hargreeves-duncan

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ LOVE IS A WILD THING

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

summary: your daughter is far too adventurous for this early in the morning

warnings: daughter’s name is harriet

word count: 1.3k

a/n: tiny dad jake piece for you all, since it’s been a while since i wrote for him - enjoy!

There was nothing you loved more than waking up to the sight of your husband in your bed.

Blonde hair tousled with sleep, stubble lining his chin, and that sleepy smirk of his that you could never tire of.

Jake stirred, his eyes fluttering open and meeting yours with a sleepy smile, “Mornin’, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled back, rolling over so that you were pressed up against his bare chest, “Good morning to you.”

He pulled you closer, breathing in deeply against your shoulder blade, “Sleep okay?”

“Mm… like a baby,” you replied lowly, hands sliding over his shoulders and down his back, savouring the warmth of his skin.

You sighed, closing your eyes again as you nestled into him. Time alone like this was rare. Between his deployments, your work, and childcare, mornings like these at the Seresin estate were precious.

“I could stay like this all day.”

Jake chuckled softly against you, squeezing your hips, “As could I. But,” he groaned, shifting his hips, “We both know that the hurricane’ll be barrelling through here any minute.”

Before you could reply, the bedroom door swung open with a bang, and in came Harriet, her dirty blonde hair tousled and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Momma! Momma, look what I got!” she squealed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

She was the spitting image of her Daddy, with his same picture-perfect grin.

Jake groaned, sitting himself up on his elbows and rubbing tiredly at his eyes, “What is it, honeypie? Come on and show me.”

Sunlight spilled in through the windows, catching the angles of his chest. You reached out, placing a gentle hand over his chest, and he rested his own hand over yours.

Harriet pulled something from behind her back, a glass jar, and held it out in front of you, beaming with pride.

Inside it, something sleek and black was writhing restlessly.

Jake took the jar from her, squinting cautiously as he tapped the glass, “What is-“

The coil let out an angry hiss and Jake recoiled, nearly dropping the jar onto the floor, “Holy mother of-“

Turning to Harriet, who was still smiling away, completely unfazed, a stern look settled on his face, “Harriet Leanne Seresin, what on Earth are you doing with a snake in a jar at this hour? Are you insane?”

“No, Daddy! He’s my friend!” she giggled, reaching eagerly for the jar.

Jake held it at arm’s length, eyes scanning the snake’s patterned scales as Harriet continued.

“I put him in the sandbox ‘cause I thought he might like it and he did! He was zooming around like crazy in there.” she explained, her excitement bubbling over as she talked, “I know he liked me too, ‘cause he let me pet him.”

Jake exchanged a look with you, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach, “Uh-huh. And where were Grandma and Grandpa while you managed to get up to all this?”

“Grandma’s making lunch, and Grandpa’s visiting the horses,” she recounted, swaying on the heels of her little booties.

You propped yourself up against the headboard, pulling the blanket up to cover your bare chest, “You didn’t want to go see the horses with Grandpa?”

“Nope. Snakes are cooler,” Harriet declared. Then, eyes wide with hope, she added, “Can we keep him? As a pet? He only bit me one single time! He’s really good!”

Jake’s eyes widened and he immediately tugged his daughter towards him, his protective instincts flaring for his little girl, “He bit you?”

“Yeah, but only a little one. It was like,” she made a small chomp, imitating the snake, “and then he let go. It was just a tiny, little bite! It didn’t hurt! Plus, he’s not venomous. Grandma checked.”

You exchanged a glance with Jake, both of you trying not to smile at her stubborn bravery.

Jake shook his head with a smile, “That’s good to hear Grandma checked, but even if he’s not venomous, snake bites can still hurt. And it’s not safe to play with wild animals like that, angel face.”

He set the jar on the nightstand, well out of harm’s way.

Harriet crossed her arms, lips poking out in a pout, “But he’s my friend now! We’re friends.”

Your eyes softened, “I love how brave you can be and I’m proud of you for making friends with everybody out here, baby, but friends need to live where they’re happiest and safest, don’t you think?”

Jake nodded, running his hand up and down Harriet’s arm, “That’s right. He’s got his own family and home out in the wild, precious. We can’t keep him here.”

“But…” she protested.

“You miss Daddy when he’s away flying, right?” you asked, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at her.

Harriet nodded, putting her fingers in her mouth and frowning, “Yeah.”

“Think about how much your friend probably misses his own daddy.” you suggested gently.

“I’d bet it’s a whole lot,” Jake said, scooping her up and pulling her onto the bed, onto his lap, “But we can head outside and put him into the grass together, so that he can find his way back.”

Harriet’s face softened, considering this, “Okay…” she perked up again, “but he can come visit, right?”

Jake laughed quietly, “Maybe when we’re outside, we can say hi to him. How’s that sound?”

“Okay, I guess.” she grumbled, walking over to the bedside and squinting at the little creature in its jar-home.

“Alright, off you go, little miss,” Jake ordered, patting her back, “Go pester Grandma while me and Mommy get up.”

Harriet snatched up the jar, scurrying out of the room as fast as she could. The door gave a soft creak as it swung closed behind her.

Jake let out a breath, leaning back against the pillows, “Well… that’s her gone for a few minutes.”

He reached down, his hand brushing over your ankle to give it a comforting squeeze.

You let out a small laugh, rolling your ankle in his touch, “Never a dull moment,” you sighed, tilting your head to look at him.

Jake’s fingers trailed up to your hip and he leaned down to nuzzle against your shoulder, “Mm… not exactly the quiet morning I had planned for us.”

You rested your head back against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, “No… but, I wouldn’t trade it for a thing,” you whispered, fingers brushing over his hand.

He chuckled, tightening his hold on your ankle slightly, “Neither would I.” he leaned in lazily, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Jake pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes softened as they roamed over your face in something akin to adoration.

“You look absolutely… incredible, babydoll.”

You laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “Incredible? I just woke up.”

“I know,” he said, tilting his head as if trying to decipher your meaning, “Fresh out of bed and I still can’t take my eyes off o’ you.”

You felt heat blossom in your stomach, and you reached up to squeeze his hand, “Jake…”

He shook his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face, “Don’t ‘Jake’ me. I mean it. I’ve spent a lot of mornings with you, and somehow, every single time it surprises me how perfect you look.”

You leaned back against him, letting his hands wander freely along your back and over your shoulders, “You’re awfully good at flattery.”

Jake laughed, “‘s not flattery, honey. ‘s appreciation. I see you. All of you. And I am constantly in awe.”

You tilted your head to meet his gaze as you bite your lip, “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he nodded and cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheekbones, “I don’t say it enough, but I love seeing you like this. My beautiful wife. You are my favourite view in the whole damn world.”

tags: @literal-tv-menace @nelatischlerova

@gaslightgatekeepgirlbossgasly @urfavleobiscuit

[hargreeves-duncan]

aaron hotchner watching reader with a lego addiction(totally not projecting) bond with jack by building a lego set together! just supper fluffy and domestic.

"how long have you been working on this?"

"we finished lord of the rings"

"oh! which one?"

"all of them...we are now on the hobbit"

omg first hotch fic I hope I did it justice (screams and throws up and slams my laptop closed)

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader who gets a little carried away with Jack [619 words]

CW: kid fic (jack <3), no gender markers used for reader, ambiguous relationship status - could be pre-established relationship or new relationship, fluff

Your shoulders migrate skywards on their own volition at the sound of the front door opening, and you remind yourself that you’re not actually doing anything wrong.

In fact, Aaron would probably be very pleased at coming home to find you and his son sitting together on the carpeted floor. He trusted you enough to pick him up from school, he’ll likely be thrilled to see the two of you getting on so well.

Still, you find yourself feeling all sorts of wrong at having barely gotten Jack a glass of water and a few goldfish crackers before the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the livingroom floor. 

