agent-ccarter

[agent-ccarter]

No words

Just a little taste

Summary: Bucky wasn't done with you, all he wants is one more taste.

Pairing: Needy Beefy Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral f receiving, maturation.

A/n: Written on my phone.

Bucky knows he can't spend all day between your thighs.

He knows that.

His rational brain also knows that you didn’t take away his sweet pussy on purpose.

He knows this.

But you still took her away from him.

Before he was done.

You know that your pussy belongs to him.

He knows that.

You give him something so sweet and good and tight and in return, he gives you intense orgasms. That’s the deal.

Which is why you can’t snatch his pretty pussy from him before he's done.

You know better.

Ten minutes ago.

“Love the way you ride me, peach, just like that, s’good” Bucky groans appreciatively, crystalline eyes mesmerized by the way you’re fucking yourself on his cock.

Pleasure wraps tight around his spine, your slick walls clamping down like a tight wet fist tighter and tighter with each roll of your hips.

Bucky can't stop staring at you, a litany of praises spilling from his lips, his words slurring together.

You’re so wet for me Peach and fuck you're tight.

Feel so good, you feel-fuck. S’good.

Taking me so fucking good.

You’re so close, so so close, the pressure in your belly is on the verge of snapping. Your hands splay on his warm, heaving chest, his own hands loosely curved around your hips. Letting you take control, waiting until you cum to split your pussy in two.

So close. You’re right there-

The familiar, annoying jingle of your impending zoom meeting cuts through the salacious sloshing and moaning.

You go still. Ignoring his frantic huff of dont stop, you grab his wrist and turn his black watch around.

The shrill tune continues. It's not noon. Nononono you have fifteen more minutes.

You are-were-so fucking close. A groan rumbles in your throat, resent replacing your ruined orgasm.

With a deep sigh, you look down at Bucky, pursing your lips apologetically. His finger, warm and cool, flex and grip your hips, desperation bleeding through his bruising hold.

“No peach,” he murmurs mournfully. “They can wait. I can’t.” He’s telling the truth. Bucky needs your pussy, his feral eyes focused on your joined bodies.

You don’t want to leave him but you have to. You climb off him, his large throbbing cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Bucky suppresses a whimper, his hand grabbing his cock, a poor replacement for your tight, wet heat.

He smears your slick over him, making a distressed sound in the back of his throat when you bend over to grab your discarded panties off the living room floor, giving him an unobstructed view of your pussy.

His tongue, wet and pink, reflexively lashes out across his swollen bottom lip, his mouth watering as he gazes at your glistening cunt. He balefully snatches your panties from your hands, his other hand firmly pumping his cock.

“Bucky,” you breathe, oh oh he's wrapping them around his cock, softly moaning your name. Your clit throbs at his sheer neediness for you.

Do you have to go to this meeting?

The stupid persistent jingle and the thoughts of your boss calling you to talk about your performance says yes.

“As soon as I’m done, I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

You let him keep your panties, instead focusing on grabbing your shirt off the lamp at least its not wrinkled. You shove your arms into the sleeves, pulling it over your head and make your way over to your desk in the corner of the living room, the laptop facing the window. Plopping in your chair, you take a peek at your reflection compact mirror you keep by your laptop.

You look-well fucked and sweaty- you smooth stray hairs back, and wipe your forehead off with the bottom of your shirt.

Now you look, well fucked but not sweaty- you cringe at yourself before snapping the mirror shut.

At least your notes are prepped and ready to go. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders and clear your throat.

And you connect.

Now

“Good afternoon,” your boss sings, way too cheerful for a mandatory work meeting on your one day off. Your coworkers chiming in with various levels of energy. You plaster on a grin, already knowing that this entire thing could have been an email and you could still be riding his cock.

There’s a round of painful small talk initiated by your bubbly coworker-if you could strangle Clarice you would. This woman drags out every damn meeting, the urge to shake your screen and yell, lets get this shit over with lingers in your throat.

Instead, you nod and smile.

Your pained expression says oh god shut the fuck Clarice, we dont want to tell you about our weekends.

It's not like you can say 'I fucked my man on every surface of the house including the kitchen table until he turned me into his personal creampie, that’s what I did this weekend.' HR might frown on that.

“Oh, I just stayed home, did some cardio, made a pie,” you reply when they all look at you.

You struggle to maintain your professional face. Its why you didn’t notice Bucky getting up from his position on the couch or see him walking towards you, his cock in one hand and his phone in the other.

Your phone flashes. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Bucky’s face on the screen. Discreetly lifting the side up, your breath hitches.

Please let me eat your pussy.

