#dirty dancing hotch fic

[boldlyvoid]

a dirty dancing hotch fic you say?

I UNO reversed this one so Aaron is Baby and the Reader is one of the dancers at Kellermans

It’s kinda hard to miss him. 

From the moment he rolls up behind his family's car on a motorcycle, every girl at the resort had ideas about what they’d like to do with him during summer vacation. Both the goody-goody girls with daddy’s money, seeing the resort as a waste of their time when they could be partying, and the servant girls who needed this job to live through the other 3 seasons of the year, were captivated by the new man. 

“Really, he’s just another white boy with brown hair, he’s not special,” Y/N shoved the shoulder of a co-worker whose jaw hit the floor. 

“He’s the older Hotchner boy, we haven’t seen him in a few years,” another voice explains. Sandy… Y/N turns to see her and then turns right back around. 

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s a reason,” she’s snippy. Never able to share a nice word with Sandy, not since she stole her solo this year at the Carlton. 

Every year the 2 best dancers are sent to the neighbouring resort to give a performance, and it has a huge payout. It’s normally given to the most senior, dedicated dancer to Kellerman’s, which would’ve been Y/N if Sandy didn’t start dating the owner's son for the season. She did it on purpose, she rubbed it in, and she clearly had a thing for this Hotchner guy. 

So Y/N walked right over to him, with a smile on her face and a pep in her step, “Welcome to Kellerman’s, where friendships are born,” she gives the cheesy tagline and watches the smile take over his face. “Anything I can do to help you settle in?” 

He just looks her up at down, “You’re not dressed like the wait staff…” 

“I’m with the entertainment crew,” she corrects, “but it looks like all the girls are too busy staring at your ass in those leather chaps to actually help move your luggage to your cabin.” 

“Finally,” his father's voice draws her attention away, “here, we’re going to the Presidential Suite.” He puts 2 dress bags in her arms and then 4 boxes of shoes on top. 

“Dad,” he looks like he’s ready to swing at him. “She’s not a servant.” 

“She offered, didn’t ya sweetheart?” 

She nods, not sure how to deal with conflict or old rich men. 

He rolls his eyes and takes the shoe boxes, “come on,” he points in the direction of their usual cabin, so it would seem. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“Is he usually like that or was it a long drive?” 

“Both,” he sighs, “I’m Aaron by the way, most people call me Hotch, though.” 

“Y/N,” she smiles, “I heard it's been a few summers since you’ve been here?” 

“I went to college,” he doesn’t go into detail. “I just got into Law School, Dad thought it would be nice to have two weeks off but I think he just wanted to make sure he has enough time to convince me to go to his choice school.” 

“Rich boy problems,” she teases him. Reaching the VIP suites, she opens the presidential door and places the bags on the main bed, “my parents didn’t want me to be a dancer full time, but look at me now.” 

“What did they want you to do?” 

She shrugs, “I’ll tell you when I figure it out. Till then, dancing pays the bills and there’s free lodging here.” 

He takes her hand before she can head back to help bring more luggage to his family's room, “come on, let’s get out of here.” 

“I can’t,” she tugs her hand away, “if I bring enough bags here, your dad might give me a 20 and I could buy some snacks for the week.” 

“I get it,” he looks upset, probably feeling used like all the other girls make him feel. He just walks off into the woods, taking the chance of them being friends with him. 

[kimstills]

i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?” content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader. word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao) notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

[bookshelf-dust]

the art of dancing in the kitchen

carmy berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,479

warnings: literally nothing? this is pure fluff with slight swearing and little baby innuendos. i did make reader a hairdresser because i just love the idea and it makes so much sense for this.

synopsis: nothing brings you more joy than spending time with carmen…except maybe having him help you bake.

a/n: i swear to you, i think this might be my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. i love it so much and it made me so happy to write. i found myself smiling at the screen while typing, if that tells you anything. i think i’d definitely like to continue writing things in this universe, too! carmy is so fun for me to write and i love coming up with ways to make him feel tangible. (also shoutout to the first pic because if you know, you know.) i hope you enjoy this one and happy reading!! <33

————

Carmy never sees you run as fast as you do when you’re leaving work. In this case, it’s just so he can eat lunch with you, but you rush out of the salon door just as fast.

Your sundress catches the wind, the hem flying behind you as you jog up to the passenger side door. You catch a glimpse of Carmen through the dirty window. His curls are crushed underneath that worn blue cap, but today it’s turned the wrong way around on his head.

It makes him look boyish. The hand rubbing over his mouth in an effort to hide a grin doesn’t help his case. 

If you’re honest, you’ve been giddy since six that morning, when you got up and remembered that Carmy was meeting you for lunch. And when you got to work and found it was much slower than expected, with no show after no show, you were so grateful for the blue eyed man waiting for you outside. In a loading zone, no less. 

You hop into the car, pulling the door shut behind you distractedly. You’re too eager to see him, and before you can even say hello, how are you, how’s life—anything—you’re kissing him. 

His lips feel a little chapped against yours, the skin slightly dry and cracked, but you don’t mind. It feels like he’s just shaved, his jaw all smooth, and he smells like cinnamon and dish soap and cigarettes, but you’d be a liar if you tried to claim that wasn’t the best smell in the world.

You pull away from his kiss, locking eyes with him, where his pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed like he’s been pinched. “Hi, gorgeous,” you say. 

Carmen laughs, that little shy one that’s more of a big puff of air than a chuckle. He shakes his head at you, still not used to someone being so excited about his presence, so…enamored by him. 

“Hey, you,” Carmy answers, placing both of his hands on your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment. He’s trying to drink you in. He does this every chance he gets because he literally cannot believe you’re real. He’s not dissociating, he’s not daydreaming. This is his life.

Your already broad smile widens as you take the opportunity to stare back at him. Your eyes wander to his just-too-long sideburns. “I think it’s time for a trim again, Carm. Lookin’ a little grizzly there.” You ruffle his curls, which feel surprisingly clean. 

Carmy watches you bite your thumbnail in an effort to conceal the laugh threatening to burst from your throat due to your own horrible joke. 

“Ha, ha. So funny.”

He puts the car in drive and listens to you giggle to yourself as you fasten your seatbelt. Neither of you say much on the very short drive to the park across the street, knowing you’ll be able to vent as much as you please while you eat. 

“Cross your fingers our bench is free?” you say, raising your hand up towards Carmen. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as if that also counts as a way of manifesting your favorite seat. Carmy lifts his fingers in the air, the middle crossed over the index and gently knocks his hand against yours. 

You pull into the parking lot, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires filling your ears, and your gaze immediately flies to the bench underneath the biggest tree with the most shade and the best view for people watching. “Fuck, yeah!” you shout, a brilliant smile blooming on your face as you unbuckle. 

Carmy laughs for real this time, the corners of his eyes going all soft and crinkly at your joy. “Run over there and claim it, yeah? I’ll grab everything.”

You push open the car door and stand quickly, smoothing the sweet ruffles of your dress. You wink, already starting to happily jog away. “Yes, chef!” Carm catches your salute just before he reaches in the backseat for the cooler and bag of food he brought with him from the restaurant.

On your bench, you prop your hand on your chin, tuck your foot under your thigh, and watch as Carmen walks up the short little incline to you. He looks gorgeous.

He’s wearing jeans, Levi’s that hug his ass and thighs just right. He has on an old “I heart New York” t-shirt that he only wears when he hasn’t caught up on laundry (and only bought for that same reason a few years ago). 

His curls and necklace bounce almost in sync, and you can’t help but think that he just looks so pure and free.

And he’s got this glint in his eye that’s directed right on you. 

“Ebra made your favorite. He heard I was meeting you for lunch and insisted he do it,” Carmy says, snapping you out of your how-could-this-man-get-any-more-sexy daze. 

He places the tin foil wrapped sandwich in front of you, pretending not to notice the way you’re gawking at him. “I swear he’s never been so gentle with roast beef.”

You smile, pulling up the strap on your dress where it’s started to slip. Carmy leans over the table to press a kiss to your shoulder. It makes your stomach flip. 

“Did he make yours for you?” you ask, mouth watering impatiently as you lift the still-warm bread up so you can take a messy bite. 

Carmen hands you a napkin. “Put that over your chest—yeah, like that. So you don’t get your dress dirty.” He rips open a bag of chips for you to share. “But to answer your question, fuck no he didn’t.”

You toss your head back and laugh. “You’ll have to tell him I said thank you for making such a yummy lunch for me.” Your boyfriend watches as you suck a stream of au jus from your thumb. 

Carmy scoffs playfully. You wink at him. “I did have the cutest delivery boy though.”

His brow raises, and the corners of his mouth quirk while he chews on the handful of potato chips he’s just shoved in his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

You hum. “Yep. Cute even with roast beef stuck in his teeth.”

Carmy falls for it, quickly taking a sip of his drink like he’s going to wash the beef free. But the twinkle in your eye tips him off. “You’re fuckin’ with me?”

You wipe your grinning mouth. “‘Course I am, Bear.”

Carmen raises up from his side of the picnic table just enough so that he’s leaning across to meet you halfway. He waves you closer with his hands. “Come on now, you owe me a kiss for bein’ a little shit.”

You brace your palms against the worn—and slightly damp from last night's rain shower—wood, quickly connecting your lips with Carmy’s. 