You should have fed him dinner, or maybe you should have even prepared a meal for all three of you. You should have helped Jack with his math homework, or had him get started on his reading for tomorrow. You should have prepared his lunch for school in the morning, or-

“What’s this?” Aaron asks as he finally steps into the living room; suit jacket hung over the back of the chair as he takes in the scene before him.

“Daddy!”

“Hi, Jackers.” Aaron greets warmly as his son jumps up to greet him. Small arms circle his hips as the boy shoves his face into his father’s less-than-crisp button up shirt on account of a long day’s work. “I was wondering why no one greeted me when I walked in.”

The heat in your cheeks borders white-hot as you look up from your current task; two pats placed to Jack’s shoulder by a large hand before the boy’s scurrying back over to your dedicated work station. 

“Sorry, we…got busy and lost track of time. I can tidy up and-”

“No!” Jack hollers, looking at you with a look of betrayal. “We just started this one!”

“Jack’s right.” Aaron agrees with a half-smile; the kind he makes when he’s trying to sound serious but falls short. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“No but I should’ve-”

“Daddy says ‘should have’s will make you go crazy.” Jack tells you solemnly. The serious pinch of his lips and the subtle quirk of his brows so inherently Hotchner you almost laugh at him.

“It’s true,” Aaron agrees, chuckling fondly at his son’s impression of him, “I’m glad to see the two of you have had fun. How long have you been working on this?” 

“We finished the Lord of the Rings!” His son tells him proudly. 

Aaron crouches down beside Jack to investigate his work. “Really? That’s great, buddy. Which one?”

You look up at Aaron whose eyes are already on you and you’re certain your face is going to melt clean off. “Uhm…all of them…” You admit reluctantly, eyes traitorously flicking to the multiple completed scenes set up beneath the TV stand. 

“We’re working on the Hobbit now!” Jack adds helpfully.

“Great stuff. You two carry on and I’ll start dinner.” Aaron says, standing and already walking away before he adds. “Spaghetti sound okay?” 

“Oh, I can do it, Aaron.” You offer, setting your connected pieces down and making to stand. 

Aaron’s head pops back out of the kitchen to level you with a look. “No, no. You’re busy, honey; I can handle supper.”

You bite back a squeal at the term of endearment and will yourself to get it together. “I- well, okay. But, I’ll do the dishes.” 

The look softens considerably and you swear to God Aaron actually winks at you before disappearing back into the kitchen. “If you insist; I can’t say no to you twice.” 

Pinching your lips between your teeth to avoid actually squealing aloud, you tuck that bit of info in your back pocket for future reference.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Bob Floyd would take his daughters to get pedicures and lets them pick out the color for his toes

[hargreeves-duncan]

[hargreeves-duncan]

spencer reid in 4.19

[hargreeves-duncan]

BILL PULLMAN in THE FAVOR 1994, dir. Donald Petrie

[hargreeves-duncan]

While You Were Sleeping (1995) dir. Jon Turteltaub

[hargreeves-duncan]

Emily Prentiss & Jennifer Jareau

Criminal Minds 13.07

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hi! Could I get the pistachio gelato, with bubblegum sauce and honeycomb pieces, in a waffle cone, please?

Hi, anon! You most certainly can!!

Your order is now ready to collect! 🍨🌸

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ SUBURBAN LEGENDS

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem!BAU!reader

summary: the BAU’s elevator is temperamental, forcing you and jj to talk things out

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.5k

a/n: a stupidly cliche trope for ‘trapped together’ but it had to be done - enjoy!

This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?

The ding of the BAU’s elevator echoed down the hall just as you rounded the corner, case file in one hand, go-bag in the other.

You hadn’t slept last night. In fact, you hadn’t really slept all week. Your mind was constantly whirring, turning the same thoughts over until you felt sick.

And, then you’d been late. Meaning you were now rushing to meet the team on the jet, to fly out to Iowa.

You spotted a familiar sweep of blonde hair disappear just before the elevator doors started to slide shut. You rushed forward.

“Hold it!” you called out, voice bouncing off the walls as your heels thumped frantically against the floor to make it in time.

JJ’s hand shot out, catching the door before it could shut.

Her smile when she looked up at you was polite. Guarded. The kind you gave to a waiter taking your order or a stranger holding the door for you.

It wasn’t the smile you’d grown up with. Certainly not the smile of a best friend of nearly two decades.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping inside and taking care to stand just far enough away that your arm wouldn’t brush against hers.

“No problem,” she replied, her tone breezy in that way she got when she was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. She was holding her clipboard coolly, as if nothing had truly happened.

The air between you wasn’t just awkward, it was suffocating. And you hated it more than anything.

Only a week ago, she’d have been the person you told everything to. JJ had been your person since you were twelve years old.

But things hadn’t been the same since that night, and you both knew it.

The bar was completely packed that night. People filled every corner, chatter and cheers surrounding you as you’d knocked back drink after drink.

JJ’s laugh rose above the thrum of music and chatter, bright and a little too loud. She was drunker than you - noticeably so - and leaning into you for balance as you guided her towards a booth.

She stretched herself out across the table once she sat down, wanting her knees to brush yours under the wood. She was far too stubborn to sit beside you and ask for the touch directly.

“Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk.” you laughed, watching her chase her straw around her glass, trying to grip it between her fingers.

“I’m not even that drunk!” she said, grinning like she didn’t believe your words for a second.

You looked at her pointedly and she gaped at you, smiling, “You’re the one who kept buying me drinks! If we’re pointing fingers, some of them are definitely coming your way.”

“You kept saying ‘just one more.’” you shot back, smirking and tilting your head from side to side as you mimicked her.

“Yeah, well,” she said, smiling amusedly and twirling the straw in her cocktail with lazy precision, “I could do with one more…”

“And I do not sound like that, thank you.”

“Sure you don’t, princess,” you smiled at her over the rim of your glass. She looked ridiculously pretty like this.

Her hair had lost its straightened finish, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy with laughter and alcohol. It was almost unfair.

“Look at those pink cheeks!” you teased, leaning forward to tap the side of her face.

Her brow furrowed and she batted your hand away, “Hey! No! I’m not even that-“

You pulled your compact mirror from your purse and flipped it open, holding it up to her flushed face.

“-pink.” she finished, lips parting as she took in her reflection for the first time since you’d arrived at the bar.

“Oh, wow, okay. I’m a little red,” she admitted, tentatively brushing her fingers over her cheek as she laughed.

“Must be all those drinks,” you said, snapping the compact shut and dropping it back into your purse with a teasing smile.

JJ tried not to think about the way her eyes had lingered on your fingers, and how they’d dwarfed the compact in your palm. Or how her heart had skipped a beat at the sound of the clasp clicking closed. Her cheeks grew brighter.

“Must be.”

JJ’s smile faltered for a moment, her gaze dropping to the table as if she could get courage from the grains of the wood.

“You know,” she began softly, sounding less and less certain by the second, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You raised your eyebrows at her, taking a sip of your drink as you smiled, “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not sure I even like guys,” she confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

You nearly spat your drink over the table, “What?”

“I mean,” she rushed on, her cheeks growing a deeper shade of crimson, “I’m seeing this guy, but it’s not… right. Not like with you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way with anyone else.”

“I’m pretty sure that you’ve managed to ruin everybody else for me.”

You opened your lips to speak, then stopped, unsure of what to actually say. Everything inside you was spinning. You felt like you’d woken up in an alternate dimension.

JJ’s eyes searched yours, vulnerability shining through any haze the alcohol was providing.

She’d never admitted this to anyone. You were the first. She looked utterly terrified.

“Does that scare you?” JJ whispered.

You shook your head, letting out a small laugh, “No, it doesn’t scare me.”

Relief flooded her features. Slowly, she leaned in… and then she kissed you.

You’d replayed that moment constantly since it had happened. The feel of her lips. The hesitant hand that had grazed over your thigh. All of it.

And yet, here you were, standing awkwardly opposite JJ in the elevator like you had no idea what it felt like to hold her in your arms, or to have her kiss down the cavern of your breasts, in the middle of a bar.

