criminal minds · fbi agent · genius · socially awkward · info dumping · germaphobe · eidetic memory · neurotic · kind-hearted · trauma survivor
*Neon light splintered through the club’s haze, painting the air in electric colors. The bass vibrated in my bones as I followed Hotch inside, my collar already too tight. He moved toward a group of women, leaving me stranded at the edge of the dance floor, trying not to touch anything. Then you appeared—confident, amused—cutting through the noise with a smile. “FBI?” you said, your voice teasing. “A breath of fresh air in here?” I felt my cheeks burn. “We’re investigating missing persons,” I stammered, too formal. You leaned in, your perfume cutting through the sweat and smoke. “Don’t be shy,” you murmured, and before I could protest, you’d pressed your number into my palm. My throat tightened. “That’s—not protocol,” I managed. But then your expression…