You do this thing where you start smiling into the kiss and in turn it makes Carmen smile because your giddiness to have your mouth on his is insanely fucking contagious, and he’d be a damn fool not to join in.

When you pull apart you make sure to quickly kiss both of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “There’s your tip for being such a pretty delivery boy and bringin’ me lunch.”

The both of you settle into quiet conversation, catching up on whatever as you finish your sandwiches and drinks. Carmy reaches across the table to hold your hand, rubbing the pads of his fingers over your polished nails. He likes the way they feel.

As a surprise to end your lunch hour, he pulls out a little back holding two oversized oatmeal raisin cookies. One for each of you. And he knows those are your favorite. You do a happy little wiggle in your seat when you see them. It makes him laugh, makes his stomach flip. 

“Marcus made a batch of these, just tryin’ out cookie recipes? We thought having them out front for people to grab on their way out would be smart.”

You take the cookie from him. “That is smart. And I already know it’s gonna be yummy.”

“Damn straight. I ate like, four of them as my breakfast and lunch yesterday. But that’s not important. How’s work so far?” 

You’ll have to berate him about that later. The man cannot eat cookies and wash them down with Pepto Bismol and call it a day. 

You demolish your cookie within seconds. “Work has been so fuckin’ slow today, Bear. We’ve had all these no shows, so I got set up and then they don’t come and now I’ll have to send them the files about the fee.”

“You want me to yell at ‘em for you? Tell them how they’re missin’ out on the world’s best haircut and color?”

You smack him playfully on the wrist. “I just love my job, y’know? So it sucks when I sit there playin’ on my phone instead of listening to all the gossip my customers bring me.”

Carmy downs the rest of his Coke and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “If it helps, I’ll let you give me that trim after service tonight.”

“At least I know you won’t cancel on me.”

Carmen watches you for a minute, losing himself in now fucking ethereal you are. He’s never imagined himself using the word, but that’s the only proper way to describe you. And he secretly loves you cutting his hair because your hands feel so good, especially when you wash it for him. 

“I’ll tip you real good too, baby.” Carmy blushes at his own joke and it makes you laugh. Mid-laugh though, your eyes widen like you’ve just had an idea. It feels a little devious to him.

You pull out your phone. “Oh! When I was doomscrolling this morning, I found this video of blueberry muffins—dammit, of course I can’t find it now—but they had the…the…”

You lift your hand, wiggling your fingers in a sort of sprinkly motion like you’re try to demonstrate what you’d seen. “The crumbly shit, Carm! I don’t know what the fuck it’s called.”

You reach over and take both of his hands. “Point is, they looked really yummy and I wondered if you’d help me make them?”

Carmy starts chuckling. He definitely knew what you were talking about with your hand gesture, since you’re always making them and he’s got them memorized by now, but it’s so fucking fun to see your brain work. 

He begins to gather up your trash and put it back in the bag he brought it in. 

“Yeah, I think I have enough flour and shit. There’s some frozen blueberries in the back of the freezer. But do you want the crumbly shit, or streusel?”

“Carmen, sweet angel baby, I don’t know what streusel is.”

“It’s usually got cinnamon and nuts and shit, so that’s what we’ll do because I know how you like your nuts, love.”

You take his hand when he offers it to help you stand. You smack a big, wet kiss on his lip. You let your eyes drag up and down his form before you begin to walk back to the car. 

“Sure do, Carmy.”

————

“You don’t need a recipe or anything?”

Carm presses a sweet kiss to your lips and passes you a few fresh blueberries to snack on. He’d grabbed some at the store on the way home because was he really going to teach his girlfriend how to make muffins with a questionable bag of frozen blueberries? Fuck no.

“Nah, it’s all pretty simple. I’ll tell you everything to do, and I can write one out for you if you ever wanna make ‘em when I’m not home.”

You pinch his sides, raising up on your tippy toes to express your giddiness. “Really? Holy shit, I love that.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah?” Carmen cups your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his because he wants a kiss.

You start to talk while his lips are still on yours. “It’s your handwriting. I have a thing for it.”

He bites your bottom lip playfully. “You’re insane,” he says, smiling through each syllable. He pulls back briefly. “That reminds me, I got you somethin’.”

Carmen walks to the living room and pulls something out of his work bag. “Does this have to do with my insanity?” you ask, jokingly. 

He shakes his head. “Only with your insanely cute ass.” He holds up an apron. “It’s your honorary chef apron. Ta-da.”

It’s the same blue as his at work, except it has a ruffled hem and the logo for The Bear embroidered on the chest. Your brows shoot up.

“You got this today, Carm?” The alarm in your voice makes him smile. 

Carmy walks up to you and starts tying it around your waist. “No, no, not today. I got it awhile back, but you bringing up muffins made me remember I’d ordered it. It came with the chef’s whites and shit.”

“You got it made for me?” Your voice pitches up a notch, causing Carmen to spin you around so you’re facing him. 

“‘Course I did. Couldn’t leave my number one out. And yours is cuter than everyone else’s.”

Your eyes water, just slightly, and you start smothering Carmy’s face with kisses until he starts to giggle boyishly. “Okay, okay!” he fusses, “No tears, only muffins.” He grabs your hips and moves you in front of the counter where he’s laid out all the ingredients for you. “Let’s get movin’ now, yeah? This shit is making me hungry.”

————

“Why do they tell you to fold it in? I’m not doing fuckin’ laundry, Bear.”

Carmy is sitting on the counter next to you, watching you intensely. There are floury handprints on your apron and you have your tongue poking out in concentration. He keeps bringing a straw to your lips every few minutes to keep you hydrated, like this is a very important surgical operation. 

“Probably ‘cause it looks like folds when you do that?” You smack him on the knee and continue to fold in all the ingredients, pretending like you don’t see exactly what he means.

Once you feel like it’s all combined you let go of the spatula and turn to Carmen. 

“What now, Bear?”

“You gotta mix up the sugar and the flour and the cinnamon, and then you can add your little nut mixture and I’ll show you how to do the butter.”

You reach for the collection of small glass bowls Carmy set out for you. “So sassy,” you say, shaking your shoulder just a little. 

He smiles at you and extends a socked foot out to lightly kick you on the butt. But you were expecting it, so you reach behind you and grab his ankle, tickling the bottom of his foot, which is where he’s most ticklish. It’s his Achilles heel. 

Carmy releases a short bout of laughter before pulling away from you to catch his breath. “Fucker.”

You grin, leaning over the sink to wash your hands for the umpteenth time. “But I’m your fucker, angel boy.”

He hops off the counter, scooching in behind you to press a kiss to your clammy cheek. “Can’t argue with that,” he says. 

Carm watches over your shoulder as you add a small mix of crushed almonds, granola, and pecans to your streusel topping. “Good job, baby. Now I need you to cut a few pats of butter and add ‘em in. Just do a few—yeah, just like that—and you can start mixing it up. You can use your hands if you need to since it gets so difficult to stir.”

The warmth of Carmy’s chest against your back should be unnerving, what with him observing your every move. 

But it isn’t. Rather, it's comforting. When the butter combines with your little potion mix as much as it can, you use your hands to make sure nothing gets left behind. 

“You’re very good at making sure the crumbly shit is crumbly, lovebug.”

You look over your shoulder at Carmen as you finally slide the finished tray into the oven. “I’m givin’ you a run for your money, aren’t I, Bear?”

He smiles at you, reaching around your waist to untie your apron and lift it over your head. He hangs it on the little rack meant for keys. “Might have to tell Marcus about this. Get you in there, helpin’ him decorate donuts and shit.”

You push up on your toes and wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck. His go around the small of your back like that’s the only job they’ve ever had. 

“So you can throw them on the floor?” you quip, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. You know you’re being a little shit, but at least it’s a memory you can all laugh at now. 

Carmy’s lips quirk up at the corners. His right hand lowers and squeezes at the fat of your ass, a little menacingly, but loving all the same. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

You lower your forehead so that it’s resting on Carm’s chest. He feels your giggle against his skin. Feels the way your fingers play with his necklace where they rest at the back of his neck. It’s giving him goosebumps. 

“Nope,” you say, that cute little teasing lilt to your voice. 

Carmy tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up into the air, spinning you around his small kitchen a few times. Just enough that you squeal out of surprise, out of pure, unadulterated joy because of this romantic ass gesture that feels straight out of a story book. You pop your feet up for good measure. You could never let Princess Mia down like that.

When he sets you down, you both stare at each other for a moment, catching your breath with these stupid happy smiles on your faces. And right there, you both feel that little bolt of electricity. The one that tells you this will never go away. This connection is everlasting. 

It takes a minute for you to register that you’re both shuffling lightly across the floor, in gentle, sloppy circles. 

You look down at Carmy’s socked feet and back up to meet his eyes. “Does this count as dancing?”

He scratches his nose. “Couldn’t tell you.”

You kiss the spot where he was self-consciously rubbing. “Maybe we should practice, you know, in case we need to dance someday.”

Carmen snorts. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

You play with the curls around his ears, remembering your promise to give him that trim. “Have you ever danced, Mr. Berzatto?”

He kisses you. “Only alone in my room.”

You kiss him. “That what you do when I’m not around?”

He kisses you a second time. “Yep. Busted. But Richie used to try and make us play Just Dance with him when he got drunk.” He grins at the little chuckle you let out. “What about you?” he starts. “Have a past dancing career?”

