Criminal Minds Fic - Blog Posts

I NEED MORE

At Cross Purposes

Sequel to These Fleeting Moments

Relationships: Hotch & Male BAU Reader, BAU Team & Male Reader Content: Fluff, Alcohol, Angst, Slight non-violent homophobia, Injury, blood, bouts of panic Word Count: 13,313 (The rest of the team wanted time with you, too. Idk how this happened. Just take it and enjoy lol) Summary: Reader and Hotch try to make good on their unspoken agreement to stop shutting out the rest of the team. A night out at the bar should be simple enough, right? Note: "---" in place of reader's name Oh, boy... Things are shifting. I try hard, but there are probably still some spelling mistakes that slipped by. Important: It takes so little time to reblog! It lets me know you really enjoyed and I appreciate it so much! :) I probably will not post the next in this series unless the amount of reblogs, with or without comments, on this are at least equal to the number of likes (though I'd prefer it to be greater). Divider by @cafekitsune

Sometimes it seemed like no matter what they did, they couldn’t help but profile in every situation they found themselves in. At the coffee shop when a woman received five texts in a row and then ordered another coffee. Or when a man at the bus stop kept glancing down the wrong end of the street and pulled at his hood nervously.

Other times, profiling skills took the day off.

The Behavioral Analysis Unit is a team of some the most perceptive, well trained minds around. They had the ability to look at a person and gather an almost scary amount of information about them in mere seconds. They were truly amazing.

They were also some of the densest people on the planet.

Morgan and Prentiss’s cackling could be heard from almost any part of the floor. Normally, you’d tell them to shut it after too long but today you didn’t mind so much. You looked up from the papers on your desk and shook your head at them with a suppressed grin. The pen in your grasp rolled back and forth between your fingers. You were well aware of how bad you had allowed yourself to get recently.

Fortunately, three days ago, your impulsive tongue had taken the plunge for you when you suggested something you normally never would. The barricade you had erected around yourself began to break down after you spent part of the night in Hotch’s office.

The words on the paper blurred together. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand as you tried not to think too hard about what happened that night. The two of you hadn’t talked about it since.

The day afterward, you had greeted each other pleasantly and Hotch had given you a knowing smirk when you both had made a beeline for the coffee machine to pour yourselves a large, black serving. Other than that brief moment, he hadn’t acknowledged or brought it up again. You assumed it was something that would be kept private, contained to that night alone. You both had dearly needed that night but at times, the memories of it would make your gaze grow unfocused or your chest tingle.

Your knee pressed against Hotch’s.

The pen creaked in your grasp.

Him clutching you just as fiercely as you did him.

“Oh, god, you’re such a pig!” Prentiss’s laugh cut through the trance.

You shook your head vigorously and blinked your way back to reality, the air from the vents overhead hitting the back of your neck. You realized you had scribbled several erratic lines across the paper, effectively ruining it. Sighing, you folded it, tossed it into the small bin at your feet, and grabbed a fresh one.

“Hey, ---!” Morgan called.

Abandoning hope at finishing this paper any time soon, you leaned back in your chair and turned to look at the other man.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, already not liking the devilish look he was wearing.

“Okay,” Morgan began, leaning in your direction, “If a girl was talkin' you up all sweet-like and then you buy her a drink, wouldn't you –”

Prentiss cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh, come on! You're clearly setting him up to agree with you!” she shook her head, throwing her hands out to the sides.

“What?” he said innocently, “I'm just asking his opinion!”

“My opinion,” you said with a smirk, “is that you're insufferable.”

Prentiss leaned over and presented her fist. You bumped it with your own as Morgan sputtered in indignation.

“Are you serious?” he looked at you as if you just insulted his mother.

“I agree,” Reid mumbled from his own desk.

“Stay out of this, pretty boy!” Morgan jabbed his finger in Reid's direction, “I'm only asking people that actually go out to places.”

Reid's brow furrowed as he glanced over at the other two before turning back to Morgan.

“I think I'd rather stay home than go out and watch you try to force women into talking to you,” Reid muttered, a sly smirk playing at his lips.

Morgan actually rose from his chair to gape at the group of three that were turning on him. Despite yourself, you laughed along with them.

“Excuse me? I don't force women to do anything! Don't go spreading rumors!” Morgan waved his hands at everyone as if he could physically stop their words from traveling through the air.

“Alright, okay,” you held your own hands up placatingly, “Sure. But if you buy a woman a drink she didn't ask for, that's your choice, man. You’re not indebting her. She doesn't need to talk to you at all if she doesn't want to.”

Prentiss gave a mighty groan, her hands reaching toward the heavens.

“Yes! I knew there was at least one sane man on this team!” she exclaimed, actually standing to come and give you a quick squeeze.

You laughed in surprise as she wrapped her arms around you from behind, nuzzling her cheek against the side of your head.

“What about me?” Reid asked, the beginnings of hurt in his tone, as she released you. She gave another small chuckle and winked at him.

“Well, of course,” she smiled.

“And me?” a voice came from behind.

Everyone turned to see Hotch approaching, his gaze flitting over Prentiss’s hand still lingering on your shoulder. Prentiss rushed back to her desk in the same instant that Morgan sat back down and Reid ducked his head, once again focused on his own work.

You cursed internally, wondering how much he had heard and how irritated he might be that you all had taken an extended break.

He paused near the desks and peered at Prentiss expectantly.

“Well, I – Yeah, of– of course,” she stammered, glancing at the rest of the group for help.

Hotch's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles as he passed by, handing something to Anderson.

“That was reassuring,” he deadpanned, moving past them and back toward his office.

A collective weight lifted from everyone’s shoulders as they realized Hotch wasn’t about to reprimand them about staying on track.

“Hotch, come on. Back me up, here, man!” Morgan called out with a grin, “They’re calling me a dog!”

Hotch gave a little huff of a laugh that had you mirroring his soft smile. He paused for a moment, considering his response before he continued on his path.

“How about you prove them wrong? Tonight.” Hotch said, glancing back as he walked toward the steps.

“What, go out?” Morgan sat up, excitement brewing in his eyes, “All of us?”

Hotch raised his eyebrows with a fleeting smirk.

“It is Friday,” he proposed.

Morgan's face broke into a grin akin to a child promised ice cream for dinner.

“Oh, yes!” he clapped, “Hell yeah, man!”

He laughed as though already having won his honor.

“I better see you all later!” he said, point at each of you in turn, “I heard about a new place we can go light up.”

You hardly looked at Morgan and his excited antics because Hotch caught your eye as he ascended the steps and gave you a little nod that seemed more pointed than not. There it was. The challenge. I’ll go if you will.

You gave him the most minuscule tip of the head before he turned away and returned to his office.

Reid gave a pinched frown. You suspected the only reason he would go was because it was basically a direct order from Hotch. That made two of you.

Prentiss was already bickering with Morgan again, saying something about rules and etiquette.

“You okay?”

You turned toward Reid to see him watching you with concern. You hadn’t realized your new paper was crumpled in your clenched fingers. You were not helping the environment today.

“Uh, yeah,” you said quickly, grabbing a new paper, “I just, uh, kinda don't want to go out, honestly.”

Reid's expression opened up again, his eyes widening, as he leaned toward you to whisper.

“You think we can fake an emergency together? Say we got a flat tire on the way there?” he gave a little grin, “Then we can watch my new DVD, it’s a nature documentary on bioluminescent sea creatures!”

“That sounds like a really good backup plan,” you murmured with a smile.

Both men nodded at each other conspiratorially before turning back to their respective paperwork. You had only been able to fill out around half the page before Morgan caught JJ’s attention as she walked by, headed toward Hotch’s office.

“Tonight, all of us!” he mimed downing a shot and made an exaggerated dance move in his seat.

She laughed at the ridiculous sight.

“Yeah?” she asked, glancing over at you, “Even you?”

Your fingers halted in their writing for a moment, nerves flaring for just a split second as you heard the disbelief in her tone.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you huffed a bit sheepishly, running a hand through your hair.

JJ’s eyes sparkled with delight at your confirmation.

“But you all just went out the other day,” you glanced between everyone in disbelief, “How are you already down to go again?”

Prentiss scoffed at the same time as JJ let out a wry laugh, holding up the stack of paperwork she was taking to Hotch.

“Easy,” Prentiss shook her head in a long-suffering manner.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed as she began to ascend the steps, “Alright, I’ll let Garcia and Rossi know, too.”

Morgan gave her a thumbs up.

As the day waned, you found yourself able to concentrate less and less. The ticking of the clock pummeled against your eardrums. The scratching of your pen grated on your skin.

Finishing the last of your paperwork, you shoved it on top of the rather impressive stack. A sigh heaved from your gut as you leaned back in your chair, stretching your neck and groaning softly when the joint popped.

“Hey,” an unsubtle whisper sounded your way.

You shifted to look at Morgan, his eyes glinting as he tapped his watch.

“Wanna make a bet for later?” he asked.

Saying nothing, you merely quirked an eyebrow at him.

“First one to get a girl’s number, wins,” he proposed.

You let your head fall forward into your hands, an incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned.

Prentiss stood with a shake of the head, jabbing her thumb at the other man.

“You see?” she scoffed, but her gaze held mirth in it all the same.

You nodded sympathetically at her with a smirk playing at your lips.

“What?” Morgan spread his arms innocently.

Reid joined in on the laughter that erupted from the group.

In the office above, a soft chuckle was emitted at the sounds that were coming from the desks in the bullpen.

The drive home was just what you needed to clear your head of any lingering reservations. You had offered Reid a ride, still considering the flat tire plan earnestly. He had laughed when you brought it up, saying it wasn’t too late.

“No, it’s alright,” he had waved the offer away, then gave a sneaky smirk and leaned a little closer, “Besides, I kinda wanna see Morgan crash and burn.”

You stopped at a light and a little laugh came from you at the memory.

Morgan had given everyone the address of a new place that had just opened a couple months ago. No one had been to it yet, so everyone agreed to go together for the first time. Prentiss had claimed if she found out Morgan had frequented the place before, she would immediately call an end to his trial and he could never redeem his honorable name. Morgan had crossed his heart that he hadn’t stepped foot in the place.

You arrived at your home and briefly entertained the idea of simply not going. You could tell them tomorrow that you had fallen asleep early. You shook your head at yourself as you slid the key in the lock and entered, dropping your bag into its spot behind the door.

Hotch would see straight through your lie. And even worse, he would know the reason for it and know that you had immediately failed to keep up your end of the unspoken deal.

Sinking down onto your sofa with a sigh, you let your eyes drift closed for a few minutes. The flat silence pressed against your ears. You shifted, grunting, as the cushions somehow felt harder than when you first bought the damn thing. Thoughts of a much more comfortable sofa floated up in your mind.

Your eyes snapped open and you rushed to go take a shower instead.

The glow of the bluish, purplish light emanated from the open door and cast a colorful stripe onto the pavement outside. Music blared from speakers that were nowhere to be seen. As you approached the building, you pulled out your phone to send Reid a text to see if he was there yet.

Stepping inside and spying the crowd of people laughing and dancing, you were suddenly glad you had chosen your light blue button-up instead of a t-shirt. The dress code here appeared to be smart-casual with a heavier lean toward smart.

Before you had finished typing out the message, you spied two familiar blonde heads of hair at a corner table.

“Hey! Over here!” JJ spotted you, and yelled over the music, waving you over.

She had changed into a loose, silky looking, dark blue button-up of her own.

A smile broke across your face as you watched Garcia whip around in her seat. You hadn’t even made it halfway over yet when she shot up and the rapid click-clack of her heels rang out as she ran toward you.

Her arms wrapped around your torso, and all the oxygen was squeezed from your body for a moment. A squeal of delight hit your ears. The brief shock of being enveloped in a hug rendered you still. The last one had been –

“You’re here! You’re really here!” Garcia chanted.

You finally hugged her back with a laugh that only her specific joy could produce from you. JJ made her way over to where you stood, wrapped in her embrace.

“Yeah, I know,” you said as you released each other, “I can’t believe it either.”

Garcia’s dark, shimmery dress matched her eye makeup perfectly.

“And, oh, gosh, you smell so good,” Garcia muttered, leaning in close to get another sniff.

You leaned away with a slightly embarrassed huff.

“Okay, how much has she had already?” you said to JJ out of the corner of your mouth.

JJ had been watching the exchange with a growing grin, hands resting on her hips.

“Um…” she scratched her head, “I think she’s at four shots now?”

You turned back to Garcia, mouth open. She grabbed your arm and draped it around her shoulders with a slight pout.

“What?” she tried her best to look sober, “It’s the weekend! And you’re here, you’re actually here!”

She shook your arm and bounced on the spot as she elongated the last word. Another laugh rang out from your lips.

“I’m so happy! We can dance and have fun. Ooh, and do more shots,” Garcia began to ramble, “Oh, and I can’t wait ‘til Hotch shows up, too, and you both can be happy again and I’ll get–”

JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting off Garcia’s chatter with a stiff head-shake. Garcia’s eyes went wide as her hand flew to her mouth and she snapped her gaze back to yours. You desperately hoped that you didn’t look as chagrined as you felt.

“I mean – Um, not that you’re not happy now. Maybe you could be happier, but hey, we can all be happier, right –?”

JJ rubbed at her eyes. You tightened your arm around Garcia’s shoulders briefly, bringing her words to a halt.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Uh, how about you get me that famous drink you told me about before?” you switched gears.

Garcia lit up, her smile returning full force.

“Yes,” she nodded, already clacking away toward the bar, “Yes, that I can do.”

JJ shared a fond look with you before you followed her back to the table a few paces away. You slid into a seat adjacent to her, while keeping an eye on Garcia. You hoped she wouldn't topple over in her haste.

“She probably shouldn’t have any more,” you said, a smile pulling at your lips as you watched Garcia gesturing emphatically to the dark-haired woman behind the bar.

“At least not until everyone else shows up,” you amended.

JJ grinned as she grabbed her own glass of wine. It appeared to be untouched as she most likely didn’t want to drink while Garcia was far more intoxicated than her. Now, she took a proper long sip. You wondered how much her job was taking its toll on her before you shooed the thought of work away like a pesky fly.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, her voice rather low and you struggled to catch it over the booming beat of the music.

“Where are they, by the way?” you mused as you turned to glance around the place, “I thought I’d be the last one here, for sure.”

“Uh, I know Spence is on his way. And Emily, too,” JJ said, checking her phone, “Not sure about everyone else though.”

You nodded and glanced over at Garcia again, finding the bartender listening to her with slight astonishment. You wondered how much longer it would take for her to get the aforementioned drink. A slight tickle of nerves sprouted in your lower abdomen as the silence stretched on between the two of you at the table.

You clasped your hands together to prevent them from doing something stupid like fidget or, even worse, shake. The music lulled in between rhythms, only providing an even greater silence.

“So,” you began, knowing you ought to say something, “Seen any… good movies lately?”

JJ peered at you, unblinkingly. Her laughter broke through the wall of ice that had been forming around you and you laughed along with her, leaning the chair so far forward that you were in danger of tipping over.

“What are we, on a first date?” JJ asked, wiping at her eyes.

“Apparently,” you responded, still smiling, and shrugged at yourself, “I guess I’m a little out of practice with… this.”

You gestured to everything as a whole. She sobered as you gave your explanation and nodded understandingly.

“Yeah. You been doing okay?” she asked carefully, delicately swirling her wine glass between her fingers.

You fought down a sigh of resignation. Glancing at your watch, you took note of the record timing it had taken until someone asked you how you were doing.

“So, uh, how screwed do you think I am with that drink she’s bringing?” you nodded in Garcia’s direction, the woman in question now making her way back with a very tall glass of bright violet liquid.

JJ looked to Garcia, then back at you, and you held your breath. She graciously allowed the subject to drop as Garcia set the tall glass in front of you with pride.

“There you go, sir!” she said, clapping as she sat down across from you.

“Thank you,” you eyed the radiant drink with blackberries and sprigs of mint on top, “What’s in it?”

Garcia shook her head and made a zipping motion across her lips.

“No can do, baby doll,” she said, “It’s my secret recipe.”

The music’s bumping beat was all that filled the space for a moment as you peered at her, curiosity piqued.

“Wait, you made this?” you asked, surprised.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded with a smile.

JJ gave a laugh, inching a little closer to get a better look at the drink.

“You didn’t tell me that part,” JJ said.

She turned to JJ slowly, eyebrows raised dramatically like an old film star.

“You didn’t ask,” she spoke in a low tone, “There’s a lot you guys don’t know about me.”

JJ shared a look with you, astonished, and you both let out another chuckle.

“Well, go on! Taste it, taste it!” Garcia chanted, practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

You took a tentative sip, waiting for the burn of the alcohol. When nothing came, you glanced up, brows furrowing.

“Uh,” you gave a bit of a nervous laugh, “It just tastes like berries.”

“Yes!” Garcia’s smile widened in delight and she turned to JJ with her hand up.

Eyes squinting in confusion, JJ high-fived her reflexively.

“Am I supposed to taste any alcohol in this?” you questioned, taking a longer sip.

Still no notable taste of any liquor came across your tongue.

“That’s the secret,” Garcia grinned, swaying ever so slightly.

“Maybe it’s a placebo,” JJ smirked at you, taking another sip of her wine.

“It – It certainly is not!” Garcia snapped her gaze to the other woman.

Sensing the shift in her mood, you took another long gulp before speaking up again.

“So what’s it called?” you inquired.

When Garcia focused on you again, her offense ebbed away. You glanced at JJ who gave you a slight toast with her glass. Someone on the dance floor gave a loud whoop that drew everyone’s attention for a moment.

“Huh?” Garcia turned to you again.

“It’s your drink,” you explain, holding up the glass, “You gotta give it a name.”

Garcia bit her bottom lip as her brows drew together.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she murmured, deep in thought.

You took another pull. You thought perhaps JJ was right after all and there was no alcohol in this whatsoever, until your head suddenly felt a touch lighter.

“How about The Purple Penny…” you uttered, gazing at the drink and then at its creator in slight awe.

Her eyes went wide and her jaw fell open as she gaped at you. For a moment, you thought she was about to yell at you, too. You glanced to JJ apprehensively, who only gave you a tiny shrug.

“Shut up!” Garcia squealed, “I love that!”

Relief coursed through you and you all laughed when she tapped you lightly on each of your shoulders with her straight, outstretched arm, as if knighting you.

“Hey, do we get one of those?” a laugh came from behind you.

You turned to see Prentiss as she approached with Reid, Morgan, and Rossi at her sides, looking like the oddest bunch of security guards ever, all smiling at the scene before them. You tamped down the odd crest of disappointment that rose within you at the absence of the final person of the group.

You stood along with the others to allow them to choose their seats at the table. Morgan hugged Garcia tightly and took the seat beside her, to no one’s surprise. Some of the other patrons nearby glanced at the team, embracing happily as if they hadn’t just seen each other a matter of hours ago, and you wondered what they assumed.

Both Prentiss and Morgan had chosen t-shirts, hers a bold red and his a more subtle burgundy, and they somehow managed to make them look smart and stylish. You glanced down at your own pale blue button-up and briefly wondered if you could have gotten away with a t-shirt of your own. A quick scan of Rossi in his stripey button-up and blazer and Reid in his sweater-vest eased your worries.

Everyone settled, Reid asking Garcia about the bright drink and what gave it the distinct hue. You peeked over your shoulder toward the entrance.

“He’s on his way.”