Your eyes flicker over your laptop and you almost choke on your spit. Bucky is sauntering towards you, pumping his thick cock, the angry red swollen tip leaking beads of precum. His mouth open, soft huffed breaths slipping past his lips. He mouths your name and your thighs clench together in response. His eyes only leave yours to send another text.

Please let me.

Subtly shaking your head, you drop your gaze back to the safety of your computer. You have to get through this meeting.

You have to.

Please.

I need it.

Cant cum until you do.

That last one has your stomach fluttering, memories have him whispering raspy and frantic in your ear, one more Peach, give me one more, need ya to cum for me, be good to me and let me feel ya. Bucky never finishes before you.

Never.

A silence falls over the room.

You blink, realizing everyone’s eyes are on you. Your boss. Coworkers. Bucky's blue eyes. You glance at their faces, trying to remember what they’re talking about. Reports? Project? Sweat beads along your forehead.

Shitshitshit.

“Uh yeah, I agree, we should do that.” you say hopefully, sounding more confident than you feel. It must have been the right response because, your boss nods, flashing a bright smile. Your coworker in the upper left corner takes over the conversation.

You sag in your seat, a rush of cool relief moving through your chest.

Until you see Bucky is no longer in front of you.

Where is he?

Your eyes sweep the room. Another message flashes on your phone.

She’s so pretty, peach.

Warm hands slide up and around your calves, lips, soft soft lips, pepper kisses up your knee. Oh fuck, a fresh wave of slick pours out of your throbbing pussy. He groans a hurried yes peach that you feel more than hear, his lips smoothing across your skin. Oh fuck. Your spine straightens and your jaw locks.

Clearing your throat, you smile and nod, melting behind your smile. Shut the fuck up Clarice, let this meeting end, stop asking questionn.

Fuckfuckfuck.

His lips press into your inner thigh, smell so good, he whispers, under his breath, just low enough for you to hear, his fingers tracing patterns in your skin, spreading your thighs wider and wider until your pussy is in front of his face. Bucky nips your skin and you hide your stuttered moan by pretending to rub your eye ducking your head.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his fingers spreading your pussy. “I need to taste you, gotta taste you pretty girl.”

You lock eyes with Bucky, his darkening blues are blown with a feral lust, oh he’s going to eat your pussy and you're going to let him. The sounds of laughter filter through your speakers, snapping your head up, you laugh a second behind the group

His wet and warm tongue licks up from your entrance to your clit. Oh god, you immediately cover your mouth, faking a cough. Tilting your chin to the side, you briefly close your eyes,

ohohgodfuck

Bucky slides his hands under your hips and he lifts you up. He inhales you, large dry palms on your inner thighs spreading you even wider. He nudges his tongue through you, savoring you. Soft and slow and sweet. Your taste exploding on his tongue. Your voice floats above him, in control and steady and it makes him grin.

Bucky flattens his tongue, gliding it from your slit up up up to your clit. He blows lightly on your soaked pussy, your thighs quiver and he does it again. He watches more your sweet slick gush out, soaking your seat. “Gonna clean you up peach.”

“Y-yes I’ll have it done by the fourth,” you’re still speaking but he detects the waver in your voice.

Good girl.

Bucky tries to be quiet, he really does but he's a sloppy eater. Long thick licks intertwined with soft sucks on your pulsating clit, his moans muffled vibrating with each flick of his tongue.

Waves of intense blinding pleasure surges through you, your belly tensing as the urge to clamp your thighs around his head and ride his face spirals out of control.

You bite your lip, tamping down your choked sobs, oh god you're close again. His tongue feels so damn good, tears burn your eyes. You glance down and a cry almost rips through your chest, he has his hand rapped around his cock, stroking his thick length as his lips wrap around your clit.

"What do you think?"

Your eyes flit up, everyone is looking at you. Your smile stretches painfully across your face, you don't trust your voice, if you open your mouth you're going to scream his name, you know you will. You nod, your hands moving to his hair.

Don't stop, please don't stop.

"Alright, then if no one else has any questions, we can finish up."

Clarice opens her mouth and you glare at her. The heat from your gaze pierces through the screen. "Uh never mind," she splutters, "I'll email you."

Yes the fuck you will.

"Thank you, have a great day, buh-bye," you rush out, hitting end. Slamming your laptop shut, you drop your head back and let out a thin wail.

"Oh god yes," you chant, grinding your pussy on his face. The pressure snaps, unleashing sultry sensations through you and stars dotting your blurry vision.

Buckys eyes roll back, his mouth sliding off of you, a grunt rumbling in his chest as he cums, thick hot ropes of his cum spilling over his hand.

You go limp in your chair, almost sliding off it. Bucky pushes you back, climbing from under the desk. He gives you a satisfied grin, wiping his chin off.

"Enjoy your meeting peach?"