You shake your head, admiring every little freckle on his face. Every little dry patch of skin, every line. 

“In high school, me and my girlfriends would usually just hold hands and spin around in a little dance circle since we were all single. It was very cool of us.”

“I would’ve paid to see that,” Carmy says, cupping your jaw. You grin up at him, eyes twinkling. You imagine you’ve got big ‘ol pink hearts fluttering back and forth at him. 

You both melt into each other after that. Slowly shuffling around the kitchen, hips swaying to music that isn’t there. Usually Carmy would be on the verge of shitting his pants in a situation like this, but…it’s you. You’re safe. 

Why wouldn’t he dance with you? 

Carmen brings his lips to your ear. “Is there music in your head right now?”

“Rick Astley,” you whisper. 

Carmy blinks. 

And then he tosses his head back, laughing. “Seriously?” 

“Nope. I just wanted to hear you laugh,” you say, and kiss the chuckle right off his lips. He kisses you back, pecking your lips three times in quick succession because one is just never enough. You tug on a curl. “We’re stupid in love, aren’t we?”

“We’re dancing, shuffling like old people really, in my shitty kitchen on a weeknight, and waiting on blueberry muffins that I’m pretty sure we’ll finish within the hour.”

“Oh my god, Bear.”

“Yeah, baby. We’re stupid in love.”

You are. And when you sit on the kitchen floor, your socked feet in his lap, eating warm muffins and getting butter all over your fingers and down your wrists, that only confirms it. 

Those are the best damn muffins you’ve ever had. And Carmy’s lips taste like blueberries for the rest of the night. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[burning-omen]

Kinktober day 3: Public play + Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x male!reader

Kinktober 2034 list | Day 1 | Day 4 | Ao3

A/n: ITS STILL OCTOBER 3RD I DONT CARE HOW LATE IT IS

Summary: you and Spencer fuck in the back alley of a bar

Warning: public sex, “good boy”, not beta read, short fic, formatting error that will be fixed late but it's 11:58 and I refuse to miss a day!

Word count: 967

The team always went to bars after a mission, well not always, but frequently enough for it to be normal. Today was just like another day, with the team spread out around the bar, JJ and Garcia were at a table chatting together, Hotch was at the bar, a very intense look on his face but you could tell he was having fun, apparently him and the bartender knew each other. Morgan had settled at a table, shirt long gone after about an hour of dancing. Prentiss sat across from him, sipping her drink and laughing at Morgan’s sweaty misfortune. Rossi, old, stayed home after the mission.

Spencer was…somewhere else. He'd watched you slip out the back door of the club before excusing himself and following after you.

With one of your hands over his mouth, concealing his high moans from any who may pass by the alley, his pants pooling around his ankles, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He had to keep quiet, and the both of you had to be quick. Spencer had asked for this, you don't know where he got the idea, but on the flight back, just as you were falling asleep, you felt him lean in close and detail every little thing he wanted you to do to him in this alley, right next to the bar you and the rest of the team were so familiar with. You neatly fell out of your seat then, wondering when and where he'd gotten his sense of adventure from. And then he was just so…normal for the rest of the flight, the nerve of that man.

Well, that nerve lead to him getting fucked in the alley, just like he'd asked. Only a few words were exchanged, considering that the moment he walked through the back door you were ready to rip his clothes off and take him where he stood. But you didn't, you were civil, you made sure he was okay with this, to which you received beyond enthusiastic consent, with the green light to go ahead, you came at him at full force.

Now here he was, eyes rolling into the back of his head, clawing at the brick wall to try and find some kind of purchase against it. He didn't, his hands only becoming more and more dirty with every attempt. His face was flushed red and you could hear his pretty little moans even with your hand covering his mouth.

You heard him whine and hiss as your cock stretched his barely prepped hole. Considering this was a fairly spare of the moment event, you didn't really have the time to.

But that was fine, Spencer liked pain. He'd given you a full psychological breakdown as to why he did, from trauma to just being born that way. It made things more exciting

You pressed your full body against him, crowding him against the wall, your body pressed against his back, as a car with particularly bright lights drove past. The two of you panted together, still as can be, as you waited for it to leave. When it did you breathed a sigh of relief, then kept thrusting into Spencer like nothing had happened, he was very greatful for that.

The risk only amplified everything for Spencer, he'd stopped being the perfect boy genius in people's eyes a while ago, but now, if someone saw him like this, he wouldn't even be worthy of their respect.

And that turned him on more than anything.

He pushed his hips back against you, meeting you halfway with every thrust.

“Thars it,” you said in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear, “Good boy, keep going.”

And he did, practically riding you. He'd do anything for you, he realized, anything for your respect and approval. He needed it more than anything. His mouth fell open with a beautiful moan, his head resting back against your shoulders, his body enveloped with sweat. Your cock pressed against his walls in a way that made his knees weak, you were practically supporting his whole body in your arms.

“L/n-” he gasped, his voice muffled.

You moved your hand, letting him talk, but the only thing that came out was erotic, wet moans. You considered, for a moment, covering his mouth again, but you didn't. Letting his wild moans be heard by whoever was near.

“You’re so pretty, Reid, so fucking pretty like this.”

Your words only fueled him further. Rocking his hips back, wanting every inch of you in him constantly.

“Y/n!” he cried, “motherfu- ah- ah— good, so good, “

His moans got louder and loud, more desperate, frantic, and praising as he got closer and closer to cumming. The tip of his cock just inches from the brick wall in front of him, leaking gallons of pre-cum onto the floor.

He didn't want you to know when he finished, if the massive stain of white cum on a dark red wall wasn't obvious enough, the way his shoulder slumped and his entire body seemed to release any attention it was holding would have done it.

You didn't stop, this was a part of his fantasy after all. You using him for your own personal pleasure. And you did. Fucking him faster, harder, with only yourself in mind. You pulled out seconds before you came, watching it splatter across his and shoot up his back.

You don't know what he enjoyed more, getting fucked, or walking back into the bar after like nothing had happened. His shirt sticking to his back, his hole sensitive and stretched, and his brain an absolute mess.

You didn't stick around long after, maybe another 30 minutes before you dragged Spencer back home to do it all again.

[angelhotchner]

Hands

Two fics in one night??? who is she she's sprint writing lmao

anyways, this is for my dirty smoochy angels who gave me a hotch's hands!kink <3

Hands

NSFW Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader Contents: Smut, hands!kink, clit play Format: Drabble CM Timeline: N/A. Word Count: 1.5K

“I want to try something with you,”

Your heart thundered in your chest as you blinked at Aaron. He stood in your kitchen, drying his hands with a towel after washing the dishes that you’d used to cook him a meal. Jack was away for the weekend, and Hotch had muttered something about grabbing takeout as you said goodnight to him.

So you ended up dragging him to your place, adamant that your boss needed a home-cooked meal for once.

It seemed a good idea in theory, apart from the fact that you were completely enamoured by the man and he had no idea. Or so you thought. What you didn’t know was that the man had been taking extra notice of you these last few months, noticing how your gaze always fell onto his face, or his arms or hands. Whenever he was on his phone, he’d glance up to find you staring. But never at the phone itself - at his hands that held it like it was tiny.

And what you really didn’t know was that your face was the face that he saw in the dark hours, when the only illumination in the room was his bedside lamp as he lay in bed, his hand pumping his cock.

You watched how the towel glided along the roughness of his hands, the way his knuckles flexed as he placed the towel onto the counter island.

You coughed, shaking yourself out of your daze.

“What?” You managed to mumble as he met your gaze.

He said nothing, but walked around the island so that he was behind you. His left hand stroked your wrist softly, before his palm gently grazed up your arm, onto the shoulder, brushing your hair away from your neck.

“If I’m wrong, tell me now,” He whispered. You took a deep breath.

“You’re not,”

“Please tell me what you want,” His mouth was right beside your ear, his breath tickling your skin, creating a wave of goosebumps.

“Touch me,”

His hand graced upwards from your shoulder, his nails creating a dizzying pattern around your neck.

“Keep telling me,”

“Choke me,”

His fingers continued their dance around your neck, until his entire hand came to rest at the front of your neck. Tentatively, his fingers creeped around until they were holding you, and he began to squeeze your throat - softly at first - as his teeth pulled at your earlobe.

A soft whine seeped from your lips, and Hotch groaned as he buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting as his grip became stronger and stronger around your throat.

Just as it was starting to become too much, you tapped his hand lightly and he released you, but kept his hand on your skin, this time travelling down the front of your top. You turned your head just as his fingers slid under your bra, finding your hardened nipple straight away and beginning to play with it. His other hand locked itself into your hair, pulling you even closer to him as his open mouth met yours - warm and seductive, with an added excitement at the idea that what was happening right now could be completely wrong. But neither of you cared as his hand continued to work on your breast, awarding him with whimpers and groans into his mouth as his tongue slid across yours.

But you had to break the fantasy. A little voice was whining in the back of your head, urging you to stop - to question what was happening right now.

You broke away from the kiss.

“Stop,”

His hand slipped upwards, away from your skin and out of your reach and you missed the feeling straight away, but your chest was beginning to feel too tight to be comfortable. You turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s just..is this? I mean, is thi--fuck. What is going on right now? Is this okay? I’m freaking out, Aaron,” Your words slipped on top of each other as your breathing became a little more erratic than it should have been.

