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cconstant-ccraving · 3 years ago

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God Only Knows

Chapter Four

Episode: S01xEP06

Pairing: slow burn Aaron Hotchner x fem OC

Summary: The BAU uncover the unsub and close the case with the help of Y/n, who gets the chance to demonstrate her skill as a sniper. Afterwards, Morgan invites her to the bar where she talks to Hotch, the closing of the case feeling slightly bitter sweet.

Warnings: Mentions of shooting+death.

Word Count: 3.1k

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Y/n walked into the conference room in the precinct after the BAU team and Detective Calvin. She took a seat at one of the desks and kicked her feet up as JJ asks, “How did McCarty end up playing the unsub?”

“Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the unsub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon,” the Detective responded.

The blonde frowned, “Wait, then how did the unsub find out about the reenactment?”

Y/n scoffed from her place, making the team look to her, “Come on. Cops talk. Pissed off cops talk loud.”

Morgan nodded and tagged on, “At home, at the bars, at the gym, to anyone who’ll listen.”

“What do we know” Gideon asked. “Our unsub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer, so he’s escalated.”

“Sometimes, it’s what they don’t do,” Hotch spoke. Y/n noticed that when he spoke, his voice rung out clearly across the room. He spoke with conviction. He had a nice voice, she thought. Deep, strong, but it also had a calming affect on her.

“He did not pick McCarty at random,” Reid chipped in.

The team continued to theorise and in a moment of quiet JJ looked over to y/n and said, “That’s bleeding.”

Y/n looked at her arm and saw that she was bleeding through the bandages. Nothing major, just meant that she had to change the dressing.

She groaned and leaned up in her chair, “There’s a kit in that drawer, I’ll just change it.”

“No, it’s okay. Let me,” JJ smiled at her and grabbed the box, bringing it over to where she was sat and pulled up a chair.

A feeling of warmth flooded y/n, it was one of the first instances that a member of the BAU team had shown her a kindness since they’d arrived. JJ was a gentle soul, naturally maternal. Her team was lucky to have her.

Hotch tried to keep himself from glancing in their direction as y/n’s arm was redressed but he found himself looking over more than he would care to admit.

“He didn’t take the gut shot,” Morgan said, picking up the conversation,

“Why?”

Gideon looked around the room, as though he was testing his team. When they came up empty he continued, “He wants to send a message.”

“Nobody takes credit for my work,” Hotch spoke.

“Yes, sir. His ego won’t allow it. He feels under appreciated,” Gidoen continued.

“Okay, but we still don’t know why he wounds them,” Elle said.

“Holy shit,” Y/n sat up as JJ finished wrapping her arm.

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“Can you call your analyst? I think I’ve got something,” Y/n said, rushing over to the phone.

Hotch picked up and dialled a number, before putting it on speaker, “You’re speaking to the office of supreme genius. This better be chocolate thunder calling, what can I do for you, sweetness?”

Y/n let out a shocked laugh before responding, “Uhm, sorry to disappoint but this is Captain Y/n Miller with the Des Plains police department.”

Derek was smiling and shaking his head, the rest of the group laughed lightly. Even Hotch’s upper lip twinged.

“Oh. OH! I-I am so sorry. What can I do for you?” Garcia asked, her cheeks flushing cherry red from her desk in Quantico.

“That’s alright sugar,” Y/n laughed, “Can you make a geographic profile of where each of the attacks took place? Find, maybe, a location that’s at the center.”

“Yep, yes, I can do that. Just give me two seconds,” The analyst responded.

“What are you expecting to find?” Morgan asked her.

“Think about it, why would the unsub just shoot and run? Surely if the killer can’t have contact with his victims, he’ll contact the media right?” Y/n rattled off.

“But he hasn’t contacted the media,” Elle said, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Exactly, so he must have contact with his victims and there’s only one way he can do that,” She concluded.

Hotch was almost smiling when he spoke, “The hospitals.”

It was then that Garcia spoke from the speakerphone, “Guys, she’s right. The crime scenes are centered on the two hospitals in the area.”

“Thank you Garcia,” Hotch said and hung up the phone. “Let’s get to the hospitals and interview the director again. See if she can think of anyone that matches the profile.”

They team started filtering out of the room while y/n went to fetch her spare jacket from her desk, she jumped when Gideon spoke from behind her, “That was a good catch.”

“Thanks,” She said.

“I never got the chance to thank you for earlier. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you so, thank you,” He said.

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

“Did you ever consider applying to the F.B.I? Intelligent young woman, military background, college educated. Did it cross your mind?” Gideon inquired.

She paused, picked up her jacket, and said, “It did. I even got so far as putting in an application but..things happened, I wasn’t prepared to start something so new after an experience like that.”

Being in prison wasn’t something she likes remembering. Her entire life was derailed, any vision for the future she had imagined for herself disappeared in an instance.

“You’re still young, most don’t come to the bureau until about your age. You should consider it. Taking the classes, becoming a profiler. You’re good at what you do, I think you could excel with the right training,” Gideon explained.

She looked at him, trying to tell if he was being genuine. He certainly seemed to be an honest man.

Gideon could tell that she was unsure of what to say so he continued, “Think about it. Even if you didn’t end up in the BAU, you’d be a great asset to the bureau.”

Y/n laughed and said, “You in the habit of recruiting people Agent Gideon?”

He chuckled to himself and smiled at her, “No. Definitely not. But when I see potential, I see potential. Come on, let’s get to the hospital. I want to speak to a surgeon there, he matches a lot of our profile. He’s a borderline misogynist, thinks himself a God because of the lives he saves. Grab as many weapons as you can, make yourself look as official as possible. I think having a woman in the room that doesn’t admire him will intimidate him.”

“Yes, Sir.”

---

Y/n stood with Gideon and the rest of the team outside a room in the hospital. Dr Landman, their newest suspect, stood inside looking over x-rays.

“So, what exactly do you want me to do Agent Gideon?” Y/n asked as a S.W.A.T officer handed her two side arms.

She placed them into the holster which sat on her waist as Gideon responded, “He’s a borderline misogynist, he views himself as above women. He’s egotistical and sees himself as a god for the lives he saves. I just need you to stand there and look at him, keep a hand on your gun at all times. Don’t respond even if he speak directly to you. You’ll unsettle him, he’s used to women bending to his will.”

“Dang, and I thought you just wanted me to stand there and look pretty,” She smirked and she took her sniper rifle from the officer and looped it over her head, letting it fall to her chest. She was wearing a form-fitting, navy top with the yellow ‘S.W.A.T’ text on the back. Her arm remained bandaged from earlier and the standard issue navy trousers adorned her legs.

“Let’s go,” Gideon said, pushing through the door, y/n following soon after him.

---

As the pair stood talking with the surgeon, Hotch walked in from checking out his car. JJ noticed him stepping up beside her, “You get anything from his car?”

Hotch scoffed, “It’s a red two seat Maserati. What’s going on in there?”

At that moment, Landman had stepped up to Gideon, getting in his face, “I was in my office, with Dr Hannah Pate. I’m not the only one who thinks I’m a God.”

The surgeon glanced over at Y/n, smiling to himself as he stepped near her, “I’m sure I could show you some time, Miss.”

She stared blankly at him. When he didn’t move, she took a step closer to him, looking him right in the face. She looked intimidating, Hotch thought to himself.

Landman was thrown, his neck flushed and he took a step back. He laughed to himself before, “She’s in the E.R. right now. Go on. Ask her.”

Gideon cast a brief glance out the window and Hotch took this as a signal, “Let’s take a walk down to the E.R.”

The stern agent took another glance through the window before leaving, y/n still had her eyes trained on the surgeon, ever cautious.

---

The first thing Captain Y/n Miller did when she heard gun shots ring out was draw her side arm, wrench the door open and run towards the sound.

“Move! Out of the way,” She shouted as she ran past hospital staff, civilians and anyone blocking her way. When she got to the E.R, the door was slammed shut and the BAU team was running up behind her.

Quickly she picked up her radio from her belt and spoke, “This is Captain Y/n Miller I need a tactical unit to the hospital right now!” She clipped the radio back into her belt after receiving a confirmation that S.W.A.T was on its way.

---

She walked up beside Officer Weigart as he arrived from the precinct, “Weigart, I’m putting you in charge of this assault. Act based on the F.B.I’s instructions, they know what this guy will do. I’m going to go round the back and see if I can get a shot on this guy.”

The officer nodded and she walked over to the BAU team, who were discussing the unsub, Philip Dowd, and his background.

“Agent Gideon,” She called. He turned around to face her, the team beside him falling quiet, “Sir, I’m going to go around the back of the building, see if I can get a good vantage point on the shooter.”

She took a breathe, looking around the team before speaking directly to the older man, “Sir, we called you here to help us, I trust you and your teams judgement. I want you to tell me, if I get a clear shot. Do you want me to take it? Is there any chance he’ll surrender himself?”

“There is a chance, small as it may be. I trust my Agents. They have his profile, they’re not unarmed. If they can gain his trust, they can get him to surrender without any further violence,” Gideon explained.

“And what if they don’t? Gain his trust that is?” She asked him, feeling anxious for the civilians stuck in that E.R. Hotch was in the E.R. Most likely unarmed, Reid not even carrying a gun. They could already be dead in there for all she knew.

Gideon sighed, looking back at his team, as though they were communicating telepathically, “You’re good at what you do Y/n. Hell, you profiled he was a nurse. If you get a clear shot, look at his behaviour. His body language. If you get even the slightest inkling that he may turn violent, take the shot."

“Yes, Sir,” She breathed, before turning and walking out of the E.R.

---

Looking through the scope of her sniper rifle, Y/n couldn’t see past the head of a nurse who was blocking the only window with access to the E.R.

“Damn it,” She said to herself.

Her ear piece spluttered to life as the voice of Agent Morgan came through, “Miller, have you got a line of sight, over.”

She quickly responded, “Negative. There’s a nurse blocking the-wait.”

She saw the nurse shirt from her position, moving to comfort a patient who lay on the floor beside her. Smiling triumphantly, she picked up the radio again, “I have clear line of sight into the scene. The suspect is stood holding a semi-automatic weapon in the middle of the room, your agents appear to be sat just in front of the reception desk. Hold, Agent Hotchner is standing, over.”

She looked through the scope of the rifle again, seeing Aaron’s stern face leer over Spencer, who was cowering on the floor.

“What the-”

“What’s going on Miller?” Gideon questioned.

“Agent Hotchner is- he’s kicking Reid,” She spoke.

“What? Why would he-”

“His gun,” Y/n realised.

“What’s going on-”

Y/n pulled her ear piece out, needing to focus. She realised that Hotchner was trying to get Spencer to take the gun from the holster on his ankle. His right step was heavier than his left, she had profiled earlier as he walked up to the ambulance. She noticed him more than he thought she did. If he was trying to get Reid to take his weapon, he must have realised that the unsub wasn’t going to back down, he planned to go down in a blaze of bullets.

The world went quiet as she readied the shot, focusing the scope on Dowd. Taking a quiet breath, she pulled the trigger.

---

The bullet had lodged itself right between Phillip Dowds eyes, in the center of his forehead. His body fell to the floor, before Reid had even pulled the trigger on Aaron’s gun.

Through the barricaded doors, Aaron could hear S.W.A.T counting down storm the room. He quickly ran across and shouted out, “Federal Agent! Federal Agent! Hold your fire!”

Hotch slowly opened the door and peered out, making contact with Gideon, “It’s all clear.”

S.W.A.T rushed the room, the rest of the team following in closely behind.

They made quick work of the zip ties on Hotch and Reids wrists, Hotch soon after helping the genius to his feet. The paramedics soon walked Reid out to the ambulance bay, wrapping him in a shock blanket.

The team gathered together, Gideon frowned as he gave Hotch a once over, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Dowd wasn’t going to give up he-”

The sound of boots hitting the floor cut him off, the team looking over to see Y/n walking in the door, her rifle grasped in her hands. They watched as a S.W.A.T officer walked over to her and offered to take the weapon from her hands. She smiled solemnly at him and handed him the gun before glancing around the crime scene.

Her eyes met Aaron’s. As soon as the unsub hit the ground he knew she had fired the gun.

She broke eye contact before walking towards the team. She stopped and looked at Gideon, “I’m sorry I cut off communication, Sir. I needed to focus on getting a clean shot.”

“How did you know? That he wasn’t going to give up?” Morgan asked her.

She paused, quickly glancing at Hotch, who was looking at her curiously, “I’m in special weapons and tactics, it’s my job do know when someone’s carrying and the danger they pose. Agent Hotchner walks with a heavy right foot. It wasn’t heavy enough to be a limp, so the only logical conclusion is that he carries a third generation Glock-17 strapped to an ankle holster. As soon as he started kicking Agent Reid, it was clear to me what was happening. Dowd wasn’t going to surrender, he was too wrapped up in his delusion. They had no line of communication to the outside so he had to find a way out, and being the unit chief he believed that rested on him.”

She felt his gaze on the side of her face. She refused to look at him. Whether or not she had been trained, she had profiled him. Profiled every single one of their team.

“Damn Hotch, she profiled you good,” Elle joked, breaking the tension.

“That she did,” He spoke, the ghost of a smirk gracing his beautiful, stoic face.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll catch up with you all a bit later. I’d like to debrief my own team,” She spoke.

“Of course,” Gideon said, stepping aside as she walked out of the E.R.

Before she got too far, however, Morgan shouted out, “Hey, Miller!”

She turned to face them, “Yeah?”

“We’re all going that bar opposite the precinct, you should come by later!” He winked cheekily at her.

She scoffed with a smile, “I might have to take you up on that.”

She cast a brief glance Hotch’s way before resuming her walk, as she came to a halt outside the E.R. he could only just hear her telling the S.W.A.T officers to go and see their families and worry about paperwork tomorrow.

A quiet, subdued part of him found himself wishing she would turn up at the bar later.

---

A few hours later the team were sat munching on cheap complimentary peanuts and drinking beers. They had just come from the Chinese restaurant two blocks away and were the most relaxed they had felt in weeks.

Hotch had excused himself from their table as he went to get another drink. As he sat waiting, in his peripheral he saw someone pull up the bar stool next to him.

“What’s got you brooding?”

His lipped twinged upwards, “I’ve been told that’s my default demeanour.”

Y/n laughed lightly, “I suppose that’s the burden of being a leader.”

He turned to her as the bartender walked up, asking if she wanted anything, “I’ll take a pornstar martini, thanks.”

“Nice choice,” Hotch smiled, “I was expecting a scotch or a malt whiskey.”

“You’re not a cocktail man Agent Hotchner?” She jested, enjoying the smile that graced his handsome features.

He raised an eyebrow at her as a signal for her to guess. In the quiet, the bartender placed Hotch’s drink in front of him.

A bright pink sex on the beach with a little orange umbrella.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” She said, her smile growing from ear to ear. Hotch laughed with her, the two enjoying a rare moment of uncomplicated joy.

Hotch leant back in his seat, turning it to face her as she took a drink, “You did excellent work, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Damn right, you couldn’t,” She smirked, “but thank you, Agent Hotchner. Your team are very good at what you do.”

“Call me Aaron,” Hotch said.

“If you call me, y/n,” she responded, he nodded.

Sighing, she took a drink before looking back at him, “You know, I’ve always wanted to see the White House. Maybe I’ll pay you a visit.”

Hotch sat quietly for a moment and then, against his better judgement he responded.

“I’ll be waiting.”

---

next chapter

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau #hotch imagine #hotch x reader #constantcravingwrites

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spencestyles · 3 years ago

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The Other Woman

summary: spencer and meave have a toxic relationship after saving diane and the new agent doesn’t help

pairing: meave x spencer, spencer x BAU!reader

warnings: angst (lowkey), cursing, broken relationship, fluff

words: 4k+

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the team and I stopped Diane from killing Maeve, things were different. When I dreamed about meeting Maeve, I thought things would be perfect, we would be a match made in heaven. But after finding out important things she felt to leave out (like she was engaged), the spark was seeming to fade and just genuinely getting to know her personality. Of course our new agent wasn't any help either.

y/n y/l/n

She was different from any other girl I had met. She was smart and a great listener, she was determined to keep learning. She didn't try to outsmart me like Maeve had begun to do. Her biggest talent and asset to the team was her interrogation skills.

"Brian, I know how you are feeling," y/n said to the unsub. "You are upset your dad left you and upset that he left you with your mother."

"She was never a mother," Brian screamed. "That dirty whore didn't know her left from her right."

"The girls?" y/n asked. "Did they know their right from their left?"

"I wouldn't know, I didn't do anything to them," Brian said.

"Well I do, I looked into their background, all single mothers, husband left. They weren't dirty Brian, they were doin-"

"YES THEY WERE. They are all whores. I tried to help them, to help their children. But they were just like she was, a whore."

Since the first day she arrived, I've been enthralled by her presence. Maeve asked to move in around a month ago, I said no. She was so upset it was almost pitiful. It had been an argument that continued for weeks and was heated tonight at our at home dinner date. "Why, Spencer, why can't I move in with you?" She yelled at me.

"Because I barely know you," I yelled back, quickly calming down. "We may have been talking on the phone, but we have known each other in person for five months. I just, Meave, I'm going through a rough time at work. It wouldn't be good for you to move in right now." I made a large breath as Maeve roughly stood up from the table.

"Is there someone else?" Maeve asked. "That new agent, (wrong name), or whatever-"

"y/n"

"Like I said, whatever. Are you talking to her, is there something going on?"

"Maeve, there is nothing going on between y/n and I," I explained. "She is a new agent, she is young, she is like I was when I joined the BAU. I am just trying to help her get settled."

"Why can't JJ do that? She was young when she joined."

"Because JJ was the communications liaison then, she didn't become a profiler until two years ago."

"Whatever," Maeve said, grabbing her purse. "I'm leaving, I need to think."

Thank God

"Ok, we need to talk about this," I said. Maeve muttered something before slamming the door.

Moments like this made me question the relationship I created with Maeve. Maybe it's because I never really knew her. I knew her job and that she was smart, but I didn't know how clingy she was or bitchy and competitive. I don't blame Diane for being so upset. Why was she so upset about y/n, I mean y/n is gorgeous and smart. But she is so young, she's only 24. Tomorrow was going to be a good day, tomorrow I was finally going to make some decisions about Maeve.

Waking up the next morning felt like a chore. The sound of my phone going off was much worse than my alarm clock.

"Reid."

"Spencie, it's y/n," the angelic voice I was longing to hear was music to my ears at 3 in the morning. "We have a case, JJ called me and told me to call you. Which thinking about it is a little strange- wait that's not the point of this call. I need you to pick me up."

"Yeah I can come get you," I said rushing around. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Thanks Spencie, I owe you big time."

Running around my room, I tried to pick my best outfit. y/n loved when I dressed in blue or purple, so I decided I would dress in blue this fine morning. My light blue button down and my tight navy pants, made me look a sexy professional as I would say, so would Derek (and hopefully y/n). I hated driving, but I would never tell y/n that, she is too cute when singing in the car for me to say no to her.

On my way to her apartment (which was very small and in a terrible area), I began to think about what y/n said on the call. JJ called me and told me to call you. Why wouldn't JJ just call me. I mean I do tell JJ about my problems with Maeve and my schoolboy crush on y/n, but she was so upset when I first said it.

"Maeve is literally your dream girl Spence, why are you trying to stop that? And for y/n, now I know she is smart and wow, she is hot, but Spence, she is 24. She still has a lot of growing up to do. Also, I didn't work my ass off to save Maeve for you to end things with her."

JJ was right, y/n was too young and too naive to know what she wanted. Hell, I didn't even know what I wanted. I fell for a girl over the phone and then realized she's not at all what I thought. I should have known.

Arriving at y/n's apartment building I texted her a quick 'here' before noticing her car tire had been slashed. The passenger door opened and y/n sat down handing me a large coffee in her typical reusable to-go cups. "y/n you didn't have to bring me coffee," I said.

"Spence, it's three in the morning and you are driving," you said with a straight face. "I brought you the coffee so you wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel and we would die." I laughed before taking a big swig of the drink and heading to the office.

"I saw your tire had been slashed, what happened?"

"I don't know, JJ called me so I went out to get my go-bag from the car because I left my good mug in it and I saw the tire was slashed. I have no idea how it happened or why, it's really annoying though, I just got new tires." The situation with y/n's tire was strange, I mean she lives in a complex where nearly twenty cars are out front if they aren't in the back lot. Why only her car? Maybe it was nothing special, just a coincidence.

y/n heard my phone ring and looked at the screen, "It's Maeve," showing me the screen. "Why is your girlfriend calling you at 3:30 in the morning?"

"I have no clue y/n, leave it to ring out. I'll get to her later."

This has happened before. When I drop y/n off from a case that ran late or after a night with the team. I get calls and texts from Maeve enraged. Does she honestly not understand we work together. We live less than six minutes from each other, so when we ride together it's not like either of us are going out of our way.

After spending most of the car ride singing to Taylor Swift, we arrived at Quantico and rushed to the elevators. We weren't late, but y/n liked to be early so she didn't look sweaty for the team.

"Why do you hate looking sweaty?" I asked her.

"Well, when our Unit Chief is a TOTAL dilf, I'd like to at least look nice," she said smiling. I frowned. "Kidding Spence, not totally, but I like to look nice because I am still proving my spot on this team and good hygiene is very respectable."

Of course she has a crush on Hotch, not that she has daddy issues or anything. But they are so close and the validation he gives her is a bit too much to be work appropriate. I'm honestly just so glad its not Derek she has a crush on.

"That makes sense, I'm going to call Maeve to she what she needed," I said stepping towards the conference room. "She's been calling me non stop." y/n nodded as she rubbed paper towels on her armpits.

Right as I was about to dial Maeve, her name flashed across my screen, "Hello."

"Spencer, what the hell," she screamed. "Why were you at y/n's at three in the morning."

"Maeve, tell me where I am right now," I said.

"You are at work Spencer," She answered. "But that is besides the point. Why did YOU pick her up?"

"BECAUSE WE WERE GOING TO WORK AND SHE LIVES SIX MINUTES FROM ME," I yelled, tired of her assumptions and bitchy, clingy behavior. "JJ called y/n and told her to tell me we had a case and her car's tire was slashed so she asked for a ride. There is no harm in that."

Maeve let out a large breath, "I don't want you around her anymore."

"What, I can't do that, we work together," I laughed.

"Quit," she said shortly. "Or tell Hotch that she is terrible to work with and isn't qualified for the team."

"Maeve, you are angry. I'm not quitting and y/n is very qualified at her job, Hotch wouldn't believe me."

"Then why do you help her if she's qualified?"

"I told you that last night, this conversation is over." I hung up the phone hearing her protests. I looked over and saw the team looking at me, they obviously had heard the interaction. y/n looked confused. Why was she being brought into this?

