU the next morning.

Years ago, you had a run-in with Emily Prentiss while she was heading Interpol in London, but you didn’t think she remembered you – let alone wanted to work with you. She brought you on to the team to help catch Peter Lewis

Now, Peter Lewis was dead, and Spencer Reid had been exonerated. You thought your time with the team was done, but when Emily caught you packing up your things, she told you she had no intentions of sending you back to the International Operation Division.

So, you made yourself comfortable at your desk across from Luke’s, even adding a picture of your family, just to make it seem a little lived-in.

It was something you’d had drilled into your head by your father: if you’re not early, you’re late. That was the reason why you were usually the first to the BAU, only sometimes being beaten by Dr. Reid.

Penelope said he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact that he made you nervous. Not nervous in the sense that you were scared of him, but nervous in the way that he was something of a legend in the FBI.

Even more so since his recent release from prison.

You felt a sort of disconnect from the team when it came to them trying to get Reid out of prison, whenever Nadie Ramos came up in conversation, you picked up your files on Mr. Scratch and distracted yourself. Of course, you helped where you were needed, but you didn’t know him like they did.

This particular morning, you had beaten him to the office, taking your spot at your desk and flipping through a file you had abandoned in the name of sleep last night. A slight crash made you jump so badly that you fumbled with the papers in an attempt to not drop them. You looked up to see Spencer had dropped his bag on his desk, “Good morning, Y/N.” He greeted you.

Blankly, you stare at him for a moment before giving him a half smile. “Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you responded.

“I told you that you could just call me Reid, or Spencer,” he said, sitting down at his own desk.

Nodding, you found yourself interested in your coffee cup. “Yes, you did,” you took a deep breath. “Good morning, Spencer,” you tried again, offering him a fuller smile.

That seemed to appease him for now because he flipped open his own files and started inspecting them.

As you were preparing for the 10 o’clock debrief, you found yourself in the office kitchenette, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot that had been brewed an indeterminate number of minutes ago. Vaguely aware of the person standing behind you, you turned around to find Spencer, holding his own mug in both hands. “Oh! Hey,” you said, mentally smacking the palm of your hand to your forehead.

You moved out of the way as you added cream to your mug, watching as Spencer poured his coffee and followed it up with an almost equal amount of sugar. As you were about to make your way to the round table room, Spencer spoke, “You know, before 1975 you wouldn’t even have been able to be an FBI agent.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Before 1975 people shorter than 5’7” couldn’t be FBI agents,” He responded plainly, but there was a bit of mischief in his eyes.

You looked at him curiously, warmth flooding your cheeks. You stammered something about being late and rushed to the roundtable room, taking your usual spot next to Luke, and watching what Garcia presented to you—pretending not to notice Spencer across the table from you.

The BAU had been asked to consult on a case, but there were no precincts that had asked the team to make a trip to them. You had finished the paperwork on a recently closed case and got up to bring it to Emily, stuffing the papers in a file folder, you turned around and ran into Spencer. “Sorry!” You squeaked out, dropping to the floor to pick up the papers. To your surprise, he crouched down next to you and helped to pick up the papers. “Oh, jeez, now they’re all out of order,” you moped, setting the papers back down on your desk.

“It was my fault,” Spencer said. The honesty in his voice made your shoulders slouch.

Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s okay, Spencer. They’re just papers.”

He looked at you like there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t, he just turned from your desk and walked out of the bullpen, leaving you staring.

When you finally brought your papers to Emily, she asked you to close the door behind you. Patiently, you stood in her office while she added your file to the menacing pile she kept on her desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing. With the BAU, I mean,” she told you, leaning over her desk.

“Good, I think. I’ve gotten very few complaints so far,” you told her, unable to help the uneasiness you felt. Had someone said something?

Emily nodded, her dark hair shining with the movement, “Good, I haven’t heard anything negative about you at all. Which is actually uncommon for the BAU.”

You let the rest of the day pass, but as the team trickled out of the bullpen, only you, Emily, and Spencer were left.

At the sound of rustling, you looked over to see that Spencer was packing up his things and putting them into his familiar leather bag. Resting your cheek on your hand, you went back to your case file, marking thoughts in the margins.

Jumping when something hit your desk, making the metal rattle, you dropped your pen on the ground. Peering up to see Spencer giving you a lopsided smile before he bent down to pick up your pen, “Hey, at least you didn’t drop a bunch of papers again.”

You flushed as your eyes followed him out the glass doors of the BAU, turning around to see Emily watching on, leaning on the railing outside her office, looking between you and Spencer as if she knew something you didn’t.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #emily prentiss #spencer reid imagine #written by margot #margot's asks #criminal minds request #spencer reid fanfiction #🖤 anon

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 1 year ago

Text

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 ?

#fbi cbs #fbi #fbi x reader #jubal valentine #scott forrester #andre raines #carmen vo #fbi international x reader #fbi international imagine #fbi international #remy scott #scott forrester one shot #scott forrester imagine #scott forrester x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 8 months ago

Note

I have an ask for OA Zidan 🪻 The prompt is 15. A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don’t. Thank you so much.

References to upcoming series 'All That Glitters'

Tagging: @trublu2u @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @redpool @district447 @yousigned-upforthis @stelacole @abby-splace @delightfulheroshoeflap @alice30martini

OA tries to give a shit about Scott Forrester’s feelings, really he does. It’s clear you meant a lot to each other in the past, that Scott still bears the weight of the attack. OA can’t blame him, he would too. He tries to take all of that into consideration when he deals with the other man because it’s hard for him being around you, it’s hard for you too. You’ve started having nightmares again.

It’s when Scott suggests using you as the delivery girl for international sex trafficker Colin Kent that OA finally snaps.

“Hanna fits their target demographic, she looks young, vulnerable…” Scott’s face remains stoic as he says the next part, his arms folded over his chest as he leans back against the desk. “You need to channel what happened to you, use it make yourself as non-threatening as possible.”

OA sees the effect it has on you. It’s subtle shift but OA can read you like a book. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the clenching of your jaw. The fingers of your left hand curl into a fist and he can see the light tremble there when you flex them. It makes him want to punch Scott Forrester right in the mouth.

“He likes beautiful women.” Scott reminds them as he meets OA’s eyes, as if he can forget everything Kent orchestrated back in New York. He still dreams about Julia’s blood smeared all over his hands, he still hears her last breath. “He’ll step out to get a look at Hanna, she’s just his type.”

OA fucking hates him in that moment.

