#Pre-BAU and start of BAU (for Derek)

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Rinse; Repeat

Words: 4,478, chapter one of probably two.

Rated: Handle with care, cw suicidal thoughts/discussion, canon typical violence, hints at abuse/bullying

Summary: Spencer and Derek meet before either of them are in the BAU. Spencer is hesitant as a deer to be close and all Derek wants is to be close (so does Spencer). Spencer is clearly Troubled and Derek just wants to love him softly, honestly. Like filtered afternoon sunlight and sepia filters.

but for real I just, I saw a post that made me laugh and go 'ahaha, unless?' and then sat down uncomfortably on the floor for three hours and wrote this.

For my own comfort/entertainment, Derek and Spencer are closer in age than my recent google search would lead me to believe. Thank (●'◡'●)

---- 2003

Derek was having a truly sucky day. The academy was rough, and as good as he was at all the physical stuff, there were some real smart people and he was so scared that he was all brawn and no brain. Not that he’d readily use the word ‘scared’ to describe himself if he could help it, but he was.

But realistically, he did get this far. So he did have some of the brain, but was it enough? Had he set his sights too high on the BAU?

Still, the doubt and insecurity wasn’t going to have him quit early. Partly because he really, really wanted this, but also partly because what would he tell his family if he’d put so much time into this and failed?

They’d comfort him and say they’re proud; he knows it. But would he be proud?

He doesn’t want to find out.

Dead tired despite the lack of physical training that day, he walked through the house and out to the balcony, only part stopping to shed his jacket and backpack.

The sun was long gone by now, and the stars were too hidden in such a built up area, but he braced himself with his arms on the railing and stretched his neck, trying to relax.

God, how many people even got through the academy each year?

“Chances are, if you’re already in the academy, you’ll come out the other side.”

God?

Had he asked that aloud?

Derek just about jumped out of his skin, training be damned. He was on the top floor and roof access was blocked. He must have made some sort of noise, because the sad, quiet voice came again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t… Startled.” Derek rubbed his forehead, hoping his voice didn’t sound it; startled. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that organically in conversation, more something you come across in text, in books and things.

“Oh. Sorry for assuming?” The speaker was hesitant, like they’d started apologising before they really knew why. Curious, and not thrilled someone had roof access and it wasn’t the guy (and his sister) who had the top floor apartment, Derek leaned out over the railing and twisted his neck, trying to see who answered him.

Before he could get a glimpse, he heard them step back.

How close to the edge was he? He watched as a bit of rubble fell past him and to the concrete below.

“I don’t think that’s something you need to apologise for, man. How’d you get up there, anyway? I was told we weren’t allowed because they don’t have railings. Or insurance, I think.”

“Well, that makes sense. Although a fall from a five story building isn’t guaranteed to be fatal; you’re better off on the eighth floor for that. But then again, there have been people that survived from even that height so, you can’t really win, can you? If you’re scared of heights or something.”

Derek’s curiosity took a quick dive into concern that sped right down to worry.

“Now I think you got that the wrong way around, better off on the lower floors if there’s no railing, right?”

There was a long pause, and Derek wondered if he’d be able to get up onto the roof in a reasonable amount of time if he had a sense of urgency pushing him.

“Perhaps. Can you imagine the injuries you’d be left with after surviving the fall?” He heard a foot scuff the ground above him and thought he’d started sweating despite the cool breeze. “It’d really suck to not have insurance then, huh? As the building owner, I mean.”

“Okay man, well, that’s a dark topic. And since there’s no railing, or maybe no seats up there either, why don’t you join me on my balcony instead? I might even be able to find a beer or something for you.”

“It’s not safe to go into a stranger’s house.”

“It’s not safe to think about people surviving and not surviving falls while you’re alone on a rooftop, close to the edge, and there’s no railing.”

“Well… Perhaps that’s a reasonable counterpoint.”

And that’s how Derek started becoming friends with a bundle of limbs and greasy hair that hid an incredible but haunted mind.

–

Spencer didn’t have a phone, so he’d just show up at Derek’s apartment intermittently. Well, his and Sarah’s. His mother had put money towards them renting it for the duration of Derek’s time at the academy and Sarah’s short term study since they lined up almost the same, with him likely finding some place more permanent for himself after.

He didn’t do well in the claustrophobic, shared dorms of the academy so would escape to the apartment when he could, and Sarah was completing her course close enough to make the apartment almost worth it. 

It had two shoebox rooms, and they had to share a bathroom, but it still had two rooms so it was a step up from the low bar the academy set. But she was out often with friends, study, and a part time job while he was still largely sleeping at the dorm, so they hardly saw each other.

He’d come back to Spencer hanging out near the block only a couple times; he didn’t seem to like loitering, like he was concerned Derek’s neighbours would get suspicious.

More often, though, Derek would go out onto the balcony and make some sort of noise, and Spencer would respond from above. Over time, Derek was relieved to note that Spencer was usually not so close to the edge as he was the first night.

But most of the time, unfortunately, was not all of the time.

Spencer wasn’t all that interested in drinking, but he was interested in sharing whatever he’d learned about recently. He absolutely did not share much about himself at all.

Despite how private Derek felt as a person though, he found he was sharing quite a lot about himself with Spencer. It was hard not to, inviting Spencer into a place he and his sister were living in though. She’d met him in passing once or twice, and had commented after he left, thankfully, about how shy he seemed to be.

Spencer was a bit like butter from the fridge; he needed time to soften up every single time he came over to Derek’s.

His most recent obsession, to Derek's suffering, had been body farms. After finding out that Derek was studying at the academy (which he was loath to share on account of those ever-present insecurities), Spencer had told him that he was interested in criminal behaviour, among other related things.

Not in a ‘watch true crime documentaries just for the nightmares, apparently’ kind of way, but more to work out the why, and sometimes guess at the how, of everything. He’d dropped stupid time into geographical profiling, in Derek’s opinion, for someone who wasn’t pursuing a career in a related field.

“And they have one, a body farm that is, in East Tennessee. Did you know that they run ten week courses there? Something they’ve done recently is watching for changes in hair for a body left in a car for two months. That’s so specific, isn’t it? Hair changes in a car? Although it’s safe to assume they’re obviously looking for more at the same time.”

“Obviously,” Derek agreed.

Spencer was way too excited for the topic at hand.

Derek continued before Spencer went back to talking about something like maggot life cycles. “Okay, so if I get through to being an FBI agent and I see a body in a car, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“You mean when. I don’t have a phone.” Spencer’s lips had a little curve, like he was self-conscious of smiling still but couldn’t help it fully.

“Right, right. Can you tell me how to summon you then, or will I just have to come here and call out at the roof until you appear?”

Now that was definitely a smile. Why did that feel just as good as high test scores?

The next time Derek was at the apartment, Spencer didn’t show. But there was a phone number written on a paper plane that had been thrown onto his balcony. Three, actually, and one he picked up on the way to the apartment that was stuck in a sad, over-pruned and under-watered hedge out front. How many had Spencer made that Derek didn’t find?

Eleven, it turns out. Spencer was a horrible shot, but Derek liked watching his long fingers folding the paper in what was ‘the most aerodynamic plane folding method’ the next time he was over. It felt a little silly to challenge him on it, especially since Derek knew fuck all about the aerodynamics of paper planes. And Spencer called him out on it.

“Superior hand-eye coordination doesn’t mean your plane folding method is superior, it just means you’re good with your hands.”

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, but continued speaking after he let the flush of Spencer’s cheeks sit for a moment.

“So you want me to throw one of yours, to see if I can do it better with your method?”

“It’s a reasonable request. You can’t test two theories for quality results if the testing methods are different.”

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

“You’re an unfair winner, did you know that?”

“So you admit I’m a winner?”

Spencer felt terrible that his next plane hit Derek in the eye, so Derek only milked it for half the time he would have liked to.

Spencer shoved his shoulder when Derek finally caved and laughed, indignant.

“You were playing it up!”

“It’s paper! It can’t hurt me that bad.”

“It did hit your eye. They might be the fastest healing body part, but they’re not impervious.”

“Pretty boy, if you want to kiss it better, I won’t stop you. But you don’t need to worry that much about it.”

Derek saw that sweet rush of colour on Spencer’s neck and cheeks, and the smile he was trying to hide before now took a shy edge as he tried to look casual.

“Well, if I injured you, I should do what I can to help.”

His voice was so quiet that Derek almost missed what he said. He tilted his head in question, raising a brow while trying to figure out if this was more word-based flirting or if one of them would actually take it further for once.

Spencer’s eyes were focused on his fingers, picking at lint that certainly wasn’t on the leg of his pants but held his gaze anyway. His eyes flickered up to Derek’s face though, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips just after.

“Well, you’re the doctor out of the two of us, what do you think I need?”

“I’m not a medical doctor.” Spencer’s voice seemed to be getting quieter, but Derek liked that his gaze was flicking more to Derek’s lips now.

“Maybe so, but I bet you know more about first aid than I do, especially with that fear of germs you got.”

“Me not shaking your hand is normal. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

Derek almost laughed at how embarrassed Spencer looked at that line, but knew if he did Spencer would think he was laughing at him and might take offense.

“So I should kiss you goodbye when you leave? Doctor Reid, who knew you could be so forward?”

“That’s not what I was saying! I just-”

Derek held up his hands, placating, while Spencer seemed to flap his. “Now now handsome, I didn’t say I was opposed.”

Derek thought he was floating when Spencer, so quickly it was barely a kiss, pressed his lips to Derek’s cheek when he left that night.

–

The next time Derek heard Spencer’s voice from above his balcony, he was almost back to his subdued, distanced self from when they first started speaking. It was over an hour before Spencer let Derek coax him inside. He was shocked when Spencer came to his front door, hair lank and pulled forward to try and cover his eye and cheek that were dark with bruising.

“Spencer, what happened?” He ushered the younger man in, directing him to the couch.

“Nothing. An accident. What were you saying about the fitness test?”

“You’re not interested in fitness tests, what happened?” He tried to bring his hand up to Spencer’s cheek, tilt his head up into the light and assess the damage, but Spencer shied away from him, getting up and heading to the kitchen instead.

“I’m interested in the fitness test.”

“I’m not. Since when are you interested in that?”

“Since you’re the one talking about them.” Derek tried not to feel warm and fuzzy with that comment. Spencer was being genuine, the man was a terrible liar, but he gives away shy truths when he wants to distract.

Derek leaned against the tiny kitchen counter while Spencer turned the kettle on.

“I thought you didn’t have tea at night because of the caffeine.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway, so I may as well enjoy a tea.”

Derek scrutinised him, wordlessly getting a still sealed pack of decaf tea from the cupboard and putting it down beside Spencer’s hand on the counter.

“You know this isn’t truly decaffeinated? It’s just lower in comparison to other teas.”

Derek stayed quiet and watched as Spencer started to squirm under his gaze. He turned then to face Derek, a frown on his face that softened when he saw whatever emotion Derek’s expression wasn’t hiding. Concern, probably.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t use your behavioural training on me.”

“I thought I wouldn’t feel the need to with you.”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line before he turned back to the kettle, mumbling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

When Derek put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Spencer jumped, then looked guilty.

“Sorry. I don’t-” He looked at Derek’s hand, which he’d pulled back like he'd been burnt when Spencer flinched at his touch. “I don’t mind.” He wrung his hands, nervous or something like it and unable to look at Derek with that soft red on his cheeks again, marred by bruises. “I don’t mind. The contact, if it’s you. But I’d rather not be surprised by it just now.”

“I get it, pretty boy, and I’m sorry.” He held out his hands, palms up, for Spencer to take. Spencer’s hands shook a little, and he’d forgotten to pour water into his mug now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, I won’t ask how you got- that.” He jutted his chin to try and gesture at Spencer’s purpled skin while his hands were occupied. “But is what I see all you have, or is there more?”

Spencer bit his lip, watching his own thumb as he rubbed it against Derek’s fingers.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer shrugged, still unwilling to meet Derek’s eyes.

“It’s not just that. My face. It’s-...” He lifted their joined hands, but didn’t let go of Derek’s to gesture any better. Instead, he pressed their hands to Derek’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt, then slowly moved them down and around a little to Derek’s sides. The movement was awkward, but Derek appreciated the tight grip on his hands, and the touch Spencer was initiating, and the information being shared all in the way Spencer was capable of.

“It’s all over, isn’t it pretty boy?”

Spencer hesitated, almost nodding before deciding to try and move on. “I don’t know if I qualify for that. Not normally, or especially now.”

The shy smile was back, and too self-deprecating for Derek. But fighting Spencer on that too strong right now would push him away, so he let some of that anger slide away before he spoke.

“You callin’ me a liar, handsome?”

“No, I think I’m calling you a sweet-talker.”

“But a lying sweet talker, hot stuff?” Spencer pursed his lips as he looked up at Derek, finally, to suppress a smile.

“I’m starting to think you have a biased opinion.”

“I’m starting to think you do too, although on the other side of the spectrum. Why are you so hard on yourself?” 

Spencer squeezed Derek’s hands before letting them go, turning back to pour hot water in his mug. Derek bit back a sigh when Spencer changed the subject again.

“So only two weeks before you’re done at the academy, huh?”

Throughout the night, as Spencer started melting into his more comfortable self the longer he was there, he was less aware of the bruising on his face. It wasn’t until he caught his reflection, or Derek staring, or felt it twinge when he smiled too wide, that he remembered it and grew self-conscious again. That he pushed his hair back in the way of it like if Derek couldn’t see it then Spencer could forget he was injured.

He’d foregone contact lenses and worn his glasses that night, like he did most nights, and Derek thought it might be so it felt like there was another barrier between his bruises and the rest of the world.

Derek wanted to kiss them better, and then all the other hurts Spencer seemed to have. And Spencer sure seemed to have a lot of hurts.

Hurts like how his expression tightened when Derek asked about his childhood, his parents, his friends, or his time at school. How Derek, in the earlier days, made a comment about Spencer missing social cues, and heard a bitter ‘well I can’t pick up on cues if I don’t have anyone to teach them to me’ in reply before Spencer tried to cover it up.

How if he had a particularly bad day, he was so jumpy near Derek that Derek almost wanted to sit on his hands to show he wasn’t going to use them for anything.

How on days when Spencer’s eyes were sunken with a lack of sleep, and the clothes he wore showed how thin he was, and he was so so close to the edge of the ledge on the roof above Derek’s apartment that he thought Spencer just might not care if he fell over the edge.

Like he’d had a lifetime of hurts and still had to face more each day, and Derek only saw little slivers of him and couldn’t learn enough to help him as much as Spencer needed; as much as Derek wanted.

God, he was going to make a terrible profiler.

“Derek?” Spencer looked hesitant, and Derek realised he’d spaced out; probably while staring at Spencer’s bruise again going by how he’d tried to angle his face away awkwardly, unable to fully turn and hide it while looking at Derek at the same time.

Derek couldn’t help it, he just kept on staring. Spencer’s tongue darted out to wet his lips again, and Derek’s eyes tracked the movement. He knew Spencer noticed that, too, by the way his breath seemed to stutter.

Slowly, he shuffled forward on the couch, eyes holding Spencer’s gaze as he did so.

This time, Derek’s name from Spencer’s lips was much quieter, like he was asking for something instead of questioning him.

“Spencer,” The younger man’s eyes dropped down, watching as Derek’s hand came up to his arm; his shoulder. Watched it still as it moved higher, cupping his unbruised cheek. Spencer turned his head, almost pressing a kiss to Derek’s palm as his eyes closed and his bruised cheek was fully on display.

“Spencer, I’ll be gentle. May I?”

Spencer didn’t open his eyes, just hummed in agreement, nosing at Derek’s palm. 

Goosebumps broke over Spencer’s neck when Derek’s breath hit his cheek, and Derek felt him shiver. Careful to avoid the worst of it, Derek skated his lips over Spencer’s cheekbone, pressed them just in front of where his earlobe met the back of his jaw, then trailed them down his jawline.

Spencer tipped his head, allowing easier access as Derek watched Spencer’s fingers grip the couch cushion beneath him. Unsure if it was entirely due to sensation or something going on in his mind, Derek didn’t push further. Using his hand on Spencer’s cheek, he turned the man’s head to nudge his nose to Spencer’s.