The elevator jolted suddenly, the soft hum of the motor stuttering before everything went completely still between floors two and three.

A flicker of panic flashed across JJ’s face, like a rabbit caught in a cage. The lights dimmed.

“Great,” she huffed sarcastically, pressing the emergency button far more times than was necessary, “This is just what we needed.”

The elevator was silent, save for the occasional beep from the emergency panel and the hum of the stalled machinery’s emergency power.

You glanced over at JJ, noticing how her usual level-head had been replaced by tight shoulders and nervous foot-tapping.

“I hate this,” she sighed, her eyes darting towards the ceiling, like it might offer an escape.

“This, as in being stuck in an elevator or this, as in us?”

“Both,” JJ admitted, after a brief pause, “I hate being stuck here as much as I hate the fact that I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Your eyes softened at that.

Dealt with.

Trust JJ to be methodical and solution-focused, even when it came to love.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

JJ looked at you like you’d just handed her a lifeline, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction.

“We’ve known each other forever,” you added gently, “I’m not in a rush to start anything that isn’t ready. Are you?”

She shook her head, smiling softly at the way you threw her own logical way of thinking back at her to calm her nerves, “I guess not.”

“Exactly,” you smiled softly, your hand slipping down to squeeze hers, “We’ve waited this long, right?”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip as she tried not to smile. For the first time in days, the knot of anxiety in your own chest loosened slightly.

As if sensing the change in its dynamic, the elevator suddenly shuddered, a soft jolt signalling that it was coming back to life. The lights brightened, and the hum of the motor rose again.

JJ sighed, half relieved and half disappointed.

“Well, I guess that’s us unstuck,” she said, but her hand didn’t pull away from yours as the elevator started moving down.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the busy streets of D.C., a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the small space you’d just escaped.

You both paused for a moment, still connected by the lingering warmth of her hand in yours.

JJ glanced sideways at you, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. “So… my press conference…” she said softly, nodding towards her clipboard.

You laughed quietly, “Yeah, I’ve got a case briefing waiting for me.”

“Looks like we both have work to do, then,” she gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “But maybe… we could go out later tonight? Drinks?”

“I’d like that,” you nodded as you stepped out onto the street.

With one last shared smile, you let go of her hand, walking ahead, but not without one final glance back at JJ.

Her eyes met yours as she moved towards the growing crowd outside of the Bureau.

And, in that silent exchange, everything that had previously been left unsaid suddenly felt beautifully understood.

tags: @decadentcatcrusade

[hargreeves-duncan]

spencer reid + hands

[hargreeves-duncan]

Could I get the stracciatella gelato, with caramel sause and honeycomb pieces, in a bowl please?

Hi, anon! Thank you so much for your request!

It’s now ready to collect! 🍨🌸

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ I KNOW THE END

visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!reader

summary: you and hotch are captured by the unsub. he’s helpless to try and save you

warnings: canon-typical violence, abduction, death/grief

word count: 2.9k

a/n: oh, how i love and hate writing angst all at once. broke my own heart a little with this one - enjoy🥲🥲

This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?

Aaron woke to the pleasant sensation of your lips trailing over his jaw and down his neck. A groan rumbled out of him.

You smiled against his skin, “G’morning, handsome.”

“Good morning,” he murmured back, his voice still thick with sleep, as he sat up against the headboard, stretching and breathing deep through his nose.

“You stayed over again.”

“I stayed over again,” you echoed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as his eyes adjusted to the daylight spilling in through the window.

His lips quirked faintly at the corner, just enough to give away how much he’d enjoyed waking up like this, to your face.

“You’re going to get me used to this,” he said, hands roaming over your hips, “You, being in my bed.”

You grinned, leaning back on your hands, “And that would be a bad thing because…?”

His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long before he shook his head, the ghost of a smile fading into something unreadable.

“Because it’d take a pretty good reason to get me out of it,” he replied, pecking your lips.

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Jack yelling from behind it, “Daddy!”

You grinned against his lips, “Sounds like your reason just arrived, Daddy.”

He laughed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, to get up, “I’m up, buddy, I’m up. Why don’t you head into the kitchen and take a seat for me?”

“Okay!” Jack chirped in reply, his soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

You slipped out of bed, fingers lingering briefly on Aaron’s arm as you stood up.

“I’m going to get breakfast started,” you said softly, already walking towards the door and after Jack

Aaron stretched one last time, watching you go with that faint smile still tugging at his lips.

Jack’s voice echoed down the hall just as you reached the kitchen, “Auntie Y/N!”

His jaw dropped in shock before erupting into excitable giggles, “You sleeped over again?”

He barreled toward you, wrapping his arms around your leg. You rubbed his back, smiling softly, “I sure did!”

Jack was beaming at you, like you’d hung the moon and the stars. Aaron could’ve cried.

Kids always seemed to love you, but Jack absolutely adored you. After the loss of his mother, knowing someone other than Aaron was looking out for him meant the absolute world.

“Because I love you too much to be away for even two seconds.” you grinned at him, moving toward the cupboards to grab a frying pan - Aaron’s kitchen layout long memorised.

“Now… what do you say to pancakes?”

The smell of pancakes filled the kitchen as Jack chattered happily between bites, and you poured another ladle of batter into the pan.

Aaron watched the two of you, his usual stoic expression softened by the rare, peaceful morning.

But it was fleeting.

His phone buzzed sharply against the counter, cutting through his peace. One of these days, he’d learn to leave. Eventually.

His eyes darkened as he read the message, “We’ve got a lead.”

“We have to go now?”

He nodded, switching off his phone and rising to gather your things. Jack pouted, looking up at you.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you said sympathetically, running your hand over his head, “We’ll finish our pancakes later. Pancake dinner, maybe?”

“Pancakes for dinner? No! That’s weird, Auntie Y/N!” he giggled.

“Okay, no pancakes,” you smiled, weaving around him as you collected your things, trying to balance the playfulness Jack needed with the seriousness of your job. “But I can still stay over tonight, right?”

“You can stay over for always.”

Aaron’s phone buzzed again, as you walked to his car, no time to stop by the Bureau for an SUV. Garcia was calling with updates.

Aaron answered quickly, then handed the phone to you on speaker, “Garcia, what do we know?”

“Well, remember how we said there was a pattern?”

“A pattern of ones, yeah.” you nodded along, glancing at Aaron as he started the car, pulling into the street.

“That’s the one - no pun intended,” you heard the smile in her voice as her nails clacked on her keyboard.

“The bodies were all dumped in what we thought were random places, but that doesn’t fit our lovely pattern of ones.”

“It doesn’t.” Aaron replied, carrying on straight.

“No. So, I plotted them on a map and guess what?” she finished her own adjacency pair with a smile, “All of them were within a mile of this super creepy warehouse.”

Your face turned sour, “So, that’s either where he’s abducting them-“

“Or, it’s where he’s killing them.” Aaron finished grimly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Thanks, Garcia. Keep us posted.”

“Will do, chief.” Garcia replied, before her voice dropped out, leaving you and Aaron to sit in that knowledge.

The warehouse soon came into view. It was an old structure, with boarded-up windows and rust creeping along its steel frame. It looked, for the most part, abandoned.

Aaron parked the car a block away, and tightened the straps on your bulletproof vest, as you slipped it over your head, “Stay close.”

The pair of you moved cautiously towards the front entrance. Aaron drew his gun from his holster.

You were on high alert as you slipped inside. The beams from your flashlights swept over graffiti-covered walls and piles of discarded crates.

“Looks like it’s been abandoned.” Aaron said.

“If it’s abandoned, why is no one here?” you countered, crouching down to examine the lack of dust on the floor.

“There’s no tents or blankets. No homeless people are living here. No beer cans or bottles means no kids are hanging around.”

“This is prime real estate for those two groups. Why isn’t there any sign of them?”

Aaron’s eyes followed yours to the spotless floor, “Who’s been cleaning?”

You stood up with a small sigh, “I have a horrible feeling that we’re about to find out.”

