Spencer Reid x Rossi!daughter who didn't realize they were dating [1.7k words]
CW: fem!reader, Rossi's adult daughter works for the BAU [mother unknown], reader's referenced abandonment issues and is said to be commitment averse, reader's implied to be wearing a dress/skirt and stockings, sweet Spencer
Morgan often takes any opportunity to tease you for actually doing your job for once, but you hunched over case files isn’t actually as rare of a sight as he might lead one to believe.
You’re a pain in the ass, for sure; Hotch’s mostly, his own a bit, and probably your father’s too, though Dave has the fatherly duty to love you for it anyways. But in spite of this – and any grief you cause the Bureau – you’re a damn good agent.
So, no, it’s not rare to see you dutifully finishing up your casefiles to submit to Hotch later. It is rare, though, to see you doing it alone.
“Where’s your lover boy?” He asks as he drapes his jacket over the back of his own chair a few desks over.
Your head doesn’t move an inch but your eyes dart up from the files to meet his gaze. “Me? What lover boy?”
Morgan snorts. “What? You have more than one?”
You smirk as your gaze returns to the file in front of you. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Morgan is saved from responding (or, perhaps, you’re saved from his response) as a coffee appears in your eyeline, carefully placed beside your paperwork by lithe fingers attached to a delicate wrist.
The groan the sight elicits from you is nearly pornographic. “Thank you, Spence.”
“What? No coffee for me, loverboy?” Morgan drawls.
This, he notices, has your head popping up.
“You know what?” Spencer offers, “I’ll give you my coffee if the croissant in that paper bag you’ve got there is for me.”
Checkmate Morgan thinks with a smile when Penelope appears in the bullpen as though the promise of croissants (or, perhaps, the sound of Derek’s voice) was a siren call signalling her demise.
“You stay away from my sweet, sweet treat there, boy wonder.” She squeaks as she swipes the pastry from Derek’s desk.
“That’s alright, Reid, we’ve all got our favourites.” Prentiss chuckles as Penelope munches gratefully and you take a sip from your coffee, narrow eyes fixated on the rest of the team as Spencer heads to place his lunch in the fridge in the break room.
“My sweet, dashing deliverer of all things good in the world,” Penelope addresses Derek, likely speaking about the croissant she takes a pleased bite out of, “you know I love you more than life itself but why were you bargaining with my croissant?”
“Oh relax baby girl, I’d never slight you like that. What my girl wants, my girl gets, just like Spencer’s girl over there.”
You snort a laugh at that, though you’re still scrutinizing Derek like you don’t completely trust him. With your life? Sure. With your feelings? Not a chance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You really don’t know, do you?” Emily asks then, her posture softening as she considers you.
“Know what?”
“That you and the doctor over there are dating.” Morgan answers.
“And have been for the better part of a year.” Emily adds; Penelope nodding in agreement.
For perhaps the first time Derek can ever recall, you look genuinely stunned; perplexed, even.
“What? No. No, no. I don’t date.” You tell them, shaking your head as you busy yourself with organizing your desk.
“Right.” Emily scoffs at the same time Derek laughs “Yes, you do; you’ve been going steady since at least the Christmas party last year.”
He thinks he notices you fluster at the memory; tipsy kisses under a mistletoe that – if Derek didn’t know any better – definitely led to some far less tipsy and way more intentional canoodling later on in the evening.
The team had been smart enough not to comment on it though; the shift so slight but completely undeniable. The two of you have been basically inseparable ever since.
Whenever a case required shared rooms, you and Spencer were always quick to volunteer. When a case hit you particularly hard, Spencer was the first one you went looking for. In turn, you doted on him endlessly after a case got the better of the infamous Doctor Spencer Reid. Most of your free time outside of the BAU saw the two of you together as well, and the last time Spencer went to visit his mom, you travelled with him.
For you, that pretty much translates to married with kids.
It’s quite clear to those who know you that you try to hide any potential abandonment issues and fears of commitment behind a facade of being a player. Derek’s just beginning to realize that Reid has found a cheat code to this when Emily carries on.
“Tell me this then, Junior,” Emily smiles as she rests her hip against her desk, “when’s the last time you went on a date?”
Your brows furrow at her question but you begin wracking your brain for an answer.
You’re coming up short.
“I… well-” you stutter, shaking your head imperceptibly as though you couldn’t believe you were drawing a blank on this “I guess…when I went for drinks with that guy after the case in Vegas, but-”
“Wrong.” It’s Penelope who interrupts you. “Last weekend you let Reid drag you to that screening of the documentary about chimpanzees.”