“This is alright?”

In lieu of an answer, slowly, Spencer lifted his chin and kissed Derek on the lips. Derek’s chest swelled and he smiled into it, his other hand coming up to Spencer’s side.

They shuffled closer to each other, to be able to press themselves into each other more comfortably. Spencer’s mouth opened beneath Derek’s lips, and he could taste that terrible decaf tea and honey, and the cashews Spencer liked to snack on while reading.

He wondered what Spencer would think he tasted like, the cheap vending machine snacks and the god awful protein water he’d bought without realising it was terrible.

Suddenly, he had the urge to brush his teeth. He made to pull away, but Spencer’s fingers curled in his shirt and his resolve weakened.

Their hands were slowly moving over each other, everything was moving so slowly. Sweetly, like they were learning each other and had all the time in the world. Derek’s fingers found the hem of Spencer’s shirt, and he tugged the man’s lower lip between his teeth as his fingers slipped under the fabric and brushed against Spencer’s skin.

God it was soft, but it felt thin, too. He became scared of hurting Spencer, especially when remembering he had some other injuries too. So he kept his touch light, fingers probably tickling as they travelled further up Spencer’s side as Spencer laughed into the kiss.

Spencer tugged at Derek’s collar, then his fingers slipped around to cup the back of Derek’s neck. Caught up in being able to touch, they quickly moved back down, trailing over his shoulder and down his chest, then Spencer’s hands lingered there. They would have moved further down, Derek thinks, with his hands now pushing Spencer’s shirt up, if it weren’t for his sister coming home.

They didn’t realise until they heard her laugh, surprised.

“Oh, Sorry! I didn’t text ahead, my phone died. Go about your business!” She laughed again, more of a giggle, then her bedroom door clicked shut. Spencer was rigid beneath him - when had he pressed Spencer into the couch beneath him?

‘Sorry, Spence, I didn’t-”

Spencer pushed him up and off, the heat flushing his face more than the usual shyness or what Derek might expect from making out on a couch could bring about. More than embarrassment of being caught, even. He scrambled to get up and right his clothes, walking to the door and scooping up his bag on the way.

“Spencer, wait! Where are you going?” He didn’t want to pull Spencer back by catching his arm, knowing the man wouldn’t react well. His eyes seemed watery and Derek was lost.

And he stayed lost, when, after three weeks, Spencer hadn’t come back. His texts went unanswered and when he called the number was disconnected.

And he kept right on being lost when Spencer didn’t come back to visit him before he had to move out.

–--- 2005

Derek scowled at the scene before them. 

“You’re saying someone was turning people into books?”

The local officer walking them through the scene nodded, nose wrinkled but face otherwise resigned.

“Yup. See, we had a couple people go missing here and there. Transients, runaways, you know the type. And we’d thought they went missing by choice. Sure, we looked,” not enough, Derek thought. “But we never thought they’d end up. Well. As books.”

“As books.” Derek’s skin crawled.

Aside from a specific wrinkle in his brow, Hotch didn’t even look perturbed. “These materials, would they be specialised? Potentially unique or traceable?”

“The tanning stuff? Not as far as we can tell. Out here, we got people doing this the normal way, tanning hides and such.  A lot of leather workers out here. As far as we can tell, it’s basically all the same stuff.”

Hotch looked back at Gideon who shrugged and looked at Derek. “He’ll take a breather now that we found his workshop; he’ll need time to set himself up again. Derek, you’re going to a library to speak to someone about human skin book binding.”

Derek and Elle looked at each other before Derek held his hands out, gesturing broadly.

“We just have someone who knows about human skin being made into books?”

Elle smirked at him. “And you get to visit them. How nice.”

Derek wasn’t thrilled about it, and the feeling that his skin was crawling and unclean hadn’t left since they found the workshop their unsub was using. It reeked in both usual and unexpected ways, and the forensic investigator on scene and all too happily told him that urine could be used in the tanning process.

Perhaps a clean, quiet, library would help in easing his mind, but the subject matter wouldn’t. Derek flashed his badge at the desk, and the librarian assistant he’d found nodded without him needing to explain.

“Agent Gideon called ahead, I’ll lead you through to the doctor now. The books were already here, we’ve held them for ages, but the doctor only arrived recently. Good timing, too, what with this horribleness happening.” She chattered as she led him through shelves, picking up carelessly placed books as she went and piling them up on her other arm.

“Wait, the doctor showed up for the books after the murders?” Derek frowned; Gideon hadn’t called that far ahead, had he?

“Yes, though it’s not his first time here. He’s such a joy to have.” She looked at Derek, then laughed. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

Derek shrugged, and she shook her head. Then, they stopped outside a room labelled ‘staff only’, and she knocked before pushing the door open.

Derek patted down his pockets for his notepad and pen, then stopped short when he looked up.

The assistant kept talking.

“So this is the doctor Spencer Reid, the veritable specialist on these books. Our Margaret, who usually cares for these books and who we’d recommend you to normally for this, she’s been unwell. But we’re lucky to have Dr. Reid here,” After that, she looked between the two, and her smile slipped into confusion.

“Do you two know each other?”

Derek swallowed, and Spencer barely moved.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it, then.” She cast a hesitant glance at Spencer, who nodded to her, and she seemed to take that as a sign it was safe for her to leave them alone.

“Spencer?”

[miley1442111]

drunk confession-a.hotchner

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a/n: omg i just started watching dharma and greg (another thomas gibson show) and it's so funny like wtf (greg is such an airhead its adorable)

summary: aaron admits some very cute things when he's drunk.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader

warnings: none

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The team constantly forgets that you and Aaron are together. You two don’t touch each other at all during the job. Both of you are very pda-averse and you like your own space. 

That does not translate to a drunk Aaron.

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

It had been an awful case, and you’d decided to go out with the team for a few drinks. Somehow, Penelope and Derek had gotten Aaron so drunk, that his hands were all over you and he was sporting his little-seen smile. Your co-workers had decided to take the absolute piss out of him for it, which meant you were being mocked as well. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Aaron gushed to the team as he slung an arm over your shoulder.  

“Thanks baby,” you grumbled over the laughing of our coworkers. You could feel Aaron’s hand on your waist slipping lower and you knew you’d have to get him out of here before he did something down-right indecent. “How about we get you home? You look tired,” you offered and he nodded his head like an overactive puppy. 

After one more round of embarrassing questions, you finally get Aaron into a cab and back to your house, thank god this case had been in Washington. You laid him down on the bed and hurried to the bathroom to take off your makeup and get ready for bed before Aaron got up to find you. Jack was long asleep, his babysitter left after you and Aaron came in, a surprised look on his face at seeing the man she’d known to be so put-together in such a state.

“Aar-” You started until you felt his hands on your waist and the rest of his body leaning on your. It took a lot of strength to keep both of you upright and not on the floor but you managed. 

“I wanna go to bed,” he slurred. 

“Then go back to bed,” you laughed.

“With you. Only with you.”

You giggled at him. “I’ll be there in 3 minutes, go lie down-”

“NO. I wanna do everything with you for the rest of my life, I’m not going to bed on my own,” he confessed with a shy smile. His confession sobered you up quite a bit. 

“Aaron, what?” Your chuckle got caught in your throat. 

“I wanna be with you for the rest of my life,” he smiled, puppy-dog eyes making you weak in the knees. 

“You’re drunk,” you dismissed him.

“I’m in love,” he ‘corrected’. 

“You’re very, very drunk.”

“I’m very, very in love,” he chuckled, pressing kisses up your shoulder as you washed away your makeup.  “Imagine it, we’d get married in a nice church, go on our honeymoon in Italy- where you’ve always wanted to go.”

“What about Jack?” You smiled at him. 

“He’d stay with Jessica for a couple weeks, I’d need some time to fuck you properly-”

“Aaron!” You chastised. Aaron became a lot more loose-tongued when he drank as well. 

“What? You don’t complain,” he laughed and it made you laugh. 

“You’re so drunk, and you’re going to be so embarrassed when i tell you in the morning,” you started to lead him to bed as he kept rambling on. 

“And when we get back we’ll find out you’re pregnant, It’ll be a girl, of course. You’ll have no complications and then a year later we’d be pregnant again, twins this time, so we’d have to move. It’ll be two more girls, and then our last kid will be a boy but we’ll also be preoccupied with Jack’s pre-teenager hatred phase so our youngest will probably have the most troublemaker-tendencies, but neither of us will mind because he’ll be so cute,” He smiled. “We’ll get one of those big houses in the country on a bunch of land. And I’ll stay at home with the kids, and you’ll work lecturing at a college nearby and we’ll be so far away from all the horrors of the BAU that we won’t even remember what happened before.”

You didn’t even realise it, but you were tearing up thinking about this beautiful life Aaron had planned for the two of you. 

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” He smiled and turned to you, his arms wrapping around your torso. 

“That sounds perfect,” you whispered through tears. “Perfect Aaron,” you smiled at him and kissed his cheek. 

“Good ‘cause I have the ring picked out, but don’t tell Y/n!” 

“I won’t don’t worry,” you chuckled and kissed his cheek again.

You fell asleep excited to tell him all the embarrassing things he admitted, and excited about the proposal yet to come. 

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Part 2: the morning after

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[misserabella]

brat

spencer reid x f! reader

summary; spencer decides it’s a good day to test your patience by being sassy with you. let’s see if he can keep the act up when you’re punishing him for being a fucking brat.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, s1/s2 spence!, spencer being a brat, cursing, fighting, kind of enemies to lovers, secret relationship, handcuffing (bondage), handjob (s receiving), masturbation (r) (spencer watches), orgasm denial, edging, untouched orgasm, lots of begging, dirty talking, dom! reader and sub! spencer, multiple orgasms, brat taming, piv sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this guys), breeding kink?, hickeys, creampie…

spencer was having a really shitty day. firstly; he had tripped with the sheets of his bed and landed onto the floor with a grunt, secondly; the coffee shop he always stopped by had closed for the day for some electric problems, what left him without his favorite sugary order and with the really not that great tasting bau’s coffee, thirdly; he was stressed out from the constant load of work, specially this really hard case, and lastly; you hadn’t touched him in a week. a whole fucking week.

spencer and you had this… thing going on. it all started after a rough case in which the two of you had fallen into each other’s arms and ended up sleeping together, something that surprised the two of you, since your relationship wasn’t “the best” to be frank. you two argued and bickered a lot like two little kids with crushes, and had been dancing around each other for quite a long time. it was obvious that you liked each other, but nothing had happened until that night. and after that you two were hooked. of course, the team didn’t know. and you had decided that they wouldn’t yet.

“okay, what about those marks on their bodies, they’re not found exactly in the same place or have the same shape but maybe…”

“no offense, y/n, but you don’t really know what you’re talking about do you?” your mouth gaped slightly at the ring in his tone and the squinting of his eyes. you stalked him as he got up from his seat and went towards the board of evidence, taking a marker and starting to write. “we have no evidence, no apparent interaction between the unsub and the victims pre or post mortem and an indistinguishable mo…” he turned around to face the team once again. “should be simple.” he arched his brows with a mocking pout pulling from his pinky lips as sarcasm tinged his voice.

“you know…?” you looked at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. “instead of taking your fucking temper out on us because you’ve had a shitty day, you could take all that energy and use it to help us, reid.” you had to bite down an impressed chuckle by pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek as his pretty hazel eyes rolled at your words.

“and you should save your comments concerning your hate towards me ‘cause it’s hard to give a fuck when you’re the smartest motherfucker in the fbi.”

“spencer.” hotch cut the two of you off before the situation could escalate. “take 5.” he ordered.

“but-“

“now.” he silently thew the marker on the table and walked out of the door, leaving the team astonished by his behavior.

derek whistled, shock written over his face. “what was that?”

you gritted your teeth. fucking brat.

“no fucking idea.” you hissed.

seems like you’d have to teach him a lesson.

“please…!” he’s whimpering, thrashing, his wrists becoming raw from the tugging against the handcuffs that restrained him to the head of your bed.

his cock was beautifully swollen and heavy on your palm, slicked with your spit and his dribbling precum, which can’t stop dripping from the red flushed head. you’re chuckling. his mind was dizzy with the need to cum, his hips sputtering up against the warmth of your hand in need of release. you’d been at this for a while now, bringing him to the edge of an orgasm just to stop all together, squeezing his base, edging him, driving him insane.

“please, i’m sorry…” he begged, gasping, his breathing was ragged, his back arching from the bed you had pinned him down to. you bit harshly down onto his neck, sucking a new bruise that made him whine.

“what did you do, hm?” you inquired him before starting to jerk him once again, humming when more pre cum stained your fingers and the back of your hand. he was making such a fucking mess. he was a fucking mess. and you loved it.

“i-i was a brat…” he whined and you chuckled again at his desperate and breathy answer.

“yeah?”

“yes, yes…” he sounded desperate. it was cute.

“what else?”

“i…” a moan left his lips at the movement of your hand on his cock, up and down, slowly. he was getting lost in that pretty little head of his again. so you stopped, making a pained sound leave his plushy lips. “no, please! please don’t stop!”

“answer me and i’ll keep going, pretty boy.” you thumbed his slit and his whole body shivered in a pretty whine.

“i talked bad at you…” he gulped. “i…i was disrespectful in front of the team.” he gasped, flinching and moaning when you squeezed him. “oh god. fuck. please, please…”

“atta boy. see? that wasn’t difficult.” his adam’s apple bobbed when you spat down on the head of his twitching pretty dick, slicking him up even if he didn’t need it and starting the process of bringing him to the edge once again. after the stress, pent up energy of a whole week and your touch and teasing, it was easy to drive him right to it in a record time. he was a mess of moans and whines, his hips bucking up in the heat and slick of your palm. “looks like you’re about to cum, baby. are you gonna cum?” you inquired him, going faster up and down his cock, and he nodded, whispering little ‘yes’s in between gasps. “i don’t think you deserve it, though, you’ve been such a fucking brat, spencer…” he whimpered. “and all of it for what, hm?” pretty tears started to swell in his eyes as you pushed away your touch from him.

“i just… i just wanted you to touch me.” he whispered, hurt, puppy eyes behind his glasses staring up at you.

“so you went ahead and acted like a fucking brat expecting to win it that way?” you chuckled, incredulous.

he crooked his head, his mouth gaping like a fish in search of words. “please…”

“some pretty pleases ain’t gonna cut it.” you got up and started to undress in front of his eyes, his beautiful cock was flushed and resting against his lower stomach, dribbling white pearls of precum onto his skin. you smirked when you saw it twitch at the sight of your body only on your lace bra and panties. spencer tugged on his restrains when you cupped your breasts obscenely once you had unclasped and thrown away your bra into the pile of clothes decorating the floor of the room. “you like the view, spence?”

his eyes squeezed shut. you were toying with him. he painfully whined, but he still —knowing better— nodded, licking his lips. you hummed, your hands coming down to your panties, your smirk growing when you watched as his eyes followed the trail down and tugged once again at the handcuffs. “you want me to take them off, hm?”

“yes…” he nodded eagerly, his cock twitching at the idea. “please.” he added.

“such good manners… this is what you needed isn’t it, baby? just a little lesson.” you purred, and pushed down the last piece of clothing on your body past your thighs until it fell pooling at your feet. spencer whined needily at the view. you crawled into the bed once again, seating yourself in front of him and spreading open your legs for his hungry eyes. he let out a shaky breath at the sight of your sticky folds and gaping entrance, begging to be filled by him. you hummed as one of your hands made its way down your stomach and in between your legs, your back slightly arching with a soft moan as your fingers bumped your clit. you were soaking wet. spencer moaned as well, fighting his restrains. “hmmm, spencer…” you sighed, touching yourself in front of his hungry eyes, he whined, in need to put his hands on you. “you see this baby? if only you’d been good… you could be fucking me right now…” he whimpered, his hips bucking up in the air in need of relieve.

