#i just? like. not to mention. GIDEONS LAST WORDS WERE 'you have no idea what you've done'

[avis-writeshq]

01 — better than revenge

summary: “she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn warnings: fluff, angst with a happy ending, Lila is a real piece of work here, VERY CANON COMPLIANT, Spencer’s a bit of an ass :( wc: 10.4k a/n: special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading MWAH SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey kid, wheels up in thirty.” Derek nods towards you, dropping a case file on your desk. 

You raise an eyebrow, flicking open the case file to the first page. A small laugh of disbelief leaves your lips. “Ooh, Los Angeles, media capital of the world. What’s the occasion?”

“Three murders, all shot in the head executional style.” 

Your face falls into a grimace as you grab your go-bag and tuck the file under your arm, following the rest of the team to the jet. “Spence and Gideon are there already, right? Talk about timing.”

Elle can’t help but grin at your words, slinking an arm over your shoulder. “Looks like you’ll see loverboy a lot sooner than you think.”

A shriek of betrayal leaves your lips as you throw her arm off of you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t,” JJ all but cackles as she boards the plane, grinning the entire way. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” you grumble, dropping your things on one of the seats in the jet. “Seriously, I mean it. I know how to get away with murder.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze that of a disappointed yet amused father. “Not the brightest thing to say while you’re in a room full of FBI agents.”

Elle lets out a ‘hah!’ as she sits across from you, crossing one leg over the other as she grins. “Get comfortable, buttercup, six hour flight and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Assholes.” You roll your eyes teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to your case files. “And it’s not like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” Elle snickers, “you’re just friends.”

You throw a pen at her and it bounces off her leg harmlessly. “I can smell the sarcasm.”

“You’ll be smelling more of it,” Derek laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sit tight, kid, we’re in for a long flight.”

Once everyone was settled and the jet was high in the air, the team began to look through the files with Garcia on speaker as usual. 

“First two victims, Wally Melman and Chloe Harris,” You recite dutifully, glancing over the grotesque crime scene images. “Seems like they were both killed in public places.”

“Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica which she did every morning, and Wally was killed outside of a massage parlour,” JJ reiterates, sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand. 

“In Culver City,” Derek adds. 

“Which he went to every Tuesday,” Elle continues.

Derek looks to the rest of the team, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, if he knows their schedules, maybe that means he follows his victims for a while.”

“And not a single witness. So we know this UnSub can blend in,” Hotch mutters. “Regardless of the location, he has the ability to hide in plain sight.”

“So, he’s meticulous.” Elle nods, her eyes drifting from Hotch to the case file. 

“The media is calling Natalie Ryan’s murder the biggest celebrity homicide since Sharon Tate,” JJ adds, looking through the images of the newspaper clippings that were sent to her laptop.

“Great,” You muse, although frustration is clear in your voice. “What does that mean for us?”

Hotch lets out a sigh. “That everybody will be watching.”

***

“This guy is an assassin?” Detective Kim asks with disbelief as the rest of the team reiterates their thoughts once they were in the police department. 

“When you look at the victimology, there’s no obvious links,” Morgan points out. “All the kills were clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair as you reference the case files. “There’s absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. Labs have found zero DNA, no manifestation of psychosexual release, and from what we can tell there’s no detectable signature of any kind. These kills are straight forward, almost like he’s on a mission.”

“Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what’s present at the scene but also what’s absent,” Gideon says to Detective Kim.

“From all the evidence that we’ve gathered, we believe you’re looking for a Type Four Assassin,” Elle explains.

“Type Four?” 

Spencer immediately jumps in to explain, gesticulating throughout his explanation. “Type One’s are political assassins like John Wilkes Booth. Type Two’s are egocentrics looking for simple recognition.”

“Type Three’s are psychopaths,” Hotch continues, “cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. Type Four, our UnSub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional.”

“The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we’ll get to finding the UnSub,” Reid points out. 

Everyone is left to their own thoughts and you look over to Spencer, a soft grin on your face. “How was your father-son bonding time?”

Spencer gives you a pointed look, but a soft laugh leaves his lips. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Out of everyone on the team, Gideon chose you to present a talk about behavioural analysis and profiling to the LAPD. You love conferences. C’mon, give me something!” You nudge his shoulder gently. 

“We uh.. we went to an art gallery the other day. We met a movie star, so that was cool…” his cheeks are dusted with a soft pink as he talks and your curiosity only increases. 

“A movie star, huh? Look at you, mingling with the high and mighty.” You poke his cheek with a laugh. “Tell me about them.”

He flushes at the contact, clearing his throat. “Um… her name is Lila Archer. Have you heard of her? She’s–”

“Reid, (L/N), we’re meeting with someone,” Derek cuts in, nodding towards the both of you.

You blink in confusion as you follow him to another room. “Suspect?”

“Someone received a note,” Derek says quickly, glancing over at the note in Elle’s hands. “On a newspaper clipping of the latest murder.”

“Lila?”

A blonde woman was sitting in the next room over, her legs crossed over as she waits. Her eyes light up in recognition and she stands up. You can’t help but be impressed as you give her a quick once over. She’s gorgeous, exactly what you expect from a famous movie star. 

“I’m Agent (L/N),” You say gently, moving from your spot next to Spencer and holding your hand out. “This is Agent Morgan and I’m assuming you already know Doctor Reid. I understand that you received a note this morning?”

She wearily shakes your hand, her blue eyes flitting between you and Reid. “Yeah.”

“We just have a few questions to ask. We know that these things are sensitive, but we promise we’ll try to make the situation as easy as possible for you.” You shoot her a kind smile, excusing her weariness for fear or anxiety. “Is that alright?”

“Sure.” She respond curtly, shooting a smile towards Spencer before walking past you.

“Uh… okay?” You let out a little laugh in confusion and Derek raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that about?” He asks, frowning.

You shrug your shoulders, watching as Spencer leads her to an empty desk. “Trust me, I have no idea. Maybe she’s just nervous and wants to talk to a familiar face.”

Derek hums in thought. “Maybe. But usually victims like this are more willing to speak to someone of the same gender. It’s strange that she was so direct to you.”

“She’s been through a traumatic experience. If I got a newspaper clipping with a message written in blood, I probably wouldn’t be too thrilled meeting new people either,” You defend, pursing your lips. “She’s probably just… scared, right?”

He doesn’t respond, moving to follow Spencer and Lila further into the police department. A few questions were asks about her relationship with the other victims, only to find that she was in fact the connection between the other victims. Wally Melman was a producer who Lila met with a few times to discuss a role, only for him to cast Natalie Ryan instead. Chloe Harris looked an awful lot like Lila, so it was likely that the UnSub got rid of her in order to ‘ice-out’ the competition. 

“(L/N), may I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asks quickly, waving you over. 

You blink in confusion but nod, walking over to where he stands by the desk. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to try and get as much information from Lila as possible.” He gestures to where Lila sits in one of the victim waiting rooms. “This is your area of expertise. Try and find out if there’s any distinct information that she’s given to anyone so that we can track the UnSub.”

“Got it.” You offer a smile, fixing your shirt as you agree. “I’ll update you if I get any new information.”

You make your way over to where Lila was sitting, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Hey, Lila. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She glances over you for a second, looking you up and down before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Where’s Spencer?”

Your brows furrow at his words. “Doctor Reid…? He’s currently going through the timeline of events with our colleagues. In the meantime, I was hoping to ask a few questions, maybe shed some light on the entire situation.”

She raises an eyebrow before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright…” you clear your throat, taking a seat across from her. “You mentioned that you receive a bowl of red anemones on the seventh of every month. Do you mind… telling me why you like those flowers so much?”

She shrugs dismissively, running a hand through her blonde hair. “They’re pretty. I like the colour.”

You nod slowly, writing that down in your notes. “Well that’s understandable; they’re very beautiful flowers. But they’re a little uncommon as a favourite flower, don’t you think? If you like the colour, a more common favourite flower would be poppies or roses… are you sure there isn’t another reason? The meaning behind red anemones is forsaken love and death… does that intrigue you at all?”

She scoffs, “are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, “I apologise if it comes off that way. I’m just trying to find out as much as possible about the entire situation. For all we know, those flowers could have been sent by the UnSub.”

A short silence lulls in the room as well as an awkward tension. So, you try to take things from another angle. 

“I love hydrangeas,” you say gently, a small smile on your lips. “I like the way they’re always bunched together and the colours are beautiful. Only a few people know that I like them though. My close friend and colleagues, my family… do you remember telling anyone about your favourite flower?”

She’s quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Your face falls and you press a little more. “Are you sure you don’t remember? Maybe… maybe your manager, or a friend of yours?”

“I said ‘I don’t know’, okay?” She snaps, her hands balling into fists as she glares at you. “God, it’s not that hard to understand.”

You lean back in your chair, your gaze hardening. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but any information–”

“I don’t have any information!” Lila huffs, her hands placed in her lap. “Are you stupid or something?”

“The likelihood of these people being murdered because of you is incredibly high,” You say sharply, shutting your notebook. “If you’re withholding information from us it could prove detrimental to the investigation. I’m only trying to do my job. Asking you questions is part of my job.”

Her lips twitch at your words and she scowls. “I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Not remembering and not knowing are two different things, Ms Archer.” You place your card on the table. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

You get up from your seat, heading to the door, only to see that it was wide open with Derek and Spencer standing at the doorway. In seconds, Lila’s gaze softens and she runs out of the room, sniffling as she does. Your gaze follows her as she runs out of the police station, a look of disbelief on your features.

“What the…”

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Spencer demands, a frown on his face. 

You gape at his words. “What are you–”

He cuts you off, running after Lila. Derek raises an eyebrow in their direction before turning to you. 

“You okay, pretty girl?” Derek asks gently, patting your shoulder. 

“Honestly? I have no idea,” You confess quietly, biting your lip. “I’ve never seen him get so…”

“Upset? Angry?” he finishes, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You and me both. Look, kid, it’s not your fault. She was clearly being dismissive of your questions and she needed a reality check.”

“It’s not like I’ve never spoken that way when interrogating someone before,” You point out, brows furrowed in frustration. “Even then, Spencer has never had an issue with it. I just– I don’t understand what’s got him so worked up.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “You’re a profiler. Isn’t it obvious?”

You pause for a moment, thinking through their interaction. “He has a crush on her, doesn’t he? He likes her. Of course he does. Brilliant, now he’s involved.”

Derek pats you on the back sympathetically. “Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

Despite your original hesitancy, Hotch asked you personally to go with the others, meaning that you had no right to refuse. Well, you could, but that would mean throwing Elle under the bus and she would be much more helpful at the precinct than on set. So, before you could fake being sick and bail the investigation, you,  Derek, and Spencer went to check out the set of Lila’s movie, hoping to better observe her interactions with her costars and the staff. 

The inside of Lila’s small trailer is hot. Incredibly hot but relatively empty. As you look around, you gather that she’s either a minimalist or just didn’t have to spend a lot time in the trailer at all. Lila sits in front of the little group, wearing a robe to cover her costume: a cyan sequinned bikini set that she looked absolutely criminal in. Her hair has been styled in a classic blowout and you wonder how much time it took to get it to look so effortless.

“I’m not stopping my life,” she says, her voice almost stern as she steps out of the trailer and back onto the set.

You purse your lips as you glance at the paper in the plastic pocket, now labelled as ‘evidence’. Apparently it was taped up to the door of her trailer. Your eyes shift to Spencer who’s gaze doesn’t leave the door that Lila just walked out of for much longer than necessary. Neither of you have spoken since yesterday’s incident.

You hum thoughtfully, as you pull out your notebook, glancing at the notes you’ve been making. “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is talk to the people on set. Maybe they saw something. I’ll see if I can find out who has access to Lila’s trailer.”

Spencer nods in your direction. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

One of your eyebrows quirk up. “Okay…? Why do you sound so surprised?”

He flushes under your scrutiny, clearing his throat as the three of you begin to walk out of the trailer and towards the set. “I’m not! I– I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”

“You didn’t seem to think that yesterday,” You respond lightly, your tone petty and passive aggressive, gaze flickering between the cameras and lights on set. 

Derek coughs awkwardly before excusing himself and entering further into the set leaving you and Spencer alone outside by a vending machine. Spencer falters at your words and he runs a hand through his hair. The harsh Los Angeles sun beats down against your skin and you fiddle with the notebook in your hands. In turn, he fixes up his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow, giving you a clear view of his forearms and large hands. 

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t– I was out of line.”

“You were,” You agree, your gaze shifting between the chilled bottled drinks in the vending machine and him. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

A boyish grin grows on his face and he nods, pulling out his wallet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, awesome. Iced coffee?”

“You know me so well,” you respond with an equally large smile, poking his cheek. “Thank you!”

He presses a few buttons, grabbing a Cola for himself. You can’t help but laugh, giving him a pointed look. He quickly moves to defend himself, “It’s a hot day, okay? An exception.”

“An exception,” You repeat, trying to hide your smile as you crack open the lid of your drink and take a sip. “What happened to ‘Cola has 50 grams of sugar in it. That’s the equivalent of eating two full bars of milk chocolate’?”

He pouts at your words, opening his drink and you watch as a few bubbles rise to the top of the bottle. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing in content. “Shut up.”

You laugh again once you officially enter the set, nudging Spencer with your arm teasingly. He nudges you back, rolling his eyes and poking your cheek. You retaliate by doing the same, swinging your drink as you walk. 

Before you could do or say anything else, Derek taps your shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to cross reference answers,” Derek dismisses. 

“Let me pull up my list,” You respond helpfully, grabbing your notebook. “Hey, Spence, do you mind canvassing the rest of the crew? See if anyone pays any special attention on Lila?”

He nods at your words, moving towards Lila, sipping on his drink. In the meantime, you turn towards Derek, a curious look on your face. 

“Little Miss Madonna has been glaring at you since the moment you entered the set,” Morgan says quietly, his gaze flitting to where Lila was making coffee. 

You practically snap your neck as you look up in her direction, watching as she quickly fumbles to make herself a cup of something. You turn away and you could practically feel her gaze burning against your scalp. A frown makes its way onto your face and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance over to where she and Spencer were talking, blanching when you watch as she takes a swig of his Cola.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You hear her ask as she drinks and Spencer hurriedly shakes his head.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips and Derek nudges you with a look that reads ‘behave.’ You lift your hands in surrender and follow him over to where Spencer now stands by himself, Lila gone to talk to some other staff member.

“An exception, huh?” You ask Spencer, referring to his aversion to germs and sharing food. Your tone is mostly teasing despite the underlying bitterness beneath it. 

“Shut up.” He mutters quietly, cheeks hot from embarrassment of being caught.

Derek snorts, clapping his shoulder before moving on.

***

The next day, you were going over the evidence that was provided by the LAPD. Considering that it was a relatively young case, there weren’t copious amounts of evidence, meaning that there were still untied strings to go through. The entire situation proved more difficult than necessary; no one seemed to notice anything  amiss when it came to Lila and her relationships, and considering that the actress wasn’t very forthcoming with the information she knew, you were hitting dead-end after dead-end. 

Although geographical profiling was more of Spencer’s expertise than yours, you figured it wouldn’t do anyone harm by triangulating the previous three murders. He was standing beside you, his presence not unwelcome as he guides you step by step on how to plot an understandable and accurate profile. Hotch had asked him to coach you through the entire situation and explain his point of view, as well as his thought process when it came to geographical profiling. With a comfort zone now clearly expressed, you were discussing probable suspects on the phone with Garcia.

“Will Hunter… currently the town hermit, previous criminal record of armed battery and robbery,” Garcia recites, and you pull up his file.

“Mm… maybe? No, I don’t think so. His crimes don’t match the UnSub’s profile. He seems to be messier, uh, tending to use bats and knives than a clean shot to the head. And the profile suggests that the UnSub is able to blend in with the crowd.” You hum in thought, turning to Spencer.

“Hermits like Will Hunter wouldn’t be able to do that,” He explains to Garcia, putting his file into the ‘unlikely’ folder.

Garcia sighs in frustration and you can hear her furiously type away on her computer. “How about–”

“Hold that thought,” Elle says quickly, cutting Penelope off apologetically. “(Y/N), did you know Lila’s here?”

You blink in confusion, slowly shaking your head no. “She’s here? I didn’t get any calls from her.”

Elle shrugs at your words. “She looks like she’s going to burn a hole through your head.”

Your brows furrow and your gaze shifts to the blonde woman through the office window. She has her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, before her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being caught. Spencer follows your gaze, his face lighting up at the sight of the actress. It’s almost as if he has selective hearing when it comes to his celebrity crush, clearly not hearing the part where Elle points out that Lila has been glaring at you the entire time.

“Can we talk outside?” You ask Elle quickly, getting up from your seat, not taking no for an answer.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something before he shuts it, watching as you drag your other co-worker out of the room. Your attention shifts between Lila and Elle, your brows furrowing. 

“What is it?” You ask, your back turned towards the actress. “Why is she here?”

“She gave me a list of people who know what her favourite flower is,” Elle says quietly.

Your ears go red at her words, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Excuse me?”

“She called me yesterday,” she explains, handing you the list of people. “She said that she remembers who they were and came in today to give me a list of people.”

You scoff in disbelief, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I gave her my card.”

“She called and asked for me.” 

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so suddenly she can remember everything when she talks to you, but nothing when she talks to me? She’s not very slick.”

The door behind you opens, revealing Spencer who has been listening in the entire time. His jaw is clenched and a frown is etched upon his features as he looks at you accusingly. 

“Maybe she just didn’t remember,” he points out harshly as you and Elle re-enter the room.

An incredulous look makes its way into your face. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t remember, and now she does,” Spencer says, and from the corner of your eye you watch Elle slowly leave the room once more. The door closes with a soft click.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she went to Elle and not to me,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even and your words clear. You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down.

Spencer scowls at you. “Maybe she has every right to go to Elle after you snapped at her the first time you tried to talk to her.”

“Are you– are you being serious right now?” A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you glare up at him. “Look, Reid, I’m sorry that I’m not her biggest fan and that I don’t kiss the ground she walks on, but I was doing my job. A job that I believe I am quite good at. It’s not like speaking harshly is unheard of when it comes to the retrieval of information.”

He flinches when you call him by his last name but he stands his ground. “If you were so good at your job, you wouldn’t have to speak to her that way,” he argues, and you can see the vein in his forehead begin to protrude.

His words sting and bite you and suddenly you feel your resolve snapping. “You know what?” The words are slow and deliberate as they leave your lips, and you jab a finger against his chest. “I get that you have a crush on her and that you’re finally going through puberty but that does not mean that you can ignore the job you are currently on.”

He swallows thickly and he opens his mouth to retaliate but you push your finger against his chest once more.

“I am not finished.” Your voice is low with frustration and annoyance as you scowl, glaring up at him. “I don’t care who you’re attracted to or who you want to sleep with. I don’t give a damn if that someone is victim in the investigation because it’s not my problem. I do, however, have a problem when you undermine my ability to do my job and do nothing to fix it.

The worst part is the fact that you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be supportive and helpful and– and– and understanding.” Your mouth is moving quicker than your brain can register and you’re stumbling over your words as you snap at him. “I’m supposed to be able to go to you if I’m going through something. I should be able to talk to you if someone or something is bothering me, but now I’m just afraid that you’ll call me crazy and then criticise me all over again.”

His face falls and he looks at you like a kicked puppy as the words slowly sink in. He reaches out to you, his hazel eyes searching your face but the only emotion that you’re showing is anger. You push his hand away, the frown set on your eyebrows. It’s only then when you realise that Garcia has been listening into the conversation the entire time, your heart lurching to a stop when you hear her cough on the other side of the line.

“Um… is now a bad time to say that I didn’t get any other hits for the profile?” She asks tentatively through the speaker, and you feel your face burning.

“I need air,” you announce to no one in particular, before grabbing your files and storming out of the room.

Elle catches your arm on the way out, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “(Y/N)-“

“Hey. Sorry.” You bite your lip, loosening the grip you have on your papers. “Where’s Hotch?”

“With Derek and Gideon,” she says gently. “Lila got another note and we’re going to check on her manager. Do you want to come with?”

You exhale before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay.” She squeezes your arm gently, her eyes flitting between you and Spencer who was inside the conference room, pacing back and forth. “Is… everything alright?”

“Honestly? No.” You offer her a wry smile, shoving your files into your bag. “But it’s fine.”

She chuckles a little in disbelief, leading you to the black SUVs outside. Derek and Gideon were already there, waiting patiently for the two of you while Hotch has already left in another SUV. Apparently the ‘no profiling each other’ rule was thrown out the window as soon as they saw the state you were in, and Derek quickly makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N), are you–”

“I’m fine,” you snap, before closing your eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. “Sorry, Morgan. I’m okay, just had an argument with Reid.”

At that, his eyebrows shoot upwards. “Since when did you call him ‘Reid’? And what do you mean you had a fight with him? He literally can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah, that was before a Miss Archer walked into the room,” you mutter bitterly. “Shot a literal arrow through his heart. She put her name to good use. I never stood a chance.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Elle says, climbing into the SUV. You follow closely behind and she continues. “He’s just confused right now.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I really doubt that.”

Gideon starts the car, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “You’re a profiler. What do you really think?”

The words die at your tongue and you deflate into the seat of the car. You hate to admit it, but Gideon is right. You should be able to figure out exactly what Spencer is thinking. After all, he’s your best friend– you shouldn’t have to be worrying about guessing games when it comes to him.

Hotch is the first to arrive at the manager’s office, watching as your group pull up in front of the building. Once everyone clambours out of the car, they enter the building, a sigh of relief leaving them as they enjoy the air conditioned lobby. With a flash of a badge, the receptionist is quick to tell you which floor and room number Michael was in.

“Floor 11, Room 03,” you mumble to yourself as you scribble it down in your notes.

The elevator ride is silent and you rock back and forth on your feet as the lift begins to rise. Your head is spinning with thoughts and regrets as you consider the harsh words that you spat at Spencer’s face less than an hour ago. You must not have been hiding your frustration well because Hotch finally says something. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, much like a father would when their child is having a tantrum. It’s fitting.

You shrug. “I will be.”

“Is it to do with Reid?” 

You cough awkwardly, glancing back at the notes in your hand. “That obvious?”

Derek snorts from behind you. “Yeah, a little.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with him,” Elle adds, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I am– I am not in love with him!” You all but shriek, shooting her a half hearted glare and you stutter out a response. “I mean, I– uh– I like him but–“

“You are a horrible liar,” Derek cackles and you groan. 

Hotch and Gideon watch amused at the interaction, and the latter finally pipes in.

“Profiling isn’t something you can just turn off,” he explains to you, his tone gentle. He reminds you of a grandfather giving advice to their youngest grandchild, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. He continues to speak, “it’s subconscious and it becomes a habit. The only time it stops is when you either need it most, or when you don’t want to see anything.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the eleventh floor and Michael’s office wasn’t far away. The writing on the frosted glass reads ‘1103, Michael Ryer & associates, talent management’ and Elle raps on the door.

“Hello?” 

“Mr Ryer?” Gideon calls.

She knocks a few times again before opening the door entirely. “Michael–”

You’re met with Michael Ryer, dead in his arm chair and shot to the head, just like all the other victims. Despite having faced these circumstances before, you still feel sick to the stomach as you stare at Michael’s lifeless body and soulless eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Up until now every victim was a person who could be perceived as a threat to Miss Archer,” Hotch comments as they enter the room, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, but Michael was a friend,” Elle says with a frown.

You look up from your notes. “He was a threat to the stalker.”

In less than twenty minutes, the LAPD dispatched forensics and evidence teams to the office. Lila and Spencer were on their way back to her house, deciding that it was best to deny the stalker access to her. You rifle through Michael’s belongings: his schedules, his files… everything until you come to one particular manila envelope. 

“Morgan, Elle, look at this,” you murmur, pulling the photos out of the envelope. “Pictures of Lila… nude.”

A flash of a grimace passes along Elle’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “He was probably paying someone to keep them out of the press.”

“The name on the file says Joe Martinez,” Derek mutters, turning the envelope over.

The name must have struck a chord, because Detective Kim’s head immediately snaps around to look at you. “Paparazzo?”

You blink. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I deal with him a lot,” Kim responds, his face stoic. 

“We should follow that lead,” You comment, tucking the photos back in the envelope and looking over at Detective Kim and Derek. “I’m ready to go when you are?”

After an okay from Hotch, you, Derek, and Detective Kim make your way over to the Joe Martinez’s place. After knocking on the door to his place multiple times, Derek decides to open it in the way he knows best: by kicking it down. You grip your gun, holding it out in front of you as you travel through the hallways. 

“Clear!” You yell out upon pushing another door open, seeing nobody inside.

“(Y/N), you need to check this out,” comes Morgan’s call, and you follow the direction of his voice

Pinned above a small desk are picture upon pictures of Lila Archer. When she has lunch, when she’s out with her friends… it’s almost as if this person has completely documented her life. It’s a little nerve wracking, knowing that someone could follow you and take photos without anyone even realising.

“Hey is that–” you pause, pulling a piece of paper off the wall. “This is Lila’s schedule.”

Derek blinks in surprise. “I’m guessing he’s not supposed to have that?”

“No,” Detective Kim responds, and your gaze shifts to the table.

“Hey, isn’t that–” you feel your heart practically stop as you see who’s in the photos. 

“That’s Reid,” Derek mutters.

Kim shifts through the photos. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he says, pulling out at least five or six print outs. “Is he a target now?”

Derek scoffs, throwing the photos on the table and pulling out his phone, making a beeline for the exit. “Not if I can help it.”

You and Detective Kim follow him out, making your way to the SUV. 

“Reid? Hey, it’s Morgan. Listen, you gotta watch your back over there, we just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez’s studio. It looks like he could be the UnSub.”