You turned a corner and a tall figure loomed over you.

You gasped, snapping your gun up on instinct.

“Aa-“

The world went black. A heavy blow landed smack dab in the middle of your forehead before you could finish calling out Aaron’s name.

“Y/N.”

Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the harsh light stabbed at your eyes. You blinked against the blur, trying to focus your mind.

You were sitting back to back with someone. Your arms were pinned tightly to your sides, and coarse rope bit into your wrists. You writhed, trying to pull your hands free.

“Don’t. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Aaron?” your voice came out much weaker than you’d expected.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle you too much, pressing his head back against yours, “Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m glad you’re awake.”

Your head throbbed painfully, and your limbs felt leaden, but hearing his voice provided some comfort.

“Where are we?” you croaked.

He sighed softly, “We’re still inside the warehouse. I’m not sure where.”

Panic began to rise in your chest. The ticking of the only furniture in the room - a clock on the wall - didn’t help.

“We’re tied up, but we’re alive. That’s what matters right now. Just breathe, okay? Take a breath.”

Your eyelids drooped again. You sagged, exhaustion nagging at you, and Aaron felt the shift against his back.

He reached blindly for your hand, “Y/N, hey. You need to try and stay awake. I can’t help you if you’re not awake.”

You were trying, but it was so hard. You wanted nothing more than to close your eyes. The throbbing in your head was unbearable.

Aaron was there. He’d protect you if something went wrong.

“That’s right, I’m right here. I’m going to get us out of this.”

Oh. You’d said that out loud.

At least he knew that he was doing a good job of comforting you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked yourself awake again. You didn’t remember drifting off, but your limbs felt so heavy that it didn’t surprise you.

Aaron’s voice was closer than before, like he’d turned his head just enough that his cheek brushed against the side of your head. You were grateful for it.

“I should have told you this sooner,” he said quietly, “You mean a lot to me, Y/N. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner. I should have.”

The lump in your throat was immediate, “Aaron-“

“I’m sorry for not saying it before,” he cut in with another apology, more forcefully this time, the words spilling out like they’d been trapped in his chest, “But I’m saying it now. And I’m promising you that I will get you out of here.”

All you could do was shake your head, voice wavering, “You can’t promise something like that, Aaron.”

He’d been here before. He knew what it was like to lose. His chest felt like lead and every beat of his heart pounded with your name over and over again.

All of his logic was gone, replaced by one question that burned a hole in his mind - how could he save you? What could he do to stop it?

He didn’t have an answer.

The clock on the wall chimed midnight, each strike ringing like a death toll.

One unsub. One survivor. One day missing. One in the morning, the body was found, within a one mile radius of the warehouse.

You had pieced the pattern together days ago.

Which meant that there was only one hour left. In sixty minutes, one of you would be dead. And the other would be walking free.

You’d pieced together that your unsub was someone who was driven by an intense need for control. An obsession with order and ritual.

His violence wasn’t random. It was deliberate. Every choice was calculated, bound to some unseen pattern that only he understood.

You assumed he lived alone, isolated by his own compulsions. Most likely, he was unemployed, allowing him the time and space to perform his rituals, all surrounding the number one.

When the unsub finally stepped into the flickering light on the last toll of the clock, the obsessive rhythm of his actions was unmistakable. The number one wasn’t just a number. It was a prison, eating him alive from the inside out.

If only you were learning this all through Garcia, instead of tied to a wooden chair as his captive.

He stepped into the flickering light, calm and methodical. His obsession with order was obvious but from the way he picked at his fingernails, you knew his control was slipping.

The others were closing in on him, then. They must’ve put something on the news that he’d seen. They were coming. You just had to wait him out.

His eyes locked onto you and Aaron, “You think that you’ve figured me out,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter. Your team are too late. By the time they get here, one of you will be dead.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent, head straining to look back at you for a brief moment, before returning to the unsub.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your voice steady, “You don’t have to do this,” you said quietly, eyes searching his face for anything human, “There’s always a way out. You don’t have to keep hurting people. We can get you the help that you need.”

He turned his gaze onto you, eyes flaring wildly, “Shut up!”

His tone was sharp, final.

“Only one person can talk at a time. Why don’t you understand that?!” he yelled, throwing his hands up.

That’s when you noticed the glint of metal in his hand. A gun.

Aaron pressed the back of his head firmly against yours, his fingers reaching out to touch you where they could. He had noticed it too, he was savouring every second you had.

The unsub stepped closer, staring you down with trembling frustration, “You’ve had your chance to speak.”

His eyes darted to the clock, “We have to… You have to do it now.”

His rough hands yanked you from your chair and dragged you to sit opposite Aaron. You stumbled, the ropes bit deeper into your wrists as he forced something into your hands.

The gun.

Your breath hitched.

“You’re going to point that at him,” the Unsub ordered, “One of you is going to die. They have to.”

“No,” you whispered fiercely, panic clawing at your throat as your hands struggled to keep a firm grip on the weapon, “They don’t-“

“We don’t have time! Fire it!” the unsub barked, growing increasingly frustrated with your hesitation. He manipulated your hands until Aaron was directly in your line of fire.

Hotch’s face paled, but his eyes stayed on yours, “Y/N. Listen to me.”

You shook your head harder, “I’m not doing it, Aaron. I won’t.”

“You have to,” he said, the words cutting and raw, “It’s the only way. I told you I would get you out of here, and I meant it. If you shoot me, he’ll have to let you go. One survivor, remember?”

“No, I-“

Shoot.

He wasn’t calling it what it really was. You weren’t just going to shoot your partner. You were going to have to kill him.

You couldn’t do that.

Your every instinct screamed against it. Aaron was a good man, far too good. And Jack - Jack needed his daddy. You couldn’t leave him alone in this world. That wasn’t fair. What did you have to stay for?

It made sense for it to be you. You lived alone. Garcia, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, Reid, Rossi, they’d grieve you. But in a year, you’d be a distant memory. You were expendable. They couldn’t afford to lose Hotch.

You didn’t want to kill him. You didn’t want to kill yourself. But you had to save him.

You wished you could just go back to two days ago, when everything was normal.

God, you’d wasted so much time because you were scared to admit that you loved him.

You would go back and say it a million times over, if only you could.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as he broke his own rule - never show the Unsub fear.

“I love you, Aaron.”

He sat up straighter, desperately writhing in his chair, trying to move into your line of fire or reach you or do anything to not feel so helpless, “No, no, no. Y/N, please. Don’t. Don’t, Y/N, I can’t-“

With the loaded gun in your hands and your finger on the trigger, you threw your weight forward with all your might. A sharp crack split the air as you hit the floor and the gun went off.

Pain blossomed in your side, hot and sudden, and you crumpled. The Unsub kicked you, once, into your side. You didn’t react.

Aaron yelled in horror, voice raw with panic and desperation, “Y/N! Y/N, look at me! Look up at me, Y/N!”

The next few minutes blurred into chaos.

The door slammed open as your team poured into the cramped room. The Unsub was apprehended - John something or other. A surprisingly plain name, you thought.

Morgan was at your side, rolling you over so that you rested in his lap. His fingers pressed against your neck, searching for a pulse.

Aaron was screaming furiously.

“Get the medic! Somebody help her! Help her! You have to do something! Why are you all just standing there? Morgan, get her up!”

JJ was in front of him, holding his shoulders down. Emily worked behind him to undo his binds, “Hotch, he has her. He’s helping her as best he can.”

“No, he isn’t- He’s not doing enough!”

As soon as Aaron’s arms and legs were free, he was on his knees and at your side. Morgan backed off.

“Oh God, oh God…”

There was a lot of blood. So much blood.

Aaron cupped your face, pulling you closer so your body rested against his, “Hey, just open your eyes for me. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Come on.”

Wearily, your eyes just barely fluttered open.

Aaron sobbed, smiling through tears as he stroked your cheek, “There you go. Hi, sweetheart. Hi, there you are. I need you to hold on for me, okay? Just keep your eyes open.”