The team walked into the conference room, "Garcia, you can begin," Hotch said. Turning to me he said, "We will talk about this before we leave." I nodded. I didn't listen to Garcia presenting the case, but I looked at y/n. She looked like she had been crying, I don't know why, hopefully it wasn't me. After the presentation, Hotch gave us thirty minutes to gather ourselves before we needed to be on the jet.

He pulled me into his office, "What was that in the conference room?"

"Maeve thinks I'm cheating on her with y/n," I said. "It's not a big deal."

Hotch looked at me sternly, "Well it becomes a big deal when our newest agent tells me she should transfer because she doesn't like that she's interfering with your relationship. Now y/n cannot be transferred, she is an asset to this team and the team loves her. You need to sort your shit out with Maeve." I nodded and walked out the door over to y/n's desk where she was getting her small things together.

As soon as she saw me walking over, she began to walk away, "y/n wait."

"I'm going to see Penelope," She said, not looking at me. Even without looking directly at me, the tear stains were evident.

I looked over at JJ who had seen the whole interaction, "JJ what do I do?"

"Well Spencer, you need to either break up with Maeve or get over your crush on y/n," She said sarcastically. "In my opinion, you should break up with Maeve anyway. After hearing that phone call, I think she sounded toxic and manipulative. Give y/n some space, she just got a lot thrown at her. She thinks she's a homewrecker."

I sighed, "I know I need to end things with Maeve, but I feel so horrible."

"You feel horrible even though she treats you like that?" JJ asked, shocked.

"I just don't want her to think I led her on or I actually was cheating on her with y/n."

"You may not be cheating on her with y/n, but Spence," I looked up at her. "You like y/n, you can't deny that. y/n still is the other woman, whether its intimate or not."

JJ was right, I was about to walk up to Penelope's office when Derek reminded us we had to leave. Looking ahead, I saw y/n talking with Hotch. She looked upset and Hotch looked concerned, but when he looked over at me, he was pissed.

As we made it to the entrance of the jet, I told JJ and Derek I would meet them on the jet, wanting to talk to Hotch, "Hey, what did y/n say to you?"

"She told me this was her last case," Hotch said. "She gave Strauss resignation forms and is going to be an elementary art teacher. Now she isn't even transferring. Fix this now or you will be suspended from cases and you will be staying back and doing paperwork until I see fit. You and your relationship problems should not have led to y/n leaving the team."

To say I was shocked was an understatement. y/n was leaving the team. She was leaving because of me. Because I was so enchanted by her smile and the slight gleam in her eye.

Worst of all, she isn't even staying in the FBI. She is going to do the job she said she always wanted to do after the FBI. y/n always told me she wanted to stay in the FBI and then when it got to be too much, she wanted to teach art.

You may say I'm a terrible person for basically emotionally cheating on Maeve, but Maeve and I would never work in the long run. She may have been my back then, but she will never be my forever.

Walking onto the jet, I felt the hostile stares of my teammates. y/n sat at the corner of the jet, alone, reading her favorite book, Little Women. While the book is very boring in my opinion, I understand the appeal to y/n. A strong female lead who doesn't believe in the common standards in her time period. Much like Jo March, y/n was strong willed. She always put up a challenge to the ideas she opposed.

I unfortunately, was Theodore Lawrence in this situation. In love with Jo March, but I needed to show it to her. The only and strongest difference was that I am in a relationship.

I need to end it with Maeve.

That however, will be easier said than done. Maeve is much like Amy March: annoying, greedy, easily angered, jealous, and most of all the one that is settled for.

But no, I, Spencer Reid, will not settle for Amy, I am going to get Jo.

I was walking over to y/n when I was stopped by Rossi, "Don't make it any worse than it already is, kid." Appalled, I looked at him and then the team. Their faces all said the same thing only Rossi was able to make into words. I decided to sit not near them and not near y/n. I sat by myself and created a plan to keep y/n at the BAU.

The plan went as so:

1. Convince y/n to stay and explain relationship problems with Maeve

2. Break up with Maeve

3. Tell y/n what truly happened with Maeve (phone calls, kidnapping, and after)

4. Tell y/n feelings (and pray she feels the same)

This plan was definitely going to be easier said than done. The hardest part being breaking up with Maeve.

The case wasn't eventful and easy to figure out. The unsub was killing people who looked like his wife that left him at the altar. Not once did Hotch put me with y/n, understandably. Instead, y/n spent her time with JJ and Hotch.

I decided to not talk to anyone because I needed to devise my plan. I needed to break up with Maeve, but make sure I kept y/n out of it. That was going to be the challenge, Maeve was going to blame the break up on y/n. I decided to text Maeve a quick 'jet is landing. I'm coming over. We have things to discuss.'

I turned off my phone, knowing Maeve would start blowing it up. The jet landed and I went to begin step one, but Derek stopped me from going towards her further, "Pretty Boy, I know you want things to get right with Pretty Girl, but give her space. Just a little and sort things out with Maeve. After hearing what JJ and y/n have said about her, you should end things.

I nodded and sprinted to my car, seeing as y/n got a ride with Penelope. The ride over to Maeve's house was tense, even though I was alone. I couldn't stop thinking of the outcomes that could occur tonight.

Making it to Maeve's apartment, I kept reciting all the things I could say to her.

"I don't feel a spark anymore." Decent.

"You are a controlling bitch." Too harsh.

"I never really knew you." Getting there.

"I think we need to try new things." Fuck. I had made it to the door and I didn't know what to say without the possibility of hurting her. Breaking up with her is the only thing I can do to save my friendship with y/n. Its also the only thing I can do to save myself from this toxic mess of a relationship.

I knocked on the door and it was immediately opened by a very angry Maeve, "Spencer, finally you are here. You were taking so long I thought something may have happened, were you with y/n?"

"No Maeve, I wasn't with y/n," I sighed. "In fact we aren't even talking."

"Well that's perfect," Maeve said. "Why do you look upset about that?"

I looked at her surprised she didn't understand, "Because Maeve, she heard our fucking fight yesterday morning over the phone. She isn't talking to me because she thinks she ruined our relationship-"

"She did-"

"NO SHE DIDN'T MEAVE!" I screamed. "y/n is leaving the team because you are jealous of anyone in my life. First it was JJ, so I pushed JJ away. Then Derek, so I pushed Derek away. You have ruined all of my friendships with my coworkers and are now making work a living hell. y/n didn't ruin our relationship because it was already fucking ruined Maeve. How did you not see it?”

"What? Spence?" Maeve went to touch my arm.

I stepped away, "No Maeve, this is over. We are over. After we stopped Diane, I thought we would be perfect. But we aren't, we aren't good for each other at all. Whenever I accomplish anything at all, big or small, you fucking disregard it and talk about something you did. I am helping y/n, I like y/n. y/n is nice and she listens to my facts and she doesn't judge me for having feelings."

"Spencer, do you think I do that?" Maeve asked with a fake sweet act.

"Think? No Maeve, you do all of those things. Yesterday you told me to quit my job or tell Hotch y/n wasn't qualified. You should be supporting me. This relationship is not good for me. I am leaving, none of your stuff is at my place so you don't need to come over ever again." I quickly left the apartment, ignoring Maeve's pleas for forgiveness.

Sitting in my car, I quickly drove off to y/n's house. I needed to see her, to explain to her what had been happening.

YOUR POV

When I met Spencer, he was my mentor. Very quickly after that however, he became my best friend on the team. Since we lived so close together, it was common for us to carpool to and from work and work events.

I quickly learned about Maeve once I began to get closer with Spencer. Spencer's manipulative, psycho bitch of a girlfriend that was out to ruin my life. I had never done anything to try and involve myself in their relationship, but when they have problems it's always my fault.

After hearing Maeve and Spencer's phone call, it was a no brainer for me to leave the team. However, I knew that wasn't enough for me to get rid of the taunts I had been receiving from Maeve. And by taunts I mean she slashed my tire. I was offered a job at one of DC's most prestigious private schools to teach art and after the phone call, I decided to take it.

Now, I wasn't upset that Spencer didn't like me back. I was upset that Maeve was making him decide between us when nothing had ever happened. I thought Spencer was cute, definitely, and there were times when we were a little too touchy or flirtatious. But, I saw it as Penelope and Derek and I'm sure he did too.

I sat in Penelope's car trying to focus on the road whilst she was screaming at me, "WHY ARE YOU LEAVING? You can't leave y/n. You just got here and we like you here. Maeve and Spencer have had problems for a few months, it's not because of you. JJ and Maeve also got in a fight because he thought Spencer was too handsy with her and I've barely ever seen them touch.”

"Pen, I'm leaving because I have a great job opportunity," I tried to reason. "I was eventually going to take it, but I don't want to hurt Spencer's relationship." Penelope sighed, giving up her attempt to have me stay. We got our Wendy's before Penelope went to drop me off.

As Penelope drove up to my apartment, I noticed a figure standing in front of my house. It looked familiar.

Spencer

"Pen, so you think I can stay over tonight?" I asked.

"No, go talk to pretty boy, have him explain," Penelope responded.

I walked up to my apartment, Spencer looked at me. His face lighting up under my front porch light. He had flowers in his hands. Daisies. "Spencer, what are you doing here?"

SPENCER'S POV

"Spencer, what are you doing here?"

"If you'd let me in I think you need to know what has been happening," I said handing her the flowers.

"Okay, come in," She said grabbing the flowers and unlocking the door. "That you for the flowers."

"Daisies are your favorite," I said quietly. "You never told me, but you always said you liked the name Daisy for your daughter and I just assumed."

"You guessed correctly Spencer," y/n said putting the daisies in a jar.

I sat on her couch, the one I had sat on to watch countless episodes of Dr. Who when I needed to get away from Maeve.

"Can I explain?" I asked as she walked over with a coffee.

"Sure Spencer, but I don't think any explanation will make me stay," she answered.

I sighed, "Well you know the whole Maeve back story right?" she nodded. "Well after we saved her things were great. I was happy, so happy and so in love. But around the time I started to die down from the holy shit you just almost died phase, I began to notice all the flaws and toxic traits in her and our relationship."

y/n nodded, "And you couldn't see any of that before because you only ever talked over the phone?"

"Correct. Maeve, she is very smart. So smart that she often would say things to undermine the fact I went into the FBI and as she would say instead of something useful. At first I thought it was a harmless joke, but when she began to say things like that in front of the team, it crossed a line. When I confronted her, she accused me of lying, saying she never said anything like that. She has always been decently jealous, she was jealous of JJ and even jealous of Alex Blake. Blake's spot is the one you filled, she was like a mom to me. Now, she is jealous of you.”

y/n looked motionless, "Why is she jealous of me Spencer?"

I looked over at her nervously, "y/n we are very close right?"

"Yes, Spencer, you're like my best friend."

I nodded, "yes and Maeve didn't like that. She was very jealous of you because at one team dinner before you joined, Garcia showed us a picture of you from Instagram. When everyone saw the picture, everyone was like wow she is so pretty and you know, you are very gorgeous and I'm a bad liar so I agreed. Maeve and I got into a huge fight because of that. Ever since, she is like really jealous and then we sorta became a mentor, mentee relationship because you are so young and I was so young when I joined.”

y/n looked surprised. Did she not know the team thought that about her. However, y/n nodded, telling me to continue.

"Then I realized how close we lived and we started to carpool and hang out. This was when the aggressive texts and phone calls began. The team knew I needed to break up with her, but I didn't want to make it look like we were seeing each other, you would never like someone like me.”

y/n laughed, "She was jealous because we carpooled? Did you know she was the one that slashed my tire that morning, I got a clip of it on my Ring doorbell."

"Seriously? Sounds about right. Anyway, I broke up with her. She isn't what I want y/n. I want to be with you. And I know you might not like me and-"

y/n cut me off with a laugh, "Spencer are you serious?" I looked at her confused. "I have had a crush on you since I first met the team. I was heartbroken when I found out you had a girlfriend."

"Actually?"

"Spence, why would I lie to you?"

"Will you come back to the BAU?"

"I'll talk to Strauss, but I think if we want to do anything we should wait. I don't want people to actually think we were having an affair."

I laughed, "Definitely not. You were the other woman though. Kept me up all night thinking, dreaming. You infatuate me y/n y/l/n."

"Well I am very glad we got that done with," y/n said. "Watching you with Maeve was like watching the end of Derrick and Addison's relationship on Grey's Anatomy."

"What?"

"Never mind Spence, we will have to save this topic for another day."

—————

in light of the recent allegations against mgg, i will no longer be posting mgg content. however, mgg is not spencer reid, spencer reid is a character. please understand that at this moment i am working on a new username

* IF ANYONE HAS NEW USERNAME IDEAS PLEASE SEND THEM TO ME or i may just be changing to spencerscumslut

#spencer reid #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #arron hotchner #dad!spencer reid #spencer #reid #spencer reid x meave #meave donovan

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gubler-me-up · 4 years ago

Text

Easy Work

Request: Hi. Could do a fic where reader is the last person the team suspect to be badass? She's the baby of the team. They're on a case, and she takes down an un-sub 3 times her weight and size, and arrests him all by herself. Spencer, who fancies her, is the most shocked, after Morgan and they all agree never to mess with the baby of the team again.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I hope this is badass enough for you! I tried my best to make the reader as fierce as possible. Hope you enjoy it and it sparks your inner fighter 🤼‍♀️

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Angst? Fluff? Angsty fluff?

Content warning: Mentions of violence, bones popping out, aggression

Word count: 2k

-------------

“Remember Thomas Wilson is most likely armed, so be careful where you go. Do your checks before entering any space he can possibly be hiding out in,” Hotch told the team.

All seven of you made your way to the SUV’s to go to the location Garcia had sent to your phones. It had been a week of nonstop tracking this guy and his actions only kept escalating. He was known for his firearm skills as he was military trained. From the picture and information Garcia found on him, he was a 6’5, 280 pounds and in good shape.

You hopped in the car with Morgan and Reid as Hotch, JJ, Emily and Rossi took the other SUV. You sat in the back while Morgan drove and Spencer was in the passenger seat. You usually rode with Hotch, but Morgan insisted you ride with him. He saw you as his little sister, so he didn’t want you to get hurt on his watch. You told him he should keep an eye on Reid over you in the field.

To be fair, the whole team saw you as a child to be protected. Being the youngest of the group was annoying when it came to being out on the field. Everyone felt as if they had to put their lives at risk to protect you even though you had reassured them on several occasions you could protect yourself. Even Garcia said she would go out of her way to beat an unsub up for you if need be and she wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Do you think he’s at this location?” You asked out of the blue.

“Well, Garcia picked up his phone signal there. If he’s not there and it’s a trap, we already have bomb squad on the way to detect if anything’s off,” Morgan answered.

You looked out the window into the night sky as you thought about Thomas Wilson’s profile. He was dishonourably discharged from the military after he physically assaulted his commander. This led him to want to take revenge on any ex-military higher-ups and their families. He had broken into three homes where he physically beat his commanders before ending their lives by one bullet hole through their skull. If their wife was there, he would shoot them execution-style.

Everything he did was organized and deliberate. It was out of character for him to have his phone on him or even a detectable signal. It was even stranger he would be out in no man’s land of Tennessee rather in Memphis where his murders took place.

“I think he’s setting us up for something bad,” Reid said.

“You think so too, right? Do you think this is his end game? Taking us down with him?” You asked.

“Well, we’re about to find out,” Morgan said.

As everyone drove down the dimly lit back roads to the location Garcia gave you, you still felt as if something wasn’t right. You looked out into the farmland into an abyss of never-ending darkness. You sighed out of frustration as you knew Wilson was up to something foul. Morgan heard your sigh and glimpsed at you from the rearview mirror.

“Calm down, Y/N. No need to feel scared,” he said.

“Scared? You think I’m scared of this guy?” You scoffed.

“A little, yeah. Don’t worry, Reid and I have your back,” he assured you.

You rolled your eyes. “I have my own back, but thanks for the offer.”

“Y/N I can pick you up with my pinky finger and not crack a sweat,” he joked.

“Keep joking like that and I’ll take a needle and pop both of your inflated biceps,” you snapped back.

“I think Y/N might be right about something being off,” Reid interrupted.

Morgan pulled into a long driveway leading up to an abandoned farmhouse. The other half of the team were already there along with the police officers who had trailed behind them. The bomb squad was there as well checking for any possible bombs he had planted. The team was scouring the area for any sign of Wilson, but it didn’t appear as if they were having any luck.

Morgan, Reid and you hopped out of the SUV, guns in one hand and flashlights in another as you walked up to the rest of the team. You made sure to be on high alert. There weren’t any lights passed the driveway, so it was the perfect set up for something out of the blue to happen.

You looked out into the fields as you tried to see if there was any movement. You felt someone touch your shoulder. You quickly turned around with your gun pointed to whoever was touching you. It was Reid behind you with a concerned look. You sighed as you lowered your gun.

“Spence, you can’t be sneaking up on me in the dark like this,” you said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just checking to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

“I’ll be okay when we catch this-”

“Everyone stand back!”

You and Reid turned to look over to the farmhouse. The bomb squad had opened the door and from what you could see was a man strapped to a chair. You squinted your eyes a bit to see what was strapped around him. As from what you could tell it was a bomb.

“I knew it,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What?” Reid asked.

“I knew this was a trap. He has to be somewhere close,” you said.

You looked off to your right side as you looked into the field again. You didn’t know why, but you started walking in that direction. You felt in your gut there was something or someone out there looking back at you.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Reid asked as he grabbed your arm.

You looked back at him. “He’s out there.”

He looked around to see where, but couldn’t see anything. He looked at you confused. You pulled your arm away from him as you continued your walk towards the darkness of the field.

“Don’t go out there by yourself,” he said.

You whipped your head around to look at him. “Well, are you gonna just stand there or follow me?”

“Let’s at least notify the team before w-”

“There’s a man with a bomb around him right now. We don’t have time to plan out a big manhunt. We just have to hunt.”

You turned back around and held your gun up with your flashlight below it. You picked up your pace as you went through the field. You could hear Reid’s footsteps behind you as he followed you closely.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” You heard Hotch yell out.

You ignored him as you continued your journey through the fields. You knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this, but you felt useless just standing there waiting and hoping the bomb squad would deactivate the bomb. You soon heard someone running from behind you. You sighed out of frustration as you knew who it was.

You turned around to see Morgan sprinting towards you and Reid. He looked as if he was going to yell at you for straying from the group, but his concern over you overshadowed it. You rolled your eyes as you were getting tired of Morgan and everyone else on the team thinking you were incapable of anything.

“Y/N, you’re walking aimlessly into a field with no idea where this guy is? Is this what you learned during training?” He asked.

“I learned not to stand there and do nothing. He’s out there somewhere just watching us,” you said.

“Well, at least bring a couple of us along with you for extra precaution,” he said.

“I have Reid. Isn’t that enough?” You said.

“I just feel as if it’s best to have someone more physically capable with you two,” he said.

You scoffed. “Are you saying Reid and I aren’t physically capable to hold our own? That’s a bold statement to make.”

“Reid’s proved he can be physical when need be, but you? You’ve been in the field for a year and you’re a bit small, so it’s easy for you to be overpowered.”

“It’s easy for me to be overpowered? Derek, I can kick some serious a-”

Before your sentence could be completed there were shots fired from the direction you were going in. Reid immediately pushed you down as he and Morgan crouched down to the ground. You looked over to where the shots were coming from and you could see a dark figure running away. Your adrenaline raced through your body as you jumped up and started sprinting towards him.

“Y/N,” Morgan yelled.

His cry out for your name didn’t slow you down as you picked up the pace. He had stopped firing shots as soon as he knew you were chasing after him. It seemed as if he sucked at multitasking, so you had an advantage. His running and not looking back to shoot meant he was most likely not going to keep looking back.

You heard running coming from behind you and knew it was Morgan and Reid finally catching up to you. Men could be so slow sometimes. By the time you were close enough to Wilson, Morgan and Reid had finally caught up to your pace. They were just in time for your combative demonstration.

You jumped and kicked Wilson in the back of his right knee. He collapsed immediately, dropping his gun. You got on top of him, prepared for a struggle. He jerked his body to the right in an attempt to knock you off. You combated that by stringing your arm under his arm and your other arm stringing around his neck. You gripped your hands together to tighten your hold. You then planted your knee on his left elbow and jerked his body back.

He let out a screech in pain as you felt his elbow pop out from underneath your knee. You kept him in a tight chokehold. He made the mistake of trying to squirm out of it. You aggressively jerked your upper arm up and he let out a screen as you dislocated his shoulder. You then dug your knee in his lower back to make sure he stayed in place as you cuffed him. You reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone.

You shook your head. “This was your end game huh?”

“Y/N?”

You looked back to see Morgan standing there in shock. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so speechless before. You looked over at Reid, who was never speechless, but he looked just as lost for words. They both walked over and helped you pick up Wilson, who yelled in anguish as they touched his arms.

“I think I got it from here. Y/N, I think you deserve a break from being a badass,” Morgan said.

“I told you I was capable,” you said.

“Sorry, for ever doubting you. I don’t think I’ll be messing with you for a long time after this,” he said.

You smiled as the three of you escorted Wilson back towards the farmhouse. As you reached, you found out the bomb had been deactivated. You handed over the cellphone to the bomb squad. You were going to go towards Hotch and the others as they talked to the man who was strapped in the chair. You couldn’t help feel as staring at you from behind. You turned around to see Reid looking at you with a different look than usual. He looked as if he was meeting you for the first time.

“You did great out there, Y/N,” he said.

“Hey, I may be little, but I do have the skills to get rough when need be,” you said.

“Remind me never to make you angry,” he said.

You smiled. “I could never hurt you. I’d only use my strength to protect you.”

“Even from Morgan?” He joked.

You walked up to him and gave him a pat on his forearm. “It would be my pleasure to protect you from Morgan.”

-----

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection

MASTERLIST

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #criminal minds request

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notmrskennedy · 4 years ago

Text

Friendliness

A/N - ha so i just wrote this - no editing we die like men. here’s the alternate ending to my other post Likeability (this one is the more predictable one y’all will probably like whoops) if you’ve read the other one, just skip to the end it’s all the same in the middle

Summary - The Team meets a very unfriendly scientist which Spencer’s taken a fancy to

W/C - 2.9k (whoops)

Warnings - Mild Anatomy/bones/etc discussion, a pinch and change of swearing

----

Luke is holding his stomach in his hands. He could usually pride himself on keeping his cool, keeping his head—and stomach—together during a case. He’d seen enough dead bodies that this shouldn’t have thrown him like he’d just sailed twelve foot waves in a dingy.

But he is, after all, standing over a mass grave. Watching a too giddy scientist dig up the bodies.

You’ve captured everyone’s attention, for various reasons. Rossi is vaguely amused by your joyous shouting of bones and your rat moustached assistant. Luke can’t tear his eyes away from the car wreck—are you supposed to swing bones around like baseball bats? Reid seems more interested in your bad jokes and coveralls than he is in solving the case.