As he speaks you feel your heart pound in your ears. Your head is dizzy with fear and you’re following after Morgan who’s walking unbelievably quickly. 

“He has a ton of photos of Lila and Nathalie plus a call sheet for Lila’s show,” Derek continues, the speed of his walk not wavering. “(Y/N) and I are on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?”

You look down to shove your notes back into your bag when you hear it. The distinct vrooming of a motorcycle engine. You don’t think too much of it, only turning your head to look over your shoulder, your hand finding the handle of the car door. That’s all it takes for the motorcyclist to drive straight toward you and the others, pointing an arm out.

“Gun!” You manage to scream, just before the UnSub open fires, hitting Detective Kim. 

You dive behind the car, grimacing when your knee collided roughly against the pavement. By the time you manage to recover and grab your gun out of its holster, the UnSub is long gone. You stare as Morgan fires a couple shots before watching the motorcyclist ride off into the LA traffic,  and you turn to Detective Kim.

“You got hit. Where?” You ask, shoving your gun back into its holster.

He grunts in pain, his entire weight on the car as he groans out, “yeah, it’s fine. Just my shoulder.”

“Derek, call for help,” you order, pressing firmly at the wound with your hand to lessen the bleeding. He lets out a cry of pain and you wince. “Sorry, it’s bleeding a lot. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, no exit wound. Seeing as you’re not already dead, I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it might have busted your collarbone. You’re lucky if that’s the extent of the damage. The shoulder contains a bunch of important and major bloodlines, as well as nerve endings.”

Derek turns to you with a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“You spend four years with him, you’ll start to learn a few things,” you respond with a humourless laugh. You continue to press against Detective Kim’s wound, murmuring an apology. 

“You should talk to him,” Derek prompts.

You scoff, “we have a detective bleeding in front of us and the thing you’re worried about is my love life?”

“Isn’t the first rule of relieving pain through distraction?” He asks. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he quickly nods his head. “Okay, sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Detective Kim is hoisted into the ambulance. You cringe as you wash his blood off your hands, once, twice, then a third time to make sure everything is gone. Your shirt has a couple of blood spots and you can’t help but frown; you liked that shirt. At least the stain isn’t too big– just a few splotches here and there. 

“It’s a good thing you held the wound,” an EMT praises, working quickly to secure Kim’s shoulder. “He shattered his collarbone, but you seemed to have managed to control the bleeding.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have shouted a clear ‘I told you so’ to both Derek and Detective Kim, but you keep your mouth shut.

Hotch, Gideon, and Elle arrive moments later, speaking to Derek about the detective’s injuries. 

“You okay?” Elle asks gently, squeezing your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, wringing your hands together. “Just a little jumpy. I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get to her house,” Gideon mutters, glancing at the group. 

Without another moment to lose, you’re clambering into an SUV, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. Elle climbs into the passenger seat beside you, her brows knitted together in concern. She opens her mouth to say something but shuts it, watching as you start the car and speed off into the direction of Lila’s house. 

After slamming the door shut and gripping the gun firmly in the palm of your hand, you follow Derek through the back entry of the house. You weren’t even sure if it could even be counted as a ‘house’; the place looked like it had at least five bedrooms on both floors. Derek glances at you, signalling to be quiet, then another to keep your eyes on him. A quiet splashing in the pool alerts your attention, and despite his attempts of getting you to not look, you do. And as soon as you do, you really wish you hadn’t. 

You are met with the sight of Lila Archer in her bikini-clad glory, in the pool with Doctor Spencer Walter Reid. Doctor ‘pools are incredibly unhygienic, harbouring more than 50 million different types of bacteria’ Reid. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, you watch as their lips touch again and again, his hands cupping her face and her hands arms around his neck. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and his head spinning. This is wrong. He’s not supposed to being do this. His brain is short circuiting and it’s even worse when he considers all the germs that could be in this pool. His head spins with the names of viruses and bacteria that could be festering in the waters he was currently in, and then he remembers he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely the girl who was literally pressing her lips to his. 

He pulls away, stammering over responses. “We can’t– we shouldn’t. I’m a federal agent and you’re–”

Lila stares at him, amused, with her hands cupping his neck. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Spencer tries again, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. This is wrong. Unprofessional. Then his mind wanders to you and the nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to do something. 

“There are police out front,” Lila says, kissing him again before continuing, “there are coyotes out back.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer stutters out, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Her skin is cold from the summer night’s breeze, even more so considering how they’re submerged in disgusting chlorine-filled pool water. 

“This?” She presses her lips to his once more. “What’s this?”

“This isn’t–” he swallows thickly, his cheeks flared. “No, there’s this thing called transference–”

Lila pulls away, her stare drifting from his eyes to his lips as she asks, “you don’t like me?”

Spencer blanches at the question. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Lila repeats, more sure of herself now. “It’s because of her, right?”

He frowns at the insinuation. “‘Her’? Who’s ‘her’?”

“The other person on your team,” Lila says, her words bitter. “You like her don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry and he opens and closes it like a fish out of water. “What?”

“Let me change your mind,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his for the nth time. 

Spencer barely has time to react, his hands moving to the side of her face and he imagines that she’s you. But she’s not you and you would never kiss him in the middle of the pool. You would never pull him in by his tie and cut him off when he’s speaking. He pulls away. 

“Stop. Stop, Lila, I’m sorry, I have to– I have to tell you something.” His mind is blanking. Why is it that when he needs it, his brain shuts off?

“What?” Lila asks, her lips moving to his cheek and then to his jaw. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this before because I was a bit worried.” He’s screaming at himself in his head, kicking himself because ‘why the hell did he just say that?!’ Regardless of the way he wishes he could shut his mouth and run out of the pool, he continues, “I don’t know how to say it but I can’t not tell you.”

“What is it?” She finally pulls away and Spencer lets out a breath of relief.

The relief is short lived because he starts to blab, “Your manager, Michael–”

“What?”

“Gideon went to check on him but he got there too late.” Spencer thinks he’s going to hurl, his mind running a million times an hour and screaming, ‘No you idiot! No, no, no! Out of all the things you could say–’

Lila scrambles out of the pool, clearly distraught, and he reaches out to touch her arm… only to be swatted away with her sobbing and telling him not to touch her. He figures he deserves that and follows out of the pool after her. 

“How could you– how could you not tell me?” Lila demands, her tears mixing with the pool water already on her face. 

“I was afraid you’d be upset,” Spencer says lamely, water dripping from his trousers and he just wants a towel. 

“You– you knew what you knew and… how could you not…?” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating and she looks at him before looking away. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Lila retreats into her house, shutting the glass sliding door behind her and Spencer can only watch as she throws a pillow at the wall before going up the stairs to her room. He stands there, in the cold, dripping wet from the pool water and he wipes his face with his hand. His gun sits on the table, damp, and he has the urge to scream. Before he could do something exceedingly stupid, the sound of footsteps alert him and he spins around. 

“Elle?”

“We found him in the bushes,” she says to Spencer, nodding to the guy being cuffed by Derek. 

“I told her she should cut those.” He says dismissively, wiping his gun with a towel. He looks at her and then at you. He swallows thickly, noticing the way your eyes look him up and down, the disapproval oozing in your stare. “I– uh– I fell in.”

“Yeah,” you respond, holding the camera up and a sarcastic smile blossoms on your face. “I’m sure there are plenty of photos of it.”

He sighs, “(Y/N)–”

“Hey, stop shoving me, man!” Joe snaps as Derek pushes him to walk forward.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins.”

You watch as Joe’s face comically contorts from annoyance to confusion as he jumps to defend himself. “Murder? What? Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

“Just shut up with the ‘whoa’. We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer’s daily schedule on your desk. You’ve been stalking her.”

“Look, guy, hold up. Every paparazzi’s a celebrity stalker,” Joe says and the rest of the group turn to look at him incredulously. He continues to speak undeterred. “If you don’t stalk them, you don’t get the shot, and if you don’t get the shot, you don’t sell no pictures.”

“Yeah, well this one’s gonna cost you,” you hum, holding the camera in your hands and ripping the film out despite his yells of defiance.

Derek steps forward, pushing Joe to keep him walking. “Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Wh– I’m still being locked up?”

“That’s right, at the very least you’re trespassing.”

Elle and Derek walk Joe out of the premises, and you push the pulverised film against Spencer’s chest. He grips it in his hands, a soft ���oof’ leaving his lips at the contact. 

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, albeit a little bitterly, as you turn to follow the rest of your team out.

“(Y/N), listen, it didn’t mean anything,” he says softly, squeezing the film in his fist tightly while the other hand reaches out to you. 

You roll your eyes, opening up the sliding door. “I told you, Reid, I don’t care who you sleep with.”

He splutters a little, pushing his hair away from his face. “We didn’t– I didn’t– we didn’t sleep together, you know that.”

“Even more reason why I shouldn’t care.”

His hand grips onto your shoulder, turning you around so that you’re facing him. “But you do. ‘Shouldn’t’? You care. You clearly obviously care, (Y/N).”

“I don’t,” you deny, pushing his hand away. “Reid–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“–it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He grabs onto your arm, stopping your retreat. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am not ‘being like’ anything!”

“(Y/N).”

“Doctor, this is highly unprofessional.”

He has to stop the frustrated groan that was moments away from leaving his lips as he stares at you. His eyes ghost over your frame, stopping directly at the dark red splotches on your shirt.

“What happened?” He demands, taking a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

“Detective Kim’s.”

“What– were you shot at?” 

His hands fly to your face, trembling and cold, and you would have thought it was romantic if he didn’t do the exact same thing less than twenty minutes ago with another girl. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss quietly. 

“Don’t say that.”

“God, you act as if we’re dating or something!” You snap, pulling away from him. 

He stops short, his cheeks and ears reddening at your words. His mind goes blank and suddenly he feels very warm at the idea. Dating you? Every moment he had with Lila in that pool is nothing compared to the idea of dating you.

He watches as you roll your eyes before tugging your arm out of his grip. He wants to cry out again, to say something, but his head just seems to repeat the words ‘we’re dating’ over and over again. 

“Just forget it, Reid.” You look to the house and your gaze grows steely once more. “Your girlfriend is calling.”

*** 

“I want to try and talk to some of Lila’s close friends,” you say to the others after getting off the phone with Garcia. “According to Penelope, there’s a girl named Maggie Lowe on the list that Lila gave us and they’ve known each other since college. Apparently, they spent a lot of time together and Lila helped her get a job.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elle says instantly, climbing into the car. “Why Maggie?”

You start the ignition, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road, following the GPS directions. “They spend almost all of their time together. I mean, she must have noticed something off, you know?”

Elle nods slowly in understanding. “She knows about the red anemones, right?”

“Yeah. And she was the one who found the note taped to the door.” You pause, thinking through the evidence again. “Her apartment is right in the middle of the comfort zone.”

“You think she could be the UnSub?”

“It all seems too convenient. But then again, we didn’t profile the stalker as a woman. There have got to be some inaccuracies or things we overlooked because of the gender,” you murmur, stopping at a red light. “Call Garcia for me.”

The phone rings once before Penelope’s unmistakable voice chimes through. “Speak my pretties, and you shall be heard!”

“Hey, Pen, can you check what vehicle is registered under Maggie Lowe’s name?” You ask into the speaker, parking in front of the apartment.

“Checking, checking… aha! It’s a Honda Motorcycle, she just got it serviced six and a half months ago.”

“That’s the vehicle that the UnSub was driving when they shot at us,” you mumble in realisation. “Call the others, the UnSub might be Maggie Lowe. We’re checking the apartment now.”

“Gideon and Derek are at the art gallery to talk to Parker Dunley,” Elle points out. “I’ll let them know we’re at her apartment.”

There’s a typing on the other side of the line and Penelope chimes in once more. “Bad news, my loves. The cameras report Lowe’s motorcycle leaving the apartment complex half an hour ago.”

“Garcia, call Reid and tell him what we know. Elle and I are going into the apartment. We might find evidence or clues on who the next victim might be.” 

With that, you hang up, getting out of the car and running up the stairs with Elle hot on your heels. 

“Maggie Lowe?” You call through the door, knocking once then twice. 

You’re met with silence and you grimace, deciding to do Derek’s favourite move: kicking the door down. With a crash, the door slams open and you grip your gun a little tighter in your hand. Bathroom, clear. Kitchen and pantry, clear. Lounge, clear. Bedroom, clear– you stop short. Pictures– framed pictures– of Lila hung around the wall. A cork board with newspaper clipping and magazine cut outs were pinned meticulously to the cork backing, each one with Lila’s face and name circled with bold red marker. 

“Holy shit…” Elle whispers, holstering her gun and staring at the wall. “This is… this is beyond obsession.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond, putting on a blue glove and flipping through the cork board. “Call the others, Maggie is definitely the UnSub. Someone this obsessed must have…” you pause, filing through the desk on the other side of the room, “… a diary. Each murder was described to detail in each entry, as well as her feelings towards Lila.”

Elle grimaces as she looks over your shoulder to read the diary entries. “Grim.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Above her desk are images of Lila. Every single show she’s been in since Julliard, every time she was mentioned in an article, posters, newspaper clippings of the murders… the entire ordeal makes you feel sick. 

Elle sucks in a breath, staring at the desk. “She’s got Lila’s entire life documented.”

“And she’s probably already at Lila’s house,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. “We need to get over there, now.”

*** 

“The city of angels everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks amusedly, leaning against the wall of the jet as he watches you pour your third cup of coffee in the past three hours. 

It’s a couple days after Maggie Lowe was apprehended and the team were on the jet home getting some much needed rest. The aircon was put on full blast and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, enjoying the coolness on your skin in contrast to the hot Los Angeles weather. 

“I’m never coming back here,” you quip, your gaze shifting to where Spencer sits. He’s reading a book but he hasn’t turned a page for the past thirty seconds. “If I were to overthrow America, Los Angeles is the first place to go.”

Derek snorts, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you huff, finally looking at him. “I’m serious!”

“Sure kid. Totally believe you.”

He’s teasing, a knowing smirk on his face as he watches you chug the coffee with a grimace. Your tongue burns and you fill the cup with water and chug that as well, ignoring the amused look Derek keeps sending you. From the corner of your eye you see Spencer reading his book. At least, it would appear that he was reading to someone who didn’t know him. But you know him. He’s been staring into the pages for the past minute now and that alone was enough to let you know that he was paying more attention to your and Derek’s conversation than to the words on the page. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you sit beside Elle who is already fast asleep. You envy her for a moment as she leans against the plane window, blissfully unaware to your mental torment. Stupid Spencer and his stupidly pretty face. From where you’re sitting you can see the back of his head and you glare at that the ridiculous mop of brown on his head. 

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful and by the time you make it back to the office it’s already late. It’s nearing one in the morning and everyone begins to head home. Derek is yawning as he leaves the office and Elle has a look that screams ‘Don’t talk to me’. Gideon is long gone and Hotch was in his office, packing up the last of his papers and files. 

Spencer is sitting at his desk, combing through the paperwork and stashing a couple pages into his satchel. He bids farewell to Derek and the others before shoving his train pass into his pocket. 

“You’re taking the train?” You ask, finally speaking to him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he shifts on his feet, gripping the strap of his bag. “Um, yeah. I took the train here, so...”

“Oh.” You nod, glancing at the clock. “No you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get onto a train at one in the morning,” you say, pointing with your chin to the elevator. “You might be a man and all, but it doesn’t change the statistics.”

You know his weakness. Statistics. Facts. Spencer hates the fact that you know him so well. 

He relents, getting into the elevator with you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He hears you scoff, pressing B1 on the elevator. “Just because I’m mad at you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you do something potentially dangerous.”

He hates the way your words makes his heart flutter and he continues speak. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you did,” you respond curtly, watching as the elevator doors open. “Come on, my car is that way.”

Spencer flinches at your tone. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

“I–” the words die on his tongue as he wracks his brain. “I thought it was because you didn’t like Lila.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, unlocking the car. “Look, Reid–”

“Please,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking as he practically begs. “Please stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to him as you tug the car door open. “You want me to stop calling you by your name?”

Spencer’s nostrils flare as he gets in the car. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You laugh again as you start the engine, glancing at the mirrors. “Everyone calls you Reid. It shouldn’t be any different for me.”

He huffs. “But it is different. You’re… different.”

“How?” You challenge, backing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road. You’ve memorised the route from Quantico to Spencer’s apartment in DC– an almost one hour drive and you understand why Spencer hates driving to and from work. 

He falters before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t call me by my last name again.”

“Spencer,” You try again, missing the visible relief in his eyes, “I’m not mad at you because of something as miniscule as a girl. You’re entitled to your own relationships outside of work.”

“I don’t under– oh.” The realisation dawns on him when he recalls all the words you threw at him at the precinct. “I wasn’t a very good friend, was I?”

“No, Spencer, you weren’t.” You don’t hesitate to say it and Spencer winces at how quickly you agree with him. “You were unfair and let your emotions get in the way of the case. You criticised me and undermined my authority and then you had the absolute nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, the lump in his throat getting bigger. 

“It hurt, Spencer,” you say, and your voice cracks as well. “It hurt because you’re my best friend and I would have supported you through everything. You know that. And I get that friends fight, but I thought that we wouldn’t fight about something as stupid as who you hook up with.”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Spencer says quietly, and he thinks he might cry. “I’m serious, (Y/N), I didn’t hook up with her. She kissed me–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your gaze shifts to him for barely a second before it’s back on the road. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. I just didn’t think it would effect our friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says again, holding onto his bag. 

You’re quiet before continuing, “ I know you are. I know that. I’m sorry that you thought that you needed to justify your feelings to me.”

He swallows thickly, watching your face carefully. You didn’t do anything to make him feel like he had to justify himself. If anything, it was Spencer’s conscious that made him feel the need to explain himself. The guilt that he felt after kissing Lila was enough to get him to feel sick. The guilt that he felt after knowing how badly he hurt you was enough to make him want to grovel at your feet. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbles, wetting his bottom lip. “You had– have– every right to be upset.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore,” You say as you continue to drive down the freeway. 

He’s quiet before he finally says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally park in front of his apartment, leaning against the chair. “I know. I know, I’m sorry too. I said… a lot of things.”

“I deserved it,” he says, a small laugh leaving his lips as he finally looks at you. “You’re right, I wasn’t being fair.”

You hum, leaning over the console to give him an awkward hug. He presses his nose into your shoulder, breathing in your vanilla perfume. His arms wrap around your middle and he realises how much he missed this. How he missed being close to you. 

“I won’t do it again,” he promises. 

“I know.”

“I really am sorry.”

“You need to stop apologising.” Your words come out like a laugh and he realises how much he misses that sound too.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says into your shoulder. “Coffees for a month. I’ll even get you those croissants you like, even though they’re really overpriced.”

You laugh again and he smiles. 

“You apologising is already good enough,” You say, squeezing his arms. “Now go get some rest, Spence.”

His smile widens at the nickname and he finally pulls away. “Good night. Thank you for driving me home.”

You smile back. “Good night. Don’t mention it.”

The next morning, you find a steaming coffee on your desk and a freshly baked croissant in a brown paper bag. Spencer waves at you and you can’t help the goofy grin on your face as you take a bite into the croissant. 

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[kiwriteswords]

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Part I in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I can't stop writing Hotch x 'someone from his past' stories. I loved writing this one, though. I'm really excited to share this one with you. I have taken a break from some of the shy!reader fics and really, truly leaned into a reader (I probably embarrassingly identify with too much)...the bold, unapologetically-flirty!Reader, who tends to let her mouth get her in trouble more often than not! Also, thank you to @spoonpine for walking through this idea with me in the comments of my o.g. post!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 11k

Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Sexual Tension, Undercover Mission, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Banter, Teasing, Emotional Vulnerability, Flirting, Team Dynamics, Slightly Suggestive Themes, Brief Mentions of Violence (related to the case), Tension Build-Up, Slight NSFW, professor!reader if you squint

Sypnosis: After years away from the BAU, you return to the team you once called home. Some things feel familiar, but your dynamic with Aaron Hotchner has changed. What started as playful banter now carries an undercurrent of something more, and the line between professionalism and desire begins to blur. In a world where control is key, the tension between you and Hotch is about to reach its breaking point.

It had been years since you last walked the halls of Quantico. 

Back then, things were different. You were a profiler, standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Agents Gideon, Rossi, and Hotchner. 

You had a deep understanding of how the human mind worked—specifically, how it could be unraveled and manipulated. Your background in psychological torture had set you apart from most, and it wasn’t long before your work at the BAU made you a name within the Bureau.

But as the years went on, you found yourself taking a different path—one that led to the world of academia. Teaching at an Ivy League university seemed like the natural next step. It gave you the chance to share your knowledge, write books, and shape the next generation of criminologists. But as fulfilling as it was, something was missing.

The adrenaline. The stakes. The feeling of being out in the field, making a difference in real-time.

At the BAU, Rossi had seen it for a while now: the way Hotch carried the burden of the job, rarely letting himself relax. 

It wasn’t about setting him up with someone; it was about challenging him, waking him up again. You—sharp, confident, and always able to push his buttons—had a way of doing just that. 

Years ago, there had always been a fire between you, something unspoken yet undeniable. 

Rossi didn’t need to fan those flames—he just knew that having you nearby would reignite something in Hotch, force him out of his controlled, measured existence. You were one of the few who could challenge him in ways no one else could.

It wasn’t just about making Hotch feel young again but making him feel alive.

When Rossi reached out, you hadn’t needed much convincing. The new age of teaching wasn’t what it used to be anyway, and the BAU--it had always felt like home.

“Come on, kid,” Rossi’s voice crackled through the phone. “You know you miss the action. Sitting behind a desk teaching criminology to a bunch of Ivy League kids? That’s not you.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “Don’t knock it, Rossi. There’s a certain charm in watching them squirm when they realize the real world isn’t as glamorous as they thought.”

“Maybe,” Rossi replied with a laugh, “but you belong in the field, not in front of a chalkboard. The team misses you.”

You smirked, unable to resist teasing him. “The team, huh? Or is this your way of saying you’re getting old and need someone to keep you on your toes?”

“Please,” Rossi shot back, “I’m timeless. But we could use a little more… fire around here. You always had a way of lighting things up.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me, Rossi?”

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly. “And maybe Hotch could use the challenge, too.”

“Ah, now I see. You’re just trying to stir the pot,” you teased, your voice light. “Fine, I’m in. But don’t think I won’t be bringing my own brand of chaos.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Rossi said, a smile in his voice. “Welcome home.”

When you worked together years ago, before Hotch became Unit Chief, there had always been something between you—unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. The chemistry was undeniable, though you both kept it buried under layers of professionalism. 

At the time, Hotch was married to Haley, and you had been in a relationship of your own. The affection you had for Haley, knowing how much she meant to him, made the idea of crossing that line impossible. There was a mutual understanding that, no matter the tension between you, it couldn’t be acted upon. 

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to play around. 

You were always a natural flirt. Charisma came to you as easily as breathing, and sometimes, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. 

But with Hotch… it was different. He was reserved, controlled, and steady in a way that made the small cracks in his composure so satisfying to witness. And it became impossible to resist pushing him, just a little. 

Watching him squirm under the weight of your words and subtle glances became a game—a game where you were always two steps ahead. 

You knew how to push his buttons, and he let you.

He always had.

The distance between you, built by circumstance and respect for your respective relationships, had kept everything in check back then. It was that very distance that allowed the two of you to maintain your professional connection without ever letting the attraction get in the way.

The two of you had kept in touch over the years--various bureau events…the typical bureaucratic crap that you two would often bond over rolling your eyes at. 

But now, things were different. There were no more barriers. Haley was gone, your own relationship had long since ended, and that old chemistry still lingered—stronger, maybe, after all the time and distance. And this time, there was nothing to stop it from burning brighter.

There was something freeing knowing you could push a little further. The idea of it, acting on this attraction you couldn’t even deny you’ve had over the years, was thrilling.

On your first day back, the team gathered in the briefing room. Rossi had greeted you like the old friend you were, a sly smile on his face as if he already knew what was coming. Hotch stood off to the side, arms crossed, his eyes catching yours as the rest of the team exchanged introductions. He stepped forward, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed.

“It’s good to have you back,” Hotch said, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if acknowledging the weight of the years that had passed since you last worked together. “Things have changed a bit.”

You shook his hand, feeling the weight of familiarity settle between you, his grip warm and steady. “Yeah, I noticed. You’re the boss now,” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone playful but your gaze steady. “Guess I’ll have to get used to taking orders.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his brow lifted just slightly, a rare flicker of amusement in his eyes. His thumb brushed across your hand before he released it, stepping back. “We’ll see how well that goes.”

The others—Morgan, JJ, Reid, and Prentiss—had heard of you, of course. Your name was well-known in FBI circles, especially since you’d been one of the few women to pave the way for others in the Bureau. They respected you immediately, not just because of your accolades, but because of how you carried yourself—confident, self-assured, commanding respect without demanding it.

The case briefing began, and Hotch, ever the professional, gave the rundown of the unsub’s profile. You couldn’t help yourself. As he stood in front of the team, rattling off key details, you crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Still delivering profiles like they’re carved in stone, Hotchner?” you teased casually, just loud enough for the others to hear.

Hotch’s eyes flickered toward you, a brief flash of something behind them before he cleared his throat. 

“I prefer to think of them as accurate,” he replied, his voice smooth but with an edge. “Just like always.”

The corner of your mouth lifted into a knowing smile, and you saw it—the tiniest twitch of discomfort in his jaw. 

Oh, you still had him.

Rossi, sitting nearby, chuckled softly. “Watch out, everyone. The professor’s back.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances. JJ leaned toward Emily, whispering, “Is it just me, or is there something… more there?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely not imagining it.”