You jumped, turning back to see Rossi gazing at you rather knowingly. A writhing tendril of flame flared in your gut at the sight and you silently turned back to your drink, missing the worried tilt to Rossi’s mouth.

The bluish light from the dance floor twinkled across the violet liquid in your glass, creating an entrancing kaleidoscope effect. Everyone that just arrived stood to head to the bar for their first round of the night, while JJ accompanied the slightly wobbly Garcia to the bathroom.

“Reid?” Morgan held his hand out questioningly.

“Uh, I’m alright for now, thanks,” Reid nodded, holding up his glass of water, staying firmly planted in his seat.

Morgan shrugged and went to join the others. You turned to look at the door, trying to see past the crowd of people that swayed and jumped with their drinks in hand.

“Hey,” Reid called.

You shifted, meeting his gaze to see his lips twisted in the tiny pout he sometimes made when he was worried.

“You okay?” his gaze flitted down to the table.

You followed it and found that you had shredded the piece of the coaster that poked out from underneath your glass. Brushing your hands off, you nodded, grateful that there was no pity in Reid’s gaze.

“Yeah, man, I’m good,” you said with a quirk of your lips.

“I’m not,” he mumbled, screwing his face up as he looked around skeptically, “What even is this music?!”

You grinned, having had the same thought yourself a bit ago. You glanced up toward the ceiling, trying to find the source of the rumbling bass.

“I don’t think even it knows,” you joked.

Reid’s face shifted to mirror yours and your laughter was able to push past the irritating block that had been building in your throat.

The others returned with their drinks at the same time as JJ and Garcia from the bathroom. JJ and Rossi shared a look when they heard the laughter coming from you and Reid. They all settled back into their seats, enjoying a variety of different drinks. You sipped at your own at little more freely, giggling quietly when Prentiss relayed how Morgan already seemed to be failing at his trial of the night.

Morgan, of course, grew affronted, asking Reid his opinion on the matter. When Reid gave an answer he didn’t like, he turned to Garcia who tried her best to reassure him. The liquid in your glass was almost halfway gone when you saw Rossi’s gaze look behind you with recognition.

“There he is,” Rossi called affectionately, “For once in your life, you’re the last one to arrive.”

You swiveled in your seat to see Hotch approaching with a rather bashful glint in his eye. He had somehow managed to make dressing down look like dressing up. Instead of his usual button-up, tie, and suit ensemble, he wore jeans and a black, short-sleeved polo shirt with a little alligator on it which you assumed meant it was expensive.

“Hey,” he greeted everyone with a smile.

You resisted the sudden urge to stand that briefly overtook you once he reached the table. Morgan stood instead and beckoned Hotch to the bar with him, having drained his glass impossibly quickly and in need of another. Your gaze followed them as they weaved between the ever-moving sea of people.

Reid tapped your shoulder and you looked over to see him watching you expectantly.

“Wait, what?” you asked blankly.

A chuckle rippled through the group and a slight flush rose in your neck, but you smiled despite it.

“I said, how do you think Morgan’s gonna do?” Reid repeated.

A soft breath blew past your lips as you held your hands up.

“Don’t look at me,” you said, “I’m taking no bets on that one.”

Morgan and Hotch returned, drinks in hand, to everyone staring with concealed mirth.

“What?” Morgan squinted his eyes at everyone in turn, sinking onto his chair, “You guys been conspiring against me?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Prentiss mumbled, taking a hearty sip of her beer to avoid speaking further.

Banter broke out almost instantaneously and you watched like it was your own private film showing. Hotch swiped a chair from a nearby vacant table and propped it next to yours, close enough that a wave of his cologne hit you a second after he slid onto it.

He raised his glass of dark stout toward you, expectant. A smile forming at the familiar action, you clinked your glass against his. You met his eyes and immediately dissolved into a fit of laughter along with him.

“What’s so funny?” Reid asked, his attention shifted from telling Garcia about the importance of spacing drinks accordingly.

Hotch gazed at the others, the mirth in his eyes falling away into a mocking version of his serious expression.

“Uh, we’re not at liberty to say,” he shook his head.

You fought away the tide of giddiness and schooled your features into a grave mask.

“Yeah, top secret,” you agreed, putting on an air of importance.

“Oh, okay,” JJ laughed, “Thought this was supposed to be a team bonding experience.”

“I think we’re good,” you said, quirking an eyebrow, “We’re a team and this is an experience.”

“Oh, it’s about to be,” Morgan grinned devilishly, drumming the table, “Now that everyone’s here… we’re doing shots!”

Immediate protests rang out from everyone. Except Garcia who volunteered to go with Morgan and help him bring a round to the table.

“No!” you and JJ exclaimed in unison.

“What?” she pouted at the two of you, “Why not? That’s no fair.”

At seeing how the rest began to chuckle at her dismay, you shifted a little so you could look her in the eye more clearly.

“Yes, it is,” you spread your hands, shooting her an imploring look, “You gotta let the rest of us catch up to you. Everyone knows you’re always four steps ahead, Garcia.”

You winked and clicked your tongue at her.

Your over-the-top antics had the desired effect. Her pout transformed into a smile brighter than the moon. She reached across the table for you and you took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Alright, alright,” Morgan held his hands up between the two of you, as if to physically stop the interaction, “You made your point, handsome. Now back it up, before we gotta throw down.”

The ripple of laughter emanated from the whole group and you felt rather weightless as you joined in.

A while later, when everyone’s first round had disappeared, the table was empty once again as they left to help bring the shots and other drinks back. You and Rossi stayed behind since his glass remained mostly full and you didn’t want a new drink along with the shot. JJ had tossed a look over her shoulder, meeting Rossi’s eyes for a split second before they all braved the tide of dancers again.

A small shiver ran through your torso, a chill creeping in from the open door. Your mind went to the jacket you had left in the car as your hands tapped out a rhythmless beat against the wooden table.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” he asked in a low tone.

“I’m fine,” you answered automatically, the sudden question took you by surprise. You were unable to keep the irritation from seeping into your voice.

“You sure?” he pressed.

“Yeah.”

You falsely blamed the alcohol in your system when you heard how hard the word came out.

You met his gaze, interpreted his pointed expression and realized there was no use. A breath heaved out of your nose as you carefully rotated your nearly empty glass. The condensation that collected on the surface chilled your fingertips. You focused on the sensation as you tried to untangle the web of thoughts and emotions that snarled around your body.

“Sorry. Just – tired of that question,” you glimpsed his knowing nod out of the corner of your eye, “It’s- It’s been hard, but…”

Your gaze drifted to the group at the bar. Prentiss was throwing peanuts at Reid who kept looking around, perplexed, while Hotch and Morgan tried not to laugh. The sight of Hotch smiling again lifted something heavy from your throat.

“It’s getting better,” you finished.

Rossi stayed silent for a moment, gaze following yours.

“I’m sure it is,” he smiled softly.

“This helps,” you breathed.

When you looked at him again, he lifted his hand to the back of your head and ruffled your hair as he smile grew. If anyone else did that to you, you’d probably leave them with at least a sprained finger or two. But when Rossi did it, there was only a glowing warmth that burned away some of the sticky threads that ensnared you.

The large tray that Prentiss placed on the table shattered the cozy moment as you both looked at the impressive array of shots with trepidation.

“Do I even wanna know how much that cost?” Rossi groaned.

Hotch shook his head as he slid back into his seat.

“No, you don’t,” he muttered, reaching behind you to give Rossi a little pat on the back.

You chuckled as Rossi rubbed his face in defeat, clearly regretful about agreeing to pay for the first few rounds. You stilled when Hotch drew his hand back and his fingers briefly brushed across your shoulder blade.

Glancing sideways, you found him peering at everyone pleasantly, clearly unaware of what he inadvertently did. You forced your attention to the group as Morgan and JJ distributed shots to everyone, minus Garcia.

Taking yours, you felt Hotch’s knee bump yours under the table. You gave another sidelong glance, wondering if that was an accident as well. He gave you the quickest glance in return as he picked up his small glass.

“Déjà vu,” his voice rumbled lowly, for your ears alone.

Your mouth quirked into a smirk for a split second.

“Mhmm,” you hummed in agreement.

“Alright!” Morgan called out, holding his glass high.

Everyone lifted their own, Garcia with her water and lime, and gathered all the glasses together in a large, tinkling toast.

You spied Reid already grimacing before he even drank the liquid and you laughed. A chorus of grunts and groans rang out from the others as they downed theirs. You threw yours back with ease. You couldn’t help the swell of satisfaction when Prentiss and JJ stared at you, their faces almost matching expressions of surprise mixed with admiration.

“Okay,” Morgan smiled, reaching over and smacking the top of your arm lightly, “You been holdin’ out on us, Mr. I don’t like bars.”

“He’s not even getting started,” Hotch murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye.

When Morgan looked to Hotch, then back at you expectantly, you kept your face as neutral and innocent as possible. Hotch shook his head slowly, disbelief spreading across his features.

“Don’t do that,” he said, a smile forming, “Don’t make me look crazy.”

You merely shrugged, turning to Reid with an exaggerated look of confusion. He laughed before he sipped at his water, washing the taste of the whiskey away. Garcia was watching you with pure delight dancing in her eyes, much like JJ and Prentiss.

JJ and Rossi glanced at each other before they began to laugh. For many long moments, the smell of the whiskey and the sound of everyone setting each other off in a chain reaction was the only thing in the space between everyone.

“Alright, hot shot,” Morgan said when the laughter subsided, grabbing another couple from the tray, “Let’s go.”

He set the next one in front of you, the clack of the glass against the table ringing out loudly. You glanced around, all their faces betraying how intrigued they really were to watch this development.

“What about everyone else?” you asked.

“Who wants another?” Morgan addressed them.

A cluster of hands gestured negatively, except for Garcia whose hand shot up like she was desperately trying to be called on by a teacher.

“Ooh! Ooh! Come on!” she pleaded.

You locked eyes with JJ, having a quick telepathic conversation.

“Alright,” you agreed, “I guess you’ve waited long enough.”

You grabbed another off the tray and placed it in front of her, but Morgan was staring you down over his glass and your focus was on him. Prentiss’s eyebrows went up, whispering to JJ behind her hand. If it weren’t for the loud bass that drowned out nearly everything, you would have sworn you could hear old cowboy duel music playing as you gazed at Morgan with your glass aloft.

Hotch sharply tapped the table twice and you all threw your shots back. The whiskey was rather decent, but it wasn’t the best you’d ever had.

Slamming your glass back onto the table, you watched Morgan struggle to keep his grimace away. The gasps from JJ and Prentiss only served to bolster your confidence and you couldn’t contain your smirk.

Morgan groaned, shaking his head in frustration as he shot his hand out and snatched Reid’s water to take a sip.

“Hey!” Reid protested, pulling back with a frown when Morgan tried to return it, “Keep it. I need a new one now.”

Garcia cackled and you extended your fist which she bumped with gusto.

“We finally got him on something!” you cheered with her.

Morgan was already trying to call for a rematch while everyone else chimed in, trying to get him to gracefully accept defeat. You heard a familiar giggle at your side and looked to find Hotch positively beaming. Rather lightheaded, you wanted to down the rest of the platter if it would keep that look on his face.

Time began to throw its order to the wind, sometimes racing along before you could even catch a glimpse of it. Other times, it would creep by like it was slogging through mud as thick as clay.

You swore you had been listening to Prentiss talk about the adoption process for cats for nearly fifteen minutes, but when you glanced at your watch it revealed that only five had passed.

The others had gone on another trip back to the bar, all the glasses from the platter now empty. Morgan had done away with a good deal more than the rest of you. You were taking a break, knowing you couldn’t afford to go as wild as you wished.

You sank low in your chair and scrubbed at your face. The air around you shifted as the others returned and took their seats. Peeling your eyes open, you smiled at them as they shuffled by.

In a moment, your smile faded as you realized Hotch wasn’t there.

Breath coming a little quicker, you shot up and had to catch yourself on the edge of the table when the chair tipped forward onto its front legs. Settling back down hard, your gaze scanned the whole area in a flash.

“Where’s Hotch?” you demanded, searching the area over again.

“He went to the bathroom,” JJ said gently, eyeing your tense posture.

“Calm down, man,” Morgan laughed, his words rather thick, “What, you want Garcia to track him for you?”

Over here! Help!

You blinked hard.

Rossi sighed as he glanced at Morgan, then at you and your fingers clenched on the edge of the table.

“Kid, it’s okay –” he tried.

His tone launched you out of your seat, your chest burning with a flush you could feel creeping up your neck.

“Be right back,” you choked out and lurched toward the door, stumbling around people in your haste.

The group grew still and the air was sapped of all the joy that previously permeated it.

“I was… just kidding,” Morgan mumbled, gazing at everyone for reassurance.

Garcia gave his arm a light smack.

“You can be so –! Ugh!”she crossed her arms, staring at him.

No one said anything to refute Garcia’s words. The silence grew stale and uncomfortable as they all took fervent glances toward the door, waiting for you to come back.

When Hotch returned, his face shifted from an expression of ease to concern when he felt the abrupt change in atmosphere. Noting the empty chair next to his, he turned to survey the room. His eyes scanned all the dancing forms rather frantically.

“Where’s ---?” he asked.

The frosty gusts of wind tickled your neck as you leaned against the outside of the building, your top button undone. Small tremors ran through your hands and you blamed it on the cold. Your gaze edged toward the end of the street where your car sat parked. You could get in and just be done with this night.

Your heart seemed intent on jumping out of your throat. You heaved in a breath, the frigid air going in jagged. The shaky exhale left a great cloud in front of your face for an instant before it dissipated. If only expelling feelings were that easy.

The crunch of the gravel underfoot alerted you to the approaching figure, but you didn’t look. Instead you glanced at your watch, surprise mixing in with everything else when you realized they had given you ten minutes before someone finally came to check on you.

“Hey,” Prentiss approached you slowly.

“Hey,” you choked out.

“What’s going on? You okay?”

You turned to see her unhindered smile had been replaced with a look of deep concern. Before you could stop it, a scoff came out, forming another thick little cloud. You hated that you had caused the shift in her mood, in everyone’s mood most likely.

An understanding hum came from the woman at your side as she rubbed her hands over the goosebumps that rose on her arms.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, should I?” she gave a sheepish smirk.

“No, go ahead!” you threw your arms out with an exasperated laugh, “Everyone else is, you might as well.”

You glanced over at her agitatedly, but stilled when you noticed her trying to warm herself.

“I’ve got a jacket in the car if you want it,” you lowered your voice self-consciously.

“He really upset you, didn’t he?” she asked earnestly, skipping over your half-hearted attempt at changing the subject.

Cars whizzed by on the street, their headlights illuminating the pair standing against the wall for brief intervals. You lost count of how many went by before you could speak again.

“It’s fine, I know he’s just kidding,” you mumbled toward your shoes.

“Yeah, well. He can be real sweet and funny, but sometimes…” she shook her head with a little grimace.

You nodded, rubbing at your neck. She let you sit in silence for another minute, shuffling close enough that your arms pressed against each other. She would claim it was for warmth only.

“You can talk to us, you know,” she murmured, “You’re not alone.”

Mortifyingly, a searing sting rose behind your eyes. Your jaw clenched and you didn’t dare look over at her. When she felt you leaning into her more heavily, she smiled at the ground.

The swirling puffs of her breath mingled with yours in the space before you. Cars continued to rush past, too many to count. Finally, you pushed off the wall and gave her a tentative peek.

“Thanks,” you uttered softly, “Let’s go back in, you’re freezing.”

“Hey,” she put a hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks, “I meant what I said.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know… Thank you.”

She must have found your second reply more satisfactory because she smiled and began to pull you back inside at a startling pace.

“Woah! Hey!” you exclaimed, your cold limbs fighting to move fast enough to keep up, “Hey! Prentiss, what are you doing?!”

She let out a jubilant laugh, saying nothing and continuing to drag you onward. Straight onto the dance floor. You tried to dig your heels in, but it was no use.

“Oh, no, no, no! Emily!” you tried in vain to stop your momentum but once she finally came to a halt you were already in the middle of the crowd.

You gaped at her, astounded. She took your hands and began to direct you, her laughter loud enough that you could still hear it over the music. All the surrounding people were gyrating to the sounds and you began to feel stupid just standing there.

Stiffly, you shifted around as you wondered what this form of dance was even supposed to be. Prentiss shook her head at you, her eyes gleaming with fondness. She leaned close to your ear.

“You’re overthinking it!”

Slowly, you simply tried to move in ways that felt comfortable as opposed to looking a certain way. The sight of her dazzling smile and the sound of her laugh cutting through the rhythm was enough to spur you on.

Back at the table, everyone caught sight of the pair of you and gave various exclamations.

“I don’t know what he was worried about,” Reid muttered, “He’s better than me, at least.”

“Still no match for me, though,” Morgan elbowed Reid with a laugh.

“Hey, no fair!” Garcia began to rise from her seat, affronted, “I’ve been wanting to dance with him for – forever!”

JJ pulled her back down gently.

“Easy,” she laughed, “I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“Speaking of turns,” Morgan stood, slightly unsteady, “I’ve been catching the woman looking at me – one too many times.”

He strutted toward the dance floor himself.

Rossi watched as you spun Prentiss around, earning a gleeful laugh from her, and smiled into his beer. He glanced at Hotch, spying his worried look having melted away to leave only a fond smile as he watched the pair of you.

Your chest rose rather harshly when you finished your pseudo routine with Prentiss, and she put her arms around your shoulders as you swayed together to catch your breath.

“Thanks for that,” you said, knowing she’d hear because of how close you were. Her heavy breath and little laugh tickled at your ear.

“Anytime,” she replied.

A rush of gratitude spread through to your fingertips, warming you faster than any alcohol. Still smiling, you spied a man at the bar watching you and Prentiss.

“Uh, don’t look now,” you muttered, “But I think that guy is checking you out.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, “Is he cute?”

A huff burst from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you laughed, “Here.”

You rotated slowly until you had traded places with her and she could look behind you. She gave an approving nod when she finally caught sight of the dark-haired man in the open button-up over a t-shirt that kept shooting looks over.

“Hmm,” she hummed, “Not too bad. But hey, not my priority tonight.”

She fixed her gaze back on you with a smile. You stilled in your swaying and her smile slipped slightly.

“What, did I –” she began, worried.

“You’re a great friend,” you muttered before you could stop yourself and cringe at the sappiness.

Her smile returned, wider than before and her eyes glistened a little.

“Thanks,” she said, “Takes one to know one.”

With Prentiss gone on a bathroom break with JJ and Garcia, you wandered toward the bar. The dancing had left you thirsty for anything that could chase away the dry burn in your throat. You caught sight of Morgan out on the floor as well, with a young woman’s arms around him, and you shook your head with a smile.

Finally reaching the bar, the chaos surrounded you. People crowded around each other, alcohol dulling their manners as they barked their orders at the woman making their drinks. Finding an empty corner, you slotted yourself in and waited patiently.

“What can I get ya?” the woman asked as she spied you, looking rather harried.

“Um, whatever you’re making them is fine,” you motioned toward the group of men off to the left, clamoring and waving their hands.

She nodded, serving something in a tall glass in a flash and sliding it over to you. As you thanked her, you grabbed it to lift it to your lips, but she placed a shot glass filled with a pitch dark liquid next to it.

Perplexed, you looked up to ask her what it was for, but she had already rushed away, her tattooed arms flying as she made more drinks than seemed possible.

Glancing around at the other men, you saw them chugging the drinks but you couldn’t see their shots. Assuming they were supposed to be mixed, you picked up the smaller glass to pour the dark contents in.

