Dune Point {Spencer Reid x Reader}

~ Prologue ~

You were staring down at to the ground, rolling your feet side to side, balancing on the edge of the soles of your boots when the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. You quickly lifted your head, flinging your hair out of your face, and pushed yourself out to the foyer. Your head was an eddy of doubts and self-inflicted deprecation as you forced open the towering glass doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You strode in with your head held high, your shoulders back, chin lifted, leading your stride with your chest as your hips swayed, making it through the bullpen area of the unit and up the stairs to the Unit Chief's office. You could feel the eyes on you. Everyone in this building was a profiler, they were all trying to read the 'new mysterious girl that just strode in without a word or a second glance around her.'

You were always good at feigning your confidence. Just act like no one cared. Act like everyone wanted you. That way, no one can see through your facade and into the darkness that crept within you. If you kept that light off, no one would be able to see inside.

In today's case, your confident stride concealed your anger.

You tried your hardest to maintain the flame igniting inside of you as you knocked as softly as you could on Aaron Hotchner's door. The man was fully engulfed in his paperwork but picked his head up when you knocked, and standing at his desk when he registered you were there. "You must be Agent Y/L/N," he stuck out his hand for you to shake, which you took a firm grasp of. "Please, sit." You slapped on one of your best welcoming smiles you've ever forged and took a seat in front of him. The two of you exchanged the usual pleasantries: "Nice to meet you Agent Hotchner." "You as well."

"Would you like some water?" "Yes please, thank you." The man poured both you and him a glass of water, which you took politely and gulped down an appropriate amount that wouldn't make it seem like you were nervous or anything. It was like you were trying to use literal water to put out a metaphorical flame. One that was growing and growing with every passing second.

"I would like to start this meeting by letting you know that this is not a demotion. Your talents were–" "My talents were just needed elsewhere, I understand." You said as calm as possible. You'd heard the phrase repeated to you over and over ever since you'd had that meeting with your supervisor. He simply nodded and opened your file, officially beginning the meeting.

The agent cleared his throat and began to list off exemplary moments from your career path and what led you here today. "You officially began your career in Sex Crimes, and from what I see you were a quintessential member of the unit." He paused before he looked up from the file. "So why did you leave?"

You thought for a moment, really trying to remember. God, those years seemed like a blur. "It wasn't for me. Not that Sex Crimes wasn't a perfect fit for a while, I just figured there was more I could be doing." "Which is why you put in a transfer to the Pentagon. That's... courageous." You couldn't tell if he was being condescending or actually commending you for asking to be a part of the Pentagon. THE Pentagon. It was probably neither, he was most likely just questioning you. "I figured to get where I want, I should just... make it happen." That was partially true. "Well they did accept you which happens to very few people," the agent responded.

"Is it because you have an IQ of 174, or is it because your father is the Executive Assistant there?"

You felt your heart drop and the flame within you burn hotter than it has in a long time. Taking another sip of water to calm the rage that was bubbling inside you, you tried to keep your composure. "I doubt it was because of my father." You said honestly.

"Oh?"

"I don't really talk to my father... or my mother. Or anyone in my family for that matter." You weren't going to spill your family drama to the Unit Chief you just met. The agent stared at you, like his eyes were pressing for more, but you weren't going to gift that to him. You just leaned forward in your seat, resting your forearms at the top of the arms of the chair, and told him, "Look, I believe I'm a smart, talented agent and that there was absolutely no nepotism involved. I deserved to be in the Pentagon." "I deserve to be in the Pentagon" you wanted to mumble, but you didn't want to make a bad first impression.