In the days that followed, it became clear to the rest of the team that there was a thick tension between you and Hotch—an almost palpable current that crackled whenever you were in the same room. 

You couldn’t help the way you flirted with him. Sometimes, it was a subtle comment, a lingering glance, or the way you stood just a little too close during case briefings. Other times, it was more overt—a casual touch on his arm, a playful quip when you knew the team was listening. 

You’d always had a rebellious streak when it came to authority, sometimes you wondered how you got as far as you did in your career with that mouth of yours.

Hotch—rigid, rule-following Hotch—was just too tempting a target. You’d once jokingly referred to yourself as a “brat” when it came to pushing buttons, and in your case, that usually meant defying authority with a smile on your face.

But something was different now. Back when you worked together years ago, Hotch would brush off your teasing with calm professionalism, barely giving you a reaction. He’d remain composed, seemingly impervious to your provocations. Now, though, he seemed more willing to engage, to push back just a little more than you expected. 

You weren’t often surprised by people, but Hotch’s newfound ability to meet your wit with his own had caught you off guard.

It wasn’t just his typical stoic self anymore—there was an edge to his responses, a glint in his eye that made it clear he wasn’t just enduring your teasing; he was playing along. And it threw you off balance in a way you didn’t quite anticipate.

It wasn’t just in front of the team, either. In private, away from the others, Hotch’s responses had started to take on a different tone—quieter, more personal, laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. There were times, especially late at night when the office was nearly empty, when his voice would drop low as he answered one of your playful jabs, turning the tables on you in a way that made you squirm just a little.

And that was something new. You weren’t used to being the one caught off guard. Hotch had always been steady, collected. But now, you noticed the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips when you spoke, the way his voice dropped just a little lower when he addressed you directly. He never let it show, at least not on the surface, but you knew. You always knew.

It was late, the bullpen quiet save for the soft hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers. You had finished most of your report and were about to call it a night when you spotted Hotch still in his office, the faint glow from his desk lamp highlighting his focused expression. Naturally, you couldn’t resist.

You knocked lightly on his door, smirking as you leaned against the frame. 

“Burning the midnight oil, Hotchner? You know, even you need sleep sometimes,” you teased, the playful lilt in your voice familiar.

Hotch didn’t look up right away, but you saw the small smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.”

You stepped into his office, crossing your arms as you leaned against his desk. “Well, unlike you, I still know how to have fun. Late-night drinks can be productive, you know.”

This time, Hotch raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression calm but something else lurking behind it. “Is that an invitation?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the unexpected shift in his tone. “I—what?”

He closed the file in front of him slowly, standing up from his desk to face you fully. His voice was steady, a quiet challenge in his words. 

“You said late-night drinks could be productive. If you’re offering, I might just take you up on that.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, something that almost never happened. You could feel your pulse quicken, the confidence you usually wielded slipping as Hotch’s eyes stayed on yours, unflinching.

Recovering quickly, you gave him a slow, teasing smile, though your heart still raced. “Are you sure you could handle it, Hotch? You don’t strike me as the type to let loose.”

Without missing a beat, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe you’ve underestimated me.”

There it was. The subtle, confident way he turned the tables, leaving you scrambling for a response. You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of this kind of banter, especially not from Hotch.

You felt a flush rise in your cheeks, and Hotch’s eyes flickered down, just briefly, as if noticing. When he looked back up, there was a slight smile playing on his lips, but he didn’t push further, leaving the weight of the moment hanging between you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, your voice a touch quieter than you intended, the flirtation still there, but now with an undercurrent of something else. Something deeper.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression softening, though his gaze didn’t falter. “Good night, then.”

You turned to leave, feeling the warmth in your cheeks as you walked out of his office, your mind spinning from the unexpected encounter. You had always been able to push his buttons, but tonight… it seemed Hotch had learned how to push yours.

Over time, the team grew used to the rapport between you and Hotch, much like how they had come to accept the flirtatious banter between Penelope and Derek. But with you and Hotch, it was different—sharper, more restrained, but no less intense. 

The others would exchange knowing glances when your conversations got a little too charged, but they respected the unspoken boundaries you and Hotch danced around.

And the truth was, those boundaries wouldn’t stay unbroken forever.

There was this push and pull—a game of tug-of-war. You both knew how to push each other's buttons, but you also knew when to let go before the rope broke or one of you fell flat on your faces. It was a delicate balance, and somehow, neither of you ever crossed the line. At least, not yet.

It was late, and the harsh lighting of the local police station did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that hung over the team. 

The case had finally been wrapped up, and now it was just a matter of packing up and heading home. Everyone was scattered around the room, collecting files and closing laptops, the weight of the long hours evident on all of your faces.

You were finishing up, leaning casually against one of the cluttered desks near Hotch, who was meticulously stacking paperwork into his briefcase. He always took his time—never rushed, even at the end of a long case. It was one of the things that both fascinated and frustrated you about him.

“Come on, Hotch,” you teased, watching him with a smirk. “You ever think about leaving the paperwork for tomorrow? Or are you afraid the world might end if you don’t have everything perfectly organized before we leave?”

Hotch looked up from his task, his expression as stoic as ever. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can all go home,” he replied, his voice even and calm.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Home? You mean you’re actually going to leave this place?” you asked, your tone playful. “I always thought you just… stayed at the office, brooding until the next case rolled in.”

Across the room, Morgan and Prentiss were packing up their own gear, but your voice was loud enough to catch their attention. Morgan glanced over, smirking. “Brooding’s definitely on-brand for Hotch,” he muttered to Prentiss, who hid a smile behind her hand.

Hotch closed his briefcase and stood up, straightening his posture as he turned to you, and this time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that caught you off guard. 

“I don’t brood,” he said, his tone just a little too smooth. “And I think you’d be surprised at how well I can unwind.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected comeback. “Oh yeah?” you challenged, crossing your arms and leaning against the desk a bit more. “Guess I’ll need proof of that. Can’t have the Unit Chief pretending to be fun when there’s no evidence.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat. He stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough that only you could hear, though the team was watching from across the room. 

“Careful,” he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. “You might not be able to keep up.”

Your breath hitched slightly, your pulse quickening in response to the subtle challenge in his words. You weren’t used to Hotch pushing back like this, and it caught you off balance for a second. You had always been the one to make him squirm, but now… now, he was the one getting under your skin.

“Did Hotch just—” Prentiss began, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at Morgan, who looked just as surprised.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I think Hotch just played her at her own game.”

Prentiss smirked, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. “I didn’t know he had a game.”

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, he does. He’s just been keeping it locked away until now.”

Across the room, Rossi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, gave an almost imperceptible nod, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. He had known you would be good for Hotch, and seeing the dynamic between the two of you now only confirmed it.

You quickly regained your composure, leaning in just slightly as you shot back, “I’m pretty sure I could handle it, Aaron.”

Hotch’s lips quirked in a subtle smile, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped back and grabbed his coat, leaving the challenge hanging in the air. 

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a teasing undertone to it now.

As Hotch walked toward the door, the rest of the team finally let out the breath they had been holding.

“Wow,” JJ said, eyes wide. “Did we just witness Hotch flirting?”

“I’m not sure I believe it,” Reid chimed in, looking genuinely puzzled.

Morgan crossed his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Rossi walked past you, slapping a hand on your shoulder as he did. “Keep it up, kid,” he said with a satisfied grin. “Looks like you’ve got him right where you want him.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I think he’s the one keeping me on my toes now,” you muttered under your breath.

As the team gathered their things and headed for the SUVs, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Hotch. The way he had engaged with you tonight—subtle, teasing, but undeniably flirtatious—left you with a strange mixture of excitement and surprise. You’d always known how to push his buttons, but now? Now it felt like Hotch was finally ready to play the game.

And for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure who had the upper hand.

Weeks had passed since that night, and though the tension between you and Hotch still simmered beneath the surface, the team had moved on to a new case, throwing you both back into the rhythm of work. The dynamic had shifted, but the game remained—unspoken but always present. Now, out in the field with Morgan, the familiar tension crept back in as you prepared to relay critical information to Hotch.

The case had taken a sharp turn, and every second mattered. You dialed Hotch’s number, knowing the information you were about to relay could be critical. But, as always, the tension had you slipping into your usual rhythm of teasing—almost like second nature when things got stressful.

Hotch answered on the second ring. “Hotchner.”

“Hey, got something for you,” you said, catching a breath. “We spoke to a witness. Black SUV, partial plates, seen leaving the scene about an hour ago. I’m starting to think I’m carrying this whole case. You sure you don’t need me running things for you while you take a day off?”

Morgan shot you a sharp look, trying not to laugh. The timing wasn’t great, and he fully expected Hotch to cut you off with a firm, no-nonsense response. After all, this was Hotch.

There was a brief pause on the line, and Morgan mouthed at you, “He’s gonna kill you.”

But then, Hotch’s voice came through, low and steady. “Careful,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll start thinking you’re trying to get yourself reassigned to paperwork duty.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. That wasn’t what you expected at all. Was that… Hotch teasing you? It was subtle—typical Hotch—but unmistakable. Your mouth opened to respond, but for once, words didn’t immediately come.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly floored. “Wait, did Hotch just—” he started, but you waved a hand to silence him, still processing the fact that Aaron Hotchner had just flirted back, in his own serious, dry way.

“Well,” you finally managed, “as long as I can file it in your office, I’m sure I’d manage just fine.”

Another pause. “I think you’d find my office much less entertaining than you imagine,” Hotch replied smoothly, the same playful edge to his voice.

Morgan let out a disbelieving laugh, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

“I—uh, yeah, I’ll get those plates to you,” you said, trying to regain control of the conversation, but there was a heat in your cheeks that wasn’t from the work. “I’ll, uh, check in when we’ve got more.”

“Understood,” Hotch said, his tone back to business, though you could still hear the amusement lingering beneath the surface. “Keep me updated.”

Something shifted. The playful banter that had always come so easily felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. For the first time, you both sensed it—this wasn’t just a game anymore. The teasing, the flirting—it had blurred the line between fun and something far more real. Neither of you said it out loud, but you could feel it in the weight of every word, in the way the silence lingered a second too long after each response.

When the call ended, Morgan stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You gotta be kidding me. Hotch? The man barely cracks a smile, and here he is giving you hell?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the lingering warmth in your face. “He’s still my boss,” you said, playing it cool. “He’s just… keeping me in line.”

Morgan snorted. “Yeah, right. If I said half that stuff to him, I’d be doing desk duty for a month. You’ve got some kind of magic over him, I swear.”

Meanwhile, back at the local precinct, Hotch ended the call and glanced up to find Rossi watching him with a knowing grin. Rossi had caught the tail end of the conversation and didn’t need to ask to know what had just happened.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at him. “Something you want to say?”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing at all, Aaron. Just nice to see you loosening up.”

Hotch gave him a steady look, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Someone has to keep her in check,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Sure,” Rossi replied, clearly enjoying the exchange far too much. “Though I don’t think you’re trying that hard to stop her.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but there was a quiet understanding between them. Rossi had always known how to read between the lines, and Hotch’s small smile confirmed that Rossi’s instincts were right.

Back in the field, Morgan still hadn’t let it go. “I seriously don’t know how you get away with it,” he said, shaking his head as you both climbed into the SUV.

You shot him a sidelong glance, the smirk creeping back onto your face now that you had recovered from the surprise. “What can I say? I’m special.”

“Yeah, well, you better be careful,” Morgan teased, pulling out of the lot. “Because if Hotch ever does snap, it’s going to be spectacular.”

You laughed, leaning back in your seat. “I think we both know he likes playing this game as much as I do.”

Morgan chuckled but didn’t disagree. As you drove away, you couldn’t help but think back to Hotch’s voice on the phone, how he’d turned your usual banter right back on you. For once, he had left you the one a little off balance.

Later that day, as you and Morgan returned to the bullpen, Penelope swirled into the room with her usual dramatic flair. 

"Well, well, well," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I heard a little birdie tell me there was some serious verbal sparring going on between you and the boss-man in the field today. Dare I ask how it ended?"

Morgan chuckled, throwing you a knowing glance. "Oh, it ended alright. But for once, I think Hotch had the upper hand."

Penelope gasped in mock horror, her eyes widening. "Our resident queen of sass, left speechless by Hotch? This I have to see."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s nothing I can’t handle," you said, but the truth lingered in your mind. This was only the beginning, and even you didn’t know where it would lead.

As the days passed, you found yourself thinking more and more about that shift with Hotch, but before you could dwell on it too much, the next unavoidable event crept up on you—a formal Bureau gala.

It was a rare occurrence—one of those formal Bureau events where the invitations were non-negotiable, the kind you couldn’t avoid no matter how much you wanted to. This time, it was a benefit gala, an annual gathering of Bureau brass and political figures. Most of the team had managed to find a way out, but you, Hotch, and Rossi had drawn the short straws.

Rossi, ever the diplomat, had no issue attending these sorts of events—especially since Strauss had already invited him as her plus-one, an arrangement that left you and Hotch both slightly bemused.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” you teased when you and Hotch were left figuring out your own arrangements.

Hotch looked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, to your surprise, he said, “You could come as my date.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. Hotch rarely flirted so openly, and the ease with which the words left his mouth left you momentarily speechless. 

“Your date?” you repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You sure you can handle that?”

“I think the better question is whether you can behave,” Hotch replied, his tone measured but carrying that dry, teasing edge you were beginning to recognize more and more.

You raised an eyebrow, recovering quickly. 

“Behave? Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped back. “Alright, deal. But you better not leave me to fend off the Bureau’s old guard on my own.”

Hotch gave a small, amused smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The night of the gala approached faster than you expected, and soon enough, Hotch was back in his office, preparing for the evening ahead.

As Hotch finished straightening his bow tie, he heard the familiar knock on his office door. Rossi stepped in, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp as ever.

“You clean up nice,” Rossi said with a smirk. “But that’s not what’s got me concerned.”

Hotch looked up from his desk, brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rossi stepped closer, his tone softening just slightly. “Aaron, I’ve been watching you. You’ve got that look—like you’re fighting something inside.”

Hotch sighed. He didn’t have to ask what Rossi meant. “It’s complicated, Dave.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “It’s only as complicated as you make it. Look, I know you. You’re holding back because that’s what you do. But maybe this time, you don’t have to. Let loose. Lean into it. You deserve that.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure I can afford to.”

Rossi smiled knowingly. “You deserve to feel alive again, Aaron. Don’t miss your chance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but the words stayed with him long after Rossi left the room. He just continued to run through his thoughts as he grabbed his keys and made his way to the SUV to go pick you up. 

You’d never have imagined Hotch picking you up in a tux, let alone for a Bureau gala where you’d be going as his date. 

It had started as playful banter, something you never thought would lead to more. But the moment you accepted his offer to be his date, something shifted. There was a weight behind it, an unspoken connection that ran deeper than either of you had let on. 

And now, as you smoothed your dress one final time before he arrived, a flutter of nerves settled in your chest. This wasn’t just flirting anymore. You could feel it—something real, something that went beyond the game you’d been playing for months.

When Hotch pulled up in front of your place, he stepped out of the car to greet you, and the sight of him in a sharp black tuxedo made you momentarily lose your train of thought. He was always put-together, but tonight? Tonight, there was an extra edge to his appearance, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Right on time,” you quipped as he opened the door for you. “Very punctual, as always. Does that come with being Unit Chief, or is that just your way of keeping everyone else on their toes?”

Hotch gave you a small smile, his eyes flickering over your dress for just a second longer than usual. “Some habits are hard to break,” he replied evenly. “You look great, by the way.”

You slid into the car, throwing him a playful glance. “You too, Hotch. I didn’t even know you owned anything that wasn’t a suit. What, no bulletproof vest tonight?”

He chuckled under his breath as he started the car, his hands gripping the wheel in that familiar, controlled way. “I figured it wasn’t necessary for a Bureau gala.”

You leaned back in your seat, smirking. “Well, you never know. Some of those higher-ups look like they could start a fight at any moment. Good thing you’ve got me as backup.”

Hotch gave a small shake of his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle yourself just fine.”

As the car sped through the city streets, you couldn’t resist pushing him a little more. “Come on, Hotch. You’ve got to be at least a little excited. Big fancy event, all dressed up. We might even see you smile tonight.”

He glanced at you, his expression calm but with that familiar, dry edge. “You might want to lower your expectations.”

You grinned, leaning a little closer to him as you teased, “What, are you saying I’m setting the bar too high?”

His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road, and you caught that subtle tension in his posture. “I’m saying you always seem to enjoy pushing limits.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the way he’d turned the banter back on you. You opened your mouth to respond, but his quiet confidence left you feeling like he had gained the upper hand.

“Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting,” you muttered, trying to regain your footing.

For the rest of the drive, you continued to pepper him with lighthearted comments—teasing him about his serious demeanor, joking about the politics of Bureau galas, you even talked about Jack a few times—but underneath it all, there was a tension growing. Each time Hotch shot back with his calm, dry responses, it felt like a game you were both playing, and you were starting to realize you might not be in control of it anymore.

When you arrived at the gala, Hotch stepped out of the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand as you stepped out. You were about to throw another teasing comment his way, but when you looked up at him, standing there in that tux, the words caught in your throat.

He met your eyes with a steady gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The teasing, the banter—it all fell away, leaving behind the raw tension that had been building since he picked you up.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the sounds of the city around you.

You blinked, quickly recovering. “Yeah, just… surprised that you’re really here, taking me as your date.” Your eyes flicked over him, taking in how good he looked, even though that wasn’t the real surprise. “But, I mean, you do clean up nice, Aaron.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Surprised I asked you?” His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I thought it was about time.”

You smiled, the tension between you thickening. “Maybe I am

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was elegant, with the sounds of soft music and quiet chatter filling the room. You and Hotch had already made your rounds, engaging in small talk with Bureau officials and shaking hands with people you didn’t particularly care for. But through it all, the tension between you and Hotch lingered.

After an hour or so, you found yourselves at the bar, taking a moment to escape the crowd. You leaned against the counter, watching Hotch as he ordered a drink for himself and one for you.

“See?” you said, giving him a teasing smile. “This isn’t so bad. You’re surviving, and you even managed to crack a joke or two. I think we can count this as a win.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who said I needed to loosen up,” he said evenly, his voice carrying that quiet, playful edge. “I’m just following your advice.”

You grinned, the energy between you shifting, the tension you’d been playing with all night coming to a head. Now was as good a time as any to test his limits a little further. 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of advice for you, Hotch,” you said, leaning in just enough to catch his full attention, your voice dropping to something more suggestive. “And I bet if I really tried, I could get you to loosen up a lot more.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened, lingering on yours longer than before. There was a flicker of surprise there—just for a second—but it quickly turned into something else. Amusement. Challenge.

“You might want to be careful,” he replied, his voice still smooth but now edged with something darker, something more dangerous. “You’re playing a game you might not be ready to finish.”

You laughed softly, unbothered by his attempt to warn you off. If anything, it only made you push harder. “I don’t think you’d mind that one bit,” you said, your tone bold. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s holding back.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t going to let you off that easily. “Is that what you think? That I’m holding back?”

You tilted your head, “Oh, I know you are. You’ve been doing it all night.”

For a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick enough to cut through. Hotch’s eyes flicked down to your mouth for a second before returning to meet yours, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a growl. “You might be playing with fire.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time that night, you wondered if you had pushed him a little too far. But then again, that’s exactly what you’d been trying to do, wasn’t it? Test the waters. See how much you could make him bend before he snapped.

But Hotch didn’t snap. Instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not the one who’ll break first.”

Your breath caught, and before you could respond, the bartender breaking the moment. You took a step back, trying to compose yourself as Hotch straightened, his expression calm and controlled once again—though the look in his eyes told you the game wasn’t over.

“Here you go. Anything else for the happy couple?” The bartender placed the glasses in front of you both.

You froze for a second, the bartender’s words hanging in the air. You were about to correct him when you glanced at Hotch, curious to see his reaction.

Hotch, to your surprise, didn’t immediately deny it. Instead, he gave the bartender a polite smile and said, “We’re fine, thank you.”

As the bartender moved on, you turned to Hotch, raising an eyebrow. “Happy couple, huh?”

Hotch shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It seemed easier than explaining.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned in closer. “I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

He met your gaze, his expression calm but with that unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you felt heavier now, the flirtation and tension building to a point where it felt like something was bound to break. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the banter without it tipping over into something more.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice dropping, “if we’re going to play the part, we should at least make it convincing.”

Hotch’s eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. “Is that what you want?”

For once, you weren’t sure what to say. The teasing had turned into something real, something you hadn’t expected, and now you were standing at the edge of a line neither of you had crossed before.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

Hotch didn’t move, but the weight of his gaze stayed locked on yours, the tension between you stretching tight, waiting to snap.

“Are you ready for what comes next?” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm, and you knew—whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be able to go back.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but before either of you could act on the weight of the moment, the evening continued on, pulling you both back into the motions of the event. 

As the night was winding down, you and Hotch found yourselves standing with Rossi and Strauss near the exit. The tension between you and Hotch had been brewing all evening, and Rossi, as always, hadn’t missed a thing.

With a dramatic sigh, Rossi glanced between you two before smirking at Strauss. “You might want to start drafting those HR consensual relationship forms, Erin,” he teased, eyes twinkling. “Looks like there’ll be a couple on your desk by Monday.”

Strauss rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, and what about your paperwork, Dave?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow at their own not-so-subtle fraternizing.

Rossi grinned, unbothered. “I’m grandfathered in. But these two?” He gave you and Hotch a knowing look. “Better watch out.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, while Hotch remained calm, though you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Hotch said, his voice steady, but you could feel the charge between you.

Strauss sighed, giving one final glance between you and Hotch. “Just make sure I’m not dealing with fallout from both of you by Monday.”

Rossi patted her arm, chuckling. “Only if you sign the forms first.”

As Rossi and Strauss headed out, you turned to Hotch, smirking. “Looks like we’re on notice.”

Hotch’s lips curved just slightly. “Seems that way.”

You both shared a brief, knowing look, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

The night had stretched on, and as the crowd in the ballroom began to thin, the tension between you and Hotch had reached a breaking point. 

The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his hand, and the simmering heat had become too much. Hotch, ever composed, had kept his professional demeanor in front of the others all night, but you could feel the pull between you both—like you were walking a tightrope.

You both stood off to the side after the last round of handshakes, observing the room in comfortable silence. But out of the corner of your eye, you caught Hotch glancing at you, his expression unreadable, though there was something different in his gaze tonight—something less guarded.

“Need some air?” he asked quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I think I could use a break from all the small talk.”

Hotch didn’t say anything more, but you followed him as he led the way toward a quieter part of the venue, away from the buzz of the event. 

It was a subtle move, deliberate yet not rushed. You could feel your heart beating a little faster, though neither of you had said anything more.

He pushed open a door to a quiet, unused room, likely an office set aside for event staff, and gestured for you to follow him inside. You did, your breath catching slightly at the realization of how close you were now to being truly alone.

Once inside, the door clicked softly behind you, and the hum of the gala faded into the background, leaving the two of you standing in the dimly lit space. Hotch remained still, keeping a respectful distance, though the tension in the air was palpable. His body language was controlled, but the way his eyes flicked to yours made it clear he wasn’t unaffected by everything that had passed between you tonight.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady, but there was a subtle edge to it—like he was testing the waters, gauging where you stood.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze. “Just… a lot tonight.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, his voice quieter now, low and controlled. There was no accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment of the game you’d both been playing.

Your breath hitched, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You seem to be holding up pretty well.”

“Barely,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your lips. His response surprised you, but also intrigued you. 

He moved in closer, his presence almost overwhelming as he pressed you gently against the wall, his hand bracing beside your head.

For a second, neither of you moved. His body was just inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. The tension, the push and pull of the game you’d both been playing, was about to snap.

Before you could say another word, Hotch’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, lingering there in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was soft but deliberate, and it took every ounce of restraint not to close the small gap between you.

Just as you leaned in, lips almost touching, Hotch’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound cutting through the moment like a knife. He sighed, the frustration clear, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he fished out his phone with his free hand, glancing at the screen.

“Hotchner,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting back to its usual authoritative tone, though his body stayed pressed close to yours, his hand still resting on your face.

You thought he might step back, put some distance between you, but he didn’t. 

Instead, as he spoke into the phone—likely discussing the logistics of the case—his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself. 

It was such a contrast to the professional tone of his voice that it made your head spin.

You tried to focus on what he was saying, but the heat from his touch, the way he stayed so close, made it impossible to think clearly. You felt every breath he took, the tension between you even more potent now that you were both so aware of it but unable to act.

After what felt like an eternity, Hotch finally hung up the phone, but he still didn’t pull away. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment thickening all over again.

“We’ve got a case,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, like the weight of what almost happened hadn’t left him unaffected.

You exhaled, a frustrated but soft laugh escaping your lips. 

“Figures,” you murmured, your heart still pounding.

Hotch’s thumb brushed over your lip one last time before he finally stepped back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. But the tension between you remained, unbroken.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer before he turned toward the door.

As you both walked out of the room and back into the world of the FBI, you knew he wasn’t making an empty promise. Whatever had started tonight, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Whatever was staring you two in the face was too good to ignore. 

Within the hour, the team gathered in the briefing room, the atmosphere charged with the usual mix of focus and adrenaline that came with starting a new case. You were still thinking about the gala—about how close you and Hotch had come to crossing that line before the case pulled you away. Now, the professional walls were back up, and things were business as usual. Or so you thought.

Garcia had laid out the details of the new case on the screen, and you listened as she explained the suspects and their patterns. The unsub was targeting high-profile events, blending in by posing as part of the upper-crust social scene while his victims were unaware. 