“Y/N,” He placed his hands onto your shoulders firmly. His eyes read determination, seriousness but a softness glistened within them, and your breathing began to slow back down. “I want you, but only if you want me,”

A giggle escaped your lips as you smiled. “Shit, I want you, Aaron. But why now? Why right now, when we’ve never spoken about this before?”

“I felt like it was now or never. I’d never make a move if I didn’t do it tonight,”

You stared at him and found a small air of vulnerability seeping through his features. It was enough to shut the voice in your head up.

You fisted a handful of his t-shirt, pulling him towards you roughly.

“Touch me again,” You whispered. He didn’t need to be told twice, though this time his hands were hungry - grasping at your flesh, his nails digging in as you watched his arms tense up, the veins creating a boiling hot fire deep within you. You matched his desperation, allowing your hands to roam wherever they wanted, wherever you’d dreamed of touching him, all the while your lips and tongues clashing together in a blurry, hot frenzy.

He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, pulling you towards him with such a force that the stool that you were sitting on came tumbling down with a loud crash. Neither of you cared as he continued to ravage your mouth, your body, as he carried you to your couch in the living room.

“Undress me,” You gasped in between kisses, your breaths excited and shallow as he detangled himself from you, taking his time to pull your t-shirt over your head. His fingers trailed around the bare skin on your back as he unclasped your bra, before moving on to pull your shorts down. You stepped out of your shorts and underwear, staring down at him as he kneeled in front of you, his eyes worshipping your body. You felt a fire race around your skin, following where his eyes roamed as he took in the sight of you.

The look on his face was an expression that you couldn't have even dreamed of. His chest rose and fell heavily as the lust grew in his blood, his pupils blown out as he raked your body with a ravenous smile. Watching you as if you were something holier than he deserved to see, as if he couldn’t quite believe how you looked under the clothes that he’d always seen you in - like his imagination was being kicked in the gut for not preparing him for this sight...in the best way possible.

Without any warning or sign, his hand glazed against your clit. You let out a sharp gasp as his thumb began to rub you gently.

“Your hands,” You whined as he increased his pressure. He smirked at you, before removing his hands from you. The ends of his fingers glistened. You grabbed his hand, the rough skin sparking a pang of desperation down below as you suckled onto his fingers, the look on his face driving you wild.

“I knew it was my hands,” He muttered. You pushed his fingers out of your mouth, and they slowly slid back down to your clit, teasingly rubbing circles.

“What?” It came out as a whine as he suddenly pushed his fingers down, creating a rhythm that you thought only you could do well on yourself. He was almost better at it than you were.

“You always stare at my hands,”

“They get me off,” You admitted, with a series of moans and cursing soon following as you felt an orgasm approaching - way quicker than you’d ever known it to happen.

“They get me off too,”

“They do?”

Your back was already beginning to arch as you felt a burning light coming for you, creeping up your shoulders and tensing them up as the fire built.

“I always thought about my hands on you. They look so good on you,” He whispered. His free hand closed around your neck without warning as his pace on your clit became relentless. The fire exploded, the build-up becoming too much as you came, his name trailing out of your mouth amidst the soft whines as you relished in the feeling. Your body felt alive - more alive than it ever had before - and just when you thought the feeling was subsiding, it crashed upon you again in a fizzing wave just from the sight of him watching you in awe.

No one had ever made you cum quite like Aaron Hotchner just did.

-----

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[hotch-stufff]

53 from the angst list for Spencer (either Moreid, Hotchreid or y/n whichever you want)

Heartbroken

gif by eyelovemgg

Pairing: Reid x reader

Warnings!: Angst, Death, Readers death, more angst, kinda graphic, literally the entire fic is angst, sorry guys

Promt: Angst #53 Dying Confession

Authors Note: AHH, I have never written for Reid before, I'm so sorry if this is bad.

--------

Spencer Reid was a smart man. Well, he was more than smart, he was a genius. With an IQ of 187, the guy had 3 bachelors degrees and 3 PhDs. But he was absolutely clueless when it came to social cues, or even flirting. You would know, you've been trying for months.

You had fallen for Reid rather quickly when you think about it. Most people would probably have gone for Derek Morgan. But Reid captured your attention the moment you had met him.

His hair had fallen over his eyes and he, of course, didn't shake your hand. You knew he was a genius the moment he spewed off a fact about the book he could see peeking out of your bag. Being almost the same age you became fast friends, which led to the development of feelings. Which led to the pining, and the flirting with the oblivious man. Which eventually all led to the moment you were in now.

The unsub was pointing his gun at his latest victim. She was shaking and sobbing as the man held the gun to her forehead. You were desperately trying to talk him down, but he wasn't listening. Suddenly Reid stepped forward, and a flash the gun was pointed at him. The unsub pulled the trigger and Reid waited for the pain, but it never came. Another shot went off causing Reid to open his eyes as he watched you fall to the ground, the unsub soon joining you.

"No, no, no, no!" Spencer fell to his knees leaning over you instantly applying pressure to your wound. You yelled out in pain.

"Why would you do that?" He said to you angrily. "Reckless and stupid. Why?" He applied more pressure to your wound trying to stop the bleeding.

"Noo, please, it h-hurts." You slurred out. Spencer's face softened. He didn't know what to do, he tried comforting you the best he could.

"I know, but I need you to hold on. Hotch and Morgan are almost here. EMTs are almost here, just hold on." You tried taking a breath, but a sharp pain erupted from your chest. You knew you didn't have much longer.

"M'sorry Spence." You breathing began to slow, it was barely there. "I love you, I always have." Tears filled you eyes.

"Y/n, I love you too. So you can't leave. We-we have to be together." He pulled you impossibly tighter, applying more pressure.

"Tell me." You coughed, red seeping out of your mouth. "Tell me about-" you cut off into another cough, but he understood what you meant.

"We can go to a nice restaurant, eat a delicious meal, or we could stay in and relax, watching your favorite movie, dirty dancing, of course." This earned a laugh from you, as best you could. "We'll go out for a year or two until I work up the nerve to propose. You'll of course say yes and we'll get married in the fall, your favorite time of year. Hotch will ealk you down the aisle because he's like the father you never had. Then we'll have kids, 1 or 2, maybe more. And we'll eventually retire from the BAU and grow old together." The tears were cascading down his face now.

"S-sounds bueatiful Spence." He could tell you were leaving. You couldn't hold on much longer. So he made you comfortable, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap.

"We'll wake up in each other's arms everyday." He paused leaning down to press his lips to yours for the first and last time. "And we'll give eachother soft kisses as we wake up." You smiled up at him. It was time.

"I love you." Your eyes drifted shut as your chest deflated. He felt your body grow cold, it was almost lighter. And he knew you were gone.

He let out a heartbreaking noise and pulled your body closer. He cried and cried and cried.

And that's how the team found him. Hunched over you, the woman he loved. Hotch almost couldn't handle it, seeing the girl he thought of as a daughter lying on the ground, dead.

The worst part is they all knew how you and Reid felt about eachother. And they all knew how this would tear Reid apart. They all knew how heartbroken he was.

You were gone, and there was nothing they could do to fix it.

--------

Oh my gosh, I swear I cried writing this. Hope you guys like it. Like I said its my first Reid fic so any feedback is super appreciated.

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

[sequinsmile-x]

Bait

In which Aaron looks like the victims of the case they are on, and Emily does not like Dave's suggestion that they use her boyfriend as bait.

This was originally meant to be a mini fic for here, but in a way that is very on brand I got carried away and now its a full on one shot.

Words: 4k 

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

Let me know what you think! 

Emily wakes to the sounds of a phone ringing. She groans when the arm that had been wrapped around her waist moves, leaving the chill from the air to hit her skin.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rough with the early morning, and it was clear he’d had very limited sleep. She settles down further into the bed, trying to claim the last few moments of rest before they have to leave. “Ok thanks, Garcia. Call the others and tell them to go straight to the jet.”

He hangs up and lays back down behind her. He closes the gap between them, pressing his naked chest up against her back. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, nudging hair away from her neck with his nose so he can kiss her throat.

“Morning.” He says, nuzzling her neck. “We’ve got a case in Colorado. We’re meeting on the jet and Garcia is going to brief us in full once we’re wheels up.” He kisses the side of her head. “She’ll call you soon.”

“It’s way too early.” She grumbles, opening one eye to see it was only just 4am. She bats at him when he laughs into her neck. He grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles, laughing when she grumbles again, curse words whispered at him under her breath.

The longer they had been together, now 6 months since his fumbled attempt at asking her out on their first date, the more she felt uncomfortable that they were keeping this from the team. It was starting to feel like a dirty secret, when it was anything but. They loved each other, they’d had a serious conversation about their future. Discussions of a house, a wedding and children whilst laying in the dark together. But they still hadn’t taken that step, still hadn’t told the people they considered their family that they were a couple. Emily knows it’s because they were in too deep now, too far into this secret to claw their way out without there being some uncomfortable conversations.

She knew they’d be happy for them, but it would open their relationship that had been almost exclusively just for them up to scrutiny. The others would watch them, try to observe their behaviour around each other. Their relationship meant too much to her for it to be profiled like the criminals they chased.

