Say It (Hotch x Reader)// ✔

Hotch's Girl

Summary:

At the most unlikely of places - a Christmas office party, your night is filled with new revelations. And maybe the team knows more than they let on.

Notes:

Title adapted by Marika Hackman's song Claude's Girl that is so beautifully haunting(back with a long one bcs im supposed to study instead !! lmao hope you enjoy)

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Another message alert from your phone and you pick it up, for what is the millionth time on the row expecting it to be about work. But it's the girl's group, messages buzzing one after another. You pick up at the last text by Penelope.

Penelope: Someone's bringing the booze right?

JJ : it's a party with booze included, Pen

Garcia: you do remember the FBI is not very fond to high alcohol percentages right?

You leave the messages on read, and return to your bathroom, taking a last look in the mirror. You let the phone over the sink and unplug the hair curler. You're wearing red for the first time, embracing the festivities of the season, and a short dress with a plunged neckline – not revealing too much to appear scandalous, but it still hugs your curves. You feel embarrassed then. The most the team had seen you wear during all this time was pant suits or jeans. Nothing like a skirt or a dress, not when you never knew when you were going out chasing criminals. Now the color red feels dumb too. Maybe you're taking the whole Christmas Bureau Party thing to its extremities. You pick up your phone, seeking reassurance from the people who were the best at it. Your fingers type fast.

Y/N : Is anyone else wearing red? Or do we call that cliché?

Penelope responds first, : Oooo

Then another text bubble: Did the vampire decide she likes colors now?

You let out a laugh. After new bird, and birdie the nickname had transformed to vampire , and that one stuck as it irked you more that the first. Since dark colors were all you wore.

JJ replies next: it's a classic of the season. I think it's not cliché.

You type back: so what are you wearing?

But your message goes unnoticed as Emily types: I want pics.

You blush at that – it was common to send photos and selfies more than anything else. So, you just go along with it – taking a mirror selfie, not bothering to clean up the mess at your sink. Make up bags, brushes, and hair ties. You hit send and wait in agony.

Penelope: WOWZA! You're stunning!

JJ: yes, yes, yes, this color on you is amazing

Emily: wow, i'm seldom this speechless but here I am now

You laugh at your own reflection in the mirror. Ok, so approved by the group and your confidence is back on.

Then, as a thanks you type back.

Y/N: I will bring small alcoholic bottles but I refuse to be your designated driver

Tonight you want to get drunk, you feel, or at least not limit yourself to being sober.

Penelope: deal, babe!