The most recent lead? A high-end party happening the next evening, where undercover agents would need to infiltrate to catch the suspect in the act.

Rossi glanced around the room, his gaze landing on you and Hotch, a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

“Well, looks like we need a couple,” Rossi said, his voice casual but with a teasing edge. “A couple that can really sell it. High-class, a little… steamy.”

You felt your stomach flip slightly, the underlying tension from last night creeping back in. Hotch remained composed beside you, his expression as unreadable as ever. But before you could respond, Morgan leaned forward, grinning like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know,” Morgan began, his eyes darting between you and Hotch, “I think we’ve already got the perfect pair for this.”

You blinked, your eyes widening slightly as the attention in the room shifted toward you and Hotch. “Wait—us? No.”

Morgan leaned back, smirking. “You two would be perfect. Got that whole chemistry thing down already.” He gave a mock shudder. “Not sure I’m ready to see what happens when you actually lean into it, though. Might witness something real go down out there.”

Hotch shot Morgan a brief but sharp look, clearly unimpressed with the teasing, though you could see the faintest hint of discomfort in his posture. 

“I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. “Come on, Aaron. You and her? The chemistry’s already there. Plus, you’re both the best at keeping your cool under pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, unsure how this had suddenly turned into you and Hotch going undercover as a couple, but JJ spoke up before you could.

“They’re right,” she said with a soft smile. “You two could pull this off. If anyone can make this look convincing, it’s you two.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but he said nothing. You, on the other hand, decided to lean into the banter, if only to diffuse the tension.

“Well,” you said with a grin, glancing at Hotch, “I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior. Don’t want to push your buttons too much while we’re out there.”

Morgan let out a low chuckle, and even Reid smirked behind his stack of files. “I think the real question,” Morgan said, glancing at Hotch, “is whether he can keep it together when you start leaning into the role.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his composure remained intact. “I’m perfectly capable of maintaining professionalism,” he said, though the tension in the room suggested that everyone—including Hotch—knew this undercover assignment was going to be anything but easy.

With the decision made, the plan was set: you and Hotch would pose as a couple attending the high-end party, posing as wealthy socialites while the team monitored from a distance.

As the meeting wrapped up, you caught Hotch’s gaze, the weight of everything unsaid between you settling back in. This assignment was going to test both of you, and it wasn’t just about catching the unsub—it was about how far you could push the chemistry that had been simmering between you for months.

As the team dispersed, Morgan walked by, shooting you both a playful glance. “Good luck out there. Just don’t make it too real, alright?”

You shook your head, giving him a light punch on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to break your Unit Chief.”

Morgan laughed, but before he could respond, Garcia’s voice piped up from behind, her eyes wide with dramatic flair. “Oh, sugar, please keep it together out there. I don’t think the universe can handle you two actually playing couple for real.”

Emily smirked, glancing between the two of you. “I have to admit, I’m almost curious to see how well you sell it. Key word: almost.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll behave. Promise.”

“Better you than me,” Emily added, giving you a playful wink before heading off with Garcia in tow.

Morgan chuckled as he walked away, leaving you and Hotch standing there for a moment. The teasing from the team faded as the reality of the situation set in, the tension between you suddenly palpable.

“You sure about this?” you asked quietly, your voice carrying more weight than before.

Hotch’s eyes softened just slightly as he looked at you, but his voice was steady. “We’ll make it work.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you believe him, even as your heart raced at the thought of what was about to unfold.

The small, dimly lit prep room had been quiet as you finished getting ready for the undercover assignment. 

You adjusted the delicate lace garter holster on your thigh, securing the small, discreet weapon inside, while slipping the matching lingerie into place. The deep red fabric, though meant to be functional, added an unexpected level of sexiness to the outfit—a necessary piece of your undercover role, but one that made you feel the weight of the assignment in a different way.

You were just about to slip on your dress when there was a soft knock on the door. “It’s me,” Hotch’s familiar voice came through, steady and calm as always.

“Come in,” you called, expecting him to go over last-minute details. But when the door swung open, Hotch stepped inside and froze.

His usual calm composure faltered for just a moment as his eyes fell on you, standing there in nothing but your lingerie and garter holster, the silk and lace framing your body in a way that was far from professional. 

He didn’t speak right away, his dark eyes taking in the sight of you with a stunned silence that was so un-Hotch it made you smile.

“Cat got your tongue, Aaron?” you teased, feeling the tension rise between you like a thick fog. The way he looked at you—completely unguarded, caught off balance—was more of a reaction than you’d ever expected.

He cleared his throat, his jaw tightening slightly as he tried to regain his composure, but the subtle flush in his cheeks told you all you needed to know. 

“We have… ten minutes before we leave,” he said, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual.

You smirked, turning to grab your dress from the hanger. 

“I know. Just finishing up,” you said casually, like the air between you wasn’t crackling with tension. 

You slipped the dress over your head, the soft fabric falling against your skin, but the zipper in the back was out of reach.

Without missing a beat, you turned your back to him, lifting your hair with one hand and glancing over your shoulder. “Help me with the zipper?”

Hotch hesitated for a second before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the smooth fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. His touch was light but deliberate, and as he slowly pulled the zipper up, you could feel the tension building with every inch.

The proximity was dizzying, the heat of his body just behind yours making your pulse race. You could sense his restraint, the way his breath caught slightly as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your back.

When he finished, his hands lingered for just a moment too long, and you turned to face him, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken desire.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. You could see it—he was fighting it, the same tension that had been building between you both for months.

Hotch stepped back, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable but his eyes giving him away. 

“We need to stay focused out there,” he said, his voice low, though there was an edge to it now, a struggle between control and something else.

You smiled, that familiar spark of playfulness returning to your voice. “Relax, Hotch. We’ve got this.” You took a step closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unless you want to practice playing the part before we go out there? You know… make sure we’ve got the chemistry down.”

For a moment, Hotch didn’t move, the weight of your words hanging between you like a challenge. His eyes flicked to your lips, his breath steady but shallow. The tension was unbearable, thick with everything unsaid.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “We both know there’s no time to finish what you’re starting.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could say anything else, he stepped back, the tension breaking just enough for him to regain his composure.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the door, though his voice carried the weight of everything still lingering between you.

You smiled to yourself as you followed him out, knowing that the real game was just about to begin.

The ride to the event was quiet, the tension between you and Hotch hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you both stayed focused on the task at hand, but every glance he threw your way only reminded you of the moment back in the dressing room.

The team had set up their surveillance positions nearby, and you both stepped out of the car in full undercover mode. 

The luxurious mansion in front of you was buzzing with high-profile guests, and as soon as you stepped into the party, you both had to sell your roles.

It wasn’t hard for either of you to slip into your roles. The emotions you had to display today felt natural, blurring the lines between the act and the very real tension coursing through both of you.

Hotch offered you his arm, and you slipped your hand through it with a practiced ease, the two of you moving through the crowd like you belonged there. But as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, part of the act, the tension returned full force.

“You’re playing the part well,” you teased softly, your lips brushing just close enough to his ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Hotch didn’t falter, but you could feel the slight shift in his body. “Just doing my job,” he replied smoothly, though there was an edge of heat in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

As you mingled with the guests, you stayed close, playing the part of the affectionate couple. His hand rested on the small of your back, his touch burning through the thin fabric of your dress, reminding you of every charged moment you’d shared.

At one point, you found yourselves standing at the bar, close enough that your bodies brushed together as you ordered drinks, keeping up the charade. Hotch leaned in, his voice low in your ear. “We’re being watched. Stay close.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, the moment too intimate for comfort—but necessary for the mission. You leaned into him, playing along, your fingers lightly trailing down his arm as you whispered, “I’d say you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You couldn’t resist the teasing grin that spread across your face. “Should we put on a show?”

Before Hotch could respond, a voice crackled through your earpiece—Morgan's voice, full of amusement. “Easy, you two.”

His gaze flickered, caught between amusement and caution, and he opened his mouth to respond—but then your eyes caught a sudden movement in the corner of the room. Your heartbeat quickened, not from the tension between you, but from the job itself. One of the suspects.

You straightened, your body still close to his but your focus shifting, your muscles tensing. “Target spotted,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving the suspect.

Hotch’s hand lingered for a second longer before it withdrew, his expression sharpening, professional mode slipping back into place. His eyes met yours—still aware of the heat simmering between you both—but the job came first.

“Let’s move,” he said, his voice low and controlled, his attention now fully on the mission.

Just like that, the tension between you was replaced by the sharp focus of the mission, though the heat between you never fully disappeared. It was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next moment you’d be forced to confront it.

As you and Hotch made your way back to the car after the undercover operation, the air between you felt different—heavier, quieter. The playful tension from earlier had faded, replaced by something more serious. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the sound of your footsteps filling the space.

Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice low. “You played the part well.”

You glanced at him, searching his expression. His usual guarded demeanor was still there, but the weight behind his words told you there was more he wasn’t saying. “So did you,” you replied softly, your own voice a little more vulnerable than before.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “It felt… real, at times,” he admitted, his words careful, like he was testing the waters.

You swallowed, feeling the gravity of what he was saying. “Yeah,” you said quietly, the teasing tone gone from your voice. “It wasn’t just an act, was it?”

Hotch stopped, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was no pretense. No game. “No. It wasn’t.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding, and for once, neither of you felt the need to fill it with banter. This moment—whatever it was—was real.

The drive back to the BAU had been quiet, filled with unspoken words that neither of you seemed ready to address, but now, with the case behind you and the rest of the team gone, the tension that had built throughout the night felt heavier than ever.

The rest of the team had gone home, leaving the building unusually still. Hotch had stayed behind to finish reports, the soft glow of his office light spilling into the empty hallway.

Standing outside his office, Hotch paused, his hand hovering just above the door handle. For months, he’d kept this quiet, simmering tension between them at bay—tucking it away into the same compartment where he'd stored every personal feeling since Haley’s death. It had been easier that way. Safer. But now, with the team gone, the quiet hum of the building around him, and the weight of tonight pressing on his chest, it felt impossible to ignore.

Maybe he was tired of being safe.

Maybe, after everything he’d lost, he deserved to feel something again.

He pushed the door open.

You were sitting on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, a knowing smile playing on your lips as your eyes met his. The sight of you—so calm, so collected—sent a shock of tension straight through him.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low and steady, though the crackle of something darker threaded through it. He closed the door behind him, the lock clicking softly as if sealing the two of you in.

“I figured we had some unfinished business,” you replied, your fingers lightly tracing the polished surface of his desk. “And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit here.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes darkened as he took a few slow, measured steps toward you. He kept his composure, but you could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw. He stopped just in front of you, his presence overwhelming, but still he held back.

“Why my desk?” he asked, his voice even quieter now, as if afraid of where this might lead but unable to stop it.

You leaned back, resting your weight on your hands, your gaze unwavering. “It just seemed… fitting,” you said softly, your voice filled with the same playful edge you’d always used to push him. “I’ve imagined this. Right here.”

Hotch’s breath hitched just slightly, his control slipping as he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the desk beside you. “You’ve imagined this?” His voice was deeper now, his eyes searching yours as if he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t happening.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a slow smile. “Haven’t you?”

His silence spoke volumes. The tension in the room was palpable, the space between you charged with all the things neither of you had said for months. He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of his hesitation hanging in the air—until finally, the walls he’d built around himself crumbled.

Hotch’s hand slid to your waist, tentative at first, as if testing your reaction. When you didn’t pull away, he stepped even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours. “I shouldn’t,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your hip, though the way he looked at you said something entirely different.

You leaned in, closing the small gap between you, your breath brushing his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

That was all it took. In an instant, the restraint he’d been holding onto for so long shattered. His hand slid up your back, pulling you toward him as his lips crashed against yours, the months of tension between you igniting in a kiss that was both hungry and desperate.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly so that you were perched on the edge of the desk. His kiss was firm, controlled at first, but as you responded, matching his intensity, it deepened, the urgency between you building with every second.

His hands moved over you—up your sides, along the curve of your back—claiming every inch of you as if he was trying to make up for all the time he’d spent holding back. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss grew hotter, more demanding.

He pulled back for just a moment, his breath ragged as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “Good.”

Without another word, he kissed you again, this time deeper, more insistent, as if there was no going back now. He moved you farther onto the desk, stepping between your legs as his hands roamed your body, your lips parting for him as the kiss deepened.

The world outside his office disappeared, the only sound the soft, ragged breaths you both took between kisses. Hotch’s control had always been something he prided himself on, but now, in this moment, with you, that control was gone. The only thing left was the heat between you, the connection you had been avoiding for so long.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as he trailed slow, heated kisses along the side of your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. The feel of him, so close and unrestrained, made your mind race, the fantasy you had harbored for so long now becoming a reality.

When you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” his movements paused for just a second. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath ragged as he took you in—your flushed skin, the hunger in your eyes. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark and filled with desire.

“Is this what you imagined?” Hotch asked softly, his voice thick with heat as his hands slowly slid up your thighs, teasing, testing your resolve. He lingered close, the teasing tone in his words a rare show of vulnerability mixed with control.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat as the intensity of the moment deepened. “It’s better,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly, your fingers tangled in his shirt as you tugged him closer. “But I was hoping we’d get to… the next part of my fantasy.”

Hotch’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, and he let out a low, deep hum, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “The next part?” he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips as you held his gaze, the tension between you electric. “I’ll show you,” you breathed, your voice filled with a teasing edge, daring him to let you take control.

Hotch’s eyes flashed with a mixture of amusement and desire, and he shifted slightly, his hands roaming back to your waist, pulling you closer. “Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, “show me.”

The challenge was clear. He wasn’t going to stop you. He was going to let you guide him through the very fantasies you had imagined on so many long nights.

And with that, whatever was left of the restraint he’d been clinging to dissolved completely.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

[boldlyvoid]

Come Together

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

Warnings: angst, fighting, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, Aaron had a crush on her while married. why he and haley broke up, miscarriage mentions, divorced Aaron, flirting, teasing, kissing, fingering, hate sex, p in v smut, rough sex, no condoms used

Word Count: 4.8k

Penelope is usually the one to plan holiday parties… but after last year's spiked punch— that ruined a lot of upper agents' sobriety, which wasn’t her fault at all, the director delegated to having two random people plan it together. He pulled names from a hat that just happened to be Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was happy to do it, and he was fine with doing it… they just weren’t happy about doing it together. The two agents couldn’t stand each other and it goes all the way back to being in the same year at the academy. 

They were tied for the top of the class, duking it out to be the chosen one for Agent Rossi’s new right-hand man. And of course, it went to a man. It didn’t matter to them that she was fantastic at what she did, or that her final score was 0.2% higher than his. He was a man so he got it. 

She got a job in CARD which, she liked, it was still an opportunity to solve cases and bring kids home to their parents… she just had to work with the BAU more than she liked and take orders from them. And then Rossi left, Gideon stepped down and Aaron Hotchner was the fucking Head of the BAU. 

She was taking orders from him. Him and his goon squad of pretty people he picked over her. 

She would’ve pushed everything aside and dealt with him, she would’ve mended things if he accepted her into the team. But he never did. After 5 applications and being looked over for everything while he hired younger and younger, she finally gave up and started to hate his guts even more. 

Now she’s in the elevator, pushing the button for floor 6 and shaking the thoughts of strangling him out of her head so she can deal with him for half an hour. He’s always so busy that she’s been waiting all week just to talk about this stupid fucking party, and the only time he has is at 8:30 pm on a Friday when she should be at home. 

She walks right into the bullpen, up the stairs and knocks on his door. “come in?” He calls. 

“Hey,” she says with a deep sigh. “Can we talk about the party?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, waving her in. “Come sit, I already have some ideas.” 

“Okay…” she sits down in front of him, ignoring all his plaques and accolades and staring down at her clipboard. “I called around and there are 3 places available that are big enough to hold us, on the 3rd Saturday of the month.” 

“Awesome, I already called a friend of mine with a Christmas tree farm and acquired 3 trees— Douglas furs, all pretty and big, we’ll just need a ceiling over 12 feet to house them,” he explains. 

“And who’s going to decorate them?” She asks. 

He shrugs, “We’ve got a big budget, we can hire someone to do it.” 

“Who did Penelope use?” 

“Herself,” he smiles that devilishly condescending smile. “I’m sure if we ask she’d want to help out again. She loves Christmas.” 

“Did you ever figure out who spiked the punch last year?” She asks, genuinely feeling sorry for Penelope. 

Penny was the only one on the team that she actually liked. 

He nods, “Dax Cooper up in counter-terrorism.” 

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.” 

“Worse than me?” He teases. “Seriously, when are you going to stop being mad at me?” 

“When you admit you hate me!” She fights back. “I did nothing to you. You’re the one who conspired with Dave and got hired here and then you purposely lost all my applications and never let me know why you wouldn’t even interview me.”

“I didn’t lose them, I put them to the side,” he shrugs. “You weren’t ready to be on our team.” 

“But the walking calculator and teen Mrs. USA are?” She laughs.

“Reid and JJ are wonderful assets,” he snaps, jaw tight and eyes full of fury. “This is why I don’t want you. You wouldn’t be a team player. Not until you get rid of the attitude and accept that this job is about more than numbers. Yes, they’re young, yes you beat me by a fraction of a percent, but that doesn’t mean you have what it takes to do what we do.” 

“I look at cases full of missing, dead and raped kids all day, how is that any different?” She honestly can’t believe it. 

“Because you look at a screen all day with facts and witness statements and I go out into the field and I talk to parents and I deal with the cops and I don’t start fights over petty bullshit,” he reminds her. “I have never called you names or signalled you out. All you do, every time we're on a scene together, is whisper and gossip and try to undermine me. You need to grow up.” 

She just shakes her head, holding in a comment that could hurt him because… and she hates to say it, but he’s right. “Whatever. Should I call one of these places and book it tomorrow or what?” 

“Do whatever you want, just give me the address so I can have the trees and decorations sent over,” he honestly doesn’t care. “I trust your judgement on a caterer, I’ll pick a band… what else would we need?” 

“Invitations, which I can handle,” she assures as she stands up to walk to his door. “I’ll cc you on everything and include the director for oversight. I’ll call you if I have questions.” 

“Y/N,” he calls out to her before she leaves. “I’m going to be looking for a new agent in a few months…” 

“And?” 

“If we can work this out by then… maybe things will be different when you apply this time?” He suggests, giving her innocent eyes and genuinely meaning it. 

“Okay.” 

—

“Did you see her last night?” Dave asks, walking right into Aaron's office with two coffees right at 8am. 

He nods, “I did… you don’t have any connections to a band I can book for Christmas, do you?” 

“The Jazz club might be able to lend us some members,” he suggests. “I’ll make a call… but I take it things went well?” 

“As well as they could go, she’s still so mad at me for getting this position over her,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to make her realize she just wasn’t ready. Our working together would’ve been awful. It would’ve—

“Ruined your marriage that just ended?” Dave teases. “I know you liked her, I saw the way you two looked at each other and I saw the teasing and the way you talked about her. She was more than a friend to you… I couldn’t have her on the team like that. I couldn’t see you go through what I did with Caroline.” 

“I hate thinking about how different things could’ve been if she was on the team though,” he shakes his head and stares off out the window. “We almost broke up back then, you know? We almost never had Jack…” 

“You know it’s perfectly normal for marriages not to work out, it doesn’t mean you loved her any less, it just wasn’t meant to be forever,” Dave reminds him. “You’re still friends, there’s no ill will. You never cheated, she didn’t either. You just grew apart. It happens.” 

“But now I’m single and I can pursue Y/N… but she hates me,” he sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop hating me.” 

“Nasty hate sex is fun,” Dave teases, making them both laugh. “I’m serious… you wouldn’t believe the women I’ve—

“I know, actually,” Aaron shakes his head. “Strauss can’t look at you the same anymore.” 

“Hey… that wasn’t hate, it was just indifference,” he teases. 

“Whatever,” Aaron can’t help but smirk. “Can you work on the band for me?”

“I will, I’ll get them to throw in some love songs too,” Dave teases on his way out. 

This was going to be interesting. 

—

Two weeks of planning and emails blow by in the blink of an eye. 

He gets ready for the party early, having to be there to check things over and meet the band and shake hands with the higher-ups as they arrive. He has a nice suit on, a red tie for Christmas and dark green socks that no one will ever notice. But he wants to look nice. 

For her. 

He walks up to her where she’s hiding in the corner. Adorning the most stunning golden dress and holding her clipboard, making sure everything gets delivered and set up in time for the start time at 7. They still have 4 hours till then, but she’s an overachiever. And a worrier. She needed this to be perfect. 

She looked perfect. Like the 2000 Holiday Barbie brought to life. He’s absolutely astounded by her beauty he just stares for a moment before he says anything. 

“You know, you look very pretty today,” he compliments but she doesn’t take it that way. 

She looks at him like he just insulted her mother. “What?” 

“That dress, it looks nice on you,” he looks her up and down. Smiling like he has some tricks up his sleeve. “What? Can’t I think you look nice? Haven’t we spent enough time talking this last month to let me compliment you?” 

“Don’t you have a wife?” She asks, disgusted he’d hit on her. “And a kid?” 

“We got divorced back in April,” he shrugs. “And you say you want to be a profiler, yet you haven’t looked at my hands in months?” 

She looks now, noticing that he doesn’t have a ring and the tan line that should be there is long gone, which means he’s telling the truth. “Oh… sorry.” 

“It’s better this way,” he nods, giving her a sweet smile. “Is everything going to plan?” 

She nods too, “Yeah. Just waiting on your band… please tell me they’re good?” 

He laughs, “They’re great. Dave’s got this Jazz bar he basically owns with how much money he’s spent there so they owe him one… You’ll like them.” 

“Jazz, at Christmas?” She can’t believe it. “Hotch—

“Aaron,” he corrects her. “Please, for the love of god, call me Aaron again.”

“Why?” She laughs, “We’re not close.” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “You can’t tell me that before everything went down, we didn’t have something going on? We were friendly, I almost thought you had a crush on me?” 

She looks at him with a brow raised, “You thought I had a crush on you?” 

He nods, “And then you found out I was married.” 

“So you’re saying if you weren’t married we could’ve hooked up at the academy?” She asks. “Sounds like you liked me too, regardless of the wife.” 

“No—

“Be honest,” she begs, stepping into his space even more. “If things were different- if you didn’t have a wife and we fucked back then, would you have screwed me over for the job?” 

“I didn’t screw you over, I simply already knew Dave,” he finally admits after 10 long years. “I knew he was about to leave, he knew Gideon didn’t want to be in charge. He wanted someone to run the whole unit who wouldn’t choke— not saying you’d choke, he just knew I was already hard on the inside, I wasn’t going to lose my mind with all the shit we see.” 

“You could’ve put in a good word for me, Aaron, I would’ve been fine working under you. I would’ve loved even just an office job in the BAU, I want to work with more than just missing kids,” she begs. “I’ve done it for 10 years, now. You know that makes me strong. You have a kid of your own, you know it’s not easy to think about them missing, let alone deal with it.” 

“I know… and I was serious, I have a new position opening up and I want to give this another try,” he admits. “I want you on the team.” 

She shakes her head, “how can I be on the team when this—” she points between them. “This, whatever this is, is going on?” 

“The sexual tension?” He teases and she swats his arm. “We’ll be fine.” 

She shakes her head. “Just, give me some time to think about it?” 

“I can do that…” 

—

She watches him from afar most of the night. Talking only when they needed to, like in front of the director or on stage while introducing the band and thanking everyone for being there… she was having a very hard time being in the same room as him with all she knew now. 

She was still mad at him. 

Mad because she’s wasted so much of her life hating him when they could’ve been happy together… but at the same time she was sad for his ex-wife. She wondered how long the marriage was loveless. Did she know? Did she suspect? Who broke it off? Does he see his son? She knew he was a good man back then but, what kind of good man has a crush on someone else while married? Would he just do that to her if they got together? 

She had so many questions in her mind and they wouldn’t shut up. 

He approaches her again while she’s deep in thought, staring at the floor while she sips on a drink she doesn’t even like. 

“Having fun?” He asks. 

She shakes her head, “No.” she puts her drink down on the table just behind her and turns back to him as he begins to speak.

“Something not going according to pl—

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me you like me?” She snaps. “I was so okay with hating you for the rest of my life because I couldn’t be on the team I always wanted to join and then you tell me you like me? That if you didn’t have a wife you’d want to be with me back then?” 

He steps more into her space so they can keep their voices down and between each other, “because you deserve to know.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” she fights back. “You were never worried about me being too immature for the team, you were scared you’d end up cheating on your wife with me. I didn’t even know you had a wife until I developed feelings for you. You never wore your ring to class, we spent every day sitting together in class or at the library and you came back to my dorm a few times… you pursued me as much as I was pursuing you and then you made it my fault.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he bows his head, ashamed. “My wife and I weren’t in a good place, we were talking about getting separated… then she got pregnant.” 

“I thought Jack was only—

“We lost a couple babies before him,” he admits. “I didn’t want to be like my dad. I didn’t want to knock her up and leave her so I stayed. I stayed but I wasn’t a good dad anyway. I was always at work, I missed important things with my son and she was the one to end it because she deserved someone who wanted to be home with her and my son deserved to grow up knowing his dad wasn’t always going to be there but loves him enough to be as present as possible when he is home. I couldn’t be that when I was with his mom. we’re so much better apart, I love having weekends alone with my son and doing things we like and not worrying about fighting with his mother in front of him. And she’s happier now with her new boyfriend and Jack's happy with the prospect of a stepdad who can step up in all the areas I lack.” 

“That’s a really mature thing to do for him,” she manages to give him a small, press-lipped smile. “Still doesn’t make me feel better about what you did to me.” 