She was surprised they hadn’t caught it at JJ’s wedding. Her and Aaron had danced together, his hand a little too low on her back for it to be considered friendly. How they had both disappeared into Dave’s house at the same time, gone for 30 minutes with poor excuses for their absence upon their return. She still couldn’t go into Dave’s first floor bathroom without blushing, memories of her pushed up against the door with Aaron’s hand over her mouth. His joy at her decision to stay, to turn down Clyde’s offer of a job across an ocean, was too great for them to wait until they got back to his home or hers.

Her phone rings and she sighs as she extracts herself from his embrace just enough to pick up her cell phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Pen.”

Emily tries to listen to Penelope as she gives her the same basic details she had given Aaron only moments before, but she is distracted by his lips against her neck, his hand drifting down her abdomen. She manages to catch it with her spare hand, gripping a little harder than necessary when she links their fingers, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

She hangs up the phone with a goodbye to Penelope, hoping the other woman hadn’t heard Aaron’s laugh he had attempted to press into her skin. “That was mean.”

“It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

Emily turns over and kisses him, anchoring her hand to the back of his head. She pulls back enough to smile at him. “Do you have a suit here?”

Aaron nods, kissing her gently. “Yes. And my go-bag is in my car.”

She smiles. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “That means we have time for a shower before you have to go.” _____________

When she steps onto the jet the only seat left is next to Aaron. He looks at her, an eyebrow raised as she sits next to him.

“You’re late, Prentiss.”

She looks at him pointedly, a subtle narrowing of her eyes that she knows he catches.

“Sorry, sir.” She says, biting back the temptation to say it was his fault she was late in the first place, their joint shower lasting twice as long as it should have done. He’d left her at her place less than half an hour ago, a kiss pressed to her lips as she was drying her hair, a promise that he would see her soon. “It won’t happen again.”

Emily fights a smirk at the brief sparkle in his eye. This had become part of their game, pushing the boundaries a little further each time, wondering when the team would catch on to what was going on between them.

They all make small talk as the jet takes off, pointless conversation over cups of coffee. Once they reach altitude Penelope calls and they start to go over the case. Emily freezes when she looks at the pictures of the victims. They are all male. Handsome. White, tall and broad with dark hair.

They all looked like Aaron.

And these men were being viciously beaten to death. She looked up and everyone was still listening to Penelope as she told them the details. It gave her a second to recover, forcing herself to tune back into the conversation around her. ____________

They were struggling to build a profile. The men who were being killed had little in common apart from how they looked and where they were being killed. The only bar in town, a dingy place that reminded Emily too much of her misspent youth.

On the second day they were in town another man was found dead in the alley behind the bar, his face beaten almost beyond recognition. Emily went and delivered the news to his widow, and desperately tried to ignore how much the man in the pictures displayed on the walls looked like Aaron.

She barely sleeps that night. They were good on cases, rarely sneaking into each other's rooms. She knew he had to have seen it too, that she wasn’t imagining how similar the victims looked to him, so she didn’t want to burden him with it. She didn’t want to make this about how it was making her feel. So she stayed in her room, and eventually drifted off to sleep in a bed she wished he was in too.

Emily wakes up gasping, images of Aaron’s dead body in that alley burned into her eyelids.

She doesn’t sleep again that night, and is grateful when he presses a coffee into her hands in the morning, his thumb discreetly skating over her knuckles. ____________

“What shall we do now?” JJ asks. There were concerns that the unsubs, because they had figured there must be more than one person given the size of the men being killed, would strike again that night. The devolution of their actions indicated that there would be an attack a night until they were caught.

“We just so happen to have someone on the team that matches the victim profile.” Dave says, acknowledging what none of them had said out loud in the three days they had been in Colorado. Everyone looks at Aaron expectantly, and Emily thinks she has never been closer to killing David Rossi. “We could plant you at the bar where the victims have gone missing from, see if we can draw the unsub in.”

“And what?” Emily says, somehow keeping her voice even. “Use Hotch as bait?”

“It’s our only option.” Aaron says, a flash of apology across his face as he briefly looks at her. “I can’t exactly wear this to a club.” He says gesturing to his suit. “I very clearly look like an FBI agent.”

Derek and Dave laugh at his attempt at humour, Emily does not.

“Hotch.” She says evenly, her voice not betraying the emotions that were tumbling around in her chest. He turns to look at her, his face neutral. “Can I have a quick word?” She tilts her head towards an empty office and he nods and follows. If the others think it's odd that she wants to speak to him alone they don’t say anything.

“I don’t like this, Aaron.” She says as soon as the door closes behind them, her voice a rushed whisper, not wanting anyone to potentially overhear if they walked past the tiny office. He opens his mouth to speak, but she talks again, cutting him off before he can even start. “We don’t know enough how the unsubs are doing this. Or why they are doing it. It’s too risky.”

“Emily.” Aaron says, his voice soft in a way he only usually used with her when they were alone, tangled up in his sheets or hers, or snuggled together on one of their couches. It makes her sigh, and she closes her eyes to briefly break eye contact with him, knowing he is about to convince her exactly why he had to do this despite her reservations. “We have no other choice. I fit the victimology and we can’t risk them killing someone else.”

“What if this was the other way around?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest as she tries to reason with him. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d be fine with me going in there? That you’d be ok with me being used as bait after you’d spent the last few days looking at pictures of bodies of people who looked exactly like me?”

Aaron opens his mouth to disagree with her, but a simple raise of her eyebrows stops him. “No, I wouldn’t be ok. But we have no other choice.”

“I don’t like it.” She repeats, defeat making her voice shake slightly.

Aaron turns to look out of the window of the office they are in, and when the coast is still clear he grabs her hand, running his thumb back and forth over her wrist. “It will be fine, sweetheart.”

Emily nods, the protest that he doesn’t know everything would be fine dying in her throat. All she could do was sit back and watch as he put himself at risk. Her love for him stuffed into a box in her head where no one else could see it, the privilege JJ had of breaking down publicly when Will was in the bank not afforded to her. She squeezes his hand back, and wishes more than anything that she could kiss him.

“If anything happens to you, even just a scratch, I’m teaching Spencer just enough Italian to piss Dave off.”

That makes him laugh, a brief flash of his dimples settling her nerves in her stomach. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We should get back.” Emily says, extracting her hand from his. She grasps the lapels of his jacket. “And you’re right, you need to change. You look like a fed.” ____________

Emily keeps staring at the monitor, the CCTV from the bar displayed for the team to watch in the back room they were in. She keeps her eyes on Aaron, her thumbnail in between her teeth, as they waited for any sign that the unsubs were around. That someone besides them was watching him.

“You ok there, princess?” Derek asks, drawing her attention towards him. He is eyeing her curiously. “Worried about the boss?”

She can feel Dave and JJ’s eyes on her too, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth and clears her throat. “I’m just not comfortable with this idea.”

“And why is that? Hotch can hold his own.” He replies, an edge to his voice she doesn’t like.

“It’s because Emily and Hotch are sleeping together.” Spencer says without looking away from the monitors, his eyes still on Aaron.

“What?” Derek asks, snapping his head in Spencer’s direction.

“How the hell did you know, Reid?” Emily says, turning to Spencer. She always figured that it would be Dave who would have figured it out. His meddling tendencies well known.

Spencer turns to look at her, taking his attention off of the CCTV footage. “You’re both happier but trying to hide it. Jack said your name 9 times the last time we were all together, indicating that he is spending more time with you in a personal capacity, and you and Hotch both came to work this morning smelling of the same soap.” He explains, Emily’s blush deepening as he spoke. “Not to mention I saw you kissing in the parking garage last month.”

“You’ve known for a month?” JJ says, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?

Spencer shrugs, looking back at Emily. “I figured they weren’t telling us for a reason.”

“You are a terrible gossip.” Dave says before looking back at Emily. “So how long has this been going on?”

Emily sighs and rolls her eyes, wishing that this wasn’t happening now of all times, that she could at least have Aaron with her for back up.

“6 months.”

“6 months.”

She says at the same time as Spencer. She looks at him again, unable to cover her surprise at the fact he had apparently known all along.

“6 months?” Derek exclaims, genuine surprise on his face. “Why did you keep it from us that long?”

“Guys.” Spencer says, trying to interrupt the conversation but failing.

“We just did, ok?” She says, crossing her arms across her chest. “We were going to tell you.”

“Guys.” Spencer says again, firmer this time interrupting whatever Derek was about to say. They all look at him, varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. “Where is Hotch?”

Emily felt like ice water had been poured over her, fear flooding her veins as her head snapped back towards the screens. Her eyes flicked across each image displayed and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Derek.” She chokes out, her voice not quite sounding like her own.

“Shit.” Derek exclaimed, already striding out of the room, Emily and the rest of the team on his heels. ____________

They find him in the alley behind the bar, two men holding him down as they punch him, one of them managing to kick his ribs. There’s no time to figure it out, no time to wonder how the hell they got Aaron out of the bar in the two minutes they had been distracted.

“FBI.” Derek yells, his gun drawn and pointing at them, local cops right behind him with their guns raised too. The unsubs try to make a break for it, but don’t manage it. Derek being a little too hard with the takedown of one of them.

Emily doesn’t even think about what she does as soon as they are apprehended. She’s naturally drawn to Aaron’s side, helping him sit up.

“What the hell happened?” She asks, wincing as she takes in the blood on his face. His nose was bleeding, and his left eye was already bruising. She cups his face in her hands, thumbs gently moving over tender flesh.