He waits until you leave the building before he storms into the other man’s office, slamming the door so hard behind him that the glass shakes in the frame. He can tell from the expression Scott’s face that he half expected this reaction.

“You don’t get to do this to her again.” He finds himself snarling as he jabs his finger at Scott. “You don’t get to revictimize her…”

“This is our best chance…” Scott begins but OA’s already cutting him off.

“But it’s not the best thing for Hanna.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t see the look in her eyes?” Scott snaps, vivid blue eyes boring into OA’s. “I’m asking her to do the exact same thing as I did back then and it makes me sick to my stomach.”

It’s the emotion in Scott’s voice that catches him off guard, the haunted look in his eyes. That devastation OA feels in his chest, Scott has it tenfold because he’s re-living what happened six years ago, the last time he asked you to go undercover.

“If there was any other way I’d do it.” Scott tells him, his palms resting flat on his desk. “But Vo’s too green and Natalia’s not the right fit… It has to be Hanna.”

Every single part of OA rallies against it despite the fact he knows that Scott’s right. He hates it, he hates this whole damn case.

“I am trusting you.” OA tells Scott, his voice raw as he speaks. “I am trusting you with the most precious thing in my life, if anything happens to her…”

Scott reads the undertone.

If you let something happen to her again…

“That’s why you’re coming with us.” Scott tells him, removing his Glock from the desk drawer and slipping it into his holster. “You’re going to make sure I don’t fail her again.”

Love OA or Scott? Don’t miss any of their stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#oa zidan #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #omar zidan #omar zidan x reader #omar zidan x you #scott forrester #fbi international #fbi cbs #fbi

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simpforrooster · 4 months ago

Text

then why don’t you, hotchner.

aaron hotchner x reader

summary: reader is obsessed with their boss.

t/w: some cursing, alcohol consumption. i pictured a female as i wrote, but im pretty sure it can be read as gn!

aaron hotchner is your unit chief. your very hot unit chief.

you’re completely aware of how unethical this infatuation is. you’re also aware of the age difference.

not that you care.

nothing could come of this crush. no matter how much you dreamed something would.

jj, emily, and penelope knew about this silly little crush. i mean how couldn’t they. they’re profilers, and as much as you try not to let your gaze linger on him longer than normal, sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

you’re nestled in a corner booth of your local bar with the rest of the team, blowing off some steam after a case.

reid sits next to you, animatedly talking about his latest read.

hotch meets your eye across the table, feeding you a rare smile. as quick as it appeared, it was gone. the last thing you needed was for one of the girls to notice and try feeding you false hope.

jj was the worst about it. “y/n, he’s obsessed with you. haven’t you noticed he always pairs the two of you together on a case?”

of course, you have wondered about that.

reid lays his arm on the back of the booth, enveloping you. “you need to add this one to your list,” reid tells you, looking down at you. you crane your face to his, grinning at your friend.

what you missed was the way hotch’s jaw set as he watched the two of you. you miss the way his grip tightens on the handle of his mug.

hotch throws the rest of his beer back, setting the mug down a little too hard.

“let me get you another, boss,” derek says, eyeing the rest of the table.

“oh, this is our song, jj,” emily screams, pulling jj to the dance floor.

“spence, come tell me more about that book,” penelope says. reid’s brows knit together, and penelope jerks her head toward the bar. realization falls over his face and they’re the last to leave. leaving you and hotch alone.

“they’re not exactly subtle, are they?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

“i guess i could say the same about you,” you gestured toward his empty mug.

hotch shrugs his shoulder. “i’m not sure what came over me.” he held your gaze, leaning across the table.

“what was that about?” you ask.

“come on, y/l/n. you’re a better profiler than that.” those dark eyes bore into yours.

"were you jealous, hotchner?" you ask, calm and collected on the outside but dying on the inside. maybe jj was right.

“why would i be jealous of reid when i know i’m the one you want?”

your cheeks redden. hotch stands from his spot in the booth and slides in next to you. the man has shocked you into silence. there is no way your boss is flirting with you.

hotch’s jaw works back and forth, like he’s fighting an inner battle with himself.

“how do you know that?” you murmur.

“you think i don’t notice the glances you sneak at me? or the way your cheeks turn red when i have to be stern with someone?” his fingertips run across your cheeks. “give me some credit here.”

embarrassment fills your body, making your heart sink to your feet. of course he knew. he’s the damn unit chief. he’s the best profiler the fbi has.

“what’s confusing to me is how you never picked up on why i partner the two of us up. or how i sneak my own glances at you,” he says, low in your ear. “or how turned on i get when i watch you hand someone their ass.”

“hotch—“

“i know. i’m your boss and twice your age.”

your body falls back against the wall, all the air leaving your body as if you were punched. of course the unit chief has a moral compass.

“i-i- i don’t care about that,” you manage to say. hotch’s eyes close, another internal battle. he scoots closer to you, filling trapping you between him and the wall.

“dave told me you’d say that.”

“rossi? you’ve been talking to him about us?”

hotch smirks. “he’s been pushing me to make a move since you joined the unit.”

“then why don’t you, hotchner?” you ask.

“because the paperwork would kill me,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

“hmm, maybe i could help you fill it out?” you suggest, letting your eyes drop to his mouth.

hotch moves in, stopping a breath from your lips. “no paperwork would get completed if i had you in my office all to myself.” gripping the collar of his button down, you pull him the remainder of the way to you.

his lips mold around yours in a way you can only describe as perfection. like his lips were made for you, and you alone. he kisses you with an urgency, and you match it. raising up from the booth, you arch yourself into him. his hand cement to your waist, pulling you as close as he can.

when he pulls back, his face is flushed. the aaron hotchner is blushing.

because of you.

pride fills your gut knowing you affect him the same way he does you.

“you’re gonna submit that paperwork to strauss, right?” you ask, breathless.