“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth and that I’m sorry for so long, but when we’re together it’s always a fight. I can never get an honest minute with you, you always just come in guns blazing and my instinct is to tease you back,” he admits. “I am sorry. I wish things were different. I would like to start over if you’d allow me to.” 

“I don’t want a job on your team,” she says, stepping in even closer. Close enough to kiss him. “I can’t work with you like this.” 

“Why?” He smirks. 

“Because Strauss hates you enough as is without you fucking your subordinate,” she whispers. “I’m not throwing myself under the bus… just to be under you.”

He lunges for a kiss, pressing his lips against hers as he cups her face. She backs up slightly in surprise, bumping into the table behind herself. Aaron’s instincts are sharp, he reaches behind her and steadies it so the drink doesn’t crash against the floor and draw more attention to them. She knows the few people in this corner are already looking at them, but she doesn’t care. 

This is a kiss she’s waited a decade for. 

Her hands go inside his suit jacket, she reaches around to grasp his back and pulls him flush against herself. They break the kiss just to breathe, going in for another and another until their tongues meet and they’re the odd couple making out in the corner of the party. 

His hand slips from her cheek to her jaw, along the side of her neck and then she pulls away, “not here,” she reminds him they’re in public and he can’t touch her anywhere he wants to. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “How long do we have to stay here?” 

“I have to stay for shutdown tonight,” she sighs. “But…. Come with me.” 

She pats his side and moves past him, leading him out of the little corner they’re in and towards the main room. He follows her up a staircase, past people they both know and respect and they catch a few eyes but, she puts on a fake pissed-off look and they think she’s leading him somewhere to yell at him… cause that’s what they do. 

“Hey man, where are you going?” Derek asks as they pass him and Penelope sharing a plate of hors d’oeuvres. 

He’s quick on his feet, “One of the vendors fucked up, we have to chat with their boss and discuss how they can make it up to us.” 

“Oh, damn, well… have fun,” he teases. Letting them go on down the small corridor towards some offices. 

She leads him to the only open office she has access to, flicks on the light, lets him in and locks the door behind them. He’s quick to crowd her space, press her up against the door and grip her chin to tilt her attention up toward his eyes once more. She’s back inside his suit jacket, he’s so toasty-warm in there she can only imagine what it’ll be like to be naked with him.

“What were you saying about fucking up and making up for it?” She teases him. 

He smirks, “I will… but first we need to find a way to release all that pent-up frustration we have against each other.” 

She tries her best not to laugh, just shaking her head with a smile as she lets out a little huff, “Ah yes, fuck me like you hate me so we can restart fresh.” 

He cups her face with both hands, eyes darkening with lust, “you’ve been such a brat for so long.” 

“And I’m sure you know the cure for that?” She teases, pulling him in closer. One of her legs slips out of the slit of her dress and she brings it up to wrap around his hip, he’s quick to drop one of the hands from her cheek to grip her thigh. 

“I do,” he whispers, his voice so deep it makes her stomach drop with anticipation. 

He kisses her abruptly, she grips his back pulling him as if they could possibly get any closer but they can’t. Not yet. He grinds against her as their tongues meet again, his hand on her leg goes a little higher until he’s gripping her ass. The hand on her cheek starts to slip again, caressing her chest, she lightly moans into his mouth at the feeling. He’s everywhere, boxing her in against the door, but she wants more. She wants him buried deep inside of her, pounding her against the table over there, letting her know just how much he’s wanted her this whole time. 

He kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck, letting her catch her breath just to knock it all out of her again when he starts to lightly suck on her skin. “Aaron, don’t you fucking dare,” she scolds him. 

“I won’t,” he speaks against her, just lightly nipping and sucking at her skin on his way down to her cleavage. 

She pulls her hands out from inside his jacket to roam his shoulders until one hand ends up at the nape of his neck to play with his hair. Her head is tossed back against the door, and he kisses every inch of available skin on her chest. 

He reaches down and gets both of his hands under her ass, making her jump up so he can carry her. Still kissing her neck, he moves them over to the table and sets her down. She’s just the tiniest bit taller now, he kisses her cheek again, looking her in the eye once more as he spreads her legs and runs his fingers along her thighs, realizing now she has nylons on. His hands go further, towards her aching cunt, he grips her thighs while both thumbs play with the seam of her nylons. 

“I’m gonna rip these,” he announces, finding the weakest part of the seam and tearing it open enough to fit his cock through, without completely ruining them. He moves her thong to the side and drags his index finger over her clit. “You’re fucking soaked…”

She tosses her head back, both hands gripping the table like her ice depends on it when two of his fingers plunge into her. “Oh, fuck,” she moans a little too loud. 

Attaching his lips to her neck again, he sucks on her pulse point while fucking her on his fingers. It’s hard and quick, covering the palm of his hand with her slick as his thumb rubs her clit. She’s always known his hands would be good for this, if nothing else.

“Please, Aaron? Oh my god,” She starts to beg.

“Words, princess,” he teases against her neck, teeth grazing her skin, his breath hot, it sends a shiver down her spine. 

“Wanna cum,” she whispers, breathy and so close. “On your cock.” 

“Okay,” he pulls out, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm up to his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth with a groan. His cock twitches between them, jumping with excitement. 

She whines again while he undoes the zipper and tugs his cock out, “please?” 

“Hold on,” he spreads the excess wetness over his cock, stroking himself twice while biting his tongue. It clearly felt so fucking good but she knew her tight cunt was going to be better. 

He slips in slowly and her grip changes, letting go of the counter, she wraps her legs around him and grips his back with her fingernails dug into the skin. “Better?” He whispers into her ear. 

She whimpers when he doesn’t move, feeling so full, “fuck me, please? Fuck me the way I deserve.” 

He hums, kissing her cheek before looking into her eyes, all watery and blown out, her mascara started to run a bit. He tilts his head to the side, “how hard?” 

“Hard,” she looks him dead in the face. 

He slips out, pulls her off the table and turns her around so her chest is against the cold hardwood table-top and flips her dress skirt up and out of the way. He rips her nylons even more, all the way up the back so her ass is exposed. He takes her ass cheeks in his hands and spreads her apart, amazed at how her pussy clenched in anticipation. 

“Please,” she whined, almost stomping her feet with desperation. 

He slams into her without warning, making her gasp loud enough to be heard by anyone wandering the hallway outside.

He pulls out a bit and slams back into her again and again and again until the noises she’s making are complete nonsense. She whines and moans and leans against the table for dear life while pushing back against him. He slaps her ass a few times, making the sound reverberate around the room like an echo. 

He needs more friction, so his thrusts get less powerful and more rhythmic, he uses her like a toy bouncing her on his cock like a rag doll. She felt like her main purpose in life was to be fucked by him like this, it felt so good, it felt incredibly right, and she loved every fucking second of it. All those years of fighting paid the fuck off.

He slams into her cervix over and over, the head of his cock kissing the puckered spot inside again and again. Her hungry cunt sucks him in so deep, never wanting him to leave, and he can tell she’s close just from the way she clamps around him like a vice. He reached around to her stomach and drags his hand down her mound to rub her clit with his middle finger. The rhythm barely matches, but she loves the way it feels. It’s unpredictable, it’s all under his control, she just sits there and takes it like the good girl he’s raised her to be. 

“Cum on the cock you hate so much,” he insists, “I wanna feel it. I want you to cover my cock in your cum before I fill you up to the fucking brim.” 

Too fucked out to really respond she reaches one hand behind her back so he’ll hold it. He intertwines their fingers and leans forward to kiss her shoulder as his hips snap against hers with force. She starts to shake, her legs barely able to keep her up as her orgasm hits her and rattles through her body. He feels the spasm from the inside, her cunt flutters as she releases all the built-up tension in her body She’s so fucking tight he’s barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he topples over her on the table. 

He fucks into her as deep as he can go and then stills. She can feel rope after rope of his cum pump into her, they can hear the dribbles on the floor between them as it overflows and drips out of her, along with her own. 

He kisses her back, breathing hard against her. She’s just trapped there under him, legs quaking in her heels, “holy fuck?” 

“Sorry,” he pulls back and out of her, “shit… we didn’t think this through.” 

She sighs, holding her dress up so she doesn’t make a mess. “Are there any tissues in here?” 

He looks around, “Yeah… but it’s just that brown paper towel roll like we have at work.” 

“It’ll do,” she shrugs. Watching him walk over to the dispenser near the sink in the corner of the room, he takes a bit out and cleans himself up quickly, putting himself back in his boxers before her gets some more.

He leans her forward again, kneeling behind her, he cleans her up to the best of his ability and then he repositions her thong. He even wipes up the floor before tossing the paper out. “I can’t believe there was so much…” 

She laughs, dropping her dress back down and fluffing it so it looks normal again. “10 years worth of—

“Okay,” he shakes his head with a smirk, stepping back into her space, he wraps her up and kisses her forehead, “you did so good.” 

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, she feels so different. There’s so much affection in her chest as she looks up at him once more. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.” 

“I’ll stay with you here while they’re cleaning up,” he assures. “And maybe later I can show you how sorry I am for keeping secrets all these years?” 

“I’d really like that… but I’m still not working for you,” she teases. 

“I guess I’ll just have to take on more CARD cases so you’re forced to see me,” he teases right back, smiling at her. 

This is going to be fun. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia P.19 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, somebody dies, somebody leaves, and somebody ends up alone. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: criminal minds season 10, episode 13. Nelson's Sparrow.

♥ A/N: i remembered which episode this was off hand, im oddly proud lmao

♥ Word Count: 1847

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Spencer didn’t think he would have to call in that favour you’d offered him.  He was pretty sure that when you sent a little text that said, “I owe you one,” you were joking.  He waved it off like you were joking.  When he told you not to mention the favour he had done, he’d meant it.  The two of you had spent the rest of the night joking because that was all it was supposed to be.

The favour, the owing, it was all supposed to be a joke.

Then Gideon died.

Nothing really seemed funny after that.

Spencer had to leave for a bit.  He needed to go, and join his team, and solve this murder.  He also had classes to teach.  He hoped you would help him out with that, though he hated having to ask.  You didn’t deserve this burden.  You hadn’t deserved it before, either, but you kind of took it on without asking.

Now, Spencer had to ask.

He didn’t want to do it.  Like, he really didn’t want to do it.  He ended up staring at your contact in his phone for a solid forty-five minutes waffling over what the fuck he could say in this situation.  

“My old friend and mentor was murdered last night.  I need to go find the man that did it.  Cover my cases for me while I’m gone, will you?”  Felt rude.  And harsh.  And like a crazy fucking load of information that you would definitely have questions about- and while he would normally love to answer your questions, Spencer- understandably- did not feel like answering questions about this specific topic.

A simple, “We need to talk,” was way too goddamn ominous.

“I need a favour,” could be taken all kinds of wrong ways.

Something like, “Heyyyyy, so, my old mentor died and I need to go find the man that did it.  Would you mind covering my classes for me until I come back, even if that takes actual months?  K thank u byeeeee,” just felt wrong.

“A close friend of mine just passed, and I need some time.  Can you cover my classes for me while I’m gone?” Was appropriate, but it left out so much- and for some reason, Spencer didn’t like the thought of lying to you.

So, he decided to tell you in person.  

And he had regrets about that decision almost immediately.

He ended up standing by the office door like a fucking creeper for a solid five minutes.  He didn’t move, he didn’t open the door, he didn’t knock, he didn’t say anything, he just sort of stood there thinking about what the fuck he was going to say to you.

And then the door creaked open for him.

You were sitting at the desk that you shared with him, buried so deeply in your work that you didn’t even hear the door open.  You didn’t look up.  You didn’t see Spencer.  You just typed away at the computer in front of you, marking papers and adding up grades.

You seemed oddly peaceful.  At ease.  Relaxed- at least as relaxed as you could be while grading.  Spencer briefly contemplated the idea of leaving you a note.

Before he could take off to find a pen and follow in his mentor’s footsteps, you finally saw him.  Your eyes lit up, they really did, but Spencer told himself he was seeing things.

“Good morning, Dr. Pretty Boy!” you stretched yourself out slightly, giving Spencer the impression that you’d been working for a while, “Ready for more bullshit?”

For a moment, despite everything, Spencer managed to find respite from his grief.  A smile crossed his features.  He laughed at your joke- and immediately, he felt guilty for it.  His eyes went from bright to broken in a split instant.  Tears welled up in their corners.  What fucking friend was Spencer?  Gideon hadn’t been dead for two days, and here he was, laughing with his cute coworker over some cute fucking quip.

The grief crashed over his body in waves.  Reid tried to hide it.  He looked away from you, covering his mouth with his hand and trying not to actually sob in the middle of your shared office.

You saw right through him.

“Oh, pretty boy,” your voice was a whisper, and as you darted into Spencer’s field of view, he could see the concern etched into your face.  Somehow, it made him feel worse.

“Hey, hey,” you tried to hide your own panic with soothing words, briefly wondering what the fuck you could’ve done to make him cry.  Your mind came up blank.  And really, if Spencer cried easily- if he cried the way you did- you were sure you would’ve broken him by now, but you hadn’t.

Honestly?  That was probably the worst option.  That meant something was wrong- and you probably wouldn’t fix that something with an apology and a cup of coffee.

Still.  You had to do your best.

“Reid?  Spencer, honey, talk to me,” you reached out, lightly placing your fingers on his elbow- enough touch to comfort, but hopefully not enough to make him uncomfortable.

He didn’t say anything, but for a moment, he looked at you.  His eyes were full of unshed tears.  You could feel your heart drop through you before it shattered somewhere deep inside.  Without another thought, your grip on Spencer’s arm changed from a light graze to an undeniable hold.

When you spoke, you sounded panicked.  You said his name and Spencer could practically feel it- like ice down his spine, like the feeling of falling just as your body goes to sleep.  Ironically, it woke him up.

“Gideon’s dead.”

You tried to find a response to that, but the words escaped you.  Mostly because you didn’t know who that was.  Spencer saw the confusion on your face, and with a deep breath, he offered you the kindness of elaboration.

“He was- he got me into the FBI.  He was important and now he’s dead.”

“Shit,” you brought your other hand up to hold his arm, “Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

“I have to go.  I have to find the person that did this.”

You tried to hide your shock at the revelation that Spencer’s friend hadn’t just died- Gideon had been murdered.  And Spencer wanted to solve the case.  

What choice did you have but to support him?  In his place, you would want to do the same thing- you just wouldn’t have the qualifications for it.  Spencer, however, was part of the FBI.  He could help solve this case, legally and responsibly.  You had to let him go.

“Then find them.  Don’t worry about your classes, I’ll cover them-”

“You-” he cut himself off with a broken laugh, “You didn’t even let me ask.”

“You don’t have to.  I know you would do the same for me- even if you wouldn’t, I like talking shit about the FBI to your students.  It’s fun for me, that's how I have fun.  Now go,” you let one of your hands run up his arm, “Get out of here, solve some crimes, and legally get whoever did this behind fucking bars.”

Spencer put one of his hands over yours.  You took the initiative and laced your fingers together.  The two of you stared for a moment, focusing on nothing but your joined hands.

“I’m sorry,” he broke the silence- not by much.  His voice wasn’t anything more than a whisper.

“Sorry?  For what?”

“For coming in here and crying all over you.”

“Hey, don’t apologize for that.  I cry all the time, remember?  I cry constantly.  I can start crying now, if you want me to-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he grinned, tracing tiny shapes into your skin with the tips of his fingers, “Thank you, though?  Is that the appropriate thing to say?  Thank you?”

“Thank you works for me.”

“Then, thank you.”

Silence flowed over you again, curling around your bodies like some sort of mist.  For a moment, the universe stilled, preserving the two of you in a tiny soundless bubble of space and time.

“Go kick some criminal ass, pretty boy.  Responsibly.  And then come back here, okay?”

“I will.  I promise.”

“Good.  Because otherwise, I will turn your students into my little minions, and you’ll never get them back.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With a final grin, you pulled back.  Spencer did the same.  You wound your arms around yourself and squeezed.  The air in the office dropped a few degrees.  Spencer’s hands twitched,  tapping a nervous pattern into his thigh.

“I’ll see you later, (L/N).”

He stepped back, moving slowly.  When he reached the doorway, he turned and headed down the hall at regular Spencer-speed.  You just stood in the office like an idiot.  For the second time that week, Reid had stunned you to silence.

The first time, when he brought your student’s paper to the community center, you were stunned by the kindness he displayed.  The Spencer you knew was usually smarmy petty little shit.  He had his moments (such as getting stabbed to protect you and sharing his office with you when yours got all haunted) but for the most part, he was a bit of a prick!

In that moment, though, Reid did something kind and considerate.  He took care of someone who needed it.  He reached out to a former inmate with compassion and empathy, and even though Reid had worked for the FBI, you wanted to bring him to the community center with you every goddamn Monday for the rest of time.  That little action had exposed his heart to you- and yeah, most people would argue that the whole “taking a knife” thing was a better demonstration of character, but for whatever reason, this was what stunned you.

The second time he’d stunned you, he’d done it by leaving, and lord, this time was worse.  This time the shock didn’t feel like butterflies swarming through your organs.  It felt like fear.  Like an unknown future was running at you with malevolent intent.

At one point, you had wanted this.  You wanted Spencer to leave, but now?  The fucker had carved out a space for himself right in the middle of your life.  He’d built a little niche between your fourth and fifth ribs and moved right into you.  You had functioned without him when he was in the hospital, but you had always figured he would come back.  This was an indefinite leave of absence.  This was an indefinite leave of absence after you had warmed to Spencer, after he had shown you (in multiple ways) that he could be kind.

You finally came back to your body, still feeling a slight numbness in your hands.  You moved to the doorway just in time to watch Reid turn around the corner and vanish from sight.  

“I’ll see you,” you said- though you weren’t loud enough for him to hear by any means, “Reid.”

Behind you, a couple books fell from their shelves.  You didn’t even flinch.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

[carica-ficus]

"Harrow the Ninth"

21/02/2024

Reading progress: 507/507 (100%)

Read through since last update: 157

Didn't think I'd cram the last part into one post, but here we are anyway. These last 150ish pages were... All over the place. In a good way!

Final notes:

Oh, there she is!!! Talk about a monster under the bed.

Ok, but how casual is that scene? I know something like that was coming (I've seen some fanart, but knew too little to know who it was about, just that Harrow and Ianthe would be peeking under the bed), but it's just so normal. I like it. Kinda eerie because it's not presented as scary.

Of course Ianthe didn't see it. Don't worry Harrow, I believe you.

Yeah, ok. It makes sense that Ortus was just fulfilling other to kill Harrow. His reasoning for it just wasn't strong enough. "You're a liability." Just like everyone else.

Oho! Here we go! Epiparodos! (Whatever that means.)

NUNLET??? 🥺🥺 That's such a cute word.

Ok, the lobotomy. Right. Also saw a fanart spoiler for it, totally forgot it was coming. I thought it was gonna happen later on? In any case. Ok. Yup. This happened.

Harrow NOVA. There we go. The other Harrow finally revealed by her full name. Though I applaud Muir, I haven't even noticed we never got her last name. Gorgeous and genius writing, through and through.

HAHAHAHAHAHA love how Harrow did the typical "I am small. Therefore, I will be a quick and murderous machine" but Muir decided to break up the cliché by saying she discovered that at the ripe age of 5. Man, I love this book. And I love Harrow as a character.

"What's that, you egg?"

Dying. 😂

Ok, gotta say, chapter 40 lost me.

I think... I got it? I might need to read the remaining pages for all of this to settle down, but this is much less complicated that I thought it would be.

What is the meaning of love if not sacrificing every single memory of a person in order to save them? 😭

Of course, it was not a dream. That would be too easy. The bubbles make perfect sense.

I know I said Ortus was annoying when quoting the Noniad, but I really like him as a character. And by that I mean how Muir has given him more depth and allowed him to grow. Which also made the scene where he hugs Harrow so impactful. 🖤

Ok, the Ortus thing was unexpected. And I'm excited to learn what it's all about.

But first. The Sleeper.

UGH! I love how considerate Gideon is with Harrow's body. Sure, she's a little awkward in it and puts out a dirty joke or two, but she's just trying to be respectful and useful. Also the way she's so worried over any and all her injuries, even though she knows they'll all heal? So fucking cute.

Protesilaus took Dulcinea in his care when she fell ill. That's so cute. 🥺

Oh, hell yes! Gideon stepped the fuck up. Time for Ianthe to meet her fucking match.

(I love how protective Gideon is ggghhhgghggh)

Man, I missed Gideon so much.

MATTHIAS NONIUS!!!!!!! :O

(Such a cool scene!!!!!)

You know what? After everything that happened, my reaction to finding out Gideon is God's daughter was just "Ok. Cool."

Cue John's corny dad joke. Love it.

Also I wouldn't have guessed they were related based on their eyes. Sure, John's eyes were mentioned multiple times, but they're silver and Gideon's are gold, so I wouldn't have put two and two together just by that. But! It fits. It's foreshadowed. It works. So yeah. Sure. Love it.

I knew it! I knew that he had a cavalier! I knew that he was a Lyctor! Hell yeah!

So much stuff happens at the end. I just kept on reading, without spending much time on commentating. I needed to know what happens and tbh, I have no idea what I just read. But that's okay! It was fun!

Ok, all in all, the book was spectacular. I liked it even more than I did Gideon. I liked how Muir handled Harrow's grief. I liked the reveals, the mysteries, the tension and the stakes. I liked the characters and I liked how Abigail got a lot more page time. I didn't even care about her in the first book, but now I really like her. I liked Ortus too!

Now, I'm still confused... About a few things. Primarily Harrow Nona. So I'll have to read an explanation or teo about it (or you can comment on the post if you'd like to help me out). Did... Harrow Nonangesimus kept watch and narrated over what Nona was doing? As in, she was dissociating from her body after the lobotomy and experiencing everything from a distance? Or was that all Gideon? Because I feel like it wasn't. Gideon's narration style is totally different and clearly comes out at the very end, but idk. I feel like I'm missing something here or that I'm not grasping something ridiculously simple.

Anyway, I'll be reading a little more about it, but yeah. "Harrow" is done, so I'll have to get my hands on Nona! In the meantime I'll be writing out my review. 🖤

[abbatoirablaze]

Criminal Minds, Season 1, Chapter 8

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of bruises/fights.  Anxiety.  Fluff. 

Anastasia Garcia

“Penny?”

Penelope Garcia stopped dead in her tracks, and you found your brow raising purely by instinct.  Your little sister turned her head ever so slightly, and you leaned on your hand, looking at her through your blinds. 

She looked like a guilty child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  She gave you a nervous smile. 

You watched as she backtracked to your door, a bright pink and white box in her hands.

“What did you do, Pen?”

“Me?” she squeaked, disbelief in her eyes, “I-I didn’t do anything.  These are for Morgan because he got hurt again on his last case and-“

“Derek got hurt?”

This time it was the younger Garcia’s turn to raise her brow. 

“Does that sound like concern for my gorgeous hunk of handsome?” she teased, “did my cool, breezy bestie break my big sister’s icy exterior?”

You frowned, and immediately straightened yourself out in your chair, “what?  No.  I’m just-this is the second case he’s been injured on in a month.  I mean, first it was that psycho on the Davenport case, and now this?  Wh-what even happened?”

“Oh, he was just the most handsome hero ever,” she teased as she walked into your office and placed the box of baked goods on your desk before sitting in a chair herself, “he saved a baby from some crazy family annihilator.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, “what?”

“He and Gideon chased the unsub, The Fox, down to the basement, where he was known to do the killing, and the guy threw the baby at Gideon and launched himself at Morgan.  He had a pretty nasty cut on his arm, but he subdued him.”

“B-but he’s okay?”

“Right as rain, big sis!” she smiled, “you know, if you wanted to, I could say that we both picked up these desserts from Derek’s favorite bakery...”

“What game are you playing at Pen?”

“Me?” she smirked even more, “I’m not playing a game.  No.  I’m just trying to be nice...I was just trying to invite you to come with me to make sure Morgan is fine, and say that we both got him baked goods.  Like nice, caring Garcia sisters should do.”

“I’m sure that Agent Morgan is fine,” you mumbled, shaking your head at the idea, “just like I’m sure he’ll be perfectly fine with one Garcia sister checking in on him.”

“If you insist,” she sighed, picking up her box as she removed herself from your chair, “but I’ll have you know, he asked about you when you came back from your last mission too.”

“Pen-“

“That’s all I’m going to say on the matter,” she giggled, cutting you off, “but if the two of you keep playing cat and mouse around me, I’m going to smack you both.”

“It’s not-“

“Au revoir, dear sister!” she exclaimed as she walked out of your office, “I have desserts to deliver.”

Your boyfriend glared at you, “Ana...”

“I’m being honest, Brent,” you whimpered, pulling your wrist from his grasp, “nothing happened between me and probationary Agent Tyler.  He was just being friendly.”

“Friendly,” he scoffed, “yeah right!”

“Maybe you should stop being so paranoid, Brent,” you spat, “really.  Nothing happened.”

“Nothing, just like Ireland?”

You felt a pull in the pit of your stomach, “we were on a break, Brent...I was on a mission.  We both had decided to see other people.  Ireland was different.”

“And you fucked some guy!”

“And you fucked any girl that looked at you right,” you hissed just as quickly in response, “what do you expect me to say, Brent?  I’ve already apologized a million times for Ian, and-“

“How can you just say his name like it was nothing?”

“Because when I left Ireland, we stopped being anything, Brent.  Ian and I-“

“HAD A KID TOGETHER!” he growled, “a kid that your own god damned sister doesn’t know about.  A kid that you left in Ireland to be raised by his father.”