“No, no, no!” rushed words came from off to the right.

You turned to see the man that had been watching Prentiss when you were dancing, holding his hand out as if to stop you, with an incredulous smile cracked across his face.

“You’re supposed to drop the whole glass inside,” he mimed releasing the glass from his grasp.

You stared at him blankly. For several moments, the din of the surrounding crowd crashed over you in waves.

“Are you messing with me?” you chuckled as you still held the smaller glass aloft.

The man came closer and nodded with a muted laugh. Wary, you pulled your glass away a little but not enough to make it obvious. The raucous sounds of people enjoying their Friday night dampened a little as your focus was pulled onto him.

“Here,” he held a hand up toward the bartender, “Another one of these, please.”

He pointed at your drink and the woman nodded. Before you could utter a word of protest, another identical drink slid across the bar and the man sidled up next to you.

“Alright, look,” he said, holding up his shot glass, “Watch and learn.”

Sure enough, he let the little glass fall straight down into the larger one and began to gulp down the mingling contents rapidly. He didn’t stop until he drained both glasses simultaneously.

At the table, Rossi noticed the tenseness of Hotch’s shoulders and the hard press of his lips against each other. Leaning over, he peered around him to see you talking to another man at the bar.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Hotch remained motionless, his gaze trained on you as you observed the other man downing a drink.

“Aaron,” Rossi called.

Hotch blinked, and finally turned back to meet Rossi’s perplexed gaze. When he didn’t say anything more, Hotch gave a little head-shake and a shrug.

“That guy’s getting kinda close to his drink,” he murmured.

“What, you think he’s gonna get roofied?” Rossi deadpanned.

“Dave,” Hotch shot him a look, clearly unimpressed, “That’s not funny.”

Rossi shook his head, gesturing in your direction.

“Look,” he nodded emphatically at you, “He’s right there. He’s alright.”

Hotch turned back toward you, watching rather intently.

“The better question is, are you?” Rossi threw at him.

Hotch peered at him, his features hardened as he looked away, taking a purposefully long sip of water.

“Wow,” you said.

When you glanced around to find no one laughing at the man, you assumed he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

“Alright,” you shrugged and copied his instructions, the shot glass clinking onto the bottom of the other. You chugged the drink until it was gone, the blend of the liquids rather sugary and smooth. Finishing it, you exhaled heavily and shared a triumphant look.

“I’m Javi, by the way.”

You shook his outstretched hand and introduced yourself.

“Thanks,” you shook your empty glass, creating a tinkling, “Kept me from looking stupid.”

“Any other drinks you need help with?” he leaned his elbow against the bar with a smirk.

You paused and thought for a moment.

“Well… how would I know?” you asked earnestly.

Laughter jumped from deep in his chest, his eyes crinkling, clearly not having expected your response.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t. Wanna pick one at random?” he lifted his eyebrows.

It was your turn to laugh, the aftertaste of the drink was sweet on your tongue.

He pointed at the large array of options listed on the menu above the bar.

“Take your pick, my treat.”

“What?” you shook your head, “No, no, thanks, but I couldn’t.”

He tapped the bar as he shook his own glass enticingly.

“Come on,” he smiled, “Look, I’m gonna hit bathroom real quick. When I get back, you need to have a choice!”

Stunned, you watched him saunter away toward the back of the building. Through the buzz of the drink, you felt a wash of disbelief come over you. Making a friend at the bar tonight was not something you had on your itinerary.

You asked the woman for a small water while you perused the menu and waited for Javi to return, not knowing how much more alcohol would be in the next drink.

Morgan appeared at your side and his hand clapped your back, the force rather stronger than usual, leading to some of the water sloshing out of your cup. You gave a sidelong glare of annoyance as you shook your hand off, reaching for the nearest pile of napkins.

“How drunk are ya, handsome?” Morgan laughed.

“What?” you fired back, affronted, “You just spilled my drink.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “But I meant your, uh, your new buddy.”

He slung his arm around your shoulder, giving you a whiff that only solidified your suspicion that he was far drunker than you, and then pointed toward Javi who was typing something out on his phone near the bathroom.

“The bet was to get a girl’s number,” Morgan chuckled.

Irritation flooded your veins as you wiped the outside of your glass as well as your hand. You didn’t grace his comment with a response. Morgan studied the man silently for a moment, leaning on you heavily. You replayed the night in your mind in double speed, recalling the number of times Morgan had gone back to the bar for another drink as you tried to get an estimate of how wasted he was.

“I mean…” Morgan muttered, pursing his lips in thought,“He is kinda pretty. Maybe he’s… a little light in the loafers, if you know what I mean.”

His carefree laugh rang out, the sound piercing your ears uncomfortably.

“I’ll give you half a point for that!”

You wrenched out of his reach and shot him a hard, backward glance.

“Nice.” your tone was flat.

“Come on, man, I – I’m kidding!” Morgan pleaded, the stupid grin never leaving his face, “I know you like the ladies.”

Hotch approached slowly from behind Morgan and caught your eye. He must have been watching the interaction from afar and seen the unamused look that grew on your face. He put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder and beckoned him over to the table where he had been sitting with Rossi. Surprisingly, Morgan went willingly and you stalked away before anyone else could swoop in to ask you what happened.

Pushing into the bathroom, you were blessed to find it empty, briefly wondering where Javi had gone. Your fingers went numb at the thought of him, Morgan’s comment ringing in your ears.

On a whim, you locked the main door. If anyone came, you’d unlock it immediately but the spiky tingling in your chest made you desperate for a moment of solitude with the certainty that no one would walk in.

Turning on the tap full blast, you cupped your hands underneath the cold stream and splashed the water onto your face. You avoided your reflection, knowing that seeing yourself would only make things worse at the moment.

You let your eyes close and tried to ground yourself. Your breath was coming too quick.

In, out, in, out.

In-out, in-out, in-out.

Your fingers clenched around the sink. Cold. Wet.

In out.

The loud rush of the tap counteracted the ringing in your ears.

In out.

You screwed your nose up. Discarded beer. Smelly.

In, out.

Your eyes opened. Your fingers were white with the force of your grip. The bright tiles of the floor were shiny and new, no one had the chance to scuff and crack them yet.

In. Out. In. Out.

Your heart no longer felt like it was in danger of bursting and you heaved a great sigh of relief, feeling rather lightheaded. It felt safe to look in the mirror. You were surprised to see a rather normal looking man staring back at you. You never would have guessed he had just been talking himself down from some kind of breakdown.

A knock on the door made you jump and you nearly slammed your shoulder into a towel dispenser.

“Yeah, sorry!” you called as you turned the tap off and reached over to unlock the door. You quickly moved out of the way to allow whoever was on the other side a wide berth. Ten long seconds passed and the door remained closed.

Slowly, you shuffled toward it, still wary and under the impression that it would swing open at any moment. Gripping the cold handle, you pulled it open gradually.

An unsurprised breath left your lips. Hotch was waiting patiently on the other side.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice was mercifully steady.

“You want to go outside for a minute?”

A man pushed roughly past Hotch and through the door, nearly slamming it into your face in the process.

“Yeah,” you repeated dryly, “Probably a good idea.”

Hotch led the way toward the back door and a wave of gratitude rushed forth, replacing the odd franticness, as you realized he was taking you away from the prying eyes of the team. Peering around as you stepped through, you briefly wondered if the two of you were allowed to use this door.

The shift was instant. It was like stepping through a portal to another world. The bumping music faded, the darkness enveloped you, and the wafting aroma of alcohol faded away. There was nothing but the blessedly cool night, the glowing stars above, the chilled bricks of the building at your back, and Hotch at your side.

He said nothing and looked at the sky, always knowing when you needed time. Your skin felt like it should be emitting a soft glow with how warm it was. You let your eyes close as the breeze ruffled your hair, letting out a deep breath.

“Thanks,” you finally muttered, finding it odd that you didn’t have to raise your voice anymore, “I… I’m alright.”

“Whatever he said, he didn’t mean it. He’s just drunk,” Hotch said, eyes trailing across the stars that shone overhead.

“He doesn’t need to be drunk,” you responded almost bitterly, “He says those things all the time.”

“What things?” Hotch asked, now a touch alarmed, peering at you searchingly.

When you didn’t respond right away, he fixed his gaze back onto the stars. The brisk wind picked up again and you caught a lingering note of his cologne.

“Uh, nothing really,” you muttered, hand dragging through your hair, “I think I just need to… stop drinking for the night. I’m getting all… irritated.”

A self conscious huff passed through your nose.

“You’re nowhere near drunk,” Hotch stated, “I’ve seen firsthand how much you can handle.”

You whipped your head around to mockingly glare at him but a jolt ran through you at the fact that he acknowledged that night again, however indirectly.

“You been monitoring my drinks, Agent Hotchner?” you narrowed your eyes, but allowed your smirk to grow.

His laugh was rich and full, blanketing the little space between you and providing a shield from the frigid air.

“Busted,” he muttered, deepening his voice humourously.

Silence stretched out for a few minutes, the chilly night doing wonders for your hot skin. Suddenly, the fact that you needed it at all came crashing down on the ease you had settled into.

“So stupid,” you spat bitterly.

“What?” Hotch asked, brows drawing together, startled.

Going out to have drinks shouldn’t feel like fighting a battle with enemies that looked identical to your friends. Normal people didn’t need regular time-outs just to have a successful outing. You were a federal agent, for god’s sake. You crossed your arms, fingers clenching around your biceps.

“Just… all of it,” you mumbled.

Hotch peered at you, studying your expression and body language. He must have agreed because he said nothing, merely leaning his head back against the wall. You watched your breath cloud in front of your face. The dim light of the moon peeked out from behind an actual cloud.

“Have you been asked if you’re alright yet?” you broke the silence, turning to send him a wry look.

He snorted softly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“Yeah. Dave and JJ,” he nodded.

“I got you beat,” you huffed, “I’ve got everyone except Morgan.”

The absurdity of the competition had you both giggling. You clutched at your chest. This was the only kind of breathless you wanted to be.

It was getting better with the others, but even if you spoke about it, they simply wouldn't understand what you were feeling the same way he did. As you settled into quiet again, your ears pricked up at a steady sound. You blinked and focused on it, discovering with a start that it was his breathing.

Leaning your head back against the cool bricks, your eyes closed as you tried to match your own to his. His presence at your side was solid and steadying. He might have noticed what you were doing because you heard a sudden stutter in his breath before it evened out again.

“You know, I think they might have a little bet of their own going,” you murmured, your head heavy against the wall.

“Who?” Hotch sounded interested.

“Rossi and JJ,” you said.

Hotch turned fully toward you at that, his expression rapt.

“I’ve seen them… giving each other these looks,” you shook your head, “They think I can’t see them.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s about us,” you said softly, apprehensive about how he’d respond.

He was quiet for a moment, only the muted beat of the music inside filling the silence.

“Who do you think’s winning?” Hotch quipped, his gaze glinting.

A gentle chuckle came from you at that, producing little puffs of breath in the air.

“I have no idea,” you admitted, “But… we’re definitely tipping the scales in someone’s favor right now.”

His smile broke out fully now, a true laugh ringing out and you joined in. Your head fell into your hand and your shoulder bumped into his.

Both men stilled as they regained their composure, but neither pulled away from the other afterward. Soft warmth emanated from the point of contact where his shoulder leaned into yours. The contrast of it to the night air was pleasant.

The cloud in front of the moon shifted and you both were bathed in dim, silvery light. The fact that he was standing outside with you, forgoing making the most of his limited time off to help you, had a tide of emotion rising within. You swallowed with difficulty, and the sudden urge to embrace him again came over you like the moonlight.

Hazarding a glance, you saw he was looking to the sky with an air of content and you pushed the urge away, unwilling to disturb that peace. You settled for leaning into him a little closer, your arms touching. When he did nothing to move away, the ease inside you returned.

He was alright.

You were alright.

“We should probably get back in there,” Hotch finally spoke quietly, glancing at his watch, “Before they start sweeping the place for us.”

“Yeah,” your brows furrow in thought, “I think I still owe Garcia a dance.”

Hotch gave a low chuckle, his dimple appearing as he smiled at the thought.

“Good luck with that.”

Hotch went in first, allowing you a couple extra minutes to gather your resolve. When you finally pushed back inside, the music that you danced to minutes before now seemed to ring rather hollow.

Another deep breath, and you began to make your way back toward the table. A group of women cut in front of you, nearly screeching with laughter and almost stumbling over each other. The sight made you laugh reflexively and you were a little less nervous when you continued.

“Oh, hey, there you are,” a voice came, and you turned to see Javi standing from a seat at a small table, “Thought maybe I scared you off or something.”

“Oh, no, I was just, um…” you pointed over your shoulder at the back exit and trailed off, unaware of how to explain without sounding insane.

You shook yourself, switching gears.

“Uh, are you here alone?” you asked, contemplating inviting him to join the group.

He seemed nice enough, and maybe you could try and steer the conversation in the right direction for Prentiss to get to talk to him one on one.

“Yeah,” his smile grew, “You?”

“I’m with some friends,” you said as you both started toward the bar again.

“Oh, cool,” he said, a spark glinting in his gaze, “So that woman, she’s – she’s just your friend?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, nodding.

You were definitely going to try to set them up, as a thank you to Prentiss.

“Alright,” he smiled, then shot a finger gun at you, “I’m gonna go get us two new drinks. I’ll try to find a doozy for you.”

A snort came from your nose as you watched him approach the bar, disappearing into the throng of people that crowded around it. You weaved around groups, heading back in the direction of the table.

A presence appeared at your side and Morgan’s liquor-heavy grip landed on your shoulders. If you had one less drink in your system, you would’ve made the connection much quicker. His boisterous cackle rang out, unaware of his fingers tightening and twisting too roughly as he jostled you playfully.

Hot pain flared across your right shoulder in a sear as quick as a match falling into gasoline. A yelp was ripped from your throat as you shrank and twisted away from his vice-like clutches. Even in his state, Morgan tore his hands away in shock after hearing your cry of pain.

But the damage was already done. Clutching at your shoulder, the slow, hot gush spread under your fingers. Looking down, you heaved a shaky breath at the deep red stain that was steadily tainting your shirt.

“Woah! Dude – I – What – I’m sorry, man, how –” Morgan fumbled for words, bleary eyes wide as he gawked.

“My shirt…” you croaked, unable to tear your eyes away from the trail seeping down your front.

Prentiss passed by and caught sight of you both, changing course to meet you, but her relaxed expression shifted into horror when she spied you trembling and transfixed on your torso.

“Oh, my god!” she scurried to your side, trying to assess the severity of the wound, “What happened?”

“I – I barely touched him,” Morgan held his hands out.

Prentiss shot him a stunned look, her eyes scanning the ground for broken glass or anything that could’ve caused you to bleed so much.

“Hang on,” she told you, disappearing for a moment.

Your breath stuttered, the music dulling as a roar grew in your ears. You vaguely registered the sound of shocked gasps and mutterings from people nearby as they began to notice you. Prentiss rushed back into your space, prying your hand away and pressing a cloth into your shoulder.

You winced at the movement, feeling like your fingers took some of your skin with them.

“Sorry,” she said sympathetically, “Come on, can you walk?”

Your feet stumbled along as she gently guided you back toward the table while hissing back and forth with Morgan about what happened.

“My… my shirt, Emily,” your voice came out in a disoriented mumble.

“What?” she questioned, eyes wide in bewilderment.

The chorus of exclamations and gasps snapped your unfocused gaze up to the table of your teammates.

Hotch shot up from his seat, at your side in an instant. Garcia let out a series of bewildered sounds, grasping at JJ who gaped at you silently. Reid stood as well, approaching to take stock of your injury. Rossi stared at you, wide eyed, before sharing a tense glance with Hotch.

You were dimly aware of everyone speaking, some of it probably directed at you but you couldn’t get your mouth to form words as you gazed at them.

Ignore it. Keep pushing. Keep pushing.

“He’s in shock,” Reid’s voice drifted by.

Hands carefully maneuvered you into a chair. A familiar cologne hit your nose as someone leaned in, prying your fingers away and pulling your collar open briefly.

“I told you it needed stitches,” Hotch’s voice came.

His tone could easily be interpreted as anger or annoyance, but a distant corner of your mind knew he was really worried.

“I didn’t do anything – I just grabbed him, man,” Morgan’s lilted speech was close to your ear.

“Sit down, Morgan,” Hotch spoke measuredly, and the rank scent of alcohol-heavy breath vanished.

You were able to turn to see Hotch putting himself between you and Morgan. Reid held a hand on his shoulder as he mumbled attempts to distract him.

“What the hell’s the matted – the matter with you, Hotch? Huh?,” Morgan nearly shouted, clearly beyond reasoning, “He does somethin’ stupid but what – no, no big Hotch lecture? You’re his bodyguard now?”

J-Just go!

No! I’m not leaving!

“Let’s not cause a scene in the middle of the bar,” Hotch’s even tone carried out, “If you want to yell at me, please do it outside.”

“I…” your voice was inaudible above everyone else’s.

You fumbled with your top button, trying to undo it with one hand unsuccessfully.

Just as quick as Morgan’s anger had flared, it vanished as he snorted and slung his arm around the other man, hanging off Hotch’s shoulder.

“Freakin’ Hotch, man,” he snickered, “You’re so serious…”

“Who’s taking him home?” Hotch looked to the others, the thin line of his mouth was the only indicator of his true feelings.

“I got it,” Rossi said.

“Thanks, Dave,” Hotch mumbled.

“Hey,” Garcia’s teary voice came from the side, “You didn’t have to do this. We can dance another time.”

You glanced at her, trying to blink her into focus and clear away that worried look on her face.

“---?” JJ called.

“Mhmm,” you hummed over the odd wheezing that met your ears.

She exchanged a few worried whispers with Prentiss.

“Oh, hey! Where’s your f – Oh, shit!”

Blinking, you dragged your gaze over to spot Javi, two drinks in hand as he approached, his eyes wide as they took in your state.

“Ohhhh,” Morgan slung his arm around Reid, failing to whisper to him, “Here we go.”

“Come on,” Hotch’s fingers curled under your elbow, “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

You stood hesitantly as Hotch and Prentiss kept hold of your arms, knowing you should say something to Javi who was trying to understand what had happened in the time he had been gone.

As you were marched through the front door and the frigid night air hit your skin, the shock cleared your head somewhat and you briefly marveled at the fact that none of the staff did anything about the situation.

About halfway to where everyone’s cars were, you were struck with how bizarre the bunch of you must look. You being surrounded by most of the team like they were your secret service agents and Morgan interchangeably hanging off some of them.

“Wait up!” a yell halted the procession, “Hey!”

Javi bounded out of the building, jogging up to the group, slightly breathless and staring at them with bewilderment.

“Woah, lot of friends,” he muttered with a crooked smile.

Your lips twitched upward at the coincidence of his expression as he surveyed the unusual group, clearly wondering how it came form. You looked at Prentiss, trying frantically to think of what to say to ensure he could see her again since he clearly liked her a good deal.

“Yes?” Hotch asked, impatient.

“Listen, um,” Javi rubbed at the back of his head, glancing at the others briefly as he shifted from foot to foot, “I’m no doctor but, uh, here.”

He reached out and pressed a slip of paper into your free hand.

“Why don’t you call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing?” he smiled hopefully.

All the urgency that thrummed through the group dissipated for an instant as they stared at him, stunned, you possibly the hardest out of all of them. Blood that you couldn’t spare rose to your face.