“fuck yes,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

a/n: my first criminal minds fic! i’ve been writing for topgun maverick for a long time. since beginning to watch criminal minds again, i’ve been dying to write for hotch and reid. i hope yall liked this! 🫣

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotch imagine #agent hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotchner x reader

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misserabella · 4 months ago

Text

two geniuses (one sacrifice)

spencer reid x reader (enemies to lovers!)

masterlist this is chapter 4! go check out the rest!<3

synopsis;; things have gone sour in between spencer and you after that kiss. but you need to make a decision and accept that everyone… is a sinner. and sinners make pretty sacrifices.

cw;; tobias hankel episodes (E15,16 S2)!!!, ANGST!!!!!, usual reid vs reader behavior, kidnapping (reader), used of y/n (i know i’m sorry but i cannot use nicknames yet), shots being fired, ‘this is calm and it’s doctor’, death of characters, usual criminal minds stuff, weapons, branding (ouch), religion themes, fighting, beating, blood, drowning, pretty much torture, crying, drug use (reader gets drugged), spencer losing it, comfort at the end, mental health disorders (did), a lot more but i can’t remember!!!…

«and i looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was death. and hell followed with him…»

after your kiss with spencer, things had taken the wrong turn. you couldn’t stop thinking about it. about how soft his lips had been, the wine on his tongue, his rough hands cradling your body, taking your cheeks as he devoured your mouth like a man starved. couldn’t stop thinking about his heavy breathing, about his needy eyes, his words when you’d told him to slow down… ‘i can’t’. every time you remember the need in his voice, the feeling of his hard cock against your thigh it sent shivers down your spine. but now… now he was acting like a dick.

“you had him in front of you and you still missed?!” he frowned, infuriated, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding.

“he wasn’t in front of me, he was in front of you! if you hadn’t been on the way i could’ve gotten him!!”

the arguments had gotten worse. the hatred had gone up a notch. he was insufferable.

“so you thought the best thing to do was step in front of me and take a bullet?!” you groaned.

“you’re welcome!” you rolled your eyes at him. the paramedics were taking off your perforated fbi vest to look at the damage. by the way it hurt to breathe you were sure one of your ribs had cracked.

“‘you’re welcome’? ‘you’re welcome’?!” he scoffed in disbelief. “do you know that actually the vests aren’t bullet proof? what if the bullet had gone through it? what if it perforated one of your lungs?!”

“well next time don’t make me step in front of a bullet, reid!” you groaned. your head was starting to hurt.

“oh this is my fault now…?!”

“yes! yes it is your fucking fault! you were distracted!” he sighs and you groaned in pain when they took out your vest. under your shirt there was a nasty bruise growing darker by the minute.

“distracted? i wasn’t distracted.” he defended himself, ‘cause if he was distracted then right now he was out of his mind as you unbuttoned your shirt, your simple white bra displayed for his hazel eyes. he gritted his teeth, looking away at the flashing of your memories together in the hotel, the beach… that kiss.

“but you were! you didn’t even notice he was pointing at you until it was too late! in your position he would’ve got you, reid. you were down on your knees and he was pointing at your head!” he looked exasperated once his eyes found yours again.

“so stepping in front of me and getting shot was best?!”

“yes! if it means you get to live then yes!”

“looks like we’ve got a fractured rib.” the paramedic said. “but nothing too serious. you’ll be alright.”

“she’ll be alright? she needs a full body scan, what if it has punctured her lungs? she could be bleeding internally!” he babbled, and the paramedic tried to slow him down.

“there’s no sing of it. her breathing sounds fine, her heart beat is stable, calm down, agent.”

“this is calm. and it’s doctor.” he sternly said back and you sighed.

“reid. y/l/n. enough.” hotch stopped the two of you. he took a glance at spencer and his stern look told him everything he needed to know. spencer stepped away, fuming, his fists clenched. you sighed. “are you alright?” your boss inquired you.

“i’m fine. it’s just discomfort.” he nodded.

“alright. but if you feel faint or just off, tell me.” you nodded and he stepped away to finish talking with the sheriff, leaving you with emily and jj —who had been watching your interaction with the other genius from afar— as the paramedics put on some numbing ointment and wrapped your torso.

“what was that?” emily’s eyebrows were raised, her arms crossed over her chest.

“what was what?” you inquired.

“that. all of this. what’s going on between you and spencer later?” jj clarified, waving his hands around in the air, as if she could physically feel the tension and heaviness in the air even after he was gone.

“he’s just being a dick. nothing new.” you shrugged. “thank you.” you said to the paramedic who welcomed you with a smile and wished you a quick recovery as you buttoned back up your shirt.

“yeah but lately you two have been fighting non-stop.”

“we always have.”you frowned.

“not like this. it’s been worse since you two…” jj trailed off and your eyebrows raised.

“since our last case. since you two kissed.” emily finished up for her and all color left your face.

“what? nonsense.” you spat, but your micro expressions were enough to betray you. goddamn profilers.

“y/n…” emily tried and reason with you, but before she could jj’s phone was pinging.

“we have a new case.”

saved by the bell.

tension is tricking down your skin under spencer’s gaze as the team surrounds the table. jj has the remote in hand, ready to give out the information about this last butchery.

“georgia. the kyles, dennis and lacy, were murdered an hour ago in their suburban atlanta home.”

“an hour ago?” hotch frowned.

“the police were on scene unusually fast.” the blonde clarified the doubts that arose inside the room.

“why?” morgan inquired.

“one of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.

“you’re kidding.” derek scoffed and jj shook her head.

“from inside the house.” eyebrows rose. “according to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there because the other, who they both identified as raphael was about to kill the ‘sinners’ that live there.”

“sinners?” hotch replied just to make sure and jj nodded.

“the 911 center is going to send garcia a copy of the tape.”

“how fast was the police response time?” spencer inquired and your response eyes smoothed over his curls, his pointy small nose, high cheekbones and perfect jaw as jj answered.

“four minutes, 26 seconds. during which time raphael managed to do this.” images of the crime scene filled the screen and emily whistled with impression. “mr. kyle is a dot-com millionaire. his company is one of the largest employers in the community. there’s gonna be media coverage. also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

“revelation, chapter 6, verse 8.” you muttered. “they’re killing ‘sinners’. this is a mission.”

“and mission-based killers will not stop killing.” spencer nodded, taking in your words.

“this is a bad one, isn’t it?” emily asked and morgan sighed.

“unsubs with a cause are never good.”

“even less if they’re religious.” you muttered. “violence is perpetrated for a wide variety of ideological reasons, and religion is generally only one of many contributing social and political factors that may foment it.”

penelope perked up with a ping of her computer. “pets? i just got the 911 call from the georgia state police.” she informed as she played it for the whole team.

the voice through the other side was soft, silent, wobbly as he explained that the people at that house had too much stuff, possessions, from raphael’s perspective, who was cutting in with a shape ‘that’s enough’ that rendered the submissive male silent.

“well, unsub one definitely sounds frightened, maybe he’s doing this against his will.” emily pointed out but gideon shook his head.