“Okay, first of all, he didn’t drag me; I went willingly.” You bite out scathingly. Penelope doesn’t seem perturbed by your icy demeanor. “Secondly, that wasn’t a date.”
“No?” Emily goads, sharing a knowing look with Derek. “So I suppose that the run to the grocery store and then the dinner the two of you cooked together later that same evening wasn’t a date, either?”
You’re about to ask her how she knows about this or, perhaps, what the fuck her problem is, when Spencer walks back into the room.
“Hey Reid,” Derek starts, “what’s the exact definition of a date?”
Spencer’s stride slows as he makes it to his desk, brows furrowed though he answers dutifully. “A date is understood as the day of the month or year as specified by a number.”
“Not that kind of date.” Penelope chides gleefully, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looks between the two of you. “A romantic date!”
And if Spencer is confused by the line of questioning, his eagerness to transmit the improbable amount of data bouncing around in his skull wins out.
“Well, I guess the understanding of a date would depend on the people involved…” He starts carefully. “What might be considered as a romantic gesture or event may not be considered romantic by someone else. But, I suppose spending time with another person who you feel fondness for by doing things you think they would enjoy, or that they think you would enjoy, and enjoying it simply because you're doing it with them could be considered a date. Generally it might involve food, drinks, movies, sightseeing, or something else depending on the people involved. Why?”
“So, sort of like what you and Y/N have been doing for the past year, then?” Emily encourages as she stares resolutely at you.
Spencer, for his part, has the grace to look somewhat bashful as he chances a look in your direction.
“We’ve…been dating?” You whisper, lips parted as you look at Spencer. “Did you know?”
Spencer’s mouth pinches uneasily but he nods his head yes anyways.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” And if Derek didn’t know any better, he’d think you sound almost gutted at the realization – not that the two of you were dating, but rather – that Spencer hadn’t said anything about it.
“Well…you’ve been happy.” Spencer starts carefully, clearly monitoring your face for any signs that you might lunge at him or take off running – neither option is completely out of the realm of possibility when it comes to you. “I don’t claim to be an expert on this by any means but I was fairly confident that I was making you happy and…and I knew you’d be less happy if I tried to put a label on it and, well, I was okay not acknowledging it if that’s what you needed.”
And dammit, if Derek Morgan’s big-brother heart didn’t nearly bleed right out of his chest at that.
Spencer seems slightly winded by the end of his admission, but he chances a few cautious steps in your direction. When he’s convinced that the probability of you taking off is slim to none, he closes the gap and crouches beside your chair, putting the two of you at more equal height.
“I know this is…tricky territory for you,” he murmurs with a gentle brush to your stocking-clad knee with his thumb. Emily has the grace to make herself appear busy in order to award the two of you a modicum of privacy; Penelope and Derek have no such qualms and watch in awe, “nothing has to change. Or everything can change. We can drop it all together; this doesn’t have to be anything. Whatever you want.”
Derek thinks you might start crying, which has him both intrigued and alarmed. He’s saved from having to decide how to navigate an emotional you by JJ, Hotch, and Rossi descending the stairs into the bullpen.
“We’ve got a case.” Hotch announces at the same time JJ asks “what’s going on?”
“Ah, good; have you finally told my daughter that the two of you are dating, kid?” Rossi sighs in that way that only a tired and fond father can, barely sparing your…boyfriend(?) or his own daughter’s completely affronted expression a second glance as he breezes towards the conference room.
“Everyone knew?” You nearly wheeze.
“I think you’re the only one who didn’t, nepo baby.”
“Morgan.” Hotch reprimands, seeing the rest of the team quickly shuffle into the conference room. He does, however, spare you and Spencer a quick, proud, quirk of his lips that could possibly be misconstrued as an infamous Hotch almost-smile. “It’s about time, though.”
chapter cws:
graphic descriptions of: murder, general physical harm
other cws for: disturbing thoughts, grief, parental trauma, mental illness, unreliable narrator, canon divergent plot (in terms of Krystall Richards), reader is Krystall's son, male!reader
(Note: I will post a series cw list once the first chapter is done along with individual ones for each chapter. Also if you think I need to add any cws please feel free to comment and I'll get them added!)
moodboard
It got easier, the more he did it.
Whether it was his strength improving, or muscle memory, he wasn’t sure. But still here he is now, a year into this endeavour. The first time was an accident, he’d told himself, but deep down he knew it wasn’t. Deep down he’d craved for years to get revenge on the man who had ruined him- who had left him with no chance because he wasn’t the one he wanted. He shouldn’t have survived, so he was going to make his life hell in return.