Likes comments and reblogs are appreciated.

[agent-ccarter]

Oh wow 🥺

10 Words

(not my gif)

summary -  The 10 words should have haunted Bucky for the rest of his life have entirely different meanings

word count - 5.6k

warnings - making out (idk i can’t write kiss scenes lol)

a/n - all credit goes to @officialgritty​ for this genius idea

join my taglist

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[agent-ccarter]

this is the sweetest, thankyou!💜

Fic Rec Masterlist

Updated: 21/04/21

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[agent-ccarter]

this is so good!!

Need You Here

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have a close call with an explosion

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, explosions, talk of injuries, canon-level case violence, basically just soft hurt/comfort idk there’s a happy ending sooooo

A/N: this is definitely a self-indulgent fic that’s been a wip for a while and by some miracle i found the motivation to finish it. enjoy :)

Masterlist

—

The stars are falling from the sky.

Air rushes back into your lungs in one unpleasant burst, and you choke on the bitter taste of smoke that accompanies each additional heave of your chest. Blinking rapidly, your vision sharpens and you realize that it’s not the stars that are falling, but bits of ash and debris falling through the smoke; it’s not nighttime. You hear nothing but the ringing in your ears, sounds muffled as if underwater. Slowly, painfully, you become aware of the pain radiating through your body stemming from a pressure on your midsection. Carefully turning your head to the side, your eyes find the remains of the small cabin which once held three girls captive. Where are they? Your vision clouds once more, smoke stinging its way down your throat and biting at your eyes, causing you to squeeze them shut. You can hear shouting, and you try to focus on what’s happening around you, but the sounds fade, and you follow.

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[agent-ccarter]

they don’t know about us | spencer reid

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Warning: mentions of drugs, ANGST, SOFT!Spencer, lol this is like tooth rotting stuff

A/N lemme just preface with the fact I’m not a doctor so know nothing about sedatives and I feel like this is probs out of character for Spencer but I don’t care

*****

Your first encounter with Spencer’s work colleagues came at your own job. It wasn’t planned, just Spencer happened to forget that you’d told him all the others were out at a conference and you were taking the lead in the morgue. 

You could hear him down the hallway, his facts echoing down the empty hallway. The silence was strangely comforting, this floor one of the only in the hospital that offered solace from the craziness of crying patients and loud machines. The only downside of the job was just that; your patients couldn’t tell you anything, you had to examine anything and everything for yourself. 

Standing over the body on the table, you beckoned in the men when they knocked loudly against the glass.

���Come in.” The door swung open, a tall man entering before Spencer, “Hi, I’m Y/N.” You stuck out your hand before pulling it back swiftly, apologising for offering a handshake with a glove covered in bodily fluids.

“I’m SSA Morgan, this is Dr Reid,” Derek smiled, trying to ignore your slip up before shaking your now clean hand, “Pleasure.” 

You nodded back, looking behind him at your boyfriend who was suddenly very interested in his thumbs.

“He isn’t a people person,” Derek rolled his eyes at Spencer. You sent back a small smile and a nod, ignoring the irony that your ‘not-a-people-person boyfriend’ was your favourite person. You knew that Spencer wanted to protect you from his job and you were pretty sure the team knew nothing about you, but you were shocked at him blatantly ignoring you. Swallowing down your pride, you turned back to your work.

“There wasn’t anything too unusual, except we did find these,” you pointed out the tiny holes littered around the girls arms, “and the level of lorazepam in her system was off the charts.”

Both you and Derek didn’t speak, quietly expecting a fact from Spencer.

“She was being sedated?” Derek asked.

“And I hate to speculate, but I can’t think of any way someone could get their hands on that quantity of sedative without having some kind of link to the medical field.” You offered, and Derek looked up from the body.

“They could be a doctor,” he said, looking like a kid on Christmas, “You should consider a career change. Thanks for your help, let’s go kid.” He smiled at you before patting Spencer on the shoulder. He left, and Spencer followed, but not before sending an apologetic glare at you. One you didn’t notice as you angrily slammed your tools into the metal dish, back to him.

***

After the events of that day, your relationship was somewhat strained. You still loved eachother, of course, but you couldn’t be happy knowing he wanted to keep you away from the people who were basically his family. So, in an attempt to rectify this, he invited you to a meal and game night with the team. 

Rossi’s house was huge, and you felt a little silly bringing the somewhat-cheap bottle of whiskey as a peace offering. 

“Maybe I should just leave the whiskey, Spence.” You held the cold bottle on top of your thigh in an attempt to stop it jittering. Spencer laughed, replacing the bottle with his hand.

“He’ll love it, I promise.”

“Stop laughing at me.” He looked over at you once more, laughing again, resulting you in swatting his hand from your leg. 