He tries to shy away from her touch, his eyes on JJ and Spencer standing behind her. She turns to look at them and raises an eyebrow, both of them averting their gazes. She turns back to look at Aaron, a shy smile on her face.

“Everyone knows.”

He furrows his brow at her. “How?”

“That’s not important right now.” She says, cupping his face, wiping some of the blood that had gathered at the bottom of his nose away with her sleeve. “What happened? We had our eyes off of you for two minutes and you were gone.”

“I spotted them, they fit the partial profile we had.” He explains, as if it was obvious. “So I followed them.”

“What were you thinking?” She exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder, hard, before grabbing his face again and kissing him. “That was so stupid, Aaron.” She kisses him again.

Emily wraps her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug that makes him wince. She lets go instantly, her hands on his shoulders as she looks him over for any other obvious injuries.

“Shit, sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He gets out, his face screwed up in pain despite his attempt at assuring her. “They just got a few good kicks to my ribs.”

She looks around, sees a paramedic standing back waiting for the scene to be cleared. “We need to get you looked at.”

“Em, I’m fine.” He protests, his breathlessness at the act of standing up giving him away as he pushes himself up off the ground.

She glares at him. “You are not fine, Aaron. You just had the shit kicked out of you by two men who wanted to kill you.” She holds his hand, links her fingers through his and gently tugs him towards where the ambulance is parked. “Let the nice paramedic look at you before I kill you myself.” ____________

He needed to get x-rays done. The paramedic was concerned that his ribs could be broken, and therefore insisted he went to the hospital to get checked out. Aaron tried to talk him out of it. He’d had broken ribs before, and claimed he knew how to handle them, but then he had looked at Emily’s face, how concerned she was, and he stopped resisting.

Emily was sitting nervously next to the gurney he was on whilst they waited for the results of the scans he had on arrival.

“Em.” Aaron says, making her look up at him from the spot she was staring at on the floor. “I’m ok.”

“You’re ok because we found you when we did.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If we’d been only a couple minutes later…”

“But you weren’t.” He reaches out for her hand and she accepts it, fiercely holding his one hand between both of hers. “I’m ok.” He repeats, pulling their joint hands to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

“I love you.” She says, a sad smile on her face as she has to stop herself from looking at the dried blood on his shirt, or at how his eye was now swollen shut. She interrupts him before he can reciprocate, repeat the words back to her that they had only said out loud for the first time a few weeks ago, even though their actions had shown it long before. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger today.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Aaron.” She says, moving so she was sat on the edge of the gurney. She leans down and presses her forehead to his, not caring how ridiculous she would look to anyone who walked in. Her FBI bullet proof vest is still on over her sweater, her gun on her hip. “You can’t do that.” She pulls back to look at him. “You can’t, ok?”

“Em, our jobs are dangerous.”

“I know that.” She replies through slightly gritted teeth. “We both have scars to prove it. But today didn’t need to happen.”

“It was a measured risk.”

“A measured risk that could have cost me you.” She says, her voice finally wavering. “I can’t lose you.” He opens his mouth to talk but she presses a finger to his lips. “And you can’t say that I won’t, love. We both know you can’t promise that. But you don’t have to offer yourself up to unsubs like a lamb to slaughter, ok?”

He clearly disagrees with her, she can see it written all over his face, and on some level she knows she isn’t being reasonable. That the emotion of the day is clouding her judgement, in a way she usually wouldn’t let it. He nods though, presses a kiss to the finger still against his lips and it makes her laugh.

“Ok.” ____________

He has three fractured ribs and several bruised ones. He initially refuses painkillers but Emily convinces him to take them, memories of how painful take off on the jet had been after her beating at the hands of Cyrus all those years ago.

Aaron falls asleep against her. He is sitting slightly slumped in his seat, his head leaning on her shoulder. His breath makes her hair tickle against her neck and it calms her, reminds her that he was still there, that he was still alive.

Emily looks up from her paperwork to the sound of a throat clearing, and she sees Derek sliding into the chair opposite her, a curious look on his face. The team had met them back at the jet. Dave explained that the unsubs were brothers, finding men who reminded them of their father who had all but drank himself to death in that very bar when they were young. It seemed so banal, so stereotypical to Emily it infuriated her.

The team clearly had questions about what they had discovered about her and Aaron, but they were silent about it. Emily wondered how long that would last, if they would at least wait until Aaron could see out of his left eye again before they started asking about their relationship.

“Can the Spanish inquisition wait at least until tomorrow, Derek? I’m tired.” She asks, a quirk to her smile.

He holds his hands up, mock surrender on his face. “I’ll leave it for now, Princess. But if you think for one second that our beloved technical analyst will do the same, you are kidding yourself.”

Emily laughs at that, before groaning. “She’s going to be delighted.” She says, looking briefly at Aaron before looking back at Derek. “She’s been trying to tell me to give this a chance for years.”

“Really?” Derek asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah.” She replies, a smile on her face. “It’s a common topic on ladies night.”

Derek smiles and looks at her curiously. “You love him?”

Emily bites her lip “Yeah.” She nods. “I love him.”

“I’m happy for you, Emily. For both of you.” He stands, heads back to where he had been trying to nap before he had walked over, but he turns back to her. “You owe us all dinner. Somewhere fancy.”

Emily barks out a laugh, briefly disturbing Aaron from his slumber on her shoulder. “Whatever you say, Morgan.” _______________

She takes him back to her place. It was too late to get Jack from Jessica’s, and she figured he’d want some time to prepare his son for his injuries anyway.

He’s pretty out of it from the pain and the medication, but she gets him into her bed, managing to get him down to just his briefs and under her covers. She quickly gets ready for bed herself, forgoing her usual skincare routine with just a swipe of a makeup wipe over her face.

She climbs into bed next to him, careful to put more distance between the two of them than she usually would. She turns the lamp off and settles into her pillows, ready to try and get some sleep.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” He asks, his words thick with sleep.

Emily rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, stroking her fingers over his shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never could.”

Emily suppresses a smile in the darkness. His inhibitions were always lowered at night in one of their bedrooms, his affection for her blowing over her like a warm breeze. “Baby, you have broken ribs.”

“Come here.” He reaches out for her and she moves towards him, not wanting him to hurt himself any further by dragging her across the bed. He shifts, grimacing as he does, and rests his head on her shoulder. “That’s better.”

She laughs. “We can’t sleep like this. It won’t do either of our backs any good.”

“Just 5 minutes.”

“Ok, honey.” She says, kissing the top of his head. “5 minutes.”

“Love you, Emily.”

“I love you, too.”

[sapphirespencer]

Love isn’t Always Ready (Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader)

author’s note: hi! i’m back after my short break :) This one’s long, I’ve been working on it for about a week, so I apologize. i also just started the permanent tag list, leave a note if you’d like to be part of it and if only for specific characters or just the fics in general. 

word count: 2668 

request: yes! (requested by @karmaisabig-bitch​)

“I’m going to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.” Spencer’s hand slips from its hold on your waist as he walks through the aromatic shop.

“I’ll be here, my love.” You mutter, your eyes never leaving the encapsulating pages of the book you had been reading for the week. Lovingly, your boyfriend had taken you out on a late night coffee run, a weekly tradition that you two shared but had sadly missed for the past couple weeks due to the demanding work life you both had. His eyes had been perked up ever since Aaron had told the team that for the next three days, everyone would be on paperwork duty in order to avoid falling behind on records while pursuing new cases. “No plane days”, as Spencer referred to them as, had meant you were both able to get off work at 8pm and he was free to wander over to bookstores with you for the rest of the evening. The night always ended in a late night coffee stop before heading home. And for all of that, No plane days had become his favorite of days.

“Love and Gelato? What’s that about?” Ears perking at the title of your book being said aloud, your head snapped up towards the man behind the counter who was currently working on your order. He was working alone tonight, no coworkers in sight.

“A girl who finds herself moving to Florence after her mother passes, but then begins digging deeper into her mom’s buried past in Italy and why she had insisted that her daughter move there after her death.” Without glancing down at the book, you sneak your old receipt in between the pages you had been reading to mark your place.

“I’m assuming she finds love along her journey?” After scribbling on your cup, he fills it with the bitter liquid before moving on to fill Spencer’s coffee order that had way too much sugar. While nodding you add,

“And Gelato.” 

“Right. Well I’m sure I can try to find us some gelato shops that are open this late, if you’d like.” He laughed, leaving you wondering if he hadn’t noticed the intimacy between you and your boyfriend.

“Sorry, but I’ve already found the love of my journey.” As if on cue, Spencer exited the restroom, kissing your cheek as he approached you. Oblivious to the tension that surrounded the primarily empty cafe, he grabbed both coffee cups from the barista and walked you out of the shop. Unclear of which cup was his, Spencer held them up in front of his eyes for a closer inspection. Scanning past the word “decaf”, which was obviously your order, he noticed a ten digit number tucked under the cup sleeve, with the message “in case you go on a new journey.” Quieting down as if to withdraw himself from the situation, he handed you the cup. Confused about his newfound silence in the middle of his ramble on how dirty public bathrooms really are, you glanced at your coffee cup, which seemed to be the problem. Eyes rolling as you immediately noticed the infuriating message.