“please… please, let me touch you, please…” he begged. “i’ll be good, i promise…” you sank two of your fingers inside of your pussy, gasping at the stretch and letting out a moan at the feeling as you started to slowly thrust them in and out. “please baby, please… i need you, i need to touch you…” he pleaded but you ignored him, continuing to touch and pleasure yourself in between gasps and moans. he whined, swallowing harshly, the sound and sight of you was enough to make him about to blow his load. he grunted as he fought with the handcuffs, his cock throbbing in need to be deep inside your cunt.

your fingers curled and your back arched. “fuck, spence…!” he was sure you were moaning his name just to rile him up. and it was working. his wrists were bruised by now, the same color of the hickeys on his neck and chest that you had branded.

“please…” he was desperate now. “please baby, please…”

“spence, i’m gonna cum…!” you gasped, speeding up the curling of your fingers. he whined, it was as if you were touching him, his cock throbbing against his stomach, now with a pool of precum decorating it. he was so close to his own orgasm it scared him. he was not the most experienced, but he had never come untouched, and it was astonishing, ‘cause he was about to do it just by watching you. and it felt so good…

he groaned when he saw it, the way your back arched, the way your mouth hung in a scream and the way creamy white cum coated your fingers and dribbled down onto the mattress, staining the sheets.

he moaned out your name in heavy pants. “i can’t… i can’t.” he babbled. “i can’t hold it…!” he moaned, his hips grinding against the air once, twice, thrice before he was cumming all over himself. untouched. like a fucking teenager.

holy fuck. spencer had come untouched. the thought of it was enough to drive you inane.

“mmph!!!” he moaned once again at the feeling of your tongue on his dick, licking him and his skin clean of his cum. “f-fuck!!” his hips twitched up, and a broken whimper ripped his throat when you straddled him, your soaked cunt against his still sensitive —and hardening— dick. “what are you-oh my god…!” he babbled, his back arching when in a quick succession of movements, you took him, aligned him with your entrance and sat down on him down to the hilt.

“you wasted that pretty load, pretty boy…” you moaned as you started to dirtily ride him, hips and jumps on his cock desperate. you didn’t even wait for the burning of the stretch to subside. “but that’s okay, ‘cause you’re gonna give me another one, huh? gonna cum for me and fill my pussy up just like you wanted.” he whimpered, his body shaking in overstimulation, his hazel puppy eyes welling with tears. “isn’t this what you wanted, baby? what you were begging for?” you sped up and he moaned.

“i can’t, oh god, i can’t…” but he still somehow found himself thrusting up against you in need for more.

“your body doesn’t say the same thing, baby.” you chuckled, amazed by the beautiful reactions he was giving you. “you’re so hard already… and you just came.” you hummed as you bounced on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix with every jump. he moaned, his glasses slightly fogged and crooked, his hair messy and with some strands glued in sweat against his temple and his lips swollen from all the biting. “so pretty… god and you fuck me so good baby, fill me so good…” he whined, gone under the thought of you using him like some toy to get off. he wasn’t even fighting to get off the handcuffs anymore, he was just taking it, and letting you take anything you wanted from him. “being so good for me, spence…” he keened under the praise, his dick twitching in between your walls due to your speeding movements. he wasn’t gonna last. and you knew it.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum…” he moaned, panting, his eyes squeezing shut. “i need to cum… please, please can i cum?” “can i come inside? please let me cum inside, please…” he was begging, and you moaned, feeling your own high approaching, every thrust of his hips up against yours pressing against that perfect spot in between your gummy walls.

“yes, yes, cum inside me baby, fill me up.” you whimpered behind him, your mouth gaping when you felt it, his sticky warm load painting your walls as you kept bouncing on him. “oh my god…”

“fuck, ah, fuckfuckfuck!” he moaned and babbled as he felt you reaching your own high, squeezing and milking him dry.

you two moved against each other to ride out your orgasms, leaving a mess out of the sheets and his cock, now drenched in both your juices.

the two of you were panting as you stilled, his softening dick still inside you as you rested your hands on his chest.

“lesson learned?” you questioned and he gulped, nodding, out of air.

“lesson learned.” “…” “can you uncuff me now?”

bratty spencer💚

[gghostwriter]

Something where the reader is like sunshine, but gets cornered by an unsub and takes them down nosweat, the reader used to play ice hockey so they brawl like hell?

And at a dinner Rossi hosts, the reader offers to help cook but Morgan keeps poking the bear, teasing reader about their crush in spencer so reader asks if she can take this outside and Rossi is like "be my guest, knock him down a peg" and reader almost immediately pins Morgan and gets him to tap out

"Motherfucker I played ice hockey, I'll always win" Penelope is just gushing over reader and reader gives a wink to Spence before heading back to the kitchen to help plate up dinner

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends who Flirt (?); A bit heavier than my usual fluff but still fluff, I guess Warning: CM violence, vague descriptions of fight scenes A/N: Anon, going to be honest, I had a hard time writing this. I don’t have much knowledge on ice hockey or any sport in general so I tried my best to google moves from hockey and defense that I can incorporate here. Also I know you mentioned Reader to be a sunshine type but I kinda tweaked it so the Reader can be sweet and snarky both at the same time. No further editing was done, hope that’s alright and I hope you still enjoy this! Main masterlist

Ice Princess. // Spencer Reid

You’d like to think you were hired to join the highly sought after, golden child of the FBI—The BAU—due to your well rounded resume and skill set. But a year into being part of the team, you were starting to get the feeling you were hand selected to match Dr. Spencer Reid’s intellect and observation skills. In most cases, the two of you were always teamed up, working on geographical profiles, visiting the autopsy labs, and setting base in the police stations. All were an integral part of the job, you understood plus you’ve built an incredible rapport (crush) on the 187 IQ genius, but sometimes you miss the adrenaline and physical leg work that goes through catching an unsub. How is it that Morgan gets to kick down as many doors as he wants and you can’t? 

“Princess, is that what i think it is?” Morgan asked, spotting you enter the bullpen with a large pink Tupperware on hand. “It is isn’t it?”

“Uh huh, but they’re not all for you!” You reached inside to grab two pre-packaged home made cookies and tossed them in his direction. 

He looked at the two pieces he had on hand and back to the Tupperware. “That looks like it holds more than twenty pieces. So how is it I only get two?”

You giggled. “Congratulations SSA Derek Morgan, you know how to estimate.”

“Ha ha very funny, Ice Princess,” he stood to take a peek over your shoulder. “But I was right, what gives Y/N?”

A cup of steaming coffee was placed on your desk, courtesy of Spencer. “Hey Y/N. How was your weekend?” 

You blushed. “It was great! I spent my time at the ice skating rink and baking. Look, cookies!” 

“I see how it is,” Morgan teased, watching the two youngest members blush and flirt with each other. “Does pretty boy over here get more than two pieces?”

“Yes, he does. He gets four to be exact since he’s really nice—”

Morgan averted his eyes and fake coughed ‘crush’ causing you to blush even more than you thought possible.

“—and Hotch gets four, too.” 

“Wait wait,” he held up his hands. “Reid, I get. But Hotch?”

You shrugged. “He is our boss, after all.”

“I can smell the lie from a mile away, Princess. What is it really?” He paused, making eye contact with Spencer before turning back to you.

“Bribery,” they both stated.

You stomped your boot clad foot on the ground, in defense. “No it’s not!”

He laughed. “Face it, Y/N. The big man will never put you in the line of fire, not if he could help it. Don’t you think so, Reid?” 

“He does have a point. The percentage of you being partnered up with Morgan in the past cases was at a measly 3% and you were only partnered up with him because Hotch was also there to cover your back—” the glare you were giving him was enough for him to backtrack. “—Not that you can’t take care of yourself—that’s not what I’m saying, you’re a great agent, you have the skills—” each word intensifying your gaze. “I’ll stop now.” He squeaked out.

Morgan patted his back. “What he meant to say was, Hotch has a soft spot for you and your lean, glitter wearing build. Which reminds me, when will we ever see videos of you twirling and jumping on ice, Princess?”

You laughed, his assumption of you being an ice skating princess never failed to make you chuckle. If only he knew the truth. “Never, Morgan. Never.” 

———

In the grand scheme of things, maybe the universe had heard your grumbles and finally decided to throw you a bone. It happened during the latest case in Florida, a narcissistic male unsub was loose on the streets attacking and kidnapping women that all shared the same physical traits as you. This information was pointed out when the team had found the third victim’s body—mangled and throat deeply slashed that her head was almost severed. They all shared similarities with you—slight build and delicate features. So it came as a no surprise when the unsub set his eyes on you as the next victim.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ears, having been caught in a bear hug attack. “I bet I could snap you in half, like a toothpick. I’ll enjoy breaking you.” 

Bending forward, you twisted your upper body to elbow his face, and breaking free. “Try me.” 

You cursed your luck, having left behind your holster in the hotel room. You were just stepping out to grab a case file left behind in the SUV when the unsub cornered you and made his move.

The smirk on your face seemed to enrage him, enough for him to come charging at you like a bull. You kept your mind cool, feinting to the left—a body fake move from hockey before throwing a heel palm strike straight to his nose, causing it to break and bleed. The unsub howls in pain and while he was pre-occupied, you quickly twist his arm throwing him to the ground.

By the time the remaining members of the team came to your rescue, you were sitting on the unconscious unsub with your hair mused and a saccharine smile on your face. Morgan says nothing, eyebrows raised, as he all but drags the unsub to the nearest police car.

It was during one of the dinner parties hosted by Rossi where the dark skinned, muscular agent goaded you into showing him your moves. 

“C’mon Princess, you can flirt with Lover Boy here later,” He slyly said, noting how close you were standing to Reid who was busy steering the pasta sauce. “I got to know how you took down that unsub.”

You laughed. “Spence, do you hear someone whining? Sounds like a yapping Chihuahua.” 

Spence laughed having spied the indignation on Morgan’s face. “You’re right, Y/N. I didn’t know Rossi got a new family member.”

“Oh hell, I’m no Chihuahua. Do you see these muscles—” He flexed his arms. “I’m more German Shepherd than anything. All the flirting with genius over here has clouded your eyesight, better get that checked out.” 

You scoffed before turning to Rossi for permission who chuckled at the irritation on your usual angelic face. “Be my guest Bambina, knock him down a peg for me but please, do it outside, I’d rather not get blood on my authentic Persian rug.” 

Morgan whooped with glee as he all but ran out to the backyard with you right behind him. He rolled his neck and waved you close. “Hit me with your best shot, Ice Skating Princess.” 

You smiled, not wanting to correct his favorite nickname of you. Before he could utter another word, you ran straight to him, exerting force on your legs and bracing your arms for impact. The tackle making him lose footing which was what you were aiming for then you proceeded to hook your leg behind his, causing him to tumble down and before he even hit the grass, you twisted making him fall chest first and his hands pinned behind him.

“What the—” Morgan struggled to get up. “Alright, alright. You win.” 

You laughed, helping him stand, as the team members all cheered behind you.

“Did they teach you that in skating school or something?” 

“Morgan, I played ice hockey, not ice skating and—” you smirked as his mouth dropped open. “—I always win, motherfucker.” 

“Bambina, language.” Rossi, the mother hen of the group, chided.

You laughed, sending Spencer a wink before skipping to where he was, awestruck and blushing beet red from Penelope’s teasing.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[thewulf]

The Analyst's Arrival || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hi can I request a hotch x bau reader? I'm sure its been done before but I just love your hotch fics!! When Strauss hires the reader without Aaron Hotchner's approval, tensions run high. Hotch is distant and a little mean, but the reader's unwavering positivity and kindness start to chip away at his walls... Read Rest Here

A/N: Really loved writing this one. Hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Yelling, gunshots (non wounded), general CM triggers

The BAU conference room hums quietly with the usual pre-meeting chatter. Derek flicks a crumpled paper ball at Spencer who is engrossed in his latest physics journal. While JJ shares weekend plans with Prentiss. The light mood does little to ease the stiffness in Aaron Hotchner’s posture as he stands at the head of the table with his folders organized neatly in front of him.

The door swings open and Erin Strauss steps in. It was a rare occurrence that immediately draws everyone’s attention. You follow behind her, your confident stride belying the curious glances you receive from the team.

"Good morning, everyone," Strauss begins. Her voice pulling the room into a focused silence. "I’d like you to meet Agent Y/N L/N. She’s joining us from the NYPD where she served in the Major Crimes unit. Agent L/N has a sharp analytical mind and extensive field experience which I’m confident will be invaluable to our team."

Hotchner's eyes narrow slightly, not at you, but at the way Strauss seems to relish the surprise on his face. He had not been informed of this decision—a move that didn't just sidestep his authority but outright ignored it. A move he hated.

As polite smiles and nods pass around the room, Hotchner remains motionless. His gaze finally landing on you. You seem unaffected by the tension your presence has stirred as you returned his scrutiny with a polite, unwavering smile.

"I'm very excited to be here and look forward to working with each of you," you spoke. Your voice steady and warm. "I’ve heard only the best about the BAU team."

"Thank you Agent L/N," Strauss cuts in smoothly. "I’ll leave you in Agent Hotchner’s capable hands." With a final nod Strauss exits, the click of her heels echoing a stark finality to her departure.

There is a brief silence as you linger in the doorway. "Why don’t we get started then?" Hotchner says. His tone more a command than a suggestion. "Morgan, Reid, can you bring Agent L/N up to speed on the current case?"

As the team dives into the details of their latest unsolved case Hotch observes you. You listen intently, asking pertinent questions that demonstrate not just your understanding but your capability to dive right into the deep end. Despite his initial resistance he can't help but admit—albeit grudgingly—that you seem competent.

Yet as the meeting progresses Hotch feels a gnawing sense of irritation. It isn't directed at you, but at Strauss and the situation he’s been forced into. Watching you interact with his team, a part of him wants to see what you can do. To see if Strauss’s confidence in you is justified. But as the leader of the BAU and with walls built from years of leadership, admitting that will take a bit more than just a good first impression.

In the days following your introduction the BAU team falls into a familiar rhythm with you, gradually weaving you into the fabric of their tightly knit group. Spencer shares book recommendations, curious about your interests. While Morgan teases lightly, testing your sense of humor. Prentiss and JJ involve you in their lunch outings often asking about your experiences with the NYPD.

However, Hotchner maintains a professional distance. During briefings he is succinct, his interactions with you strictly businesslike. His questions about your reports are pointed and perhaps harsher than necessary. You sense his doubt. Not just in his words but in the lingering looks that question your conclusions or the slight frown when you speak up during meetings.

One afternoon you're updating the team on a profile you've been developing. "Based on the victimology the unsub is likely someone with a deep-seated resentment towards authority figures. Possibly stemming from a troubled childhood," you explain as you clicked through the presentation slides.

"Seems like a stretch without more evidence," Hotchner interrupts abruptly. His critique hangs in the air. Heavier than the typical scrutiny profiles usually receive. You notice a brief exchange of looks among the team, but they remain silent.

Despite this you maintain your composure, responding calmly. "I'll dive deeper into the case files and see if I can substantiate that with more specific behaviors," you assure him with a nod that's meant to show both your respect for his experience and your confidence in your own skills.

As you work later in the quiet of the empty briefing room refining your profile, Hotchner watches from his office. The light from his desk lamp casts a long shadow and his expression is unreadable. The easy acceptance from others contrasts starkly with his skepticism and it's clear that you have yet to earn his trust.

One evening as you're the last two in the office Hotchner approaches your desk with his usual resolve towards you. "Agent L/N, I want our profiles to be watertight. I can't have assumptions without solid evidence," he states. His voice low and firm.

"I understand, sir," you reply, meeting his gaze. "I appreciate your guidance. I'm here to learn and contribute as effectively as I can."

There's a pause, a moment where something unspoken passes between you. Perhaps it's the acknowledgment of your dedication, or maybe it's Hotchner wrestling with his own reluctance to accept change. He nods curtly and leaves you to your work.

Despite the cold front you don't let it dampen your spirit. Instead, you double down on your efforts, pouring over case files late into the night. You were determined to prove your worth not just to Hotchner, but to yourself. Your positivity and commitment slowly chip away at the team's initial reservations and even though Hotchner remains distant you start to feel like a part of the BAU family.

As weeks pass your insights during case reviews become sharper. Your suggestions more intuitive. The team begins to rely on your judgment. They sought out your opinion, and slowly, very slowly, you notice a thaw in Hotchner's demeanor—a nod here, a less critical question there.