The rat assistant—Stewart Walsh—squeezes between Luke and Reid, scuttling like some kind of diseased turtle. “Doctor Y/L/N!”

You barely stop pouring over the mud covered pelvis in your hands to even acknowledge him.

“I just thought you should know that Dr. Evanston just got here.”

You look up, toss the bone to him, and snort. “Tell him the soil samples are four miles due east from here.”

“What’s wrong with Evanston?” Luke asks to no one in particular it seems, waving Stewart off to run for a group of approaching nerds in coveralls.

Ignoring the question or maybe Luke, you just turn back to your search. Elbow deep in mud, being nice must not have been on the to-do list. Reid leans over, hands in his pockets, and whispers, “Evanston stole one of her research papers. I thought he was going to get his teeth kicked in—“

“Skull!” you holler. Luke isn’t stupid enough to miss the glare reserved for the sheepish Dr. Reid.

He clears his throat. “Thoughts so far, doctor?”

“I’m thinking beetles,” is all you say before turning back to your skull. Luke might not know many scientists, but he doesn’t think that most of them look at human skulls like its the Mona Lisa. Like this fat piece of bone held the answers to the universe inside its empty eye sockets.

“Beetles?” Luke coughs. Rossi just shakes his head. Pretends this isn’t a conversation he’s having. Reid is still studying you like Luke might study infiltration schematics. Stewart runs up, out of breath, very rose coloured.

You’re eyes are sparkling as you wade over to them with a new radius bone in your hands. Everyone bends like they know what they’re looking at and you point along the edge of the bone. “It’s a subtle difference but these bones have been cleaned before being buried. My guess is carrion beetles. They’re very hard workers. And—“ you switch to pointing at the radial head— “minute scoring and kerf marks. These look pretty old, so I’m assuming we’re getting close to the bottom.”

“So our unsub dismembered his victims,” Rossi begins, “then cleaned the pieces?”

You nod and hand off the bone to a very blushing Stewart. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to examine all the bones. There’s nothing definitive yet. What a hobbyist though, right?”

You chuckle to yourself and dive back into fishing out more finger and wrist bones. Luke turns, runs his hands over his face, and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Where did we find her?”

Rossi shrugs, “FBI easter egg hunt.” Luke blinks, while Rossi chuckles at his gullibility. “Come on, the doctor’s the best in the field. Good kid, I can tell.”

“Y/N’s great,” Spencer absently adds on, too busy staring at you. You’re explaining different types of dismemberment to Stewart like you’re discussing the rain. Luke grips onto his stomach just a little tighter.

“Y/N, huh?” Luke teases, momentarily forgetting the unsettling feeling in his gut about you. “You two, uh, friends or something?”

It’s Reid’s turn to stumble. “Yeah, but it’s—we’re just—we’re just—.”

Rossi shakes his head, slaps Reid on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, just friends. So, tell me. Do you talk about dismemberment before or after you make out?”

JJ wants to beg Emily not to make her go down into the basement. You’re down there. She knows it’s childish to be this avoidant—you are just a person after all. A creepy, psychopathic weirdo that makes JJ’s gut churn. She gets why Spencer’s taken to you—shared love of science and random trivia. She does. But that doesn’t mean JJ enjoys the cold ass morgue, smiling along as you ramble. Most of everyone’s limited contact with you has involved random facts and Stewart’s too intimate knowledge of fracture patterns.

There had been ten minutes of reassurance from Emily that you were, in fact, not a horrible person. Ended with JJ making the cold and dark trek down to the morgue. She couldn’t imagine working down here all day long. No one to talk to, no one to strategise with, no where to go. Maybe it suited you. No one would have to listen.

“—don’t know what to do!” echoes across the bottom of the stairwell, the morgue’s doors cracked open. The distress breaks JJ’s heart. Your voice stops her dead in her tracks.

“They don’t hate you,” Spencer’s voice comes after. Gentler, softer. “They—they just don’t know you yet.”

“They don’t want to, Spence!” and JJ winces with the words. It always hurt more when the truth came out in that tone. “I get it! You know? I work with human remains and don’t bring my people skills with me when I’m on the job, but—that shouldn’t matter!”

JJ winces again, tries to ignore how those are nothing short of teary sniffles echoing through her ears. She leans back against the wall and has no idea what to do. Spencer had obviously been down here for hours. Knew you well enough to get the teary truth. What could she do now? Interrupt?

She’d walked into hostage situations less freakin’ stressful than this.

“You’re right,” Spencer soothes, steadfast and strong, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t—“

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. JJ doesn’t want to hear the strangled touch to your voice. Doesn’t want to hear the break. “They’re your friends and I’m just your—“

“Doctor!” Stewart calls and JJ could scream. You’re his what?

At least, it’s as good as any moment to intrude.

“What, Stewart?” you snapped, already broken away from Spencer with wet cheeks and stained glasses. You wipe them off haphazardly with the tail end of Spencer’s sweater sleeve—JJ couldn’t help but smile, even if it’s a little strangled.

Stewart jumps like a wet cat and tosses a bundle of files into your hands. “Beetles.”

One word snatches the tears from your face. Snatches you away from Spencer’s side for one of the dozen skeletons on the tables. There was no reason to think that she’ll get her report from you now. With a rib bone in one hand and contemplation in your features—JJ can’t decide how unnerved she is—you’re a little too concentrated.

Stewart scuttles around you. A little too attentive. A little too cherry tinted. Yep. No reports to be had from either of you. JJ turned to Spencer instead, hoping that maybe he’d be helpful. Plastered up like a billboard, JJ knows that saccharine smile isn’t going to get her anywhere.

“Spence?”

He hums, halfheartedly tearing his eyes away. “Yeah?”

“I need the latest report for Emily, but I don’t think—“

“I’ll—just a second, JJ.” Spencer grins, sugary sweet, and slips away. JJ doesn’t miss how he places a hand on your shoulder as he passes. How you barely even notice that quite intimate contact. She also doesn’t miss how Stewart’s face sours at the action, how his eyes narrow enough that Spencer feasibly should’ve noticed.

Reports in hand a minute later, JJ leans over to Spencer. Elbows him in the arm. “Stewart seems pretty jealous. Any reason for that?”

Spencer shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

Rossi doesn’t have an opinion. Everyone keeps asking—oh Rossi, you’re the wisest of us all, what should we do about poor little Y/N? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. You are just some scientist who is doing a thousand percent better job than any other forensics ‘expert’ he’s had the pleasure of working with.

Your lab doesn’t smell. You don’t smell. Is there anything more to ask for?

But he does get the brute of having to make the trek down to the morgue—god, his knees alone—and receives most of the reports from the not as horrible as everyone thinks Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Who is joyfully humming while squinting over one of the skeleton’s hands.

“Hey, doc,” he calls and you look up at him with an adorable sort of grin. “Got anything new?”

“Sure,” you chirp. Hesitate to wave him over. “If you want the details, that is.”

Rossi shakes his head, pulls up a stool to sit next to you and your subject. “I like to have as much knowledge as I can. You never know what will lead you to your un-sub.”

You settle your elbows on the table, straighten a stray finger bone. The team shouldn’t be worried about you being a psychopath. You’re dedicated, careful, attentive. Rossi hopes that if he ever gets turned into human remains, you’re the one looking over him. There’s been more care put into one skeleton than into his three combined marriages.

“You’re in luck,” you answer, “I’ve got a lot to tell you about our attacker. You’ve got time, right?”

Rossi nods, smiles. “Plenty.”

Penelope still hasn’t met you and that kind of pisses her off. You haven’t made it upstairs once? She flies into some dingy Wyoming hovel of a police station for like a week and no one’s thought to bring you upstairs? Rude.

She’s sitting in JJ’s desk chair, waiting for her and Luke to get back from interviewing a potential lead—some ex-felon who fit your makeshift profile. Reid’s scouring over some boring geographical profile, trying not to get annoyed as she nervously—angrily—rants about the case to him. She knows he’s tuning her out, but her work’s been put on the back burner until someone comes up with something to give her.

There’s only so much a computer can find and she’s no profiler.

It’s about five minutes after Reid snapped and left to get a coffee refill, when she picks up a call from the desk. “Hello?”

Creaking metal and shuddering breathing comes first. “Set the scalpel down” comes second. She swallows, silent, and panicking. What the heck is she supposed to do? Paying attention to those hostage negotiation seminars that she definitely didn’t go to would’ve come in handy right about now.

Said scalpel clatters onto some metal table, followed by a strong, “You really don’t want to do this. Please put the gun down.”

Oh god, this is happening.

“You just—“ a male voice snips, bellowing out, “YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

“I do look at you, Stewart,” you plead just as JJ and Luke clamour through the bullpen’s door. Penelope puts the call on speaker, mutes it, and screams for them.

“I don’t know what to do,” Penelope sobs professionally, “someone’s got a gun.”

JJ runs for Emily’s office while Reid returns heedlessly. Luke puts a soft hand on Penelope’s cold one and squeezes. Newbie or not, it’s appreciated as the man’s voice returns. “I’ve tried for so long to get you to—to just—just look at me! I’ve done so much!”

“I know, Stewart,” you ease and Reid tenses. Nearly drops his coffee. “It’s not your fault. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Stewart sobs; Penelope can only imagine how crazy this kid must be.

“Did you leave all those bodies for me, Stewart?” you question and everyone holds their breath. Luke squeezes harder on her hand. Reid’s twitching like a rabbit’s nose, a death grip on his mug, frozen as a Michigan pond.

Stewart sniffles. Probably nods. Penelope doesn’t know whether to run or sit or cry. She decides it’s probably cry, but instead her fingers start moving to record the call, trace the office origin.

“It was a great puzzle, Stewart, it was really genius. It was a fun case to follow, you know that.” You swallow hard, metal tinkles through the speaker. Please, Penelope begs, don’t let them kill each other. I haven’t met the doctor yet!

“Why did you kill these girls, Stewart?” your voice is so gentle and lulling Penelope almost forgets that she’s listening to you try to save your own life.

“I wanted you to look,” he says, sniffles. “I wanted you. I want you, Y/N. I want you to love me.”

It’s either her computer beeping or someone falling through a table or a gunshot. She doesn’t know. She’s crying too hard to care.

Tara doesn’t know when she started to run—probably just after JJ, Luke, and Reid barrelled passed her by the bathroom shouting about the situation—but she’s almost to the morgue doors, right on Reid’s heels. Lord almighty, she feels so stupid. She’d had enough little one on one chats with Stewart to know he was some sort of psycho in disguise. To know that something was wrong with that kid. No one could last more than three minutes with your grad student assistant without wanting to take an eyeball out—his or theirs it didn’t matter. She’d let herself believe you when you told her that all forensic anthropologists seem like that. That there was nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about her ass.

Luke’s the first to storm the morgue, expecting what Tara is: you, dead, on the floor with Stewart on the brink of killing himself. But they stop and they stare and Reid beams on with the absurd look on your face.

You’re shaking with rage, pointing a gun at a very unconscious, crumpled, bleeding Stewart Walsh. Your teeth are bared in what Tara would consider out of a comic book—ludicrous and of someone who’s completely lost their mind. JJ makes the mistake of asking if you’re alright.

“Alright?” you chirp, feral and ravenous. JJ and Luke shrink back as you shout, “I lived in Honduras for three years! This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s my third fucking kidnapping!”

“T-third?” Luke croaks.

“Third!” you shout again and recklessly set your gun on the table. Spencer grins, which sets you off further. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been accommodating. But this is my fourth psychotic grad student! I fucking swear—!”

Stewart groans—thank god he’s alive—and Spencer, thankfully, rushes forward to catch you before you can take anything else out on the kid. Tara’s heard rumours about mysterious other instances of your being under arrest. Illegal transportation of goods was one thing, police brutality was another. The scalpel sticking out of his knee is bad enough.

She helps Luke haul Stewart to his feet, reeking of desperation and a much needed psych eval. JJ follows close behind, closes the morgue doors behind them. But not before they hear your muffled sobs and Spencer’s smiling.

“You got him, Y/N.”

“No, Spence,” you correct, and Tara can’t help but be proud, “I kicked the snot out of him.”

Emily is barely awake when she sees it. JJ’s soft breathing next to her is lulling by itself, let alone if you add in Rossi’s rhythmic snoring and Luke’s idle whispers of sleep talk. Emily could do with some sleep and maybe a few days off. They could all use a few days off, especially after coming to terms with the fact a grad student had killed 12 women just to get a little action.

From a scientist who freely admitted to enjoying the company of bones over real people.

Alive people.

No wonder Stewart had done what he’d done.

Emily turns in her spot, lays back against the wall of the airplane and the seat. After nearly five decades—she’s never thinking about that again—of plane rides, she can comfortably say she can sleep anywhere. With any amount of noise, or cold, or pain.

But her eyes are accidentally open when she peaks around the seat cushion. Spies the Wild Dr. Reid in his natural habitat, reading some ridiculously long book and…carding his fingers through your hair? He’s got a lock curled up around his finger, gently twisting it as he reads. You’re sleeping—knocked the fuck out—in his lap, gripping loosely onto his leg.

You deserve the sleep, Emily decides with a smile. You’d worked the hardest on the case, up for nearly four days with as little rest as you can manage. How Stewart managed to stay awake enough to attack you is beyond Emily. She’s missed out on a few hours just today and she’s losing the battle with her eyelids.

No one ever asked her opinion of you. Probably didn’t have to. You were not the easiest to like, but you’d captured her respect and a bit of her heart when you’d said at the beginning of the case: “I’m an excavator by trade—I’m at archeological digs most of the time—so it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that these ladies are murder victims. I don’t think I’ll sleep until I’ve got names for them. And maybe the murderer on my table.”

Emily understood the unease, the apprehension. Why everyone was relieved when you’d turned down the plane ride she’d offered you. How they all bit back groans when Emily had insisted. But they’ll have to get used to it, Emily thinks and she settles again. Because they’ll see you again. No doubt about it. The way you’re wrapped up around Spencer, how you hold tighter when the jet bounces a touch, says just that much anyway.

#no editing lads #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years ago

Text

“don’t leave me”

hello, hi!

i definitely don’t think this is a one-off thing anymore and this blog may be on the way to merging into a harry styles + matthew gray gubler blog so i’d like to think that that is a new exciting venture people will . i’m really enjoying writing about a new scene, a new character and a new life to plan out and write about. the stories don’t essentially follow each other so they can be read anyhow and in any way but i’d like to think they all follow the same storyline/timeline so they link in that way.

like, reblog and give me some feedback. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after.

thank you. enjoy.

“don’t leave me” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 2.1k.

* if you haven’t watched criminal minds then this does contain some spoilers to the show that you may want to dodge if you are thinking of starting the series up. *

summary; spencer struggles to come to terms with emily’s return and the betrayal of his friends.

“Spencer, look, we’ve got to talk about this.”

YN came to a stop with what she was doing when she saw her boyfriend and JJ starting a conversation in the station’s negotiation room, setting down the files she was sifting through so she could pay a little more attention to the conversation happening just a few feet away from the desk she was seated at, eyes still focused on the page with the bold name of a potential unsub printed at the top, accompanied by a picture of what they looked like. She tried to, at least, make herself seem busy without showing herself being nosey over a conversation that didn’t necessarily include her.

“What do you mean, talk about it?” Spencer questioned, looking at her in disbelief, “talk about what?”

YN hated how passive-aggressive he’d been, over the last two days, towards the two women who used to be considered a few of the only women close to him. He was never like that and, given what had happened, she understood his pain and his upset… she just hated how he wanted to push it, and them, away so he could carry on like an unexpected change hadn’t just sprung into his life.

“I get it, okay? You’re disappointed with the way we handled Emily,” JJ stated, hands on her hips as she stood around the opposite side of the table, watching intently at Spencer as he stood looking at the paper in his hands, eyes darting from the print to his scrawny handwriting on the board beside him, “I get that.”

The tension amongst the team was unbearable, to say the least.

As soon as Emily had entered the roundtable room a week prior to their case in Oklahoma, much to the surprise of everyone occupying the room who had stood waiting for the next plan of action to take down Ian Doyle and find his son, there was a sudden wave of uncertainty that seemed swallow the team whole and didn’t have plans on spitting them back out again anytime soon. No one could pick apart the emotions on one person’s face and state clearly how they were feeling. Confusion, shock, anger, happiness, joy, surprise… there were flecks of each emotion but never one clear facial expression that gave away how someone was truly feeling.

Now they were deep in Oklahoma, on a case and trying to find an unsub who had come to light in the recent murders of two young women prior to their touchdown, with Emily back in her regular place and trying her best to get back to normal as a BAU agent for the FBI. No longer under protection of the higher authority, no longer hiding behind an alias that took her identity away and stripped her of who she once was and she was finally able to go back to the Emily Prentiss whom she had been loved by many before life did a one-eighty flip. Almost as if nothing had changed, like the seven months she spent in witness protection hadn’t ever happened, like her death and her funeral and her burial were a fever dream that seemed to never leave the rest of them alone.

For most of the unit, having her back was something so wonderful and so great, to see her jumping back into a case with a mindset ready for justice and helping out with the mind she was graced with having, to have the same pair of eyes that were used to seeing case after case of young victims and unstable unsubs be considered a fresh pair of eyes now she was back. To work a case with someone you were comfortable with, that was what the most of them loved; the witty banter shared, the anger that bounced off from each sentence, the kind and caring charisma to get the best result of a case.

But for some, it was difficult to adjust to something they had only just overcome.The grief they felt towards the situation of losing a beloved member of the unit, someone so loving and kind, a huge part of their team, it was unbearable and tore them down soon after they presumed they laid her to rest. Going back, visiting her burial site, resting flowers and almost keeping her updated with how everyone had been. They refused to believe she was gone yet denied her when she was found out to be healthy and alive and ready to start back where she left off.

“Well, I have a lot going on, alright?”

A lie, to say the least, but she wasn’t to know that.

“You know what I think it is?”

That caught his attention. And YN’s.

The one question that many profilers, specifically Spencer, hated to be personally asked was that question. They didn’t need to know what others thought when they could have the same thought pattern as each other, they didn’t need someone else telling them what they think they should be thinking and Spencer didn’t need a pity chat from someone who wronged him to find out what he was thinking.

Deep down, YN knew what the problem was and she was handling the situation as best as she could when she was alone with him in their hotel room, but she didn’t think it was as clear cut as people assumed. So how had JJ worked it out? If she was correct in what she thought was wrong with him, that is. He was hurt and he was upset and he was confused; he showed his grief towards missing a friend and he showed how much they meant to him by showing so much emotion yet he just couldn’t come to terms with how none of that was needed anymore. How he didn’t need to build his walls any higher because there wasn’t going to be any more heartache to deal with..

“What?”

“You’re mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital and you weren’t able to detect our deception,” JJ suggested, a little more vigour in her voice as she spoke to him, frustration dripping from her words because she was desperate to get through to him. Absolutely desperate to find some way to resolve an issue that others had forgiven almost instantly, “you’re mad because you couldn’t catch us out on our lies.”

“You think this is about my profiling skills?” He scoffed and shook his head, looking back to the paper in his hands, ”Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions was because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row, crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth,” he continued, disappointment laced through his words. And he so badly wanted to look up and catch the eyes of his girlfriend, the only one he felt truly supported him and his decision to act out, but he knew he needed to fight a battle of his own. Especially one that he caused but especially one that he was actively dragging out.

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?”

It was the first time they made eye contact through the debacle. And, in that moment, JJ could see the pain behind his eyes. The deceit he felt. The grief that was nonsense because they were grieving over no one. The time wasted crying. The time wasted over nothing but false information and lies. She could see he looked vulnerable and naive and she felt guilty for even bringing her back to help on the mission they so direly needed her help with.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“What if I started taking Dilaudid again? Would you have let me?” YN’s eyes shot up at the question he bit towards his colleague; he never considered that, she was sure of it. YN would have known if he did. That time of his life was something she wished he would let go of, something she wished he forgot about so he could carry on with his life, something she wished he never considered again, “I thought about it.”

YN couldn’t only feel her heart ache but she could feel the eyes of Hotch and Morgan resting upon her figure as she tried to occupy herself.

“You didn’t-”

“I did,” he hissed, placing the paper down on the desk below him and striding towards the doors, passed JJ as she pressed an apology upon him, hoping to get him to stay behind so she could hash it out until he fully understood their reasoning why they chose the plan that they did, “I did.”

“Spencer, I’m sorry-”

“It’s too late, alright?” He mumbled.

His legs took him out of the room and down from the floor they were situated on, ignoring the calls from Hotch as he stood with his arms folded in the corner of the room, everyone watching him as he left to go outside so he could catch a breath of fresh air and clear his mind of all the things rattling around inside his head. An alarming look from Morgan and a squeeze to her shoulder had YN up from her seat, case files left behind as she followed her boyfriend out of the station’s vicinity, catching him on a bench just a short walk away from the entrance of the building.

“If you’re coming here to tell me I need to focus on work rather than what’s happening then don’t, Morgan. I’m not-”

“What on earth gives you the impression I’m the big dude with muscles and a charming voice?” YN teased, his upper body twisting so he could catch the sweet stature of his smiling girlfriend, the slightest hint of a smile twitching his lips before he turned back to face forward. Hands clasped together and resting on his legs, thumbs tapping and rubbing at his skin in circles, feeling the presence of his girlfriend behind him, “mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He slipped to the other side of the bench so there was enough room for YN to sit down beside him, her hand reaching over to lace her fingers through his, squeezing his hand tightly as their conjoined palms rested upon his thigh, “I’m hurt and I’m angry, YN. I’m so angry. You saw how much I cried, how much I struggled, how much everyone had to adjust to life without Emily when she ‘died’. Yet they knew, they knew she was alive and they knew she was healthy and okay. They didn’t tell us and that’s- it’s sick,” he grappled, his voice full of passion; there was no way he was angry with them anymore and there was no way he would continue the trait up until someone said something to bring him back down to earth. He was glad she was home - he told her so many times in the last few days about just how great it was to have her home - but he never failed to drift back to the subject of how they dealt with the situation.

“They did it for her protection, Spence. They saved her and, essentially, saved us for truly having to say goodbye to her,” YN admitted, bringing their hands to her mouth so she could press a tacky kiss to the back of his hand, leaving a pink lipstick stain behind in her wake, “she’s safe now because of what they did. Doyle, he’s dead. Anyone who was after, they’re dead. She’s safer now than she was ever.”

“But they watched us grieve at a funeral. We buried something in that ground and were made to believe it was her,” Spencer sighed shakily, “they cried for her, too. They grieved. They said nothing was the same anymore. When they knew the truth all along. I cried with JJ, she helped me when you were working, she was denying it all but, in her head, she knew everything was a lie.”

“Emily left for a reason. To save everyone. She’s back now and you’ve got to remember how everything was before she left us,” YN’s hand gave his a gentle squeeze before she let go, bringing her hands to her lap and waiting for him to look up from the ground so she could see his eyes and so she could see his bright smile, “Spence, she’s not going anywhere.”