The grave he’d stood at was small, kept in a garden with other tiny plaques and memorial pebbles- anything that could fit a name and one date on it. 28 years. An older brother that he never met, and yet for all 25 of those 28 years he’d lived through, he’d been reminded that brother was everything he’d never be-
“Richards.” A voice ripped him from his thoughts, a bored and uninterested tone accompanying the tired look on his coworker’s face. He stares blankly, clearly there was a question he hadn’t heard, and was about to hear again. “I asked how your weekend was.”
A shrug is the only answer she gets. Not that that was anything new, he wasn’t the talkative type, which was precisely why he worked on a tech team. Less people, less interaction, less annoyance. In the time it had taken him to raise and drop his shoulders, the woman across from him had started up her daily rant about her husband and how he refused to pull his weight around the house, how she hated him but not enough to leave him because of the kids. Richards scoffed slightly, earning a pause from the unhappy wife. Fathers were a constant thought in his mind, something he both despised and craved, like picking open the same wound over and over again till it scars so deep you’re changed forever. Not some pigmented reminder of the past, but a deep, ragged fissure that goes almost to bone. Something that can’t be hidden. That’s what his father had done to him, and he wasn’t even there.
So was it better to lose a father who was useless when he was there? Or never have one and live knowing you aren’t wanted? Does it hurt less to look him in the eye when he chooses to take no responsibility?
Well, he thought it was better to save those kids the trouble. It was better to watch the panic in their eyes, watch the pain and tears and hear their pleading, suddenly so ready to be a father now it was life or death. They’d thank him one day, he was sure of it, and one day he’d get to see that panic in the eyes of the man who made him this in the first place- who had written so many times of sons scorned by fathers that turned to pain and death to cope, not once thinking of the baby boy he’d abandoned before he even got the chance to live happily. This was his fault. Those men could’ve lived, those kids would have had a chance too, but he was selfish. How unfortunate, truly.
The rest of the work day drags disgustingly slowly until finally he’s in his car, scanning the lot to watch his coworker get into her shitty beat up minivan. The licence plate was scribbled on a note in his pocket, having taken it down this morning, all he’d have to do is send it to one of his…friends…and they’d get him her address with the right payment. Soon enough that worthless piece of shit she’d married would be gone. If she knew his plans, she’d thank him. That’s what he told himself. Every single time.
Hi can you possibly do one where our beautiful Derek Morgan finds out that the girl he’s been dating is Rossi or hotch’s daughter and (whoever you choose) finds out they’re together? She’s a dance performer and she invites them both without their knowing? If that makes sense. 😁
"Dad," You gush, lunging for Dave when he rounds the corner backstage, "You came!"
"I made Aaron give us the night off," He grins at you, the aforementioned unit chief trailing after him with a bouquet of tulips, "Sweetheart, you were amazing!"
"Thank you," You gush, tilting your face so that your father can kiss your cheek and grinning sweetly at Aaron when he passes you the flowers, "You found a babysitter for Jack?"
"JJ took him," He mentions another member of their team, one that you've heard about but haven't met yet. Your dad tries not to surround you with his practice, but you hear things every so often.
"I've never seen anyone move like that," Your dad insists, pride etched into the lines of his face, "I mean my legs hurt just watching you."
You're about to quip something back about his brittle bones, but Aaron's face sours.
"Yeah, apparently the guy a few rows ahead of us has never seen anyone move like that before either."
Dave's face turns down similarly, almost a sneer, "He was a creep."
The words feel clunky in your mouth but you say them anyways, slightly flattered to have had such a reactive audience member, "I'm pretty sure that was my boyfriend. He said he'd be here tonight."
Before your father can echo an incredulous, 'Boyfriend?', the man strides around the corner with a comically large bouquet. His smile is as blinding as it always is as it lands on you, but his eyes widen when he notices who you're with.
"Derek!" You stuff the tulips into your father's hands, dashing towards him and practically leaping into his arms. He greets you with a much less enthusiastic hug than you're used to, and you peer up at his face to see him shock-stricken. His arms are tightened around your shoulders, but barely, and he gapes at your comapny.
"Morgan?" Your dad stands, bewildered.
"Rossi." Derek stammers, "And- and Hotch."
"You know each other?" You glance wearily between the three, all stony faces and blazing eyes.
"We work with him," Aaron stiffens, "You're dating Rossi's daughter, Morgan?"
"Rossi's daughter?" Your boyfriend parrots, staring down at you, mouth-agape, "But- but you said your last name was Martin!"
"It was my mom's," You shrug, hands braced on his chest where you give a firm pat, though he's still frozen, mortified. "Hey, now I can start bringing you all lunch at work!"