“I-I couldn’t bring him back...th-they would have tried to use him ag-“

“Now who is the one that sounds paranoid?” he scoffed, cutting you off.  When you didn’t answer, he looked away from you, and his hand rubbed at his temples, “I don’t get why you are acting like this, Ana.  You’re flirting with other men.  You’re tal-“

“I’m not flirting with anyone!”

The two of you were interrupted when someone knocked on the door.  Both of your heads turned, and you felt your heart thumping wildly.

Had someone heard about your argument?

“We’re in the middle of something, Ana.  Don’t even think about getting the door.”

“We’re at work, Brent!” you reminded him, “we can finish this at home...but I’m not going to ignore someone beca-“

“If you open that door, we’re over!”

“You’re willing to throw nearly ten years down the drain because of this?  We met when we were both working for San Diego PD...we told each other tha-“

“A lot of things have happened that neither of us signed up for, Anastasia...”

The knocking on the door made your head turn once more, and you started towards it.

“Ana, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Brent.”

You threw open the door, only to be surprised by the other person standing in front of you, “D-Derek.  I mean, Agent Morgan.  What are you doing here?”

“Everything alright?” he asked cautiously, eyeing over your shoulder and giving Brent a look, “heard some noise down in the bullpen and-“

“Everything is fine, Morgan!”

“I believe I was asking the lady!” he said calmly, his gaze returning to you once more, “Anastasia, is everything alright?”

“Peachy!”

“You sure?” he pressed. 

You felt your jaw clenching together before you could stop it, all the misplaced anger you’d had from your boyfriend rushing towards your little sister’s best friend, “yes, Morgan.  I said that I was fine.  Now, if you are done interjecting, me and my boyfriend have a conversation to get back to.”

“It’s fine!” Brent murmured, quickly coming up to your side only to press a kiss to your temple, “I’ve got to get back to work anyways, baby.  Have a few files to sort through.”

“We weren’t-“

“We can talk about it at home...like you said.”

You watched as your boyfriend pushed past the other agent, leaving the two of you alone.  You felt hollow as you stared blankly at the door; part of you wondering, hoping, that he would come back.

“Ana, are you alright?” Derek asked you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shying away from his outstretched hand, “I don’t need your help, Morgan.  And I didn’t ask you to come in playing my knight in shining armor.  So maybe next time when you think about doing something like that, you don’t!”

“Ana, I-“

“Go away, Derek!” you spat, brushing past the agent as you stormed out of your office.

“Baby girl, are you in here?”

“Ready and waiting like a genie for your beck and call!” she teased, looking over her shoulder.  Penelope frowned when she saw the look of sadness across her best friend’s face, “Derek...what’s wrong?”

“I went to see your sister earlier, because she and Brent were arguing...” he told her simply, “granted, I was the only one in the bullpen, but it seemed like a pretty serious thing.  I was starting to hear it even though the door was closed.”

Penelope gave him a sad look, “yeah...they do that sometimes...”

“They do?”

“Yeah...”

“How long have they been like that though?”

“Honestly, since before our parents died.  Mom and dad never liked him much because he was a bit controlling, but she didn’t seem to mind it.  They met when they were in the academy together, but it really took off when she got her big break working internationally with a few drug smuggling rings,” she frowned, “when our parents died and I kind of disappeared, she worked her tail off to get ahead.  Ended up that she was able to leave behind the police department first and was picked up by Interpol to work with them for a while on a few task forces.  He gave her an ultimatum about staying or them breaking up, and she wanted to focus on her career...she was in Europe for a few years after that...I only got my tech analysist position here because she convinced Hotchner to take a chance on me.  She’d been at the FBI for a few years at that point.  And by then they were back together...but still pulling the same stunts.”

“Damn...” he sighed to himself.

Penelope shrugged, “you get used to it after a while...they’re either acting like Mr. And Mrs. Smith, no pun intended, or fighting like cats and dogs.”

“And they don’t just stay broken up?”

Penelope’s brow raised, “why do you ask, Derek?”

“Just curious,” he shrugged, lying about his intentions, “I mean she works for the BAU and does some profiling on her own when she picks the cases...so it’s ironic that she ignores all those red flags.”

“Derek, do you like my sister?” Penelope gasped, her mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.  Derek took a step back and scoffed at her.  She smiled and pointed at him with the furry end of her pen, “you do, don’t you?  You have a crush on a Garcia...though, I will admit, I thought it would be me that you fell head over heels for, not Anastasia.”

“You’re talking crazy, woman.”

“And you’re still not denying it.”

“I-“

“If it makes you feel any better, she likes you too?”

“She does?”

Penelope smirked even more when she noticed his reaction changing and the fact that he’d physically taken a step forward into the conversation.  When he noticed her smirk, however, he tried to brush it off, but it was too late.

“I know for a fact that she does.”

“Oh yeah, and how’s that?”

“Oh, you don’t get to play coy with me now that I know,” she teased, “I can read you like a book, Derek Morgan, and you have a crush on my sister, just as much as I can see that she’s trying to ignore the little crush she has on you.”

Samantha Reid

“A-Aaron...what are you doing here?”

Hotchner watched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, in a small attempt to put some distance between the two of you.  He guiltily looked away, feeling embarrassed over the fact that he was instinctively reading you. 

“I-can I come in?”

You were taken back in how soft he’d spoken.  So much so, that you nearly missed the question int he first place.  His gaze found your own once more and you nearly jumped into the air at how he looked at you. 

There was something beyond the sadness in your dimmed relationship. 

There was a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen since he’d admitted to you that he wanted children and you had laughed at the idea. 

You nodded your head, shifting partially behind the door so that he could come into your apartment.  As he passed, you closed the door behind him, starting to follow him down your hallway, “I-did you want some coffee, or-“

But you were cut off when he flipped himself around, moving so fast that by the time he’d swept you up in his arms, you’d finished the work for him, because you still hadn’t stopped walking. 

The two of you stayed for a moment, him holding you in your hallway, halfway between the living room and kitchen. 

“Aaron...”

He gave a heavy sigh as his response. 

Your inner heartstrings pulled at you, and you found your own arms wrapping around his neck.  Your fingers tangled in the short hairs at the back of his neck, moving up the back of his head.  He sighed once more, and you felt the tension melting away from his body. 

“It’s okay, Aaron...” you whispered from his chest, “whatever it is, it-“

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore...” he admitted sadly.  You watched as he took a step back, but still held you close.  His normally dark brown eyes stared into your own and you noticed how glassy they were. 

The bloodshot look to them.

“Aaron...”

“We dealt with a case...he-the man was like me, Samantha...similar lifestyles growing up...and he-he turned his pain into a life of taking lives...he became the monster under the bed...everything that I fought so hard not to be...”

“Aaron, you’re not the unsub,” you pointed out, “you just said that despite how you had similar upbringings, he was the exact opposite as you...”

“It just-i just thought of Jack...what if I do everything right and he ends up like that monster?” he asked, “and because of what I do, he knows how to hide it?  And-“

“Aaron, your son isn’t going to be a serial killer or a hitman or anything that you would consider a monster...”

“You don’t know that.”

You reached up and took his face in your hands, “what I know is that he’s got an amazing father, who loves him more than anything in the world.   He is a real-life superhero...a far cry from the man that his father was.  And he fights day in and day out to make sure that his son never has to know the struggles that he dealt with, because he’s ending that string of trauma dead in its tracks.”

He gave you a soft look; the words processing and resonating with him. 

“I-I needed to hear that.”

“It was the truth, Aaron...” His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, trying to focus on the words you’d said to him.  Your hands stroked his cheeks, “hey...look at me...and say this, you are a better man than your father.”

“I am a better man than my father.”

“You will not ever let your son become a monster.”

“I will never let Jack become a monster.”

“Because you turned that trauma around and show your son what love and humility is every day.”

“Because I turn that trauma around and show him what love, and humility is every day.”

You gave him a gentle smile, your heart aching for the man who was too tough on himself in every sense of the word.  But in that moment, he was just focused on the words. 

You leaned up and kissed his jaw, “there he is...there’s the man I remember...”

“Samantha...”

You melted once more at the way that he said your name. 

While you didn’t move, your body became hyper aware of your situation. 

How your arms were wrapped around him and how you’d just kissed his jaw.  How his hands were still around your waist, holding onto you for dear life.  

Your breathing got shallow, and you felt like your body was getting hotter. 

You caught it as his eyes shifted to your lips once before catching your gaze once more. 

Your stomach fluttered. 

You felt your eyes closing, and the need to feel his touch yet again.  And soon enough, you felt his own hands capturing your face between his hands, and his lips feverishly press against yours.

S1, E9, P1

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 8 of Gideon the Ninth

So, confirmed from the non-Ninth prayer that the Emperor is in fact God/John? It also seems to describe him as "The Lyctor divinely ordained", but, as we finally learn in this chapter, the Lyctors are actually a different set of people who seem to be not quite as immortal as the Emperor, and if *he* was "divinely ordained", that means there must be some other god somewhere who ordained him, right? Is that not what those words mean? And now I know why Gideon thinks Harrow is going to live forever. I am placated

The difference in the prayers is interesting. It reminds me of when, coming from a Reform background, my parents enrolled me in a Jewish Day School when I was growing up and then I went to prayers in the morning, and some of them were the same, and some of them were subtly different, and there were just also entire sections of the prayer book that were completely, 100% new to me. Like, "praised be to God who gives life to the dead", "praised be to God for not making me a woman", these are things we say, here? Where are the Mothers of the Torah in this prayer, what is this new prayer about, oh, it is praising God for drowning the Egyptians, that's lovely. Turns out the Reform movement made a lot of (very good, actually) changes to the prayer book, and absolutely no one warned me about this. So anyway, I unexpectedly relate directly to this

I did sort of figure that that prayer might be specific to the Ninth, though, since it mentions the Locked Tomb, which was established as an actual thing on Pluto, and also the Locked Tomb is mentioned in the name of the house in the Dramatis Personae

I absolutely love the sheer trolling audacity of the priest being all "Hey, you guys are here to learn how to become demigods. No one actually has any idea how that's going to work, good luck!" This sounds like a perfect recipe for total chaos

I have to take some umbrage at the whole thing of Gideon not knowing what a day/night cycle is because of the relative rates of the spin of the planets. Pluto's day is only 6 days long. At the beginning of the book, Gideon said there was not going to be light for *months*, which I took to mean that they were somewhere in the arctic circle (which is not that odd, since Pluto has an axial tilt that means that like half the planet is in one of the arctic circles), but like I said before, I don't feel like that particular paragraph actually makes a lot of sense with Pluto's orbit anyway, unless some words are being used in a very strange way. So anyway, I think if Gideon is confused about day/night cycles, it's because she's used to living in the arctic circle and logically could not possibly have ever seen actual sunlight at any point in the past 18 years, and is nothing to do with how slow Pluto spins, and Harrow is being just as dumb as Gideon here, which is frankly impressive

We have reached Act 2, and I think this is the last post on this I make before I get on a plane on Monday. I am queuing this for tomorrow (Monday), but my plane is not until 4 so god knows I will probably be on tumblr in the meantime

Ok, wait, one last thing. I am noticing the skulls at the top of the chapters. Initially I saw the skulls and was like, ok, nine skulls go with nine houses and there are nine chapters in Act 1 and each of the nine skulls with go with each chapter in some way, but that's not how it's working. There are only eight chapters, and all of them have skull 9, except for Chapters 3, 7, and 8, which have skull 1. 7 and 8 make sense, since they take place in the First House and all the rest take place in the Ninth House. But what about Chapter 3? Why does Chapter 3 have a skull 1? Is it because that's the chapter where Harrow shared the Emperor's letter? But there was another letter in Chapter 5, and Chapter 5 has a skull 9 just like the others.

Stealth editing one more time because I just realized what the Locked Tomb prayer makes me think of:

The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut.

[ivfrankenstein]

— HOW I SEE YOU;

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!reader

— a collection of episodes that give us a glimpse of love growing over the years, from its different sides, from beginning to end — 1. 

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: “I cling to you like the tear clings to the eye, like the knife clings to the wound.” [based on 4x15]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slowburn, mentions of violence (typical cm stuff).

𝐀/𝐍: that’s maybe chaotic, but I hope u’ll like it <3 gif: @hotch-girl inspirations edit 📠

[2009, february]

Of what happened in those 20 minutes, she could only remember the feeling at the end — a relaxing inexplicable sense of relief; like after a grueling race, when you're at the finish line you don't care if you won or lost or how you did it, you're just grateful that it's over.

He was frightened away, and in his haste he must have thought she was dead. Perhaps, that's because she stared motionless for a while into the dark sky above them. She found it amusing, at the end of the hour — it was 5:20 when she left the station, seven minutes later she was walking here, 20 minutes it lasted, now about 5:47 — the park was beautiful, warm, the grass was a little long; she felt it with her left hand and touched the damp asphalt with her right.

Voices were heard distantly, she saw the red light from the ambulance, and Hotch's face was the first one she recognized among the others.

“Y/N, you’re safe now,” he looked anxious — the way she rarely saw him, “They’ll take you to the hospital, you’ll be all right.”

She knew Hotch needed to hear a word from her, but she could barely move her mouth, just stared at him and blinked. Blood from her nose got on her tongue.

“God,” Hotch wiped the trickle over her lip with his hand, “Don’t..” his own lips moved silently.

Y/N reached up to his forearm, hardly perceptible squeezing it — it wasn't that bad, she wanted to say.

She remembered him praying.

“Did he say why her?” Aaron was focused, keeping his eyes on the board; to keep so much in his head he had to constantly strain himself physically — the body movements served as a defense mechanism for him as much as anything else.

“He didn’t know Y/N’s one of us, he just met her on the street,” Rossi didn't want to tell everything he got from the guy: I have no idea why, I see a guy walking down the street with a stupid look on his face and I want to bush him over the head.

Hotch couldn’t get the river of blood on Y/N’s face out of his mind; he broke away from the photos of the victims and turned to Dave, “Her jaw is dislocated from hitting the ground, she goes with metal plates unable to speak for the next six weeks and will only eat liquid food. There’s a wire mark on her neck and I want to believe it won’t stay with her for the rest of her life.”

He blurted it out in the single breath, but never once called Y/N by name, “I know that, Aaron,” Rossi waited before continuing, “I also know that it might remind you of Kate–”

“She’s not Kate,” he cut him off.

“She is not,” Dave meets his gaze, “It was you who told me not to take this case personally this afternoon,” Rossi read it well — the fact that Hotchner's good friend died in his arms was still fresh, and the possibility of it happening again with Y/N was too much. 

“What did he say?” back again, professional and collected, he wants to know.

“That he liked her, that she looked like his girlfriend, that’s all,” Rossi admitted after all, “Aaron, Y/N’s a strong agent, she hurt him just as much.”

“Could that even be enough?” at times he was overcome with rage toward all the scumbags they were dealing with — he know about that part of himself, but the rage had a tendency to escalate into something more when it affected his team, and felt so personal. 

Hotch let Dave take a couple of steps toward the door before he stopped him, there was one single doubt about what had happened, beyond what he had no control over, there was something he could change. 

“Rossi, Gideon once told me that I was doing wrong by always keeping Y/N out of the field,” Aaron said, “that as a mentor I should have stopped holding her long ago.” His frown didn't translate all the confidence in Gideon's comment, and that's why he needed an outsider's perspective.

Dave exhaled heavily, he really was sorry, at the realization that Hotchners post carries so much responsibility for people you already consider family, “As I remember, when Y/N first joined you, she didn't need to have field agent skills, right?” no answer was required, Rossi already knew about that, “You may not agree, but I think Jason is the one who should have taken care of this issue. If we're talking about a mentor.” Hotch remained in a waiting silence, and Dave went on, “I’ll explain only by asking, because maybe my eyes are failing me, but isn't Y/N your partner whenever we got a case?” 

It wasn't something Aaron would normally think about, but it was true, “I suppose, yes, she is.”

“Then make this decision as her partner. If you think she could do more than she did, then send her to retraining,” he added in the end, “only after you discuss it with her.”

Aaron nodded briefly in response. What else could he say that hadn't been said before? 

His silent panic, which had enveloped him at home, this evening turned into silent despair at the service. Now he was, once again, left alone struggling against himself with the necessity of going to family, and the inability to put all the emotions down. Ultimately, he knew in advance that he ended up staying at the hospital, with Y/N, because of an equally overwhelming need to be there, too.

[secretsofblackthornhall]

From the diary of Tatiana Lightwood. December 27, 1873

I hate Will Herondale.

I hate Will Herondale.

I HATE Will Herondale.

How could I have ever felt anything but loathing for him, with his ridiculous name and his infernal Welsh accent and his preposterous handsome face! Ugh! The horrid monster read my old diary, OUT LOUD at the Institute Christmas party. On the stage, in the ballroom. To the entire Enclave.

Every single entry where I’d written my name as Mrs. Tatiana Herondale. Every bit where I wrote poetry about his absurdly blue eyes, how I shudder now to recall it! How I wish Elise Penhallow had never stopped playing the spinet and given him an opening to start reading OUT LOUD. I wish she was still playing the spinet now and for the rest of eternity and that Will Herondale had been utterly drowned out by the racket.

The HUMILIATION, it is not to be borne. He is a MONSTER. Gideon just stood there like a lummox. Gabriel had the decency to attempt to defend my honor and got his arm broken, which was the least he could do, really.

I suppose it is better that I have discovered Will Herondale’s TRUE NATURE and EVIL INTENT now rather than later. But oh, couldn’t I have found it out in a different way? A whispered cruel comment—an act of brutishness at someone else’s expense—but no. The whole Enclave just standing there gaping at me and whispering, whispering.

Of course Father told me in the carriage on the way home that I had disgraced us all and the good name of Lightwood, too. Gabriel sulked for the entire journey, even though the healing runes must have taken away any pain he was in, so there was no need for him to be so peevish. None of this was about him. Gideon took my hand and said, “Don’t fret, Tati. Everyone will forget about this before you know it.” I looked out the window of the carriage and ignored him. What could he possibly understand about the injury that has been dealt to me? Nothing, for he is a lunkhead.

When we arrived at Chiswick I thought about burning the diary, for I could no longer stand the sight of the thing. Will ruined it. I went up to my room and ripped the pages from the spine, then tore each page to pieces. I looked at the fire, which had plenty of hot coals, but I could not bring myself to consign the remains of the diary to the flames, whether they had disgraced our family name or not. Those pages were full of my fascinating ruminations and ideas and observations—about the London Enclave, about my father’s heroic exploits, about the precise shape of Elise Penhallow’s nose and what it revealed about her terrible character—and I found I did not want to see those words curl and vanish into ash. Instead I stuffed the mutilated pages into my green silk purse and tiptoed down the corridor. I hid them in the old mousehole behind one of my father's paintings of demons doing peculiar things. (I don’t know why he collects them, but then I suppose I have not yet developed a taste for art.) I hurried back to my room and threw the spine and covers of the book into the fire.

I am starting over with a new diary in which I will not mention W.H. at all. Except now. This is the last time.

But I will make him pay. No matter how long I have to wait.

[bi-bard]

Back-Up - Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner Imagine (Criminal Minds)

Title: Back-Up

Pairing: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 1,202 words

Warning(s): mentions of abuse (mental, physical)

Summary: After a case gets over late, the B.A.U team is stuck in the town their case was in. When they go to grab dinner before heading to bed, a few familiar faces stumble into same restaurant. Luckily, they weren't going to go through it alone.

Author's Note: Y'all are dumb if you think I'll pass up the chance to roast the shit outta John Winchester. I'm pretty sure it's part of my brand now.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

--------------------------------

The case wasn't a problem.

It had gone well.

I wasn't even upset about having to wait until the next morning to leave. The team decided that it was going to be a great idea to go get food that night.

I thought it was going to be great.

And then, my heart dropped.

I looked up from my menu to see three familiar faces walk in. Sam, Dean... and John.

I didn't mind seeing my brothers. The three of us still talked on a normal basis. Even after I left the life, Dean and I tried to call at least once a week.

But John. I hadn't seen or spoken to him in years. I never could bring myself to do it. I didn't think he deserved an ounce of my attention after how I was treated.

It was like the mere act of seeing him again made me freeze up. I let out a shaky breath and looked away, trying to focus on the menu again.

"What's wrong," Hotch mumbled to me.

I shook my head, "Nothing."

"(Y/n)-"

"My dad's here," I muttered, knowing that he wouldn't stop pushing. "And my brothers."

Hotch was the only one that knew all of the details about my childhood. Mostly because I had a negative reaction to something he did, and he wanted to know what to avoid. He thought it would allow me to work more efficiently. He was right. Of course, he was right.

"Really," he asked. I nodded.

I looked up again to see my dad walking over.

"Shit," I whispered.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he greeted. "Nice to see you again, kid."

"Hey," I replied, trying to play nice in front of the team.

I saw Dean and Sam behind him, both looking pissed that he had walked over.

"What's this then," he asked. "A replacement family?"

"Excuse me, sir," Gideon tried to speak up. "I don't know what you're-"

"I'm talking to my kid," John cut him off.

I grimaced and stood up. I grabbed my dad's arm and dragged him outside with me. Sam and Dean followed us. We ended up in a corner of the parking lot.

"What is wrong with you," I asked. "That's my team. My co-workers. If you wanted to talk to me, you could ask to talk. You had no right to-"

"Watch your mouth," he snapped.

"Excuse me," we all looked at Hotch. None of us had even noticed that he had gotten up to follow us. "I apologize for interrupting, but I won't let you talk to one of my agents like that."

I was shocked.

The last time I had someone stand up for me was Sam standing up to John years ago. He was already in his "rebellious phase" and argued with John every day no matter what. Hotch's bluntness caught me completely off-guard.

"I think you're overstepping," John said. "This is between my family. This is my kid."

"The kid that you just tried to humiliate."

John chuckled, "Do you have fun assuming you know everything about people's families?"

"It's to my knowledge that you raised your children as soldiers and then were shocked when two of them left and went no contact," Hotch said bluntly.

"We should go inside," I whispered as I walked over to my brothers.

"Why," Dean asked.

"Because you are not going to like what you are about to watch," I said.

"Where do you have the right to judge how my kids grew up," John stepped up to Hotch.

"When I watched how much it hurt one of my agents," Hotch replied.

"That's my kid-"

"Who had to use a fake last time on their badge."

"What?"

"Even then, the effects are still there," Hotch continued. "(Y/n) can't run from what you did to them."

"I suggest you step back-"

"Do you want to know how I know you mistreated your children? When I argued with (Y/n) for the first time, they didn't try to talk back. They looked down and sat silently."

I looked down. I felt Dean touch my back.

"They can't go anywhere without checking that there's no sign of a monster and won't go somewhere if there is a sign of one," Hotch just kept listing things. "I watched them drop everything during a case to check on their siblings because God knows you wouldn't check on your children. You're too focused on whatever the next monster is."

"Listen-"

"I'm talking," he held a hand up to shut my dad up. "They have nightmares on almost every case. Not just about monsters, but of you. They tried to give Reid make-shift stitches because you told them that was the right thing to do. They lack detrimental social skills. Their own father ran off without calling them for days- wait- weeks without picking up the phone and (Y/n) was barely surprised by it. They became unhealthily codependent on their brothers, who are still in that codependent dynamic. Once, Garcia hugged (Y/n) for no reason other than hugging them, and (Y/n) sobbed because they were convinced that they didn't deserve love unless they were useful."

"I get it," John cut him off.

"Oh, and the worst one, they flinch," Hotch said. All three of us stood up a little bit straighter. "No one can make any surprise motions toward (Y/n) because they will flinch away."

John clenched his jaw. He looked over at me. I shrunk away from him.

"Don't do that," Hotch stepped in front of John's line of sight. "Don't blame (Y/n) for what you did to them."

John let out a huff and started walking away, leaving the argument for another day. Sam and Dean both hesitantly went to follow him.

"Sam, Dean," the duo stopped and looked at my boss. "Why don't you join the team for dinner?"

They both seemed confused. I looked at Hotch. He grinned at me.

"It's on me," he added.

"Boys," none of us spared John a glance.

"We... We don't want to intrude," Sam explained.

"You wouldn't be," Hotch replied. "Come on. I'm sure you'd like to know more about what your sibling does for a living."

"Uh," the boys looked at each other for a moment before Dean spoke up. "Sure. Yeah."

I smiled at them.

"Boys!"

Sam and Dean ignored John's yelling and followed Hotch and me into the restaurant. The team was sitting awkwardly, watching the door.

"Is everything okay," Elle asked quietly as Sam and Dean pulled chairs up to the table.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Umm, everyone, this is Sam and Dean. They're my brothers."

They waved at the team.

"So, you've met Hotch," I explained, pointing at each member of the team. "That's Gideon, J.J., Morgan, Spencer, and Elle."

"Nice to meet you all," Sam said. Dean nodded in agreement.

The team did everything in their power to make the boys comfortable. It seemed to work for the most part. Sam talked about college and what he was going to do before being dragged into the family business. Dean actually talked a bit about why he stuck with my dad for so long.

It was nice.

It was like two worlds colliding. And I loved it.

--------------------------------

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[can-youimagine]

Work In Progress Chapter One (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You run into a rather cute, rather smart man while planning a field trip

Chapter TW: mention of reader and Spencer being kidnapped. See Series Masterlist for series TW.

Word Count: 993

A/N: I know I said I'd wait till tomorrow to post this but so many people have liked my masterlist, so here it is!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You walk through the museum, taking notes on each exhibit. You tap the edge of your notebook as you read the description, drawing the attention of the man next to you.

“Student?” he asks.

“Teacher,” you answer. “We’ve got a field trip coming up, and I’m trying to get a feel for the place before then.”

“When I was a kid, my mom put me in a summer art program to help me meet kids my own age. Anyways, we were all assigned a painting to talk about. Once we got to the museum, we did our presentation for the class, and whatever poor soul happened to be there.”