“He’s needs an actual doctor right now,” Hotch’s flat voice cut through the moment.

Javi looked at him, his easygoing air waning as he took half a step back.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, of course,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely, glancing back and forth between you and Hotch’s severe expression, “Feel better.”

He turned and began making his way back to the building. Morgan let out a cackle like a madman.

“I knew it! I knew he was a fruit, man!”

“Morgan,” Reid admonished, his brows drawing together in disbelief.

Garcia and JJ both gave little groans and Rossi shook his head silently.

“Dude…” you muttered, embarrassment flooding you, knowing Javi could still hear him.

Hotch’s gaze ran over you assessingly, and he peered at Morgan with a blooming comprehension that had you dropping your gaze back to the ground underfoot.

The trek resumed, everyone rather silent as the atmosphere shifted uncomfortably. Hotch stopped in front of his car, leaving you with Prentiss as he went to turn it on and move things from the passenger seat.

“How’s the bleeding?” she asked quietly, peeking under the saturated cloth.

You shrugged. A hiss escaped your lips. Not a good idea. Your mind was still rather blank at the revelation you just experienced. You wondered how in the hell you had a job that required profiling people as the small slip of paper burned a hole in your pocket.

JJ and Garcia passed by, giving you affectionate pats on your uninjured shoulder, bidding everyone goodbye.

“Come over tomorrow,” Garcia whispered to you, her gaze concerned.

“We’ll see,” you murmured, “Bye, guys.”

As they departed in JJ’s car, Rossi went to input Morgan’s address into his navigation system. Reid stayed with the man himself, basically becoming a Morgan-rack for him to drape himself over to avoid falling.

“Prentiss,” Morgan blurted, hissing the “s” sound, “So? Did I – Did I win? I prove I’m not a dog, huh?”

Several cars passed by, whipping the frosty air at everyone in strong gusts. You didn’t want to look at him directly at the moment. He wasn’t in his right mind, you were well aware. But it still felt like you had received an insult indirectly.

Prentiss turned toward him, disappointment coloring her face.

“Yeah,” she nodded with a wry smile, “But you did prove you’re a bit of an ass when you’re drunk.”

“Oh, wow,” he hung off Reid to lean closer, “I’m gonna remember that!”

“You know, considering the amount of alcohol in your system, you probably won’t even remember saying that,” Reid said matter-of-factly.

“I’ll remember!” Morgan grunted.

“Unfortunately, you won’t remember any of the hurtful things you said, either,” Reid mumbled, gaze flitting over to you and Prentiss.

“Wha – Hurtful?” Morgan’s brow furrowed, hand coming up to ruffle Reid’s hair, “I just tease ya, pretty boy.”

Reid stared at the other man for a long moment, his silence speaking volumes.

“Alright, come on,” Rossi gripped the arm that wasn’t draped around Reid and hauled him toward the car.

Hotch appeared at your side, urgency dancing in his gaze again.

“Let’s go,” he said, nodding at Prentiss and you, then calling over to the others, “Dave? Let me know when you get him home, please?”

“Yeah,” Rossi grunted in acknowledgment, heaving the inebriated man into the car.

Reid gave you a little wave before turning toward his own car.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly at Prentiss as she helped you into Hotch’s passenger seat, a surprisingly difficult task with one hand occupied.

She clipped the seat belt for you.

“Yeah,” she returned the smile, “See you soon.”

The deep rumble of the tires rolling against the asphalt helped ease the racing thoughts in your head. Hotch had yet to speak in the time you had been on the road. You wondered what the inside of his mind was like at the moment.

“Well… at least we went out this time,” you muttered drolly, slightly hoarse.

And somehow ended up alone together again.

“Yeah,” Hotch tilted his head in a little nod, “Not thrilled about how the night ended up, but it was a good start.”

A sudden, hot sting built up behind your eyes. Hotch had actually been having a good time and you had to go and ruin it. Your heart slammed painfully against your chest and your free hand clenched tight around the seat belt at your hips.

“Sorry,” your voice cracked, shame settling heavily upon you and forcing your head down.

Hotch turned to you, momentarily alarmed as he took in your ducked head and slumped posture.

“I’m not upset with you,” he explained quickly.

That got your attention. You looked up to see him glance back at you, not a trace of deception written anywhere on his face.

“I just wish… the night had gone better, is all,” he continued, then sighed, “I wish Morgan hadn’t drank so much.”

A tiny huff was pulled from you at this. That was something you could agree on. You swallowed thickly, tightening your fingers around your damp shoulder.

“Yeah.”

After several embarrassingly necessary stitches and many instances of inability to explain how the injury occurred other than stating it was an accident, you were back in the warm comfort of Hotch’s car. Your neck and shoulder itched from the tape that secured the bandage under your ruined shirt.

Your finger ran back and forth over the door handle, the shine of the white lights stabbing into your eyes for a moment.

“He was kind of right,” you said under your breath as Hotch turned out of the hospital parking lot.

“What’s that?” Hotch asked.

“Morgan,” you explained, “I was reckless… Back then. That day.”

You swallowed thickly before adding on to your thought.

“But you didn’t lecture me about it.”

The silence extended for long enough that you finally had to risk a glance at him, afraid he would start lecturing you right in that very moment. His jaw was tight, his mouth in a hard line, and he gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary to take the next turn.

“You don’t need a lecture,” he spoke in an undertone.

You turned your attention back to the road, allowing the sound of passing cars to count off the minutes.

“So,” Hotch’s voice jumped up in pitch, attempting to sound casual, “Are you gonna call him?”

The meaning of his words took a little longer to sink in to your scattered, inebriated brain but when they did, the view of the dark street outside swam and blurred. A harsh roaring began to thunder in your ears as you realized what he was really asking you, as you excavated the question under the question.

“What?” the word punched past your lips.

The memory of his stern, disapproving look at Javi swam in your mind. You scrubbed your palms against your thighs as a rather shaky chuckle emerged from your chest.

“W-Why would I call him?”

Hotch’s fingers tightened just a touch on the steering wheel, his head bobbing in a stiff nod.

“Yeah,” Hotch replied quickly and gave the barest chuckle of his own, the sound almost strangled, “Right.”

Sometimes profiling skills took the day off.

Dangerously In Love

Summary: The long awaited return of your boyfriend makes you realize how in love you are with him. Dangerously in love with him.

Word Count: 776

Warnings: heavy make-out, second person pov, gender neutral reader, inspired by Beyonce's Dangerously In Love

A/N: I'm not sure how much of it makes sense or if it's even like logical. Literally just cooked this up 45 mins ago because i kept thinking about the 'dangerously in love' trend that was on tiktok like a month ago. But hope you enjoy nonetheless.

To say that Y/n was obsessed with Spencer Reid would be an understatement.

Well not obsessed in the bad way. But in the way where you’re so irrevocably in love with him that any chance you get you’re all over him loving him in the best way possible. 

Spencer had just recently gotten home from a 2 week long case in Nevada. The serial killer in question kept real close to his pattern and didn’t devolve until his main stressor had died. But in the end they had caught him and convicted him with no error. 

So when it was 10 pm on a Thursday and Hotch was kind enough to give them that Friday to rest Spencer had never been more delighted to drag his feet through his shared apartment to find you sitting on the couch watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy he’s never felt more at home. 

He toed off his shoes to then place them on the shoe rack that came with you when you moved in. He then took off his messenger bag and placed it on the ground before rounding the couch to sit next to you. 

Now, you weren’t a profiler by any means. Just a simple bookstore owner, but you’ve always had a knack for knowing when your space wasn’t just yours alone. 

So when you heard the front door unlock and open, you knew that your baby was home. You listened to him settle himself back into your home before listening to him approach you.

Spencer looked amazing. He didn’t think so, but having missed him for 2 weeks you couldn’t stop yourself from drinking him in. Said man only meant to bend down and give you a few kisses, a greeting of sorts. But you, you didn’t want to let him go.

So when Spencer bent down from his tall height to kiss your lips, you were quick to pull him into you, causing him to collapse onto the couch to devour him. 

Spencer knew you missed him, the late night phone calls and the constant text messages were enough evidence to prove it. But he must have miscalculated how much you actually missed him. 

Your body had been angled on the couch so one leg was extended and the other was bent in half, but with the added person, your body had shifted enough to accommodate him to where he was pulled onto lap. Spencer was quick enough to catch most of himself from completely falling on top of you. 

But you couldn’t care less. 

Your lips continued to devour Spencer’s. Pulling his lips (mainly the bottom one) into your mouth again and again. Pulling oxygen in with every pull. Making it so he couldn’t pull away at any moment. 

Spencer, who had missed you just as much, kissed back with just as much force. His hand that wasn’t responsible for holding his body weight had cupped the back of your neck to angle your neck up a bit more so he could deepen the kiss. 

His tongue began to dance with yours as you slid your body down the couch so you could make the man you love place his body weight on top of you. He followed suit, leaning down enough to have his chest against yours. Spencer placed his free hand against your waist, grabbing the soft flesh there. 

You began making a move of turning over so you could look down at the masterpiece before you. Your hands, which had been wrapped around his neck and playing ruthlessly with his beautiful hair, dragged themselves down his chest. Feeling everything about him that you’ve missed. 

Spencer was the one to pull back enough to grab a deeper breath of air. His brown eyes glossed over with love. His lips were swollen and glossy. You continued to kiss him, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his Adam's apple, the sides of his neck, his collar bones.

His scent alone was driving you mad, the feeling of him just within your hold was enough to satisfy you. 

Seeing his face was enough to make your heart sing. To love him, to hold him, to feel him, to breathe him in, to live him. 

You were dangerously in love with him. Obsessed with him. Enraptured with him. 

You sat back on your calves. Looking and the beauty beneath you. His tousled hair, his swollen and glossy lips, his lidded eyes. 

Your Spencer, looking at you like you were a deity. 

Only for him to see the same look within your eyes. 

“I’m so in love with you.” 

So very dangerously in love.

Would you ever roleplay Spencer?

Role play how? Like head canons or something different. Because I'm totally up to making head canons

Not Of The Imagination

Summary: Spencer claims he has a girlfriend. Derek does not believe him at all.

Word Count: 1,614

Warnings: fluff, a bit OOC Derek

Derek Morgan is a ladies man. He knows how to talk to women, charm them into a flustered mess and get a number from them with ease. His charm is a weapon, something he knows how to use better than his gun. 

Spencer Reid is not a ladies man. He rambles people away and becomes flustered so easily that people think his skin tone is red. 

Derek Morgan is a charmer. Spencer Reid is the charmed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday afternoon. Everyone was ready to go home and spend the weekend doing whatever they wanted. Weekend plans were the topic of conversation at the moment with the bullpen attendees.

“So pretty boy, where are you doing this weekend?” Morgan asked. A teasing smile playing on his lips. Derek Morgan wasn’t a bully. He was anything but a bully, however, he was a brother. And brothers are known to tease their little siblings to no end. And Spencer was lucky enough to become Derek’s little brother. 

 “There’s this Korean Film festival happening throughout the next week. All foods, music and movies will be played in korean. Which is exciting since my girlfriend had wanted to brush up on her language skills and I thought this would be a great surprise for her.” Spencer missed the look of surprise on his friends faces when the word ‘girlfriend’ had left his mouth. Especially Morgan’s face. 

“Girlfriend?” Emily questioned softly. She was still a bit new to the team, but this was the first time a girlfriend was mentioned, especially attached to Spencer’s name.

“Wait what! Spencer, you have a girlfriend?” Derek questioned in disbelief. It’s not like he didn’t think that Spencer couldn’t get a girlfriend, but it’s still a complete shock that the shy, can’t talk to college kids his age, stuttering mess actually has a girlfriend. 

“Yeah, Her name’s Y/n. We’ve actually been dating for about 3 years now.” The goofy grin that broke out onto Spencer’s face was convincing enough for the women. But apparently not enough for Derek. 

“Really?” Spencer could hear the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He knew that the proclaimed ladies man, didn’t believe that he ‘scored’. But Spencer really didn’t care if he believed him or not. 

He still had you at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered to him. 

“Okay, what’s her last name?” Morgan asked.

“L/n.” Spencer answered without hesitation. He had a feeling that some of the asked questions are going to be the same that his mother asked him when he confessed that he was seeing someone. 

Derek nodded, trying to look convinced. “What’s her-” 

Before he even had the chance to finish his next question Spencer beat him to it. “She’s working as a barista at the moment because she’s going back to school to be a teacher. We met when we were 20 and started dating at 22. She’s kind and patient. She also really loves me and we are talking about moving in together after she graduates with her masters.” 

The small group was stunned at the flood of information. Emily, JJ and Penelope all began gushing about his girlfriend, happy that their resident genius had found someone that is making him happy. 

Derek, happy for his brother, still didn’t believe him. The girl sounded perfect for him, too perfect. Almost like he had conjured her up. 

“Do you have a picture of her?” Penelope was the first to ask. 

“No, sadly. All the pictures we have together are taken on her phone and they don’t transfer well when she sends them to me.” Spencer explained. The women deflated a bit hearing his explanation. 

“How convenient.” Morgan muttered. Penelope was the one who heard him. She snapped her head in his direction, fixing him with a glare. Derek only held his hands up in mock surrender. 

The group slowly began to disperse when paperwork began to pile up on each of their respective desks. The new shift of conversation began to fizzle out. Everyone now began to focus on the important work ahead of them before they could go home at 6. 

Except for Derek Morgan. The new revelation, still fresh in his brain. The Spencer Reid, the boy genius that stutters when given a simple compliment, has a girlfriend.

He has to see it to believe it at that point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek didn’t get his confirmation until 3 months later. When he had almost forgotten that Spencer had claimed he had a girlfriend. 

A beautiful h/c had walked into the bullpen with a visitor badge clipped to her turtleneck sweater. She had a drink carrier in on hand and a plastic bag in the other. 

She stood near the glass doors, clearly looking for someone. A small frown appeared on her lips as the object of her delivery seemed to not be in the room. 

Morgan saw the contemplation on her face whether she was on the right floor or not. She took a step back towards the double glass doors, before Derek got up to give a helping hand. 

He calmly approached the pretty woman before calling out to her, “Excuse me miss, is there something you need help with.” 

The h/c turned at his voice, Derek could see slight recognition within her eyes. A small smile graced her lips before she spoke, “You must be Derek Morgan.” 

The named man furrowed his eyebrows. He had never met this woman before in his life, even if he had Derek would’ve remembered her face. 

The woman saw the confusion on his face as well as the slight guard he put up after she said his name. The h/c’s realization kicked in and her panic set in. “Oh no, I’m not dangerous. My boyfriend had told me a lot about you. Even showed me a photo of you. Well not of you but a group picture and pointed you out. And I’ve always been good at remembering faces. So when I saw you I just knew that you were Derek Morgan. Again I’m not dangerous.” 

Her lengthy explanation reminded him of the resident genius that was approaching the two of them. 

Spencer was very confused when he saw Derek Morgan speaking with his girlfriend of 3 years. He was even more confused when he saw her panicked expression and the slight wave of her hands as she tried to explain something. 

Spencer pulled open the glass doors to the bullpen and turned towards the interesting conversation that was happening. He didn’t get much of it, just the last bit where Y/n said ‘I’m not dangerous’. 

“What’s going on here?” The brunette male asked. He looked between his favorite people waiting for one of them to answer. 

“Oh, hello love. I was just coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. I had a half day at work for class but then my professor canceled class last minute because he wasn’t feeling well.” Y/n had gestured to the food in her arms at the mention of lunch. 

She had swung by their favorite Thai place. Having not been there for a few weeks because of Spencer’s busy schedule and Y/n’s guilt for eating it without him. Spencer smiled widely at the offer of food and his lover for his break. 

“I’d love to honey. We can eat at my desk if you’d like.” Spencer offered. Grabbing the drinks from her to make the load easier to carry. 

Derek watched the exchange between them. Only putting everything together when you call Spencer ‘love’. 

“Holy shit she’s real.” He had meant to say it in his head. But the statement slipped out, causing the two of you to look at him with confusion. 

“You didn’t think she was real?” Spencer asked.

“Well, no. Just that she sounded really perfect for you so I had a hard time believing it at first. But then I met her and she literally reminded me of you.” Derek tried to explain but it didn’t sound all too convincing. 

Spencer and Y/n looked at each other before laughing. Y/n had just met Derek and he thought she was someone that Spencer made up. Their giggles made Derek feel stupid.

And that’s something he doesn’t feel often (not counting the times Spencer made him feel stupid). 

Y/n had calmed down first before holding out her free hand for Derek to shake, “Hi, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m going back to school to be a teacher but currently I’m working as a barista. I’ve been told I’m patient and kind. Spencer and I have been dating since we were 22 but we met when we were 20.” 

Y/n then spared a glance at Spencer before asking, “Same intro you gave him right?” 

Spencer nodded with a smile before kissing the crown of her head, “Yep same one you gave to my mom.” 

Derek looked between the young couple content on the evidence presented to him. Derek took Y/n’s hand and shook it giving a greeting of his own, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n. I’m Derek Morgan and I’ve become Spencer’s big brother. So don’t you go breaking his heart.” 

The toothy smile was answer enough, but Y/n couldn’t resist her response, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Spencer had excused the two of them to go eat lunch at his desk. Spencer was happy that his lives were starting to blend together.

He’s especially glad that his favorite people were able to meet each other once and for all. Even though one of them thought the other was a figment of his imagination.

Overshare

Summary: Y/n and Spencer spend the night together after a long case. Next day JJ and Penelope hear all about it. 

Word Count: 2,147

Warning: implied smut, teasing Spencer, Y/n being a chronic over sharer, smooth y/n at the end, heavily inspired by Taylor Swift Wildest Dreams

Heavy breathing and moaning filled the air. The couple had been reunited for 4 hours. 

First hour was Spencer watching Y/n work about within her bookstore. The store Dreamy Books was closing for the night at 11 o’clock. After Spencer had gotten back to the BAU and filled out as much paperwork as he could before he left to meet up with his girlfriend. 

He called her and was told to go home and that she’ll meet him there if he wanted, only for him to refuse and show up at the store anyways. Y/n greeted him anyways and continued to close down for the night, saying goodbye to her employees and reshelving any stray books. 

The next hour they went to get dinner and head home, Thai being one of the only things that sounded good. And once they reached home, the two of them had set up to eat. Spence went and showered and Y/n set up their plates. 

They spent another hour eating and catching up on TV or what they had been doing. Y/n was doing most of the talking since Spencer didn’t want to talk about his case, claiming that it was a bad one. 

She mainly talked about business and having a friend's date with Penny and Jen. Spencer listened intently, happy to be home with his Y/n. His gaze was loving and longing, the unsub’s victims had looked like Y/n. It didn’t help that he could only call her at night, so he would worry all day. Spencer’s smart mind loved to play tricks on him, making him think that all the women were her. 

Y/n had reached across the table, grabbed his hand. She saw the far away look in his eyes like he was lost within his head. “Honey? Are you there?” 

Her voice was sweet, loving, something that he was all too familiar with. He squeezed her hand, coming back to the present. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Spencer responded, glad to have his rock with him. He tried to sound convincing but it didn’t work. Y/n had gotten up and walked towards him. 

Spencer followed her with his eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, making him hum in approval. He leaned into her touch, allowing Y/n to pull him into her. 

His sitting height makes him tall enough to have his head within her breast. Spence inhaled her scent, missing the sweet smell of her perfume. She knew that the case seemed to hit a little close to home. 