Summary: Spencer falls in love with Dave Rossi’s adopted daughter
Word Count: 2038
Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of brutal case, mentions of death of parents, that’s it. it’s mostly fluff
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” -Anton Chekhov
~
Spencer was leaning over Emily’s desk, helping her with some details of her paperwork. He glanced up and noticed a beautiful woman briefly talking to Anderson before entering through the glass doors.
“Reid. Reid!” Emily said, snapping her fingers to get his attention.
“What? Oh, sorry.”
Emily shook her head. “And just like that, 187 gets slashed to 60.”
The woman walked over to the desk with the two. “Uh, hi,” you said. “Is Dave Rossi here?”
“Oh, um, he should be here. Did you- do you have a meeting with him?” Spencer asked.
“Kind of,” you said with a small laugh that made Spencer’s stomach flutter. “I’m-”
“(Y/N)!” Hotch said when he saw you.
“Aaron!”
Emily and Spencer exchanged glances as you gave Aaron a brief hug.
“Are you here to see your dad?” he asked you.
“Yeah, is he here?”
“He should be in his office. How long are you in town?”
“Just the weekend,” you said. “But I’m coming back in June for vacation.”
“Well, I’ll let you go see your dad,” Hotch said. As you walked up the stairs, he turned to see Spencer gawking at you. Emily looked at Hotch apologetically. Hotch sighed and said, “Reid, focus on your paperwork, not (Y/N) Rossi.”
~
You knocked on the office door, waiting to hear your father’s voice.
“Come in!” You pushed open the door and your adoptive father’s face lit up. “Tesorina!” he said, getting up to kiss your cheeks. “I was wondering when you were getting in. How’s work? And what about that boyfriend of yours? Anything-”
“Dad,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know at dinner. But you promised you’d introduce me to your team the next time I was in town.”
“I did promise that, didn’t I?” he said, pushing up from his desk. He slung his arm around your shoulder and steered you out of his office. The team was gathered in the bullpen, and they all turned to face Rossi when he cleared his throat. “Guys, this is my daughter, (Y/N).” He then introduced each team member to you, save for Aaron.
“Wow, Rossi, I didn’t know you even had a daughter,” Morgan said.
“Gee, Dad, you don’t talk about me to your coworkers? I’m hurt,” you said, pressing your hand over your heart.
Rossi rolled his eyes. “Drama queen.”
“So, you’re a Rossi?” Emily asked you.
“Not biologically. Dave adopted me when I was five,” you explained.
“Initially, I was just fostering her for a little while, but I fell in love with this little rascal,” he said, ruffling your hair.
You set about fixing your hair. “Well, I gotta run. See you at the house for dinner?”
“Yeah, I should be done around 6. Don’t get into trouble.”
“Me, get into trouble? When have I ever been known to do that?” You shot a wink at the man you now knew to be Dr. Reid before leaving the BAU.
Spencer’s cheeks turned pink and he felt Rossi’s eyes on him. He looked down at his desk, busying himself with organizing his pen cup. When he heard Rossi’s office door close, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
Derek rolled his chair over to Spencer’s desk. “You’re looking a little flushed there, Pretty Boy. That wouldn’t have anything to do with Ms. Rossi, would it?”
“Shut up, Morgan,” he muttered, focusing on folding a small piece of paper on his desk into even smaller squares.
~
Dave walked into his house (mansion) to the smell of garlic bread and tomato sauce. He smiled and set his coat on the rack by the door.
“You know, I would have cooked!” he called as he made his way to the kitchen. You were setting the table for the both of you.
“Yes, but how often do you actually cook?” you asked him as you poured two glasses of red wine. “You’re always away on cases, I know how much fast food and takeout you eat. Now shut up and enjoy my carbonara.”
Dave chuckled and sat down at the table across from you. “So, how’s work going?” he asked you.
You shrugged. “You know, there’s good days and bad days. We had a brother and his little sister get adopted together this week, which is always one of the big wins for us.”
He nodded. “What about that boyfriend of yours, Chad?”
“Oh, we broke up,” you said. “About a month ago.”
“Good, I didn’t really like him.”
“Dad, you say that about every guy I date.”
“And it’s true, I haven’t liked any of the guys you’ve dated.”
“Yeah, the only guys you’ve liked have been the ones you’ve tried to set me up with.”
“That’s not true!”
“Dad, remember Stephen?”
“I thought you would be a good match, honest. And before you say it, it’s not just because I’m overly protective.”
“So, we can admit you’re overprotective of me?” you said.
“Of course I am. And can you blame me?”
“I guess not,” you said with a shrug. “And you could be worse. I could still be living here.”
“Oh, come on. Would that be so bad, having a huge house mostly to yourself?”