“Gosh, that guy couldn’t get a hint. He just couldn’t understand that I’m already with the best guy anyone could ever have.” Your face dulled as Spencer merely hummed at your sentence. He was shutting you out, once again. He always did this when things got tough, or when he was jealous. You didn’t mind having to reassure him of your loyalty to him, he was worth it. But it was painful when he would isolate himself from you, you just wish he could see how you viewed him, then there would be no doubt in his mind that he was beyond incredible. The night you two had waited for, just time to enjoy one another, had gone too far out of reach and heading to bed seemed to be the only thing on Spencer’s mind. You, however, hadn’t gone to sleep at all. Laying in the same bed with one another while clinging onto opposite sides felt as if an ocean had found its way between the two of you. Not being able to bear the weight of his silence, your own mental health already on the rocks, you turned to reading in the study for the remainder of the dreary night.

At some moment you had to have fallen asleep, a book spread out on your chest and no blanket on top of your thin pajamas. Waking up with intense congestion was just the cherry on top of the state of your life. The pressure dwelling inside your body made your head pulse and Spencer’s continuous silence had, for once, made your headache worse. You watched as he crossed from the bedroom to the kitchen, hardly glancing at you as you shivered while reaching for a tissue. Not only was your mind exhausted beyond repair, but so was your body. Cautiously, you slumped over to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen where Spencer was making his coffee, terrified to speak and unable to find the words that would wake him from his trance.

“Spencer, please…” Your voice came out hoarse, and sadly, you had hoped it might possibly drawn him out but you weren’t expecting the harshness of his coffee cup as he slammed it down on the counter. 

“Shut up, just shut up. Gosh, you’re such an attention whore.”

“What? Spence...what are y-”

“Do you not know how to shut up? Just be quiet!” Finally turning to you, the Spencer that stood in front of you was unrecognizable. Terrified to utter another word, you attempted to walk towards him but gripped the edge of the counter as your vision danced, blurring you from reality.

“Now you don’t know how to walk? That’s funny, apparently you don’t know how to do anything...oh except knowing how to be a fucking slut.” It was now your time to be furious. The way he was behaving was reckless and unfamiliar, he had shunned you into silence and you were having trouble finding your voice again.

“That’s enough. Spencer, I understand that you’re upset about last night, but you need to know that I made it clear to the barista that I was with you. Gosh Spencer, I love you. I love you and I know you love me, so please, let’s talk about this before you take it too far.”

“I don’t, you’re wrong.” 

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t love you. I never did and I never fucking will.” You laughed bitterly. He had to be joking with you. It had to be some sort of dark humor, it had to be.

“It was a mistake that I ever thought I loved you” thought. thought?

“...You thought you loved me?” It wasn’t a joke. It’s not a joke. 

“Yeah, and i’m glad it was just that. A fragment of my imagination.” He spat out. All those words, all those names, he meant them. He meant it when he said you were a whore, that’s how he saw you. 

“Hotch is expecting me.”

“I’m here!” You called out as you entered the Hotchner residence, eyes searching for a living person.

“And you’re early.” Aaron walked out of his bedroom and crossed over to his kitchen. Letting yourself in, you set your keys and bag down as you shut the door behind you.

“I just wanted to see my favorite boss and honorary father ever.” You cheered in the perkiest voice you could manage.

“Your overnight bag and overall appearance say otherwise. You look like shit.” He called from the kitchen

“Gee, thanks dad. I stayed up reading...and Spencer-” Setting yourself down on the couch, your brain ran through excuses for the overnight bag.

“Save it, Y/N. I can tell when you’re lying.” Walking into the room with two coffee mugs in hand, Aaron sat in the armchair across from you. Handing you a coffee cup, he sipped on his drink, waiting for you to speak up.

“Hotch, I’m fine.” You muttered out, eyes focused on the liquid in the mug.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” 

“Spencer...We, um...We got in a fight. A bad one, and...things were said. Things that we might not bounce back from.” Not daring to look at the fatherly figure, your eyes trained on the dark liquid.

“What? What was said?”

“Hotch, it was nothing. Spencer just got jealous of this barista when we were in the coffee shop, even though I told the guy I was with someone and Spencer just shut off. No talking, only a muttered goodnight before he fell asleep. I couldn’t just lie in that bed with all things considered so I went to the study and at some point, fell asleep. I woke up feeling crappy and sick, hence my appearance, but I thought maybe he’d finally talk to me. He’s always there for me when I’m sick, but he just...he...Spencer…” Trailing off, your thumb rubbed over the mug handle, eyes still narrowed in on it.

“What did he do, y/n?” Leaning forward in his chair, Aaron stared at you.

“He blew up…” Tears spilling from your eyes, you finally met his eyes. The sight nearly broke his heart. “You know Spence, he bottles stuff up and then he just...blows up. He called me a couple of things. Things I would never think Spencer would ever say. Attention whore...slut.” Shaking your head, a sad smile spreads across your face.

“Y/n…” Aaron starts

“Oh no, that’s not the best part though. The fucking climax of it all was when he told me that he regrets ever thinking he was in love with me. He said he ‘thought’ he was in love with me...fucking thought.” Laughing bitterly, the words spat out of your mouth.

“I’m cancelling tonight. We’ll stay in with Jack and watch some movies, okay? And yes, I'm sure.” Jumping up to reach for his phone, the man hardly waits for an answer as you nod between silent sobs.

“Are you sure? It’s still not too late to go back, I’m sure Jack would love to spend the day with you.” Before opening the door to his office, Aaron looks back at you, hesitant about your appearance at work today.

“I’m sure. Trust me, I’m not mad at him anymore. Now let’s go, everyone’s waiting to be briefed.” Smoothing your shirt down, you wait for Hotch to open the door and let you out. Spencer’s eyes had darted up at you the minute you walked into the room, almost as if he was waiting for you. Taking your seat between Penelope and Emily, you watched as his facial expressions changed to the ones he had reserved strictly for work, he didn’t care. Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was watching him too.

The case had been an open and shut one, not lasting more than 12 hours, but the aftermath of the fight between you and Spencer had still been ongoing. If it hadn’t already thrown you and Spencer insane, it sure had done so to Aaron. Throughout the case, anger had begun to consume him as he noticed Spencer’s avoidance and ignorance. When the team had returned to headquarters, a furious Aaron pulled Spencer into his office.

“Reid, what are you doing?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hotch.”

“Spencer, you know what you said and if you’re telling me that you have no ounce of guilt in your body for that, I would have to say that I never thought you could be so ignorant.” Loosening his tie, Aaron sat down in his chair, the tall shame-filled man standing in front of him.

“I know...I know what I said and I hate myself for it. I just… I don’t know what to say.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find the words, just go find y/n before it’s too late.” 

As you grabbed your stuff and got ready to go out with the team for dinner, you noticed Spencer approach you and stand next to your desk, waiting for you to lift your head.

“Hey, do you need something?” Looking up at him, you caught the flash of a familiar glow in his eyes that you had grown to love. He finally looked like himself and you wanted nothing more to wrap yourself in his embrace but as you had come to realize, it wouldn’t be fair to the both of you.

“Um...yeah, can...can we go talk somewhere? In...in private maybe?” Hands fidgeting, the nervous man looked around before gesturing for you to walk with him. Silently, the both of you made your way to an empty office that wasn’t being used. Being people who both found comfort out of sitting on the floor, the two of you sat cross-legged on the carpet, waiting for the other to speak.

“Y/N…what I said yesterday, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of it, every word. You’re not any of those things I said. I…gosh! I can’t believe I even dared to say anything like that, and to you of all people. I love you, so much. I never doubted my love for you…ever. If I did have any doubts, it was in myself. Doubts that I’d ever be good enough for you. And I know that it doesn’t excuse anything I said but I love you and I am so terribly sorry that I let my insecurities get in the way of showing it.”

“Spence...it’s okay, it’s alright. I...I forgive you.”

“But...why? I mean, how...how can you forgive me for what I said?”

“I can’t blame you for it. I can’t hold this love...this, this detached love against you. It’s not your fault that you can’t give me your love right now.”

“But I’m... I’m in love with you, I was just…”

“…Not ready. Your love…” Slightly, you shake your head at the poor choice of the noun, desperately searching for the right one to correct it, “…our love, wasn’t ready and I can’t blame you for that.”

“I was just feeling insecure and inferior. What I said doesn’t m-“ You placed your hands on top of his, the feeling stopping his train of thought as you had hope it would. Gently, you retracted your touch, not wanting to make this anymore painful for the both of you.

“You wouldn’t have spoken the words you said unless you meant it, Spence.” 

“Please…” It was a whimper, one that could’ve been mistakenly taken as if it was uttered by a child who was pleading for sweets, but all it sounded like to your ears was pure heartbreak.

“Maybe our love will be ready someday, and I hope it will. It’s just not prepared yet.”

“I don’t want to lose you. I…I can’t lose you.” You watched as tears pool into your love’s eyes. It was tragically beautiful how they glittered over his coffee colored irises while his pupils contracted, before tears slowly escaped from the eye socket that was encasing them.