“As long as you’re out there taking down the bad guys, I’ll be safe.” Y/n reassured. Knowing particularly hard cases left him spaced. Away from reality, away from her. 

She tilted his head up, meeting each other’s gaze. Spencer’s gaze held love but now they held lust. Being away from his love made him want her even more. 

Y/n’s eyes mimicked his own. She leaned down and kissed him, the first was sweet. The next was also sweet but it had a need. A need that was not ignored. 

Spencer grabbed onto her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He was not going to let go, not for a while. 

The last hour was spent within the bed. Both of them satisfying the need that had built.

Y/n and Spencer had laid together wrapped up in each other's arms. Spencer had his head resting on Y/n’s chest, softly kissing against her skin. 

“Careful now, you might get me going again.” The tease was clear as day within Y/n’s voice. They both knew that they were too tired to have another round. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Spencer replied, his kisses didn’t cease, but they stayed away from her sweet spots. He was tired, he wanted to just fall asleep within her arms for as long as possible. 

Y/n kissed his head and continued to get comfy, she was glad that her Spencer is home. Glad that her bed is warm with his body in it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light shone through, the sage curtains still being drawn open from the day before. Spencer shifted in his position, not welcoming the sunlight. He reached towards Y/n, wanting to cuddle some more before the both of them had to start their day. 

As his hand patted slightly warm sheets he rose his head and watched as Y/n applied light make up in the bathroom connected within the master bedroom. 

“Hey baby. I tried to be as quiet as possible, hope I didn’t wake you.” 

“No, it was the sun. Where are you going?” Spencer asked, raising slightly. 

“Brunch with Jen and Penny. They were able to spare an hour or two before heading to work and Sophie is opening the store so I can be a little late.” Y/n rubbed her lips together after applying a gloss. She turned towards Spencer and smiled.

He smiled in return, taking in her pretty appearance. Y/n had kneeled on the bed and kissed Spencer three times before leaning back and grabbing her phone on the bedside table. 

“I’ll give you a text when I get there and when I head to the store.” Y/n offered, knowing how paranoid Spence can be. A lot of the victims that he’s seen have been plucked off the streets, he didn’t want that to be her. 

“Okay, I’ll text you when I get into the BAU.” Spencer replied. As much as he wanted Y/n safe, she wanted him equally as safe.

Y/n grinned at his response and grabbed her purse. “Okay, I love you and I’ll see you tonight.” 

“I love you more.” 

Y/n blew him a kiss and walked out, Spencer had caught it as he watched her go. He listened to the front door shut and then laid himself back down. 

Spence checked the time before closing his eyes. He didn’t need to be in the BAU until noon and it was only 10. He closed his eyes wanting to get a little more sleep before having to get up and start his day officially. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had walked into the small cafe and saw the two blondes at a table waiting for her arrival. Y/n thought she was late seeing that the two were already there.

“Oh, am I late?” Y/n asked, her voice sounding upset. 

“No you're not late, we had just got here. Penelope was first I think.” JJ said. Having known Y/n the longest, the woman’s distaste for being late is something she’s always had. 

“Oh good.” Y/n’s charming smile returned as she placed her purse on her chair and went to give each woman a hug. Penelope’s happy smile reflected her own as the two embraced. A squeeze and a sway was how they hugged. The two giggly at their reunion.

Y/n switched to JJ, careful of the baby bump that’s forming. The two shared a happy hug before the h/c moved to her seat across from them. 

The girls chatted happily about many things from Penelope’s knitting projects to JJ’s baby and how her and Will are doing as well as Penelope and Kevin. 

With the conversation of relationships in the air, both women turned toward Y/n and began the questions. 

“So you mentioned that you started seeing someone a while back,” JJ leaded, making Y/n aware of what they wanted to ask. “What’s he like? Where’d you meet?” 

“Is he good?”

“He’s kind and smart. We actually met at my store, he wanted to try something new, something he’s never read before. So I gave him a fantasy.” Y/n recounted a smile on her face when she remembered Spencer walking in looking lost and flustered. “He finished it in a day. I was so surprised.” 

The FBI agents listened intently to Y/n as she talked. Her happy smile made the two women smile in return. As JJ listened she remembered Spencer reading something during a small break. It was almost like he was drawn to it. 

“Awe, that's so cute. It sounds like a romance book.” Penelope cooed, but her previous question was unanswered and she was not going to give up that easily. “But is he good?” 

Y/n had intentionally ignored Penny. She didn’t want to share too much, but her persistence was annoying and admiral. Y/n flushed a little before she searched for an explanation that could satisfy Penny’s curiosity. 

“Well I’d say he’s real good.” Y/n grinned giddily, still slightly flushed. “We had spent the night together. His hands were in my hair, his clothes were in my room.” 

“No way!” Penelope squealed. It sounded just like a romance novel and Penelope wanted to get her hands on it ASAP. 

JJ listened intently, always wanting to know the latest gossip. She listened as Y/n described her boyfriend, disregarding the sexual details. Even though JJ isn’t a trained profiler, she can put things together. 

And what she found was equivalent to gold. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ and Penelope arrived at the BAU around the same time. Both of them discussed what had occurred at brunch, especially since the topic of their discussion had walked right into the bullpen just as they did. 

Spencer walked into the BAU looking at his phone. A smile playing onto his lips, he was texting a reply before putting his phone away. He looked up as he walked towards his desk. He felt the eyes on him only to see JJ and Penelope looking at him. 

His eyebrows frowned before he kept moving. Spencer became comfortable within his desk ready to do a work day. However, before he could even get his coffee JJ and Penelope had swarmed his desk. This caught the attention of Emily and Derek who were actually working. 

“Hey Penelope, didn’t you have fun at brunch today?” JJ asked, she was baiting him, seeing if he’ll put everything together himself. 

“You know what JJ I really did. Especially since we got to meet up with Y/n after so long.” Penelope said, playing along. 

It seemed to be working, Spencer’s head popped up at the mention of his girlfriend's name. He didn’t want to be so obvious but his mind worked faster than most, maybe even too fast. 

“Me too. And isn’t it great that the guy she’s seeing is so kind.” JJ continued, noticing Spencer’s change in posture. 

“She said ‘kind and smart’. That they met at her book store, isn’t that romantic.” Penelope recounted. 

Spencer now knew. He knew that the names of Jen and Penny were nicknames (like he suspected) and those nicknames were for Jennifer aka JJ and Penelope. His co-workers. His girlfriend’s best friend’s were his co-workers and he never knew. 

“Plus she said that he was good.” JJ teased. Spencer flushed, Y/n had a bit of a problem with oversharing. Not that he personally minded but when it came to others he preferred she’d at least keep some information to herself. 

“Yeah, they spent the night together too.” Penelope continued to tease. She saw his flustered appearance. Derek and Emily had caught on already. They watched with amusement as JJ and Penelope teased the kid genius.

This was way better than paperwork. 

“What did she say exactly?” Emily asked. She wanted to see how far this will go before he cracked. 

“‘His hands were in her hair. His clothes were in her room’.” JJ recited. Spencer’s flustered expression had grown even more. At this moment, he wanted to have never left Y/n’s apartment. That the two of them spent the day together instead of doing anything else. 

“What else did she say?” Derek prodded, amusement clear on his face. 

Before anything else could be revealed about himself Spencer spoke, “What was discussed between JJ, Penelope and my girlfriend should be private. So let’s leave it at that.” 

His tone was snippy, wanting to stop everything. The group laughed at his response, knowing he meant no harm. JJ and Penelope gave him a small squeeze of the shoulder and uttered an apology for the teasing. 

Spence waved them off before pulling out his phone and texting the topic of his teasing.

‘I love you so much but do you always talk about our private life with your friends?’ After he hit send, a reply came within 3 minutes. 

‘Sorry my love :( ’ Before he could reply another text was sent.

‘But at least everyone knows you’re my handsome man ;) ’

Spencer grinned and sighed lovingly at his girlfriend’s message, making the teasing almost worth it. His phone buzzed again and in came one more text, one that left him smiling for the rest of the day.

‘You’re something I’ll relieve constantly, like a wildest dream.

Creativity

Summary: Y/n is a photographer and Spencer is a great model.

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: fluff, kisses, probably false statistics, giggly spence at the end.

November 4th. 

That was the deadline of when Y/n’s assignment was due. 

That date was one week away and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. The whole class was given three weeks to complete the assignment and Y/n was running out of time. 

She’s an aspiring photographer.

Several of her works have been published in magazines and have won many contests. She even has a website dedicated to her photos as well as other young photographers wanting to pursue their passions. 

However, most of her clients don’t want an amatrue to take any of their photos, hence the course. Even though her boyfriend, Spence, has rattled off statics about not needing classes to become a photographer; it still made her feel better: more official

But now, her photography course is requiring her to submit new artwork instead of some of her old pieces. The professor said he ‘wanted to put their learning to use and catch something they’ve never thought of before.’ 

Y/n hated it. She was hitting deadend after deadend. Everything she’s shot is within her comfort zone, not new. 

With a loud groan Y/n threw her head back on the couch she was perched on. Spencer only rounded the end the moment she was looking up at their light tan ceiling. 

“Still can’t find anything?” Spencer asked. His tone knowing the answer, but wanting to be caring still. 

“Not a thing.” Y/n replied, enunciating every word in the sentence. Spencer looked at her with a sympathetic look. Knowing the frustration not being able to achieve something. 

He thought about the requirements of the assignment, having told him once she first got it. Spence wanted to help, he really did, but it was the first time he’s drawn a blank. 

“I have no clue what to do. All the photos I’ve taken are like the ones I’ve taken before.” Y/n raised her head and looked at her boyfriend of a year. “Nothing new, nothing that’s caught my eye.” 

“You know statically, most photographers set up their master photos. All of them have been staged and made to look candid. A lot of the photographs that I’ve studied since you’ve started your classes I’ve noticed that a lot of the items seemed to be perfectly placed. Just like it was made to be a photoshoot of some sort. While a lot of your works are within the moment, scenery or candid of people.” Spencer rambled. Y/n watched him intently as he talked, never liking to cut him off once he started, “So I believe that your professor is asking you to do something of the sort, to make a piece that you have to stage. I would suggest using someone that you are comfortable with, which will trigger a higher dopamine output as well as a higher serotonin that allows cognitive flexibility and an increase in mood.” 

Y/n looked at Spence. A sparkle within her eye that Spencer knew to be trouble. 

“Comfortable, staged and someone I know.” Y/n summarized, Spencer nodded along enthusiastically, always touched when someone listened to him all the way through. 

“Yep.” 

“Well then, pretty boy, I just found my client.” Y/n said, her eyes sparking with, what Spence can only describe as creativity. And lust. 

The nickname alone should’ve told him that he wasn’t going to like this idea nor was he going to be the most comfortable with it. However, when Y/n had jumped up from her seat and started to set up her equipment with a huge smile on her face, Spence couldn’t really say no. 

Y/n had placed one of their kitchen chairs in the living room (after she moved everything out of the way). Claiming that it was perfect. Her lights and camera were setup to where he supposed was his place in all of this. 

He watched with a little nervousness as he stood in a white button down and some black pants. He was demanded asked to change from his comfortable warm pajamas, into this more serious ‘photo worthy’ outfit. 

“Okay now, I need you to sit in the chair and I’ll be right back.” Y/n commanded, her voice left no place to argue.

So Spencer sat down. Patting his legs while he waited for the final piece of this photoshoot.

About 2 minutes had gone by before Y/n walked out, red lipstick painted on her lips. As well as a tub in her hand. If he looked close enough, he could see kiss marks on her hands, some more faint and one very vibrant. 

Spencer studied the way Y/n walked up to him. Almost like she was trying to seduce in a way. As she got closer, Spence could see a smirk playing on her lips. 

“What are you-” Before the genius could actually ask his question, Y/n had kissed him. 

His brain short circuited. His IQ is now at 60. 

It took a second before he kissed back, before it could get more heated Y/n pulled back. She studied the lipstick print on her boyfriend, liking how well it was placed. 

Spencer’s face had flushed, he stared at her surprised, trying to understand what’s happening. 

Before he could ask Y/n started talking, “The assignment is to do something new. To try and incorporate all of the lessons we’ve learned up into now. As you’ve said all of my past works were either scenery or candid photos. Something that has just happened or there for anyone to see. What I’m doing here is different. This is a photoshoot, not candid. You are normally sophisticated and well cleaned, however at this moment your unshaven and floppy hair. As well as dressed in something more date-casual.” 

Spencer tried computing everything that was said, only to realize what she meant. His flush grew a little as Y/n looked at him for a silent ask, him nodding his answer. 

She started to unbutton the top four buttons of his shirt. Spence started to grow even redder as Y/n started to kiss all over his neck, face and chest. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, all this attention and kisses making him hot.

But one thing is that he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither of them could. Y/n’s kisses varied in shape and size, trying hard to control the smiles on her face. Spencer giggled and flushed until she stopped. 

Y/n looked at the lipstick marks with a proud smile and a flush of her own. Giddy to take the pictures. 

“Okay hold still.” Y/n commanded, trying to capture him flush and giddy. 

Trying to catch her Spencer, the goof ball that’s in love with her, in a living memory.

Criminal Minds Taglist

All -> @superlegend216 @hiireadstuff @leftmooncollector @formula1-motogpfan @shadow-tumbler

Spencer Reid -> @mggismybabydaddy

i was thinking of a good story where it's "the reader and Spencer's wedding they are having a good time and Penelope wants to congratulate them but can't find them, she walks around and finally spots reader she is resting against the wall of a cleaning closet, they talk for a bit and she leaves, when Penelope leaves spencer comes from out of readers dress, and says that that was a close one"

Wedding Bliss | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summery: The post-wedding bliss hits differently after the ceremony, and Spencer and you intend to make the most of it.

Warning/s: just tooth rotting fluff, allusions to smut that happened, wedding, marriage, Penelope's crying, short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes, and just all of the love

Author's note: this is just too freaking cute, I just changed the part where Penelope and the reader are walking around, hope that's okay.

You knew that you would remember this day for the rest of your life and all of the feelings that this day had brought you.

The feeling of you walking down the rose filled aisle with bouquet in your hands as the back of your long dress was trailing behind you slowly. The feeling of the rose petals of your bouquet against your fingers. The look on Spencer's face as you got closer and closer to him standing with Morgan by his side. The lone tear that rolled down his face once he saw you. The smiles on Emily's and JJ's faces. The proud look that Rossi was wearing. The little smile on Aaron's face as he waited in the middle of the aisle to get Spencer and you married to each other. Penelope's pink handkerchief with which she wiped her tears away.

Once you finally reached Spencer, you turned around to give your bouquet to Jack before you turned back around only to see Spencer holding his hand out for you to take. You took it without any hesitation.

Aaron's speech and Spencer's and yours vows were exchanged, the rings were placed and before you knew it you were kissing the love of your life, your soulmate, the one that you married.

The ceremony after the wedding was just perfect. Everyone was very excited and had so much fun. The cake was cut, and the bouquet was thrown, and after the first dance between Spencer and you, the two of you disappeared once you noticed that everyone was dancing, too.

Penelope was looking everywhere for the two of you as she wanted to congratulate Spencer and you one more time. However, as much as she looked around, she didn't see you anywhere.

Thankfully, she saw Derek with a glass of champagne in his hand, talking to Hotch and laughing with him. So she decided to quickly come over and as soon as she did, Derek noticed her.

"Hey, baby girl," he turned to her and smiled, "What's up?"

"Have you seen Mr. and/or Mrs. Reid anywhere?" Penelope asked him as she looked around for you. "I looked everywhere for them, but I didn't find them."

"I think I saw them sneaking around behind the reception so I think that you probably-", Derek talked, but Penelope quickly interrupted him.

"Thank you so much, hot chocolate, bye!" She said before she ran off to look for you, not even looking over her shoulder at Derek.

"-shouldn't look for them." Derek finished with a smirk as he lookedat Aaron. "Well... they're busted I tell you what..."

Penelope walked around until she finally reached her destination. She stood there and looked around for you once more before she called out your name. The call of your name was followed by the rustling and extremely quick and quiet whispers. So quiet, she almost missed them.

"Y/N?" she asked as she found herself standing right in front of you. You were leaned against the white cleaning closet, and you seemed to be a little put of breath.

"Oh, hi, Penelope!" you exclaimed, trying to desperately cover the fact that you were out of breath and flushed.

You then noticed that she was probably going to ask you more questions about the fact that your cheeks were burning red and you were out of breath, so you took a deep breath and asked her if she needed anything. A desperate attempt to get her to change the topic.

"Yes!" Penelope smiled at you, "Yes, I did. I just wanted to say "congratulations" once more to Mr. and Mrs. Reid."

"Awww, Pen," you spoke softly, feeling like you're going to cry. "I love you so much."

"I love you to, sweet cheeks," she smiled at you before she suddenly turned serious, standing up straighter. "Now, I know why you are here."

You panicked.

"Y-You do?" you asked her, slowly.

"Yes, I do," she continued, "to get some peace and quiet from the guests and the whole ceremony."

"I-I am!" you felt like you were washed by the wave of relief that went straight through you at what she said. "I just need some peace, yes."

"I knew it!" she pointed her finger at you jokingly before she frowned her eyebrows as she looked around. "But where is Spencer?"

"Oh, he just went to the bathroom." you quickly came up with a lie as you felt yourself get flushed again.

"Oh," Penelope paused before she continued, "Well, I guess I’m going to congratulate him again a bit later than. I'll leave you to it."

You felt yourself freeze once you saw her going in for a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you. You were a little stiff as you hugged her, but luckily, she didn't even notice.

And with that and a small smile, she walked away.

Once she walked away far enough, you tapped the back of your long dress. "She's gone."

Lifting the back of your dress up, Spencer got up from underneath your dress. You continued to lean against the wall of the cleaning closet as you watched his also flushed cheeks and his hair that was now even messier than it was before.

"Thank God she didn't suspect anything." Spencer said as he ran his hand through his hair, catching his breath.

"Yeah..." you sighed, "... thank God."

"Now," Spencer said as he walked over to you before slowly lowering down on the ground. Right at the spot where he was before Penelope looked for you, "I hope that you didn't think that we are done here."

"I-I... am..." you stuttered as you watched his eyes filled with lust, but also love, as you watched him watch you.

"Lift your dress back up, love."

Send me Spencer Reid requests I SWEAR!! That man is so fineee 😫

Criminal Minds Masterlist

✭ - smut

♡ - fluff

➳ - angst

۵ - hurt/comfort

☆ - headcanons

°

Spencer Reid

“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. Yes, I’m a genius.”

Call It What You Want - You lost your reputation, but you gained something so much better. [➳♡]

Wedding Bliss - The post-wedding bliss hits differently after the ceremony, and Spencer and you intend to make the most of it. [♡✭]

Call It What You Want | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (singer!reader)

Summary: You lost your reputation, but you gained something so much better.

Warning/s: angst, fluff later on, hostage situation, online bullying, hate comments, stalking, reader has a stalker, famous reader, mentions of guns and knives (light use too), marriage, pregnancy, about babies and birth, in this the song is referred to as Y/N's song (that's not true of course), pet names (pretty boy, gorgeous, love...), also skipped a few parts of the song (sorry)

Author's note: So reader basically entered her Reputation era, but with a happy ending. That's it.