“Well, no, but I like living in Pennsylvania,” you said. “And I like having an apartment.” Your father gave you a skeptical look. “Stop profiling me.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to turn it off.” He took a sip of his wine. “You’re planning to go to the cemetery tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“I do every year, you know that.”
“Yeah. They’d be so proud of you, you know.”
You smiled down at your plate and pushed the pasta around. “I know. I, uh, I don’t have many memories of them anymore,” you said. “But the one I’ve been trying to get rid of is still there.”
Dave reached across the table and grabbed your hand. “Hey. Your parents loved you, so much. That’s all you need to remember, okay? They loved you so much that they sacrificed themselves for you.”
“Yeah.”
You lost your parents when you were five. There was a serial killer in the Greater DC Area, a family annihilator. He’d called himself the Orphan Maker. The man would seek out young families with kids no older than 8 and kill the parents first, in front of the children. Then he would kill the children.
Rossi had been on that case, and had found that your family was the next target. Unfortunately, they did not get to your family before the man killed your parents. But fortunately, they caught him before he could get you.
Rossi felt guilty they didn’t make it in time. When the law officers found that you didn’t have any family to take you in, Dave offered to bring you home. The plan was to originally just be a foster parent to you until CPS found a place for you to stay officially. But he fell in love with you. You were a little spitfire, a little troublemaker. Dave adopted you and dedicated the rest of his life to taking care of you and protecting you.
~
“Hey, Rossi!” Morgan said as he met the man in the kitchen to get coffee. “How was your weekend with (Y/N)?”
Rossi noticed Reid’s back straighten at the mention of (Y/N)’s name. He smiled to himself, a plan forming in his head. It was a bit of a convoluted plan, but it would work out for everyone in the end.
“Oh, it was fine. She made me watch an episode of that show Reid and Garcia like.” He glanced over at Spencer’s desk and noticed he was listening intently. “I agreed since she’s still recovering from a recent breakup.”
“Is she okay?” Derek asked. “I know breakups can really suck.”
“She’ll be okay, she bounces back quick. I didn’t like the guy anyway. He was a meathead jock who thought being the high school quarterback was his entire personality. I want her to find a guy who’s smart and kind, someone I like.” He walked out of the kitchenette and passed Reid’s desk. He clapped his shoulder. “Morning, Reid.”
~
You were back in the area for a week-long vacation, and Dave had promised to go sight-seeing in DC with you.
You walked into the bullpen and were greeted by Penelope, who had quickly become your friend. She wrapped you in a hug before Rossi made his way over to you.
“Hey, Dad. You ready to go?” you asked after giving him a hug.
“Um, actually, I have to work late. But, you know, Dr. Reid here,” Spencer’s head snapped up from where he was packing his bag at the mention of his name, “knows more about the area than anyone I know. He can show you around. Right, Reid?”
Spencer looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.”
You smiled at him and Spencer felt the butterflies that were already in his stomach go crazy. The two of you walked out of the office, Spencer nervously gripping the strap of his bag while you walked alongside him.
Penelope looked at Rossi narrowing her eyes. “You don’t have to work late.”
Rossi smiled. “No.”
Penelope gasped. “You’re trying to set them up, aren’t you?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Rossi said before walking back to his office.
~
“So, Dr. Reid,” you said as the two of you walked out of the FBI building, “I heard you’re a huge Doctor Who fan.”
Spencer turned to look at you, losing his footing and tripping on the sidewalk. He straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “You, uh, you can call me Spencer. And yeah, I’m-I’m a fan.”
You smiled and Spencer thought the sun had come out again with the brightness you radiated. “Who’s your favorite? Personally, I’m a Tennent girl, but Baker is a close second.” Spencer was staring at you, his jaw dropped. “What?”
“You might be the hottest girl I’ve ever met.”
~
When Spencer woke up, the first thing he noticed was the beautiful woman asleep next to him, her head on his bare chest. He smiled and ran his hand through your hair as you started stirring.
“Morning,” he said as you looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.
“Morning, Pretty Boy.” You saw his smile falter and his eyes go wide. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so fired,” he said. “I slept with my boss’s daughter. I’m so fired. No, I’m more than fired. I’m dead. Rossi is going to kill me.”
“Hey. Spence, breathe,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “He’s not going to do anything to you. And if he tries, he’ll face my wrath.”
Spencer chuckled. “Well, after that guy drove through that puddle and splashed you last night, I believe it.” He was silent for a moment as the two of you sat up in the bed. Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. “What are you going to tell him when you go home?”
You shrugged, leaning your head back. “The truth. I got to know a sweet guy last night and I stayed the night at his place.”