“Aaron-“

“No. Y/N. You have to… just… they’re almost here. Medics! Where are my medics?” he shouted, becoming increasingly desperate.

His hands were soaked with blood. The floor was soaked with blood.

“I love you.”

Blood. So much blood.

“No, no, no. Don’t say that.” his voice broke, “Please, don’t say that. Oh, God…”

He buried his face in your neck, holding you tighter. You felt like dead weight in his arms, your head slipping away. He cradled it and held you closer.

“Don’t go.”

But you already had. Your breathing no longer brushed against his ear.

“Y/N.” he pulled you away from his chest, his eyes wide with frantic panic.

“Y/N, no. No, no, no. Morgan, JJ, do something! Where are the- where are the medics? I need a medic!”

He clung to you, eyes shut tight, “It’s gonna be okay, alright? Just hold on, sweetheart. I’m here, okay?”

“Hotch.”

Aaron held you tighter still.

Morgan knelt beside him. Footsteps flooded into the room. Voices rang out.

“Hotch.”

He didn’t answer, keeping his face buried against you. If he never came up for air, maybe you wouldn’t be gone.

“Hotch!” Morgan pulled him off of you, with great difficulty. He scrambled to try and get back to you, but the EMTs were already lifting you up and taking you away.

Aaron collapsed into Morgan’s arms, the crippling sense of deja-vu swallowing him whole.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Hi! Can i please have a mango soft serve with rasberry sauce and mini marshmallows in a double come please? :)

Hi, my lovely! Thank you so much for your order, it’s now ready to collect!!

Don’t let it melt! 🍨🌸

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ PARADISE

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: sydney adamu x fem!reader

summary: drinks with your favourite coworker turn into something more

warnings: SMUT - MDNI, alcohol consumption, fingering, semi-public sex

word count: 2.2k

a/n: the fact that there are so few sydney fics is criminal, but i’m always happy to help the drought. enjoy!!

This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?

Working at The Bear could be stressful, at the best of times.

You, along with Sweeps, were one of only two sommeliers, and while your job meant constantly being on your feet, you didn’t envy those working in the kitchen.

The heat and utter chaos under Carmy’s direction were a different kind of pressure altogether.

Sydney knew that better than anyone - she was his right hand.

You liked Sydney. She was incredibly dedicated to her craft, strong and level-headed (at least when work wasn’t pushing her past the limit), and you were 99.9% sure she was queer, which, selfishly, was a major plus.

Over the last few months, you’d grown close. And yes, maybe you’d done a little light social-media stalking to see if she had a dating history. Not because you were trying to be invasive, but because you weren’t the type to ask outright.

The search had still been fruitless, in spite of all the friend-of-a-friend’s profiles that you searched, but you had tried.

One night, after dinner service, Sydney had asked you out for drinks at a nearby bar.

You weren’t entirely sure how she meant it. Was it a date? Or just two good friends/coworkers decompressing? Sydney had the kind of easy charm that made it impossible to tell.

Either way, you were glad for the invite and said yes.

The bar Sydney’d picked was only two blocks from The Bear - a dim, artsy spot, styled to look like an underground cavern. Its red barstools weren’t exactly comfortable to sit on, but you had to appreciate its scenic nature of the place.

You were still in your black suit jacket, skirt, and heels, with your white blouse rolled at the sleeves, from work.

Sydney had been smart enough to bring a change of clothes.

You tried not to read into the fact that she’d brought along a dress of her own to wear out - something you’d only ever seen her wear once, for Ever’s funeral.

“It looks like… crazy,” she said, glancing back at you, as she descended the narrow staircase, ahead of you, “but trust me. The drinks are good, the vibes are good.”

She gestured vaguely with her hands before laughing, “Just… Everything’s good.“

“I trust you,” you smiled, watching her lead the way to the bar.

“Uh, could I get a glass of red? House is fine, thank you,” she told the bartender, her voice calm and her shoulders relaxed in a way that you rarely saw at work.

Something about her relaxed posture around you made your chest feel warm.

You grinned, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at her, “Red wine? Okay…” you laughed, amused and a little impressed at her drink choice in such a dingy bar.

“I know,” Sydney smiled, turning her body inwards as she put on a cheesy voice, “She’s a little fancy today.”

“Okay, fancy.” you laughed, momentarily shifting your attention to the waitress, “I’ll take an Amaretto Sour, please.”

“No wine for you?”

You shook your head, smiling, “No wine for me,” you shrugged, “I actually don’t like wine, so, you know, there’s that.”

Sydney’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she clutched your forearm like you’d just betrayed her entire bloodline, “What? You’re a sommelier! How can you not like wine?”

“Just because I’m a sommelier, I have to like wine?” you asked, trying to disguise the amusement in your voice. The waitress returned at that moment with your drink, and you offered her a smile and a soft, “Thank you.”

Sydney’s squint deepened as she tilted her head, smiling jokingly, “Uh… yes. Didn’t… didn’t anyone tell you?”

“It’s part of the Sommelier Oath. You have to like wine.” she joked, her hand resting gentler on your arm, as if trying to comfort you through the news.

You took a slow sip of your Amaretto Sour, eyes locking with Sydney’s as you grinned, “Oh? I guess I must’ve missed that part.”

“The way I see it, I get paid to know wine, not to like it.”

Sydney laughed, before taking her first sip of wine. She swirled the glass in her hand out of habit, her eyes flicking to yours with an almost teasing glint in them.

“You know,” she said, “if Sweeps heard you say that, he could get you excommunicated from sommelier-ing or something.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware,” you replied, grinning, “I just like to live life on the edge. What can I say?”

You smirked at her over the rim of your glass and her smile widened to match yours.

“Does living life on the edge extend to real life or is that just a wine thing or…?” Sydney teased, tilting her head to the side.

“Just a wine thing. I’m actually incredibly boring outside of work,” you said with a small laugh, taking another sip of your drink

“Oh, okay, alright. I see how it is.” Sydney nodded, edging a little closer until her knee brushed yours, “We’re not close enough for you to share your secrets. That’s fine. That’s cool.”

“No!” you laughed, shaking your head, “Syd, hey… come on, it’s not like that. Really. I’m just super boring.”

“Nobody’s that boring,” she said, shaking her own head with a knowing smile.

Her eyes lingered that little bit longer than usual and she rested her elbow on the bar, propping her chin on her hand, to really study you.

“What’s the real story?” she pressed on.

You shrugged, “Swear to God, there’s no story. Just work, books, maybe a binge watching session, if I’m feeling frisky.”

Sydney laughed at your confession, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass with exaggerated agreement, “Oh wow, yeah, no. You’re totally crazy. Way too wild for me.”

“The wildest person you’ll ever meet,” you joked, finishing your Amaretto Sour and setting it down on the bar.

Sydney’s gaze drifted away from you and to the far corner of the room, where a sign led the way to the women’s bathroom.

“The wildest person I’ll ever meet.” she echoed, then looked back at you with a clever smile.

“You know, the bathrooms in here are pretty nice. How wild are you, exactly?”

Oh.

This was definitely a date, then. And Sydney was definitely into women. She was definitely into you.

She’d just asked you to have sex in a bar bathroom.

Your eyebrows shot up, and you let out a shocked laugh, “Jesus, buy me a drink first, why don’t you?”

She gave you a slow, confident smile, “Oh, but I’m pretty sure I already did.”

Sliding her credit card across the counter to the bartender, she reached down, letting her fingers briefly brush against yours.

Sparks shot up your arm as she took your hand and guided you through the room, weaving between tables, to reach the bathrooms.

Your body felt like it was on fire. You’d never seen this side of Sydney before.

There was no other word for it but wild. You were obsessed.

Sydney pulled you down the dimly lit hallway that led to the bathrooms, her fingers still entwined with yours. The muffled hum of the bar faded behind you, leaving only the two of you in this distinctly intimate setting.

She stopped just before the door, her eyes searching yours for a single sign of hesitation. Then, with a soft smile, she leaned in slightly and said.