But the wall he has built around him isn't one to crumble quickly and you know that gaining Hotchner's full trust will be a marathon, not a sprint. Still, your unwavering kindness and the diligent sparkle in your eyes during every case discussion continue to sow seeds of change. Even in the stony ground of Hotch’s reserved heart.

A couple of weeks later and Hotch finally decides you’re ready to join the team in the field instead of staying behind with Penelope. Not that you didn’t like working with her you were just craving to do what you were hired to do.

The air is thick with tension as the BAU team arrives at the suspected hideout of the unsub at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It's late, the darkness only broken by the beams of flashlights and the occasional flicker of police sirens in the distance. Hotchner's orders are clear and concise. His voice a calm command over the sound of rustling tactical gear.

"Reid, Y/N, you're with me. Morgan, Prentiss, take the east side. Radio if you make contact. Everyone, stay sharp," Hotchner instructs. His eyes scanning the perimeter before leading you and Reid towards the main entrance.

The warehouse is a labyrinth of shadows and echoing spaces. A place that seems to absorb sound and light alike. You follow Hotch with your senses heightened every training you’ve undergone pulsing through your veins. As you navigate through a maze of crates and discarded machinery, a noise—a soft scuffle, almost imperceptible—catches your attention. You signal to Hotchner and Reid pointing towards a dark corridor off to the left.

"Stay here, cover us," Hotchner whispers. His gun raised as he edges toward the sound with Reid close behind.

You position yourself with your back to a solid surface, gun aimed at the corridor. Your mind races through various scenarios, but nothing prepares you for the sight of a figure lunging out of the shadows. Heading straight for Reid with a knife glinting in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation you break cover, tackling Reid out of the knife’s path. The impact sends you both sprawling to the ground just as Hotchner turns, firing off two quick shots. The unsub goes down, a groan echoing off the walls.

"Reid, you okay?" Hotchner is immediately by your side. His usual stoic demeanor replaced by concern.

"Yeah, thanks to Y/N," Reid gasps. His eyes wide with the adrenaline of the near miss.

Hotchner turns to you. His expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly his features soften, the corners of his eyes crinkling not with frustration, but something akin to gratitude. "Good work, Agent L/N. That was quick thinking."

Your heart pounds not just from the action but also from Hotchner's acknowledgment. "Just doing my job, sir," you manage to choke out though the gravity of the moment isn't lost on you.

As the team secures the scene and paramedics check over everyone Hotchner keeps glancing your way, his gaze lingering longer than usual. In those looks there’s a new respect, perhaps even a reassessment of his earlier doubts about you.

Later, as the team debriefs back at the BAU, Hotch publicly commends your actions. "Agent L/N’s instincts and bravery tonight might have saved Dr. Reid’s life and potentially others. Excellent work."

The team’s applause is warm, genuine, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride. More than the praise it’s Hotchner’s nod of respect towards you that marks a significant shift. It's a turning point not just in your relationship with him but in your place within the team. Your actions have not only proven your worth, but they’ve begun to dismantle the walls Hotchner had built around himself, brick by brick.

In the weeks following the intense warehouse operation the dynamic within the BAU team subtly shifts. You are no longer just the new agent. You have proven yourself as a vital part of the team. Hotchner notices the change not only in how the team interacts with you but also in his own perceptions.

One crisp autumn morning as the trees outside the Quantico offices burst with gold and russet hues, Hotchner finds himself observing you from across the bullpen. You’re assisting Morgan with recalibrating the physical training program for new recruits. The ease with which you handle the task, balancing Morgan’s strength with strategic insights, does not go unnoticed by Hotchner. There's a gentleness mixed with competence in your approach. A stark contrast to the decisive action you displayed in the field.

Later that day, you offer to stay late to help Morgan review the training schedules, ensuring they are optimized for the team’s needs. Garcia joins in eager to add her tech-savvy touch. Hotchner overhears laughter from the office you’re sharing, a sound that is light and genuine, making him pause as he packs up for the night. The sound of friendship and shared effort makes the BAU feel more like a tight nit family and he realizes you are a big part of that shift.

During a team briefing the following week Hotch openly seeks your opinion on the psychological conditioning aspects of the training program. As you outline your thoughts by citing recent research and adaptive training methods he listens intently. The team watches this interaction, clearly seeing Hotchner’s respect for you which influences their own views.

When the team encounters a critical situation with a string of high intensity raids you suggest an innovative tactical maneuver that saves valuable time and minimizes risk. Watching you handle the pressure with composed determination Hotch feels a significant shift within himself—a deep-seated respect for your skills and a growing admiration for your resilience.

It’s not just your professional competence that reshapes his thoughts but also your empathy and dedication. You take the time to ensure that the team is not only prepared physically but supported mentally. A role that enriches the team in ways Hotchner hadn't anticipated.

One evening as everyone is about to leave you pass by Hotchner’s office. He calls you in, an impromptu gesture that surprises even him. “Agent L/N,” he begins, his voice reflecting a mix of professional respect and something more tentative. “I’ve been meaning to say… your work, especially in these past weeks, has been exemplary. I initially misjudged you and I want you to know I appreciate what you bring to the team.”

Your response is a nod accompanied by a warm smile, but his words catch you off guard and a faint blush colors your cheeks. “Thank you, sir. I’m just glad to be here, and I really truly appreciate your guidance.”

It's then, in that quiet moment, as the setting sun casts a warm glow through his office window highlighting the blush on your face and the sincerity in your eyes that Hotchner sees something he hadn't fully allowed himself to recognize before. The softness of the light, the quiet dignity with which you accept his praise and the undeniable warmth of your smile strike him profoundly.

For a brief moment Hotchner is silent, observing you not just as a capable agent but as a person whose presence has subtly but indelibly changed the fabric of the team—and his own perceptions. The realization that he finds you beautiful, in more ways than one, surfaces quietly but powerfully in his mind. This acknowledgment isn't just about your physical appearance but encompasses the entirety of your influence on him and the team.

As you leave his office with a certain lightness in your step. The thoughtful look on Hotchner's face mark a turning point. It's a small almost imperceptible moment, but it’s one where personal and professional lines blur slightly, hinting at deeper unspoken possibilities that neither of you may yet fully understand.

The next case up had been grueling with long hours and high stakes that left the entire team feeling the weight of their responsibilities. As the post-case debrief wraps up in the BAU conference room the team disperses, leaving behind a palpable relief mixed with the usual fatigue. But as everyone else heads out to grasp at some much-needed rest, Hotchner lingers at the conference table organizing his notes with more care than perhaps necessary.

Seeing you gathering your belongings slowly he finds the resolve to address the change he's felt brewing within him. "Agent L/N, could I have a moment?" he asks. His voice much softer than usual.

You nod, curious, setting your bag down and returning to the table. The room is quiet now, lit only by the dim lights left on for the night shift.

Hotchner takes a deep breath, his demeanor uncharacteristically open. "I owe you an apology," he starts. His eyes meeting yours. "When you first joined the team, I was... less than welcoming. I questioned your capabilities. Not because of any fault in your record or your behavior, but because I was resistant to the change you represented."

You listen, surprised by his candor, as he continues, "I've always insisted on control, on predictability. After everything I’ve been through, it seemed like the only way to protect the team, to protect my family from further loss. But I've come to realize that I was protecting myself more than anyone."

Hotchner pauses. His gaze shifting away momentarily before returning to yours, more intense, more vulnerable. "You’ve brought a new perspective to the team, a resilience and warmth that I didn't know we needed. You've saved lives, not just through your actions in the field but by being who you are. And...” he hesitates, the next words clearly weighing heavily on him, “and I find myself grateful, not just for your contributions to the team, but for the light you've brought into my life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. The formal barriers between you melting away in the quiet honesty of the moment. “Thank you, Hotch," you respond, your voice low. You were touched by his admission. "I’ve always admired your dedication and getting to see this side of you, it means a lot."

Hotchner nods with a slight smile breaking through his usual reserve. "I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I would like to... explore this, whatever this is, with you. If you’re open to it," he adds quickly, almost awkwardly.

As the room quiets and you acknowledge Aaron Hotchner’s feelings. Even though your elated you feel that pit of dread form in your stomach. Aaron was your superior… a shadow of concern passes over your face, quickly deepening into visible anxiety. "Hotch," you start, your voice carrying a mix of hope and worry that quickly spirals into panic. "What about Strauss? If things change between us... I mean, if we do this, couldn’t it really complicate things? What if it impacts the team, or your position, or—"

Seeing your distress, Hotchner steps closer. His expression softening significantly as he picks up on your escalating fears. "Hey," he interjects gently, his tone soothing. "Let’s just take a moment, okay?"

You pause, your breath shaky, caught up in the whirlwind of potential consequences that his words had unwittingly unleashed.

Hotchner reaches out slowly. He was giving you time to accept his comfort before his hands rest lightly on your shoulders. "We're not going to rush into anything," he assures you, his voice calm and steady. "Yes, there are risks, and you’re absolutely right to consider them. But we’re not in this alone. We have a team that supports us, and we have each other."

His words help, but it's the firm comforting presence of his hands, the warmth from his touch, that really begins to calm your racing thoughts. "We'll be careful," he continues. "We’ll make decisions together. I respect you too much to let this cause you any distress. If it ever becomes too much, we stop and we stay professional. That’s a promise."

Your breathing slows, steadied by his reassurances. Looking into his eyes you find a sincere commitment there. A steadiness that you’ve always admired in him now directed towards nurturing whatever might grow between you.

Seeing that you’re still tense, Hotchner does something he rarely does—he pulls you gently into a hug. It’s a careful gesture making sure to respect the boundaries but offering comfort. "We’ll handle whatever comes, together," he murmurs. "You're not in this alone."

The hug was unexpected but deeply comforting. It helps to dissolve the last of your apprehensions. You let out a slow breath, allowing yourself to lean into the embrace. You felt a sense of safety in his support.

"Thank you, Hotch," you manage to say with your voice muffled slightly against his shoulder. "I needed to hear that. One step at a time. I can do that."

"One step at a time," he confirms. Giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to respect your space. "We have all the time we need."

As you both leave the conference room, your steps feel lighter. The burden of immediate decisions lifted. With Hotch’s support you feel ready to face whatever challenges might come knowing that not just the weight of the case, but also the weight of new possibilities could be shared.

In the weeks that follow your relationship with Hotchner develops quietly but deeply. Both of you are cautious, acutely aware of the professional boundaries that must be maintained in the intense environment of the BAU. Yet outside of those walls, in the small, stolen moments you find together, a new world seems to unfold. A world where you can be just Aaron and Y/N, not agents with burdens too heavy to bear alone.

You start with simple coffee dates after long shifts where the conversation drifts from case debriefs to shared interests in literature and quiet confessions about your lives outside the FBI. These moments are a revelation, filled with laughter and soft looks that linger longer than necessary. They are moments that stitch the fabric of your relationship tighter with every thread of shared vulnerability and joy.

Aaron, who has always been guarded with his emotions, finds in you an understanding ear and a comforting presence. You learn about his son, Jack, about the painful loss of his wife, and how these experiences shaped him, not just as an agent but as a man who fiercely protects those he loves. Your empathy and gentle encouragement help him navigate the lingering shadows of his past. Allowing him to embrace the possibility of happiness again.

For you, Aaron becomes the person you didn’t know you needed in his strength. His steadfast nature and unyielding integrity inspire you, guiding you through the complexities of your role within the BAU. His belief in your abilities boosts your confidence and his support becomes your anchor in the turbulent sea of your demanding careers.

Together you navigate the highs and lows of life at the BAU. After particularly harrowing cases it’s Aaron who helps you decompress by taking long walks by the lake near your apartment or simply sitting together in comfortable silence. And it’s you who brings light into his evenings with Jack making sure to join them for movie nights and slowly becoming part of the family he holds dear.

The relationship does not go unnoticed by the team but the respect you both maintain at work ensures that your personal lives enrich your professionalism rather than detract from it. Your colleagues see the subtle changes—how Aaron smiles a bit more, how you’re both more relaxed despite the demands of your job.

After a few months of dating, you and Aaron walk hand in hand along the quiet paths of a nearby park, he stops, pulling you close. The city lights cast a soft glow around you, and the world feels like it’s holding its breath. "Y/N, these past months have shown me something I hadn’t dared to hope for," he says, his voice low and full of emotion. "That it’s possible to find light even in the darkest places. You’ve brought that light into my life."

You smile while reaching up to touch his face gently. "And you’ve shown me that strength isn’t just about holding up the world on your own, but knowing when to share the load," you reply, your heart full. "I love you, Aaron."

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispers, and as he leans down to kiss you, it feels like a promise. A promise of a future together where love and understanding can thrive amidst the chaos of the life you’ve chosen.

As autumn turns into winter the relationship between you and Aaron blooms amidst the frosty edges of the season, weaving warmth into the crisp air around you. Your love, quiet but profound, becomes the silent strength that both of you draw from during the demanding days at the BAU.

One chilly December evening after a usually tough case that had stretched your limits and tested your resilience, Aaron plans something special to celebrate not just the end of the case but the life you are building together. When you arrive at his house after the long day, you find the living room transformed into a cozy winter wonderland. It was complete with soft blankets, flickering candles, and a fireplace that crackles with warmth.

Jack was at a sleepover and Aaron greets you at the door with a gentle smile dressed in a comfortable sweater that makes him look homier than ever. "I thought we could use a quiet night in," he smiles while leading you into the room.

The table is set with your favorite foods and there’s a gentle playlist humming through the speakers filled with songs that have slowly become 'yours'. Aaron pulls out a chair for you, his manners impeccable as always, but his eyes are shining with a joy that is purely personal. As you eat, the conversation flows easily—plans for the holiday, funny anecdotes from the day, shared dreams for the future. After dinner Aaron leads you to the couch where a blanket is draped invitingly. He sits beside you pulling you close into his side, and you nestle against him feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Y/N,” Aaron murmurs, his voice soft in the quiet of the room, “when I think about all we’ve been through, I realize every moment led me right here, to this. To us. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You look up at him touched by the sincerity in his voice. “And I can’t imagine a better person to share my life with,” you reply. Your hand finding his. “You make everything... brighter. More beautiful.”

Aaron smiles, his gaze tender. “I have something for you,” he says while reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, exquisitely wrapped box. He opens it to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a pendant that glimmers softly in the firelight—a compass.

“It’s to remind us that no matter where we go or what cases we face, we’ll always find our way back to each other,” he explains. His fingers brushing lightly over the pendant before fastening it around your neck.

You touch the pendant overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s perfect, Aaron. Just like this night, like this.”

He leans in with his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is slow and sweet, a seal over promises made and kept. The rest of the evening passes in gentle laughter, shared kisses, and dreams whispered between the folds of blankets under the watchful glow of firelight and twinkling stars outside your window.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ guilt's a motherfucker : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

summary: denial was an art, especially in a field like the one that you worked in. as a profiler, it was almost impossible for anyone to pull the wool over your eyes. you'd spent enough time with your team to know that this gift, this specific sort of perception was not something you were immune to either. meaning, no matter how much you tried to keep things a secret, someone on your team was bound to read right through you. especially spencer. 🔱 ━━ alternatively: the one where your inability to say what you want leads spencer to accept the affections of someone else.

content warnings: i think this could be considered angst . spencer reid having a crush on reader. reader being jealous of spencer getting attention from someone else. cute friendship between derek+ emily + reader. reader is the youngest on the team. set in s6, pre- jj’s departure.

read part two here

“You doing alright, babygirl?” Derek’s voice isn’t hard to miss, and the obvious smugness that was attached made your eyes roll. You knew from the moment that you’d leaned forward in your chair, lips pulling down into a deep pout that someone would clock you and quite quickly put two and two together. You didn’t mean to be obvious, in fact, usually you did a much better job at keeping your cool. However, there was something glaringly different today.

Spencer had gone for a new look, you remembered the day he walked in with his hair freshly cropped, shoulder-length tresses replaced with what Hotch had affectionately referred to as "boy band" hair. The rest of the team had laughed, you'd even cutely hid your own snicker behind your hand, but you couldn't deny that it fit him. It was flattering, dare you say cute as hell. In the weeks that followed though, he'd went even shorter, gone were all traces of boy band.