“i doubt it. he whispered.”

“he could have called out to save them instead of calling 911.” hotch agreed.

“not if he had a gun to his head.” morgan chirped but you rectified him.

“if he had a gun to his head, why would he have dialed 911?”

“the second unsub said raphael was going to kill someone. is there a third?” jj inquired and spencer answered.

“referring to oneself in the third person is not uncommon for an unsub.” you nodded, stepping into his rambling.

“an example of it is ted bundy. he gave detailed accounts of his murders but he never admitted to doing it. he would just say ‘the killer’.” he looked at you with something hidden behind his eyes. fury, proudness? who knew?

“i’ll run the name through our system.” garcia said.

“we have a killing team on a mission in rural georgia. we know what that means.” hotch talked through the silence that came with garcia’s keyboard clacking.

“they’re not going to stop until the mission’s complete.” morgan said as he inspected the photos of the crime scene.

“but is there an ending to the mission? there will always be more ‘sinners’ to be taken care of.” you sighed and spencer chuckled.

“of course not. these unsubs are guided by a misunderstood point of view of a religion with shaky foundations. their reasoning is beyond cure. they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t fit the epitome of pure.” your eyes clashed against his at the condescending of his tone. you wanted to punch his jaw shut.

“then we need to hit the ground running. we need an inside picture of the victims. victimology can be critically important in a mission- based spree.” you talked to the group and spencer clapped his hands.

“you came up with that alone? brilliant deduction.” your eyebrows furrows as his eyes rolled in annoyance.

“what’s your fucking problem?” you gritted through your teeth, tension building in your body and in the air surrounding the two of you as you took a deep inhale of air that had your cracked rib throbbing.

“enough.” hotch cut short your quarrel for the second time around that day. “once we get there, prentiss, go where the bodies are. examine the wounds. they managed to kill two victims in four and a half minutes. we need to know how.” emily answers with a ‘you got it’. “i’m going to the atlanta field office and go over case files. it’d be unusual for a first kill to be this efficient.”

“reid, y/l/n and morgan come with me to the crime scene.” gideon ordered and you could almost feel the migraine that sharing space with the genius would bring you.

“wheels up in 20. we’ll land in less than an hour. so, everybody, try to get some rest.” hotch notified and all of you nodded, getting up from your seats and getting ready for this case.

“i’m tired of people using religion to justify the terrible things they do…” you sighed as you took a look at the blood stained carpet of the crime scene.

“you’re saying these killers are on a mission?” one of the officers of georgia asked.

“these unsubs believe they’re either on a mission from god or that the bible is somehow guiding them.” reid stepped up.

“sounded to me like only one of them was into the mission.”

“it’s usually more complicated than even that. in the case of dick hickcock and perry smith, perry was the subservient personality, basically against even entering the clutter home, yet he was the one who almost single-handedly slaughtered the entire family.” he explained in a messy blurb of words.

“huh.” was all that the agent said in response.

“how many times was mr. kyle stabbed?” gideon asked.

“stabbed isn’t exactly the word. they were slashed through the major arteries. they were made pretty much at the same time.”

“like an animal at slaughter…” you muttered.

“exactly like an animal at slaughter. you cut the throat first then sometimes open other major arteries to assist on draining the carcass.” reid added and you looked at him.

“so maybe a hunter?”

“or a farmer.”

gideon and morgan looked at the two of you. and in their eyes there was something you already knew. you could not like spencer, but the truth was that you two made the perfect team. and there was nothing that could change that fact.

“this unsub was good. they didn’t stand a chance.” gideon said and morgan stepped up to the other side of the room.

“okay, i know my partner called 911. the police are on the way, so i don’t have a lot of time. now, assuming unsub one didn’t actively participate, i gotta believe i entered the bedroom from here.” he pointed at the bedroom door to his left. “i see mr. kyle on the other side of the bed. so i approach him.”

“and you cut him first.” you nodded.

“how do you know that?” the agent asked you and you hummed.

“a blitz attacker neutralizes the greatest threat first. in this case, it would be the man.”

“plus, the 911 call, a woman screamed.” gideon added.

“you can’t scream with your throat cut.” spencer pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“genius.” you whispered, winning a pissed off look from him and his hazel eyes.

“shut it.” he whispered back.

“make me.” your tongue betrays you with your witty come back before you can think it through and his face changes to a one of shock for a second before he relaxes once again into his hatred. but you’ve seen it. that look in his eyes. and you’re sure his mind has drifted back to your kiss. when you had shut him up for good. you almost smirk. ‘cause that little flash has made him gone quiet.

“so mrs. kyle sees her husband murdered, she runs back into the bathroom.” morgan continues with his reading of the room, completely oblivious of your bickering and tension as he enters the bedroom, taking the door with his gloved hands. “she tried to close the door behind her. i force my way in… and i kill mrs. kyle back here in the bathroom.”

“we checked that smudge for prints.” the agent points to the blood on the door beside morgan. “nothing. looks like he wore some gloves. not with any pattern. like latex maybe.” you shook your head.

“that doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“it doesn’t?”

“unsubs suffering from a psychopathy, a delusion like a message from god, are what we would classify as being disorganized. they don’t generally clean up after themselves.” reid explains for you. always meddling into your business, of course.

“maybe unsub one, the frightened one, made sure they did.” you argue with him and his eyes are piecing as he looks at you, but the ringing of morgan’s phone snatched both your attentions away.

“yeah, talk to me, baby girl. yeah.” he looked around the room after garcia inquired him something. “if a settee is a little couch. what? what’s wrong? a viral what?” you frown in curiosity and from derek’s own frowning. “garcia, is there some point to all of this?” he steps forward towards us. “garcia. there’s a video of this murder on the internet?” the three of you are perplexed under his gaze, and then he’s looking from side to side as he ends the call before stepping towards a computer in front of him.

“they’re watching us.”

«the armies of satan shall not prevail.»

tobias hankel. it was the first time you heard his name. a witness to an unknown prowler that hotch had asked spencer and you to ask a few questions to help recognized the aforementioned.

tobias. hebrew. meaning ‘god is good’. under his facade. his sweet, nervous eyes you might think lives a good man that resembles the meaning of his name.

and yet, the devil was looming over his shoulder.

“hi. mr. hankel?” i inquired after my knocks and the screeching of his opening door.

“uhmm. yeah?” he looked innocent. pure even. how could you haven known? they say you can sense it. smell the rotten. but this rotten second mind taking over hankel was so well hidden that you couldn’t even sniff it.