“It’s just cute that you’re worried about them, they’re going to love you,” he took ahold of your hand this time, carefully running his thumb over your knuckles, “you don’t have anything to worry about, I promise.” You could swear he said that with a slight grimace.

He was right, thankfully, about the whiskey and the team, they were great. Rossi even cracked open the drink and sipped it throughout the night. 

“I appreciate someone who knows their alcohol,” he said, waving it towards you as you returned from the kitchen with another drink for yourself and Spencer, the bottle of wine and straw tucked under your arm for Emily, earning a confession of love as you handed it to her. You didn’t have the heart to tell Rossi you just picked one that looked nice on the shelf. You put Spencers down in front of him, but he didn’t acknowledge you as he engaged in a rather intense conversation with Derek.

You grabbed his hand in yours to rub it in a similar way to how he did before, but he suddenly needed his hands to argue his point. You looked back at the table, picking up your cards ready for poker to start, but not before seeing an almost pitiful smile from Garcia. 

Trying to get his attention all night proved unsuccessful, the only time he even looked over at you being to count your cards. The rest of the team kept you involved in the fun, but as soon as the game concluded you excused yourself to use the bathroom. 

The hallways felt like a labyrinth, the only noises being your incredibly heavy breathing and Garcia scolding Spencer on his behaviour outside. As soon as you found the bathroom, you slammed the door behind you and walked to the sink, holding the porcelain with such power you were surprised it didn’t break.

The mirror provided some level of calm, forcing you to breath as you dabbed at your face to stop the black-tinted tears ruining your makeup. You wiped the red lipstick from your lips too, it staining your teeth making you seethe even more. 

A quiet knock from the door broke you away. You presumed it was Spencer, guessing that anyone else would announce their presence first. He pushed open the door with a click and walked in, seemingly unsurprised to see you in this state.

The pair of you stood their in that uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, letting Spencer bask in the pain of seeing the love of his life crying because of him.

“Shut the door.” You almost commanded, and he did so swiftly. You turned back to the mirror, wiping at your face once more, ceasing as you were angrily unable to wipe away the black that stained your skin.

“Are you embarrassed by me?” You finally whispered, breaking the silence. He almost scoffed, more out of shock than arrogance.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He began to step towards you, desperately wanting to grab you arm and pull you in and to smother the upset away.

“Don’t,” you held out your arm as you looked down at the sink once more, “you’ve barely spoken two words to me since we got here. The team you didn’t want to meet have included me more than you have, so it must be something! Your embarrassed or ashamed or something.”

“I could never be ashamed of you, Y/N. I adore you.”

“Then show it! I can’t just be your girlfriend when it’s convienient for you.”

He put your handbag bag atop the toilet cistern, letting the metal echo as it tapped against the porcelain.

“I never really had a family, you know that. These people are my family. I was afraid. I was afraid you wouldn’t like them, or they wouldn’t like you, which is stupid because how couldn’t they. I love them, almost as much as I love you. I was scared it wouldn’t work, they’d be so happy for me and then I’d jinx it and it would fall apart, or even worse I’d have to choose between you. I could never do that.”

“I would never make you choose, Spence.”

“I know, and that’s what makes it ridiculous. I was irrational and nothing I’ve said excuses my behaviour and I’m sorry. I love you, Y/N. So much that i didn’t know what to do. I acted like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

“I made you cry, didn’t I?” You smiled slightly.

“I love you too.”

He grabbed your hand, as if offering you a chance to pull away if you didn’t want him to touch you. When you didn’t resist, he pulled you forwards, hugging you and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Sit.” You obliged, mostly because you wanted to see what he’d do next. Grabbing your purse from behind you, he opened it to take out the tiny packet of makeup wipes you always carry.

He wiped lightly at your cheek, before kissing it gently.

I

He wiped at the other. Kiss.

Love

He gently wiped at your lips. Kiss.

You

You ran your fingers through his thick locks of curly hair, before leaning your forehead against his and basking in the contact. He traced his fingers over you thigh, writing the words once more.

I love you.

You lifted your lips and pressed them against his head.

“I could never, ever, be ashamed of you.”

******

A/N if I can say this myself it’s CUTE I had so much fun writing this soft!spencer. So cute.

Requests are open lovelies!

[agent-ccarter]

Everything Has Changed | Emily Prentiss x reader

Request for @zizzlekwum​: Can I get Prentiss x f!BAU!reader where they're both in love with each other but reader doesnt even realize it and Prentiss hasnt said anything for fear of ruining their friendship because they're basically best friends and then Prentiss fakes her death and reader basically represses most of it and is kinda in a state of shock until Prentiss comes back and then they go back to being best friends but then one of them almost dies and Prentiss does a feelings reveal? Idk I had a dream about it once lol

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x f!BAU!reader, platonic Spencer Reid x reader, platonic Derek Morgan x reader

A/N: This is gonna be a 2 part series cos i feel like too much happens for 1 fic!!