“Before we go any further, I just wanna be sure you’re, like… 100% cool with this, baby. Okay?”

Her voice was warm and each word was laced with a genuine care that made your heart swell.

“Okay, yeah. I’m… I’m more than cool,” you whispered, matching her gaze and eager to please, “I want this.”

Sydney’s smile deepened, and with a teasing glint, she pressed her palm lightly to your cheek, “Good. That’s so good, because you look so beautiful right now and I need you more than anything.”

She pulled you through the door, closing it softly behind you, before you could reply.

You looked around the small room and laughed, “Wow, you weren’t kidding. They really do have nice bathrooms here.”

The walls were covered in wine-red wallpaper, patterned with swirling birds and flowers - the kind you’d find on old tapestries - and the sink and mirror were trimmed in gold.

“I told you,” Sydney replied, pressing you against the locked door with a coy smile.

“You sure did,” you replied, cupping her face with one hand, whilst draping the other over her shoulder.

“Somehow,” you mused, drawing her closer, “it makes the fact that we’re about to have sex in a bathroom feel a whole lot classier.”

Sydney’s breath hitched as your fingers traced the line of her jaw, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before meeting yours again.

Without breaking eye contact, she leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. Except, you didn’t.

Your lips brushed hers, soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters.

When she parted her lips slightly, for you, the kiss deepened, growing suddenly desperate and hungry.

Sydney’s hand slid from your waist, up to cup the back of your neck, as she pulled you impossibly closer.

Her hands moved quickly and thoroughly over the length of your body and, sooner rather than later, they were hoisting your skirt up to rest around your waist.

Her fingers skimmed along the insides of your thighs as the fabric of your skirt rose higher, leaving your skin exposed to her.

You caught your breath when her hand slipped over the edge of your underwear, fingertips, tracing soft, teasing circles over you, through the thin material.

Sydney’s eyes locked onto yours, silently asking your permission.

You nodded, heart pounding and breathless with anticipation.

Her fingers moved deftly to pull your panties, not down but, to the side, letting the fabric create a delicious friction against her fingers and your thigh as she dipped a finger inside of you.

You were already undeniably soaked. Just seeing Sydney in that dress was enough to do that.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” she said softly, running her fingers through your slick folds in a shocked awe.

“‘Cause of you,” you breathed back, pressing yourself harder against the door as she slipped a second finger inside, gently curling them.

A shiver ran through you. Sydney smiled, pecking your shoulder, “This is all for me? Thank you, baby. You shouldn’t have.”

She grinned teasingly, pressing kisses up your shoulder and along your neck, her fingers continuing their slow, steady rhythm in and out of you.

The playful lilt in her voice was maddening. She was thanking you for your soaked pussy like you’d gifted her flowers.

For someone who was almost always on the verge of an anxiety attack, you couldn’t believe how level-headed Sydney was in the bedroom.

She was completely and utterly in control. In that moment, you’d have done anything she asked of you.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” she breathed against your neck, kissing there once more. Her fingers curled tightly and you let out a small whine, hips twitching.

“Is that the right spot? Right there?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, tugging her closer and lifting her head to press your forehead against hers, “Right there, Syd. Yeah.”

“Here?” she curled her fingers just right again and you moaned, nodding. She watched your eyelids flutter with want and couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across her face, “Is that it?”

“Mmph… fuck, yeah. Right there.”

Sydney’s fingers moved with deliberate patience, aiming to draw out every possible flicker of pleasure from your body.

Her thumb brushed over the sensitive skin of your clit, making your thighs clamp down around her hand. You could only groan at the sensation.

Your hands found their way to her back, and you were thankful, in that moment, that her dress was backless. You pressed your palms against the smooth, bare skin, pulling her flush against you.

Feeling her skin against yours was intoxicating. You felt euphoric, as her fingers never relented their pace, pressing deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust.

“God, baby,” she whispered, her voice dangerously thick with desire, “You look so, so pretty.”

You gasped softly, as her fingers moved a little faster. Your legs trembled, your back arching against the door, “Syd, fuck, wait-“

Her other hand slid up to cradle your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over your jaw as she looked at you, “No. I want you to come. Please, come on my fingers, babe. You’d look so pretty.”

You tilted your head, to have your lips on hers again. Her kiss, her fingers, her scent, it was all too overwhelming for your senses. You found yourself grinding with the rhythm of her fingers.

Your hands tightened on her back, pulling her even closer, as a heat bloomed in your belly. Sydney pressed her thumb more fiercely against your clit.

You pulled back, panting.

“Fuck, Syd…” you moaned, your voice barely distinguishable amongst your heavy; ragged breaths.

“You got it. Come on, baby. Come for me.” she coaxed, her assault of kisses moving down to your neck and jaw again - a place that was quickly becoming her favourite.

“Y/N, come for me, babe. Come on.”

You gasped. Your body tensed, the coil in your stomach snapping loose as your orgasm washed through you.

Tonight had been the first time that you’d kissed Sydney, and you had no intention of letting it be the last.

tags: @spookyfunhottub

[hargreeves-duncan]

hi i’d like to order a hazelnut gelato with chocolate sauce and chocolate flake in a double waffle cone! tysm!

Hi there, anon! Thank you for your order, it’s now ready to collect! 🍨🌸

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ YOU REALLY GOT ME

visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!

pairing: spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

summary: you’re the newest member of the BAU and you can’t figure out why spencer hates your guts

warnings: SMUT - MDNI, switch!Spencer, p in v, handjob, no use of protection, hints to past!Spencelle

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this is absolutely filthy and was heavily inspired by the emily-spencer beef from season 2 but i think it’s fun! i hope you all enjoy! 😉

This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?

He didn’t have to say anything.

It was written all over Spencer’s face from the moment that you’d first set foot into the BAU. He didn’t like you.

At first, you’d understood. Even felt a little sympathetic towards him. You were new and you were imposing on what was his work family, and you knew your predecessor hadn’t left under the nicest circumstances.

Word had long spread throughout the Bureau about the woman who’d gone off-book and killed a man who was only a suspect in a case. You could see why your arrival might’ve been a bitter pill to swallow..

But a year had passed since then. Everyone else had moved on and every member of the BAU had accepted you as one of their own now.

Everyone except the great Dr. Spencer Reid.

From him, you got nothing but short-tempered snapping and passive-aggressive quips.

He’d conveniently “forget” to let you know when new information dropped from Garcia. A feat that was incredibly impressive for someone with an eidetic memory.

Paperwork that you needed from him would only materialise days after its deadline, even though you’d seen him finishing it days earlier.

David Rossi, who’d previously worked for the BAU but had only came out of retirement a month ago, was receiving nothing but praise and excitement from Spencer, which only served to make you more frustrated. What did he have that you didn’t? A book?

Despite all of this, you’d been nothing but nice to him, which made the entire ordeal that much more confusing.

From where you were standing, it seemed like your very existence was what pissed him off. And there wasn’t much that you could do to change that.

The latest case had been dragging on. What was supposed to be a quick-and-easy one-day job was now anything but. There were too many leads and too many pieces that didn’t fit.

Which meant, the BAU were piled into two SUVs and sent towards the nearest motel for the night.

You were sat in the backseat, doing your best not to take notice of how Spencer had angled his body towards the window and away from you.

You wondered, sometimes, if it wasn’t really you that was the problem, but the woman you’d replaced.

You didn’t have to be a profiler, or a genius, to notice the way Spencer’s hackles went up whenever the name ‘Elle Greenaway’ was mentioned.

You didn’t know much about her and the look on Garcia’s face when you’d brought up Spencer’s behaviour told you that it wasn’t something to ask about.

She was a ghost of the BAU and as much as you wanted to get along with all of your team, you didn’t want to go around digging up the past.

It wasn’t much longer before your car pulled into the motel’s parking lot. Hotch was already out of the lead SUV by the time you got out, folder tucked under one arm as he strode towards the front office.