“mr. hankel. fbi. i’m agent y/l/n. this is doctor reid.” you two showed him your badges and the man frowned.

“fbi?”

“may we come in?” spencer inquired, and tobias looked over his shoulder into the safety of his home.

“i’m sorry. i don’t let anyone in the house.”

“actually, i really have to, you know, go.” spencer awkwardly said and you gritted your teeth. seriously?

“you do?”

“yeah. for like thirty minutes.”

“why didn’t you say something in the car?”

he completely ignored you and looked at tobias once again.

“do you mind?”

“i’m sorry. my father doesn’t like it.”

“father? you’re like, 30.”you almost elbowed him on the stomach.

“at what age should one start disrespecting the wishes of their parents?” he inquired seriously to the genius behind you and you stepped into the middle of the conversation to fade away the discomfort brewing in between them.

“you witnessed something a few months ago that might be very helpful for us.” you kindly said.

“i did?”

you nodded. “you saw someone go over a wall into a yard. you called the police?” he frowned.

“me?” you copied his gesture.

“you didn’t?”

“sorry.” he shrugged and spencer hummed in thought.

“is there another tobias hankel here?” you inquired.

he shook his head. “just me and my father, charles.”

“there’s a report on file that lists you as calling 911. you were walking a dog…” he cut you off.

“no, that’s wrong. i don’t have a dog.”

“oh.” you muttered. “all right. well, sorry to brother you, sir.”

“sorry. have a good night.” tobias said before closing the door and leaving the two of you alone.

“that’s weird…” you said as you started to walk down the front steps of the porch. “why bother calling the police in the first place if later you’re just going to pretend you didn’t?” spencer seemed to connect something inside his mind then, because he looked at you with widened eyes.

“to gauge the response time.”

“what?”

“if you were going to kill somebody but you wanted to call the police first, what would you need to know?” he inquired you and your eyes widened the same way his had.

“how long it takes them to get there.” you nodded and he quickly ran around the house. “reid!” he looked into one of the windows and found what he was looking for, screens, almost 15 of them over one another showing live feed of people lives. when tobias spotted him, he started to run. spencer called after you. “get back here! he’s the unsub, he’s in the barn, come on!” you took out your weapon and trailed behind him towards the barn. “he’s in here.”

“are you sure?”

“have you ever seen me pull out this thing is i wasn’t?!” he pointed at his gun and you rolled your eyes. always the same. “call hotch.”

“we’re in the middle of nowhere, reid, we have no cell service.” you stated the obvious with a. ‘seriously’ look on your face and he groaned.

“great. of course we have no service.”

“okay. let’s do this. i cover the front you go around back. hotch knows we’re here. he’ll come looking for us, we’ll just wait him out.” you stood up and he shook his head.

“no, no, no, y/l/n.” but you had already gotten into the barn leaving him behind.

“tobias hankel! fbi!” you called out, pointing your gun to your surroundings as your eyes tried to get used to the dim —almost inexistent— lightning. you toon out your flashlight as you stepped further in, taking in the interior of the barn, the chains handing from the ceiling… until something splashed below your feet, and when you looked down… blood.

next you hear? the snarling of three bloodied dogs. yellow eyes under the light of your flashlight as they bared their teeth at you, their fur so black you were sure they were more than dogs. hell hounds. ready to devours you as they already had devoured your last victim.

you gun fired at them just in time to dodge their fangs and avoid the tearing of your skin in a shriek.

your heart is pounding out of your chest as you run out of the barn to scape the third dog, that haunts you down to the back of the barn and plunges at you with hunger in his eyes, you fight, even though the fall against the dirt has left you breathless and your torso hurts due to your fractured rib. the barrel in his mouth as he nips at the metal before you push it aside and end with his fury with a shot to the head. nothing has ever made your heart break more than the whimper of pain that leaves the hound’s mouth as he falls.

you’re panting as you scramble backwards away from the body. that’s until you hear spencer’s scrambled voice.

“wait. wait. wait.”

along with tobias’ and the other unsub’s voice.

you quickly press your feet back onto the ground as you followed the sound.

“i could have stopped him by myself!” tobias shouts.

“okay. okay.”

“i tried to warn everyone.”

“just relax, mister hankel. all right?”

“shoot him!”

and then there was a mess of voices.

“no! i don’t want to!”

“i said. shoot him you weakling, he’s a satan!”

“he didn’t do anything!”

“i won’t tell you another time, boy. shoot him!”

“tobias hankel!” you pointed at him with your gun, your eyebrows furrowing when you only find the two of them, alone, no other unsubs.

spencer’s gaze falls on you. he’s on the ground, hands up.

“another devil! told you to get rid of the first, boy!” the voice of raphael that you’d only heard on the 911 recorded phone calls leaves tobias’ mouth and your frown deepens before you understand what was going on.

“raphael?” you inquired and the man looked at you with an stern despised look.

“how dares a devil call my name?” he grumbled and your whole body froze when the finger he had on the trigger twitched. he was pointing straight at spencer’s head.

your mind quickly tried to find something. anything. anything that could take the man’s attention away from the brunette. he was shaking his head at you but you’d already made up your mind. you knew what to do.

“i need to confess my sins” you looked at the genius, his brown puppy eyes on the unsub, who kept pointing at him. one mere twitch of a finger and he’d be gone.

“talk child” raphael ordered, and you swallowed.

spencer called out your name. “don’t.”

“silence!!” the man yelled, the barbell pointing at his head, to what you quickly yet calmly spoke.

“i’ve been lustful raphael. i’ve let the devil inside of me.” you quickly spoke. “and it felt so good.” the tone on your voice seemed to haunt him, his teeth gritting against the other. you knew what this man, these men, despised, and you were gonna take advantage of it. “i’ve been greedy. so greedy, raphael. i only took this job for the money, for the power. and i’ve killed innocents, i’ve killed believers like you. i fear the devil who has possessed my body has turned me into one.”

“you need saving. dirty devil whores like you need to be expunged!!” he spat. “i can save you child. i can make the forgiving loving god take you in between his arms once again.” you rose up your hands, in a quick motion of your hand throwing your weapon aside, leaving you at his grace.

“i would like that. and i know i don’t deserve it. but as a last undying wish, please, let this man be. take me and save me instead. he’s as pure as they can be.” you looked at spencer, whose eyes only read fear. maybe for his life. maybe for yours. you feared yours didn’t have saving anymore. “let my sinful life lead to the saving of the pure ones.” he looked at you, pondering. you only wished he would fall into your words, that spencer’s blood wouldn’t fall onto the hay.