You smile. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Obviously, you liked it.”

“Oh, I loved it. Any chance I get to talk about something without Morgan interrupting me is a great day.”

You pause when you hear the name. “You don’t happen to mean Derek Morgan?”

The man looks startled.

“Sorry, I just used to work with a Derek Morgan. I’m assuming it’s the same one.”

He slowly nods, unsure of what to do.

“Your FBI badge is showing. I wasn’t trying to scare you. You didn’t happen to start there around 2003, did you?”

“Yes?”

“So, you’re my replacement!” you exclaim. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he introduces. “I’ve heard them talk about you. You’ve left quite the impression.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Oh, definitely. I read a few of your case files when I was starting out, and wow.”

You laugh. “Thank you.”

“What made you leave?”

You’re a bit startled by his bluntness. “Y’know. Your general kidnapping, torture situation.”

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stand together for another moment before you break the silence. “I’m glad you’re still there. If you can make it through that, you can make it through anything.”

“I hope you’re right.” He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. “I should let you get back to your assignment.”

You nod. “Thanks. Your idea was great by the way. Tell everyone I said hi.”

“Will do,” he says, and he means it. He gets called on a case not long after you leave. On the jet, he sits next to Hotch and lets it slip that he met you.

“How is she?”

“She seems good. She’s teaching now.”

“Yeah. I’m glad to hear she’s still in the area.”

Derek comes over. “Who’s still in the area?”

“(L/N),” Hotch answers before Spencer has a chance to answer.

Derek sits next to him. “Damn, how is she?”

Spencer jumps to answer. “She’s good. Teaching.”

“She was always good on cases with kids. I remember one, there was a missing child. (L/N) nearly died trying to get this kid. Held him close to her, singing to him the entire time to distract him.”

Hotch chuckles at the memory. “I tried to scold her. Of course, she just rolled her eyes.”

“Can’t stop her once she sets her mind to something.”

“She said that I was her replacement. Why did she leave?” Spencer couldn’t help himself. He was still wondering what happened. Sure, no one liked being kidnapped, but between the case files he read and the way they were talking about it made it seem like you weren’t one to quit. Hell, he’d have guessed you would have had to be fired before you left.

“Not for us to tell,” Hotch responds in a clipped tone.

Morgan nods, effectively ending the conversation.

If Spencer wasn’t curious before, he sure was now. He glances up at Gideon, who he knows has been listening, but his gaze is focused on the chessboard in front of him.

He sinks back into his seat. If he hadn’t been thinking about you before, he sure was now. In fact, he spends most of the case thinking about you. So much so that as soon as he gets back, he heads straight to the museum, hoping that you are coming back for some last-minute research. It’s a long shot, but it’s all he’s got right now.

“Picasso’s signature style is cubism,” is the first thing Spencer hears when he enters the museum. “This painting was painted during the Spanish civil war.” He gets closer and notices a group of what looks like fifth graders standing in front of Guernica. There you are, smiling and nodding along to the presentation.

A few other patrons, probably parents, have gathered around to listen to the presentation. Spencer joins them, hoping that you’ll notice him. You do. You give him a small smile before turning your attention back to your students.

The kid finishes the presentation, and a museum volunteer takes his place. “We’re gonna try drawing like Picasso now.” The kids excitedly follow her to another room, while you stay behind. “Spencer?”

“Hi, (Y/N).”

“How was the case?”

“What?”

“You still look like you’re looking for an unsub, trying to draw connections between people,” you explain. “I also used to come here after a case. Looking at other people’s pain turned into something beautiful helped.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was-”

“Ms. (L/N)!”

“Sorry,” you laugh. “Duty calls. Get some sleep. We can finish this later, if you want.”

“Yeah. Do you want my number-” You’re already scribbling your number in crayon on the back of a brochure.

“Let me know when you’re free.”

He nods, holding the brochure to his chest while hurrying back to your class. “See you soon.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah.”

He walks into work the next day without calling you. He’s not entirely sure what the protocol is here. He wants to call you. He really does, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate. He’s heard Derek complain too many times about a girl calling him back too quickly. He didn’t want to do that to you. Still, he doesn’t want you to think he’s not interested.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[boldlyvoid]

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

[magicresteda]

I FOUND THE SCEEEEEEEENe. Really, if this wasn’t true. If this wasn’t a scene that was dishing out all of leos deepest thoughts and reiterating the whole ‘wyatt is an issue’ theme. then idk what to tell you. Because, honestly, if Leo didn’t feel that way then he would have tried to deny it more - or reason with grams. And, hey, Penny is always usually right, she knows what the fuck she’s talking about and how to read people. leo thought gideon was right and its just more fire to the ‘friendly reminder that he’s gunna be evil’ flames.

[mercy-burning]

Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But  I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter one: "Yes, I'm a genius"

Word count: 10,5 K

Warnings: Cursing, but it's mostly a fluffy nerdy start to our story.  Mentions of the L.D.S.K episode (Season 1, E06) and A real Rain (Season 1, E17).

Summary: Spencer meets the BAU new member, a young S.S.A. who happens to be just as nerdy as he is. (Y/N) is excited to join her dream job finally, but she is decided to create an imaginary barrier between her personal life and her job 'cos she doesn't want to make the same mistakes her father had done.

A/N: It's happening!!! I'm so excited!! I'm sorry it's gonna be long, so I hope you enjoy the ride 💕. Let me know what you think!  

Series Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | 

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Spencer's point of view

I remember everything that happened the day (Y/N) first arrived at the BAU. It was Monday, November 7th, 2005. Morgan had teased me for a whole week already, as soon as Hotch told us a new member of the team had been selected.

I first saw her when she had her last interview with Aaron and Gideon. My eyes were glued to her from the moment she stepped into the bullpen, and of course, Derek saw me.

- "What caught your eye, kid?"- he asked, walking to my desk. He sat on it and cut me one of his smirks, telling me he knew something was going on. I cleared my throat, trying to turn to my pile of paperwork, going through the papers, and narrowing my eyes, pretending to read.

- "What?"- I know I couldn't fool him, but at least I tried.

- "Do you know her?"

- "Who?"- Morgan looked at me in silence. He knew I knew what he was talking about- "The... no, Hotch is talking with someone..."

I was completely flustered.

- "That I can see, do you know her?"

- "No..."- I whispered and looked over again, this time staring at the scene inside the office, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

I could see (Y/N) smiling at Hotch, and he... smiled back, which still surprises me. Our Unit Chief never smiles in the office, and somehow, (Y/N) always manages to make him grin and express tenderness. I guess that's one of the things about her I love, the way she always manages- somehow, I still don't know how- to make everybody around her happy. Especially me. I had never been as happy as I've been since I met her.

- "Hey, Hotch!"- Morgan waited until she was into the elevator to call Aaron and start asking questions- Who is she?

- "That's Supervisory Special Agent (Y/F/N) (Y/S/N) (Y/L/N), and she is going to be part of the team, starting next week."

My heart stopped. (Y/N) was gonna work with me. I was never going to have another intelligible thought or idea if she was going to be around. Of that, I was sure.

Derek turned to me with a grimace of taunt as I tried my best to look away and hide my red blushed cheeks. Damn it. I hate it when he makes me feel like a kid. He did that then, and he still manages to do it now, even when I'm already thirty years old.

- "Did you hear that, pretty boy?"- I was so glad it was just him and Hotch. I didn't want anyone else to listen to that conversation- "You are going to get many chances to talk with that pretty girl."

- "We are going to have to go through the fraternization policy then."- Hotch joked. Yes, he joked and smiled as he walked away.

I could barely talk or even look at her during her whole first day. I was so embarrassed that week 'cos I had just failed my firearm qualification, and I knew everybody was judging me. At least that's how I felt. It didn't work that Morgan welcomed me that morning with a freaking whistle. I felt like the mockery of a Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and of all days, (Y/N) had to arrive that morning.

We had a long briefing that day, JJ catching (Y/N) up with a few cases we were reviewing, and Hotch gave her the proper induction to the team. Penelope loved her. It was friendship at first sight.

- "I'm so happy you are here to stay! There aren't enough girls here at the BAU!"- she nearly squeaked as soon as we left the meeting room- "I want to know everything about you! We are going to be best friends. I can feel it!"- (Y/N) smiled at Garcia and nodded.

- "If you are a cat lover and a sucker for nerdy things, then I guess we are already family."

Her answer made Penelope shriek in excitement as I walked back to my desk quickly. I knew Derek wasn't going to waste the chance to embarrass me in front of her, and I needed to avoid it no matter what.

- "Considering it's your first day, and so far we haven't got a case, I say we should all have lunch together. There's a small place nearby"- Morgan smiled sweetly at (Y/N), and she nodded.

- "I'd love to."

- "Spencer here was just telling me how he wanted to know how you got to the BAU so young; he is excited not to be the team's baby anymore"- I turned to Morgan slowly. I swear he could feel the daggers from my eyes.

- "How old are you?"- she asked, and her smile left me speechless. I tried to answer, but I couldn't make any sound but an awkward stutter.

- "He's twenty-four"- Elle had to answer for me, 'cos I had literally lost all my verbal abilities- "His birthday was a few weeks ago."

- "Congratulations! I'm twenty-four too! I'm so happy I'm not the youngest! My brother teased me about it for the last couple of days and got me all freaked out."

She looked so happy to be there. When you spend day after day surrounded by the worst of humankind, you seem to enjoy and appreciate the little gentle things in life. Her excitement was one of those. It was refreshing.

- "That's..."- it was so hard to pronounce any word at that moment. I was flustered and mortified 'cos I was making a fool out of myself.

- "That's great."

That was all I managed to say. Then, I looked down at the papers on my desk, doing my best to avoid any conversation. JJ and Elle talked to her for a few more minutes before returning to their duties, and Derek tapped my back as he walked to his desk.

- "Way to go, Romeo."

- "Shut up."

We never made it for lunch that day, 'cos we were called for a case in Illinois, and I was embarrassed in front of (Y/N) for the very first time. The first of many.

.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I could never forget the day I met Spencer. We were just kids. We were both twenty-four, and that was the first thing that caught everybody's attention on my first day at the BAU. We were the youngest, though he was a genius. I was an average kid who graduated high school at sixteen, got good grades at college, and got into the academy at twenty. Somehow I managed to kick ass until I got the position of my dreams in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I felt too young and inexperienced to be there, but seeing Reid's face made me feel a little better.

Hotch introduced me to everybody: Morgan, JJ, Elle, Penelope, Gideon -the legend- and Doctor Spencer Reid. He didn't shake my hand, explaining he has a "germs thing." I waved and said I understood him because I've always had a "hug thing," so we are both on the same page.

- "I don't like people touching me if we are not close friends or family."- I explained, and he smiled right away. That smile. It lit up my days for years to come.

- "Me neither, so don't worry, I'm not gonna try to touch you"- I bit my lips as I nodded, and his cheeks turned blood red with embarrassment immediately

- "Sorry, I mean, I'm not going to do anything that might bother you, like hugging you or..."

- "Don't worry, Dr. Reid, I understood what you were trying to say"- he kept nodding and excusing himself, and I tried not to laugh. He seemed to be so nervous it was endearing.

- "You... you can call me Spencer, or Reid"- he added- "You don't need to call me doctor."

- "You can call me (Y/N)"- and he nodded again, looking like a ten years old kid.

I remember clearly that second, right away, I thought he could be my new best friend. There was something about him that made me want to get closer to him.

- "Great! Now we've got two weird kids."- Morgan quickly said, chuckling, and I frowned at his words. I wanted to give him the snarkiest answer, but I remembered it was my first day, and I was still trying to give a good impression to my new coworkers, so I just stared.

- "You know, treating them like kids won't make you look wiser."- Elle whispered, though I heard her perfectly, as Hotch called to the briefing room.

- "I'm just joking with them! Don't you get a joke?"

I thought it was rude to joke around with someone you had just met, but soon after that, I realized Derek Morgan meant no harm. He was like that. And soon, he became the older brother I never thought I was going to need at work. After all, it was my first official job, and it was a very stressful one.

.

My first case was nerve-wracking. Gideon snapped in front of me, and I felt I wasn't helping at all catching the sniper. We are not supposed to use that word, but fuck it. Besides, Spencer and Hotch were kept hostage by the unsub. And Aaron had to beat the shit out of Reid to save all the hostages. Reid was so embarrassed, and I was so scared.

Scared of looking weak in front of my team. Afraid of not deserve being at the BAU.

I remember Elle brought me a coffee on the jet on our way back and said the words that resonated in my head when she left.

- "No one expects you to be perfect at what you do. We just need someone who gives the best every day."

I looked into her eyes and nodded. That was one of the few intimate conversations we had. Elle wasn't the one to open her heart and share her feelings. But she was always someone who could tell you the truth and support you when you needed it.

.

- "Hey! Reid!"- I waved at him from my car as I stopped next to him outside the BAU. It was already two in the morning, and he was outside the main building waiting for a cab.

- "Hey (Y/N)."- he whispered as I rolled up the window and looked at him.

- "Do you need a ride?"

- "No... no, thank you"- he hesitated and waved- "I already called a cab."

- "Are you sure? it's gonna start raining any minute now."

And just as I predicted, a few seconds later, Spencer's glasses were covered with tiny drops of water. He smiled and took a step closer to the car, opened the door, and got in.

- "Th... thank you"- he whispered as I smiled

- "It's ok, I couldn't let you there, on your own, waiting for a cab, not after coming back from a case."

- "I'm ok..."- maybe he thought I was implying the beating he got from Aaron earlier that day, so I did my best to tell him otherwise.

- "I bet you are, but it's fucking freezing, and we are all tired. There's no way you are waiting for a cab if I can drive you over... what about your car, by the way?"

- "I'm not a fan of driving; I take the subway to work every day."

- "Really? Why not?"- I was surprised by his answer, but I was way more surprised we were talking, finally.

- "I don't know, I don't feel comfortable driving... the guys say I'm weird."

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He looked so nervous it made me feel bad. Maybe I had done something that had bothered him and never noticed it.

- "That's not weird"- my voice was soft, trying to calm him down. Spencer looked like a scared kitten sitting on my car's passenger seat.

- "If you don't like driving, that's ok... I don't like talking on the phone with people. It makes me anxious for no reason."- I confessed, keeping my eyes on the road. But I know he turned to me and nodded.

- "That's completely normal. It's called "telephone phobia" or "phone phobia," which refers to the irrational fear or discomfort with speaking over the phone. Psychologists believe that this condition is related to social anxiety, which causes a person to avoid situations where they will need to act. Making a call is essentially a performance, and some people dread making a mistake, freezing up, being ridiculed, or not being able to perform in front of an audience."

- "Really?"- he just nodded and kept his eyes on the road- "I didn't know it had a name! My insurance should cover it."

And he finally laughed, which made me feel he was maybe a little more relaxed around me.

- "This is me."- he announced, and I parked outside his building. It was a nice place, and conveniently, it was very close to my house.

- "Great! I live just a few blocks away. I can give you a ride to work whenever you want"- I might have sounded a little more excited than I should have, but I wanted to be friends with him. He was the closest in age with me at work, and he looked so shy and friendly. He was a magnet. Spencer Reid was calling for my friendship. I could feel it.

- "Th.. thanks"- he stuttered and nodded as he opened the door and step out of the car- "Thank you, again."

- "You are very welcome!"- I answered with a big smile. He stared at me for another second and waved before turning around, basically running into the building.

I wish I could go back in time to those days. Everything was more uncomplicated, we were getting to know each other, and everything was brand new: Reid's rambling, my bad jokes. I miss that. I miss us.

It wasn't easy to get close to Spencer. It wasn't easy to get close to the team, probably 'cos I was overthinking every single thing I did. In my first couple of weeks, I was as friendly as I have ever been and made my best to be the (Y/N) I had to be as an FBI Agent. I was making a tremendous effort to fit it. I was nervous and walking on eggshells the whole time. Every time Hotch talked to me, I was sure he would tell me I was fired. When Gideon looked at me, I was sure he thought I was the dumbest agent he had ever met. And every time I spoke at the morning briefings, I just could feel Spencer thinking I was stupid.

.

- "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! I was looking for you!"- Penelope ran into me outside the lady's room and jumped on my face, making me scream- "Sorry!"

- "It's ok, you just almost killed me of a heart attack, but that's ok... I'll survive."- I joked as I kept feeling my heart jumping in my chest.

- "Sorry, I'm just excited 'cos everybody is in for a little gathering tonight at my house. I need to give you a proper welcome! You've already been here for nearly a month, and we still don't get to know much of you."

Hanging out with my coworkers outside the office was strange. Not that I didn't want to get to meet them, it's just that... they were FBI agents. Sure, so was I, but it was my first official Supervisory Special Agent job, and I was only twenty-four. There were so many of my teenage days I still wasn't ready to let go. And so much of it, I didn't want them to know.

- "Sure!"- I replied and smiled at her face lighting up. You could tell Penelope was excited to host a party at her house.

- "Great! Tonight! my place! I'll text you the address! you have to be there!"

- "I will, I swear!"

Spencer's point of view

Oh, man! The first time I actually talked to (Y/N) was on a get-together Penelope organized at her apartment a few weeks after (Y/N) joined the team. Garcia made an effort to make her feel welcome, she even invited Elle, and we all knew those two weren't incredibly close.

Derek drove Elle and me to Penelope's, and I was mortified every minute I spent in that car. He wouldn't stop teasing me, and Elle asked over and over if I had a crush on (Y/N).

- "No! I don't have a crush on her! can you knock it off?!"- I finally snapped as I got off the car outside Garcia's building.

- "Just because she is my age doesn't mean I have or should have a crush on her! she is our new colleague! so please! Stop!"

I slammed the door and walked inside. Did I make an unnecessary scene? Yes, but I couldn't handle anything better at that moment. They were driving me crazy.

- "Welcome! Welcome!"- Penelope opened the door and invited us in. (Y/N), and JJ were already there, holding a beer and laughing. I stared at the two of them and knew I wasn't going to say a word the whole evening.

Back then, I still had a small crush on JJ. We had a terrible date after Gideon gave me tickets for a football game with her favorite team. That was his way to encourage me to ask her out, which I did... but apparently, I sucked at it, 'cos she never got it was a date and invited Penelope to come along. Worst date of my life. But still, I got flustered around her, and my mind kept coming back to her from time to time.

- "So, pretty girl, why did you want to be part of the FBI?"- Morgan asked her after a while of small talk. She was sitting on Garcia's coach, next to our host and JJ. I turned to look at her from my chair, and I swear I felt Elle's eyes on me for a few seconds.

- "Do you usually call girls names?"- (Y/N) answered the questions with another question and frowned at Morgan. He just wide opened his eyes and smiled, surprised.

- "He calls everybody names."- JJ replied, chuckling

- "Hey! he calls me sweet names! Just me!"- Penelope got all jealous and possessive right away.

- "Did you know according to some studies, the reason people in relationships use pet names for their partners is that they're harking back to their own childhood experience and their first love, which usually relates to their mother"- facts came out of my mouth faster than I noticed. I didn't have a chance to stop myself.

Derek frowned right away and (Y/N) bit her lips, trying not to laugh. Elle lost that fight and let out a burst of loud laughter along with JJ.

- "Are you trying to tell me I've got mommy issues, Reid?"

- "No, no, of course not!"- my voice was agitated as I shook my head and hands frenetically. If there's one thing I never want to do is get Morgan mad. He is scary when he is crossed, and back then, we weren't as close as we are now. Let's say I was a little afraid I might say the wrong thing. I always said the wrong thing... I don't know when to stop.

- "I call people pet-names too, once I get to know them, so don't worry"- (Y/N) smiled at turned to Derek with a smile- "And to answer your question, why did I join the FBI? I guess I tried to follow dad's steps. He is chief of police here at Quantico... and my older brother is a detective at NYPD, so... I guess I never really thought about it. I knew where I wanted to be."

- "I bet they are proud"- JJ smiled at her, and I held my breath for a second. I don't know why I did it; I just remember feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Not because of JJ, but because I wanted to learn more about (Y/N). I wanted to know everything, but I had no idea how to ask her anything.

- "Well, my brother is very jealous since I joined the BAU"- she chuckled with a playful smile- "Now I'm dad's favorite."

She told us about her academy experience, and we all told her a little bit about ourselves. Morgan was nice enough to tell her everything about my degrees and IQ because, well, my IQ dropped to twenty when it was my turn to talk to her.

I found out she has a MA in Linguistics and was considering doing the DA, which she did. That's when I managed to speak, and we talked about our college experiences for a while.

- "Oh, no! I wasn't popular at all. When your dad is a cop, kids usually don't wanna talk to you or invite you to parties."- she explained as we stood at one side of the room. Talking to her on our own was a little bit easier than doing it with everybody else watching. I don't know why. So I took my opportunity when Derek was out getting more beer with Elle, and JJ and Garcia were in the kitchen.

- "Being fourteen and riding my bike to college didn't make me very popular either."- I confessed, and she chuckled

- "Sorry."

- "Don't be"- I smiled and looked down at my shoes- "I guess at a certain point in our lives, we have to start laughing about some of the bad things that happened to us"- her cellphone rang that second, and she looked at the screen with a small smile.

- "Sorry, I have to answer this, it's my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. I should have seen it coming.

I walked to the kitchen, defeated, and sighed. I left my empty can of Coke and looked at my friends.

- "I think I'm gonna go home."

- "What? No! It's too early, Spence!!"- JJ argued right away- "You never want to hang out with us outside work!"

- "Yeah!! Don't you want to have fun with us?"- Garcia begged and pouted. I wasn't sure I wanted to be there. I was very uncomfortable 'cos social gatherings weren't my thing (they are still not my thing anyway) until I heard her voice.

- "So, what are you guys doing?"- (Y/N) walked over and stood next to me

- "Who were you talking to?"- Penelope asked right away with a wink.

- "My boyfriend"- she was joyful, I could feel the happiness in her voice- "He just wanted to know if I was ok."

- "Boyfriend?"- JJ smiled, and I could feel her eyes glance over me.

- "I need to know everything!"- and Penelope hyperventilated right away- "How long have you been dating? Are you getting married soon? Is he the love of your life?"

- "Who's getting married?"- Morgan walked in and wide opened his eyes as he questioned the room.

- "(Y/N) is getting married!!"- Penelope nearly shrieked as (Y/N) shook her head laughing.

- "I'm not getting married! Paul and I started dating just a month ago; it's nothing serious."

I took a sip of the beer Elle gave me and sighed, staring at the bottle. I made my best not to look at Derek for the rest of the night. I didn't want him to give me any sorry glance or anything that might make anyone believe something that wasn't real.

It was a fun night, after all. After my beer, we talked; I felt a little looser and managed to ask (Y/N) about herself and told her I had overheard her telling Garcia she was a sucker for all nerd things.

- "Yeah, I'm a huge nerd"- her cheeks blushed with her confession.

- "I bet you can't beat baby genius here"- Morgan chuckled and tapped in my back, making everybody laugh... at me.

- "I've got the feeling I can top him... you have no idea the kind of geek I am"- she looked straight at me- "How many Star Wars conventions have you been to this year?"

- "Just one, you?"- I raised an eyebrow and watched her chuckle.

- "Five... last two I was in make-up and custom"- I wide opened my eyes as she bit her lips nervously.

- "And Doctor Who conventions?"- I asked her, way more intrigued than I had been about her before.

- "Only two this year, the academy and school got in the way of most of my fun..."

- "Do you have a favorite doctor?"- I had to ask

- "From the new series, ten, the classic Doctor who I have to say four."

- "Tom Baker is by far my favorite doctor of the whole series."

- "But you can't overlook the fantastic job David Tennant has done! He is the one who managed to charm a whole new generation with the show!"

- "Yeah, he is excellent! but he ain't no Baker"- I loved that conversation

- "Baker's popularity is 80% because he had Sara Jane, who is by far one of the best companions the doctor has ever had. She made him human and relatable"- she had a point, but I needed to argue with her. I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't because Morgan's voice was louder than my thoughts.

- "Ok, geeks, you can ramble about your tv shows and nerd things some other time, now let's make a toast. To our newest member, we hope you feel welcome working with us, 'cos you are gonna see us way more than you see your boyfriend"- she chuckled at those words and nodded.

- "Thank you, guys. You have been so nice to me these couple of weeks. I've got the feeling we are gonna get along."

.

- "Do you need a ride?"- (Y/N) turned to me as I grabbed my satchel, and she put on her coat.

- "Thanks, but Morgan is gonna take me home."- I whispered, scared to be alone with her again.

- "Actually, kid, I was planning to hit the club right now, it's still early, and we don't get many free nights, so..."- he looked at us and shrugged.

- "You don't mind?"- I asked her, and she gave me the warmest smile.

- "I just offered to do it, of course, I don't mind at all."

- "Thank you."

I didn't know if I wanted to kill Morgan or thank him. Either way, (Y/N) waved goodbye to everybody and walked out of Garcia's with me, after thanking everybody for the hundredth time for everything.

- "Are you tired?"- she asked me as we both sat in her car. She started it, and the music that came from the radio was so loud, I nearly covered my ears- "Sorry! Sorry! I was rocking my favorite album on my way over."

She quickly turned off the radio and gave me a guilty smile

- "It happens when you drive alone a lot."

- "Did you know listening to loud music helps you liberate stress?"- I started rambling- "There is a direct connection between your inner ear and the pleasure centers in the brain. Shortly explained, when you listen to loud music, endorphins are released, that act on the opiate receptors in our brains, they reduce pain and boost pleasure, resulting in a feeling of well-being."

If I was going to work with her, I had to find a way to talk to her. Even if that way was to ramble facts over and over again. Anything was better than silences, I guess.