Spencer smiled and gave you a soft kiss.
~
You slipped into the Rossi Manor, feeling like a teenager missing curfew again. You got about halfway through the kitchen before hearing Dave clear his throat. You spun around to see him standing by the kitchen island with a cup of coffee.
“Oh, uh, morning, Dad.”
“So, you were out all night.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re wearing the same clothes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who is he?” When you didn’t answer, he said, “Spencer?”
Your face paled. “How did-”
“You didn’t really think you could hide that from an old profiler, did you?” He handed you the mug. “Don’t worry, I approve. I’d be more than happy to have Spencer as a son.”
“Dad!”
~
“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.” - J.R.R. Tolkien
starring: Rossi!reader, Emily Prentiss
featuring: Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau
synopsis: Emily is bored & has a question for the team's nepo baby
A/N: concept w/ @unstablereader. reader is Rossi's daughter [mother unknown] & grew up in the Bureau. there's no ship? per se? so you can pretend it's anyone tbh
The ambient noise consists of the vibrations of the jet’s engines, the circulation of recycled air, and pages being flipped – pages which vary greatly from Hotch’s case files, Reid’s tome sized book in its original language, and your trashy magazine – after the case thus far was discussed and dissected to the team’s full potential.
And Emily is bored.
She’s tried sighing a few times which did little more than elicit sideways glances from both JJ and Morgan – a considerable feat considering they both had headphones in. She’s even tried challenging Reid to a game of chess.
She’s left with but one option.
“Y/N,” she announces; the majority of the plane looking up at the intrusion of their quiet to look at her. The only sign you’ve heard her, though, it the way your brows raise imperceptibly where they remain pointing down at your magazine, “fuck, marry, kill: Reid, Morgan, Hotch.”
Morgan whistles and JJ snickers, but Hotch looks up with a very pointed frown. “Prentiss; unprofessional.”
“Duly noted, sir.” She agrees readily before turning back towards you. “Y/N? What say you?”
You smirk as you finally look up at Emily.
“Em, what is it about me that strikes you as the type of girl who would ever have to choose?” You respond salaciously, earning more cheers and jeers from the group as your father audibly rolls his eyes.
“Nepo baby gets what nepo baby wants.” Morgan purrs, though he’s smiling at you in the way Emily knows translates to this is all in good fun.
You seem to read it for what it is, too. “Damn straight.”
“Who raised you?” Rossi sighs; the question meant to be rhetorical.
“You did.” Reid responds helpfully. “Though I suppose if we take into account the common saying that it takes a village to raise a child, it would be more accurate to state that the two most stable figures in Y/N’s life were you and Gideon. Basically, she was raised by the BAU.”
“So that’s what’s wrong with me.” You muse.
“So you really won’t choose?” JJ presses, headphones officially folded up in her lap as she dedicates herself completely to the conversation.
“Do I have to?”
“Not if you’d like to keep your job.” Hotch sighs under his breath, though loud enough for everyone to hear it.
“You can’t fire me.” You tease Hotch. “I have seniority here.”
“Pretty girl, having been ushered from precinct to precinct from the age of six months old doesn’t give you seniority.” Morgan admonishes.
You and Rossi both furrow your brows at him as you respond in tandem. “Yes it does.”
“Y/N, you cannot have three husbands, you have to choose one.” Rossi instructs.
“Why? You had three wives.” You counter.
“Not at the same time, bella.”
“Hey, the girl knows what she wants; I respect that.” Morgan defends you, earning him an appreciative smile from you and a derisive scoff from your father.
“You must get that from your mother.”
“Actually, recent studies have suggested that children – daughters, in particular – are more likely to imitate the dating patterns of their fathers. While they don't inherit their fathers' dating habits in a literal, genetic sense, by observing their fathers' behavior in relationships, daughters learn about the dynamics of love, commitment, and expectations in relationships.” Reid rattles off, smiling contentedly to himself before he looks up to notice the team staring at him.
“Great,” you sigh sardonically, “so I can expect multiple failed marriages in my future.”
Reid bounces his head back and forth in a so-so fashion. “Well if you plan on marrying me, Hotch, and Morgan, the chances of at least two of those marriages failing is quite high.”
You lean forward almost predatorily as you smile at the doctor.
“Oh? And any thoughts on which of those marriages might fail, Doctor Reid?”
But Reid hardly opens his mouth to respond before Rossi is sitting up straighter in his chair. “No, no. No.”
“Dibs on being husband number three.” Derek proclaims.
“Marry any of them and I’ll get uncle Jason involved.” Rossi threatens, though it seems to have the opposite effect on you.