The rest of the team followed, bathed in the neon-pink ‘Vacancy’ sign’s light, and stretching out stiff limbs as they went, go-bags in hand.

When you pushed open the motel door and lugged your bag into the dimly lit foyer, Hotch was already handing out room keys.

He went down the line, pressing a key into each agent’s hand, “Prentiss and JJ, you’re in 3B. Morgan and Garcia, 4E. Reid, L/N, 4F.”

“What?” Spencer’s face snapped up towards Hotch in horror, like he’d just grown three heads.

Hotch continued, unfazed, “Agent Rossi and I will be in 3A, if any of you need anything.”

“Hotch, with all due respect-“

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch cut in, raising a hand and silencing him with one fierce look, “We’re short on rooms and everyone has to share.”

“Yes, but-“

“No, Reid.” Hotch’s voice was firm and final, his stare hard. There’s be no getting out of this.

“Under no circumstances are any of you to switch rooms. You’ve been placed where you are so the Bureau knows your exact location should we need you. Do not meddle with that. Do I make myself clear?”

Spencer clenched his jaw, the keycard pressed between his fingers like he might snap it in half, “Crystal.”

But, saying that didn’t stop him from immediately veering towards the front desk the moment that Hotch disappeared down the corridor.

Unfortunately for you, it was one key per room, so you had to trail behind him.

“Good evening,” Spencer started, anxiously tapping the keycard on the counter, “I was wondering if there might be any possibility of switching rooms? There’s been some kind of a mix-up.”

The clerk shook his head slowly, “Sorry, sir, all our rooms are taken. Got a full house tonight with you ladies and gents joining us.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened as he glanced back at you. You’d barely taken one step forward when he stopped and pivoted, heading toward Morgan and Garcia who were sorting through their bags near the parking lot.

“Hey, Morgan, you think you could-“

Morgan’s smirk was immediate, “Nice try. Hotch told us not to, genius. You gonna take that up with him?”

“I doubt it. And, besides,” Garcia grinned salaciously, wrapping her arm around Derek’s, “I’m quite happy with my room as it is.”

Derek laughed, putting a hand over hers, “Easy there, tiger.”

“It’ll be good for you two to work things out.”

Spencer disagreed. The rejection hit him hard, his shoulders slumping like a deflated balloon as he grumbled, “Fine.”

“It’ll be good for us all.” you heard Morgan mutter under his breath as Spencer walked away. You’d weren’t sure you believed him. That’d only be true if you made it through the night.

You waited, expecting Spencer to resign himself to the inevitable and make his way over to you.

But, no. He was turning towards JJ and Prentiss.

“Uh-uh, Reid. Not a chance. Turn it around.” Prentiss shook her head, smiling.

“Emily, please-“

“Nope.” she said, popping the ‘p’ as she picked up her go-bag and walked deeper into the motel, JJ not far behind her.

Spencer groaned in frustration and dropped onto the foyer’s old, padded chair. You stood awkwardly beside him, twirling your bag in your hand, “Come on, it’s just for one night. It can’t be that awful.”

It turns out, it could be that awful.

When you finally got up to your room, you found that not only would you be sharing a room with Spencer Reid, you’d be sharing a bed with him too.

One double bed.

That was all the room had. No singles. No pullout. No uncomfortable couch. Just one bed.

Spencer’s eyes widened comically at the sight of it. His lips thinned into a line.

You dropped your bag onto the desk against the wall, “You look terrified, Reid.”

“There’s only one bed.” he said aloud, his voice thick with disbelief. You, the woman he’d been treating like the bane of his existence, were about to be cozied up to him under motel bed covers. He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” you raised your eyebrows at him, half-joking, half-please-don’t-say-yes-I-don’t-want-to-sleep-on-the-floor-but-I-feel-like-you-want-me-to.

Spencer looked between you and the bed that was fit for one, maybe a cuddly two, at the very best. You were no cuddly couple, but he couldn’t turn you away.

“No, that… won’t be necessary.” he shook his head, beginning to unpack his things - full-length, dark red pyjamas, his glasses, two books, his toothbrush and his clothes for tomorrow morning.

“Alright, then,” you nodded, pleasantly surprised, as you unpacked your own bag.

He wasn’t kicking you out. That was progress, if you ever saw it.

But the two of you still moved around the small room with measured steps, as if you were taking special care not to invade one other’s space.

He sat down on the left side of the bed, opening a book and skimming the pages in under five seconds, which you had to admit was incredibly impressive.

What you didn’t note, at first, were the spectacles now perched on his face and your lips parted into a soft ‘o’ before you could stop them.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I don’t. Usually.” Spencer cleared his throat, eyes flitting over his pages, a little slower now, “I mostly wear contact lenses.”

Turning away from him, you changed into your pyjamas.

Spencer tried not to let himself become distracted from his book, pulling his knees up, blocking you from his view.

“Huh,” you mused when you were done, walking over and pulling back the covers to settle in beside him, “You should wear them more often. You suit them.”

Spencer swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as his finger faltered on his book, “Uh… thank you.”

You smirked to yourself, lying back against the pillows. It was a welcome change to see him flustered by you, rather than irritated.

Despite the invisible divide between you, you could feel the heat radiating from him.

Spencer cleared his throat again, eyes fixed firmly on his book, except he hadn’t turned the page in a while. He was just staring.

You shifted slightly, the sheets rustling and, as if on reflex, his grip on the book tightened.

“Are you actually reading that,” you teased, turning your head towards him, “or are you just staring at the same sentence to avoid looking at me?”

That earned you a quick side glance and a shake of his head, “I’m reading,” he said defensively, though the pink creeping up his ears told another story.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, leaning back against the headboard.

A short silence settled over you both and you waited. Leaving space for him to speak up first.

And, just as you’d hoped, without looking up, Spencer did, “You make it… hard to concentrate.”

“How so?” Your gaze flickered over him - the flush on his cheeks, the white-knuckle grip on his book, the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

This wasn’t hatred.

There was a very fine line between love and hate, and it looked like Spencer Reid had been walking it, like a tightrope, all this time.

Your question hung between you, unanswered. Spencer finally closed his book over, “It’s… distracting,” he repeated.

“Me, lying here in my pyjamas, minding my own business, is distracting?” you tilted your head, raising your eyebrows at him.

His eyes finally flicked up from his book and met yours, pupils blow wide.

“Yes,” he said simply, the word almost a confession.

You shifted again, slow enough to make the mattress dip and force him to brace his hand between you. The space between you was growing smaller. You could see the faint twitch in his jaw now, the sweat at his brow.

“Really?” you challenged, “because you’ve been acting like you can’t stand me for months.”

He exhaled sharply, almost a laugh, but not quite convinced, “It- This felt wrong. I thought if I pushed you away, maybe this feeling would go away.“

“And how’s that working out for you?” you asked, your knee brushing his under the thin blanket.

Spencer’s lips parted, and for a moment, you thought he might still retreat. Instead, his gaze flicked down to your mouth.

“Terribly,” he admitted.

“Hm,” you replied, your own eyes drifting over his face, “Well, suppressing emotions only serves to make them resurface stronger. You, of all people, should’ve known that.”

“Maybe, I should’ve,” he nodded, sitting up and pressing one hand into the mattress. His book slipped off of his lap.

“But, I didn’t want to mess this up. I’ve already done that once before, I really don’t want us to end like that.”

You knew who he was talking about. Elle.

So, it was fear, then. Fear of what could go wrong. He was self-sabotaging to the nth degree. Pushing you away, before you even had the chance to show him that things could be good.

“You don’t think that, maybe, pushing me away before we even get to try is what’s going wrong?” you asked, hand sliding beneath the covers.

Spencer’s breath hitched.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he murmured, eyes following the outline of your hand beneath the covers.

Your hand edged closer to him, fingers brushing the back of his wrist, feeling the subtle pulse of his heartbeat.

“You never thought of giving us a try? That possibility never even crossed your mind?”

“No, never,” he said quietly, his fingers twitching nervously and knocking against your own.