- "Yeah! and it also works like a stimulant, which I needed after the week we just had..."- I chuckled, and she looked at me for a second- "By the way, I noticed you have a problem with coffee and sugar"

- "I don't have a problem with coffee!"- I felt nearly judged by her statement.

- "And sugar!"- she added and snickered

- "You know you shouldn't profile other profilers"- I made my best to make a joke, and I guess I nailed it, 'cos she chuckled.

- "That's hardly profiling, Reid! that's just watching you prepare your coffee every morning"

- "Have you been spying on me?"- I could help but to chuckle at that conversation. I was having fun.

- "No way on earth! I just happen to like to drink coffee too, which leads us to the question I wanted to ask, it's still early; Morgan was right, do you want to have a coffee or something... I'm in the mood for something sweet."

- "And you were judging me for my coffee with extra sugar!"

- "I'm not judging you! I'm just pointing out that I noticed what you are doing and wondering how many cavities you already have."

I laughed. An honest, real, pure laughter. She has always made me laugh as I've never had. Like there are no problems, no worries, no traumas. Nothing bad.

- "I have no cavities, thank you very much!"

- "Fine! and are you in the mood for a late coffee and cupcake with me?"- I stayed quiet and looked at her- Don't feel pushed to do it just because I'm giving you a drive

- "No, no, it's not that. I just don't wanna bother you"

- "If I am inviting you, Reid, it's because I want to do it, not because I'm feeling forced to do it"- she kept her eyes on the road, but her voice was so reassuring I couldn't doubt a word.

- "Wouldn't your boyfriend get mad or something?"- I whispered the question 'cos I was scared of the answer.

- "Why should he?"- she looked shocked by the questions- "If he gets jealous, then he is not the guy for me."

I cut her a short smile and nodded. Her personality was so different from mine. It was exciting to have her around.

- "I could eat a donut"- and she clapped at my answer, thrilled with the plan.

- "That's the spirit! I know just the place!"

We talked until four in the morning that night. I don't know how I managed to do it, not because I was tired, but because I was very nervous. Well, I was at the beginning, but talking with (Y/N) has always come easy to me, somehow. To the guy who was never able to speak in public or with any girl, spending three hours in a cafeteria talking, eating donuts, and drinking coffee in the middle of the night was the most significant achievement.

.

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "How do you know a place open at this hour?"- Spencer asked me the very first time we were out together for coffee. It was already close to four in the morning, and I had started yawning, 'cos even with all the sugar and caffeine I had consumed that night, I was weary.

- "Sorry to break the news, doctor, but are not the only one with a sugar problem"- I licked a little frosting from my finger and grinned- "Sometimes after classes, or when I was too stressed studying, I would come here, get a coffee, a cupcake and just... do nothing for a while, just to let my brain rest I guess"

- "That makes total sense. The brain needs free time to process new information and turn it into something more permanent. Though the amount of time a mind needs to construct a durable memory probably varies from one person to the next, it also depends on the complexity of what that person is trying to learn"

- "Well, believe me, it felt like I needed two weeks to process all the information, but I only had half an hour if I was lucky"

- "Then you are already trained for this work. We don't have much time to do anything when we are on a case"

- "That's what I've seen so far... but at least you all get along. It would suck to be stuck in a team that fight egos and divisions."

- "Yeah, you are right, we are lucky to have very nice people working with us... everybody brings something different to the team"- I nodded at his words and looked down at my fingers as I tried to wipe the leftover sticky glazed with a napkin.

I had been working there for four weeks already, and I still felt like I didn't belong. Honestly, it was such hard work being there, not because they weren't a great team, but because it was more challenging than I ever imagined. Profiling and traveling all over the nation catching serial killers was... stressing, to say the least.

- "You bring a completely different point of view in every case"- he continued speaking and looked down at his cup- "And your knowledge in Linguistics adds more information to the profiles, which helps working faster and better."

I held my breath at his words. I knew he was just polite, just trying to make me feel better about my job performance these weeks.

- "I can assure you, you have been an incredible addition to the team"- he stayed quiet for a second, still just staring at his cup.

- "Thank you."

- "It's true; I'm not telling you this 'cos I think you need to hear it. I wanted you to know 'cos that's how we all feel."

I know I was blushing. I don't know how to take a compliment. Not that I get many, but it's always weird to hear someone telling you so nice things about your work.

- "Thank you, Spencer"- he finally looked at me and nodded. We stayed in silence for a few minutes. I didn't know what else to say, and he seemed to be embarrassed.

- "Thank you, actually"- he finally whispered.

- "Why? I didn't do anything"- I was confused, but he was earnest about his words.

- "Thank you, 'cos you have been very nice to me, even though I am a barely tolerable person."

- "What? Barely tolerable? What the hell are you saying?"

- "I mean, I know I drive people crazy 'cos I am always rambling and giving unnecessary facts all the time"- I narrowed my eyebrows, not getting why he was saying those things.

- "You do not do that."

- "Maybe you haven't been here long enough to realize I am always giving facts, and..."- he was honest. He actually believed people were annoyed by him. It hurt me to know that's what he thought of himself.

- "I realized that within the first three hours into the job, but I think that's amazing."

- "People would always say it's annoying."

- "Why would they say that?"

- "Because... I know they do."

- "Well, whoever says or thinks that are assholes, I like your rambling."

Reid snorted, and I hit his arm with my knuckles softly. I really felt bad he was so insecure, and most of all, he thought everybody hated him.

- "I mean it, Spencer, I wish I knew half the things you know, and if being with you means having to listen to your rambling, I think it's incredible, 'cos it gives me the chance to soak some of that knowledge."

The way he smiled, it was like his whole face lit up. He blushed, obviously embarrassed, and it also blushed me, 'cos he was gorgeous when he smiled.

- "So please, don't stop the facts, not with me"- he nodded and sipped what was left of his coffee.

After another few minutes, we left, and I drove him home. We were in a small sugar rush; we were too tired to have a full effect. I knew all I wanted was my bed and sleep the whole weekend.

- "I had a great time tonight"- I parked my car outside his building and smiled- "At Penelope's and with you"

I was so excited we had finally talked and gotten closer. I wanted to be friends with him so badly. Why? I don't know. I just knew I needed him in my life, from that minute on.

- "I had a great time too"- he smiled and held his satchel- "See you Monday"

- "Yeah! See ya!"

- "Drive safe!"

- "I will!"

I got home that night and laid on my bed, fully dressed. I barely took off my shoes and fell asleep right away. I was too tired to think, too tired even to put on my pajamas. But I wasn't too tired to remember Spencer's smile while he ate donuts. His dorky glasses, the way he gesticulated everything he said when he was excited about a subject. I was glad I had finally gotten to talk to him for once. And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Back then, Paul and I had just started dating. I wasn't in love with him, but he was a nice, funny guy I loved spending time with. I met Paul a couple of months ago at a friend's party. He was fun to be with, and we had a lot of things in common. We were both into music. He had a band, I didn't back then, but eventually got mine over time. He was like me, nothing like my friends at the BAU.

I thought that was cool, 'cos he represented a part of me I didn't want to lose working at the FBI. I was terrified I was going to lose myself in my new job. I saw how it affected dad's and my brother's life, how they were consumed by it in almost every single way. It was why my parents got divorced. It was why my brother couldn't keep a girlfriend for longer than a few months. 'Cos work was first, and their job was everything. The crazy hours, having to answer every call, no matter how busy you were. I thought it was sick how work could be your whole life. I was decided not to let it happen.

Yeah. I had no idea what I was getting into.

Soon after I joined the BAU, the nightmares began. I guess nothing prepares you to see so many people die. And nothing prepares you to kill someone, no matter if that someone is a child abuser.

I took the shoot, didn't even hesitate. It went right between his eyes. It was him or me, I know that. He was going to kill me. But still, it was hard.

Derek turned to me as I stayed still, in shock. It took me a few seconds to even breathe. I had just killed a person. It wasn't just some random thing.

- "(Y/N), are you ok?"- he landed a hand on my shoulder, and I quickly nodded.

- "Yeah, I'm ok... that was fast"- it was all I could say and turned to him. He gave me a short warm smile and wrapped an arm around me. I flinched at his touch right away and held my breath again. I don't know if he felt it, but still, he didn't let me go.

Derek has that thing when he doesn't care if you want it or no; he will give you his love and friendship when he feels you deserve it. I guess I'm lucky to call him my friend. And he really pushed that hug thing I still have.

- "Are you ok?- Spencer's voice was a sweet whisper. He sat carefully next to me in the jet and gave me a warm cup of tea- "I made you the one you like"

Of course, he had noticed my favorite brand, 'cos that's what Spencer does, he takes mental notes of everything and never, ever forgets. I wonder if that's a good thing or not. I guess it depends on what you remember.

- "Yeah, just tired"- working at the BAU, you can hide any kind of feeling behind the "I'm so tired" excuse. Mostly because we are indeed tired the whole time.

- "It was an extreme case"- I sipped my cup of tea and nodded at his words- "Do you..."

- "No, I'm ok, I don't wanna talk about it"- he bit his lips as he smiled. We both stayed quiet for a while. He read (somehow, at a relative normal peace), and I drank my tea. I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I just looked outside and tried not to think about the unsub's face and how he looked when I killed him.

- "How was your first time?"- I finally asked him, and I think my question caught him by surprise, 'cos he nearly jumped on his seat- "Not your first time in the sack, the first time you had to..."

- "No, I got it, I got it"- he was already blushing, it was adorable- "My first time was actually the first time you drove me home"

- "Really?"

- "Yeah"- he made a pause and gathered his thoughts, I guess- "I didn't really go out to the field a lot before 'cos I didn't have my firearm qualification"

And suddenly I remembered how embarrassed he was about it on my first day at the BAU. Derek made sure everybody knew about it 'cos he thought it was hilarious. And I thought he was a jerk for making fun of him.

- "And did it affect you?"- it was a stupid question. I knew Spencer was a sensitive person; of course, killing someone was going to affect him in many ways- "I mean, how did it affect you?"

- "I couldn't feel anything at first"

- "Shock?"- he nodded and sighed- "Gideon said that maybe I didn't know what I felt and that's why I thought I didn't feel a thing, but that wasn't it, it was like I was numbed inside... but then when it hits you"- he murmured- "And you can't stop thinking about it"

- "I think it hit me sooner than I thought"- I closed my eyes and sighed, but even then, I could feel those empty dead eyes staring at me.

- "Wanna know what helped me?"- Spencer's voice was velvety and soothing. It felt relaxing talking to him.

- "What?"- I whispered and turned to look at him

- "Remember two things: you did what you had to do"- I sighed at that with a small smile. It didn't sound like something I could believe at that moment.

- "And the second?"

- "A lot of kids are alive and safe because of you"

Now, that made me feel a lot better. Reid was right. I did what I had to do to help people. That guy wasn't going to stop.

- "Thanks"- I managed to give him a slight smile, and he did the same.

- "I'm here to talk if you want to"

It felt like he was really making an effort to say those words. I didn't know why it was still so hard for him to talk to me. Maybe it was still a sensitive subject for him, so I did what I do best: I joked about it.

- "Thank you... I'll try to avoid the issue as much as I can, but when I collapse under the pressure, I promise I'll come to you"- he chuckled at my answer and nodded right away.

- "Great plan."

And a few days later, I couldn't sleep anymore. I kept waking up to those eyes. I kept feeling guilty for killing a child abuser who was trying to kill me. I relived in my mind that moment over and over again.

- "Babe, come back to bed"- Paul found me sitting by the kitchen island staring at a herbal teacup at two am. It was my third insomnia night.

- "Yeah, I'll be right there"- he turned to walk back to the room but hesitated and looked at me again.

- "Do you want to talk about it?"- I shook my head, still not taking my eyes from the cup. He slowly walked to me and held my hand - "Come on, babe, everything looks worse at two am."

And he was right. Everything seemed to be worse when it came to my mind in the middle of the night. But it didn't get any better during the day either. He cuddled with me in my bed and fell asleep soon after. I just stayed there, feeling his chest moving softly with his soft breathing, thinking I had killed someone, and it wasn't going to be the last time I was going to face something like this.

.

Spencer's point of you

Do you want to know something sad? I was excited we had an unsub in New York 'cos I had never been there. Back then, I didn't know my colleagues were going to tease me about it. I didn't give it too much thought. I honestly wasn't good at leaving my house when we weren't in a case. Most of my traveling had been due to work, and other than La Vegas and Pasadena, I hadn't been to many cities just to sightsee.

Why am I thinking about that right now? 'cos we were in New York the day (Y/N) gave me her first gift.

Everybody had made fun of me during dinner because I didn't know how to eat with chopsticks. JJ tried to teach me, which also caused hours of Morgan's teasing for the rest of the trip. Thankfully, they dropped the jokes when we went back to the police station to take one last look at the profile after we got a call out unsub had killed a cop this time.

But after two hours of thinking, neither of us was honestly able to give any new idea to the case. Hotch insisted we head back to the hotel to have some rest. (Y/N) was one of the last ones to leave, along with Gideon and me.

- "Stop looking at the board"- she said, standing by my side, bag in hand- "Let's go. Your big brain needs to rest."

- "I won't be able to sleep knowing I'm missing something"- I answered, not taking my eyes from the board

- "Come on"- (Y/N) playfully hit my arm- "You need your eight hours of sleep to be a fully functional genius"

- "You should try to get a full night's sleep as well"- I turned to her and watched her eyes widen- "What? Do you think I didn't notice you haven't been sleeping?"

- "No, but I thought you were going to wait until I had a mental breakdown to force me to talk about it; that was the plan, right?"

I tried not to laugh, but it was hard; she is so funny, though I knew that was a sensitive subject, it had been weeks since the incident, and it was clear (Y/N) wasn't processing everything right. If anything, her jokes were a coping mechanism to avoid talking or even thinking about what had happened.

- "We can also talk about it, just... talk"

- "I know what happens with me, Reid"- she whispered and looked around. Gideon was outside, no way near us, but still, she kept her voice low. It made me see she was scared he would hear her, 'cos she didn't want him to think she was weak.

- "I guess I just have to make peace with it. It was gonna happen, and it will happen again, it's my job, it's part of what I do, end of it."

I looked at her and nodded in silence. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't shake the thought she was going to laugh at me.

- "Do you want to?"- I made a pause and took a deep breath. Yes, I was very nervous- "Do you want to walk back to the hotel? it's just a few blocks and maybe... fresh air can help you relax?"

I didn't mean to hesitate so much, but it was scary for me to ask her to spend time on our own. I don't know why. It wasn't just with her; it happened with everybody at that point in my life. I was sure no one wanted to spend time with me. Why would they?

- "Can we have a midnight cupcake?"- she asked and smiled. I bit my lips and pretended to give the idea a lot of thinking, though I was craving donuts ever since we didn't have time for dessert at dinner.

- "Just one, and no coffee"

- "What are you? The sleeping police?"- she teased me and led the way. We waved at Gideon and walked outside the police station.

For a rainy night, it was freezing. But I didn't care much. I was too busy looking around, it was technically my first night out in New York, and though I was just leaving work and walking back to the hotel, it was the biggest adventure I have had there so far.

For the first couple of minutes, we walked in silence. (Y/N) looked at her feet, hands stuffed in her pocket as I walked next to her, holding my umbrella for the two of us. I tried to take in everything that was going on around us. It was exciting, being there, alone. I was a twenty-four-year-old Supervisory Special Agent of the FBI, and I was excited to walk with a friend in the New York city streets. No wonder why Morgan called me "kid."

- "Did you know more than 800 languages are spoken in New York City? that makes it the most linguistically diverse city in the world"- I had to start rambling facts after a while because I guess I couldn't help it.

- "Vraiment?"- she answered, and I chuckled. Of course, Master in Linguistics.

- "Oui"- I thought we could have a whole conversation in french; it would have been fun and fascinating, but my French was very rusty, and I didn't know if she was fluent or just learned a few things.

- "When I was a kid, I dreamt about living in New York. I was obsessed with it"- she kept looking down at her feet as she spoke, and I turned to look at her for a second. She looked sad somehow, or that's what I read from her. I've always done my best not to profile profilers. It's harder than you imagine.

- "Why?"- she chuckled at her thoughts and kept her eyes on her shoes.

- "You know how they always make you feel no matter how weird you might be, you are still going to fit in New York?"

- "You are not weird"- I couldn't help but frown and look at her- "You are..."

- "I am weird, we are all weird, that's what makes us great"

I loved that thought. That's why I've never forgotten it. Lie, I can't forget. I remember everything we've said to each other because I want to, not because I have an eidetic memory.

- "But when you are in school, everybody is trying to fit it and be normal, and that wasn't me at all..."

I didn't see that coming, and I have to admit it, I loved it. I often felt I was an outsider at the BAU. Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Elle, JJ, they all fit in everywhere we'd go. Meanwhile, everybody looked at me, wondering what the hell am I doing there. I could read it on their faces. The fact the team had to introduce me as "Doctor Spencer Reid" is a sign they are making an effort to make me look older and more experienced. Reliable, even.

- "Why would you say you are weird?"- I had to ask- "You look very normal to me, I mean it"- she raised an eyebrow and didn't say a word. She just pulled my jacket and dragged me to a coffee shop.

- "Cupcakes, Reid, you can't expect me to tell you embarrassing facts about my life without a cup of coffee and a mountain of sugar."

JJ always said I ate like a kid, too many pastries and candy, no salad. Meanwhile, (Y/N) kept pushing sugar into my body. I liked that. They were both so different. JJ treated me like I didn't know how to deal with life. (Y/N) treated me like I could help her deal with life. JJ wanted to help me grow up. I could feel (Y/N) wanted to be my friend, and I loved that. I had never felt someone longing for my company. It was always the opposite. I usually felt people were stuck with me.

For months I kept comparing the two of them in my head. JJ had such condescending manners, it sometimes made me think she might actually have feelings for me. Other times, Morgan would call her my mom, which took all the hopes from my mind.

- "What do you do in your free time, Reid?"- (Y/N) sat in front of me in a booth. Right in between us, a table with two coffees, a red velvet cupcake, and a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles.

- "I read, study..."- I didn't give much thought to my answers- "I also write a letter to my mom every day"

- "That's so cute"- I felt how my cheeks turned blood red, and she smiled at me sweetly.

- "Thanks..."- I sipped my hot cappuccino and winced as the coffee burned my tongue, and she chuckled.

- "Slowly, doc, or are you in a hurry?"

- "Definitely not, I have no other plan, I mean, I could sleep, but I know I won't, and, and I know you won't sleep either, so"- the words left my mouth at such a fast pace, not even I got them all. (Y/N) nodded and started taking apart her cupcake, little by little.

- "That's awesome, 'cos I like hanging out with you, and I don't feel like hanging out with Elle tonight. We are sharing rooms."

- "You don't like her?"- now that was breaking news- "I thought you two got along"

- "Don't get me wrong, I like her. I just don't feel like being the version of myself I am when I'm with her"

I looked at her, not sure of where she was going. She took a piece of cake and ate it slowly.

- "You lost me"- (Y/N) sighed and ran a finger around the edge of her cup.

- "Are you really you the whole time when you are at work, Reid?"

- "Well, yes?"- I wasn't sure that was the answer she wanted, but it was the only one I had- "I don't know how to be anybody else"

That was the whole truth. That's still the truth. Maybe that's why I have never been popular. People say I have no empathy, that I can't read any social cues. If I knew how to be someone else, I would probably try to change that and be a Spencer that's entirely sympathetic and social, like everybody else. But I can't force myself to act differently.

She stared at me, and I could feel the frustration piling behind her small smile.

- "Do you want to know something weird?"- her eyes shone as she stared into mines asking the question

- "Always"

- "You are the only person at the BAU I feel I can be myself with"- she whispered and sipped her coffee again.

- "Thanks?"- I was confused- "But... you are not that different with me than you are with the rest of the team"

- "Well, I am... I don't share who I really am at work because I am afraid"

- "Why? What scares you?"- she sighed and laid back on the seat. I kept my eyes fixated on her until she furrowed her brows, staring back at me

- "Are you trying to profile me, Spencer? 'cos we are not supposed to profile each other. I'm pretty sure it was in the contract I signed"- I smiled, busted, and nodded.

- "If it makes you feel any better, you are hard to read"

- "I'm a good liar, don't tell anyone"

She was proud of her answer, and I guess she should have been. You have to be an excellent liar to catch unsubs, get in their head, play with them when you have to make them talk. I guess she was ahead of me in that area.

- "Well, If it makes you feel better, I feel more comfortable around you than most of the team"

I closed my eyes as I spoke, and I knew my voice had been so low and soft, it hadn't been surprising if she hadn't been able to hear me, but she did.

- "Is it because I don't like touching people either?"- she joked, and a small smile stretched across my lips

- "It is because you"- I stopped and rearranged my thoughts. You could tell she was eager to hear the rest of my answer, and I was making sure not to make a fool out of myself.

- "It's because it feels you don't judge me for being me"

- "That's exactly how I feel, Spencer"- her smile was so big it made mine grow bigger as well.

- "But, why can't you be you with everybody?"- (Y/N) took a big bite of her cupcake, feeling more confident about our conversation and nodding.

- "Mmm, this is so damn good, you should try it, Reid"

- "Answer the question, (Y/N)"- I ignored her random comment and asked again- "Why can't you just be you?"

- "There are two answers to that question, and both of them are real"- she finally confessed and bit her lips, playing again with a little piece of cake on the dish.

- "I'm waiting"

- "You know, for someone who said has all the night off, you are indeed in a hurry now!"- she snickered and stuck out her tongue at me.

- "Fine, here's the truth: I don't want to share my whole real me at work because I am scared people will judge me and think I'm weird and too immature for the job, but at the same time, and this is the second reason, I don't wanna show my whole me at work 'cos I am afraid I'll lose it along the way, I am worried the FBI will take that weird part of me and will turn me into an SSA."

- "You are an S.S.A., (Y/N)"

- "I know, but I'm afraid I might end up being an ASS, Reid"

Her joke made me laugh so hard, tears fell down my cheeks. And she looked pleased to see me laughing.

- "See? That's me, the girl telling weird jokes the whole time 'cos can't stand a serious "grown-up" conversation. Can you imagine this (Y/N) talking with Hotch? Seriously, Reid, can you imagine?"

- "No, I can't"- I shook my head, still chuckling, and took a bit of my donut- "But I would definitely love to."

- "Do you want to know what I do in my free time?"- my mouth was still full, so I just nodded, feeling a little guilty I hadn't asked about her when she had asked about my hobbies.

- "I ride my longboard and play bass, do you think an SAA should be doing that? Do you think Elle does it? JJ? they are the perfect fit for the role. I am that kid at the back of the class who got a stroke of luck and managed to hang out with the cool kids"

- "Am I one of the cool kids?"- I had to ask

- "Yes, Reid, why?"

- "I've never been one of the cool kids before"- she gave me a severe look and sipped her coffee.

- "Here I am, pouring my heart and soul out for you, and all you care about is being one of the popular kids. That's being a lousy friend, Reid."

She was joking, and we both chuckled, but my chest tightened at her words, and the smile on my lips grew wider. She called me her friend for the first time that night.

- "I think you are overthinking this whole thing, (Y/N)"- she sighed at my words and finished her coffee- "We are all weird, you said it yourself"

- "Some on us more than other"

- "Yes, but that's what makes us great and unique. I told you, your vision brings a whole new point of view to the profiles, and I know what it's like to feel insecure people will judge you for being too young"

- "I know, that's why I'm glad you are here"

I am sure I was blushing, and I am absolutely certain she noticed because I heard her giggle as I looked down at my empty dish and fidgeted with my cup.

- "And... are"- I stuttered and narrowed my eyes. I knew I had to stop being so nervous around her; she was my friend, she had said it herself- "Are you ready to talk about your nightmares?"

- "Are you profiling I have nightmares?"- she raised an eyebrow and questioned my question

- "I am staring at the back rings under your eyes. It's clear you haven't been sleeping and considering we both know you went through a traumatic incident, to call it that way, you are clearly going through night terrors or nightmares"

- "Did you go through the same?"

- "Yes, I did"

- "And how did you overcome it?"

- "I haven't. I just made my peace with it"- you could read the deception on her face. That wasn't the answer she was waiting for.

- "They will be more sporadically, I promise, (Y/N)"

- "That's what's scares me too"

- "What?"

- "That one day I won't have the nightmares 'cos I'll be used to seeing the darkness and horror around me."

When we left the cafeteria, it was two in the morning, and the night was freezing. It was no longer raining, and the cold wind could freeze your skin in a second. (Y/N) looked at me as I shivered and opened her bag.

- "Here, put this on"- it was a purple scarf.

- "Thank you"- I was so cold I didn't hesitate. The wool was warm, soft, and it smelled like her- "It's pretty"- I felt I had to compliment it, 'cos she was too nice with me.

- "I made it myself"- you could tell she was proud. I tightened it around my neck and continued our way back to the hotel.

I hadn't felt I could count on someone at the FBI as I did with her. She wouldn't think I'm a kid; she wouldn't be forced to hang out with me. It felt pretty good to have a friend again. Ethan had been the last one I had lost. I always lose the people I love.

- "Thank you"- we were standing outside (Y/N)'s room back at the hotel. I took off the scarf and tried to give it back to her, but she didn't let me.

- "Keep, it's a present for being my first and best BAU friend"- I felt profoundly flattered, and I'm pretty sure I giggled, blushing- "Besides, purple looks good on you"

- "It's my favorite color"- I confessed- "And I'm not saying it just to make you feel good"

- "Then you have to keep it. It was made for you even when I didn't know it"- she smiled one more time and opened the door- "Good night, Reid."

- "Good night, (Y/N)."

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Series Masterlist

Chapter two

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