Word Count: 1038

Warnings: TW brief mention of drug abuse, brief mention of vomiting, brief mention of restricted eating, alludes to depression, death

“She never made it off the table.”

You had liked to think you were level headed in times of crisis; remaining fairly calm when Emily went missing, prompting her to stay awake as Derek held his hands over her wound as she bled out. You thought you could handle anything. 

But this? This was something different entirely. This wasn’t a moment of sadness before crawling out of the pit of despair to do something, this was digging the hole deeper yourself and letting it swallow you whole. You should’ve been the one there, you should have put yourself in harms way to protect her. But now Emilys dead, and it felt like your soul had been ripped out of your body. 

It felt like the rest of the team had more logical reactions, crying and comforting each other, but you stayed sat, hands clinging to the cold wooden waiting room chairs like if you didn't you’d fall to the centre of the earth. You ran your fingers over the bottom of the handles as your thumb gripped the top, relishing in the slight pain of the unvarnished splintering wood. 

“Y/N,” you saw someone drop to your eye level, voice loud against the room that was now empty of other agents to allow them to mourn, and to give you some peace to digest it all. Derek’s hand hesitantly rested against your thigh, afraid that the touch would make you crumble. Your eyes focused on him, his red eyes and wet face finally breaking you down. 

“I need to- I need to see her, Derek, please- please, I need to see her,” he guided you back down into the chair that you were trying to escape, “Derek, she can’t be. She can’t be gone.”

You collapsed forewards into his arms and he pulled you in, cradling you against his chest. You sobbed loudly, loud enough to severely hurt Derek’s ears, but he let you carry on. At this point you weren’t even in the chair, the two of you on the cold clean floor in a tangle of limbs.

“She’s my best friend.”

The funeral came and went, the entire thing a daze as you stood held in Derek’s arms, him never leaving your side of fear you’d simply collapse. 

The rest of the time was mourning, sure. But they could get up each day and function, going to work and feigning normality. You couldn’t, a shell of your former self even though it had been months. It was three months before you even stepped into the office, and even then everyone was walking on eggshells around you. You’d seen Derek the most, obviously, as well as Garcia who would bring various baked goods around now and then to make sure you were eating something. You and Spencer would answer each others calls for help when the other needed someone who understood the pain. You’d wrestled a syringe from his hand on one occasion, flushing the vile from the toilet, and he held you as you sobbed, fully clothed under the stream of hot water from the shower. He held your hair back when you sobbed so hard you vomited into the toilet. You sat opposite each other to give you the motivation to eat. As nice as it was to have Derek and Garcia babying you, hugging you whilst you were crying, the awful things Spencer helped you through, and vice versa, was even more comforting; you saw him come out the other side of grief. So, you started to, too. 

You’d taken the day to go to your weekly bureau-mandated therapy, avoiding the bullpen like the plague to make it to your appointment. It went well, well, as good as it could. You sat opposite the woman, picking at the fabric of the chair. You’d answered a couple of questions, deflected to Spencer often, refused to even mention her name. It was better than your usual silence.

You tried to exit the building as quickly as you had entered, not wanting to see the team to provide yourself with a reprieve from pretending to be ok in front of your colleagues. The elevator took frustratingly long, however you were grateful as it allowed you to listen in to the screaming match that was developing in the bullpen. You walked up to the glass double doors, peering through at the very full conference room in the distance and Derek and Spencer shouting at Hotch. 

Stepping into the room, you noticed that Spencer had been crying, and was almost holding Derek back from Hotch. 

“She can’t handle it, Hotch!” Hotch stood on the balcony, taking the shouts from the two men. 

“You don’t understand what she has been through! She has barely made it out the other side, how did you think it was a good idea to keep this going for so long? It’s going to ruin her.” Spencer pleaded with the man. Hotch tried to say something to ease the annoyance of the men, but he could only look down, which is when he noticed them. 

“Stop.” He muttered, but him saying something stopped the two men. They followed his gaze to where you stood across the bull pen. 

“Y/N.” Spencer said, starting to come to you. However, his utterance of your name caused a shuffle in the conference room. A person moved out, and Spencer stopped moving. 

[agent-ccarter]

Can I get Prentiss x f!BAU!reader where they're both in love with each other but reader doesnt even realize it and Prentiss hasnt said anything for fear of ruining their friendship because they're basically best friends and then Prentiss fakes her death and reader basically represses most of it and is kinda in a state of shock until Prentiss comes back and then they go back to being best friends but then one of them almost dies and Prentiss does a feelings reveal? Idk I had a dream about it once lol

So sorry it’s taken me so long to get round to this!