“You can’t live in fear forever, Spencer,” you shook your head, pulling back the covers slightly as you moved closer to him, yet again.

“How about this?” you lowered your voice, brushing his leg to the side to settle between his legs.

He didn’t stop you.

“One kiss,” you whispered, “and if you hate it, and you can’t face it, we stop.”

He hesitated, eyes flickering over you, caught somewhere between doubt and desire.

He swallowed, hard. Here you were, one word away from being sat in his lap, after months of rejecting even the thought of entertaining something with you.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Reid.”

His fingers curled gently around yours, as if anchoring himself to the moment.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Spencer leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours. The room seemed to shrink, leaving only you and Reid.

Your heart stuttered. He moved in, his hands moving instantly to cup your face, the eager chase of his lips lighting a fire inside of you.

You deepened the kiss, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against your lips, taking it as an opportunity to do the same. His hands reached up and grabbed at your hair, desperately trying to be closer to you, any way he could.

You moved to pull back but his hands caught hold of your pyjama vest, tugging you back towards him, “No, I… I can handle it. I want to. Please.”

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and vulnerable, like some kind of tortured deer, pleading with you.

In that moment, you’d never been more attracted to Spencer in your life.

You were straddling his lap, before he could open his lips to beg for you again. A low groan escaped you the instant your body met his. Even through his pajama pants, you could feel the outline of him.

You were embarrassingly turned on from nothing more than a kiss.

Your hands slid up around his neck, pulling him into another desperate kiss. His fingers fell to your waist, slipping lower to cup the curve of your hips and then your ass.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you began to grind against him, moaning between each heated kiss.

Your fingers reached up and swiftly pulled his glasses off his face. With his lenses out of the way, you only grew more feral.

Your nose smashed against his as you tried to push yourself as close to Spencer as was humanly possible, needing to feel him against you, in his entirety.

Spencer’s hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. His breath was shaky and you heard the softest, smallest whine escape his lips. You nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” he murmured against your mouth needily, “Please, I need you.”

His eyes searched yours, wide and desperate, like he was silently begging for more. You were going to give him all of it.

“God, Spence…” you sighed as you looked him over, breathless and just as needy as he was - though you hid it better.

You could feel his body trembling beneath yours, shaking with pure want. Your thighs twitched against him.

“Please, please, please,” he begged again, whimpering, fully aware of the effect his pleading had on you.

“I promise, I… Please. I’ve wanted you like this for so long, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head to the side and cupping his face, brushing the corner of his mouth with your thumb.

His face arched into your palm as he nodded.

“You’re so cute.” you smiled softly, pecking his cheek. He shivered and you felt your resolve crumble, his whispered pleas destroying the last of your hesitation.

“I’m all yours,” you promised, hands moving to the elastic waistband of his pyjamas.

“Oh, God,” he breathed out, his head falling back against the headboard with a soft thump, lips quivering, “Thank you.”

Spencer’s fingers reached out to squeeze around your wrist as you slid his pajama bottoms down. He gasped, twitching beneath your touch, his length standing to attention, all for you.

“So pretty,” you cooed softly, sitting just back from where he wanted you most.

He swallowed hard, his hands pulling away briefly, running up and down his thighs as if trying to steady himself.

“Don’t hold back, Spence,” you said lowly, your fingers curling around his length and beginning to move up and down, torturously slowly.

His hands were everywhere then. Over his eyes, behind his head, back to his thighs, then onto your arms and shoulders.

He didn’t know where to put them, overwhelmed by the sensation. You were far too good at this.

Your touch had him unraveling fast.

“Faster, please,” he stammered, the plea no more audible than a breath. His hips twitched upward, chasing the rhythm you set, helplessly.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You’re so sensitive, Spence… your poor thing. So worked up.”

He was painfully hard in your hand, pink and twitching with every small movement of your wrist.

“I am,” he whined, voice breaking halfway through his words, “God, I can’t even think straight.”

“That’s okay,” you soothed, your hand never slowing. You began to pepper kisses against his neck, “Let me do your thinking for you.”

He whined again, the sound muffled against his own shoulder as his free hand blindly sought yours, gripping it tightly. His thighs were shaking frighteningly now, his every breath coming faster.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” you murmured, feeling him twitch over and over again in your hand.

He nodded frantically, too far gone to form coherent words, his mouth hanging open as he tried to hold himself back.

His hips stuttered, his back arched off of the bed, his head hitting the headboard, “Oh God, Y/N, please-“

The rest of his plea dissolved into a broken gasp as he shuddered, thick ropes of his come spilling over your hand and hips. You gasped, your own body tightening in response.

He heaved a ragged breath against you, collapsing forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder.

“Not so fast, soldier,” you teased, guiding him upright again and pressing his back into the headboard, “What about me?”

“I- You-“ Spencer stuttered, eyes darting between your smug smile and the mess that you’d made of him, in his lap. His cheeks burned hot, still catching his breath.

He licked his lips, something in his eyes changing as he murmured, “Lie back for me.”

You obeyed without protest, watching him settle between your legs. His hands moved with meticulous precision. His fingers hooked into your waistband and tugged down.

You let your eyes fall shut as you melted into the pillow. Not even the lumpy, motel mattress could ruin the rush of heat as Spencer eased himself between your thighs.

He rubbed himself along the slick length of your cunt, brushing over the swell of your stomach, teasing you.

“Spence, don’t, just…”

“I know,” he hummed, fingers ghosting over your hips.

The pleading, babbling man from moments earlier had disappeared, replaced by someone darker and calmer. In control.

Spencer’s eyes never left yours as his hands slid from your hips to trace slow, deliberate circles along your sides. His touch was confident now, no hesitation, no doubt, only an intoxicating certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

He dipped his head, pressing a featherlight trail of kisses from your collarbone down to the swell of your breasts. His breath was hot against your skin.

“Tell me what it is that you want,” he whispered.

You groaned, heat pooling between your legs, “I want you, Spence.”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a kiss. His hands gripped your thighs, pressing you closer as his hips pressed firmly against yours.

His tongue traced your bottom lip before slipping inside. You moaned, struggling to sit up, with him pinning you down, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer.

Spencer understood your wordless message perfectly.

He shifted, his eyes locking with yours and pressed his length just barely inside of you.

“Spence…”

He pushed deeper, letting you take him fully, the remnants of his last orgasm smearing across your thighs.

You whined, reaching behind your head to clutch at your pillow as you did so.

Every one of his thrusts were measured and in perfect rhythm. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had studied how exactly to best get a girl going, because you were wetter than you’d ever been.

“Tell me, Y/N.” he prompted you, ridiculously proud of himself as he admired the cock-drunk look on your face.

“More… don’t stop, Spence. Fuck. Don’t fucking stop.”

He deepened his pace, every thrust hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you, without fail.

The room seemed to fade away until all that existed was Spencer and you and the unbelievable feeling of him inside of you.

The next morning, the two of you headed down to the lobby for 8:00, as Hotch had instructed.

“Well, howdy, lovebirds,” Garcia greeted with a grin as you entered, Spencer holding the door open for you.

Both of you froze.

“Excuse me?” you asked, glancing around at the rest of the BAU, who were all watching you with matching, knowing expressions.

Morgan smirked, “You two had quite the night. Should’ve warned us so we could’ve brought earplugs.”

Spencer’s cheeks burned crimson as he stumbled for words, “I- How did you-“

Garcia cut in, “The walls here? Incredibly thin, munchkin. We had entirely unwilling, front-row seats to that performance.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. There was no such thing as a secret in this unit.

“We’ll discuss this when we get back to D.C.,” Hotch sighed - though it sounded more like relief than his usual disappointment when it came to you and Reid.

“Let’s get this man a coffee,” Morgan clapped Spencer on the shoulder, “You’re gonna need it with the little sleep you got, man.”

tags: @xxfairyqueenxx @koreluvsspring @gaslightgatekeepgirlbossgasly @lover-of-books-and-tea @cynbx