He nodded slowly and hesitantly lifted his head, his eyes a little raw around the rims and his lip a little chewed at, but the light in his face was still there. His body scooting closer to YN, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side for a little bit of romance before they were caught and checked on by another agent.

“You won’t leave me like that, will you?” He wondered, “don’t, okay? Don’t leave me.”

“If I’m going anywhere, you’re coming with me, mister,” YN grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to his pink lips, “we do it together or we don’t do it at all.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x yn imagines #spencer reid x reader insert imagines #spencer reid x reader insert fic #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x yn imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader insert fic #criminal minds imagines

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years ago

Text

Observer, not Profiler PT.2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of child porn(for the case, doesn’t go into detail), mentions of corpses, probably a few curse words.

You watch as everyone separates, and you follow The three agents to a room with a round table and a board of pictures with dead women.

“what can you tell us about this man?”

Agent Aaron sets a file down on the table as Spencer gestures for you to sit down.

You open the file, looking at pictures of a man with short hair and a muscly build.

“His name is Maxwell, He’s thirty four. In this picture he had just finished... killing a woman. He probably had to force her away from a crowd because his social skills are lacking, he treats women like toys and men like competition. He’s a severe liar. He won’t just lie when it’s essential he’ll lie about anything for no reason. He’s killed before, but this time was for fun. He was bored.”

Agent Prentiss stares at you with her jaw on the floor, and your gaze drops to the floor.

“Okay that’s awesome. How do you do that?”

You shrug shyly before meeting her eyes.

“I’ve been able to do it ever since I was a little girl. I’m not sure why though. Don’t think I really want to know either...”

“He killed for fun?”

You nod at Aaron’s question, looking back down to avoid his steel cold stare.

“Okay, that got us much further than we could have gotten by ourselves, thank you Y/n.”

The scary agent says, returning to the victim board and analyzing everything.

It’s been hours. You’ve sat in this room for hours and they have nothing else.

To say you’re tired was an extreme understatement. You’ve gone three days without sleep and another three days without eating. You’re body is screaming at you to go to sleep, to just pass out right then and there, but you know you can’t.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

You nod, staring at the pictures of the dead, mutilated women. You didn’t understand how someone could do this.

“I don’t understand how you guys do this job... Staring at dead bodies all the time... You guys gotta have some sort of super power to be able to stomach this...”

Emily stifles a laugh before setting a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently before patting it twice.

“You get over it eventually, but it always haunts you.”

You let out a quiet yawn before closing your eyes and turning away from the board, the dead body sticking on your eyelids.

“Hey, I’m going out to get food, what do you all want?”

JJ says, standing in the doorway as Spencer, Aaron and Emily request their food.

“What do you want Y/n?”

You look up shocked, not expecting the offer of food.

“Umm... I’ll uh... Anything is fine I guess... Thank you.”

She smiles and nods before walking out. You sit down on a chair, your feet screaming hallelujah at the feeling of finally resting.

Spencer sits down next to you, handing you a bottle of water which you accept gratefully.

“You need to sleep, how long has it been since you last slept?”

You let out a chuckle, rubbing your sore eyes.

“I don’t know...Maybe, two, three days?”

Aaron- Hotch, turns to you with furrowed brows and mock concern.

“You need to rest. Reid, set up a cot for her in an empty office.”

You shake your head with lidded eyes.

“No no, I’m fine I’m-”

You’re cut off by your own yawn. A faint blush creeps up on your cheeks while you rest your head on the table.

“M’ fine.”

The world slowly fades out as they call out your name again, but you’re already out cold.

When you wake up, you’re in a small sleeping bag on the floor, a pillow comforting your head. You’re up in a bolt, looking around warily before remembering what had happened withing the last twenty four hours.

Oh yeah... The FBI is using me..

You walk to the door with a sigh, looking around at the somewhat empty police station, a few officers working the stations, but it’s practically empty.

A blonde woman in colorful clothes walks by, pausing when she sees you.

“You, with me, now.”

She continues speed-walking on after that, and you run after her, following right on her heels.

“The team went out on a wild goose chase after the unsub, I need you and your magic hands to help me get into this guy’s computer, it’s blocked like nothing I’ve seen before, together we should be able to get in.”

You cringe at the thought of hacking, you haven't since the incident, but this woman is in the FBI and you’re pretty sure it’s unwise to disobey her.

“Yes ma’am.”

She smirks and turns to you, but doesn’t say anything as she leads you into a room with five computers.

“Alright, we have to be quick. This guy is gonna kill again in ten minutes. I have the team on the line, anything you find, anything at all, tell them.”

You nod and sit at one of the two wheely chairs, looking at the database of the killers computer.

“A hash tree data structure, this dude likes things in groups. He has a NoSQL object oriented database and heavy protection on everything, he’s spent a lot of time protecting his files. This isn’t gonna be easy and I’m really rusty.”

You begin typing in every word combo you can think of, typing as fast as possible.

“Just do the best you can.”

Hotchner says over the speaker, you listen, continuing with any word combo you can think of when remembering his face.

Six minutes pass and you and Penelope still have nothing.

“Can I see another picture of him?”

She tosses a file to you, which you yank open, looking at the photo’s of him.

“Try anything star wars related, specifically characters, maybe a villain of the series.”

You tell her before tossing the folder aside and using your own advice.

Finally, you hear that satisfying noise of success from Penelope’s computer.

“We’re in.”

She enter’s the password into the computer you’re manning, which leads you to a killer’s screen.

A mutilated woman is the background, and you flinch away.

“Oh god...”

You click onto google, but it’s no better, every tab is war and chaos and horrible things. Child porn seems to be popular with him.

“Go through his stuff, look for anywhere he might be.”

You ignore all of the destruction on his desk top, clicking through everything before discovering a location.

“Got it! Go to the daycare at the Starrmole mall!”

“Copy that, all units to the Starrmole mall.”

You close the computer tabs, looking away and turning to Penelope.

“We did it my wonder girl!”

You smile as she holds her hand out for a high five, and you happily smack her hand before sitting back.

“Y’know, you would be really helpful around the office, specifically our offices?”

You look at her, shocked. Was she really recommending that you join the FBI? You couldn’t even say the word without spiraling into a tic attack.

“W-what? You... You want me to... To...”

“I think you would be great at it. You could help me out here, You don’t have to go on the field, you and I could do some serious damage together. The job pays fairly well too!”

At seeing your conflicted face, she sighs before setting a hand on your shoulder.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nod with furrowed brows before the two of you walk out, waiting for the rest of the station to arrive.

It could be a smart Idea, working for the government instead of against it. Plus, you could do what you love again without fear of being locked up, but then again, you would have to get over looking at dead bodies everyday, you had to be ready to see them at any time.

Instead of thinking about it any longer, you direct your focus to something, or someone, else.

How the hell am I not able to read him?

You think to yourself when the image of the young Doctor fills your brain. You didn’t understand how he managed to avoid your reading, but it made you incredibly curious.

“So, what can you tell me about Dr. Reid?”

You ask Penelope with a slight blush on your cheeks. She looks at you, eyes wide and Jaw on the floor.

“Do you like him?”

You shake your head no, you had just met him! Yeah sure, maybe he was cute, but you didn’t like him like that!

“No way! Not like that! I was just confused at why I couldn’t read him! I don’t like him like that!”

“Like who like what?”

You jump in the air at the new voice, the tall Reid apologizing before sitting down across you and Penelope.

“No one! Like no one like nothing!”

You say rather aggressively, making Reid raise his hands in faux surrender, a smile plastered on his face as he laughs.

“Sorry I asked. So are you thinking of joining the Bureau?”

Your head tilts in confusion as you look at him, how the hell did he know that? As if he could hear your thoughts, he gives an answer.

“Garcia forgot to hang up, so we heard the conversation. Well I heard, everyone else shut their devices off, but I was pretty far away so I just turned around and came back.”

You and Penelope nod, but you look away.

“I’m not sure... I just... I spent my entire life running, but you guys found me, and now I’m supposed to join the forces of good and fight crime? I’m just having a difficult time deciding.”

They look at you with an understanding look, they know you’re having a difficult time with all of this, suddenly being pushed to let down all of your walls now. They knew you hated being center of attention.

Damn profilers...

You almost laugh at your thoughts, but you can’t, because the rest of the profilers and the Police just walked in with a serial killer.

“Well, you might want to choose quickly. We leave first thing in the morning. If you want to join the Bureau, I can talk to Hotch about bringing you with us on the jet, if not, we’ll arrange another jet to take you to any city you want, and you can start living there.”

Your mouth hangs open, it was already ten p.m, and you only had until morning to figure this out? Fucking perfect.

“I’ll go talk to Hotch about it. Spencer, give the girl some space to think, alright?”

The two nod at each other before walking off, Garcia going to inform Hotch and Spencer going to talk to the killer.

“This is a fucking mess.”

You’ve spent the entire night thinking your options over, but you were still no closer to a choice than you were four hours ago.

The night is silent. The entire office is asleep and you’re sipping on a cup of coffee, watching the stars as your debate marches on in your brain.

“Hey.”

It’s a deep voice, Derek, he sits in a chair next to you, plopping an arm on the back of your chair.

“Can’t sleep huh?”

You chuckle.

“That’s an oversimplification. I’m just trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. If I join you, there are so many good things that’ll come out of it, but if I don’t-”

“You aren’t joining the FBI because you’re scared. You think you’re betraying yourself. I’ll tell you right now you aren’t betraying anyone. This is a chance to help yourself. To try something new. It’s a great job believe it or not, and I think you’ll fit right in with the team. Reid, Garcia, Emily, and I already think you’re great, but if you really don’t want to, nobodies making you okay?”

You nod, tears in your eyes as Derek brings you to a realization. You never even thought of it that way, but it made complete sense. Of course you held back because you didn’t want to betray yourself, you always did everything for your past self.

“Thank you Derek...”

Reid already thinks you’re great.

A smile crawls onto your face at the friendships that could be made. Just imagining working late nights with Dr. Reid made you happy.

“Does... Does Dr. Reid really think I’m great?”

He laughs before standing up and walking away.

That didn’t answer my question...

You think to yourself before returning your gaze to the sky. It was so bright, the stars were so easily seen at night. It was gorgeous, the way that the night sky was illuminated with constellations.

The rest of the night is quiet, you let yourself forget about the debate of the FBI job and you let yourself relax, listening to the hum of quiet jazz playing on the speakers.

When the rest of the police department wakes up, the FBI profilers included, they’re saying goodbye to the team and writing in their files.

The team walks over to where you sit, looking at the sky as you sip on coffee.

“Well, have you made a decision?”

Hotch asks, you look down and spin around to face them, glancing at their shoes nervously before speaking.

“Well, I have decided... And my decision is that...”

A/N: I gotta be honest, I didn't expect that many people to enjoy this story! Just so ya’ll know, Requests are open! If you would like to request a fic for Reid, hotch, morgan, emily, dad!rossi (No romance for rossi, sorry) or any marvel character, just go ahead and ask! Keep me busy guys!

Taglist:

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @spencerreidisbootiful @thatsonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @holybatflapexpert @aberrant-annie @wasabiwitteks

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write-orflight · 4 years ago

Text

Like Real People do. Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Chapter 1

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Death, talk about death, Mentions of past sexual assault and kidnapping

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N This is a little angsty chapter. lots of major plot details as well as mentions of assault. If that is Triggering to you i recommend skipping the first half. Also expect an update every week instead of this soon only posting this because I got inspired and finished early. much love, Cia

Chapter 2:About that night

“Hey dad, mom.” You said, sitting down on the cool grass, you began to pick at the blades like you did as a child as you spoke. “I know I haven’t visited in a while. In my defense, I was in school across the country, but it's not like I haven't been thinking of you guys.” You leaned back the cool marble chilling your back as well. You could practically hear your mother’s voice in your ear.

“Ladies don’t slouch, Y/N” She’d always say, your dad would always come to your defense, “Sit however you want, Angel.” He’d say. You smiled, sadly. You missed your parents in different ways but you still missed them regardless.

“Umm, so I suppose I should tell you guys what’s new with me.” You say. “I finished my masters, 2 actually and I uh… finished academy. I’m a profiler now at Quantico.” you winced slightly, you knew your mom would hate it, she hated when your dad was one. You couldn’t count the amount of times you hid in your room watching TV to drown out what they thought was hushed arguments. Your mom didn’t like that he wasn’t home a lot, sure but the main argument was always that she thought it was dangerous, and that he was recklessly putting their lives at risk.

If there’s one thing your mother always was, it was right.

“I know you guys probably wouldn’t have wanted this for me. I know mom wanted me to be a dancer despite my inability to dance.” you laughed, looking back fondly at the times you would just, for lack of a better word, flail around your childhood dance classes. “And I know dad never wanted me to know about that side of his job. But I did, and now I’m doing it and I’m happy because it’s the one place I finally feel like I fit.” You sigh. “And I’m good at it. So I feel like you guys would be proud.” You began to rattle off the details of your most recent case quietly to your dad. And how Spencer took a risk that had thankfully paid off but was terrifying in the meantime.

“Spencer is…” You paused, trying to think of the right words to describe Dr. Spencer Reid. “... A guy. Wait, not a guy, like that. He’s a coworker, who’s a guy.” you say, fumbling and probably flushing if you could see your face. Why were you blushing? No one was here, no one alive at least. You’d known Spencer for a little over a month now and the more you spoke, the more your crush on him developed. “He’s incredibly smart, like genius-level smart, and he’s nice. Dad, you would’ve liked him.” you felt tears coming up, as they typically did this day of the year. You stood up, placing the flowers you had purchased the day before. “I actually managed to find some good blue hydrangeas this year for you, mom.” You smiled, remembering the amount your mother would complain about how other people took care of their flowers in the neighborhood you grew up in specifically your neighbor’s blue hydrangea bush. You often found her in a rage that they were ‘practically butchering her favorite flower’ You laid the flowers down regarding your parents grave one more time.

Alice and Noah Y/L/N

Beloved Parents and Agents.

You stopped for hot chocolate on your way home, it always cheered you up in these winter months. Not that anything could cheer you up today but it couldn’t hurt. You made your way back to your apartment, picking up your textbook and making notes. When the words began to swim you laid down for a nap.

You hadn’t had the dream for a while but it was never really gone. The putrid smell of the basement you were kept in, the drip of the leaky ceiling, the small sealed shut window that was your only indication that days have passed. His hands, filthy dirty hands. Always covered in soot, fingernails always dirty. He’d always come in at night, the light from the hallway being the only amount of light you’d get. Every night, he’d grab your face roughly, making you meet him in his dead eyes, and ask

“Are you going to be good for me tonight, Beloved.”

You fought him the first couple of nights, but after a while you just let him take it. His hands always rough, pinning you, the knife pressing deep making shallow cuts in your side, the ringing of the phone

The ringing of the phone…?

You wake up startled, your phone is ringing. You look at the caller ID, it was Garcia.

“Hey Garcie.” You say, sleepily, calling her by the nickname you gave her a month into knowing her. “Is there a case?” You ask.

“Nope, sugarplum. I’m calling to ask if you wanted to come out and have a girls night. I was thinking maybe calling Prentiss and JJ, we go get drinks, have fun…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think so, Garcia, I might just sit and watch tv tonight.” You say, being in large crowds, especially today, didn’t sound fun.

“I know what today is, Y/N” she says, quietly. “So even if you don’t want to go out that’s fine, I’ll bring food, wine, and we can totally just sit and watch tv. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

She was right, you knew you shouldn’t be alone. You sigh. “Only if you bring thai food and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Deal!” she says excitedly before hanging up.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Garcia proceeded to spend most of the day watching Doctor who and laughing around Thai food. You’re halfway through the 10’s second season when Garcia gets a call.

“What’s up, buttercup?” She says. You can’t make out the other person on the line. “I am sitting with Y/N in her apartment and we’re watching Doctor Who, can you believe she stopped watching after Nine?”

“I got busy!” You said around your mouth full of food.

“Hold on, I’ll ask.” Penelope says. “It’s Spencer, he wants to know if it’s ok he comes to watch with us. I’ll tell him no…” She trails off.

“No, it's fine.” You say, nodding. “Tell him he can come.”

“Spence, she said it’s fine. But I’d hurry up before she inhales all the Thai food.”

“Fuck you!” you exclaim, laughing.

You get up and head to your bathroom. You looked like you had been crying for sure. So you put some concealer under your eyes and blush on your cheeks. You look at yourself again and decide why not finish? And put eyeliner and lipgloss on. You change pajamas as well opting for shorts and a tank in case you get warm.

You come back and Garcia is full on smirking at you.

“What?” you ask?

“Nothing…” She said, smirk now turned to a full grin.

You pour more wine into your glass, feeling Garcia’s gaze still on you. You look over and you were right. She was looking at you, still smiling.

“Alright out with it, Garcie.”

“You like him.” She says.

“Pardon?” You question hoping that if you act like you didn’t know what she was talking about she’d let it go. Obviously that was not the case.

“Spencer.” She says, nonchalantly. “You like him.”

You pick up your glass. Now seemed like the best time to drink. “No, I don’t”

Garcia scoffed. “I may not be a profiler, but I’m not an idiot.” She laughed. “I tell you Spencer’s coming over suddenly you have on full makeup.”

“I just didn’t want to look like I was crying.” You pointed out.

“Uh-huh, and the changing into the super sexy pajama set was also so you didn’t look like you were crying?”

You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “It’s not sexy, it’s pajamas.” you say around your food.

“If you say so, I think it’s cute though.” Penelope says. “You know, he asked me if you were dating anyone the other day.”

“Really?” You said, a little too excitedly.

“No!” She laughs. “But nice acting skills, you almost had me fooled that you didn’t like him.”

You sit back in your seat pouting. “That’s not a nice trick to play.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re only upset you've been had.” As if he knew you were talking about him, a knock came to the door. You both turned to look at the door neither moving to get it. “Are you going to get the door or do you want to change again.” She jokes.

“Shut up.” you mumble before opening the door. Spencer regards you with a tiny smile clutching his messenger bag. “Hey, Spencer.” You smiled moving to the side, letting him in. Garcia greets him too, patting the seat next to her in the middle of the couch. He sits his bag down before joining her. You return to your seat at the end immediately pulling your legs under you turning your attention to the TV. You feel eyes on you so you turn only to lock eyes with Spencer. He flushes immediately before awkwardly clearing his throat and turning toward the screen. Weird… you think.

The three of you watch a couple more episodes, at some point the Thai food is put away and replaced with popcorn. You’re laughing so much you almost forget what today is.

Almost.

Eventually, Garcia stands. “Well lovelies, I have an early day tomorrow. So I’m going to head out.”

Spencer moves to stand too. “Guess I’ll head out too.”

“No!” Garcia all but shouts. “Don’t stop on my account. You guys seem like you’re having fun.” She says. If you weren’t glaring at her before it was full on daggers now she was obviously trying to set you up.

“If I’m not putting you out, Y/N.”

“Never Spencer, I like hanging out with you.” You add. God, I sound lame. You think. But you instantly lose that thought when a bright smile crosses his lips. You can’t help but look and smile back. A throat being cleared brings you both back.

“I’m going to go.” Garcia says, smiling at you both. She hoped you guys figured it out you could be good for each other. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Bye Garcie! Thanks for today.” You call out to her, watching to make sure she got to her car safe. You turn back to Spencer. “Next Episode?” You ask, he nods furiously.

You’re about halfway through the second episode you’ve watched with just Spencer and you can’t help but be hyper aware of your body right now. Spencer was still so close, seated in the middle of your couch instead of the end where Garcia had been. You took in his relaxed frame, the furrow that was normally in his brow was almost entirely gone, his sharp jaw finally slack. You find yourself looking at his mouth for a while, he had such a pretty mouth, soft pink lips that you couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like, what they tasted like--

That thought was dashed short when you saw his eyes back on you. You flush looking into his eyes.

“You didn’t come to work today.” He says.

“I did not.”

“Hotch said it was a personal day.”

“It was.” You sighed. You knew someone would eventually ask about it, you worked with profilers, you're sure most of them deduced why you took a personal day even if they didn’t know the whole truth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. He’s offering you an out, you decide not to take it.

“It’s been 11 years since my parents died today.” You say. “You’d think it’d get easier by now but it really really doesn’t.” You sigh.

Suddenly you felt arms around you. Spencer was hugging you tightly and that was enough to break the dam you thought you had closed before. You began clutching on to him sobbing giant messy cries into his shoulder. He rubs your back in smooth circles whispering it’s ok until he notices you calm. He still didn’t release his hold in you so now you were laying in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. ”You didn’t have to do this.” you say “I know you’re a germaphobe.”

“Yea to strangers, Y/N.” He points out. “Not to you, you’re my friend. I’m always going to try to protect you.” He says, smoothing your hair from your face. The action itself was so fond it hurt you. And while the friend comment stung a little you couldn’t bring yourself to care because right now even if it was just for the night you were in Spencer Reid’s arms. And you felt safe.

“Can we finish Doctor Who now?” You inquire, not moving from your spot, practically burying yourself into Spencer’s shoulder.

“Of course.” He says pressing play. You stay like that, pressed tightly together until David Tennant’s voice and Spencer body warmth lure you into slumber.

Taglist: @haylaansmi @yoruebeautiful @kianagilder-blog @l0ve-0f-my-life @bihoeofmanyfandoms

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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angelswithcigarettes · 4 years ago

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[If you know me - you don’t]

“Let me be your first(s)”

Summary: The many "firsts" Spencer shares with Morgan.

Warnings: Sexual Content

Relevant Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drinking

Pairing: Derek Morgan/ Spencer Reid

Word Count: 5538

Chapters: 4/4

First Chapter:

"Happy Birthday baby boy." Morgan places a coffee cup on Spencer's desk, a "23" scribbled on with a marker.

"How did you-"

"C'mon you really think I would forget your first birthday with us?"

"Well I never-"

"Garcia has every birthday on the team marked in her computer one day prior it will send out a notification and she told me."

"Oh." Embarrassed Spencer looks down.

"Hey none of that, no hiding your beautiful face today." With two fingers under his chin he makes him look into his eyes. "We are going to have some fun tonight." Confused Spencer avoids Morgan's eyes. He still hasn't gotten used to him always flirting and touching people and he had a conversation with JJ about it who said it's just who he is and that he would stop if Spencer would ask him to.

"What do you mean?"

"You ever been to a strip club?"

"Wha-No!" His voice cracks slightly in astonishment over the question. "No."

"Today will be a lucky day."

"I don't-"

"Nah, the night is on me just the two of us having a little fun with some ladies."

"I appreciate the gesture but that is really not my thing-"

"You are not getting out of this." He gave in in frustration over the day when he realizes that no one else had remember his birthday and if Morgan really had thought this was a good present he also didn't want to seem ungrateful. "That's what you are wearing?" He asks sceptical looking down at Spencer.