The look he sported now was distracting, incredibly so. He looked good, and it seemed you weren't the only that seemed to notice.

"She's eating him with her eyes." you grumble, arms crossing as Derek comes up behind you. He's got his chin pressed to your shoulder, following your line of sight, as a boisterous laugh escapes him. "It's not funny, Derek." this hiss of yours only seems to fuel his amusement as he starts to chuckle even louder.

"You've been mean mugging that girl since she walked in this morning." Derek rounds your desk now, obstructing your view of the betrayal taking place across the bullpen. It was a slow day, a good day. No cases, but loads of paperwork. Your desk was covered in nothing but files, some you'd started, some you'd finished. You're still cross, but you allow yourself to look up at your long time friend.

"I'm not mean mugging." you huff, blinking slow as you think over your clear fib. "There's just something in my eye." you whisper, and it's not convincing. You can tell by the way Derek's bag chuckling.

"Yeah, a green monster." he retorts quickly, and you can't deny the way it catches you off guard, as a choked laugh at your own expense escapes you. "Jealousy's not a good look on you, little bit." he hums and you droop, because of course you know that. "Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling?" he asks, and despite all his jokes and quips, Derek Morgan was perceptive, and he cared about you.

"That's a horrible idea." you exclaim, and your entire body jerks back, recoiling as if you'd been stung. "God, aren't you supposed to be some kind of smooth criminal?" your eyebrows quirk upward, "What type of advice is that?" you proceed, and Derek's bemused, looking down at you as he waits for you to finish your spiel.

"Just tell him straight up how you feel?" you deepen your voice to mock his, "Why don't I just run around the bullpen in underwear too, since we're doing dumb things." you huff, and your dramatics are amusing. They always have been. You'd been a member of the team going on two years, and you'd made a mark so deep it almost felt like you'd always been a part of the Unit.

You were a stark contrast to Emily and JJ, and a complete 180 from the angsty bombshell that had been Elle Greenaway. You were a wide-eyed 20-something year old that still had so much light behind your eyes, and a hope that you wouldn't shake. You had a way of making everyone laugh. You could pull anyone out of their heads, even Hotch, who Derek had caught many times fighting back small content smizes as you took the team's mind off the gore of the job.

"That's one way to get attention." he hums, and you huff again.

"Derek, you're not being helpful. If you're just here to laugh at my misery, I'm gonna start rethinking your place in my life." you hum, and you lean forward, chin resting against your palms. Derek appraises you, head tipping to the side as he offers you a charming grin.

"All I'm saying is, you've been crushing on the kid since you got here." he reminds you, and your frown deepens. "And the world wont be blind forever." he mumbles, and you know what he means. Spencer Reid to you had always been the most beautiful guy, but he'd been buried under mountains of trauma and insecurities that he had never been able to accept that. With time though, Spencer had begun to blossom, and this new haircut seemed to be a testament of this.

He was coming into himself, there was a new confidence budding in his steps, less stammers between phrases, and you didn't really have to fight for eye contact much anymore. He was still Spence, and in his words, he was far from an Alpha Male, but he could be. And he would be, you just knew it. Which meant that the more confident he became, the more women would see him the way you saw him. Damn. Derek sees the way the cogs in your mind move, and he sighs.

"Take it from someone who's been around-." you can't help but to insert with your own little quip. "What are you calling yourself a dog?" you tease, and his eyes roll, but he still grins wide.

"Listen." he stretches the word a bit, and he's looking you right in the eye. You can see sympathy swirling through the pretty pools of brown, and you believe that maybe if you were a bit older, and had met Derek first, you'd be swooning for him the way you were swooning for Spencer. You shake these thoughts of his beauty away, as you give him the space to speak freely. "I know what it's like to miss a window." he reminds you. "Rejection's a bitch." he adds.

True. It was precisely why you'd never bothered to say anything to Spencer. You got through life by pretending things were fine, by making a joke out of the hard stuff. You wouldn't be able to handle opening your heart to someone, and being told 'No'. That you weren't good enough, that you weren't what they needed. Maybe that was selfish, rejection was a part of life. It was necessary, but still. You'd rather deal with your unresolved issues alone. You saw no need to bring Spencer into conversations about your feelings for him at all.

"But guilt's a motherfucker." and Derek's words stop you short. You blink. What was worse? The sting that rejection could cause or the gaping hole that guilt would bring? The thought of getting an invite to a wedding day for a future Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Reid while you sitll held romantic feelings close to your chest made you want to vomit. Perhaps Derek had a point. At least if Spence turned you down with time the two of you could work around it, become friends again.

If you never said anything though, you'd have no right to be angry or hurt or jealous if some woman with much more confidence than you managed to swoop in and knock him off his feet Damn, you hated when Derek was right. His chuckle is what alerts you that your begrudging inner thoughts had been uttered aloud.

"What's Derek right about?" you smell the familiar scent of Prentiss' perfume before you see her face. It's subtle but comforting, and it makes you unconsciously relax in your seat. Derek's moving out of your line of sight, and you're met with the sight of Spencer still talking to the woman. She had a firm grip on a mug of coffee in one hand, her other hand leisurely tracing circles on Spencer's arms. You inhale sharply, swiveling in your seat as you turn to face Emily.

"Everything." Derek takes the swing, winking as you and Emily share a dry glance. He then subtly nods his head towards the woman crowding Spencer at the kitchenette and Emily's lips form a thin line of understanding. She turns to you, hand resting on your shoulder as she gives it a firm squeeze.

"Don't you think it's time to take a swing?" she offers, and you hate that immediately she falls into step with Derek. The duo forming a united front against you to ensure you put your big girl pants on and tell him the way you're feeling. "Here's an idea," And Emily's looking for a second to make sure Spencer is still too preoccupied to make his way over. "You've been trying to find someone to go with you to that new movie... what was it?" Emily snaps her fingers.

"Crash of the-" you cut her off with a deep sigh.

"Clash... it's Called Clash of the Titans." you mutter, and you pout. You had been trying to convince Emily, JJ, and Penelope to give the action film a shot. What could be better than watching Sam Worthington run across your scream for nearly two hours as you're transported to Ancient Greece? But, alas... the girls were far more interested in other things. In truth, they'd all agreed that they'd prefer to see something a little less packed with gore and violence.

Just for a change of pace.

You couldn't slight them for their polite rejection of your plans. The last case you'd been on had been especially taxing and nightmare inducing. "Why don't you ask him instead?" she hums, and you look over at the chatting duo, they'd really been talking for a while. There's this easygoing sort of look on Spencer's face, and the beauty across from him has turned about the same shade of red as the lipstick smeared across her full pout.

"Looks like she beat me to it." you mutter, and you think maybe God hates you, because as you let the words out, the girl is beaming even brighter, slipping something she'd written on a napkin into the palm of his hand. She offers a flirty wink before she's sashaying off, hips moving from side to side as she makes her way back to her own little cubby. "Ah well, who cares?" you try your hand at playing nonchalant. "It's not like I was in love with him or anything."

And the thing about Denial was that you'd spent so long making it your security blanket that you often forgot you were working with some of the most brilliant minds the FBI had ever produced.

Derek pats your shoulder, he's sympathetic to your plight. He was probably the only person you had been the most forthcoming with about these feelings you harbored. Emily frowns, and she offers you a side hug, chin resting on the top of your head. Their comfort makes you feel better, but the coil of feelings in your gut only seems to tighten. You wanted to be alone, you'd been perceived enough, if any of them pushed any further you may have broken into tears.

"I-I should get back to work." you mutter quietly, and they both know what you're doing. For once they resist the urge to comment, and they leave you be. Your desk was farthest away from the rest of the team. You and Hotch had agreed it was necessity. You could focus more when your back was to the rest of them. You let out a quiet sigh, fingers drumming against the table as you swallowed your emotions. You tiredly reach for an unfinished file, flipping it open.

Blurry words peer back at you, and you're shocked to realize that despite all your efforts you were still about to cry. Fuck.

You close your eyes, counting up to thirty in both english and spanish, by the time you'd finished breathing treinta under your breath, you had a new guest in front of you. Spencer stretched up for what felt like miles, his eyebrows furrowed as he stood before your desk with a look of confusion on his face. "Hey, are you alright?" he asks, and his voice always has this tenderness throughout.

"J-Just fine." and your stammer gives you away. Your voice is coated with mucus, a surefire signal that you were about a few seconds shy of having an immature meltdown. How silly of you to be this shaken up over the prospect of Spencer being with someone else. How dare you? You didn't even have the balls to admit that your playful flirting was just you overcompensating for the fact you couldn't do it foreal.

"I read somewhere that breathing exercises help you get through boring things." you motion to the file, and you've perfected your fake grin. Spencer doesn't look convinced, but he plays along.

"Oh, yeah? Where'd you read that?" he asks and you blanche.

"Uh. Just somewhere." you answer, and he's raised both his eyebrows. You recover quickly, clearing your throat. "You've replaced me, huh?" you ask, and you're playing it off like one of your jokes. Spencer looks shocked for a second, before he tips his head to the side as he looks down at you as if you were the most important thing in his world. If only.

"What do you mean?" he pries, and you motion with your head to the coffee station.

"Found another pretty girl to boost your head up, huh?" you mutter, and there's this flash. Something you can't quite catch, mostly because you're not in the mood to profile and analyze what all his facial expressions meant now. "You guys looked like you were having a good time." you add, and you hope you don't sound bitter. Jealousy or not, if Spencer was happy, you'd be happy too. You'd try.

"Yeah." he replies, and his face is turning red. "S-She was just being nice." he answers, and you hate that the first thing you notice is how he hasn't said 'No, I haven't replaced you.' You sour all the more.

"That's nice, Spence." you hum, and it's clear you've now become uninterested. So much for trying.

Still, Spencer was nothing if not selectively oblivious. You guys had been playing this game for almost a year, he wasn't going to make it easy for you to cop out and make him the bad guy. "She actually asked me to go see-" the rest of his joy-ridden words are mush in your head, and you can imagine how unamused you looked as you half-listened to him go on about how they were going out Saturday.

Yippee.

You don't mean to be rude, not really. But you couldn't bring yourself to listen to anymore. "Congratulations, Spencer." you cut him off abruptly. "But I've got to finish this, so if you could just-" and you're ushering him off as he stares at you aghast.

"What's your problem?" he pries, and you blink owlishly.

"Nothing." you insist, and you look over your shoulder. The team was not-so-subtly watching the exchange. Typical.

"I find that hard to believe." Spencer retorts, and he's got this unimpressed look on his face, like he knows something you don't. His genius has never irked you before, but right now it just makes you feel more perceived. Like he knew how you felt and was rubbing this all in your face. He couldn't possibly be that cruel though, right?

"Well that's not really my problem is it?" you snap, and Spencer's reaction is instantaneous. His scoff rings in your ears.

"Yeah, actually it is." he shoots back, and you rear back in surprise. What was that supposed to mean. "You know this is getting really old." and your strangled gasp escapes you before you can stop it.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you narrow your eyes as you set your glare on him. He's got his own challenging sort of glance on his face, almost like he's daring you to keep playing dumb. You will. If only to push him to spit out whatever was so clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. "Go on. Please tell me, Mr. All knowing." you press and his eyes roll. You look like a perturbed toddler ready to fling yourself on the ground and scream.

"Grow up." is all he says, and it slices you clean in half. "If you're gonna play the role of the jealous little girl, at least respect me enough to not play dumb about it when you're caught." and then he's leaving you sitting at your desk, and you're gawking.

Fuck.

[ro-presents-penelopegarciashorts]

NOT REQUESTED

penelope garcia x stud!reader

primarily penelope and the reader. introduces the team at the end, only mentions hotch, derek and jj by name. brief mention of kevin.

Starting your first day at the BAU, you find yourself trapped in the elevator for hours with a beautiful woman that you can't stop yourself from being attracted to.

Pure Fluff.

Unspecified age gap, but reader is an adult. No use of Y/N.

2K WORDS.

"Hold it!" You hear as you step into the elevator. You turn, your back facing the back wall of the elevator. You almost don't hold it, but then, she calls again, "Hold the elevator, please!" 

And, that's when your eyes zero in on her. She's a stand out, if you've ever seen one. Colorful and bright as ever, she reminds you of both a sunshine and a rainbow after a rainy day. You reach out, catching the elevator doors before they could close, willing them to react to you and open up. Her heels clack louder as she puts a pep in her step to catch up, thanking you her entire way there. You don't let go or step back until she makes it into the elevator. She thanks you once again, and you assure her thanks isn't necessary. She turns to you, really, turns to you. 

"I don't think I've ever seen you before," she says, outstretching her hand for you to shake, "Penelope Garcia. My friends call me Garcia. 

You shake her hand as you introduce yourself to her and smirk, "Are you saying you want to be my friend?" 

Garcia smiles and her entire face lights up when she does, "Well, I'm always open to making new friends." 

"Where are you headed to?" You ask. 

"I am going to the BAU." 

Well, this must be fate of sorts. Either that or it was the kindest of coincidences. You were happy for it, regardless. This was your first day training for the reopening of the liasion position. You had been hoping that you would meet someone kind to help you transition into the new job. Your smile overtakes you. 

"Same." 

Penelope looks at you again, like really. Your name bouncing between her ears as she tries to place you. If you were headed there, surely she must have at least heard of you. She knows about all the changes to the unit. Well, the ones that aren't impromtu, anyway. Sometimes, Hotch makes a quick decision that doesn't go all the way through proper channels until after the decision has been made. But, other than that, she knows about it. And, then, it dawns on her. 

"Oh, OH! You're our new liasion!" She puts together, and you nod. "Well, I guess I'm going to have to pay closer attention to BAU pres conferences, now." She says, eyes trailing you from head to toe. Not onces but twice. 

"Ms. Garcia," you say, turning fully to face her, leaning in just a little, "you coming onto me?" 

Her face goes beet red as she giggles, eyes twinkling under her glasses. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, the elevator does a psuedo drop before halting completely. It goes dark for a moment, and then the emergency lights come back on. When the lights come back on, the two of you see each other hugging your own corner of the elevator. You kind of fucking hate elavators. 

"Please, tell me this doesn't happen often," you say, breaking the ice. She just shakes her head as she tries to get a handle of her breathing. "It can't be like this for long, can it?" You ask, trying to soothe yourself. She ignores you, still trying to get her breathing under control so she can soothe herself. It takes a lot of mental strength for you to push yourself out of your corner and into hers. You wrap your arms around her, gently, when you cross over and ease the two of you down to the floor. You place her hand on your stomach and model slow deep breaths for her to mimick. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up to the moment, but it does. She follows your league until it works, and she's relaxed a bit. Relaxed enough so that her breathing isn't a source of worry. You give her a gentle smile, then, "No worries. I'm going to just call my new boss and tell him where we are." 

"Good idea, call Hotch." She says, watching as you retrieve your phone from your pocket. Your face drops and so does her heart. Frowning she asks, a little frantic, "What is it? What's wrong?" 

"I don't have service," you mutter, restarting your phone, hoping for it to not be the case. But it is, and you mutter again, "I don't have service." 

She retrieves her own phone from her purse, heart dropping further, "Neither do I." 

You takes a deep breath. You don't know Penelope that well, but you are fairly certain that if you lose your shit, she's going to lose hers. So, you can't. Even though, you want to cry a little. Even though, you are terrified that this metal coffin will become you guys' final resting place. You force yourself to be optimistic, though, for both of your sakes. 

"Okay, it's fine. They'll notice we aren't here, and the generators will start working, and we'll be out of hear in no time." 

No time, has turned into four hours, and it's killing you to not know just how long you're going to be stuck here. But, you guys have found a way to not just pass the time but to keep each other sane. The ultimate question game. Where you combine this or that, would you rather, one must go, where do you stand?, and fact or fiction with the general questions game. It was lighthearted, helped you get to know your coworker, who was becoming forbidden fruit as your attraction started to grow, and most importantly, it kept your mind off the whole being trapping in a floating metal coffin thing. 

"Wine or beer?" She asks. 

"Wine," you say without a second thought. "Would you rather walk a mile of hot coals or swim across a lake of razors and lemon juice?" 

She laughs through a scoff, jaw dropping just so, "What a sadistic question." You shrug, pleased with the dilemna you've created. "You answer," she insists. 