(I think) this going to be a 2 part series, and the first part should be up today!! 

[agent-ccarter]

this writing is some of the best I’ve read for cm, the author absolutely nails the characters and it’s pure talent

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

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[agent-ccarter]

in another life | emily prentiss

Summary: Y/N realises her love for Emily is more than friends.

Emily Prentiss x gn!reader

----------------------------------

In another life, I would be your girl We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world

The bar was busy, filled to the bring with intoxicated people. You found yourself sat at the table, keeping ahold of Garcia’s bag and watching over a couple of drinks whilst your team danced. Hotch and Rossi stood at the bar, whiskey in hand as the somehow managed to have a conversation over the blaring music. 

“You need to come and dance, Y/N. You look so lonely!” You could tell Spencer was drunk, him never usually being this straightforward when not 4 drinks down. 

“I’m ok, thanks Spence,” you smiled, taking your vodka back into your hand to try and look vaguely busy, “Go have fun! I’m fine.” He looked at you, sending you a lopsided grin before putting his arm around you and kissing your head in a rare, but genuinely heartfelt act of affection. He almost ran back to the dance floor, turning around to clumsily dance at you, eliciting a laugh from you. 

You took another swig from you drink, looking around at your friends dancing before feeling the table buzz slightly. And then again, and again, and finally once more.

You picked it up, the alcohol not yet fully in your system, allowing you to fully make out the 4 messages. 

Em: Come dance with me. Please.

Em: Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Em: Y/N. Put your drink down and dance.

Em: Why are you doing this to meeeeeeeeeeeee. Whyyyyyyyyy?

You looked up at her, red dress standing out in the swarms of people. She sent the most ridiculous grin you’d ever seen your way.

Y/N: As an FBI agent, you of all people should know its a bad idea to leave a drink unattended at a nightclub.

You watched as she read the message, pouted, and passive aggressively texted you again.

Em: You don’t want me to cry on the dance floor. 

And there she stood, slap bang in the centre of the room, dramatically fake sobbing and running her finger down from her eye to mimic a tear drop. You raised your eyebrow quizzically at her, only making her pout grow larger. So, in an attempt to prevent an actual tantrum, you made a show of downing your drink and slamming the glass against the table, then taking Garcia’s bag to Hotch, before making your way to the dance floor.   

“Yes!! My favourite person!” Emily shouted, hugging you close so you could smell the mixture of perfume and liquor radiating off her. She raised your arm, allowing you to twirl dramatically, earning whoops from the rest of the team.

“Come on, dance with meeee,” the pair of you laughed, dancing far two expressively considering how sober at least you were.

She genuinely looked happy, dancing under the rays of blue, red and green, taking the various shots members of the team gave her.

And you loved it. You loved her.

You loved her smiling so wide. You loved her laughing and joking with the team, typically at Spencers expense (although he didn’t really mind). You loved her dancing so carefree, as if she didn’t have a job that exposed her to such atrocities.

But you also loved her normally. You loved watching her at her desk, pen hanging from her mouth as she looked over files. You loved her as she argued her point, refusing to stand down until it was clear she was right. You loved her as you held her head against you, letting her weep as she rarely did. 

But as she danced, you could see. She loved you, as much as humanly possible. You were her favourite person, her best friend, and nothing more. 

You looked around, Hotch and Rossi still at the bar smiling on fondly at you all, the rest of your team dancing as strangely as you two. 

Yes, you wanted more, but this family is too good to risk ruining. So just friends is enough.

[agent-ccarter]

red | spencer reid x reader

 A/N: I wrote this whilst procrastinating uni work but I acc love it. 

Pairing: Spencer x reader, BAU Team x reader

Summary: Spencer gets injured and the reader cleans him up. 

To say you were pissed that Hotch benched you was an understatement. On the last assignment, you ended up in a fist fight with an unsub and made it onto the wrong end of a knife. 30 stitches and a stern talking to later, you merely consulted on the case from the bullpen, switching periodically between phone calls from the team, adventures for coffee and to Garcia’s batcave, and trying (trying being the most important word) to complete paperwork. 

So, to say you were pissed at that, hearing Spencer was now hurt too not only rubbed salt into the metaphorical wound, but also stabbed you a solid ten more times too. 

You were practically running from when you got the text from Emily that they were back, meeting the team as they came out of the elevator, only to be greeted by all of them except Hotch and the man you were looking for.

“Where is he?” You asked, ambushing them before they’d even stepped out. Derek muttered from the back of the elevator, something along the lines of “Nice to see you too Y/N, I’m great, thanks for your concern.”