“Hey… I’m not leaving, Spencer. I’m here, not in the way I used to be, but I will always be here for you.” Reaching up to cup his cheek, you tucked the single curl that had fallen in front of those tired eyes back behind his ear while your thumb brushed back a stray tear that stained that perfectly imperfect face of his. Melting into your hand, Spencer drags his own hand up to gently grasp your wrist, provoking a barely audible gasp from you as your body begged for more. Not wanting to tear apart from him, you pushed your forehead to meet his own. A little more pain was worth being in his arms again. Burning tears free falling from both of the tightly shut pairs of eyes in the cramped and poorly lit office you were both sitting on the floor of.

permanent taglist: @averyhotchner​

[boldlyvoid]

someone bully me into finishing my hotch x reader dirty dancing fic

[fanfics4all]

Angels, Demons

Request: Yes / No  can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 please?? Anon

Requests are open, but please read this! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6009

Warnings: Spencer getting shot, reader getting shot, criminal minds stuff, ya know the drill. 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your NickName

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“So, we get Henry to bed, and, you know, we’re about to finally have some alone time with Mommy and Daddy, and… you guys know the rest.” JJ said while rolling her eyes. Spencer walked up to us along with Alex and I smiled at him. Spencer and I have been dating for a few years now and he was the love of my life. 

“Ah, trying to dust off the old cobwebs.” Morgan said with a smirk. 

“Inappropriate!” Garcia whisper-yelled and smacked him in the arm. 

“What?” He asked with a laugh. 

“Seriously, though, how long has it been?” She asked. 

“Too long.” JJ said with the most serious face I’ve seen. 

“Do we know what the case is?” Alex asked, changing the subject. 

“Not yet.” I answered. 

“Hotch just said to drop everything and get back here.” Rossi said. 

“You need some private adult time.” Garcia said. 

“Spencer and I can watch Henry for you guys if you want.” I offered, Spencer nodded in agreement. 

“You two should go to Mexico. Or the Maldives, maybe.” Garcia said. 

“Cruz?” JJ asked looking behind us. 

“Yes! Exactly. A cruise would be perfect.” Garcia said. 

“No, no, no. Matt Cruz.” She said motioning behind us. We all looked behind and saw Cruz and Hotch walking towards the round table room. 

“Let’s get started.” Hotch said. We all got up and followed. We got int the room before them and sat down quickly. 

“How are those ribs?” Cruz asked JJ. 

“Still hurts when I laugh. You?” She asked. 

“The scars impress the ladies.” He said. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Ms. Garcia, but I took the liberty of having the much less talented version of you in my office load the case details.” He said taking the remote from Garcia. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, no problem.” She said and sat down. 

“A good friend of mine, Sheriff Peter Coleman, down in Briscoe County, Texas, reached out to me about a possible case. He’s a former Texas ranger, he’s a good guy.” Cruz said. 

“He read about our work on the Silencer case two years ago. He asked for a consult.” Hotch said. 

“What do we have?” Alex asked. 

“Abigail Jones. Prostitute. She was found in a dumpster last night.” He said. 

“What’s that on her wrists?” I asked. 

“It’s, uh… it’s…” Cruz said while having trouble with the remote. 

“Uh, would you mind?” He asked Garcia. 

“Thank you, Jesus, Buddha, and Allah.” Garcia said quickly, taking the remote from him and standing up. 

“I like to cover my bases. You have to squeeze it.” She said and the pictures zoomed in. 

“Rope burns.” Rossi said. 

“Which goes hand in hand with the lacerations on her back.” Cruz said. 

“There’s also a gunshot wound to the back of her head, execution style.” JJ said. 

“It’s a conflict in M.O. The cutting and restraints points to sexual sadism, but the gunshot wound ends the torture too quickly for a sadist.” Spencer said. 

“Is she the only victim?” I asked. 

“There;s Hannah Kelly, another prostitute, killed six months ago, dumped one jurisdiction over.” Cruz said. 

“Forensic countermeasure. Smart enough to separate the victims so we won’t tie them together.” Alex said. 

“And practical, too. The body was left in hooker row, where they pick up their johns, which brings us to our first victim, Lucas Wagner. Killed eleven months ago. Multiple arrests for soliciting a prostitute. He was found outside of a crack house where some of them lived.” Cruz said. 

“He takes a paying customer and drops them where the girls live. That sends a message that nobody’s safe.” Morgan said. 

“Tell Sheriff Coleman we’re on our way.” Hotch told Cruz and we started collecting our things. We all got our go-bags and hopped onto the jet. We all were looking through the case files. 

“Ballistics matched one gun to all three shootings. So, the same unsub killed one John and two prostitutes.” JJ said. 

“At least he keeps it in the family.” Rossi said. 

“Maybe the John was a friend of the unsub, someone he picked up prostitutes with.” Alex said. 

“Well, once he kills his friend, it makes it easier to kill the prostitutes.” Morgan said. 

“That would explain why there’s no sexual assault on the victims. It’s not about rape for this unsub, it’s about toture.” Spencer said. 

“I mean, that fits, kind of, but it just feels like we’re missing something.” I said with a sigh. 

“What we’re missing is whether this guy’s a sadist or not. A gunshot to the back of the head throws everything off.” Rossi said. 

“We’re presuming he’s using the gun to end things, but it could be part of the psychological toture.” Hotch said. 

“I’m gonna cut you, and if you flinch, bang.” Spencer said. 

“Okay, so let’s go with that for a second. There were five cuts on Lucas Wagner, nine on Hannah, twelve on Abigail. He’s escalating his torture. Sadists definitely do that.” I said. 

“And they get deeper with each victim.” Alex added. 

“That’s right. The first cuts were experimental in nature, and the latter ones were about maximum infliction of pain.” Spencer said. 

“What if this is vigilantism? He’s punishing theses woman and their Johns to clean up the streets.” Rossi suggested. 

“But then why take so long to do it? Three victims in eleven months? That’s a substantial cooling-off period.” I said. 

“Y/N, Morgan, and Reid talk to anyone working the streets last night and see if they saw something useful. Dave and Blake, go to the coroner’s office, see what you can learn there, and JJ and I will go to the station with the Sheriff and start interviewing friends and family.” Hotch ordered. When we landed we settled in and immediately got out in the field. Morgan, Spencer, and I went to the station with the rest of the team first and we had an officer come with us. 

“Not too many spots for working girls to go to, so this’ll be your best shot.” He said as we got out of the car. 

“And you turn a blind eye to what goes on in here?” Spencer asked. 

“Agent, we only got one bar around here. Monday night’s karaoke, Tuesday’s line dancing, and the girls are discreet. Can hardly tell the professionals from the locals who just want to get their drink on. Not to mention, we shut this place down, then what?” He answered. 

“The devil you know kind of thing.” Morgan said. 

“Exactly.” The officer said. We walked into the bar and just about all eyes were on us. 

“Deputy.” The woman at the bar greeted. 

“Dinah, these three are agents from the FBI. You mind answering some questions?” He asked her. 

“Don’t know much, but sure.” She answered. 

“We’re trying to find out more about a woman named Abigail Jones. Did you know her?” Spencer asked placing her photo on the bar. 

“Why ya’ll askin’ about Abby?” A man at the bar asked. 

“When was the last time you saw her?” Spencer asked. 

“Last week. Same bat time, same bat station. She’s alright, ain’t she?” He asked. 

“No, actually, she was killed a couple of nights ago…” I answered. 

“Killed? God almighty.” He said.

“How well did you know her?” I asked. 

“Used to flirt. You know. She always said I couldn’t handle her. She was right. So I’d buy her drinks. She liked when I buy her drinks.” He answered. 

“Was she that kind of girl? Party girl, maybe?” Morgan asked. 

“It was hard to tell when she was loaded or not. I mean, she was always off. Like she had her own song goin’ on in her head.” Dinah answered. 

“Mack the knife.” The blonde girl on the other side of the bar said and we all looked at her. 

“Let me ask you, did Abigail come in often? Was she a regular customer?” Spencer asked as I walked over to the girl. 

“What was that?” I asked. 

“Mack the knife.” She said with a sigh. 

“Was that the song in her head?” I asked confused. 

“No. it was the name of her last… date. You know what I mean?” She answered. 

“I do. Have you ever met Mack the knife?” I asked. 

“No. She told me about him, said he was a good tipper.” She said. 

“Do you know where we might find him?” I asked. She started shaking and I looked over Dinah who was staring at us. 

“Would you prefer if we chat privately?” I asked quietly. 

“I can’t.” She said. 

“Okay.” I said and sat down next to her. 

“Why don’t we just talk then, you don’t have to look at me. Don’t move your head, just keep looking down.” I said quietly and took my card out. 

“I’m just trying to flirt with a pretty girl. And if you don’t mind, could you lean over and take this card from me?” I asked. She leaned over and took it from me. 

“See? I’m not so bad.” I said with a small laugh. 

“Come on, we’re just talking, having some fun, right?” I asked with a smile. 

“Why don’t you show me that pretty smile of yours. And smack me on my shoulder, like maybe I’m trying to get fresh or something, huh?” I said trying to instruct her what to do. 

“No? Yeah? Yeah?” I said with a raise of my brow as she shoved me a little bit. 

“Dirty girl, you wish.” She said with a flirty laugh. 

“Alright, well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. Especially when a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone.” I said and she gave a little giggle. 

“It was nice to meet you.” I said with a smile and got up to return to the boys. 

“One last question. Do either of these two people look familiar to you?” Morgan asked as Spencer placed the pictures. 

“The boy looks familiar. Girl I’ve never seen.” Dinah said, shaking her head. 

“Well, thank you for your time. Would you mind if we came back a little later?” Spencer asked, collecting the photos. 

“Oh, anytime. