Summary: Agent Hotchner just returned from a month of medical leave and after his first case with Dr. Scott, who was assigned to his team by his superiors without his knowledge, he informs her of his plans with her transfer to the BAU moving forward.
A/N: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY GREATEST LOVES, AARON HOTCHNER!! it’s already november 2 where i live and to celebrate, i thought i’d post a drabble of my hotch fic, sharp objects. i ended up writing two scenes and i’m posting them both!! i hope you enjoy them and please leave some feedback, thank you <3
Tag list: @yelenabolevas @chrissymunson @richitozier @delicateblackrose @arrthurpendragon @raith-way @claryxjackson @hiddenqveendom @decennia @lovehermioneforever @kendelias @waterloou @multifandom-oc-hell @come-along-pond @lizziesxltzmxn @maddies-buckley @bzzkills @cas-verse @foxesandmagic @issytrix @booty-boggins @reirvival (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)
“What?”
“I’m restarting the clock on your certification. I’ll be overseeing your training from now on,” he repeated in a much more authoritative tone ― if that was even possible ― and didn’t break eye contact. Hotch just watched as confusion filled her eyes and her lips went ajar.
Phoebe eventually scoffed. “I got that, sir. I meant...” she paused and gulped, composing herself so as to keep her professionalism, “Why? There’s no need for me to do it all over again for five hundred hours. Didn’t you speak with Morgan? He told me I was doing pretty good―”
“I’m not Morgan, Dr. Scott,” he interrupted. It sounded as though her name rolled off his tongue like poison, and he practically glared through her soul. “Yes, his evaluation of you will be greatly considered but at the end of the day, I’m team leader. I am the one responsible for this team. I’m the one who makes sure that everyone uses their skills and qualities in a way that best benefit this team as well as the bureau, and that they work well with everybody else. I’m the one who decides whether or not you can keep up with my team, do the work the way that we’ve always done it and actually do it well. I’m the one who decides whether or not you really belong here,” he finally paused, his words almost a warning. “I get the final say.”
Silence covered the already tension filled air as they stared back at each other, unsure of what the other is going to say after Hotch’s speech that felt a little dramatic (and redundant since she used to be the unit chief at her old office and knew exactly what he was talking about), but perhaps justifiable.
“If you did well with agent Morgan, then it will be in his report. I would, however, like to see you in training for myself, seeing as I already didn’t get to―”
“Do you?” she interrupted him this time, her expression blank as he raised an eyebrow at her. “All due respect, of course,” she added, almost with no regard whether her sarcasm was evident, “Do you get the final say?”
Hotch simply pressed his lips together.
“If you really have the final say, I wouldn’t even be here and we both know it,” she continued as though it wasn’t her boss she was talking to. “Here’s another thing we both know that you won’t admit; the brass wouldn’t have put me here if they didn’t think I belonged here. I’m more than qualified to have a position in this unit, agent Hotchner. I know you’ve been through quite a lot recently, and I know it seems like they took advantage of your absence by assigning me to your team without your say so, but I hope you’ll be professional enough that you won’t take your frustration out on me and give me the chance to prove to you that I deserve to be here.”
Phoebe kept her face straight as she finished her own speech; the momentary hint of pleading in her eyes caught by Hotch. They continued to stare at each other, although weirdly enough, this one felt a little less antagonistic.
She really didn’t want to be in the BAU; not at first, at least. It was just as dangerous as her last assignment, but she knew this would’ve cut off most of the time that she spent with her son, and Phoebe couldn’t afford that. Especially since he needs her now more than ever. But time went on and it felt like sign after sign was being dropped off her feet that it was time for her to come back, and when one in particular came directly from Danny, she knew she couldn’t not try it out.
And with how well things were going with the team (excluding Hotch), she has no regrets.
“Dr. Scott,” he sighed, finally trailing his eyes away from her as he sat down in his chair then leaned forward, hands intertwined on top of a couple of files. “This is your chance,” he informed her as his eyes found hers again, and what she had to do just so he wouldn’t hear her breath hitch. Fuck, she thought, I’m so fucked. “But if you don’t think I’m professional enough, or if you just don’t want to train under me―which is the only thing stopping you from certifying as a profiler―you can leave.” Hotch told her sincerely and even shrugged a couple of times, but she just looked at him in surprise. Did he seriously just quote me? “I’ll be more than happy to recommend you to whichever unit you’d like to transfer―”
“No!” Phoebe exclaimed, embarrassingly too loud and too eager that she had to subtly clear her throat and compose herself. “No, sir,” she repeated with a shake of her head, much more professional this time. But she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a small smile, “Getting rid of me isn’t gonna be that easy.”
Hotch smirked slightly, something so subtle that Phoebe just barely missed it as he dismissed her. She gave him a brief nod before she left him in the comfort of his office, and once the doors clicked shut, he couldn’t help but continue his paperwork in amusement.
Dr. Phoebe Scott belonged there, all right. The Behavioural Analysis Unit was like a huge puzzle with a missing piece, and she fit perfectly.
Warnings: language, sexual content and references, demon!Dean (please let me know if you think I need to add more!)
Summary: At an attempt to find some alone time to think, Izzy delivers her baked goods herself in Beulah, North Dakota, where she also finds her husband they’d been looking for for months.
A/N: Here’s the start of a series where I can dump all the scenarios I think of daily but don’t write because I’m not there yet™ in the fic and because I’m a perfectionist and like things in order,, anyway this is just so I don’t forget them and I also kinda like some of these so I might as well share them lol
Tag list: @yelenabolevas @lokitrasho @richitozier @delicateblackrose @perfectlystiles @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish @raith-way (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)
Gif credits: Jensen, Phoebe
“You think this is a joke?” Izzy said, offended and looking at him in disbelief. Dean clicked his tongue then eyed his naked wife up and down.
“I think this is hot.” He smirked when she rolled her eyes with a scoff and a shake of her head, his eyes still watching her with lust as she bent down to grab her undergarments. “We should do it again some time.”
“If you come home with me, maybe we will,” Izzy replied, her tone anything but playful as she searched for her bra; which somehow found its way underneath his shoulder blade. Taking notice, Dean immediately held it far from her reach as she went for it, prompting her to move closer to him. “Give it!”
“Nope. I’m not coming home with you, either. You and Sammy wanna bring me back, and...you see,” he paused, smiling smugly as both their eyes lingered back and forth to their lips and their hot breaths fanned each other’s faces. “That’s just not gonna work for me.”
Izzy stared at him for a moment before she aggressively yanked his arm down and snatched the gray fabric from his hand. Once she clasped it together, pulled her shirt over her head and down her torso, she sighed. “Then I guess I’m gonna have to take you by force.”
“Good luck with that, sweetheart.” He winked.
Just as she was about to make a move, the door opened and in walked Crowley, who halted at the sight of Izzy with a confused expression.
“Whoa,” he said, peeved, hands raised and brows furrowed.
““Whoa”? What’s going on here?” Crowley questioned, his posture a bit tense with the presence of the woman he lowkey feared since she long proved herself to be quite powerful and relentless; which can also be translated to her kicking his ass ― repeatedly ― not that he’d ever admit it. Though, now more than ever because he’s the reason her husband is a demon and he knows it. As if being in the path of her rage wasn’t scary enough, he’s now at the other end of it.
Dean looked down at himself and then at Izzy, moving his brows up and down with a smirk as he replied, “What’s it look like?”
“In my bed?”
“What―” Dean glanced behind him then back at Crowley, realization striking him, “Oh, yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders and made a face, annoying the latter even more.
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Izzy ignored their banter ― especially the last part, which honestly broke her heart a little ― and kept her eyes on Crowley, jaw and fists clenched. When he looked back at her, he froze for a moment, but definitely didn’t let it reflect on his face.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” she whispered as though it was the most normal thing ever, and he found himself feeling unsettled.
“Wifey, look―”
“I am gonna fucking kill your demon ass so bad―”
Dean groaned. “Get a room, you two.”
They both turned to look at him grinning, now in his shirt and his shirt only. Crowley made a couple of faces as he tried to look anywhere but there, lifting a hand to gesture. “Pants?” Dean rolled his eyes, unamused as he grabbed it from the floor. “You’re not taking him,” Crowley stated, looking back at Izzy.
“I know,” she mumbled through gritted teeth. She was unarmed, completely unprepared and, most of all, tired. Of all the scenarios she’s come up with of her seeing this version of Dean, letting him into her pants definitely wasn’t one of them ― but there they are. Even if she had the slightest chance of winning a fight against these two, it’d be to escape. “Not yet.”
Izzy continued to glare at him before locking eyes with Dean, who missed the glint of hurt in them as she stormed out of the room with her things.
Crowley raised his hands slightly with an incredulous look on his face. “What the hell are you doing? That was your wife.”
“I know,” Dean exclaimed smugly, almost in disbelief. “Man, I have good taste.”
“That’s―That’s not―” Crowley stopped himself and sighed in exasperation, his eyes rolling. “She could bring you back, Dean. We can’t let that happen, so you can’t...hang out with her.”
Dean tutted. “Would you chill out? I’m all good. She’s nothing to worry about. Besides,” he paused in front of him, “What’s a petty li’l witch gonna do to me, anyway?”
Crowley scoffed dramatically. “If you really are good, demon or not, that’s the last thing you’d say about your wife.”