"I mean yeah-"

"No. No. Go change and don't dare to come out with a tie again." When he did he was wearing a red yellow striped T-shirt under a black vest tugged into a black Jean's and that is probably the best it will get Morgan thought. "You ready?"

"It's not like I have never seen stripper before you know? I am from Vegas I just never went into a strip club with the purpose of watching half nacked women."

"We can go to a male one if that's what you prefer." Morgan jokes having one arm around Spencer's neck.

"No-no the women one is fine."

"Alright." The first humiliation starts at the entrance when the bouncer asks Morgan why he thinks it's a good idea to drag his fourteen year old cousin with him into a strip club. "Well Dr. Spencer Reid here is going to celebrate his birthday." He says while Spencer shyly holds up his ID.

"Right" Not in the mood to argue with them he let's them through and they are met with the loud music and crowd of a Friday night.

"Let's get you something to drink."

"I don't drink."

"You do tonight pretty boy." They stand at the bar for a moment and Morgan can see the hesitation before Spencer drinks so he stops him. "You don't have to drink. I am sorry."

"No I just- I never drank alcohol before. I don't know what- you know what it is like."

"Do you want to try it tonight?"

"I am not sure."

"I will look out for you nothing will happen. I won't drink enough that I can't okay?"

"Yeah" Only now Spencer dares to take a sip and then screws his face making Morgan laugh and take the glass out of his hands.

"We will try something sweet first." After another shot and half a cocktail that seemed to have enough sugar in it to satisfy Reid they go over to a table and Spencer is uncomfortable playing with the money in his pocket that Morgan put in there.

He had seen all these men do it, just taking the bill and paying the stripper with it and it looks so easy on them but Spencer can't bring himself to do it and instead looks to the ground, his feet shoving over the ground until a blue Highheels came into his sight and he looked up to a women placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You look like a sweet boy,what's your name?"

"Spencer" Her hand grabs his chin and he takes his hands out of his pockets placing them on his legs. The cold of her rings meets his neck as her other hand touches him and he can feel a cold shower running down his back. "I am sorry. I don't- They are nine female stripper for every one Male stripper. I don't know why I said that." She chuckles ones and tugs a strain behind his ear and then she let's her hand guide over his chest and moves back again turning around ones and winking at Morgan and the moment she had stopped touching him Spencer felt wrong in this place again and it didn't take long to Morgan to realise that something is wrong with him.

"Thank you beautiful." He hands her a decent amount of money and then squads down in front of Spencer his hands grabbing Spencer's knees. "Look at me. Eyes on me." Spencer did thankful to find something he can look at without feeling bad or like he is staring. "What do you say we change to a normal bar?"

"Please I don't like it here."

"Alright come on pretty boy."

Spencer got suspicious when Morgan gave an address to the taxi driver that is a little bit out of the city when they could have just went into a bar across the street but chose to stay quiet until he can feel the tears in his eyes, caused by unsettling feeling in his stomach and the fear of were they are going.

He hardly knows Morgan, they only have spend four months on cases together and he didn't expect to be drinking and now Morgan wants to take him to a bar, he never went to a bar before to drink, only with the whole team and he had left with Gideon shortly after drinking one glass of Sprite.

Morgan doesn't notice him spiraling, he is to focused on his phone were he is in contact with JJ who is over at Hotch's house, waiting for them to arrive. Spencer had off handedly mention to her that he didn't have a real birthday party since he was seven.

The team doesn't know it was because his father would want to integrate his son into the neighborhood and would throw him those parties and he had loved it but when he left his mom didn't think much about this society standard and left it with a special breakfast and a new book. If she was healthy enough.

He only notices when they are standing infront of Hotch's house and he pays the driver and walks around the house but realizes Reid doesn't follow him.

And on a second thought he knows why,the house that already is held in dark colours doesn't have one light shining out the windows and he had told Spencer they would go to a bar. Not this. With a sympathetic smile he opens his door. "Spencer?"

"This isn't a bar."

"No" He realizes how afraid Spencer must be when he catches him, for a short second, flinching with his hand trying to get his gun and then remembers he isn't carrying it. "I am sorry, it's a surprise we have with the team. We are at Hotch's" Spencer hesitates, having himself so worked up in the worry that he isn't sure that he isn't lying. "That's his car, and that's JJ's and if you look through the windshield you will see Gideon's car."

Ashamed Spencer gets out but Morgan doesn't judge him and instead lifts his head by his chin taking his palm and wiping the tears away. "These have to go and you need your acting skills to at least look a little bit surprised."

"I am sorry."

"No,don't be. I rather live with the knowledge that you are careful when it comes to stuff like this than having you walk in some dark house with some strange."

"You are not a stranger." Morgan huffs ones and then let's Spencer calm down before walking in front of him into the house, before the lights turn on and the team is standing there,a cake and presents on the table, garlands and balloons hanging from the ceiling.

A little bit overwhelming Spencer plays with his watch and then smiles when they finished the song and they take notice of his troubles, and take their voices down a little bit, being less rushing and taking their time in between congratulating him.

It has it's perk working with profilers.

Shortly the alcohol gets out and they start drinking and Gideon eyes Spencer questioning but Morgan steps in, having his hands on Spencer's shoulder and assuring him that he will keep his promise and look out for him.

Spencer doesn't get drunk maybe strongly typsi and Morgan walks him up to his apartment. "How do you feel?"

"Dizzy,its not what I thought it would be."

"You won't have to do it again if you don't like." Morgan takes the couch that night after Spencer falls asleep, not appreciating how dizzy he feels ones he tries closing his eyes. If he threw up in the middle of the night,Morgan wouldn't tell the others.

More on Ao3:

#spencer reid #derek morgan #criminal minds #ao3 author #moreid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid smut #smut #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

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Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve

Title: Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~10K

A/N: Flashback Chapter set between Chapter 14: Superheroes and Chapter 15: Foyet.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The bar was thrumming with activity and the energy that accompanies people who've all had a long, hard day at work and would like to do nothing besides forget. The team had gotten back from a case in the evening, and with only Friday separating them and the weekend, had all decided to head out for a night of drinking.

You look around, your hands wrapped around a glass of scotch - Derek, Penelope, and Emily were dancing in the makeshift dancing area, JJ was playing darts with some guys, Spencer was cheating people out of their money at a game of pool, and Rossi had long ago excused himself to go sit by some woman at the bar. You'd be dancing too, but the unsub had gotten the jump on you during the takedown and you'd been nursing a sprained ankle ever since. Hotch had stayed with you - whether it was simply to keep you company or because none of the other activities appealed to him, you're unsure. Likely the former - he was pretty good at darts too.

He's sitting across from you in the booth, a glass of scotch in his hand as well. He doesn't make a face when he drinks it, which you have to admire - it was such a man thing. You only drank liquor to get drunk and had been surprised with the drink by Rossi, who had insisted that you needed to drink something stronger than a glass of wine after the day you'd had. You take another hesitant sip from your glass, trying hard not to give away how little you like it. He could've ordered you a mixed drink - something sweet so you didn't taste just pure alcohol.

"What've you got going on this weekend?" you ask Hotch. The case had been miserable all around and you wanted to talk about anything but that.

He looks up at you, the faint hint of a smile on his face. "Haley and I worked it out so that I can have Jack the entire weekend. I'll have to think of something to keep him occupied."

You knew that Hotch would be content to do nothing as long as it was with Jack, but he liked to make the most of their time together and did his best to plan things out that Jack would like. "I saw a poster that said the Air and Space Museum has some special exhibit on this month. It looked interesting." You knew Jack would enjoy that - his latest toy was a rocketship that went everywhere with him.

"Saturday?" he asks, eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Make it 11, and you've got a deal," you tell him, with a small smile. "I am no longer entertaining plans at 9am."

He lets out a slight huff. "If you just went to bed at a normal hour it wouldn't be that hard to wake up in the morning."

This was an old argument with the two of you. Hotch insisted on always being the first in line to any ticketed event. He hated waiting - he'd start to fidget and get annoyed and keep leaving the line to walk to the front and see what was taking so long.

"Take it or leave it." You were sticking your ground. He could use the lie in too, he'd just never admit it.

"We'll pick you up," he says, bringing his glass to his mouth and taking another sip, eyes meeting yours from above the rim.

It was interesting how you and Hotch had settled into this routine of constantly doing things with Jack. You reckon he likes having another adult around when he's out with Jack - it definitely made things easier to keep a little kid entertained. You'd once mentioned to Emily that you were having dinner with him and Jack and she'd looked at you a little oddly, saying that she'd been on the team forever and had never once had dinner with her boss and his kid. You'd responded by telling her that she probably wouldn't enjoy it all too much - Emily liked kids just fine, but her and Hotch tend to get on one another's nerves a bit after a while. They were far too different even if they did work well together. Hotch would try and fail at limiting her to two glasses of wine with dinner and she'd annoy him by just putting the dishes straight into the dishwasher without caring how she did it.

"Someone sent this over for you." You turn to see the waitress place a drink at your table, and indicate towards a man in a wrinkled suit, seated at the bar, who waves at you.

You can feel your face turn into a grimace as the waitress looks at you expectantly. You avoid looking at Hotch across the way. You didn't need to see his reaction. "Would you mind telling him thanks, but, no thanks for me?" you ask her apologetically.

She nods understandingly, taking the drink back and walking towards the bar.

You turn to look at Hotch, completely exasperated. It was nice. It was a nice gesture - sending a girl a drink. Friendly. Yet, you're just a little at your wit's end lately when it comes to men. It all just feels superficial.

Hotch can read you pretty well by now, so he asks if you're alright.

You look at his concerned face. You know why - usually you don't mind this sort of thing. Hell, you pretty much encourage it with the way you act, flirting with nearly everyone simply because you can. It's like a sport to you.

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" you ask him, eyes cast down towards your drink, following patterns in the wood of the table.

"Friend," he says, adjusting to lean in a bit more towards you.

Sighing, you shift a bit, dropping your leg from where you'd been keeping it elevated next to him. "Lately, I just feel like I can't get guys to see me. Like every guy I meet, they either want to date me or kill me," you tell him, referring to your job. "But beyond that, it's like I don't even matter."

Hotch nods understandingly at your frustration, his face a grimace at your explanation. He's unable to deny that that is very much the case when it comes to women quite often - especially in your line of work. You're all far too aware of the horrors of dating, being called in on numerous cases on dating gone wrong. "Aren't you still seeing that guy - Kensington?" he asks with a slight uptick of his jaw.

"Well, if you can call seeing someone six times over the course of about an equal number of months, then yes I suppose so," you scoff lightly. "Twice we got called in on cases halfway, once he got interrupted by a work emergency, and then most recently I accompanied him to an event at which most of the other dates were the kind that demand a retainer in exchange for services rendered," you say, alluding to the super model types you'd kept company at Cedric's business event a couple of weeks back. You could fit into his world quite easily, but you didn't want to. You'd left that behind for a reason.

Hotch chuckles slightly at that, amused at your tone and manner in which you referred to women who were essentially either escorts or sugar babies. You didn't really fit that mold - of that he was quite certain. For one, you definitely didn't need the money.

"Don't get me wrong, I actually do like him. We get one another and our background and upbringing is similar enough. He makes me laugh. However our schedules - both of ours - are highly unconducive to dating and in his line of business he needs a girlfriend who can leave everything at the drop of a hat to stand by his side."

"So unless you leave your job or he leaves his, it won't work out," Hotch finishes your thought for you, a resigned expression on his face in commiseration.

"Exactly. Which is a shame because he's actually one of the good ones. He's rich but not pompous, educated and intelligent without being condescending about it, and actually shows genuine interest in me and my job. Believe it or not, as basic as those things might seem, they are actually difficult to find all in one man."

He hums. "I can imagine," he says, taking another sip of his drink, a slightly amused expression on his face. You rarely talked to him about your dating life so he was actually very interested in this insight. He wonders briefly if there's any significance to you having listed the fact that Kensington was wealthy before any of his other qualities. From what he knows of you, he doubts you'd truly care if your partner had money or not. More than likely it merely helped establish a commonality, nothing more. However, from what he does know of the men you've dated recently, they all appear to be quite well off nonetheless.

"Anyways, all that is to say that I'm not exactly looking to entertain complete strangers in bars at the moment. I don't trust my luck."

"Probably for the best, anyways," Hotch comments, appraising the crowd at the bar. There really didn't appear to be anyone worth talking to - especially none of your caliber, per his judgement.

"What about you? How's the post divorce dating scene?" you question, feeling a little bolder than you usually might, since the two of you are already discussing the matter. Turnabout was fair play.

He's a little surprised at your forwardness. You tend to do your best to not meddle in his personal business, despite the amount of time you two spend together. He believes it's your way of maintaining some modicum of professionalism to your outings. Your conversations tend to revolve around cases, your classes from college, an article in the newspaper, or the ever present game the two of you like to play of profiling complete strangers walking by. He says its to hone your skills, but really he just enjoys how invested you get - how competitive and passionate, color rising in your cheeks as you defend your assessment, annoyance tinging your tone as you disagree with him, admiration when he notes something you hadn't, and pride when he praises your observations, your cheeks flushed a prettier pink and your eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"I wouldn't know," he discloses, a slight flush in his cheeks. He hadn't dated at all since the divorce. He hadn't had the time and he hadn't really had interest in anyone. Not when you exist, so overtly present in his day to day life. He knows he's - in some capacity - using the outings with you and Jack as the closest thing he's got to dating again. Not to say that it was that - dating. However the fact that his weekends were typically filled by you and his son made it so he wasn't exactly left wanting.

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. Their divorce had been a while back now - you knew for a fact that Haley was dating, having ran into her with some man when you'd offered to drop Jack off for Hotch when you all got called in on a case last minute. You hadn't mentioned it to him, but you're sure he knew as well. "You're joking. Really? No one?"

"You might recall, I got divorced because I didn't have the time for my existing relationship. A new one requires quite a bit more attention than that," he says dryly, self deprecation dripping from every word.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at him as you stir your drink with the toothpick it came with, spearing the cherry inside and popping it into your mouth.

"You should just go for it next time we're in some whatever town. Every female detective we've encountered constantly gets all moony eyed around you," you inform him matter-of-factly. They're all so obvious too, eyes always drawn to his ring finger in search of a wedding band, and upon finding it empty, hanging onto his every word. Flicking their hair and fluttering their lashes at him, keen on proving themselves to be competent by sticking their noses into the profile.

"That's hardly true," he contradicts, shaking his head, the color in his cheeks having creeped down his neck.

You chuckle at that. "Maybe you're not as good of a profiler as you think you are."

He glares at you, however the lightheartedness remains in his eyes so you know you're in the clear for your jab.

"Anyways, all I'm saying is, whenever you decide to get back on that proverbial horse, I think you won't find a shortage of options," you tell him kindly. After all, Hotch worked harder than any of you. He deserved to find happiness again.

He rolls his eyes at your statement ever so slightly. His right hand was a much less complicated and demanding lover for the time being - he was making do just fine.

"So, on to the next for you then?" he asks, attempting to divert attention back to you and your existent dating life rather than him and his non-existent one.

You shake your head, a humorless smile appearing on your face as you start to feel just slightly light headed from the alcohol. Maybe accepting random pain killers from Emily hadn't been quite the right move. "Nah," you mumble into your drink. "Cedric can stay, if only because I don't have an actual good reason to end it yet. Besides him, the other two on the back burner are quickly losing what little appeal they held to begin with. I might actually take a break."

Hotch smiles as if he doesn't quite believe you're capable of actually taking a break. Your reputation for never being without a date far preceded you.

Truth be told, at first it was simply easier to always be dating someone in the aftermath of the John wreckage. If you could constantly keep yourself occupied and distracted in that area, while you actually gave turning straight a fair shot, then maybe you'd make it through instead of going crawling back to his bed. Maybe you'd stop seeing his broken face when you told him you couldn't be with him. Maybe the memory of leaving him standing alone in front of that tattoo parlor in the Village wouldn't cause your heart to ache and rebel against your own actions. Maybe. Just maybe.

Now, the pain of Julian's death and the subsequent fallout with your family was merely hurtful when you chose to think of it or were reminded of it inadvertently It was no longer ever present. That seemed like progress. Like somehow despite everything - the pain and torture you'd inflicted upon both you and John had somehow been worth it if it meant you could go to sleep without thinking of Julian. Wake up without your father's face looming ever present in your mind.

You and Hotch look up when you see the rest of the team approaching the table one by one as the night drew to a close. It was last call and about time to head home so you could all have a hope of making an appearance at the office the next day.

"You want a ride home?" Hotch asks you, noticing your slight struggle to get out of the booth.

"It's totally out of your way," you protest, yanking your coat on and fishing for your keys in your pocket.

"I insist, come on. You can't drive properly with that sprain right now. He walks towards you and placing his hand at your lower back, guides you out of the bar behind the rest of the team. "Your car should be fine and we can grab it in the morning."

You know he's right, so you allow yourself to lean against him ever so much more, letting him help you out to his car. Hotch helps you in and closes the door behind you, before walking around to the driver's side. You take control of the music, plugging in your phone, intent on introducing him to more modern music. The two of you made it through seven Top 50 songs on the drive to your place, Hotch complaining throughout and not finding anything redeemable in any of the songs you'd chosen.

Aaron looked over at you as he neared your house, your head moving along to the music and your fingers dancing across your thighs to the tune, a large grin plastered on your voice as you tried to convince him that this this one he surely had to enjoy. He actually didn't mind most of the music you picked out to introduce him to - you didn't just pick anything, you always did your best to pick something you thought he'd truly enjoy. However, he worried that if he started to openly like any of them, you might stop trying so hard.

He pulled into your driveway and walked around to help you out of the car, lending you a hand along the path and up the steps to your door. He stands on the lower step as you unlock the door, before you turn around to tell him goodbye. When you turn, you're almost at his height due to the different steps you two are stood upon and you're not quite sure what compels you, but you reach for him and lean in to a hug, tucking your head onto his shoulder. If he's surprised he doesn't react as such, wrapping his arms around you as well briefly.

"Thanks Hotch."

"I'll pick you up at 8:30AM tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good. I'll be the one standing right here, holding the cups of coffee."

He smiles, rolling his eyes just slightly, before turning around and walking away.

*------------*

He first becomes aware of only pain. A piercing, stabbing pain that he can feel everywhere, centered around the abdominal area. He can't move, everything feels heavy. Opening his eyes is a struggle and he manages to only open his eyes a fraction, before being forced to close them tight again. It was bright. White and too bright for his sensitive eyes.

He's slowly starting to realize where he is - becoming increasingly aware of the pain and the bandages, the needle connecting an I.V. to his arm - he's in a hospital. He tries to remember what happened - he'd dropped you off, waited until you made it inside and waved him off, before leaving. He'd gotten back to his apartment. It had been quiet. Eerily quiet. Then Foyet was there. After that all he recalls is pain and Foyet's voice - over and over and over.

Do I seem impotent now?

You should've made the deal.

This will never be over.

Aaron finds it too difficult to keep his eyes open and closes them once again, slipping under.

The next time he wakes, a technician was present and the girl quickly hurried out when she noticed him move.

Once the nurses became aware that he was conscious, it had been a flurry of activity - doctors and technicians in and out to ensure he was alright and to up the pain medication. Some talk about internal bleeding and nine stab wounds to which he'd simply nodded along. He tried to ask for Dave - someone who could make sense of all of this. They told him no visitors yet, but that family had been informed.

Once Dave enters, that's when he finds out everything. Foyet had dumped him outside the hospital. After he hadn't shown up to pick you up that morning, you'd raised the alarm and Garcia had tracked him down. Nothing was missing from his apartment from what they could tell, despite the mess. The only thing left out was his address book. Dave had it with him and Aaron looks through it, going immediately to the one page that mattered. It wasn't there.

Haley Brooks.

Rossi had sent you to go get Haley since the Marshalls were getting ready for her. You'd left Jack with JJ, assuring him that you'd be right back. He'd already seen his father and you'd watched from a distance as Hotch had adjusted to sit up, insistent on not letting his son see him as anything but alright, even in the context of a hospital bed. Haley had been with them and you watched as her eyes flitted from Hotch to Jack - fear for her son and what he might have to go through, due to his father's job, her main concern. She was worried for Hotch too, of course. She must be. However, their initial interaction that you'd witnessed hadn't been quite how you'd expect a wife to react to her husband being in a hospital. Though, you suppose, she wasn't really his wife anymore. Not that it mattered to him - you're pretty sure in his eyes, she might as well still be.

You approach, and you can hear Hotch and Haley in conversation about what's going to happen next. Foyet had taken only the page in his address book with her name on it, so his intentions were perfectly clear. Haley and Jack were being targeted by a serial killer. That meant they needed to be protected, and you knew that Hotch would have to break it to her.

"Do you know where they're taking us?" Haley asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice. You wait outside, trying not to eavesdrop but it was impossible not to overhear.

"No I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

"Jack has school, Aaron. He has friends. I have a job now." Her voice is accusing and you want to tell her that none of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is the two of them being safe.

"I know. And I'm sorry. We will catch him. And you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you." Hotch's voice comes out low and you can hear the anguish caught in his throat as he speaks to the mother of his child - telling her to take their son and go. Breaking his own heart in the process by keeping Jack away from him. Knowing that that is exactly what Foyet wants. Wants him to suffer.

"Are you sure that we're in danger?" she asks, her voice suggesting that maybe he was overreacting. You feel a surge of anger course through you at that. For her to even suggest that he was overreacting when he was laid up in a hospital bed with multiple stab wounds was simply…you didn't have the words. He wouldn't make her go through this over nothing!

"Yes."

You decide to intervene then. Before she can question it further and agitate him more. He needed to rest. You knock quickly, alerting them both to your presence. "Haley, the Marshalls are ready for you."

She nods and grabs Hotch's hand. You avert your eyes to give them their privacy as Hotch tells her to be brave and strong. He'll see her and Jack after she's met with them.

Haley walks towards you and you point her to the tall female agent standing at the end of the ICU doors, wearing non-descript clothing in order to not garner too much attention. She nods and looks at you, and you see a hint of something pass through her eyes, like she wants to speak, but then seems to think better of it and walks towards the direction you'd pointed her in.

You watch her go, before turning to Hotch. His eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner, and then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. You hesitate for a second, before walking in. Your presence wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, you hope, so you walk towards the bed and take a seat in the chair to his left, waiting until he decides to look at you.

"How're you feeling?" His face is turned towards you as though he's partially surprised you're even there at all. You wonder if he would've preferred you have left him alone instead.

"They're got me some pretty strong meds," he tells you, indicating towards the I.V. drip connected to his arm.

You lean over and read the chart hanging from the side of the bed, eyes glancing over it. "They got you on all of the good stuff - Hydromorphone will get the job done for sure." You try to smile but you know it won't reach your eyes right now.