“Please; who do you think is walking Hotch down the aisle?”
Hotch, for his part, turns to you with his signature scowl somehow impossibly deeper. You beam at him in response.
“So, Rossi, how many weddings should we expect from Rossi Junior here if she’s gonna take after her old man?” Emily goads, turning the attention back to him.
“What are you at now, dad? Seven?” You add, faux innocence painting your features as you bat your lashes at him.
“I’ve only been married three times and you know that.”
“Only.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes.
“Are you happy now, Prentiss?” Hotch deadpans as he levels Emily with an unimpressed glare.
“Very, sir.” Emily agrees, leaning back in her chair and enjoying the sight of you and your father rapidly switching between English and Italian as the two of you volley insults and arguments alike.
hi idk if you’re in the mood to write criminal minds but I’ve been thinking about the whole “Steve hears that all the time and still goes in” and big dick Harrington being confirmed and I can’t help but think it would be hilarious and also work decently well for Spencer and/or Hotch. Feel free to disregard tho if you’re not writing for them anymore! Love u!
hahaa this request made me laugh immediately when reading. i couldn't really make this very long or detailed but i hope i did it justice! <3
Aaron Hotchner x Rossi!reader who is toeing the line [769 words]
CW: dirty jokes, Rossi's adult daughter works for the BAU [mother unknown], crack/humour
You are very, very good at your job, there’s no two ways about it. You wouldn’t be working at the BAU if you were anything less than extraordinary.
But…if there was one member of the team who could be considered a personality hire, it would probably be you.
Your dad might come close, but being one of the founding fathers of the unit means he’s a little too well-ingrained in the bureaucracy to truly be worthy of the title.
Perhaps it's only because you are so good at your job that you can get away with half of the shit you pull. Still, you think you might be toeing the line.
You count your blessings that this one happens outside of working hours.
“And it’s made to scale,” your dad announces proudly, either ignorant to or ignoring the way Hotch narrows his eyes at him.
“Why?” is all your unit chief manages to ask.
“Because my favourite, honorary godson only turns seven once, and I aim to please.”
“He would’ve been happy with a train set, Rossi,” Emily laughs.
“No one would be happy with a train set, Prentiss,” he counters.
Spencer’s brows furrow. “I would’ve been happy with a train set.”
“Perfect,” you drawl, shooting a wink at the genius. “Now I know what to get you for your birthday.”
“Where do you even buy a life size storm trooper and Darth Vader?” Derek asks with a smarmy grin, clearly loving how this is ruffling Hotch’s feathers. You have no complaints; he looks particularly handsome when ruffled.
“Online auction.”
“And where am I supposed to store these things?” Hotch finally asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That’s sort of not my problem, Aaron,” your dad replies with a smile.
”Wait? How’d you get it here?” Spencer chimes in.
Your dad swallows his sip of wine before responding. “It’s being delivered.”
“Delivered how?”
Your dad furrows his brows at him. “By a delivery service?”
Spencer sighs. “No, I mean, how is it going to get in here?”
You all share a look.
“Spencer, I’m not sure how beautiful, super model genius doctors move through life, but most of us enter homes through doors,” you supply as you pop a grape in your mouth.
“That won’t work for the Darth Vader and storm trooper statues,” he continues, apparently unaffected by your wiles.
“Why not?” Hotch asks, arms crossed in front of his chest which defines his muscles beautifully. You think he should wear those polos to work; he’s formidable as ever in his well-pressed suits, but the local police might actually balk if they could only see his forearms.
Spencer jumps into an explanation, excitement at knowing and being listened to evident in the way he blooms in his seat.
“Both statues come with a large platform to keep them stable; Rossi said he bought it pre-assembled which means the platform is likely already secured to the statue. The storm trooper might manage, but it stands at approximately seven feet tall and weighs anywhere from 40 to 120 pounds, depending on the quality of the material they’re made from. Darth Vader will be taller at almost eight feet tall, and his lightsaber and cape will cause extra issues. Hotch’s front door is approximately 36 inches wide and 80 inches tall.”
Everyone shares another look.
“Okay, so, let's try that again in English this time,” Derek says.
Spencer’s brows furrow. “That…was in English.”
”Dumb it down for us,” Prentiss translates.
He considers his next words carefully. “It’s too big. It won’t fit.”
You seize the moment. “Hotch hears that all the time and goes in anyway, don’t you, Hotch?”
Emily chokes on her sip, Derek breaks out into loud laughter, JJ looks over her shoulder to ensure the kids didn’t hear your nonsense, and your father mutters who raised you? into his wine glass.