“Hotch is talking to him,” Emily told you as you stood in front of the door, biting your fingernails, “He’s doing ok.” She put a comforting hand on your arm before leaving you be. JJ walked forward next, pulling you into a hug you were too anxious to return. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. He got the all clear.” JJ said, and you were sure her hands were slightly tinted red, maybe from the cold or from something much darker.

The bell for the other elevator echoed around the empty room, the rest of the team opting to let you greet Spencer in peace. When the door did open, you felt the air leave your chest; there stood your boyfriend, face marked with splatters of red and body wrapped in a jacket you recognised as Hotchs. You ran forward and he pulled you into his arms, holding him tight before pulling back and quickly embracing Aaron too in a silent thank-you, previous anger dissolving.

Reid pulled the jacket from his shoulders, eliciting a gasp from you; only a few patches of white coming through the mainly blood red shirt. Hotch took the jacket, moving to the bullpen to leave the two of you alone. You pulled your hands down his top, feeling the cold, wet material, wincing as you moved.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.” Typical Spencer, almost being killed but comforting you.

“You say that, but your shirt was white when you left.” He laughed slightly, before letting you look at the large white gauze on his neck and shoulder. You winced more than him, before pulling him in for a hug again, slightly more gently this time.

“You’re gonna stain your dress.” 

“I don’t care, Spence,” you murmured as you pulled your fingers through his long hair, “I’m so glad you’re ok.” He nuzzled his head into your shoulder, as if he was realising himself how lucky he was to be hugging you. You stood like that for a minute or so, before pulling him to the small bathroom nearby.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Spencer pulled down the toilet lid before sitting down on top and undoing his shirt. You locked the door before grabbing a white towel and dampening it under the tap. 

You knelt in front of him, beginning to wipe away the red from his face. You were somewhat unsuccessful, the blood staining, but you managed to get rid of a lot of it. 

He winced as a cold stream of water fell down his chest.

“Stop moving.” He breathed deep, attempting to prepare himself once more for the cold. 

When you finally finished, you threw the towel in the sink before grabbing a large jumper from his go bag, helping him get it over his head whilst he stayed sat. 

He pulled you back down, allowing you to kneel between his legs. Resting his forehead back against yours, he took both of his hands and held them against your face. You took your own pressing them over his, stroking gently against his fingers. There was no need for an I love you, no need for any words at all. 

[agent-ccarter]

now i’m getting colder

summary: Emily’s been dating you for nearly a year and she’s never been happier–until her past come to call. Then she’s gone, and Spencer’s left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

sequel to only if you knew

part 1 of 2

pairing: spencer reid x reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x reader

content warnings: (faked) major character death, major angst, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), swearing

a/n: i got such a great response from the original fic, so after some requests, i decided to continue the story. thank you all for your support!

word count: 3.8k

After the night in Connecticut, Spencer expects everything to change.

Keep reading

[agent-ccarter]

hey there LGBTQ kids who are also Christian/Jewish! If you feel like you’re disobeying God, questioning your faith, or feel wrong and dirty for loving who you love, there’s this fantastic site I found today called hoperemains that accurately and thoroughly combs through scripture and its (many) mistranslations, validates your orientation, and basically let’s you know that you’re not pissing off God. It’s insanely thorough and after reading through every page on the entire site it’s super helpful. Go check it out!

[agent-ccarter]

Reblog if you’re bisexual, support bisexual people or are actually a bunch of tiny velociraptors in a human suit

[agent-ccarter]

Hi guys!

Super random post, but i recently set up a kofi! It is by no means an obligation, I know how tight money can be, but anything is appreciated! I’m a struggling film student and anything would be going towards rent and keeping me in my degree!

The link is here!

Thankyou so much, have a lovely day!

[agent-ccarter]

sleep | emily prentiss

Emily looks after the reader after a rough case.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: im weak i love soft emily. think i may do a part 2 to this

The case had been tough on you all, you especially. The unsub’s M.O hit a little too close to home, and you spent the entire week being hyper vigilant whilst still trying to do your job properly. The entire team had noticed, Emily especially, but had left you be; you didn’t ask for help, so clearly weren’t ready for any.

Taking a seat on the jet finally felt like a weight had been lifted. You dropped into the leather seat, grabbing your phone and putting in your earphones before taking out your water. You put on a relaxed playlist, skipping the overly sad songs and drowning out the noise from the others chatting.

Emily waited until everyone had fallen asleep or put in headphones of her own to make her move. She put her bag on the table and sat opposite, prompting you to take out your earphones.

“Hi,” she smiled lightly, trying to hid the inquisitive look on her face; she clearly had 100 things to say but didn’t to press too hard.

You looked out of the window, preparing yourself for her questions.

