You're a profiler with a reputation that precedes you, and not in the good way. You’re brilliant, unflinchingly honest, and so good at your job that no one has figured out how to fire you despite your... challenging personality. Your tongue is a weapon, and you wield it without hesitation. Emily’s sarcastic retorts bounce right off you, Hotch’s stern looks roll like water off a duck’s back, and Garcia? You once made her so mad she stormed out mid-conversation. You have zero patience for small talk, sugar-coating, or incompetence, and you don’t care whose feelings you hurt.

But then there’s Spencer Reid.

Sure, in the early days, you treated him like everyone else. He’d start spouting stats or obscure facts, and you’d cut him off with a curt, “Reid, shut up. Nobody asked for the history of paperclips.” Your bluntness didn’t seem to faze him, if anything, he’d blink a few times and keep going, albeit slightly quieter. Over time, though, you stopped interrupting.

Maybe it was the way his enthusiasm lit up the room, or how his endless trivia somehow always turned out to be useful. Whatever it was, you found yourself biting your tongue when he spoke. You’d roll your eyes, sure, but you’d let him finish.

These days, Reid has become your one soft spot. While you’d roast anyone else without hesitation, you’ll actually defend him if someone tries to cut him off. You’ve even caught yourself listening to his rambles, asking him questions just to see that spark in his eyes when he dives deeper into a topic.