And Hotch? Hotch glares at you. Except it’s not a very good glare; the tips of his ears are red and you swear you notice a twinkle of humour shining in his deep, dark eyes.
“Why are you the way that you are?” he asks you.
“Are you complaining, sir?”
“Yes,” he deadpans. “Constantly. HR won’t do a thing.”
“Is it because-”
“You have seniority?” He finishes for you, a smirk finally dancing on his lips. “It has to be.”
You hum in acknowledgement, slipping off the kitchen stool and brushing up behind him on your way to refill your wine glass. “Better luck next time, chief.”
Hotch lets out a great, heaving sigh like you’re the bane of his existence.
Spencer Reid x Rossi!reader who struggles with this whole relationship thing [740 words]
prompt: Spencer x Rossi!reader who is afraid of being in a serious relationship (especially with Spencer because how much she cares about him and how deeply ingrained he is in her life) because all of her past relationships used her to get close to Rossi/fbi for different reasons.
CW: no gender markers used for reader but it's written with Rossi's daughter in mind, mentions abandonment issues and commitment issues, fluff
Your mind is a cacophony of noise and nonsense, and Spencer Reid is to blame.
Perhaps that’s not fair; it’s not really him who’s to blame. But it’s definitely your mother, maybe your father and his frivolous relationship patterns, and probably a few of your more manipulative ex-boyfriends. But definitely not Spencer’s.
You should apologize to him for deigning to think such a thing.
But then the tendrils of a familiar panic worm their way up your spine and close around your throat leaving your back end glued to the rolling desk chair you’re seated in.
There are no words that accompany your dread; no cruel one liners delivered to you, no final blow that does you in. You’re simply left sitting here on the opposite side of the bullpen – an intentional move on Hotch’s part once you and Spencer officially started dating which feels like it’s very own attack against the recesses of your soul – hoping you don’t look as panic stricken and longing as you feel.
You must fail – which should have been expected when you’re surrounded by behavioural experts – seeing your phone buzz across your desk, the vibration echoing in your ribs.
Spencer: Do you want to try that Thai place tonight?
You chance a look up at him to see him furrowing his brows down at the phone in his lap as though it personally victimized him. You’re sure it has; his fondness of you overriding his disdain for technology sees him using the less obvious uses of a mobile phone with more frequency. You feel extra shame at blaming him for the dissonance plaguing your mind.
Spencer: It’s interesting, actually. Pad Thai is actually a more recent creation by a osrt9
“Shit.” You catch the whisper from across the bullpen as Spencer continues typing furiously. You end up smiling at your own lap like a fool.
Spencer: sorry. Pad thai was created by politician Plaek Phibunsongkhram in the second World War. It came from his concern about the high rice consumption, so it was a dual endeavour of nationalism and battling the region's overconsumption of rice. Though the rice noodles used as an alternative are actually Chinese in origin.
You type and then back space a number of times, unsure of how to respond or if you even deserve to at all.
Spencer: You’re perfect and I love you.
Spencer: You have nothing to be concerned about. Not with me.
You shake your head in fond exasperation; read to filth from an entire room away without having uttered a single word or worry.
You: yk you don’t have to share fun facts with me every time I’m anxious, right?
You: I think even you’d manage to run out eventually if you tried.
Spencer: Statistically impossible. Plus I managed to get a smile out of you, so I’d say that was a success.
You: I love you too, btw.
Spencer: Are you still anxious?
You: I’m worried a part of me always will be.
Spencer: Then I’m happy to always remind you.
You’re interrupted from smiling at your phone by Hotch calling you from the bridge outside his office.
“You’re still on track to discuss those reports in an hour?”
It’s a gentle albeit public redirection at having been caught clearly on your phone, but Spencer has imbued a bit of confidence back into you that has lacked since finding yourself shockingly in a committed (dry heave) relationship, seeing you ultimately lean back in your chair lackadaisically and flip your phone in your hand as you smile up at your boss.
“You can just say you miss me, Hotch. No need to set false pretenses for the audience; they all know.”
Derek snorts into his coffee cup and Emily mutters a slightly panicked ‘Jesus’ under her breath.
“Your position here is constantly under review, Junior.” He threatens playfully, the ghost of a smirk evident on his face as he turns back towards his office.
“I keep telling you, Hotch, you can’t fire me. I-”
“Have seniority, yes yes, we all know, Nepo-baby.” Derek chuckles with a fond shake of his head.
Spencer: I don’t think the opposite of anxious is supposed to be audacious but I’m glad you’re feeling better.
You’re feeling better than better, you think to yourself with a smile as you organize your case files for your meeting with Hotch. In fact, you think you might be feeling perfect.