“Hi,” she looked at your hands wrapped tightly around your phone, tapping against the glass, “I’m sorry, Em, I don’t think i’m quite ready for the interrogation yet.

She put her hand out on the table and waited for you to hold out your own, “Hey, there won’t be any of that, not till you’re ready,” she smiled as your face almost lit up, before grabbing her bag from the table, “I do, however, have this for you. I asked JJ if she had one spare, and thankfully she doesn’t know the meaning of travelling light.” Emily pushed a blanket across the table, and you felt like you could cry right there and then.

“Thankyou, Em.” She took note of the strong glint in your eyes, and rubbed her thumb across your palm.

“None of that, get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[agent-ccarter]

Wow wow wow this is beautiful and I’m a mess 🥺

Aversions

Hotch is less than dealing with the events of Foyet’s attack.

Warnings: alcohol abuse, child abuse, drug abuse, graphic depictions of violence & stabbing, self-destructive behavior, crying, self harm, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideations, violence with guns, and maybe some out of character Hotch and Emily.

Not sure how I feel about this fic… but I guess, we’re going in with both feet so 

“You cannot save people, you can only love them.” –Anais Nin

Aaron Hotchner has never been good with words. Not the right ones, anyway.

But actions can speak louder than words.

He’ll spin Garcia around the dance floor when they go out for drinks. Hands placed just where they should be and he’ll laugh softly when she makes a thinly-veiled dirty joke. And she’ll remember those nights for her whole life. The way he smiled at her as the lights shimmered overhead. The way he blushed when she refused to dance with anyone else, stating she needed a real gentleman.

There are nights at Dave’s. Weekends that he gets to keep Jack, uninterrupted by cases, and they go to visit Pop’s; Jack’s third favorite person (mommy and daddy of course being one and two). It’s the sound of Jack’s happy feet running up and down the hall, Hotch’s thundering voice as he he-ho-hums and chases him along. Dave watching the youth bleed into that scrawny, spunky recruit from some twenty years ago. And Jack always runs into Dave’s arms and in one fell-sweep proclaims him the only safety he can get from his daddy. His giggling face turned into Dave’s shoulder as he shouts, “get him Pops, get him!”

Those memories were just weeks ago.

It’s been two weeks since Dave’s house was filled with Jack and Hotch, smiling and happy and… fuck just healthy.

Aaron Hotchner wakes up dizzy and sore. The pain ebbing into the numb, dull ache of whatever’s being steadily fed into the line disappearing into the pale flesh of his hand. For a moment, he just watches the ceiling spin. An all too familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. Anxiety spreading its claws out to take root but he… he can’t seem to remember why.

Realization floods his chilled limbs with a shudder, the memories hitting his sternum. He leans his head back into the pillows, limp and stiff and cold and so fucking hot– The stiff tug of the stitches in his abdomen force him to come to an altogether too swift descent. There’s a hissing sound that comes before his right-hand aches, something cold and heavy spreading up his arm and into his chest.

“Good to see you awake,” a nurse greets.

He’s too far gone to say anything.

By the time Emily finds him, he’s had one minor run-in with the staff. A doctor stops Emily in the hall, her tone laced with annoyance and apprehension that bleeds into her threat to restrain Hotch if that becomes necessary. Emily leaves with a nod and promises to keep an eye on him but she leaves with this tight bundle of uncertainty forming in her chest.

He wakes as she settles down in the visitor’s chair.

The stitches along his hip are tight, leaving him immobile despite his foggy brain wanting nothing more than to curl onto his side and sleep just a little longer. But the scent of the antiseptics burn his nose and he can still feel Foyet–

The tip of the knife slowly dragging down his chest. There’s no threat of a scratch or blemish out of place. Aaron’s breathing having long ago turned ragged and shallow. “Have you ever read the reports,” Foyet asks, keeping his slow purposeful movement going. “Tell me, Aaron, have you read what David Rossi and Jason Gideon had to say about you? Young Aaron…”

Foyet smirks as he stops, shifting as he presses weight into the stab. It’s slow and agonizing but, Hotch realizes with a shudder, he’s too cold and weak to even really feel it. His body slowly falling away.

“Not so young anymore,” Foyet comments. He takes a moment to watch the knife’s slow pull from Hotch’s body, smiling when Hotch’s chest catches and he falls silent and breathless. Not even the sound of his ragged wheezes filling the air. “I can see how they’re right, you know?” Foyet lays the knife down on the side, pulling himself up and away from Hotch. “I wonder what’s going to get you killed faster, your loyalty, or your stubbornness?”

Keep reading

[agent-ccarter]

I have been gone for ages and as soon as I came back uploaded three criminal minds imagines and I have no regrets