“thank the lord i’m as forgiving as him, boy.” the unsub said with one last step and look in his direction, before hitting spencer in the head with the gun, making his vision turn blurry as he fell onto the floor. “now come child, let’s make you pure again.” he ordered, and with a flicker or your eyes towards the profiler, who in between merely conscious babbles called out for you with ‘don’t’s’, watched you go by the hand of who could possibly be your ending.

you didn’t even strain against the ropes that tightly kept you sat on the wooden chair, your eyes taking in the looking like basement in which who you had recognized as charles had dragged you to. he was messing with metal around a fireplace, and even though you wanted to think that it was all a mistake, that in reality it couldn’t be possible, you deeply knew what would happen next.

he took the bar out of the fire, the iron red in heat. “you know what this is?” he inquired, showing you the cross branded at the end

of it, a cross that will surely burn your skin and brand you for the rest of your life. “it’s god’s will.” you gasped when one of his harsh hands took a hold of the front of your shirt, tugging at it and making the buttons pop, exposing your chest to his dark eyes.

“you don’t have to do this.” you tried, although you knew it would fall on deaf ears.

“i’m just an instrument of god. and you my dear, are a devil i need to eradicate.” your fear coated eyes watched as he slowly approached the cross to your exposed skin, the warmth of the iron making your skin prickle. and even though you fought against the restrains that bounded you to your fatal fate, you could not scape his will.

a scream ripped from your throat at the searing pain of the branding, the smell of your own skin melting away making you feel sick in your lightheaded state.

“stop. please stop.” you cried out, tears falling from your eyes as he pulled away the iron from your skin, throwing it aside.

“i though you wanted this. you came to me, to us! i can see it in your eyes, you want to be saved!” he maniacally talked.

“no…” you shook your head, your vision turning white for a moment at the harsh smack he left on your cheek, making you turn away.

“that’s just the devil inside you talking, dear. don’t worry. i’ll take care of it.”

“i’m not a devil!” you begged. “i’m not a devil, i’m a woman.” but he wouldn’t believe you.

“the devil lies.” he muttered as he undid the ropes tying you to the chair, although you were still immobilized as he dragged you by your hair.

“i’m not lying! i’m not, please!”

“the devil lies.” you watched as he dragged you to a tub filled with water. “and for that i shall baptize you in the father’s holy water.”

“no, no, you don’t have to do this…” you pleaded.

“oh, but i do…” you took a forceful deep breath before cold ice water was hitting your face and head, drenching you down to your chest and new searing brand. you fought against his hold. but he was too strong. you choked on the water, trying to grasp a bit of air with every pull and tug out of the water as he practically tried to drown you, although you were becoming dizzy, on your mind the thought of dying here consuming you. you could catch fragments of his praying as he drowned you, an “amen” falling from his lips as you lost consciousness and let your body plummet into the ground.

maybe this was the end.

and strangely enough, the last thing that went through your mind before you fell onto the darkness was spencer.

you woke up with a gasp, back at the chair, the door of the little cabin closing behind the unsub, who carried in between his bloody arms a skinned animal.

he looked at you, and you knew this wasn’t raphael, or charles, what made you slightly sigh.

“you need to eat.” he said, putting the animal aside.

“what’s your name?” you inquired, softly, your throat sore by the cold water you had accidentally swallowed. you needed to make sure this was the man who had greeted you at his door and not the shadow taking over his mind when he wasn’t looking, or another unknown alter.

“tobias.” he answered and you nodded.

“who was here before?”

“it was probably my father.” he said, and then took on your disheveled aspect. your drenched state and the red skin-melted cross on your chest. “i’m sorry he hurt you.” he sincerely said, although you quickly panicked when you saw him walk towards you while taking off his leather belt.

“what are you doing?” oh god, please no, you through as he made quick work of pulling up the sleeve of your shirt and harshly buckling it around your arm. “no. no. please don’t.” you begged.

“it helps.” he promised as he took out a needle and a crystal little bottle. “don’t tell my father. he doesn’t know they’re here.”

you watched in between sobs as he injected the needle on the bottle, getting a shot of whatever drug it was to guide it to your arm.

“please. i don’t want it. i don’t want it. please.”

“trust me. i know.”

“please, don’t.” you whimpered, hissing in pain as the needle breached your skin, your body jolting as the drug filled your veins.

“it helps.” he muttered. “what are you doing boy?” raphael’s voice cut through. the man in front of you was splitting again. “i was just trying to help.” “help a devil?” a smack was given to his own cheek. “you’re weak! they don’t deserve help. they deserve saving. justice!!! and i’m gonna give it to her.”

“you ready, girl?” the man, now charles, tugged on your hair.

“ready for what?” you grunted.

“my weakling son thinks god gave you to him for a reason. let’s see if we’re both right.” he said letting you go to turn around your chair, pulling a camera in front of you.

“spencer! we already told you you can’t be here. you should be with the paramedics!” jj said, trying to stop spencer from coming into the house. where the team was trying to find out your location.

“any luck?” he inquired, ignoring the blonde, to what hotch shook his head.

“seems like the kid self-medicated with heroin. we contacted rehab and they told us they have no idea where he could be, but we found out that hankel has a serious drug problem.” prentiss said.

“that could explain the psychotic fracture.” hotch said.

“what are you talking about?” jj inquired.

“tobias is living as at least three different people.”

“himself, his father and raphael…” spencer muttered. “so we have nothing? we’ve seen what this man is capable of and we have nothing?”

“spencer…” gideon tried to stop him.

“no. you… you don’t understand. she saved me. and god knows what she could be going through…”

“we have something.” the police officer entered the house. “this could be bad news. a computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. a suburb outside of atlanta. thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives and a satellite.”

“if its tobias, it puts him right back in business.” hotch said.

and just as he muttered those words morgan was calling out for the whole team.

“guys! guys, get in here!” he yelled, guiding them to the computer’s room.

prentiss gasped at the sight of you on the screens. “she’s been beaten.”

spencer could feel all air leaving his lungs at the sight of you. drenched clothes, bleeding chest, bruised cheek and hazy eyes.

“can’t you track him?” jj inquired in a rush.

“hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” garcia said.

“this is for us. he knows we’re here.” gideon said.

“i’m going to put this guy’s head on a stick.” morgan cursed.