Y/N - your name

Y/L/N - your last name

My castle crumbled overnight

I brought a knife to a gunfight

They took the crown, but it's alright

All the liars are calling me one

Nobody's heard from me for months

I'm doing better than I ever was

The cold breeze of the night in the middle of the giant city as you walked perhaps wasn't doing doing you any favors at all. The coat that you wore wasn't really doing its job. It was supposed to keep you warm during the nights out like this one, but it was anything but. You felt yourself crossing your arms in hopes to pull your coat tighter to yourself so you could gain some warmth, but sadly it wasn't working.

With a disappointed, quiet sigh you swang the bag you had in front of yourself hunting for your keys as you walked along the secured parking lot. You passed a whole lot of cars as you continued to trash through your bad, but not one of those cars was yours.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached your car, the sound of your keychain juggling as you tried to get a hold of the key properly.

The whole time you were walking over to your car you felt an overwhelming sensation of the feeling that something, or rather someone, was following your every step. Panic was drowning you as you tried to get into your car as fast as you possibly could.

However, once you finally managed to put the key in due to your shaking hands, you felt a hand covering your mouth. The last thing you heard was your own terrified scream before you drifted into unconsciousness.

°

The coldness of the uncomfortable chair send a million of shivers down your spine. Your head was pounding so much that it started to be unbearable. At that moment you tried to bring your palm onto the side of your head, but you couldn't move your hands. At that moment you noticed the tight rope with which you were tied up in a chair.

You felt a sense of panic wash over you as you pulled against the ropes, but it was no use. It wasn't working like you hoped it would.

Suddenly, though, you heard a sound that you were sure would haunt you forever if you ever got out of there. The laugh of the person that took you hostage.

"Don't worry, my love," The vile man smiled at you. "Now you can finally be mine forever."

It sickened you.

The way he approached you, the way he slowly reached out to you to place his hand on your cheek as he talked to you. You felt like you could throw up at the sight of it alone.

"How- how did you..." your voice trembled as you spoke, trying to hold your ground, but to no use. "Why did you do this?"

"I've been watching you for a while, gorgeous," He said, rubbing circles against your cheek. "You are simply gorgeous, I just had to have a pretty thing like you."

You were terrified because at that moment you realized that it was over. You were never getting out of this. Your stalker would make your life a living hell just because of the way you looked and the fact that you did what you loved since you were a child.

He slowly let go of your cheek as he stepped back, not once breaking the eye contact with you. You couldn't help but let one tear slide down your cheek. It was over for you.

And just as you began to drown in your own sorrows, the door of the basement in which he held you were broken down.

"FBI!" Someone yelled out, the flash of the lights that filled the room were too bright, you couldn't see the FBI agents that entered. "Don't move!"

The guns were held up, surrounding your stalker who was, thankfully, weaponless.

Your head was hurting you even worse than it did before because of the flashing lights, but you had never felt a bigger sense of relief washing over you than at the moment when they forcefully entered and you felt someone moving to you.

"Are you okay, miss?" You turned your head slowly, in fear that your head was going to ache even more. The last thing that you wanted was to faint now.

"Y-Yes," You barely whispered to the man who was untying you as fast as he possibly could. "Thank you."

"Reid!" You heard another man shout, his voice ringing with authority. "Get her our of here now."

Perhaps you were still frozen from the shock, but you didn't know exactly how you suddenly got outside. You were sat down as the paramedics checked over you. Your head was still spinning and everything was hurting you, but it could've been worse.

At that moment, Spencer stood aside watching over you silently. He couldn't help himself. He simply couldn't help but to admire you as the paramedics did their job.

"What's up with you, pretty boy?" Derek came over to him, his voice hinting that he was really for teasing. "You have a crush on our singer, huh?"

"W-What? No, of course not." Spencer felt himself flush and Derek stared to laugh at the genius.

"Really?" Morgan mockingly put his hand on his chest to express that he didn't believe anything that came out of Spencer's mouth. "Because, if I'm being honest, pretty boy, your staring kind of gave it away."

Spencer was growing more red as the seconds passed. He kept quiet up until Derek stopped laughing and looked at him.

"You should ask her out." He suggested.

"I don't know." Spencer whispered so quietly that Morgan almost didn't catch it.

Before Morgan could say anything else the voice of one of the paramedics announced that you were free to go, and Spencer felt himself suddenly walk over to you without even realizing it as Morgan continued to watch with amusement.

"Hey."

You turned around at the sound of Spencer's voice and Spencer felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs. Your eyes were sparkling brighter than the stars that covered the cold night sky and he felt himself getting flushed again.

"Am... I- I was wondering i-if you would like me t-to take you home." Spencer stuttered a bit as you made eye contact with him, listening to him speaking."

You smiled at him, he was truly, utterly gorgeous. "That's really sweet, but I don't want to bother you."

"Please, it would be a pleasure to make sure you come home safe."

And so, after a while, you accepted his request and made a promise in front of the door of your apartment to keep in touch with the FBI agent who saved your life and will continue to save your life for as long as there is air in his lungs and the stars in his eyes.

'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

My baby's fly like a jet stream

High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

After all that happened to you with your stalker that was now put into prison, you decided to dissappear from the public eye for a while. You yearned for a break that was much needed. But with the break that you publicly announced and a promise to dissappear for a while you had to be more careful.

The trips to the simple places like grocery stores were yet another opportunity to dress up so no one could possibly recognize you. At that time, the number of the baseball caps, and a whole bunch of oversized hoodies, seemed to drastically increase and it continued to do so.

But there was a minor slip-up after 6 months since you disappeared.

It was a surprisingly quiet night. Spencer returned from the case earlier and you decided to take a walk around the town after visiting a local coffee shop.

You were so wrapped up in each other, soaking up every moment you had with each other. Sharing a whole lot of stolen kisses, looks, his hand nested itself on your shoulders, sharing laughter and smiles, eyes spanking. They were full of happiness and utter joy every time you were with him.

What neither of you expected was for Penelope practically tearing down the whole conference room, almost breaking down the door the next day just so she could get to Spencer.

Spencer was sitting at his chair, looking over the files along with everyone else when he found himself being startled as he watched Penelope waving the newest copy of today's newspaper as she practically screamed in excitement.

He was rather confused by her suddenly excitement even though it wasn't unusual for her. But once he saw her slamming the newspaper in the middle of the desk he felt himself getting pale.

Spencer and you made a cover of today's news. The headline, written in overly dramatic big letters with the fine print, read "AFTER 6 MONTH SHE MADE AN APPERCEIVE! FAMOUS SINGER Y/N Y/L/N SEEN WITH A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!!"

Just below the headline there was a picture of him and you from the night before. His arm was placed over your shoulders, bringing you closer to warm you up and keep you safe. His face was somehow, somewhat, covered by his hair because of the wind that couldn't be contained that night. Your hand was holding his that was slang over your shoulders. Your smile was radiant, your eyes shining as you kept your gaze on him. He couldn't help but smile a little at the photo.

"Explain yourself now, Spencer Reid!" Penelope shrieked, her voice getting higher each second. "What the hell are you doing with freaking Y/N Y/L/N!!"

He started stuttering so much, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but his nerves got the best of him. Suddenly, he felt a hand slapping his back sending him forward a bit as Morgan laughed.

"Good for you, pretty boy." Morgan smiled at him, teasingly. "Good for you."

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressin' up as kings

They fade to nothin' when I look at him

Pretty soon a year had passed since the hostage situation which included you being in danger.

A year since you met Spencer, a year of nothing but love and happiness.

Spencer opened the door of his apartment and held it like that so you could get into the apartment before him.

You stepped into the apartment, shaking the snowflakes that stuck to your head on this, quite cold, night in late November. You stood still for a moment, admiring Spencer as he removed his purple scarf before quickly lighting up the fire in the fireplace so that the warmth could spread around your home.

However, you noticed the slight change in his demeanor as you sat yourselfs on the couch near the fireplace. You, however, decided to not say anything because you knew that he would say what he wanted to once he was ready. You didn't want to put more pressure on him, but the plain fact that he was nervous made you extremely so, too.

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath before he turned to you.

"I know that this might seem sudden," Spencer started as he shyly looked into your concerned eyes that watched him talk carefully. "But I feel like I know you for longer than a year. I feel like I've known you my whole life. You complete me in every possible way one person can complete another. You bring immense joy in my life every single day. You show me that life and even people can be good every single day and I believe you despite all of the horrible things I see every day."

You were deeply touched by his confessed, but you were slightly confused because you could quite figure out as to why he was saying all of this to you right now.

"I can't imagine not waking up to you every moment," Spencer confessed, looking longingly into your eyes and you found yourself surprised when the sudden realization that he didn't stutter once drained on you. "I can't imagine seeing you every day, listening to your voice and admiring everything that you do."

Suddenly, he stood up and slowly lowered himself on one knee in front of you. He held out a small box in his hand before he continued to speak. You felt like you couldn't breathe once you realized what was about to happen, what was already happening.

"I simply can not imagine my life without you in it," Spencer continued as tears gathered in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man on this planet and marry me?"

"Yes!" You spoke up after you had gotten over your frozen state of shock. "Yes, of course I'll marry you, Spence!" You said, voice full of love as he slipped a beautiful ring onto your finger.

As you sat there by the fire, you knew that you had found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The snow continued to fall outside, but you knew that nothing could beat the warm feeling in the apartment and in your heart.

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

Two years flashes by to fast for you to keep up it seemed like.

Spencer and you got married as fast as you possibly could. You love each other more than anything and you were ready so you figured why not do it immediately. The life had been a bliss. And just when it seemed like it couldn't be better you found out that you were pregnant.

Spencer was overjoyed. He always wanted to have children, he always wanted to be a father. And now he could do it with the person he most loved, admired and cared for. He truly felt like passing out the moment he found out. And he did, but would always deny it with a blush glued to his face every time Morgan brought it up to tease him.

The moment your water broke all hell broke loose. Luckily, Spencer was at home so the only thing you had to do was to grab your hospital bag, keys and head to the car. You were 100% prepared for this.

However, you always felt like the moment it happened and it was finally time to go to the hospital you would be the one who would go into a panicked frenzy. So it was safe to say that you were genuinely surprised that once Spencer and you managed to stumble into the car and were on your way, you were the one who had the role of comforting the one who was in panic. Spencer was gripping the wheel so tightly you were scared that he would break it. It would be rather amusing if you weren't in so much pain already.

But after hours of labor and excruciating following hours of birth once you felt limp against the mattress, still holding onto Spencer's hand which you gripped so hard, but he never once complained, bless his heart, everything truly was worth it once you heard the loud yet at the same time soft cries of your baby girl.

Now, as you laid in the bed in another hospital room you couldn't move your eyes away from the sweet sight of Spencer sleeping in the chair right next to your bed with your baby girl in his arms. It was truly the sweetest sight you had ever witnessed. Spencer's messy hair was spread everywhere as his arms tightened around your little bundle of joy, but not to tightly to hurt her. The moment he got her in his arms, he wouldn't let her go. You guessed that he was afraid thay something unexpected would happen even though you gave your best to reassure him.

After hours of sleeping once you woke up, you could fall back asleep for some reason. Not that you complained.

You heard the door open and you turned your head that was still pressed against the pillow on the bed at the direction of the door. It was JJ, trying to enter as quietly as she possibly could while carrying a few cups of coffee.

"How are you, mama?" She whispered softly as he took a seat on another chair on the other side of your bed.

"Still a bit sore, but fine." You gave her a small smile that she softly returned. "I'm just so glad that this happened." You confessed quietly as you looked at JJ.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my life," You said as she listened to your every word. "But having our daughter with him... I know that I did one thing right."

I want to wear his initial

On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

Which is more than they can say, I

I recall late November

Holdin' my breath, slowly I said

"You don't need to save me

But would you run away with me?"

Yes (would you run away?)

A few months later another headline was released in many newspapers and magazines. There were a bunch of articles all over internet, too.

The newest addition of the People's magazine was laying on Penelope's dest by her screens. Derek soon enough entered the room with a curious look.

"Hey, baby girl," He greeted as he pressed a kiss on Penelope's cheek, looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newest addition of the magazine. "What are you up to?"

"Why hello handsome," she greeted with a smile before she brought the attention back to the magazine. "Look who made the cover."

And sure enough, on the front cover of the magazine, at the very top, there was a headline written with big, capital letters saying: Y/N Y/L/N MARRIED!? THE MUSIC STAR WAS SEEN WITH HER HUSBAND AND HER BABY OUT ON THE WALK FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!!"

Below the dramatic headline there was a picture of Spencer and you holding hands, dressed in warm clothes as you walked around the city on a cold, snowy November night. In front of you there was a stroller in which your daughter, Annie, was in. Your hand was quite visible along with the ring that was clearly a weeding ring. Spencer had his arm around your shoulder, showcasing his ring as well.

On the bottom of the cover there were some other news that were in slightly smaller font. You also released the new song after a long while. The song was called "Call It What You Want" and it said to turn the page 13 for the full lyrics and Derek did just that.

Penelope couldn't help but to let out a screech after she practically showed the magazine in his face. And just as Derek finished reading the lyrics to the song he couldn't help but to smile.

"Good for you, pretty boy," Derek pointed out, happily. "Good for you."

"Give me the magazine back," Penelope excitedly ordered him. "I'm gonna frame this now."

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it)

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

My baby's fly like a jet stream

High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it)

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

Call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want

To

->

->

->

JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE!!

I LOVE A BADASS FMC, LETS GOOOOO

In Case of Emergency (II)

(Spencer Reid x Medic! Reader)

Warnings: violence, mentions of assault, blood, slow burn, cursing, and eventual smut 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

word count: 3,300

Amidst an increase of injuries out in the field, a new team member is assigned to the BAU. A medic. Tasked with keeping the team alive, but when an unexpected threat challenges her ability to think on her feet, the team is forced to rethink their assumptions of their newest member.

Next | Previous | Beginning

Chapter Two: First Case

The team landed in Chicago just after sunset, stepping onto the tarmac as the crisp night air settled over the city.

Four women had been murdered in the past two weeks, all strangled and posed in public spaces- parks, alleyways, bus stops. No signs of sexual assault, no robbery, and no apparent personal connection between the victims. The Chicago PD was stumped, and the media was already running with the story.

Inside the local precinct, the officer in charge of the case briefed the team. A tired-looking man in his fifties, he ran a hand through his graying hair as he pulled up the crime scene photos, re-introducing the team to the case.

"All four victims were young women, ages twenty-four to thirty. They were found early in the morning by city workers or pedestrians. No eyewitnesses, no camera even caught the attacks," the officer explained. "The coroner ruled the cause of death as strangulation by ligature, but we haven't been able to identify what was used."

You stood towards the back of the precinct's conference room, taking in the gruesome images. The bodies had been positioned deliberately- hands folded across their stomachs, legs straight, eyes closed. Almost... peaceful.

JJ spoke up first. "He's not just dumping them- he's posing them. That suggests remorse. "

Hotch nodded. "Or it's a ritual."

Morgan studied the photos, frowning. "What about defensive wounds?"

The officer shook his head. "Minimal. No signs of a struggle. We don't think they were bound or incapacitated beforehand, either. It's like they didn't fight back."

You glanced at Reid, who tapped his fingers against the table, his mind already working.

"That could suggest a method of control, something that keeps them compliant," Redi said, his voice quickening with thought. "There are cases where killers use intimidation, coercion, or even psychological manipulation to subdue victims. But there's also the possibility of a chemical agent."

Your interest piqued. "A sedative?"

Reid nodded, flipping through the coroner's reports. "If the toxicology results aren't conclusive, we should check for less common paralytic agents- hydroxybutyrate, scopolamine, and even muscle relaxants. Some tend to metabolize quickly and wouldn't show up in standard tests."

Hotch turned to you. "We won't be heading out into the field until we get more information on the unsub. Could you go to the coroner's office and follow up?"

You nodded, standing, happy to be able to help the team. "On it."

Reid stood up quickly as well. "I'll go with her."

Hotch barely blinked before nodding, and out the corner of your eye, you could see Morgan smirking. "Alright. The rest of us will go to the crime scenes and see what we can find there."

As the team split up, you and Reid made your way to the coroner's office, walking side by side down the cold Chicago streets.

“You really think there could be a paralytic agent?” you asked.

Reid adjusted his satchel, his expression focused. “It would explain the lack of defensive wounds. Even in cases where a killer has overwhelming physical strength, victims typically scratch, claw, or attempt to break free. These women didn’t.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “If we find proof of that, it could tell us a lot about who we're looking for.”

Reid glanced at you with a small smile. “You catch on fast.”

You smirked. “Was that a compliment, Dr. Reid?”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

You laughed, and for a brief moment, the weight of the case felt just a little lighter.

The coroner's office was cold. The kind of artificial chill designed to preserve the dead and make the living feel uncomfortable. The air was thick with formaldehyde, and antiseptic.

You had spent enough time in med school around cavaliers to be unfazed, but the smell still lingered in the back of your throat. It always did.

The city's medical examiner greeted you both with a weary nod, leading you toward the sterile steel tables where the latest victim lay.

You and Reid stepped up beside the body as the medical examiner pulled back the crisp white covering. You immediately noted the pallor of the skin, the slight lividity around the neck, and the absence of external wounds beyond the ligature marks.

Reid spoke first. "Any signs of petechial hemorrhaging?"

The examiner nodded, gesturing toward the victim's eyes. “Yes, consistent with strangulation. But what’s strange is the lack of bruising around the trachea. Typically, in manual strangulation cases, we’d see deep tissue damage. The hyoid bone is intact.”

You leaned in, studying the marking with a clinical eye. "That means the unsub wasn't using brutal force. He applied even, calculated pressure- enough to cut off oxygen without crushing the windpipe."

You frowned slightly, slipping a glove from your bag and brushing your gloved fingers near the victim's clavicle. “See this slight indentation here? That suggests a flexible ligature—probably soft, something like a silk scarf, a thin rope, or medical tubing.”

Reid nodded. “That would make sense if he has medical knowledge. He would know how to strangle without causing excessive bruising, making it look almost… peaceful.”

You exhaled, removing your glove. “Which matches the way he posed them.”

The examiner glanced at you both. “You were right to suggest testing for chemicals—I ran an extended toxicology panel, and there were trace amounts of scopolamine in her system.”

You and Reid exchanged a sharp look.

“Scopolamine,” you muttered. “That changes everything.”

You and Reid returned to the precinct with the new discovery, presenting your finding to the team.

The both of you stood before the team who had just come back from the scene. You began to explain your findings. "Scopolamine is a powerful drug that can cause disorientation, suggestibility, and even temporary amnesia"

"If our unsub is using it, he could be convincing these women to follow him willingly," Spencer spoke, perfectly finishing your own thought process.

Prentiss frowned. “If he’s using scopolamine, that suggests a level of medical knowledge or access.”

You nodded. “It’s not something you just buy over the counter. He’s either making it himself, or he’s stealing it.”

Morgan reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. "I'll call Garcia and ask him to check the hospital and pharmaceutical suppliers' records."

A few moments later, Garcia's voice came through the speakerphone. "Okay, I’ve got three reported thefts of scopolamine in the last six months—two from hospitals, one from a university lab. I threw in that last search to cover all our bases."

"Thank you, babygirl, you're the best." Morgan flirted before exchanging goodbyes with Garcia.

“That gives us a starting point. Let’s get a list of employees and students who had access.” Hotch spoke sternly.

Reid crossed his arms. “Given the control he has over his victims, he may have a background in psychology or persuasion techniques—maybe even a history of domestic abuse or coercion.”

Morgan leaned back. “You’re thinking he’s done this before?”