"You can't turn it back around on me," you remind her, "We agreed. It's against the rules." 

She huffs, "I really hate the mile of hot coals, but I am not the strongest swimmer. So, I don't really have a choice, do I?" You shake your head. She huffs, "So, what made you want to join the BAU?" 

"Well, I've always been intrigued by how much the media can sway and swing things. How it can speak to the public and change the way they think, how it can send messages to people, to reach people exactly the way it needed to be reach. So, I worked behind the season, helping to produce a national news show. We reported on a lot, from crime to celebrity scandal to politics. The works. But, some of the messages we were sending, how they were reaching people, it just," you shrugged, "I wasn't happy with what I was doing. I saw first hand how dangerous it could be when the intention wasn't solely to help, and I felt sleazy all the time. So, I changed careers. I wanted to better serve the public. Then, they reopened this position, and I had to apply." 

Penelope smirk, curiousity taking over her as she was geared up to break another rule. "What channel did you work for?" 

"No, it's my turn." You remind her, playfully swatting her thigh, "Stop breaking the rules." 

"You know, I was hoping the first time you spanked would be somewhere more private, but I'll take it." 

You play along, "I mean, can it get any more private that this?" 

There's this brief change in her eyes. Almost lustful, but it is so fleeting. You've seen it before, though. It's happened of the last few hours. She looks away, but you keep your eyes on her. 

"Ask your question." 

You don't know why you don't stop yourself from asking this but, "Do you date women?" 

"Are you asking for a friend?" She asks, looking back at you. 

"Nope, just me." 

She blushes, looking away again, trying to see if this moment is real or if maybe she hit her head when the elevator jumped. She does that a lot. Every time the temperature rises between the two of you, she looks away. It's probably the smart thing to do. Trying to break the fever in the air. She is forbidden fruit, after all. You hate to shit where you eat, but you can't remember the last time you were quite this tempted. Especially in a situation like this with absolutely no prying eyes. With little to nothing to remind you that interoffice romance was a bad idea. And, everything just fueling this attraction you feel towards her. You do something bold. A gentle pair of fingers on her chin, pulling her face back to yours. 

"Answer my question." You demand, softly, even though, you are fairly certain you know the answer. 

"I do, actually," she answers, and you smile like you've just won a prize. 

"Your turn." 

"Aren't you a little young to be asking about my dating preferences?" 

You snort out a chuckle, having been with your fair share of older women. If you were being perfectly honest, the youngest woman you had ever been with -- at all -- was seven years your senior. Beyond that, though, you were grown. 

"I'm old enough to be starting my second career, and be something of a veteran at my old one," is your answer. Though, to be fair, you went to college early. Finished early, too, and you were the youngest producer on your staff but a decent margin. Always ahead of the curve you were, but it didn't take away from the truth of your statement. Or, the implication. You were old enough to know what you liked. You were old enough to be her colleague. You were old enough to be her equal. 

"Your turn." She says, because touche. 

"Are you seeing someone right now?" 

"Nothing serious," she answers, "You?" 

You shake your head, "Nothing at all." 

She smiles, then. You, in her mind, were also something of forbidden fruit. She wasn't opposed to dating a techincal coworker. Obviously, Kevin, but someone in her unit? She couldn't let herself go there. She wouldn't. She didn't want to risk the fallout. Especially not with you. You were so new here; she didn't want to taint your experience with relationship drama. Even if you were the sexiest thing to walk into this building since Derek Morgan. Still, it made her happy to know that her future fantasies didn't have to contend with another. She was mildly selfish that way. 

She was about to respond when the regular lights came on, and the emergency lights when off. Not long after, the lights came back on, the doors opened, and the two of you come face to face with six concerned faces. You stand, hasitly, helping her to her feet the moment you were on yours. 

A blonde comes forward, wrapping her arms around Penelope, holding her for a moment. When she releases her, Penelope gives brief hugs to everyone else, until she reaches a bigger guy. Real buff and pretty, like a model. He hugs her as tight and as long as the blonde had. When he releases her, she merely smiles at the man you know to be Aaron Hotchner. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yes! I am perfectly fine," She says, "Thanks to this lovely human," she says, reaching back for you, "I found our new liaison." She tells the group. You smile and wave, introducing yourself. They all introduce themselves to you. "If it wasn't for her, I would have lost my mind in there." 

Derek makes sure to shake your hand, "Thank you for taking care of her." 

Your eyes settle on her, and you try to contain your smile. Your eyes give you away, though, as you say, "Always," before Hotch connects you with JJ. You recongized her before she even introduced herself. You'd seen her conferences online before. Her older ones. Hotch informs you that she's going to be shadowing and training you for the next couple of weeks while you find your footing, and that your first case is today. You link up with JJ as the team and Penelope separate. When you turn to glance back at her, you find her looking back at you. You smile at each other, already missing the private bubble the two of you shared. 

[sequinsmile-x]

Like a Light

It's the annual FBI blood draw and Aaron has an adverse reaction to donating.

He was never going to live this down.

-x-

Hi friends,

Really not sure where this came from, it's just a silly little thing that wouldn't leave me alone.

I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: mentions of blood, pregnancy (the fic is not about pregnancy, but Emily is pregnant in it)

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily blows out a breath as she drops her pen onto her desk, her eyes flicking between her pile of complete paperwork and what she still had to do. She looks at her husband’s empty office and then all of her friends abandoned desks and she groans. She shakes her head at herself as she stands up, one hand on her bump and the other on the desk as she supports herself.

“Come on kid,” she says, rubbing a circle where she feels her baby moving, “Let’s go see, Daddy.” 

She was 7 months along and regulated to desk duty. It had happened a little earlier than she would have originally liked, but ultimately she was grateful for it. She was tired and sore and couldn't even begin to imagine how she’d feel in eight weeks when she was still pregnant. She was looking forward to meeting her baby, to find out what she was having since she and Aaron had decided to keep it a secret until they were born, but she was also looking forward to having more control over her body again. 

She was uncomfortable almost all the time. Her breasts hurt and were two cups sizes bigger than they used to be. Her lower back had a persistent ache and she had acne like she hadn’t since she was a teenager. 

She smiles to herself as she walks towards the temporary medical room that had been set up in the conference room, and the large sign that was displayed outside. 

FBI Blood Drive. 

There were definitely some benefits to being pregnant, and today getting out of the annual blood drive felt like one of them. 

It was the BAU’s turn, and they’d all been in the conference room for around 20 minutes. Even though she couldn’t donate herself that didn’t mean she couldn’t sit with them for a while. She smiles as she walks into the room, her eyes immediately meeting her husband’s. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi sweetheart,” Aaron says, smiling at her from across the room, “What are you doing here?” 

She shrugs as she starts to walk across towards him, “I was bored in the bullpen by myself,” she says, smiling at her friends as they all lay on their loungers, all in different stages of the blood donation process, “Thought I’d come to join the party.” 

JJ chuckles as she nods towards the catheter in her arm, “How long has it been since you went to a party, Em?” 

Emily smiles as she rubs over her bump, “Not sure, but it’s been at least 7 months.” 

Derek raises his eyebrow at her from where he was lying, grimacing as the nurse tightens the tourniquet around his tricep, “I see you managed to get out of this, Princess.” 

She rolls her eyes as she sits next to Aaron’s lounger, her hand on her bump as she lowers herself down, “Yes, Derek, I decided to have a whole ass baby just to get out of the FBI blood drive this year,” she quips, her smile turning into a smirk. “It was either this or fake my death again, and the pre-work involved with pregnancy is a lot more enjoyable.” 

She chuckles as her husband and her friends groan at the same time, protesting her suggestive comment simultaneously. 

“Em.” 

“Prentiss.” 

Emily looks at Aaron and shrugs her shoulders innocently, “Am I wrong?” 

Aaron shakes his head at her and then winces as the nurse pulls the catheter out of his arm now his donation is complete and presses a bandaid to his skin. 

“Just sit here for about 15 minutes and then you are good to go, Agent Hotchner,” the nurse says, smiling at him as she offers him a cookie, “Make sure you eat that.” 

“Thanks,” he says, smiling politely at her. He starts to open the cookie but gets interrupted when his phone starts to ring. He pulls it out of his pocket and sighs when he sees Strauss’s name on the screen. He answers it quickly, “Hotchner.” 

Emily initially tries to listen in on his conversation but is distracted when the nurse hands a cookie to her, a kind smile on her face. 

“Oh,” Emily says, looking at the baked good, salivating at just the thought of it, “I didn’t donate,” she says, resting her hand on her bump.

“Oh I know,” the nurse says, winking at her as she holds the plate of cookies even closer, “But when I was having my youngest, I had such a sweet tooth. Plus you’re having a whole ass baby,” she says, her eye sparkling slightly as she repeats Emily’s words from earlier, “You deserve a cookie.” 

She nods and takes one of them, “Thank you,” she says, already tearing into the packet, “I do deserve it.” 

She takes a bite and moans at the taste, shooting a glare at Dave across the room when he laughs at her, but any comment she may have made is stopped as Aaron sits up, his phone still against his ear. 

“Of course ma’am, I’ll be there straight away.” He hangs up the phone and stands up, turning to look at Emily, “I need to go see Strauss, there’s an issue with the budgeting report.” 

“Agent Hotchner,” the nurse says, standing up herself, “You really need to sit down, it’s only been a couple of minutes-”

“I’ll be okay,” he says, already thinking about how Strauss was going to yell at him, to use paperwork as an excuse to eat into his evening with Emily and Jack, “I really need to go…”

He drifts off as he steps away from the lounger and he’s hit with a wave of nausea. It feels like time slows down as he tries to shake it off, but it only makes it worse. The floor starts to sway beneath him and his vision starts to tunnel. He tries to rest his hand on the lounger to support his weight but he misses, his co-ordination gone. 

The last thing he’s aware of before he hits the floor is the nurse and Emily calling out his name. “Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron.”

___

The first thing he thinks when he wakes up is that he is never going to live this down. 

He groans as he opens his eyes, the light-headed feeling still lingering as his vision starts to clear. He has two nurses standing in front of him, both of them looking concerned, and he groans again. 

“Agent Hotchner, are you feeling okay? You fainted.” 

“I’m fine,” he says, his words sounding weak to his own ears. He blinks a couple of times, grateful when his eyesight finally clears entirely. 

“We’ll help you up,” the nurse says, and he doesn’t shake off the help, knowing he would likely still be unsteady on his feet. He stands up and they each hook their arm through one of his and guide him back to his lounger. “You didn’t hit your head so that’s good,” the nurse replies, placing a bottle of water on the small table next to him, “Drink that and eat your cookie. And don’t stand up again until we say you can.” 

He hears a chuckle from the other side of the room and he glares at Derek, his stern look doing nothing to dampen his friend's amusement. Aaron feels a squeeze of his hand and he turns to look at his wife, his heart clenching in his chest at the poorly concealed concern painted across her face, “I’m fine, Em. I promise. I just stood up too quickly.” 

She isn’t sure she believes him. 

She’d watched it happen in slow motion. She’d seen how his eyes had glazed over as he fell to the ground like he weighed nothing, even though she knows exactly how heavy he is. Before she was too pregnant to do anything other than sleep on her side wrapped around a special pillow, she loved to sleep with him half on top of her, the weight of him a comfort, something that would always bring her back to herself when her nightmares came calling. 

It had scared the shit out of her, her panic way outweighing the situation, her love for him making it hard to breathe until he woke up. She’d tried to help but everyone, the medical staff and the team, had all told her to sit down. For once, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to defy what someone had told her and she’d sat in the chair next to his lounger, her hand on her bump as her baby started to move even more, spurred on by the spike in her blood pressure. 

She’ll tell him all of this later when they are home. When Jack was in bed and she could give herself space to feel everything she was feeling right now, because she knows she’ll cry, forever at the mercy of her hormones, and she doesn’t want to do that here. 

So she falls back into what she knows, at best, is a defence mechanism, and she smirks at him, the teasing comment slipping past her lips without any resistance. 

“If this is what happens when you donate blood I dread to think what you’ll be like in the delivery room when I give birth.” 

Aaron smiles at her and squeezes her hand, well aware that she was deflecting, that she preferred to use humour in moments like this, storing up her real emotions for when they got home. 

“The length’s you’ll go to in order to get out of a meeting with Strauss,” Dave quips, smirking when everyone, including Emily and Aaron, laugh.

“It’s a good thing you have a room full of witnesses,” JJ adds, an amused smile spreading across her face, “Otherwise I don’t think she’d believe you.” 

Emily starts to feel irritation bubbling in her gut, even though Aaron seemed to be taking the gentle mocking from everyone quite well, doing nothing more than smiling and rolling his eyes as their friends took it in turns to make fun of him. She can’t really explain why she’s feeling so protective, why her spine straightens out as her body tenses whilst everyone merely carries on what she’d started, but she’d stopped trying to figure out her emotions the moment she realised she was pregnant. She sees Derek open his mouth, and it’s her final straw, the snap of her control over how she was feeling reverberating around her head. 

“Stop making fun of him,” she says, cutting off Derek before he can even speak as the words escape before she can stop them, irritation she doesn’t fully understand burning in her chest. She looks at Derek and narrows her eyes, “Don’t make me bring up the time you and Reid got stuck in an elevator and screamed like little girls when it jolted.” 

“Hey,” Spencer says, frowning as he looks at her, “I didn’t even say anything.” 

“Sorry Spence,” she says, smiling apologetically at him, “Collateral damage.” 

“You started it, Em,” Derek says, furrowing his brow at her, “So you’re allowed to make fun of him and we’re not.” 

“Exactly,” she replies, “I’m his wife,” she says, raising her eyebrow in challenge when Derek looks at her like that isn’t explanation enough, “You’re allowed to make fun of him the moment you’re the one who sucks his-”

“Okay, thank you sweetheart,” Aaron says, cutting her off before she can say anything else, his hand firm around hers, “I appreciate the support but I’m fine, I promise.” 

She grumbles under her breath, her irritation still flowing through her veins, setting her on fire from the inside out. She looks at his still uneaten cookie and then back at him.

“You’d better eat that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him, “Or I will, and I don’t want to be responsible for you fainting a second time today.” 

Aaron sighs as he hears barely concealed laughter from across the room, and he picks up the cookie and takes a bite.

He was never going to live this down. 

-x-

Tag List:

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Join my tag list here!

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Criminal Minds OCs part 2

Liliana Reyes, x David Rossi

mafia princess meant to marry the son of another mob boss to unite the families, he got in over his head and went on a killing spree, she was his final target (details tbd, but a family conspiracy to kill her and set the fiancé up as the head of both families) the BAU connect with her in their investigation and take her under their wing to protect her from the fallout, becomes part of the team (initially because of her expertise on every mob and mafia family in the country, works her ass off to prove herself as a valuable member of the team)

Lizzie Mullins, x Elle Greenaway

18 year old with a passion for photography who works at a strip club, gets arrested while taking photos at a crime scene. Going through her camera, Hotch realizes that she’s not actually taking pictures of the obvious crime scene stuff, when Hotch asks her about it it’s because “it was out of place” and her photographs helped them solve the case, instead of legal charges she gets recruited to help them which might eventually lead into learning the communications liaison role from JJ but tbd on that part

it was still pre-canon, Hotch & Gideon recruited her, she's around 23-25 (same as Reid) in season 1

Dixie Holden, x Derek Morgan

Former prostitute, sees so many coworkers attacked and even killed who are too afraid to come forward because of their own job and because they’re never taken seriously, Dixie decided to do something about it. Went to law school, secures herself a mentorship with Hotch even though he’s already working with the BAU. Dixie starts to feel that she can do more good with the FBI than as a lawyer and wants to help stop crimes before they happen instead of helping afterwards, works her ass off to become an agent

Kelsie Karr, x JJ Jareau

Head empty just vibes

Peyton McKinney, x Emily Prentiss of Elle Greenaway

Head empty just vibes

Casey Browning, x Spencer Reid

Head empty just vibes

(Special thanks @manyfandomocs and @ocmerunaway for putting up with me being the most annoying person ever trying to figure these out)

[masterwords]

stops and starts (1 of 2)

Summary: Pre-BAU, Hotch & Morgan are roommates at the TRP (SWAT training)...