"How long did it take you to sound the alarm?"

You shift, tilting the chair to look at him better, your teeth worrying your bottom lip and eyes narrowed, trying to work out why he'd ask that. The smell of a hospital was starting to get to you a bit - that odd smell that feels like despair and cleaning supplies. "Ten minutes. At 8:35, I called your cell and you didn't pick up. I called again at 8:36 and 8:37 and 8:38. At 8:39 I told myself I was acting crazy and that the weird feeling I had wasn't anything really. I just needed some breakfast. At 8:40, I called Penelope and had her track you down." You remembered the ten minutes of pure panic you'd gone through when he hadn't been outside at exactly 8:30AM. With anyone else, it wouldn't be a cause for concern. With Hotch, you'd expected him to be there at 8:25AM and so you'd been ready to go by 8:15AM with a travel mug of coffee for the both of you in each hand. He also always texted you when he left his place to come to yours and you hadn't gotten an ETA text that morning. Maybe that's what had originally put you on edge.

He looks at you, an odd look on his face at your explanation as if he's trying to decide what to make of it - the entirely detailed and rambling explanation he got from you, likely catching him off guard a bit. Great, he thinks I'm insane.

A small smile makes its way to his face however, and you're glad he's still capable of that, despite everything. You haven't yet looked down at his bandages. Foyet had stabbed him nine times. You'd seen the notes that Rossi had taken - what Foyet had said to Hotch as he stabbed him. Talking about how Hotch has profiled him as being impotent. The mere act of stabbing Hotch while taunting him with that particular piece of the profile -it filled your stomach with churning acid. It was the closest to sexual assault that Foyet could inflict upon Hotch and you're trying hard not to think about the emotional and mental ramifications of it all for him. The physical was one thing - that's something that people can move past with time. The violation of one's home and one's body however - the toll that takes on ones being and sense of self - that's much more difficult to bury.

Just to even think that he was exaggerating - you're mad all over again at Haley. You shouldn't be. You know that isn't fair at all. She was having her whole life upended. And yet…he was the one in a hospital bed and you're having a hard time recalling her seeming at all concerned for him. She must've been, of course. But…he didn't deserve to be made to feel like shit because of it. It wasn't his fault. Knowing him, he really would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

You avert your eyes to stare at the wheels at the bottom of the bed. They'd wheeled him, unconscious, past you when you'd first arrived at the hospital, not bothering to go into the office and instead arriving straight from your place via a cab. You'd been the first one there, having Garcia call the rest of the team. You'd called Rossi so that he could be the one to call Haley. He'd known her longer. You'd limped your way into the ICU, bypassing every single security check with a flash of your badge.

Pointless really. They wouldn't let you see him. Family first. You had to wait for Haley and Rossi to arrive - they were his emergency contacts. You briefly wondered if that was because he'd never bothered to update it after the divorce or if that was truly still the case - if she would be the person he'd want to have during an emergency.

"Can I say something?" Your voice comes out small and hesitant. He hadn't said anything in the wake of your explanation earlier.

He nods, looking at you curiously.

You wet your lips, clearing your throat a bit and sitting up straighter. It's not your place, and yet.. someone should say it. Someone should tell him.

"Sometimes, when we love people, we allow them to hurt us. We allow them to ignore our pain in favor of elevating their own. We allow them to bypass our feelings and our needs because we believe we aren't as worthy of having what we need acknowledged. I get why, of course. Especially right now, but.." You trail off, not knowing how to finish what you'd started in a way that didn't complete overstep the boundaries that you'd already crossed. He'd know you had heard. He didn't need to know that right now, you didn't exactly love his ex wife. You liked her just fine. But right then, you didn't appreciate how she'd treated him.

Hotch looks at you, breath caught by your words. He hadn't realized you'd overheard the conversation between him and Haley. There could be no other reason for you to be saying all of that. You'd said it all softly, hesitantly, knowing you were crossing some sort of line and yet you'd still said it because you felt he needed to hear it. We love.. We allow… We believe… You were speaking from some amount of personal experience. Your first question to him had been about how he was doing - unlike both Rossi and Prentiss who had asked him what happened. He's not sure why the distinction matters, yet it does.

Haley was right too, however. He can't be upset with her. This was all his fault. He hadn't made a deal with Foyet and now his family - his son - their lives were being upended. Haley had already put up with a lot during their marriage. The divorce should've meant that she no longer had to bear the consequences of his job. He can't help but feel guilty for that - for putting her in this situation. Especially when he's so overtly aware that he could've kept it from happening.

He watches as you sit in that chair, eyeing him apprehensively, chewing on your bottom lip. You care. He can tell you care. You care so overwhelmingly that it's hard to deny it. Sometimes he wishes you didn't. It would make things a lot easier on him if he could think that he felt something for someone that didn't even think about him - that he never crossed your mind even. However, there's far too much proof to the contrary. So instead he has to live with knowing that you care about him, that you think of him, that you likely - in some capacity - love him. The way one might love a friend or a mentor. Somehow that's worse because he has to then deal with you saying stuff like this. Things that make it seem like only you care.

He doesn't know what to say and he can feel tears forming that he's quick to blink away, hoping you hadn't noticed. He swallows and just nods, not trusting himself to say much of anything that didn't involve asking you to stay - possibly forever, because for the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, he feels seen.

You try to smile and change the subject, fill him in on the Marshalls' plan with Haley and Jack. Offer to get him ice chips or some food that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. He notices how at ease you seem in the hospital, and comes to the conclusion that maybe a family member had spent some time in one. You seem to know which nurses to talk to in order to get whatever you needed. You watch like a hawk when they come to do anything with his medications. He's pretty certain you would've slept there overnight had Rossi not asked you to help Morgan with something on the ongoing case.

He misses you as soon as you leave.

*------------*

You catch Jack and Haley on your way out. You know you won't be seeing Jack for a while. The Marshalls would be taking them today. Everything was going to change for them.

You nod at Agent Montgomery - the U.S. Marshall that's going to be on their case for the time being. She shifts, moving to the doorway to give you guys a moment.

Haley is seated at the table, her hands holding onto some paperwork. She meets your eyes briefly and nods before returning to the documents. There's a pen in her hands and you can't help but note that her fingers shake around it a bit.

Jack is seated at another table nearby, Agent Montgomery having cleared the breakroom for their meeting.

"Hey buddy." You kneel down to where Jack has been sitting, coloring a printout that one of the nurses must've provided. Jack turns to you, showing off his work. "That looks amazing, Jack!"

He beams with pride at your praise. "Thanks, Y/N."

"I have to head out, okay. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

Jack gets up and hugs you, wrapping his little pudgy arms tightly around your neck, allowing you to sweep him up entirely. You know this is the last time you'll get to hold him for quite a while, so you allow it to linger, hugging him back tight. "I love you, Jack." Whispered into his ear while you blink back tears.

You release him and stand, making sure he's settled back into his activity and occupied, before turning to Haley. She stands, walks with you a small distance away from Jack. It isn't fair, what's happening to her. You don't really hold anything against her. It's awful, entirely awful what's happening - her whole life was about to be uprooted because of your jobs. Because of all of your collective failure to catch Foyet the first time. It was your mistake and her and Jack were going to pay for it.

You look up at her and you can see how entirely scared she is of what's about to happen. To have to do this on your own was one thing. Doing it with a partner, another. To have to do it all alone while supporting a child - she wouldn't have anyone she knew to rely upon. All by herself and unable to trust anyone.

"We're going to find him. We're gonna catch him. I promise." You know words were of little solace but that's all you have to give right then.

She smiles, a watery smile to match the unshed tears in her eyes. There's a shaky nod before she moves forward, hugging you in much the same manner Jack had. She's a bit taller than you, so you try to stand straight, allowing her to lean against you. "Take care of him." Her voice is a whisper against your ear, as though she's entrusting you with something extremely precious. Which she is, you suppose. She's counting on you to make sure that Hotch would be alright. That Jack's father would be fine, awaiting his son's return.

"I will."

*------------*

It had been a week since Foyet had left Hotch outside the hospital. A week since Haley and Jack had been taken into WITSEC protective custody and given new identities in an unknown location. A week since Morgan had become the new acting Unit Chief of the BAU, taking over in Hotch's stead. To the public - to the outside world - and especially to Foyet, it had to seem like his attack on Hotch had left him completely alone and broken - no wife, no kid, no team to lead.

You hated it.

The team had been assigned a new case late Sunday evening after you'd all pretty much spent the past couple of days in the hospital. Hotch was discharged earlier in the day and was under strict orders to stay on bedrest for the time being. You'd all flown out early Monday morning and it was now Saturday evening, the case having stretched out the entire week due to the Unsub's kill schedule.

You got back home after submitting your report, grabbing a water and a pack of the little bunny crackers you keep on hand for Jack. You're pretty sure you won't be seeing Jack before those expire and someone should eat them. You shower and get dressed for bed, thinking about Hotch. You knew he was home and would be coming back to work next week, doing the absolute bare minimum bed rest that the doctor had mandated. You're fairly certain the doctor had been intimidated into it by Hotch's severe face, daring him to say anything longer than a week.

It's fairly late by the time you actually crawl into bed, plugging your phone into the charger by the nightstand and flickering off the lights, plunging the room into darkness save for the red glow of the alarm clock stating that it was now eleven o'clock. You wonder if anyone has checked in on him while the team has been away. Perhaps Jess, but she must also be out of her mind with worry about Haley and Jack.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you've grabbed your phone and scrolled to his name in your Favorites, pressing on it. You hold the phone up to your ear and listen as it rings, once, twice, thrice, until you hear the sound of it being picked up.

"Hotchner." His voice is low but doesn't sound sleepy, so you're at least confident that you hadn't woken him up. Having nothing to do but lay around must be messing with his carefully regulated sleep schedule.

You suppress a laugh at his formal no-nonsense greeting, even though he undoubtedly knows it's you. "Hey." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

"Is everything alright?" There's a slight edge evident in his voice and you realize that maybe calling him at eleven at night when his wife - ex-wife - and kid are being kept away safe wasn't exactly the right move.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's alright. I'm sorry. I just called to check in. How are you?"

There's a pause where you can hear the ambient sounds of your house settling in along with him shifting - the rustling of a bedsheet and the groan of the frame as he moves to adjust himself. So he had been in bed when you called.

Finally, you hear, "I'm alright. Thank you for dropping off the food."

"Yeah, yeah of course," you respond, your heartbeat picking up a bit for some reason. You figure it's because you're unsure of the call itself still and knowing that Hotch was in bed and you'd likely disturbed him in some sense at least, makes you feel a little uneasy.

For his part, Aaron had been going stircrazy, sitting at home with nothing whatsoever to do. The Marshalls had taken Haley and Jack the very same day. Dave had taken him from the hospital and back to his apartment and Garcia and JJ had dropped by the same day with some groceries and a couple of ready to eat meals for him.

He spent most of Sunday sleeping, the strong painkillers making him drowsy. Monday morning, he awoke to his doorbell and his nurse, Eric, from the hospital was there to help him with the dressage. He didn't think that was covered by his insurance - he could only imagine how much home visits from a medical professional cost - and had told Eric there was some sort of mistake. However, Eric had insisted that someone at the hospital had already worked it out and insurance wasn't an issue - this was a covered service apparently. Since Aaron already knew him, and he really could use the help, he'd let him in. Eric had entered holding a large box of food as well, that he said had been left at the door along with a note. After Eric left, Aaron had opened the box to reveal pre-portioned meals - all homemade, all different, all things he could throw in a microwave easily. The note was just signed with your name, telling him to call if he needed anything else.

He'd slept through most of the days, awakening only to let Eric in daily. He ate only because he had to in order to take his medications. Otherwise his mind was a haze of thoughts and worries - worrying about Jack and Haley, about Foyet being around the next corner, about the team managing without him, and somewhere at the farthest reaches of his mind your face danced around - worried and concerned for him, despite doing your very best to appear otherwise.

When your name flashed across his phone late at night, at first he felt the thrust of panic - that something had happened. And then there's your voice, calm and even, asking him how he's doing. No one else had called him. Dave and Prentiss had texted once or twice over the week, but with a case going on, everyone had been busy.

There's a brush of silence after he thanks you for the food and he can hear you take a breath and shift ever so much. He realizes that you're calling him while most likely lying in bed. It causes his heart to speed up and a tight coil to begin tightening in his stomach. It's utterly benign - he has no reason to feel that way, and yet, yet he does.

"How was the case?" he asks, desperate for someone to speak with, not wanting the phone call to end.

You're slightly surprised but you easily talk him through the details of the case, the profiling process and how the team had approached it. You find yourself babbling on for a while as he asks you questions about the evidence, how the local detectives had been, how the team was doing.

Aaron listens to you, taking it all in. You're good at this, providing all the details you know he'd want. You notice everything, all the little things. How the local detectives had responded to Morgan being in charge - how it had been easier for JJ to liaise with them more closely instead. How Reid was getting much more comfortable with having a weapon in the field. There's a soft, sleepy quality to you despite your obvious willingness to tell him everything. Your voice like a salve, doing more for him than any of the medications the doctors had prescribed.

He's not sure when or how, but the conversation has meandered from the case to something Prentiss had told you once, to a story he had of Dave and Gideon back when he first joined the team, and then to a professor of yours from college who had been particularly invested in the Bundy trials in a near obsessive manner. He finds himself laughing for the first time since that night at the bar with you.

When his eyes next catch the time, it is past 2AM. You'd been on the phone for the past three hours. Before this, the longest phone call he's ever had was fifteen minutes.

"It's late," he whispers, almost as though he doesn't want you hear him. "You should get some sleep."

You glance at your clock and find yourself shocked at how long the two of you had been on the phone together. Who knew Hotch was even capable. Though, you figure, you'd been doing the bulk of the talking, rambling on about something or the other. He must be utterly exhausted of listening to your voice.

"You should too," you murmur through a yawn, your eyes flickering under the weight of your lashes.

"Good night, Y/N." You can hear a smile in his voice and it's almost as though you can feel him - the way he feels when he hugs you, warm and strong, firm against you, surrounding you completely with his being.

"Night Hotch."

*------------*

Hotch had been back a couple of weeks and the team was adjusting. While Morgan was indeed the public face of the team, Hotch was very still involved and working far too much behind the scenes. You've kept an eye on him, looking for signs of him overexerting himself. He is, of course. He's burying himself in work, diving in head first because that's likely easier than focusing on everything else. So far, all you've done is give him looks that say Shouldn't you be going home? and Is this really what you want to spend a Wednesday at 9PM doing? He doesn't acknowledge them openly but you know that he knows that you see exactly what he's trying to do. He'll leave once he realizes that you're staying if he is.

You're not quite sure how to check on him during the weekends. Before, you used to have Jack as the reason why you saw him. Now, without Jack, you're not quite sure how to go about seeing Hotch and making sure he's alright, without it somehow being seen as overstepping. You nudge Rossi to go check on him one of the days and then another, you invited the entire team over for dinner so that you know he ate. You know he won't let you cook for him if he's no longer on bedrest, even though the way he holds his gun and the sharp inhale he takes anytime he has to put the Kevlar on is extremely telling.

JJ wants everyone in the conference room on the other side of the floor since your regular one is taken and she calls you to inform everyone of the change in venue for the scheduled meeting. You glance up from your desk after having told Derek and Emily of the location change, trusting them to tell Spencer when he returns. JJ isn't expecting everyone for another half hour, and Emily had caught Rossi as he was heading out to lunch, so he's also aware. Emily and Derek follow in his steps, asking if you're going to join them, but you wave them on ahead.

You take the steps up to Hotch's office swiftly, knocking and turning the knob in one motion, only to find him standing behind his desk, no jacket or tie, shirt unbuttoned, a patch of red visible on his skin from one of the stab wounds inflicted by Foyet. He looks up at you and you can feel the surprise in his eyes. It was your fault, you should've waited. That was stupid. Your eyes can't seem to look away from the blood spotting the otherwise white wrappings that sit in a pile on the desk.

"I - I'm sorry," you stutter out, blinking and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. You notice that his shirt was also equally marred, the blood having seeped through. You'd obviously interrupted him.

He draws a breath, and you can see him try to put on a mask of being unbothered by your sudden appearance. "Did you need something?"

'Um, JJ had to move the briefing to the other conference room," you inform him, still unable to look away. You're staring. You know are. It's dawning upon you how entirely you'd fucked up. Hotch was such a private person. He'd hate having someone see him in such a state of vulnerability.

He nods. "Thank you. Could you close the door, please?"

You don't move from your spot in the doorway.

"Y/N?"

You're not sure what exactly has overcome you, except this overwhelming need to take care of him. Especially now, right then when he's hurting. Bleeding quite literally. Hotch takes care of everyone. Every single one of you. But no one takes care of him. Not the way he needs to be cared for.

You cross the threshold, shutting and locking the door behind you. He seems entirely taken aback as you approach him silently. There's a voice in your head telling you that this, right here, this was the definition of overstepping. Yet, there is a more insistent compulsion residing within you, urging you forward until you've reached him. He looks at you, confusion in his features.

"Let me." You reach for the alcohol wipes on the table, meant to disinfect the affected region.

He doesn't say anything, but he also doesn't move, making it difficult for you to actually reach him as he's standing flush to his desk. He only looks at you, brows scrunched together, the pronounced cleft of his lower lip set tightly.

"Let me." You repeat yourself, moving forward and forcing him to back up a little and make room for you. You deftly move to sit on his desk, facing him, and beckon him towards you without looking up. If you looked up, you might lose your nerve.

You part your legs and much to your surprise, he actually moves forward, coming to settle between them. You can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You're suddenly very aware of the friction between his dress pants and the material of your own fitted ones.

You take the alcohol wipe and tear open the packaging, unraveling the cloth before cautiously moving towards him and dabbing at the area that seemed to have opened up slightly. He releases a sharp hiss and suddenly, his hand is at your waist, gripping tightly. You pause, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut, lips pressed tightly together. After a second, he nods, indicating at you to continue. He doesn't make a sound again as you clean up the area, though he does tighten his grip ever so slightly a couple more times.

You look at the items on his desk and pick up the jar of salve that he must put on prior to the dressings. Carefully, you unscrew the lid, looking up at him with a question in your eyes. He nods again, barely looking at you.

You try to do it quickly. Fingers picking up some of the salve and gingerly spreading it over the region, brushing past raised skin, puckered up as it heals. Slowly. Not fast enough for him.

Aaron watches as your head is bent, teeth biting down on your lower lip in concentration as you gently span the entirely of his chest and stomach. Soft, dainty fingers quickly working so as to put him out of his misery faster.

Of all people, he didn't want you to see him this way. So vulnerable, so exposed, so scarred. You'd thrown him off balance when you hadn't quickly scampered away after you realized your error in barging in. Approached him with such purpose that he hadn't known how to turn you away.

You reach for the fresh roll of gauze next, swallowing as you look up at him once again. "This would be easier if you take the shirt off."

He shrugs it off at your words, placing it on the back of his chair. There's a fresh shirt on the seat of his chair. He'd been prepared, it would seem.

"This might put a dent in the line of women waiting to pounce." He indicates towards his chest, self deprecation dripping from his weak attempt at humor, in an effort to cut whatever imaginary tension he had made up in his head.

You look at his face, seeing the vulnerability and insecurity as plain as can be. He doesn't need to verbalize his thoughts in order for you to know exactly what he's thinking. What he's been thinking.

Who would want someone this grotesque?

Who would want a man as broken as this?

Who could possibly bear the sight of him - marred forever? His very flesh a perpetual reminder of the terror he wades through, the monsters he encounters, the horror that is his life.

"No."

Your answer is simple, straightforward. Yet nothing has ever confused him more as he watches you hold one end of the gauze to the front of his chest near the top of the scarring, and then bring the roll around his back, over it to hold it in place, your small hands ghosting over his skin with the utmost propriety, intent in making this as painless, as easy, as comfortable for him as possible.

"I'm not going to tell you some patronizing bullshit about scars being beautiful."

You control your breath in easy measured paces, forcing him to follow along. One breath in. Pause. Breath out. Repeat. You continue to wrap the dressing around his chest slowly, your eyes fixed on the task at hand to ensure that it was all straight and even, tight but not too tight.

"They do, however, speak to all that you've endured. All that you've conquered. Overcome. Anyone who loves you will see you just as you are. They would think you absolutely incredible. Regardless of anything. Because of it all."

Aaron focuses on your voice, soft and melodic and yet sure. So very sure. How could you possibly be so sure?

"Someone who loves you will see the scars," your fingers press ever so slightly against his chest, "and they will know. They will know all that you've undergone to become who are - how you survived despite the odds."

You take a sudden shuddered breath as you recall the sight of him unconscious in the hospital bed, being wheeled past you. You're quick to shake it away.

"They will be grateful. To have you, scars and all."

You finish, tucking in the end of the gauze firmly and ensuring it wouldn't come loose with just the slightest of motions.

You look up at him then, finally meeting his eyes properly. Beautiful, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold brought on by the late afternoon sunlight that was filtering through the windows.

Aaron can't help but look at you. He rarely gets to see you this up close. So very close. If he were to just bend down the smallest amount, there'd be no space at all. Your hair bundled back into a professional low bun, soft wisps framing your face. The cupid's bow lips - pouty, pink, perfect lips. The upturned nose and the slight babyface cheeks that accompanied it. He realizes his hand is still gripped onto your waist and he's reluctant to remove it. Not yet. In a bit. Not yet.

"Thank you." His eyes are closed as he says it so he misses it when you nod your acknowledgement.

You lean past him, one hand grabbing his forearm for balance while the other reaches for the shirt on the chair. You'd started the job. Might as well finish it. You unbutton the collar and he takes it from you, quickly slipping it on, and yet not moving away. His hand returns to your waist. Staying where you could easily reach up and start buttoning it for him. So you do.

Aaron knows you don't need a response to everything you'd said. He also is quite certain that you believe it. No matter the entirely shallow world you'd been a part of, he knows that you aren't like that. You might be a little vain - the nice clothes and makeup, the care you put into your own appearance. However, you're not vain like this.

Aaron breathes out a deep sigh that he'd been holding for some time as you dexterously work each button into its proper hole. He really could get used to this. To you.

"Why do you always sit on stuff?" His voice is soft and low, calmer.

You glance up, noting the slight humor dancing behind his eyes while he waits for your answer.

You can't help but smile, a breath of laughter escaping you just barely. "I suppose…because I'm short," you admit, shaking your head as you continue down the trail of buttons. "Makes it easier for me to be at eye level if I sit on higher surfaces."

He laughs. A near boisterous laugh. His chest rumbles underneath your hands, causing your fingers to tremble.

You can't help but laugh along with him, releasing a deep held breath as you do.

He would be alright. He would.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Supernova | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2712

A/N: This technically is part 2 to Galaxy, but can be read standalone. Mostly I just wanted to write a fic for Entropy and already had a universe that I could work with.