Reid nodded. “Not necessarily murder, but manipulation, control, coercion—this level of precision suggests experience.”

You shivered slightly. The idea of a man practicing on victims before escalating to murder was sickening.

JJ turned to the map. “If we can predict where he’ll strike next, we might be able to stop him.”

You studied the locations of the previous victims. Something clicked in your mind.

“These sites… they aren’t random.” You pointed at the map. “They’re all near major commuter areas—train stations, bus stops, places where people might be alone for a few minutes.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s… that’s good. That means he’s hunting in a pattern.”

Hotch nodded. “Morgan, Prentiss, take a team and set up near the Red Line train station—if he follows the pattern, that could be his next hunting ground.”

As the team moved into action, Reid turned to you, an impressed look in his eyes.

“You saw the pattern before anyone else,” he said quietly.

You shrugged. “I just… noticed.”

He smiled slightly. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at the sincere praise from the resident genius of the BAU.

A black surveillance van was parked a block away from the suspected target site- a deserted alleyway near the Red Line train station. It was late, and the streets were quiet expect for the occasional car rolling past and the distant hum of the city's night life.

Inside the van, you were once again meticulously setting up your medical bag. Which was packed with epinephrine, suture kits, clotting agents, and emergency airway tools, among many other things. Everything had a place, arranged neatly for quick access in case things went sideways.

Reid sat across from you, watching as you adjusted the straps on your Kevlar vest. His eyes darted to the array of supplies, curiosity flickering across his face.

"You carry all of that with you on every case?" he asked.

"Pretty much. Never know what could happen; it's best to be overprepared than under. Even if it means my bag weighs tons." You smiled, zipping up the bag and adjusting the strap across your body.

He nodded, shifting in his seat. "That's smart. But also, extremely prepared."

You smirked. "That's what being a combat medic does to you. It might not be exactly the same as chasing serial killers, but if there's one thing the military drilled into me, it's always be prepared for the worst."

Reid blinked, processing. He tilted his head slightly in your direction. "It explains a lot, though."

"Like what?" you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

He hesitated before continuing. "Like why you're calm under pressure. and why Hotch trusts you in the field despite your..." He trailed off, suddenly looking unsure of his words.

You giggled. "Despite my 'cute and innocent' demeanor?" Recalling what Garcia had said about you previously, all of which the team, including Reid, had agreed with.

Reid gave you a sheepish look. "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, don't worry, Spence, I'm well aware of how the team sees me." You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice, a surge of playfulness and confidence overtaking you. "I'm just the innocent little medic, not a tough profiler. But between you and me?"

Reid swallowed hard as you got closer to him.

"I'm tougher than I look," you whispered, smirking slightly, then leaning back to rest your back against the van's wall.

Reid visibly blushed, the tips of his ears turning red as he fumbled for a response, once again surprised by you. There used to be a time when he would only allow one specific person to call him Spence, but when you said it, something shifted within him...he didn't mind it.

Reid cleared his throat, clearly trying to regain his composure. "W-Well, statistically, people tend to make assumptions based on outward appearances, but the reality is often much more nuanced."

You laughed softly. "I might have only gotten to know you for a small period, but I'm guessing that was a very Reid way of saying 'don't judge a book by its cover.'"

Before he could reply, Garcia, who had hacked into the city's surveillance, began to speak through the comms.

"Alright, my lovelies, we've got movement near the target location- unidentified male approaching a woman near the alleyway. Could be our guy.

You and Reid immediately snapped into work mode, grabbing your gear and pushing the van doors open.

The moment you stepped onto the street, making your way to the alleyway, you saw it.

A woman slumped against a wall, body limp.

"Reid, cover me." You said, rushing toward her, Reid nodding behind you, pulling out his gun, walking slowly to check the rest of the alleyway and informing the rest of the team on the situation.

You dropped to your knees beside the woman.

Immediately checked her pulse- weak and erratic. Her breathing was shallow, and her lips were turning blue.

Scopolamine.

"Stay with me," you murmured, pulling a vial of naloxone from your medical bag. With a steady hand, you injected the reversal drug into her thigh.

Seconds felt like an eternity as you monitored her, willing her to breathe. Then-

A sharp gasp.

Her chest rose violently, lung sucking in oxygen as she coughed.

You sighed in relief, hand on her shoulder. "You're okay. Just breathe."

But just as you began to catch your own breath-

A shadow creeps around the corner of the alleyway.

Your instincts screamed.

Before you could turn, you felt a hand grab your shoulder, yanking you backward.

The unsub.

Adrenaline surged through you as your military training kicked in. You twisted your body, using the unsub's momentum against him as you threw a sharp elbow into his ribs. He stumbled into the wall.

You didn't hesitate. Spinning on your heel, driving a kick into his stomach, crashing him to the ground.

The second he hit the pavement, you reached for you gun-

But before you could fire, Reid's voice rang out.

"Y/N!"

The unsub suddenly sprang back up, shoving you down to the floor and lunging straight for Reid.

No.

Your body moved before you could think.

Gun still in hand. Finger on the trigger.

BANG

The gunshot echoed through the alley, and the unsub collapsed, a bullet lodged in his shoulder.

Before you could stand back up, the rest of the team arrived, Morgan and Hotch moving to secure the unsub while Rossi and Prentiss checked on the victim. Sirens echoed in the background.

But Reid? He was immediately at your side, eyes scanning you for injuries.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight.

You nodded, adrenaline still surging. "Yeah, I'm fine. My back might not be in the morning, though." You attempted to joke to help shift the mood.

He exhaled, relief washing over his face. Then, he offered his hand.

You took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

"You saved my life," he spoke.

You smiled. "Told you I was tougher than I look."

Reid's lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something else, but Morgan's voice cut in.

"Damn, doc, remind me never to underestimate you again."

You grinned, glancing at Reid. "Did you hear that! I think they might be starting to come around!"

Reid playfully shook his head as you cheered, awe still written all over his face.

And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of something else.

The hum of the jet engines filled the cabin, a low, steady vibration beneath your feet as you settled into your seat across from Reid. The team was exhausted but in good spirits—case closed, unsub caught, and, thanks to you, no fatalities.

You could still feel the adrenaline thrumming through you.

Rossi leaned back with a smirk. “You know,” he mused, looking at you, “I was skeptical at first, but you handled yourself damn well back there.”

JJ nodded, smiling warmly. “I have to agree. You didn’t just patch people up—you kept a cool head, you read the scene, and you made the right call under pressure.”

Morgan grinned, pointing at you. “Give her some more training, and she could be one hell of a profiler.”

You blinked, surprised at the praise. “Oh, uh… thanks?”

Prentiss chuckled. “He’s right. You’ve got the instincts. The way you handled that unsub? Textbook situational awareness.”

Even Hotch, ever stoic, gave a small nod of approval. “If you’re interested, we can start incorporating more profiling training into your role.”

Your heart swelled a little at that. You had expected to be babied by the team for a while—especially after the whole ‘sweet and innocent’ first impression—but now? They actually saw you as capable.

“Wow, I—yeah, I’d love that,” you said, beaming.

Morgan smirked. “Still can’t believe you took down an unsub twice in one night.”

You laughed. “Beginner’s luck?”

“Yeah, sure,” Morgan drawled, shaking his head with amusement.

Reid had been quiet throughout the conversation, but you could feel his eyes on you. When you glanced over, he was already looking, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Impressed, Reid?" you teased.

Reid blinked. "I-um-yes, actually," he admitted. "Your level of medical expertise combined with your ability to assess danger is- well, statisically- extremely rare. It's very impressive."

His genuine admiration made your chest feel warm. You weren't used to someone analyzing your skills and appreciating them.

You smiled, leaning back in your seat. "High praise coming from you; you're the genius."

There was a moment of quiet between you, comfortable yet charged, before you shifted the conversation.

"So Dr. Reid," you said with a bit of humor. "Do you have any exciting post-case plans? Or is it all work and no play?"

Reid huffed a small laugh. “Well, statistically speaking, agents of the Behavioral Analysis Unit have a high tendency to engage in solitary activities after emotionally taxing cases, such as reading or watching television.”

You grinned. “Is that your fancy way of saying you’re planning a solo book night?”

Reid hesitated before giving a small nod. “Yes, actually. But I was also thinking about rewatching some Doctor Who episodes.”

Your eyes immediately lit up. “Wait—Doctor Who? Are you a Whovian?”

Reid blinked. “A what?”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest in mock offense. “Reid. Whovians—fans of Doctor Who. You’re telling me you watch the show and don’t even know what we’re called?”

Reid’s brow furrowed. “I—well, I suppose I knew the term existed, but I never personally identified with it.”

You squinted at him playfully. “Mm-hmm. Sounds like a closet Whovian to me.”

His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “And what would that make you?”

You grinned. “Oh, I’m loud and proud. I take my Doctor Who very seriously.”

Reid tilted his head slightly. “Do you have a favorite Doctor?”

"The tenth," you answered immediately.

Reid gave a knowing nod. “I suspected as much. You seem like a Ten fan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What does that mean?”

“Well, Ten is often considered the most charismatic, the most sentimental. He leads with heart rather than just intellect,” Reid mused. “You… seem like the type of person who values that in people.”

You stared at him, momentarily caught off guard by his insight. “Huh,” you murmured. “That’s… weirdly accurate.”

Reid smiled faintly. “I do profile people for a living.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Okay, genius, what about you? Who’s your favorite?”

Reid shifted slightly, a little more reserved. “Eleven.”

You grinned. “I knew it! You totally give Eleven energy.”

Reid’s eyebrows lifted. “How so?”

You crossed one leg over the other, studying him. “You’re ridiculously smart, sometimes talk a mile a minute, and you’ve got that whole charmingly awkward but incredibly endearing thing going for you.”

Reid opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly thrown. A slight flush crept up his neck. “I—uh—”

You laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s a compliment.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Well—um, thank you.”

You leaned forward slightly, dropping your voice just enough to make it feel just a little bit suggestive. “You know, I was actually planning a Doctor Who marathon soon.”

Reid’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, curiosity sparking in them. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Comfy clothes, way too many snacks, yelling at the TV when things get emotional. The full experience.” You let a beat pass before adding, “Could be fun to have some company.”

Reid blinked, his brain clearly processing at full speed. “Company? As in…?”

You smiled. “As in you, Spencer.”

Reid’s lips parted slightly. “Oh.”

You bit back a laugh at how comically stunned he looked. “Unless you’d rather watch alone.”

“No!” he said quickly, then seemed to catch himself. He straightened slightly, schooling his expression. “I mean—I’d like that. It sounds… fun.”

You smiled, a little softer this time. “Good. Then it’s a plan.”

Reid’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Yeah… a plan.”

Authors Note:

Ooooof, this was a long one! Haha! Sorry about that one. I really have fallen in love with this series, and once I started writing, I couldn't stop. I hope y'all enjoyed some reader and Spencer nerdy fluff at the end! I thought it would be a nice addition to such a case-driven chapter. Also, writing the case part was a bit of a challenge! But I tried my best and I hope it was good! I'm planning out the next chapter already, but I'm a bit torn between writing some more fluff or doing another case-driven one. Oh well, we'll see! If anyone has any suggestions, please do let me know! I'm open to any and all ideas!

Thank you for reading! <3

The fact that neither of them is into me 🥲

literally in love with the fact that both spencer reid and mgg are into magic

behind the scenes

gn!bau!reader x aaron hotchner (fluff, confessions)

words: 956

summary: Reader and Hotch have been keeping their love a secret, not even willing to admit it to each other, but when the reader starts having some financial issues Hotch knows he has to do something. The reader isn’t willing to take money from Hotch, but they gladly accept a confession of his love.

“Why did you call me into your office, sir?” you ask, closing the door to Hotchner’s dimly lit office. It’s not the first time you’ve been alone together in his office. Despite what you might want, nothing intimate has ever happened, just many late-night talks; venting to each other, telling stories, laughing, and even the occasional card game. You sit across from him as he slides his stack of paperwork to the side.

“I heard you’ve been struggling with money,” he says bluntly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. You and Hotch had a confusing relationship. It was obvious to most people the two of you were head over heels, but you would never admit, even to each other, that you were in love. So, you were left to steal glances, let your hands linger when passing paperwork, and lean on each other only after everyone else on the jet fell asleep. With this line of work, anything else was too dangerous.

“Sir, you called me into your office to discuss my financial situation?” you ask quizzically. Aaron rarely called you into his office, not wanting anyone to suspect his true feelings, so this was strange.

“Garcia may have let it slip to me,” he responds, clearly taking this very seriously. You internally facepalm, knowing you shouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone.

“Yes, well the rent at my apartment went up, and on top of that I have student loans to pay off, and it’s just been hard to take care of everything on my salary,” you respond awkwardly.

“I see. I can put in a request for a raise for you if you’d li-”

“No, no that’s fine,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I know the BAU is dealing with enough budget struggles as it is.”

“I could find the money,” he stares up at you, your features dimmed by the low light. He’d be disappointed if he hadn’t already memorized it.

“Aaron, you cannot give me federal funds to pay my rent,” you say in a hushed whisper, shocked that he would even suggest it. He just smiles.

“Embezzlement? No, I’d like to give you some of my money to help.”

“You can’t do that. What about Jack?”

“I promise, Jack and I are doing perfectly fine. He could go to Harvard for free with the money I have saved.”

“With a father like you, I’m sure he’ll get in.”

“You’re calling me smart?”

“No,” you grin, “but you’re in the FBI, so I’m sure you could guarantee his acceptance.”

“Right, with all the government money I’m embezzling,” he jokes. You just smile, taking a moment to look at him. His smile lines. The faint rings under his eyes from long nights at the office. It was all so perfect. “I just want you to know, I’m serious about this offer.”

“Aaron, my financial situation has been better since I last spoke to Garcia. I’m moving soon and I found a roomate.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with a small smile, staring into your eyes.

“Will that be all?” you ask, smiling back.

“Yes,” he says reluctantly. “But I have one request.”

“What’s that?” You stand up and Hotch is quick to follow suit.

“You’ll let me visit the new apartment?”

“Of course. As coworkers?” Aaron’s smile fades, his face forming a pensive expression, but he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows thickly, struggling to form a response.

“Yes, of course, as coworkers,” he clarifies. You stare at him, not saying a word, barely struggling to hold your laughter in. He cracks a smile, seeing your expression. “Something to say?” he asks you.

“Maybe you should come over as more than a coworker,” you say slyly, hoping you aren’t pushing the envelope too far.

“I’d like that,” he quickly agrees. Relief floods over you, causing you to smile with glee.

“Is it too soon to kiss you?” You ask playfully, shooting him a wink.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he says, leaning into you. You grab his tie, pulling him in close. Gently, he presses his warm lips against yours. He kisses you deeper, pressing your back against the office door. His big hands grab your waist, keeping you close. You snake your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Slowly, he pulls away, leaving you hungry for more.

“We should probably stop, maybe we could continue this when I get the new apartment tour?” he suggests.

“I’d be very open to that,” you reply with a smile. He smiles back, filling your stomach with butterflies.

“I’ll see you then,” Hotch replies, straightening out his suit. You do the same and open the door, revealing Garcia, Morgan, Spencer, JJ, and Emily staring at you with wide grins.

“I knew it!!” Garcia exclaims, high-fiving Morgan as she giggles.

“Never took Hotch for a ladies man,” Emily jokes dryly.

“You must not have been paying attention,” Morgan chimes in, “the guy’s smooth.”

“Right, and I’m sure he learned it from you,” JJ says sarcastically. You laugh at her remark, drawing attention back to you and Hotch.

“Really?” you ask, embarrassed, “even Spencer knew?

“I pick up on body language very well,” he says straight-faced. “Plus, you didn’t think we were all asleep on the jet, did you?” he asks, smiling wide. The whole team playfully laughs and you turn back to Hotch.

“I think our secret is out,” you tell him.

“They were going to learn eventually,” he says with a smile. He cradles the back of your head and gently kisses your forehead in front of the team. Cheers erupt from your friends, causing you to blush, but Hotch doesn’t seem embarrassed, if anything, he’s proud.

i found you

gn!reader x spencer reid (fluff)

words: 1778

summary: You and Spencer have been friends for years, so it only makes sense you went to a local St. Patrick’s Day parade together. However, when he loses you at the parade he realizes how important it is that you know how much he loves you, so of course he confesses.

Spencer pushed through the crowd, fighting to find you. You had been his best friend for years. You’d helped him through the fear his work caused, and you were even there during his addiction. He thought of you as his whole world. You reminded him of why it was worth it to deal with the horrors he saw every day. You were his light in the darkness, and now you were lost in a giant crowd of people. It was packed, and there had to be thousands of people around. It was one of the biggest St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in the entire country. 

Spencer’s mind started to race with different ideas. You could’ve been kidnapped, or even killed. He knew the statistics on that, but he tried not to think about them for his own sanity. His mind flashed with different victims he’d seen over the years. You could be in the same situation as any of them right now, but he prayed you weren’t. 

He called out your name as loud as he could, trying to make himself see above the crowd, but the only response he got was a disapproving side eye from a mother carrying her child. He felt embarrassed but knew he couldn’t stop till he found you. His heart was beating in his ears, and his breathing was shallow. He knew this could turn into a panic attack at any second, and as much as he wanted to break down he knew it wouldn’t help him find you. 

He quickly turned around, thinking he heard your voice, but instead found a visibly drunk man. 

“Sorry about that,” the man said as he stumbled, spilling beer all over Spencer’s shirt. The beer smelled awful, and now his shirt was uncomfortably sticky, but the thought of finding you kept him together.

“It’s fine,” Spencer responded before quickly darting off, still set on finding you unharmed. He tried to clear out the horrific images in his mind, but there was little he could do. He rushed back to where he’d last seen you, deciding maybe you hadn’t gone that far after all. The sun was starting to set, and it put him on edge. When it went dark it’d be so much harder to find you. 

He regretted walking away from you earlier. He told you that he had to go to the bathroom, but he actually wanted to surprise you with a drink he noticed you eyeing at one of the drink carts. He had to wait in an excruciatingly long line, but he thought it would be worth it because it meant getting to see your beautiful smile. When he returned to where you were supposed to be waiting for him you were already gone. Looking back, it was stupid, but in the moment he didn’t think twice. He was an intelligent and trained FBI agent who was carrying a gun, so he felt safe, but he didn’t think twice about the fact you didn’t have any experience with dangerous criminals. 

He pushed through people, standing once again in front of the drink cart. He looked around, but there was no one there. He considered calling Garcia. Maybe she’d be able to hack into the security footage and use facial recognition software to see where you went and who you were with, but Spencer knew that would take too much time. Besides, it would be way too embarrassing to admit he was freaking out so much over losing you for 20 minutes. Garcia knew all about his feelings for you, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her teasing at a time like this.

Spencer noticed the street lamps starting to flicker on. They were the only light left now that the sun had set. As embarrassing as it was, he decided maybe it actually would be a good idea to call the BAU. Or Garcia at least. 

He noticed the diner sitting on the road’s edge in front of him and decided to wait there while he called. Running around in a packed crowd clearly wouldn’t help him find you, and it definitely wasn’t making him feel better. 

The diner had a muted brown roof with big white letters that spelled out Tony’s Place. It hardly had walls at all, as most of the sides were large glass windows. There was a quaint wooden bench outside of it facing the street. It was unsuspecting and matched every other building on the street.

Spencer Walked through the door, hearing a bell ring as he did. The place was crowded, but much less crowded than the parade was. The interior looked something straight out of the ’50s. There were black and white checkered tiles, booths with red leather seats, and a bar where people sat sipping their drinks. He could smell french fries and apple pie coming from the kitchen. 