“he branded her.” spence couldn’t help but choke on his words. “oh god. this is my fault. if only i had…” his hands were on his hair, his hazel puppy eyes frantic.

“spencer, look at me. look at me!” morgan stopped him, taking his shoulders. “we’ll find her, alright? we’re gonna find her.”

“why can’t you locate him?” hotch asked garcia, to what she started typing.

“he’s rerouting to a different IP address every 30 seconds. i can’t track him.”

“there’s must be something you can do. anything!” spencer begged, while on the other side of the screen, the killer was giving you a choice.

“you really see inside men’s minds?” hankel asked, you didn’t know if you were talking to raphael or his father, charles, walking in front of the monitors. “see this vermin?” you looked at the people on the screens he had pointed at, who unknowingly lived their lives. “choose one to die. i’ll let you choose one to live.”

you shook your head. “no…”

“i thought you wanted to be some kind of savior.” he frowned walking towards you.

“i already saved someone who deserved saving.” the man grunted, tugging at your hair.

“choose.”

“you’re a sadist in a psychotic break. you won’t stop killing. your word is not true.”

he looked at the camera that recorded you.

“the other heathens are watching.” you looked at the camera. so your team was watching you… “choose a sinner to die, and i’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved.”

“i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” he tugged harder onto your hair, smacking you and making the whole team gasp.

“you really see into my mind, girl? can you see i’m not a liar? choose one to die, save a life. otherwise, they’re all dead.” he pushed you against the chair and you closed your eyes tightly. your cheek was on fire. and surely bruised by how badly it hurt.

“alright.” you swallowed. “i’ll choose who lives.”

“all the same.”

you looked at the screens. pondering. did you have a choice? could you save them all?

“far… far sight screen…” the killer looked at that screen.

“marilyn david. 4913 walnut creek road.”

“you got that?” morgan inquired to garcia and gideon was quick to call the saved woman to warn her about the recording computer.

the screen that was recording her turned black, and when the man turned you recognized that look in his eyes. “raphael?”

“you’ve done your part. now it’s my turn.”

spencer caught on your hand moving by your side, your fingers signing words.

“guys look. she’s trying to say something.”

“what is she saying?”

but before you could finish the camera was turning off, and they lost you on the darkness.

along the lines, he knew what you were tying to say.

‘it’s not your fault.’

the next time you woke up a murder had taken place. and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault. you couldn’t save them. they were slaughtered because of you… and he had left you there with the screen on for you to see as he slaughtered them.

“tobias?” you inquired as the man next to you fumbled with your shirt and the leather belt on your arm.

“yeah. sorry i had to leave for awhile.” he muttered.

“you can leave again and you can take me with you.” you offered, watching him prepare another shot of heroin. your mind was still scattered due to the last one.

“my father would be angry.”

“not if he can’t find us.”

“he always finds me.” he sighed. it was as if he had been sentenced to a slow painful death. a fate he couldn’t scape.

“if you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us.” you promised.

“we can’t be saved…” he said as he looked at the needle, slightly flicking it with his finger.

“we can. we can, i promise. if you tell me where we are, i’ll save us both.”

“listen to me.” he cut you off. “it’s not worth fighting. tell me it doesn’t make it better.” he said pointing at the needle. you sobbed as he punctured your skin once again, making your consciousness start to slip.

“we can be saved. we can be saved…” you promised yourself as you felt the drug taking effect.

in the unsub’s screens suddenly pops up a red window saying that the video of the last murder he had uploaded was a virus “no!!!” you knew it had to be garcia to try and trace his IP. “they’re trying to silence my message.” gritted raphael.

“i can’t control what they do, i’m not with them. i’m with you.” you slurred.

“really?” he scoffed, clicking on the keyboard to pull out of his video an image of gideon. his voice filled your senses. he was calling out your name.

“if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this. you understand me? he’s perverting god to justify murder. you’re stronger than him. he cannot break you.”

“you think you can defy me?” he inquired to you after turning of the screens.

“i don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“you’re a liar!” he suddenly took your arm, pulling up your sleeve to show the marks of the multiple needles that had breached your skin and his face changed. it was charles. “you’re pitiful. just like my son.” you sobbed as he turned on the camera back up. “this ends now. confess your sins.” he ordered with a new smack to your face. your team was watching through the other side of the screen.

“we need to find her.” reid said. “we need to find her now!!”

“i haven’t done anything.” you cried, to what he gave you a harsh punch, splitting your lip. “tobias help me!” you begged to the man incarcerated in his own body.

“he can’t help you. he’s weak. confess!”

“tobias…” you whimpered as he slapped you across the face.

“confess your sins…” he ordered as he tugged on your hair, making you look at him.

“no…” you shook your head, all breath leaving your lungs as he pushed you down onto the floor. you started gasping for air, your body convulsing due to the drug intake and the poor oxygen that was getting into your lungs.

“oh my god he’s killing her!”penelope sobbed, the whole team in shock, spencer’s soul withering. it was his fault. your blood was on his hands. and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

he saw your eyes close. your chest stop rising. and he swore his own heart had stopped just at the same time yours had.

“she’s dead. she’s dead.” she muttered, her hands on her hair.

“and that’s the devil vacating your body…” the man said to you as he watched your life leave your body.

spencer could almost feel it himself. your body losing warmth, your limbs becoming stiff.

hankel disappeared from the screen a couple of minutes as morgan took his shoulders.

“i killed her morgan. i let him take her away and now she’s dead. it’s my fault that she’s dead…”

“spencer.”

“i killer her…” his eyes seemed empty. “she sacrificed herself for me. i could have saved her, i could have…”

“guys!!” garcia called for them at the sight of what it seemed to be tobias giving you cpr. spencer clenched his fists on the chair’s back, begging, praying for you to breath again.

oh god, please, please don’t let it be the end…

relief was short for the feeling that succumbed his body when he saw you cough.

in your dizziness you caught a glimpse of what it seemed to be the stone of a grave.

“whoa…” garcia sighed, and spence almost fell on his butt if morgan weren’t holding him.

“wait when was the video of the last murder posted?” prentiss asked, suddenly and urgently remembering something.

“9:23” garcia responded.

“and what was the time of death?”

“the 911 call came in at 9:04 and the murder must have been moments later.” hotch answered.

“that’s only a 19-minute difference.” jj said.

“how long would it take to post the MPEG?” morgan inquired.

“two, three minutes.” garcia said.

“well, let’s call it two. you figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area. that means hankel has to be within a 17-mile radius of the crime scene.” morgan realized.