GALAXY MASTERLIST

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, PTSD, alcohol. SPOILERS FOR 11x11 (Entropy).

“Let me go.”

“No,” your unit chief didn’t look up from the file he was reading as you paced in front of his desk.

“Let me go with JJ,” you tried again.

“No,” Hotch��s eyes stayed glued to the information in front of him.

“Let me go with Rossi, he won’t let me do anything irrational. I won’t do anything irrational anyways, I don’t need a babysitter, but I will literally do anything if it means you’ll let me go to that restaurant.”

“You’re not going.”

“Hotch-”

“I’m not going to tell you again, (y/n). I know you want to help, you can do that from here,” he finally looked up at you, stone-faced. You sighed in defeat and left his office, slumping down at your own desk once you had crossed the bullpen. A steaming cup of coffee was slid in front of you, Penelope’s gentle hand resting on your shoulder for a moment before she sat down across from Spencer’s desk.

“Thanks,” your words were quiet and defeated, characteristics that weren’t normal for you. You took the cup in your hands but it was only a matter of minutes before you were pacing again, watching your friends- your family gather as they prepared for the events that were about to happen.

JJ, clad in a fluffy burgundy jacket, approached you slowly, “you ok?”

“I should be going with you,” you told her, “Hotch thinks I’m a liability, but I don’t see how keeping a fully functioning agent on the sidelines is any better.”

“Are you fully functioning? I’m sorry, (y/n), but I agree with Hotch. We’ll keep him safe, you do what you can from here.”

“That’s just it, Jayje. I can’t do anything from here. We already have a profile, all of my other skills are entirely field-based. I’m going to spend all night pretending to go over the case files while the rest of my family takes down a hitwoman.”

You glanced over your shoulder to where Spencer was standing by Garcia, quickly tying his tie as they searched for information. You had lived through so many cases with the boy wonder by your side, and somehow this was the one that was making your heart stop and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Why is it always him?” JJ’s eyes narrowed as you spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“The train, the shed, the cult, the Anthrax, Maeve, Gideon, shot in the knee, shot in the arm, shot in the neck,” you listed, “I know what we do is dangerous but even for an FBI agent he’s experienced so much…trauma. I just want to put some bubble wrap on him for once.”

“He’s going to be ok,” she reached out a reassuring hand. You leaned into her, still feeling like you were suffocating with what-ifs that could happen to your best friend while you were stuck in the office.

Spencer strode over to you shortly after, sticking his arms through a suit jacket as he crossed the room.

“Hey handsome,” you tried impossibly hard to keep your tone light, not wanting to worry your friend before he went out on this case. His face still softened when he saw your disheveled state. JJ squeezed your arm lightly before walking over to Rossi, leaving you alone with the doctor.

“You’re worried about me,” he observed.

“Is that a crime? You’re having dinner with a hitwoman, I have every right to be worried, especially since Hotch sidelined me.”

“Yeah… about that,” Spencer stuck his hands in his pockets nervously, his tongue flickering over his lips.

“You didn’t,” you wanted to get angry as it dawned on you, but you were still too convinced this was the last time you were going to see your best friend.

“I could tell you weren’t happy with the plan when I first pitched it to you. I asked Hotch to keep an eye on you just in case. He’s being careful, (y/n).”

“I’m still not happy with this plan. I’m even less happy that I’m not allowed to participate,”

“I know, but once Cat is in custody you can come over to my apartment and we’ll watch as many episodes of Doctor Who as you want,” he proposed.

You shifted your weight as you considered his offer, “are you sure this is going to work?”

“There’s no other way.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “but we’re starting with Nine. Chris Eccleston is severely underrated.”

“Perfect,” Spencer smiled softly at you before checking his watch, “we should get going. You’re going to be ok here with Garcia.” You nodded, following him towards the glass doors as the dread of what he was walking into crept up your spine again.

He pushed the button on the wall, idly twisting his fingers together as you waited for the elevator to arrive.

“Spencer,” he turned to you with the most genuinely soft Spencer smile, “you’re the only you we’ve got. We can’t-” you cleared your throat, “I can’t lose you.”

“I know,” his voice was soft and calm and embodied everything you loved about the genius. Anything he was going to say after that was interrupted by the ding of the elevator doors opening beside you.

As much as it pained you to watch him get onto the elevator and leave you behind, you had complete faith in his abilities. It was the unpredictable nature of everyone else involved in the network that scared you the most. The rest of the team came from behind you, each patting your shoulder as they passed. Derek was the last, pulling you into a tight hug.

“We’ve got this. He’s got this,” he whispered.

“Promise you’ll bring him back alive?”

“I promise,” he squeezed you even tighter before letting you go and joining the rest of your colleagues.

“This is the worst part,” Penelope said from your side as you watched the elevator doors close.

“I can’t keep wallowing. I need something to do. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“We’ll go to the batcave! There’s plenty to do there,” she smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you into her office. Eventually Hotch joined you, directing Garcia to start patching in the various team members.

You could feel the stagnant tension between you and the unit chief and you didn’t like it. As seemingly emotionless and serious as Hotch was he filled a certain void in your life that had been missing since you were young. He was your boss though, and you had just tried to go against his orders so the tension was unavoidable.

While everyone was getting situated Hotch tasked you with going over every bit of information that had been gathered from the Sniper. It was a menial task like you had predicted, everyone had poured over these files a million times prior to tonight, and though you appreciated the attempt at distraction you couldn’t help but turn your head to Garcia’s monitors any time you heard something from the team.

“JJ stand down,” Hotch directed. Abandoning your files you scooted your chair to Garcia’s other side to watch the screen in front of you. You didn’t dare say anything, this was Hotch’s call to make. You started listening deeper to the conversation Spencer was having with Cat, chewing on your bottom lip as you did so. You had spent years listening to him talk, but this was a whole new level of banter. Cat was keeping up with him at an impossible speed. You watched as she reached up to grab Spencer’s tie.

“She muffled the mic, we lost audio,” Garcia practically whispered next to you. You waited for what felt like an eternity before you heard Reid’s voice again.

“Rossi, stand down. Please,” his eyebrows furrowed as he tucked his tie back into his vest.

“I should be in there,” you mumbled, eyes glued to his face on the screen.

“She doesn’t know about Morgan and Lewis,” Hotch reminded you. You held back your retort when the team collectively learned about the bomb that was planted under the building. The impending danger gave your intuitive mind something more productive to focus on, but amidst the chaos you still heard Spencer’s voice, clear as day.

“Double or nothing I can get you to sit back down.”

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, still trying to work out the bomb situation.

“Spencer,” you hissed even though he couldn’t hear you, pressing your earpiece impossibly further into your ear. You listened as Spencer countered with Cat until she sat down again and he resumed his story.

“Wait. Your mother- tell me.” As Spencer started talking about his trip to Las Vegas, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Penelope looked at Hotch.

“Did you know?”

“No,” she turned to you.

“Did you know?”

You cleared your throat slightly, though it didn’t seem to help, “no, he said he’d tell me about his trip later, once we were done with the case.” You were shocked, to say the least, and frustrated that you hadn’t seen something like this coming. Spencer had seemed so normal when you met up with him at work earlier that day, even hugging you when he found you spinning in your desk chair waiting for him.

“I’ve got her,” Lewis’ voice broke your thoughts as she and Morgan started moving towards the Bomber. In your earpiece you could hear their struggle, but all you could see was Cat pointing the gun at your best friend’s face. Penelope reached over to grab your hand as Morgan started talking to Cat.

“Kid I am trying to save your life, now let me do that.”

“He promised,” your voice was so soft you weren’t even sure if you were speaking aloud, “he promised, he promised, he promised.”

As Spencer had previously mentioned, this was not the first time a killer had pointed a gun at him. It was also not the first time you had seen a gun pointed at him. The difference was that all of the other times you had seen Spencer at gunpoint you had been on site with him. You knew the doctor could handle himself, he didn’t need you to save him, but if he got shot in that restaurant you wouldn’t be there fast enough to say goodbye.

Your eyes narrowed and your brows smashed together as Cat was placed in handcuffs. You didn’t like the way she requested Spencer walk her out.

“You want to go home?” Hotch asked Garcia, putting his hand on her shoulder. The woman beside you was sobbing as she nodded. You couldn’t imagine the relief she must have been feeling, though you were experiencing your own kind of relief knowing that Spencer was safe.

You helped Penelope pack up her things and drove home with her, thankful for the distraction because you knew it would still be a while before Spencer came back to the office.

“I’m going over to Derek and Savannah’s for drinks, are you coming? We’re celebrating my freedom!” She called from her bedroom.

“I don’t know, Spencer and I were going to watch Doctor Who at his place,” you fiddled with the buttons on your phone, waiting for Reid to call.

“He can meet you at Derek’s. Come on, it’ll be fun,” she took your hand, not giving you another option. Normally you would be more gung-ho about spending time with your friends, especially with an outcome as positive as the one that had happened in that restaurant, but there was a weight on your chest that wasn’t going away and it made you unsettled.

This feeling continued even when Penelope started drinking. Savannah gave you a glass of wine, but you only had a few sips before excusing yourself to the bathroom. Standing over the sink, you struggled to breathe and it felt like your heart was going to explode out of your tightening chest. You couldn’t get the image of Spencer being held hostage out of your head. It felt like every flashback you had experienced since coming home from overseas, though you hadn’t had an episode like that in months.

You focused on your breathing, deep breaths that rattled your bones, and tried to calm yourself down. You vaguely heard a commotion coming from the front of the house, so you focused on that until you could breathe normally again. You brushed a wayward tear from your cheek, then stepped out of the bathroom. Penelope was wearing significantly less clothing, and Derek was standing in the entryway with Savannah.

Derek released his grip on his girlfriend to hug you, “I told you I wouldn’t let him die.”

“Where is he?”

“He said he was going home. He only left a few minutes ago, you should be able to catch up to him,” Derek pulled away from you.

“Thanks,” you told him sincerely, grabbing your phone and keys before heading out the door. You didn’t expect to find your friend so soon, but his lanky frame was unmistakeable sitting on a swing in the park between Derek’s house and Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t say anything when you approached, instead sinking down onto the swing next to him and digging your feet into the woodchips beneath you.

“Were you at Derek’s?” he finally spoke.

“Yeah, Garcia made me go. I thought she told you,” you laughed quietly.

“No, I would have waited for you if I had known. Do you still want to come back to my place?” he turned to you for the first time. Even in the darkness you could see the circles under his eyes.

“Are you sure? I can take a rain check if you need some time to breathe. That case was…” you trailed off, not sure if you could find the words to explain the evening’s events. Spencer didn’t answer, instead leaving a pregnant pause in the warm evening air before finally speaking.

“It’s kind of ironic.”

“What is?”

“My whole life the one thing I’ve been good at is remembering, and now I’m faced with a disease that could take that away,” there was melancholy in his words, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen since the night he had told you about his Dilaudid addiction.

“Are you going to get tested?” you knew he wasn’t looking for advice or your opinion, the best you could do was help lay out what you knew was a tangled mess of thoughts inside his mind.

“I can’t. I’m too young to show the chromosomal indicators,” he went back to looking at his feet, “I just need to fix it to help my mom and maybe I’ll figure out a solution for myself along the way.”

“Your mom is a tough lady. Whatever you work out in that brain of yours, even if it ends up being completely wrong, it’s going to be with the best intentions for your family. You have a heart of gold, Spencer Reid,” you saw the corner of his mouth pull upwards.

“I would really like it if you would come over,” he stood up from the swing, “I don’t think either of us should be completely alone tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked as you joined him, starting to walk shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk towards his building.

“You had a panic attack earlier,” his nonchalant words caught you off guard.

“Yeah, at Derek’s house. It was mild though, I worked through it pretty quickly. How did you know?”

“You’ve been fidgeting with your bracelet this whole time. You only do that when you’re trying to ground yourself.”

“You know me too well,” you smirked.

“You know me in a way I never thought possible,” he retorted emphatically.

“I know I make it look easy but trust me, it’s not,” your tone was light and teasing, a much needed lapse of normalcy from the otherwise heavy night.

You and Spencer were two inseparable souls, intertwined because the universe saw two lost kids who desperately needed someone to understand them in a way only the other could provide.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong? About what?”

“There are plenty of things you’re good at besides remembering. Don’t sell yourself so short.”

GALAXY MASTERLIST

#platonic imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm 11x11 #cat adams #platonic soulmates

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

Bratty (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reid must supervise Camille, who makes Reid’s job anything but easy for him.

Category: Soft angst Couple: OCFem!Reader x Spencer Reid Word Count: 2.6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“You’re being ridiculous.” Camille huffed.

“No - what I’m being is a good uncle.” Cruz retorted while handing Camille a jacket.

“It’s literally midnight!”

“Exactly. I’m not leaving you alone this late at night.”

“You’re seriously gonna make me go all the way to Quantico with you right now?”

“I won’t be able to leave work after I’m there. If you come with me, I can work and take care of you.” He explained.

“I’m an adult! I can take care of myself.”

Cruz completely dismisses this. “I already told JJ that you’re coming. She’s excited to see you again. You can meet the whole team, too.”

“If I go, will you please stop acting like I’m a child?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs.

Camille groans in mild frustration as she reluctantly readies herself to leave with her uncle for Quantico.

As soon as Camille enters the BAU, she’s showered with love from JJ.

“Hey, you! How are you holding up?”

“Well right now, I’m really wishing I didn’t give Uncle Matt a key to my apartment.” Camille quips.

“Yeah, maybe when he’s distracted I’ll grab his keys and remove yours.”

JJ’s joke makes Camille smile. JJ winks at Camille before turning away to talk to Matt.

“How’s Elena?” Elena is Camille’s mother and Matt’s sister.

“Reception’s shoddy where she is, but when I drove her to the airport, she couldn’t be more excited. She’s always wanted to travel to an underdeveloped country and teach English as a second language. That’s why it wasn’t even a question if I would take care of Camille while she was away.”

“Good for her. I guess it runs in your blood to want to help people, huh?”

“No,no she’s more selfless than me. I can tell you that. She’s so patient with her students. Probably developed that skill when she had Camille. I love her to death, but kid’s feisty. Just like her mom when she was her age.”

JJ grimaces in preparation for a hard question she feels obligated to ask. “You know, it’s none of my business, but what’s Camille - 21, 22?”

“21.”

“I know you told Elena you’d watch her, but helicopter parenting her like she’s a teenager isn’t the way.”

“Forgive me if I’m not comfortable leaving her alone with a serial killer on the loose.”

This statement alone is enough to shut JJ down. On a lighter note, the team greets Camille.

“Welcome. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner.”

“Camille de la Vega. Nice to finally meet you.”

“You’ve met JJ. This is Agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi. She’s our technical analyst - Penelope Garcia. And this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Camille goes down the line shaking everyone’s hands, but then she reaches Reid.

“A doctor in the FBI?”

He corrects her instantaneously. “Not M.D. PHD. Three of them actually. Chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.”

“Good to know.” She nods.

Camille extends her hand to shake his and everyone notices that he obliges.

“Hey, Reid what’s with the handshake? I thought it was safer to kiss.” Morgan teases.

Camille shyly laughs.

“Yeah, why the exception, kid?”

“Don’t listen to them.” Reid timidly tells Camille, making her grin from ear to ear. She’s already taken a particular liking to him. And from the looks of it, he’s done just the same.

“Although I’d love to catch up with you, Camille, we have to start working immediately. Anderson will show you to your uncle’s office.” Hotch gestures towards Anderson who’s waiting in the doorway to lead Camille out of the round table room.

. . .

Notably, the clock reads 4:10 a.m. Camille is reading a book at her uncle’s desk, when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Spencer.

“Oh, hi. Did you need to grab something from his desk? I can move if you need me to.” She politely offers.

“No, no I actually came to bring you food. I thought you might be hungry.”

Camille thanks him and accepts the paper bag of food.

Reid notices she’s reading a book. “What are you reading?”

“Little Women.” Camille says, flashing the cover.

“Have you read it before?”

“Mhm. It’s one of my favorites. Have you?”

“My mom read it to me when I was younger.”

Camille sees an opportunity to mess with him and takes it. “Wasn’t it crazy how Laurie set the March house on fire and all of them died?”

Spencer furrows his brows in confusion.

“I, um, I don’t remember that part.”

Camille immediately registers Reid’s discomfort. “I was just messing with you.”

“Oh.” Spencer nods and forces a laugh. “I should, um, probably get back. Do you want anything before I go? Coffee, water, maybe?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you.” Reid scrunches his lips into a small smile before closing the door behind him.

As he makes his way back to the round table, he smiles so widely, that when Morgan passes him, he notices.

“Stop it right there, Pretty Boy.”

Reid stops in his tracks.

“Now turn around.”

Reid obeys.

“Why do you look like a kid in a candy shop right now? What did I miss?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For someone that studies behavior, he’s not too good at lying. Morgan sees right through Reid.

“Come on, man. You can tell me.”

Penelope passes by.

“Tell him what? Whatcha hiding, Boy Wonder?”

“Nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”

Morgan and Garcia look at him with skepticism.

“Did you hear how his voice did that thing? His voice only gets that high when he’s lying.” Garcia notes.

Reid clears his throat to deliberately speak in a lower pitch. “No it doesn’t.”

Garcia squints her eyes at him. “What do you not want us to know?”

“Guys, seriously. It’s nothing.”

“Is this about Cruz’s niece?” Morgan asks, hitting the nail on the head.

“Ooh, I knew something was fishy when you shook her hand.”

“It was just a handshake, okay?”

“Well, excuse me, but I’m having a hard time believing you.” Morgan cleverly retorts.

“I don’t like her. If that’s what you’re implying.”

Morgan smirks. “Oh is that so? Then riddle me this Pretty Boy - where were you just now?”

Reid loosens his tie, feeling like it’s a noose.

“Oh did you see that? His body language is speaking for itself. And it’s saying A LOT.” Garcia giggles.

“Go get em, tiger.” Morgan leaves Reid to his devices with a pat on his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

. . .

No longer reading, Camille is scanning her uncle’s shelves - looking at the pictures and the books, and opening and closing different cabinets or drawers in his desk. A knock on the door startles her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just checking in. How are you?”

She frowns. “Incredibly bored. I finished my book like thirty minutes ago.”

Reid checks his watch.

“How long was I gone?”

A small laugh leaves her lips. “I was basically at the end when you left.”

Reid’s lips shift to one side of his face as he thinks of something to help Camille out. “Um, I - I have newspapers. With, with crosswords on them. I can bring them to you.”

Reid rushes out of the room and comes back awfully quickly with a stack of newspapers. Camille laughs delightfully at the sight of them.

“These are scans of ones I’ve already solved.”

“You’ve solved all of these? What are you? Some kind of genius?”

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified. But I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Camille is in awe.

“Uh, yes, I’m a genius.”

“So what I’m hearing is, if I get stuck on a word, I could just ask you and you’d remember what the right answer was?”

“Kind of takes the fun out of solving it yourself, don’t you think?”

“Not if it means I get to see you again.”

Reid laughs uncomfortably. “Uh, so how will I know if you need help?”

“I’ll text you.”

“You don’t have my - Oh got it.”

Camille makes a face and hands him her phone to take. He makes a contact for himself and hands her back the phone.

“Great. See you in an hour, Laurie.”

Reid’s caught off guard.

“If I’m Laurie, are you Jo or Amy?”

“Well that depends. Am I the best friend or the love interest?”

Reid raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I resonate more with Amy - if that’s what you were asking. I’m young and driven - like her.”

“I always thought Amy to be sort of a brat.”

"She knows what she wants. So do I.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you want?” This is a newfound display of confidence coming from the Doctor. It catches her by surprise.

Camille doesn’t play into it, just to tease him. “What I want is for you and your team to catch this guy, so I can go home.”

“I should, uh, I should go back now. See you in an hour.”

“Looking forward to it.” She says sarcastically.

. . .

Reid is working on the geographical profile when he feels his phone buzz. Without even needing to see it, he knows it’s Camille.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You’re late for your check in, Doctor.

Reid looks at his watch. He’s only three minutes late.

REID: Sorry, I’m busy. And you’re only supposed to text when you have a question. That wasn’t a question.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Fine, here's a question - when are you gonna make your hourly check in?

REID: A question pertaining to the crossword.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Los Angeles Times. 64 down. Clue is “Dr. Reid is late for his check in. When should he be expected?”

REID: The ‘Amy’ in you is showing.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: The brat part of her or the love interest part of her?

REID: Former.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s fine. I can wait. Nowhere else I have to be anyway.

REID: I’ll be there when I’m done.

. . .

Reid is walking through the hall and entering Cruz’s office. Camille works diligently on the crossword.

“Not so fast. You have to stop by the main office and get a tardy slip.” She quips.

“Funny. How’s the crossword?”

“I’ve finished two of them since you’ve been gone.”

Reid glances at his watch. “That doesn’t make any sense. The average time to finish a puzzle is 21 minutes. I’ve been gone for 88.”

"I got distracted.”

“Really? By what?”

Camille fights a smirk. “A little birdie who stopped by.”

Reid shakes his head and exasperates. He needn’t know more to figure out what she meant by this.

"Which one - Garcia or Morgan?”

"Does it matter?”

"What’d they say?”

"Enough.”

"Enough to?”

Camille gets up from the chair and walks around to the front of the desk. This places her right in front of Reid. This is the closest they’ve been yet.

"Enough to let me know whether I’m the best friend or the love interest.”

Camille draws back and grabs her coat from off the chair. She puts it on.

"So who are you? Jo or Amy?”

"Don’t play coy. You know the answer. You are a genius after all.”

Camille grabs her purse off the desk and begins to leave the office.

“Where are you going? I thought you were supposed to leave?”

Camille exits the office and begins to walk into the hallway toward the elevator. The worried doctor follows close behind.

"I’m going for a walk to a cafe. No offense, but I’m not a huge fan of the coffee you’ve got here. Plus, I could use the fresh air.”

"You shouldn’t leave. Especially not alone.”

"Not you, too. Come on. You know I’m not a target. From what I saw in your little conference room, all the victims are blonde. And unless I bleach my hair between here and the time I reach the sidewalk, I think I’ll be okay.”

"Are you at least going to let your Uncle know where you’re going?”

She shoots him a deadpan stare. “What would be the fun in that?”

Camille presses the button near the elevator.

"Anderson can order coffee for you. He’ll bring it back here so you don’t have to leave.” Reid suggests.

"Mmm, no thanks. I’m a big girl.”

The elevator door opens.

“Are you sure about that? Because right now you’re acting like a -”

He hesitates. Camille steps into the elevator and turns on her heels so she can face him before the doors close.

She provokes him. "Say it.”

"You’re acting like a brat!”

"Oh I’m sorry - is my ‘Amy’ showing, Dr. Reid? Well, I am your love interest after all - Laurie.”