“How can I help ya, sugar?” An older waitress with dirty blonde curls asked him. She looked tired, and Spencer noticed the pack of cigarettes in her apron. Her name tag read Darlene. 

“I just need a place to sit,” he told her nervously. She smiled at him with an understanding, motherly smile. 

“Sounds great,” she told him as she ushered him over to a booth. It was next to a giant window that faced the parade. He looked around, but there was no one who even looked like you. “Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked sympathetically. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that he was upset. 

“Coffee please,” he responded quickly. She nodded and quickly left to get him a cup. He fished his phone out of his pocket and let out a sigh. He anxiously dialed Garcia’s number, almost hitting the wrong keys in a rush.

“Hello, Mighty Professor. It’s not like you to call me like this when you’re not at work,” she said joyfully. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond. He almost felt bad telling her what was wrong. She loved you too. “What can I help you with, sweetie?” She asked again. Spencer was usually eager to ask questions and get her help, but now he wasn’t saying anything at all. 

“Well, it’s just-“ he stopped himself, not sure how to even explain it. His leg was anxiously bouncing, and every second that passed felt like an hour. Before he got the chance to explain it all to Garcia the waitress had come back with his cup of coffee. He could see the steam emitting from it and he thanked her. 

“Just doin’ my job baby,” she told him in a reassuring voice. He could tell she was used to dealing with people who were upset, and just this once he didn’t mind being treated like a kid. 

“Who’s that?” Garcia questioned from the phone.

“It’s no one, just a waitress,” he responded. “That’s not the point. I need your help, Garcia.” Even from over the phone, Garcia could tell Spencer was anxiously biting his lip.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“I need help finding-” Spencer quickly cut himself off. Across the diner he noticed you. Even though your back was to him, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was you. He knew everything about you like the back of his hand. It was your hair, your clothes, your body. 

“Nevermind. Thanks, Garcia. Gotta go,” he told her before quickly hanging up. He stood up and quickly ran across the diner to you. He didn’t even realize it, but he was starting to cry. “Thank God it’s you,” he said. You quickly turned around and he wrapped his arms around you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” You asked, feeling one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He held onto you tightly, not ready to ever let you go. 

“I couldn’t find you,” he breathed out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“Spencer, I’d never leave you,” you respond. He nods and you look at him to see the tears running down his face. 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the abduction cases I’ve seen before. All those people who died. I wasn’t ready to lose you too,” he tells you. You’ve never seen him so upset before. Working at the BAU wasn’t easy, and he was finally letting it show. You hold onto him, trying to let him know that you’re safe now. You hear his heartbeat, and it’s pounding quickly. His hands are shaky as they hold you, and his breathing is still shallow. 

“I found you,” he whispers in your ear. He pulls away from you just enough to kiss you. He keeps one hand on your waist and moves the other to your jaw, holding onto it as he kisses you passionately. He slowly pulls away, wanting to be as close to you as possible. 

“Take it outside!” An older man sitting at the bar playfully exclaimed, causing Spencer’s face to flush. He grabbed onto your hand, leaving a twenty on the table for Darlene, and led you outside to the wooden bench in front of the diner. The two of you sat down together, the soft glow from the street lamp illuminating him. A few stars could be seen shining brightly above you. There was a chilly breeze, but with how close Spencer was keeping you the two of you were plenty warm. He wasn’t crying anymore. He just sat next to you, admiring your presence. 

“I need to tell you something,” he says, gently squeezing your hand.

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“When I lost you, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the bad things I’ve seen. I didn’t know what I’d ever do without you, and because of that, I don’t ever wanna be without you again. I know dating can be really complicated when you’re in the BAU. Plenty of relationships fail. But I love you so much, and I really think if you gave me a chance this might work, even if it’s statistically unli-” You interrupt him, softly kissing his lips. He leans into the kiss, and you can smell the aroma of coffee and leather that lingers on him. Reluctantly, you both pull away, but only by a few centimeters. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “did you do that because I was rambling again?”

“I did that because I love you too,” you whisper back. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time. He hoped he’d never have to.

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

a/n: Special St. Patrick's Day post lol! Also, I know I’ve been getting a lot of Twilight requests- and I’m so happy about it!! (and I am working on them)- but I wanted to take a break to write a fun Spencer Reid oneshot bc I love him sm lol

Character List:

Characters Who I Will Write For! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Avatar: The Way of Water:

Jake Sully

Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Ao'nung

Criminal Minds:

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

David Rossi

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Elle Greenaway

Enola Holmes:

Sherlock Holmes

Viscount Tewksbury

Enola Holmes

Fantastic 4:

Johnny Storm

Susan Storm

Reed Richards

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Ronald Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Sirius Black

Cedric Diggory

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Hermione Granger

Mattheo Riddle

Theodore Nott

Regulus Black

Lorenzo Berkshire

Remus Lupin

The Marauders

Hunger Games:

Katniss Everdeen

Gale Hawthorne

Peeta Mellark

Finnick Odair

IT:

Bill Denbrough

Eddie Kaspbrak

Stanley Uris

Richie Tozier

Henry Bowers

Mike Hanlon

Ben Hanscom

Labyrinth:

• Jareth

Marvel:

Tony Stark

Peter Parker

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

Bruce Banner

Clint Barton

T’Challa

Shuri

Loki Laufeyson

Thor Odinson

Peter Quill

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World:

Scott Pilgrim

Ramona Flowers

Shameless:

Lip Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Fiona Gallagher

Ian Gallagher

Stranger Things:

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Dustin Henderson

Lucas Sinclair

Jim Hopper

Eleven

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Jonathan Byers

Max Mayfield

13 Reasons Why:

Hannah Baker

Clay Jensen

Justin Foley

Monty De La Cruz

The Babysitter:

Melanie Cyrus

Cole Johnson

Bee

Phoebe Atwell

The End of The Fucking World:

James

Alyssa

The Lost Boys:

David

Dwayne

Marko

Paul

Michael Emerson

The Princess Bride:

Buttercup

Westley

Inigo Montoya

Wednesday:

Wednesday Addams

Xavier Thorpe

X-Men:

Alex Summers

Scott Summers

Charles Xavier

Erik Lehnsherr

Logan Howlett

Peter Maximoff

Hank McCoy

Mystique

Storm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Leave requests for who you would like to see me write for!

-Hal

SWEETPIANOXOXO

About Me:

18+ blog most posts include some kind of sensitive detail. Some contain religious blasphemy, canon-typical incest , and smut.

All dividers used in this blog will belong to @anitalenia

Anything is subject to change (titles, tags, etc). Feel free to ask questions if navigation becomes confusing!

MASTER-MASTERLIST

ASOIAF:

Cregan Stark (hotd)

Rhaenyra Targaryen (hotd)

Daemon Targaryen (hotd)

Aemond Targaryen (hotd)

Aegon Targaryen (hotd)

Helaena Targaryen (hotd)

Sansa Stark (GoT)

Daenerys Targaryen (GoT)

Sandor Clegane (GoT)

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid (Cm)

Aaron Hotchner (Cm)

Call of Duty MW:

Poly 141 (141)

John Price (141)

What i write:

-Headcanons

-Blurbs

-Oneshots

*when something written on the masterlist before a link to it appears, its a w.i.p (work in progress) or is a planned idea for something to be started shortly

Requests: open

Drabbles with multiple characters will be listed here:

The Targaryens With... ->drabble series including Rhaenyra, Daemon, Aegon, Aemon, and Helaena

-A Stark Woman

-A Lannister Lady

-A vampire wife (vamp au)

Would you like to be tagged for all my works or specific characters? Comment below and tell me, and i can create / add to tag lists.

if u write literally any penelope garcia x fem!reader smut i will love u forever 🙏🙏🙏 (does not have to be like super smutty if u dont want) (maybe they go home together after a hard case and. relax. a little?)

i love ur writing!! :3

Enjoy :)

Rainbows and Storm Clouds 🌈 🌧️

The case had taken too much from both of them. Penelope closed the front door to their shared apartment with a heavy sigh, dropping her tech bag beside the coat rack.

Her heart was still tangled in the horror of the week, missing kids, sleepless hours, too much coffee and too little hope. From the kitchen, Y/N looked up.

She was tall and elegant in that quiet, still-water way. Bare feet, tank top, and sleep pants slung low on her hips. Her lean frame moved slowly, muscles pulled tight from exhaustion.

The subtle tattoos on her ribs and inner arms peeked out in the soft kitchen light, delicate and personal. "Hey, love," Y/N said gently, crossing the floor in long strides to catch Penelope.

"You're home."

Penelope let herself melt into the hug, burying her face in Y/N's chest. "I've never hated the world more." Y/N just held her tighter, one of her hands moving to hold Penelope's gorgeous blonde hair.

"I know."

They didn't talk much more. Didn't need to. The night folded in around them like velvet, slow, warm, and insanely gentle. Quiet music drifted from a speaker.

Penelope lit lavender candles while Y/N poured two glasses of wine, then set them down untouched on the bedside table. They kissed slow, Y/N always kissed slow.

Her fingers stroked behind Penelope's ear, across her jaw, down her sides, steady and reverent like she was trying to remind them both what tenderness looked like.

Penelope fell back on the bed, legs open, arms reaching, "Touch me," she whispered, her eyes glassy and soft. Y/N didn't rush. She always liked starting things slow, savouring every reaction, every sound and tremble.

She kissed down Penelope's neck, along her chest, between the soft curves Garcia always called 'too much' but Y/N loved them. Worshipped them.

She mouthed at her girlfriend's breast, sucking gently until Penelope arched up into her mouth. Fingers dipped low. Slow circles. Long strokes.

Y/N slid two fingers inside, curling them perfectly, her other hand never stopping its slow petting over Penelope's ribs, her belly, her thigh.

Penelope whined and gasped, thighs tightening, hips rocking up, one hand tangled in Y/N's soft, sun streaked hair. "I've got you," Y/N murmured, the vibration sending more sensation across Penelope's body.

"Let it go."

Penelope came with a soft cry, back arching like a bow. Y/N stayed with her, kissing every part of her she could reach, waiting for her to breath again.

Then Penelope blinked up at her, smiling, flushed and blushing, "Your turn." Y/N was quick to shake her head gently, "No, you don't have to..."

Penelope, in turn, shook her head, rolling them over with surprising strength, straddling Y/N with a wicked little smile. "I want to." Y/N let her.

Penelope took her time. She pressed kisses to the slope of Y/N's shoulders, licked down the lines of the tattoo on her ribs, traced her hands across the soft stretch of Y/N's stomach, admiring how she twitched under the touch.

Then she slid down between her legs, spreading her thighs gently, kissing the inside of one before curling her fingers into her. Y/N gasped and let her head fall back, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other fisting the sheets.

Penelope sucked slow and deep, fingers matching her rhythm, her free hand holding Y/N's hip still as she moved. Every moan Y/N gave her was a gift.

Every trembling breath, every whispered plea for "just a little more, please," was wrapped in love and gratitude.

When Y/N came, it was like something quiet breaking open, her voice low, shuddering, thighs shaking, body relaxing all at once like the band had snapped. Her body ending its fight against itself.

After, Penelope kissed her way back up, pulling Y/N into her arms. They laid there, heartbeats slowing in sync. Eventually, they padded barefoot into the bathroom.

Y/N ran the bath while Penelope dimmed the lights and brought the abandoned wine glasses on from the bedside. The tub was filled with lavender and honey oils, the warm water almost glowing in the candle light.

They sank into the bath, limbs tangled, bodies soft, heads resting together in silence. Garcia kissed Y/N's temple and whispered, "Thank you..."

Y/N kissed her back, "Always, love."

They stayed in the water until the candles burned low, until the pain of the world faded into the warmth between them, and nothing else existed by skin, breath and the raw and unconditional safety of each other.

Glasses Reid is elite and Emily in this is fucking iconic

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

Love love love 🤍

schrödinger’s relationship

spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: situationship (ish? it gets resolved fast lol), mutual pining, friends to lovers (except they've been kissing for months), mention of heavy makeout, lap sitting, shirt removal, spencer kissing you to shut you the fuck up, cat does not survive the experiment (metaphorically speaking, there is no animal killing in this fic LOL) wc: 1.4k request: here

Your body is warm in his lap, your weight pressing down just enough to be distracting — no, disorienting — and Spencer is trying very hard not to look at your lips. Not just because they’re parted, slick, and kiss-swollen, but because the soft smudge of your lip gloss is evidence that this has been happening. That he’s been kissing you long enough to leave proof of it.

Mascara has clumped just slightly at the corners of your lashes and there’s a half-moon of pink polish chipped at the very edge of your thumbnail.

He’s obsessing over details. Your pupils are dilated, swallowing every fleck of color. He knows it’s a physiological response — dopamine, norepinephrine, oxytocin, all working in tandem to make you look like this, flushed and increasingly pretty on his thighs.

It’s easier to focus on biology than it is to focus on the fact that this moment exists in a state of suspended reality.

This was new. Not just in the way that everything between you had been new, in the way that months of small, careful steps had led to this, but in the way that Spencer had never felt like this. Overheated. Overwhelmed. Overrun with sensation. It had started as everything else had — soft and slow, the kind of kissing that didn’t lead anywhere except to more kissing. 

And for months, he convinced himself that he could exist in this purgatory of lips meeting and parting, of hands resting politely at your waist. That he could always pull away before the ground gave away beneath him.

Today the ground was gone.

Spencer had never been particularly drawn to categories — not in the way people seemed to crave them. Labels had always felt limiting, reductive, forcing the complexities of human relationships into neat little boxes that never quite fit. He had been content in ambiguity, had never needed something to be named in order to understand it. 

With you, the lack of label wasn’t liberating, it was frustrating. Because if this wasn’t something that could be named, then what was it?

“I’m just saying, I feel like if Rossi can write a whole book about a case, then I should at least be able to mention it in passing at brunch.” Your fingers skate absentmindedly across the dip of his throat, and Spencer, entranced, forgets to do something as basic as breathe. Oxygen is apparently optional. “But no, apparently that’s an inappropriate topic over eggs benedict. Which, okay, sure, but if I have to sit through another conversation about Carly’s fiance’s fantasy football league, I think I deserve to liven it up a little, you know?”

Your genuine need for an answer is clear, but Spencer can’t even remember what brunch is.

You gesture when you talk, and it’s so innocent — just emphasis, just a habit — but right now, it’s destroying him. Your fingers drag absently up his arm, over the soft material of his sweater, mapping the line of his forearm before skimming back up his neck. And then, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your palms smooth over his chest, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone like you’re idly counting his heartbeats. Spencer is painfully aware of every single one.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

Spencer manages to clear his throat — barely.

“I think your friends don’t appreciate you enough.” His voice sounds strained, but any attempt at analyzing tone evaporates the second his fingers breach the barrier of your shirt. 

Warm fingertips skim over bare skin, and suddenly, the conversation seems wildly misplaced. Because what was that about appreciation? If he’s trying to prove a point, he’s making it very convincingly.

You hum, shifting against him — not intentionally, probably, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels it all the same.

“Well, I can’t just hang out with you constantly.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond — because if he’s honest, that’s exactly what he wants. You, constantly. No breaks, no buffer. Just you.

Instead, he stares at your mouth again, because his brain is broken, and this is the inevitable destination. He never really understood the appeal of making out before you — before that first time, when he was supposed to just kiss you once and somehow ended up losing entire minutes of his life to your lips, to the sheer pleasure of pressing against you, of drinking in your sounds.

His broken brain is built to reinforce pleasure-seeking behaviors. Neurochemical feedback loops, all of it designed to keep him coming back. To keep him wanting. As if he needed the help.

Spencer doesn’t even pretend to think about it before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Your lips twitch. You’re about to tease him, he can tell.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all,” you say, tilting your head. “But wasn’t it you who went on that tangent about how platonic relationships significantly improve cognitive function?”

Spencer tries to find a loophole in that statement.

“And we,” you say, tracing a path down the trail of hair at his navel, “are not exactly fulfilling the platonic requirement.”

There was a time when he would have insisted — vehemently, even — that their relationship was strictly platonic. Fool’s errand.

“I mean, technically, if we wanted to be platonic, we could just… say we are.” That alone is egregiously incorrect. Spencer prepares to say as much, but then you pause, rolling the thought over like you’re actually considering it, before adding, “Like if we don’t label it, then it doesn’t count, right?”

His first instinct is to argue. His second instinct is to really argue. But neither one survives the sensory overload of you pressed against him.

“It’s like when you don’t open your credit card statements,” you continue, lips pursed. “Sure, the debt exists, but if you don’t acknowledge it, then it doesn’t feel real. So technically, if we just never say what this is, then it’s…”

“Schrödinger’s relationship?”

Spencer doesn’t know why he gives you the words — why he hands you the metaphor like a loaded gun and watches as you take perfect aim.

“Exactly! We exist in a state of undefined possibilities. We’re both platonic and not platonic until we open the box.”

Spencer sighs, rubbing at his temple, because now his entire brain is consumed by the implications of your logic. 

Schrödinger’s cat was never meant to be a real experiment — just a way to illustrate how, in quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until measured. The cat is placed in a box, along with a vial of poison triggered by a completely random quantum event. Until the box is opened, it’s both alive and dead, trapped in an impossible in-between, a paradox that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. The problem is, that concept doesn’t translate perfectly to relationships. People aren’t quantum particles. Relationships don’t exist in probability states.

Except, apparently, this one does. Because as long as neither of you put a definitive label on what’s happening here, you exist in an undefined state. 

He glances at you, at the expectant look in your eyes, and something about it makes him laugh, not because this is funny, necessarily, but because of course it would take a physics analogy for him to see what’s been obvious all along.

“I’m fairly certain that if we opened the metaphorical box, we would find that the cat — that is, our relationship — was decidedly not platonic.”

He hopes you’ll take the words for what they mean. That, for once, you won’t take the obvious escape route, won’t let yourself tuck this moment nearly into the realm of plausible deniability.

Because what he really said — what he really meant — was that he wants you. Only you. Singular, exclusive, definitively. If you pressed him for stronger language, he’d give it to you.

Your face was quick to light up.

“Are you asking me to go steady? Because Spencer, that’s a serious commitment. That means shared desserts, and, like, the expectation that I text you goodnight. And what’s the policy on PDA? Full access or —”

The rest of your sentence vanishes into fabric as Spencer pulls your shirt over your head, words muffled into cotton. You let out a muffled protest, momentarily caught in the fabric, and Spencer swears he’s never been more tempted to laugh at anything in his life.

By the time he tosses your shirt aside, you’ve recovered, blinking at him like nothing happened, hair adorably mussed.

“ — case-by-case basis?”

Spencer drags his hands down your hair, smoothing out the worst of the damage. He sighs dramatically, but his lips are twitching. “If I had known going steady required this much paperwork, I would’ve reconsidered.”

You grin at him. “Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait until we get into the holiday gift-giving policies and date night scheduling. Speaking of which —”

He doesn’t let you finish. He kisses you mid-sentence, less because he wants to shut you up (though that’s a nice bonus) and more because he can. Because he gets to. Because somehow, without him even realizing it was happening, this wonderful, impossible thing has become real.

This thing between you, this thing that was supposed to be undefined, a quantum maybe — it’s never been uncertain. It’s never been both platonic and not platonic, no matter how long he tried to pretend otherwise.

No, the box is open now. It probably always was. 

And Spencer had never been so happy to kill the cat.

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