“garcia, can we see it on a map?” hotch asked.

“yeah.” she nodded, circling the area described.

“call farraday. i want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” gideon ordered.

“you came back to life…” raphael talked to you as you took your breath.

“raphael…”

“there can only be one of two reasons.” he wondered.

“i was given cpr.” you weakly tried to joke, more for yourself than anything, but he ignored you.

“there are no accidents. how many members are on your team?” he inquired.

“without me… seven.” you said.

“the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. the first sounded and there followed hail and fire mixed with blood, and they were thrown to earth.” he recited.

“he thinks it’s revelation. the seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” hotch muttered.

“tell me who you serve.” raphael ordered.

“i serve you.” you responded, no thoughts in your head. you were playing chess with the devil himself and you had the make him belief he was winning… for now.

“then choose one to die.”

“what?”

“your team members. there must be a real devil in between you disguised as an angel. choose to die.”

“kill me.” you weakly offered, but he shook his head.

“you came back to life. you mustn’t be the devil.”

“i lied.”

“your team has seven other members. tell me who dies.”

“no.” you shook your head, and watched him as he took out of his pocket a gun, turning the cylinder of the gun to later on point at your head.

“choose and prove you’ll do god’s will.”

“no.” the trigger clicks. and you’re still here. the gun cocks again.

second round.

“choose.”

“i won’t do it.” the trigger clicks once again, just as the gun cocks.

“life is a choice.”

“no.”

once again.

“choose.” you hesitate, thinking, until your lips

part and you speak.

“i choose spencer reid.” the team freezes. “he’s a classic narcissist. he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. i despise him.” you said. “genesis 23:4. ‘let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense.’ “

spencer after hearing you quickly left the room, just as raphael cocked the gun and fired the bullet that would have blown your brains out on the wall. you shiver.

“he’s the devil you want.”

you watch him take another bullet and put it in the cylinder. “for god’s will.”

the team follows spencer onto the kitchen’s table. he’s got a bible in between his hands. “i’m not a narcissist.” gideon sighs.

“come on. look, you can’t take anything from that. she’s not on her right mind, reid.”

“that’s not what i’m saying. stop. okay, everybody right now, what’s my worst quality?” they all fell silent. “okay.” his lips tugged in this thin line be always managed to do. “maybe i’m a little bit narcissistic. but i’ve never put myself above the team. cause i don’t. ever. y/n and i argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and she knew that i would remember that. and she also quoted generis 23:4. read it.” he babbled before giving the bible to jj.

“ ‘i am a stranger and a sojourner with you, give me property for a burial place among you that i may bury my dead out of sight.’”

“she wouldn’t get it wrong unless it was on purpose. i know that.” reid said. “she’s a genius.”

“she’s in a cemetery.” morgan said and they quickly went back in their steps.

“i don’t see a cemetery.” prentiss said looking at the screen once the whole team was back with penelope.

“call up the first time we saw her.” gideon asked the blonde, who put on the video of you, in which you said ; ‘i won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.’

“check to see if there are any reposts of poaching in the last couple of days.” hotch said.

“okay…” penelope typed. “a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”

“where are we talking?” morgan asked. the screen focused on an even littler portion of map in walton.

“what’s that patch of green there?” jj inquired, and garcia focused on marshall parish.

“marshall parish. i think it’s an old plantation.” hotch wondered.

“wait. tobias wrote in his journals about ‘staying clean’ and ‘keeping away from marshall’” emily pointed out.

“guys. there’s a cemetery on the grounds.” penelope said.

you slurped up as much water as you could, your eyes meeting his face.

“tobias? is that you?” you inquired.

“yeah.” he nodded, giving you more to drink, which you gladly took.

“thank you.” you breathlessly said. “you saved my life.”

“i’m sorry.”

“why?”

“he’ll win in the end.” he muttered, putting aside the glass of water.

“tobias, i need to know something. it’s important. are we in a cemetery?”

he nodded. “i used to come here to get high.”

“i was right.” you smiled to yourself as he got you ready for another shot of heroin.

“no one bothers you here. i never told anyone about it.” he said as he buried the needle on your skin and pressed. he let you be as the drug took its effect on your body, his personality shifting once again.

“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” you sobbed, your mind dizzy. every time you closed your eyes, there he was. with his brown caramel curls, hazel eyes and pretty smile. you only wish he had given you one before you’d die…

“why are you sorry, girl?” raphael inquired you and you cried.

“i didn’t notice. i couldn’t have. he was right in front of me, and i… i… i pushed him away. i couldn’t help it.”

“is that a confession?”

you nodded, sniffling. “i confess.”

“being sorry won’t save you now, girl.”he walked towards you and took away your bounds. “grab a shovel.”

you followed his orders, and let him lead the way towards a part of the cemetery, where he pushed you to your knees and ordered you to start digging.

“i ought to bury you alive in there. give you time to think about what you’ve done.”

“i know what i’ve done…”

“don’t talk back to me!” he kicked you harsh in your side, and if your rib wasn’t broken before, you were sure that it was now. “dig.” you sobbed in between gasps of air, complying. “dig faster!”

“i’m not strong enough.” you muttered in a frail voice.

“you’re all weak.” he scoffed, taking off his jacket. your eyes caught lights behind him. it was your team. “get out of there.” he looked at where you were looking, and once he had turned, you grabbed the jacket he had tossed onto the ground and took ahold of his gun, pointing it at him. he pointed at you with his knife. “only one bullet in that gun, girl. you better not miss.” he growled as he stepped closer and you fired it. you thanked god as the bullet hit his chest. you crawled towards him once his body had hit the ground, tossing away his knife as he looked at you. “you killed him…” it was no longer his father.

“tobias?”

“there she is!”hotch exclaimed.

“do you think i’ll get to see my mom again?” he inquired you.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered, watching the light leave his eyes.

you heard spencer calling your name, feeling his warm arms caging you against his chest and pulling you away from tobias. “you’re alright. you’re alright…” he muttered, his hand on your messy locks, holding you close. you’d never felt safe in your life. until now.

“i knew you’d understand…” you smiled, your body weak and falling limp against his. “you’re a genius, spencer…” you somehow managed to babble as your eyes started to close.

“hey, come on, stay with me. stay with me y/n, please…”you could muster out his soft voice calling out for you, shaking you. “call the medics! someone please call the medics!!!!”

a/n; this took so long to write…😫 but i’m so happy with it! finally some angst!!<33

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