Camille winks and the doors close. Reid lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head and he begins to jog to the stairwell. With speed and caution he only exhibits when trying to apprehend an unsub, he flies down the stairs. His slender figure can’t support this kind of cardio, but nonetheless, he runs.

When he finds himself in the parking garage, just beside the elevator, he sees Camille several feet away, walking out of the structure completely. He runs as fast as his feet can take him. Eventually he reaches her before she’s on the main sidewalk.

"Camille, wait!”

He’s breathless and red. Camille walks back over to him with a devilish grin.

"Did you actually just run all the way here?”

"What gave me away?”

This earns a hearty laugh from Camille.

"I’m coming with you.” He breathlessly explains.

"Why didn’t you say so earlier? Would’ve saved you the marathon.”

"Yeah, yeah, be quiet.”

“Swallow your pride. Occasionally, it’s not fattening.”

“Frank Tyger. Touché.”

She’s even more impressed at his knowledge of the quote she recited. This makes her more keen to starting an actual dialogue with him instead of just provoking him.

“So why’d they leave you behind?” She asks.

“They didn’t leave me behind. I just choose not to go. I’m notorious for being prone to gunshot wounds, so I choose to stay where I know I’ll be safe. What about you? Why’d Cruz bring you to the office?”

"For the same reason you stayed back. He wants me somewhere I’ll be safe.”

"You’re a little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?”

“You would think, but Uncle Matt has this gift where every time he looks at me, he still sees his helpless 8 year old niece.”

“What happened when you were 8?”

Camille doesn’t even realize what she might’ve accidentally revealed. “Freudian slip. Nothing you need to worry about.”

"You sure?”

“All you need to know is that what happened to me motivated him to work in the field. Ever since then he’s been working to get to the top.”

"So how old are you anyway, little woman?”

"Oh, is that my nickname now? An outright juxtaposition of “big girl” and a reference to the book?”

"Mhm.”

"21.”

"Wow, you really are a little woman.”

"Better than being an old man.”

“Old man? I’m 32.”

"My point exactly.”

"You’re welcome by the way. For doing this.” He adds.

"Oh please, I didn’t ask you to walk me to the cafe.”

“But you wanted me to.”

"Oh wow, you know about reverse psychology. Congrats you’re with the other 98% of the population that does too. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. You wouldn’t have followed me if you didn’t want to come.”

"What I want is for you to be safe.”

"Like I said before, I don’t fit the victimology. He has a type and it’s not me. I’m fine going by myself.”

"You know something? You’re really stubborn. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Aww, I’m so hurt. Boo hoo.” She sarcastically remarks.

“You think you can be just a little bit nicer to me? I am babysitting you after all.”

Camille halts.

“I’m gonna ignore the babysitting part, but yes, I can be nice, but right now, I’ve spent 6 hours cooped up in my uncle’s office bored out of my mind.”

"So what? You’re only toying with me because you’re bored and I’m your only entertainment?”

“Oh congrats! You finally figured it out, genius.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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marauder-exe · 4 years ago

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Sick of it- Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Request: I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn...but I would love to see a fic with hotch where maybe he has feelings for the reader who’s in her 20s and she gets injured on the job, leaving her deaf. She’s able to continue working with the BAU but can’t do any extensive field work. She just gets sick of everybody questioning her capability of doing her job. Sorry if that’s too much lol 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: bomb explosion, loss of hearing, angsty but happy ending kinda.

A/N: Welcome back to: Reid loves cliffhangers (in actuality she can just never finish fics)

“Hotch I've told you I'm fine, We got everyone, we detonated all the bombs. Morgan and I are doing a last clearing of the scene, then we’ll be on our way back” You spoke into the phone while continuing to search the area. “Okay, I just-” He hesitated. He couldn't let you know about his feelings. “Your one of the greatest agents this team has ever had, we need you.” He decided to say instead. He always covered his feelings with business. He sighed on the other end of the phone. “Thank you, Aaron” He could've sworn his heart skipped a beat every time you called him Aaron. “i am fine though I prom-” Your words were soon cut short when an ear-splitting explosion echoed through the receiver, quickly followed by a scream of your name from Morgan. His heart dropped. There was a deathly silence. “(Y/N)! Morgan! Whats going on?” His heart clenched at the thought of anything happening to you. He had gained feelings for you around year ago. You had been transferred from Interpol, and quickly proved to the team that you where everything you got cracked up to be. The day he realised it, he felt so guilty. You were 24, he had feelings for a 24 year old. You where old enough to be his daughter. He couldn't do that to Hailey. He tried to repress his feelings. Push so much stuff down on top of them, so he couldn't feel them any more. It never worked though. He turned around to the startled faces of his team, confused by his shout. “Hotch? Whats wrong?” JJ asked, taking in his pale face. “Its-Its (Y/N). i-i heard an explosion and then Morgan shouting her name and then-and then nothing” He dropped the phone he was holding, as if the shock had just knocked him back into action. He ran from the small police room that the team had set up into his jeep. Turning it on, ignoring the shouts of his team, he sped off down the street. “JJ, update the sheriff, me and Reid will go after him” Emily said, loading into her jeep.

The wait was horrendous. It was perhaps the longest wait of his life. Or at least it felt like it. He sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, his knee bouncing rhythmically. He was surrounded by the team, it was clear him and Morgan were the most affected though. Morgan having been there when the bomb went off. He thought about everything. The time you shared together. All the days off that were sent together. The laughs that were shared. The tears that were shed. He thought of it all. He also thought about how he didn't tell you. Didn't admit his feelings for you. And no you might die thinking that no one loves you. It was bitter torture, watching the doctors walk in and out of the waiting room, none of them for you. Until finally, a young male doctor approached the team. “uh, Mr Hotchner?” He asked towards him. His head shot up as he immediately walked over to the doctor. “Thats me” “Shes stable. But she did suffer extensive injuries, im aware the bomb was directly next to her?” He nodded. “Shes lucky she survived, but he did. There wont be much permanent damage. Although we don't know to what extent, we imagine she suffered massive hearing loss. We've assessed her and right now she cannot hear anything, she's completely deaf. We don't know if that will improve in the future” The young man informed Hotch. His stomach dropped. He couldn't believe he let this happen. It was all his fault. He let you go. He didn't even come with you to the scene. He could've stopped it. He completely derailed your life. You where 24. You had so much more that you could do. “You can visit her now, she's lucid so she should be fine” The team sprang up to go to your room. They carefully entered the room, hoping not to startle you, Although you already looked panicked. They assumed the doctor told you about your condition. Your head perked up when you saw your team coming through the door. Tears still streamed down your face as Hotch rushed over to you. “Hotch-Hotch, im deaf, im not- im not gonna be able to my job i-” You sobbed as he cradled your face into his hands. He knew you knew sign language but he didn't. He looked around as his teams sad faces. Prentiss looked at him. “I- I know sign language” Emily stepped forward next to your bed, and began explaining everything.

“I can do my job Hotch! Just because I cant hear any more doesn't mean im less able than anyone else out there” You snapped, gesturing to the room full of profilers. It had been a hard 6 months. You had recovered perfectly well, you hearing, not as much. You weren't aloud to do field work any more. You were constantly stuck doing paperwork, or in some stuffy police room. An ignorant comment from a police officer on your recent case had caused you to snap. “i know you can” He tried. Since the explosion, you had mastered lip reading, as well as gotten a hearing aid, as it was more convenient. “So why! Why has everyone been baby-ing me for the past months? Im so sick of everyone, even people I don't know, treating me like im unable to do the job Ive been working for my entire life! Im sick of it” You burst out, glad for the soundproof room. “No one is babying you” He returned. You scoffed and raised your eyebrows. “no ones been babying me? Okay. Dont act stupid Hotch. You see the way everyone acts around me. Constantly stepping on eggshells. I may of lost my hearing but I still have my profiling skills. Even you Big bad boss Hotchner has gone soft, something I never thought id see” “I haven't gone soft” He insisted. He had gone soft. Well he had always been soft for you, but now he showed it. “No? So whats all of it for? The driving me home, checking my place everyday, bringing me take out, making me dinner, bringing Jack around more often, Whats that for then?” You threw your arms around angrily. He was gonna say it. He couldn't stop it. “Its because I love you! I recognised you need help, now I finally have an excuse to do everything ive wanted to do for the last year.” He snapped back. He couldn't believe he had just said that. And by the look on your face, you couldn't believe it either. “What?” You whispered, heart race speeding up.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

Text

Fifteen (part 6)

A/N: this part contains season 7 spoilers!!

tw: cursing, regular criminal minds stuff

wordcount: 3.3k

masterlist:

He squatted down to look inside of the box, deciding not to worry about the surprise being ruined. He knows the ending, it’s already spoiled, so why not see what he has in store?

He took a mental note of each item, cataloging them in the extensive library that is his brain. For some of the items he immediately knew what they meant, for others he would have to read. He realized the bottom of the box was dirty, dusty even. When he picked up the debris, he realized they were pieces of dried flower petals that had been crushed to smithereens when he knocked the box over. He held the delicate pieces in his hands, barely even breathing, so he wouldn’t destroy them more than he already had. He sighed and tried to put the petals back together like a puzzle, but it was missing far too many pieces. Pieces that he was responsible for losing. Tears welled up in his eyes and he put the pieces on his bedside table.

He was angry now. In all his grieving since the breakup, he hadn’t been angry yet. He did the rest of the five stages, just in the wrong order. He started out with denial, telling himself it was all a dream. If he could just wake up then you would be right there, arms open, ready to accept him, comfort him, love him. Then came the bargaining, countless nights on your doorstep banging on the door begging you to let him in and just talk. You never answered. Then the depression, which lasted longer than he expected. He was still a shell of a person on most days, just moving through the motions, not feeling much of anything at all. In the few weeks prior he had grown to accept defeat, accept that this was over and done. Acceptance is always the hardest bit, especially for him. Spencer Reid doesn’t lose. But he always seemed to forget that love isn’t a game to be played; you were not a prize to be won. Love is hard work and sweat and tears and yelling and kissing and laughing and comfort. Love isn’t a game.

But then your stupid box came, causing him lose all the progress he had made.

Now, he was finally angry. He was angry at himself more than you, but he was still so angry with you. He knew he had mentally checked out of your relationship before the end, but that was because he just needed a break. Everything had changed so much so fast that he just needed to go sort himself out before jumping back into you. But you wouldn’t give him the time. You didn’t need space, you needed him; and he wouldn’t give himself to you. Neither of you would give the other what they desperately needed, so you ended it. He may have blamed himself for your relationship’s demise but he blamed you for leaving. He hated that you could just walk away from him, just like everyone else did. He hated that you could walk away from your family like that. How could you leave Derek behind? Rossi? Hotch? JJ? Garcia? How could you be so selfish?

“How could you!?” He wailed, as if you were there to hear him. Hot, angry tears ran down his face.

Spencer was seething, pacing wildly up and down in his room, pulling at his hair in a desperate attempt to feel any release. Eventually he talked himself down, but immediately following anger is depression. That damn Kubler-Ross Change curve. That familiar hollow feeling filled up his chest. He was numb again, and immediately regretted all the thoughts he had about you.

He was just hurt, in so many different ways at once and he had no idea what to do with it. Handling his emotions isn’t exactly his strong suit.

More than anything he missed you. The letters only brought back up all the feelings he had worked so hard to repress. He needed you, more than he ever did, so he turned to the one place he could find you.

“Congratulations Spence! You have made it ⅓ of the way through the letters. ⅓ of the way through our relationship. So it only makes sense that this is about our one year anniversary.

We take a time jump on this one. So direct your attention to the green velvet jewelry box and the dried flower. I kept a few flowers from every bouquet you ever got me and dried them, so I could have them forever. Remember how I had so many flowers tied up with string hanging in our bedroom? They were all from you. Throwing flowers away always made me sad, especially when you bought them because you always took such care in choosing them. Every bouquet had a meaning. I never knew about flower symbolism until I met you. This magnolia is from my favorite bouquet you ever got me, the ones for our first anniversary,”

His heart sank. The flower was your favorite, and there it was in shreds on his nightstand. He destroyed it, not on purpose, but he still destroyed it. He ran his hands through his brown hair, cursing himself for ruining yet another thing. Lately, he always seemed to be doing that.

“So let’s start with some context. Everything was going perfectly. The universe was finally on our side. Emily came back from the dead, which was a shocking but very welcome surprise. I needed her, needed my best friend. And she came at just the right time. She was different, but still our Em. JJ was back as a profiler now, which made us all very happy, you in particular. The gang was finally back together and we felt unstoppable, invincible. Hell, we even got questioned by a Senate Committee and still kept our jobs. Things got back to normal, or whatever can be considered ‘normal’ for us. It’s a very loose definition of the word. We had officially been together a year and it was without a doubt the happiest year of my life. We never fought, all our days were filled with work and loving each other. We spent all our time together, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best thing. We got a little codependent. But it worked. We worked.

I’m still sorry for how that day went. You planned it to be perfect, and I messed it up.

The flowers and necklace were the gifts that you planned to give me at your place after we got dinner at that fancy Italian restaurant downtown that I had been dying to eat at. You told me it took a lot to get the reservations, but you managed to snag a table for us, because you called three months in advance. It was the sweetest gesture. I mean that. No guy ever put that much effort into something for me. I was so excited; I went out and bought a dress for the occasion and everything. It was going to be the best night. We were going to hit the first milestone of many. There were only 3. I thought there would be infinite anniversaries for us, Spence, but we only had 3. And I’m sorry I ruined the first one.

Work happened. More specifically, Hotch sent me and Rossi to interview a prisoner at North Branch in Maryland. I originally refused, telling them all about our date. Hotch and Rossi both assured me we would be back in time for the reservations.

“Why me? Why can’t you bring Emily? Or Derek? This is the ONE night I need!” I had complained.

“Your skills are what we need for this one. It’ll be quick Y/N, I promise,” Hotch said. I rolled my eyes, not to be disrespectful but so he knew I wasn’t happy.

“Fine, but if you make me stand up Spencer Reid on our anniversary you’ll be a very sorry man.”

They both just laughed and I was whisked away on the jet to Maryland. The whole way there I was nervous and fidgeting. I barely spoke to Rossi on the flight, and I’m have the biggest mouth of anyone! I just didn’t want to ruin that night. You were so excited. I hate disappointing you. You were so nice about my having to work though. When I told you I had to go, you texted me and told me it was okay, a flight from DC to Baltimore is 34 minutes. We’d barely hit altitude before we had to come down, and that you were so excited to see me. I promised you that I’d make it, I’d even be early.

I think that’s the only promise to you I ever broke.

The guy we interviewed was a real weirdo, like a little weirder than the usual unsubs. He was on Death Row, scheduled to be executed in a week. His thing was killing women and then scalping them to make wigs.

Real nasty.

We got there earlier than expected, around noon. We interviewed him for a while, taking a lot of breaks to breathe. He even gave Rossi the heebie-jeebies and Rossi invented interviewing serial killers. Just as we were about done, around four, something happened. A riot in the courtyard. Of course. They locked down the prison. Thankfully we were not stuck in the room with the psycho, like you were with Hotch that time. They still wouldn’t let us leave. It’s not like we didn’t ask. We did. We did the whole “we’re FBI agents. Don’t make me call the director” thing. The warden just said sorry, no can do, tough shit. So Rossi and I were trapped in a hyper-max that was rioting, and the clock was ticking and ticking and my chances of making this date were fading away.

To say I was pissed was an understatement. Rossi knew I was furious. He was there when Hotch said ‘It’ll be quick Y/N, promise,” and he knows how I bite heads off when I’m mad. He’s a smart man, so he did the smart thing and didn’t talk. I tried to call you, text you, everything, but my stupid phone had no reception in that stupid concrete box.

They let us out at 5, combine the 34 minute flight with commuting to and from the air strips and taking into account 5 pm rush hour traffic? I know you can tell me exactly how long it would’ve taken me to get to the restaurant. But even I knew it was too damn long.

And the traffic really outdid itself that day! I didn’t think a ten minute drive could ever be a half hour long, but it was. As we sat I got more and more antsy and tried calling you. Straight to voicemail. I did that probably 15 times, but nothing. Your phone died. Most people would assume that you charge your phone all the time, but it’s the opposite. The thing rarely is above 30% and I used to remind you to charge it all the time. It was always sort of endearing, just another thing to love about your quirky self. That night it was just infuriating.

When we landed it was already past 6:30. I changed in the bathroom at Quantico and drove as fast as I could to the restaurant. I definitely broke some laws that day.

When I got there I didn’t see you, so I asked the hostess about the reservation. She gave me a sad look and told me you waited forty-five minutes for me. You even ordered my favorite wine for the table. And I missed it.”

Spencer recalled sitting there at the table, fidgeting with his thumbs and barely sitting still. Every time the door swung open and it wasn’t you he lost more and more hope. His phone had died because he was bad at charging it. You were the one to always remind him to plug it in before bed. He couldn’t even call you to see if you were okay, or call Rossi, or Hotch. He couldn’t do anything except sit there and eat the free bread and oil that were on the table. He knew there would be a good reason why you missed the date, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. At 6:45 he gave up and paid for the wine he barely even drank and left, everyone sending him sympathetic looks as he walked out. It was no longer perfect, and that’s all he wanted. One perfect night with you, and you couldn’t even give him that.

“So I drove to your place and knocked on the door. I was so nervous, feeling equal amounts of excitement and dread. I knocked on the door and you opened it. I smiled and went in for the hug and you blocked it. Cue our first fight.

“I’m so sorry love, at the prison they locked us in and we couldn’t leave and then there was traffic and I’m so so sorry,” I said. You just wouldn’t look at me. You just stared at the gift bag on your couch.

“Spencer? Hello? I’m so sorry. I know how much effort you put into today and I–“

“Do you know how embarrassing that is?” You said. You looked upset, brows furrowed and hands waving wildly.

“I sat there for almost an hour alone, the waitress even offered me dessert on the house because I got stood up. I kept telling them you’d be there, but I had to give up. You stood me up on our anniversary Y/N.”

I felt like a kid getting scolded by their favorite teacher.

“I tried to call you,” I mumbled, “There was no service in the prison so when we were on our way back to the jet I tried, but it went straight to voicemail.”

You just groaned and ran your hands through your hair. You had taken off your suit jacket and tie and they were thrown on the couch.

“You shouldn’t have gone! You knew what today meant to me and still went!”

“I tried! I asked Hotch if someone else could do it and he said no! And YOU said it was okay!”

Our voices were loud now, I half expected your neighbor to bang on the door and tell us off.

“Of course I did! I couldn’t tell you not to do your job. The job always comes first! I just wish you told me so I didn’t look like an idiot!”

“‘Job always comes first’” I mocked, you looked at me in a way you never looked at me. It was the look you only used on unsubs. Jaw clenched, eyes fiery, more pissed than I had ever seen you. “I TRIED to tell you! Maybe if you ever charged your damn phone you would’ve gotten my texts! My fourteen phone calls! Maybe you would’ve gotten the texts and calls I had Rossi send because I thought it was my phone that was broken!”

You moved to sit on the couch, me standing in front of you. Tears were stinging my eyes, I’ve always been an angry crier. I softened before talking next.

“Spence, Love, look at me.”

And you did. Your brown eyes looked sad, all the rage and fire behind them was gone.

“I’m sorry, what can I do?”

I sat next to you and put my head on your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of mine. Such a small gesture, but so romantic at the same time.

“I just wanted today to be special,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve called the restaurant or something. I could’ve found a better plan.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry too, Y/N.”

You wrapped me up in a much needed hug and kissed my cheek. We sat like that for a while.

“Well this isn’t how I wanted tonight to go but,” You said and reached behind you.

I sighed, “I didn’t get you anything, we said no gifts.”

You smirked and handed me a bouquet of flowers and a bag, “They’re magnolias.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, and I shoved my face in them to smell.

“Magnolias are considered one of the first flowering plants. Fossil remains show they have been around for 100 million years. They symbolize longevity and perseverance. Men historically gifted women magnolias as an appreciation of their beauty, essentially saying ‘you are worthy of a beautiful magnolia.’ But more recently the idea of a steel magnolia, a strong southern wom—“

I cut you off with a kiss, “I love them. Stop rambling.”

You blushed and motioned for me to open the bag. It held a small, green velvet jewelry box. Inside was a vintage locket, gold with little blue stones and beautiful etching. I gasped when I saw it. I opened it up and it was empty.

“I wanted you to pick what goes in it, Y/N.”

I held it delicately in my hands; the chain was so thin, “It’s perfect.”

You grinned practically ear to ear, those dimples coming out full force. I asked you to clasp it for me and it hung just below the base of my neck.

I wore the locket daily. The gold started to tarnish and chip, but I still wore it. I only took it off to shower and sleep. On one side of the oval I put a picture of you, the one from the fourth of July when I painted the kids’ faces at Rossi’s party. I painted a flag on your cheek. You laughed as the brush tickled your skin. You smiled wide in that picture. I love that picture. It’s still in there. It hurts to look at.

I can’t wear it anymore. I thought long and hard about keeping it. It was a part of me for two years. It kept you close to my heart always, no matter where we were. I thought maybe I could change the picture out, or just leave it in a box to collect dust. Both options feel wrong, so instead I’m giving it back to you, along with the magnolia that has long since dried up. Much like our feelings for each other.

I don’t care what you do with any of these things. I don’t even know what to do with them, with any of this. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, Spence. I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know how to do this without you. You always know. So do with these what you see fit. I trust you.”

Spencer put the paper down and held the box in his hands and opened it. He remembered picking it out and thinking how wonderfully the blue and gold would contrast your skin tone. He remembered clasping it around your neck a thousand times because your fingers just couldn’t seem to do it. He remembered how you used to play with it when you got nervous. He remembered the rows of flowers you would hang on the wall. It just inspired him to keep buying you more and more. He loved those little things about you.

As you promised the picture of him was still inside. He stared at himself with a huge grin and a red, white, and blue cheek. He was so happy. He looked nothing like the man in that picture anymore. His hair was longer and shaggier now and he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that. Smiles like that were reserved for you.

He held the locket in his hands and stared out the window, admiring how the snow blanketed the street.

Then he heard something, a knock at his door.

He jumped up, part of him thought it would be you. Could it be? Has rainy Seattle already been too much for you?

A familiar voice from behind the door spoke, “Hey, it’s me.”

Part 7!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer #reid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #mgg #matthew gray gubler #reid x you

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notmrskennedy · 4 years ago

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(GN!Reader x Spencer Reid)

A/N - I’ve rewritten this thing like six freaking times but oh well - I hope it at least goes over better than the last - please be gentle

Summary - The team meets a very dislikable scientist that Spencer seems to fancy

W/C - 2.8k

Warnings - brief anatomy/bones/etc mentions (our scientist is a forensic anthropologist-ish) & a dash of swearing

Important! - this is the FIRST ending and the alternative ending that you’ll like a lot more will come along in the next day or so