Notes: I am creating all of the rules in this universe so please don't come at me with "that's not now this works" because it is exactly how it works here. Because I say so. If the CM writers can bend time and space for their canon/backstories, so can I. Reality has no bearing here. This story is part 1 of 2 but fits into a whole SWAT AU I'm working up, so I'll create a landing page for all of the one-shots that live in this universe.

Pairing: Hotch/Haley & Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: consensual "cheating", food & alcohol

**

“I'm rooming with Mister Rogers...” Derek muttered to himself, poking around in the perfectly manicured framed photos stacked neatly inside of a box on Hotch's bed. He knew he shouldn't be so damn nosy but they were about to spend 19 weeks crammed into this tiny bedroom together and he wanted to know what he was up against. He fancied himself a people person, he could get along with just about anyone really, but 19 weeks is a long time...

Besides, the box was already open. That made it okay right?

Derek had already moved in the day before. His small number of personal effects were on display, his books were stacked on his desk, clothes in the tiny dresser and his toiletries neatly stashed in bins under the bed. It was always preferable to get in first, pick the bed you wanted, get to know the lay of the land. They were right at the end of the hall near the stairwell, and Derek made sure his bed was nearest the door so he could get in and out without disturbing his roomie...just in case. He didn't plan to have his nose in the books for the entire time, that was for damn sure.

He'd heard through the grapevine about a few bars that were good times, and a few houses nearby that would hold parties he could really let loose at. He'd already gotten to know all the right people to make sure that these few months wouldn't be absolutely the most boring time of his life. Derek was serious about his studies but he was also serious about balance. Pleasure and pain. Letting loose was as important as passing his tests.

But Hotch? His bed was just a mattress with a couple of boxes on top. Late didn't seem like it was in this guy's vocabulary, but around here not being early meant being late. When he finally had opportunity to lay eyes on Hotch, it all became clear. He looked flustered, a frustration thick and wild radiated from his otherwise neat facade. His eyes were radioactive amber sparking.

“Hey,” Derek greeted him with a smile, hoping to diffuse whatever bad energy the guy was trying to bring into the room. He wasn't into that. “I'm Derek Morgan...you must be Aaron Hotchner?”

“Hotch, please,” was the response, and just as Derek hoped, the sparks faded to smoldering embers and a small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Apprehensive, a little shy, but not so angry now. An extended hand, a firm and textbook perfect handshake. The kind that dads practice with their sons before sending them off to law school, he figured. He wouldn't know, his dad was nothing but ashes and a headstone when he headed off that direction, but he could imagine. “Pleasure to meet you.” His eyes flicked from the open box then to Derek and a flush rose in his neck at realization that he'd left it open, that Derek wouldn't even have to pry in order to see right into his pathetic life.

“Can I give you a hand with anything?”

Hotch stared at him for a moment, lips pursed tight enough to become almost colorless. It was like he was being completely sized up right in that moment, and whatever move he made or word he spoke would be held on some sort of personal record. The scrutiny in those eyes was daunting. Derek didn't know much about him except that he'd been a prosecutor and was now running the Seattle FBI Field Office, but he'd wager there were a lot of people who were just as likely to piss their pants as shake his hand when they met him. His initial assessment may have been a little off...Mister Rogers he was not.

“No,” he said finally, his features softening. “Thank you for the offer, this is all I have.”

“Alright.” Derek stood up, arching his back and stretching his lazy muscles out. “Look. I'm not about getting off on the wrong foot...you good? Did I do something to piss you off?”

Hotch's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically high. Derek had caught him completely off guard. “What? No, I...” but a sudden realization flashed over his features, and he sucked in a few breaths that expanded his ribs until they were at capacity beneath his too crisp to be casual navy polo. “I'm sorry if I'm coming on a little strong. It isn't you.”

Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, but Derek wasn't going to just walk away from that kind of opening. 19 weeks they'd have to sleep three feet away from each other...he couldn't have this dude carrying around so much baggage. In his experience, baggage turns into landmines and he really hated dodging landmines. It wasn't his style to side step them, he just jumped right on top of them.

“Wife?”

“I'm not married,” Hotch returned a little too quickly. It was fast enough that Derek knew he'd hit the target on the first try. Maybe not a wife, but a someone. Important enough someone to really get under his skin. Turning his back on Derek, Hotch began unpacking his few boxes, hoping that the topic would find its inevitable conclusion in his refusal to elaborate...but Derek wasn't having it.

“Someone pissed you off big time. What'd they do, starch your boxers? Put raisins in your cookies but let you think they were chocolate chips?”

Hotch didn't laugh, but he did smile. He wasn't entirely sure he liked Derek and his jokes or his prying, and still there was something about him that was so easy to just...talk to. “Nothing so egregious,” he replied finally, sliding his folded clothes into the dresser and closing up the box of framed photos without putting any of them out. He couldn't be more obvious.

“Well that pretty blonde lady must've done something to get you all worked up...cos she doesn't look like your sister.”

Hotch turned and regarded him seriously, folding his arms over his chest. This is when Derek thought people would be ready to piss their pants...he'd be lying if he didn't say he hadn't felt a little tingle down there the minute that frown was aimed at him. Although, that might be something else entirely.

Derek's game of twenty questions was met with stone cold silence and a frigid stare. A dare, maybe, to keep going or shut the fuck up. He decided on the latter...they had plenty of time for him to get all the nitty gritty details. “I'm heading out for pizza in a few, wanna join me?”

“Depends,” Hotch replied coolly, tightly coiled muscles melting beneath the crisp lines of his navy polo. “Are you finished with the inquisition?”

“For now.”

Pizza led them to common ground, but that had its limits for usefulness. Cheeky banter about law school quickly drove them down a path of comparison, good-natured but ultimately spiked with the intensity of competition. Hotch was shocked to find out how much pepperoni pizza he could consume with a pitcher of beer and good company, so when they found themselves kissing in the alley with greasy lips and desperate hands...no one was as surprised as he was. He would have put good money on that.

They didn't really talk about that night, but things eased up between them at least. Hotch's cold front had melted, and Derek tried not to ask as many questions. They had a long stretch ahead of them and this wasn't going to work if they pushed each other too hard.

Sitting cross-legged on Derek's bed after a week of brutal physical punishment on the training courses, they ate shitty cup o' noodles, slurping loudly while comparing their schedules and instructors, which parts of training they were most excited for, and when talk turned to what they planned to do with all of this after training was done, Hotch found himself already missing Derek. Barely a week in and he was already anticipating heartache. He got too attached to people too quickly.

“So, what's your plan? You got your sights set on FBI Director I bet...” Derek's voice was quiet, his mouth full of a pot sticker he'd crammed in whole. There was a small takeout box of them sitting on the bed between them and one set of chopsticks shared. He really had tried to bite into it, be some sort of gentleman, but it was still way too damn hot and the liquid exploded and started to burn his chin so he shoved it in quickly to avoid further humiliation. Hotch laughed, tearing his own pot sticker apart with the end of one chopstick to let the steam out.

“Someday. First I'd like to get into the BAU. They've got an opening now and another coming up soon, all those guys are retirement age...thought this might look good on my resume. Set me apart, those jobs are competitive.”

“You already run the Seattle Field Office, I doubt you need to pad your resume...” But Derek knew how hard it was to get those BAU oldies to even look at you, he'd had his eye on that prize a long time too. He was busy diversifying, as his mentor had put it in school after he blew out his knee and had to come up with some other career options on the fly. Diversify, make your skill-set unique and irreplaceable. He was working on it.

“What about you?”

Derek's face erupted in a smile that could light up a dark alley and poked a hole into his next pot sticker, following Hotch's lead. “Same. But I think my resume needs more help than yours.”

“Yeah, right, mister bomb squad...”

“Hey, you get in, you hire me alright?” He winked, and Hotch felt the flush beneath the collar of his shirt. His smile was shy, subtle, and Derek let out a booming laugh that made him jump a little with surprise. “I'm kidding, man. I'll get in, don't need any favors from a pretty boy like you.”

“I know...that's not...”

It wasn't. It truly wasn't. He had just found himself suddenly completely overwhelmed by the idea that this SWAT certification might lead them both in the same direction, and he might not have to mourn this loss. Too attached already but how could he say any of that? It would make him look insane, so he excused himself to call Haley. He didn't even want to talk to her, necessarily, he just needed to not sit here beside Derek.

What he needed was a cold shower and well...she would provide him with enough of that feeling. She'd been nothing but cold lately, and still he tried. He called her every day to check in dutifully and she, in turn, answered every call he made. But there was something strained now that hadn't been there before.

There were other calls to make, too, so he took a pocketful of change and made his way to the payphone in the hallway. Sure, his cell would have been fine but then he'd have to go outside to get any reliable service and it was really damn cold out there. The Seattle Field Office was still calling him for help, short staffed perpetually, so he'd have to call them after Haley. They were currently unattached, at her suggestion, busy deciding whether they really wanted to be together or if it was just more of an obligation because they'd already been at it so long. That whole high school sweetheart thing came with expectations that Haley was struggling with. He wasn't aware of how serious she was until she announced that she was already seeing someone. “It's casual,” she'd said as if it helped. “I barely know anything about him. We met at the gym.” He'd only been gone a few hours, was sitting in an airport somewhere in the center of the country on his second layover when she shared the news. Her openness was jarring and sharp, the way she smiled into the phone and said she was glad they were doing this. What he refused to think about was how long she'd actually been seeing this person and waiting for an opportunity to arise. He preferred the thought that she'd only been considering it until now, and as soon as he said he was okay with it (what choice did he have?) she made the call. It still felt terrible but not quite so bad. It was a sting he could live with.

“Trying new things...” she'd called it. “I still love you, Aaron, but this is good for both of us I think. I hope you try it too.”

“I don't have time to try anything, Haley,” he had replied quietly, defeated. The problem was that he was going to be busier than ever, doubling up on SWAT training and profiling courses while she was suddenly without anything to occupy her time for 19 weeks. That was an awful lot of time for her to explore. He had little hope that she would return to him, and maybe that was for the best. They had, perhaps, outgrown each other.

In any case, maybe he would have liked to do some exploring too but it ended there. Aside from that night, after pizza and beer...that night that was still a blur but brought a weary smile to his face. But nothing was going to happen there. Derek had better opportunities than whatever that might have been. Of that he was certain.

“Haley,” he said quietly into the phone when she picked up and tried his best to smile through the agony of knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He was losing her and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. “How are you?”

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Started thinking of 9-1-1/Criminal Minds crossovers (timelines be damned) and what if Bobby Nash/Aaron Hotchner? What if Buck (pre-bi realisation) is jealous of Spencer and Derek? What if we slot in that Maddy did work for the BAU years after meeting them on a case?

[mingi-bubu]

Once I get the next chapter of the bau tkc au out and the next chapter of yfyr, I'm going to set my focus on the next part of Yìrán's life post-canon pre-return to China and the next chapter of my the blooms at ruyi pavilion ot3 modern day au. And then I'm gonna put out the first scenario in like. A Minute™

(I'm royalsampaguita on ao3. If you want to know a bit more about these fics, there're summaries under the read more!)

The BAU Traumatized Kids' Club au is a Criminal Minds canon divergent au which starts in the season three episode "Children of the Dark" and is based around the idea of "What if Emily did adopt Carrie and Derek adopted Tyler and Sara?" It's also got an interlude collection, of which the chapters are currently just about Elle's life after leaving the BAU and moving back to New York. Once I get further into the main story, the rest of the Team will have interludes as well that tie-in. On a side note, I'm also excited for my OCs in this one! I have some fun arcs up my sleeves haha

yfyr, or its full title "you fancy you're a rebel so let me hear you shout", is a modern day organized crime Derry Girls au. The main relationship is Orla x James x David, and there are several background pairings as well. The summary is basically that Davey gets jumped while walking over to the Mallons' home and reaches the door bloody and half out of it. Orla, who uses xe/ze/hir pronouns, takes this very personally. I have given the members of Davey's band The Nether Regions names and face claims, which you can see on the pinterest board that's attached to the story. I absolutely love my OCs in this.

Yìrán is the female minor antagonist from the cdrama Love O2O. Her series revolves around her leaving China post-canon and going to the States for uni for a few years before returning. Those couple years away help her learn and grow into a better, more self-assured person, and she ends up getting headhunted to work in Zhi Yi Tech, aka Xiao Nai's company.

My ot3 modern day au for The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion is a fake dating au centered around Fù Xuān x Wú Báiqǐ x Guō Ruì. It was inspired by a, uh, Mingyu x reader x Wonwoo scenario that lives in my mind rent-free. But my version has a little bit more angst than its inspiration does. And I have a single line homage to my favorite Ready or Not timeloop fic Turning the Hourglass.

The next scenario I write and post is most likely going to be a qcynario, unless anyone has any opinions from my in-progress post which I've not had to update in. Uh, quite a while I should say 😅

[wishfulwithwine]

Secrets - Chapter Four

Aaron Hotchner x BAU Female Reader

Summary: A transfer NCIS agent to FBI BAU agent comes with a lot of baggage. Will the Unit Chief be able to hold his feelings back for the new, younger agent? 

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+. INVOLVES EXPLICIT/NSFW CONTENT. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR.

photo from pinterest

“You tried it with the long sleeves on?” Y/N asked, as she knelt down from where she was preparing lunches in the Hotchner kitchen to look at Jack. She knelt in front of him, smiling at the young boy who had taken over her heart along with his father. 

It hadn’t been long before Y/N was spending more nights with Aaron than without. After Aaron had introduced Jack to Y/N, Jack was the one who wanted her to sleepover all the time so they could stay up late to play games and cook breakfast together in the mornings. When Aaron had to work late, Y/N could spend time with him and sometimes would get him ice cream. She would cook better dinners for the family, and Aaron was incredibly grateful. Jack loved Y/N. 

“I don’t want to be Spiderman anymore” Jack replied, as Aaron walked into the room. With a kiss to Jack’s forehead, Y/N got up, as Jack directed his attention to his Dad. She went to finish the lunches and plating the halloween cookies. 

“Why not?” Aaron asked, as Jack turned his attention to his dad while Aaron kneeled down in the spot Y/N was in.

“I don’t know” Jack replied, shrugging his shoulders, looking between Aaron and Y/N.

“Well you have to make a decision by tomorrow” Aaron reminded him, before giving him a kiss on the forehead, before walking over to Y/N to give her a quick kiss on the lips. Jack smiled at the site of his dad happy with Y/N.

“Good job on the cookies” Aaron said, looking at Jack.

“Team effort” Jack said, before high-fiving Y/N. Aaron smiled at her, as Y/N blushed a bit. Jack was so easily accepting her into their little family, it felt effortless to be included. 

“Thank you Jack” She replied, kissing his forehead. 

“Can I have one?” Jack asked, looking to the cookies before looking at his Dad.

“You want a cookie? Can I have a cookie?” Aaron asked Jack, with a smile. Y/N looked at the pair, smiling but shaking her head at Aaron’s playfulness. “What do you want, black cat or a pumpkin?” Aaron asked.

“Black cat” Jack replied and Aaron got him a black cat, before getting Y/N and him a pumpkin. 

“Cookies before breakfast? You must be in a good mood” Y/N teased, smiling. Aaron stood up, before standing behind her, pressing himself close to her back, his mouth near her ear.

“I’m in a very good mood because of my very good girl” Aaron whispered into her ear, pressing his hips into her back, causing her to press her hips into the counter, feeling him harden behind her.

“If you’re quick, we’ve got some time we could spend in the shower, Sir” she whispered, and he grabbed onto her hips. He felt like a horny teenager with her now, as she had unlocked a side of him that Haley couldn’t have even reached.

“I’m toying with the notion of either going to the Edgar Allan Poe Shadow Puppet or the reenactment of the 19th century Phantasmagoria” Reid said, as Y/N and Penelope walked into the round table room, already beginning to seat some of the team around the table. Y/N raised an eyebrow to Derek, who just shrugged. 

“I don’t want to know” Rossi stated.

“Oh yea, you do. Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre-cinema projected ghost shows invented in France where the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic. And it just so happens I have an extra ticket” Spencer said, looking to Penelope and Y/N. Y/N just simply shook her head, not willing to give an explanation because usually she’d be up for this sort of thing so she didn’t have a good excuse. 

“Tempting” Penelope said, before starting to distribute the case files to everyone.

Y/N began listening intently to the team’s theories, as she had already been through the information with Penelope, before the team headed to Detroit.

Y/N had taken the Communications Liaison position seriously, and the team commended her on her ability to handle both the police and media, as well as remaining an active part of the profiler team. As soon as the team landed in Detroit, she went to the station, meeting the commander and fellow police officers to set up the team and points of contact. She had contacted family members to interview with herself and Rossi, seeing if there was anything they could get through cognitive interviews when they disappeared. 

“How you doing?” Y/N asked, as she saw Tony Torrell’s wife sitting in the conference room alone. 

“Uh, I’m fine. I’m here to see Agent Y/L/N and Agent Rossi” She said, nervously with a sadness in her eyes.

“I’m Agent Y/L/N and Rossi is going to be with you in just a few minutes. Are you Kiersten Torrell? I believe we spoke on the phone” Y/N asked, sitting down at the table.

“Yes” She said.

“I’m very sorry for your loss” Y/N said, putting the file she had in her arms down.

“Is there a picture of him in your folder? I want to see him” Kiersten stated, looking at the folder.

“Kiersten, your husband was very badly burned. I don’t think that’s a good idea” Y/Nsaid, as softly and gently as she could. She could see the emotions running through Kiersten’s face.

“What do you mean, he was burnt?” Kiersten asked.

“The person who did this uses fire as a weapon” Y/N reply cautiously.

“Was Tony set on fire alive?” Kiersten asked, realizing.

“We don’t know that” You tried to say, before Kiersten got a bit hysterical.

“Oh my god, this can’t be happening. Next week was our anniversary” Kiersten said.

“I’m so sorry” Y/N said.

“Are you married?” Kiersten asked, tears threatening to stream down her face.

“No I’m not, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through” Y/N said. “But everything you tell us can help us find the person who did this to Tony. I know this is hard but I want you to try to remember that when you’re talking to Agent Rossi” Y/N said, noticing Rossi by the window watching them.

“Aaron! You ran into a burning building? Are you crazy?” Y/N screamed in a whisper when Aaron made it back to the station after they caught Kaman. She had waited on scolding him until there was an opportunity when they were packing up their gear at the hotel that she could get him into an empty room and talk to him. It was highly intense case, and although Y/N was glad it was over, she was furious at Aaron for putting himself in harms way. 

“It was the only way to get him” Aaron tried to defend himself.

“You could’ve died! You had no protective gear on you” Y/N said, trying not to actually scream and draw attention to the pair from everyone. They still hadn’t told the team and no one had questioned them about the two, or even remotely hinted at anything so neither of them thought the team suspected anything.

“I’m sorry” Aaron said, at a loss of words.

“Tell that to Jack when you get home” Y/N said stubbornly, before turning away from him to go walk back in to the department. Aaron reached out and stopped her.

“I will, but I’m telling you now. I’m sorry. Seriously” Aaron said, staring into her eyes.

“Ok. I get it, but please try to be more cautious next time” Y/N replied. Aaron nodded.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, squeezing her hand softly. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Not until we get home” She said, and Aaron grinned at the way she said ‘home’, referencing his apartment. She didn’t know how much he wanted her to move in with him, but he also thought it might’ve been a bit early for that.

“What are you grinning at?” Y/N asked, suspicious of his smile.

“I love you” He said. “And you just called my apartment home” 

Y/N felt her heart stop for a moment, as he said those three words.

“You…” She stuttered, trying to wrap her head around the moment.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N” Aaron said, kissing her in a knee weakening kiss.

“I love you too, Aaron Hotchner. And calling your apartment home just feels right” She said, causing both of them to smile.

“We should head to the jet” He said, looking at the time on the clock on the wall. She nodded.

“That kiss was an exception. No more until home” She teased, before leaving the room and letting him wait to stagger their exits. Aaron sighed, staring at where she was just standing. 

“Dad! Don’t look at me” Jack said, as he heard Aaron settle in the living room. Aaron had come back to the apartment later than Y/N since he had more paperwork to fill out, and Y/N had been getting Jack all ready to go, as well as herself. Aaron and her were doing a couples costume as well as whatever Jack had finally chosen to wear. With puppy dog eyes, Jack had convinced the pair to dress up with him too, deciding they should be Superman and Superwoman.

“Are you almost ready?” Aaron asked, as he waited in the living room.

“Yes” Jack said, and Aaron looked to the closed door, hearing Y/N’s mumbled voice tone through the door. It opened a bit, and Y/N came out, closing the door behind her so Jack could make an entrance. Aaron’s jaw almost dropped, taking in her costume, reaching out and pulling her by the waist close to him.

“You look gorgeous, like you’re not going to be sleeping a wink tonight” Aaron whispered in her ear.

“Are we going to tell Jack we were watching a scary movie?” Y/N whispered with a smirk, and Aaron shook his head looking at her as she bit her lip with anticipation of tonight’s post-candy activities.

“You ready Jack?” Y/N called out to him, before Aaron could respond.

Then, Jack came out in a suit.

“Woah. That is definitely not Spiderman” Aaron said, confused, looking between Jack and Y/N. Y/N was smiling so large.

“He’s not a real superhero” Jack said.

“He’s not?” Aaron said, crossing his arms. “Ok I give up. Who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m you, Daddy” Jack said, and Y/N watched as Aaron’s whole face changed into a smile. Her heart melted at the sight. He picked up Jack, giving a huge hug, and kissed his forehead. Y/N walked over, kissing both her boys cheeks, and then they went to go trick or treating.

They walked along the normal streets, Y/N and Aaron hand in hand while Jack ran up to each house asking for candy.

“I want your candy” Aaron whispered in her ear, as Jack went up to the next house. Y/N squeezed his hand, pulling him closer, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“You naughty Superman” She whispered, winking at him, before he kissed you.

“Ew”Jack said, seeing them kissing. Y/N blushed as Aaron chuckled, before they headed to the next house.

It wasn’t long before Jack got tired, and Aaron carried him home, with Superwoman in tow. 

[avenging-fandoms]

PLEASE if he had an office at the bau, you'd be giving him head while you're under his desk 🥴

calls you his bad girl because you're acting like you want to get caught

*fem!reader !:)

"so.. you're finally moving into derek's old office, huh?" you ask, arms crossed against your chest as your shoulder leaned against the door frame. spencer turned around and smiled, putting up a picture frame of you two in city for vacation.

"crazy, right? never in a million years would i imagine this" you walk over to spencer and held his cheeks, kissing him softly. "we might get caught, yn. i just got this office, i'd hate to lose it already"

"oh please, where's the fun in following the rules?" you bit your bottom lip and smiled, fixing his collar. spencer's hand held your chin, shaking his head.

"such a bad girl, you want to get us in trouble, hm?" you closed the door behind you and placed your hand on his chest, pushing him to his chair and sitting him down. "yn.."

"consider it a congratulations gift" you whisper and bite his ear softly, earning a sigh from spencer. you fell to your knees in front of him and rub your hands up and down his thighs. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay, babe" spencer grinned and you undid his belt as you bit his thigh outside his pants softly, his hips moving a bit. you pulled down his pants and smiled as his erection popped out of his underwear.

spencer lowered the height of his chair so you wouldn't hit your head, and he whimpered a bit as you licked a line up the base of his dick and blew cold air on it. the tip of your tongue flicked against the slit of his cock, already leaking pre cum.

"bad girl, you're such a bad girl. you want to be caught, don't you? god, i could spank you over this desk if i could, shit" spencer hid a moan as you pushed his cock down your throat, nose hitting his lower stomach. spencer's fingers grip your hair and you gag, pulling away and gasping with a string of saliva falling from your tongue. "you're so pretty, baby"

"am i your good girl, doctor?" you asked with your cheeks hallowed, stroking his dick slowly with your mouth around his balls. spencer's adam's apple bobbed, licking his top lip and shaking his head softly.

"you're a bad girl, put my cock in your mouth" spencer moved his dick into your mouth and smacked your cheek softly, making you groan. you both jumped as there was a knock on the door, spencer scooting under the desk all the way. "y-yes, come.." you giggle and he smacks your cheek again, pointing at you. "don't try anything" he gritted his teeth before jennifer came in.

"hey, penelope called us in for a new case" you heard her and you smirk, swirling your tongue around his tip with your hand massaging his balls in your hand, a smirk still painted on your face. "you okay?"

"yeah, just, worried about my mom. i'm gonna call her and then i'll join you guys. y-you guys can start without me. please close the door on your way out" spencer barely spit out the sentence as his orgasm built at the bottom of his stomach.

"of course" jennifer left the office and you heard the door shut, spencer pulling his chair out and gripping your hair, pulling you up.

"you're such a fucking brat, you know that, huh? so now i'm gonna make you sit in my cum during that briefing" spencer sat you on the desk and went over to lock the door, coming back to you and pulling down your pants, pulling your underwear to the side and thrusting his cock into you.

"i'm your brat, doctor, all yours" you laid back against his desk, spencer's hand covering your mouth as his hips roughly clapped against yours. he bit your neck as he came into you, not even caring if you came or not. he pulled out slowly and put your underwear back in place, slapping your pussy softly before standing you up.

"pull your pants up, get yourself fixed up before you walk into that room, you hear me?" spencer's fingers tilted up your chin and you nod, whimpering as you feel his cum spilling out already. "uncomfortable?"

"a-a little" you look up at him, who smiled. spencer kissed you passionately before stroking your cheek softly.

"good. if you listen, maybe i'll let you clean yourself soon" you nodded and spencer smiled, kissing you again. "your makeup's a bit smudged, hair's crazy. they'd be suspicious, clean yourself up"

"yes, doctor" you kissed him before unlocking the door and heading to the bathroom, a smile on your face as you ran a hand through your hair, spencer walking with a little pep in his step as he headed to sit in with the rest of the team, watching you come into the room a couple minutes later, cleaned up hair and make up.

spencer smirked behind his hand as he watched you squirm, looking at you under his eyebrows and you shot him a pleading look, to which he shrugged and looked through his folder. this was going to be a long case.

[subspencer]

Imagine being in a relationship with subby!Spence and also working at the BAU. One day, someone brings their dog to work and you just kneel down in front of the puppy and start petting him and cooing, 'who's a good boy'.

And Spence who is just returning from the break room with coffee, overhears you and blurts out 'I am!' before realising he's actually at work and in public, and some of the team just heard that. 🥺💕💕💕 Ofc, you'd later tease him at home for it.

wc: 1,130

cw: sub-leaning switch!spencer. fluffy cuteness, then a whole lot of dirty talk. jealousy (from reader). very light breath play (spencer receiving). use of “good boy” and “slut” (both referring to spencer). reader also makes a lighthearted joke about calling spencer their “pet” but it’s not qualified as pet play/puppy kink.

It was a silly little slip-up that could happen to anyone. At least that’s what you tell him.

It was Anderson’s fault; he couldn’t find a dogsitter that day, so he brought in his brand new puppy to the office. Around lunch time, he started showing off all of the new tricks he taught him, and a small crowd had gathered outside of the break room to watch the adorable chocolate-coated labrador bounce around. 

Anderson handed you one of Scrappy’s dog bones and let you try commanding one of the tricks he learned.

“Scrappy, turn over!” you got onto your knees and waved the treat in front of the puppy’s face, and sure enough, he rolled over. “Good job, Scrappy!” you squealed, and at your excitement, the little ball of energy climbed your lap, pawing at your shoulders and licking your face. You giggled, scratching his fur, “Who’s a good boy, Scrappy? Who’s a good boy?” 

Spencer, who missed the entire beginning of that situation, walked right out of the break room just then, taking a sharp left turn. At first, he only saw you, kneeling on the floor with your back to him, as you cooed, “Who’s a good boy?” 

He smiled, giddy inside at hearing the pet name you kept for him in private, and bent down to press a kiss on your cheek, “I am!”

You whipped your head around, jaw dropping at him. “Spence…” you winced.

“What?” he pouted cutely, sticking his bottom lip out exaggeratedly. “I am, aren’t I?” 

Your eyes flicked to the side and he followed. Sure enough, to the right hand side of the door, was a gathering of your colleagues all holding back laughter. Derek’s whole fist was in his mouth to stifle his need to scream out, and Emily’s lip turned white with how hard she bit down on it. Everyone else was in a similar state, and Spencer’s face turned white. 

He spent the entire day unable to live that moment down. Each time he did something, like help Derek find a reference he was looking for or turn in a form to Hotch (yes, even Hotch), he saw them physically restrain themselves from blurting it out to him. Emily and Penelope didn’t even try to hold back. 

On the whole drive home, he kept his head in his hands, silently screaming into his palms as you tried to assure him it wasn’t a big deal. 

By the time you get into bed, he still hasn’t gotten over it. He sat through dinner, read his book, and took his pre-bedtime shower all while thinking about it. And now, he can’t even cuddle you like normal because he’s so wrapped up in the thoughts of every embarrassing thing he’s ever done playing in his head. 

“Spencer,” you complain, wrapping your arms around his waist tighter. He’s neglecting to hold you in return; his eyes are glued to the ceiling. You can tell where his head is at, and groan as you sit up. 

“Spencer, look at me,” you move to straddle his lap, bending over him to bring your face close to his as you cup his cheek. “It’s fine.”

He lets out an incoherent mumble, something you know to be self-pitying, and you ignore it as you start kissing his neck. His words eventually trail off as you begin rolling your hips down on him while nipping at his skin. You smile to yourself, hoping he’s feeling a little better now, but when you look up at his face he’s still pouting with big, sad eyes.

“Aw, baby,” you coo, pecking his pouting lips. “So what if you let our little secret slip today? It’s okay,” you reassure, rubbing your palm over the sides of his torso. “You just wanted everyone to know how good you are for me.” 

You smile, putting your hand under his tee and finding your way to his chest. The fabric bunches up on your wrist as you move your hand up, and you lower your head to kiss his newly exposed skin.

“You’re such a good boy,” you sigh between kisses, “and everyone should know it.” It’s working to relax him a little. Spencer’s hands wrap around your back, a small whine bubbles in his throat. “They should know you’re my good boy.” 

Your voice gets stern as you remember the others in the office calling him your pet name. Even if they were just teasing, no one gets to call him that but you. “Did you like it when everyone called you a good boy today?” you drip jealousy, tugging his hair to force him to look at you. “I bet you got a real kick out of that. All those pretty girls telling you you’re a good boy.” 

A small cry escapes his lips as you kiss him roughly, twisting his strands in your fingers. 

“N-no. I promise,” he pants as you move to his neck. 

“Are you sure?” you ask into his ear, grinding down on his hardening dick. “Because I think my little slut liked that.” 

His grip tightens on your hips as you begin rocking back and forth. Your hand moves to his throat, wrapping around as you squeeze, very lightly, around him. “I think they need a reminder, you’re good only for me.” 

He nods as much as he can with your fingers restricting his movement. “Only for you.” 

“Maybe I’ll buy you your own little collar,” you snicker, rolling forward to match his desperate little thrusts. “Have everyone know you’re my little pet.” 

He groans at the joke you couldn’t help but to make. It was just too easy. You giggle in his ear, releasing your hold on his throat to travel down his body and palm at his erection. He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from him as he flips you, putting you on your back with him on top. 

You gasp at how quickly he changed your situation, using his knee to knock your legs apart as he nestles perfectly between them. With just a few gracious waves of his hips, putting friction right at the perfect spot in your center, he has you mewling under him. 

Your hands come down to his hips, pressing him closer to you and urging his rocking to go deeper, give you more friction. But he removes them again, using one large hand to pin both your wrists above your head. You strain against his hold, not believing he’d truly deny you of touching him, but he does. His grip remains firm and he lifts his hips away from yours, leaving you whining.

“I think,” he says in one breathy laugh, fanning over your face, “I’d rather have them know how good you can be for me.” 

[imagineaworlds]

Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team

(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan,    switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 7645

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me. 

She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”

My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.

Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.

“Fuck!”

Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.

“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it. 

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going  to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too. 

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.��� He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”

“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.”

Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

----

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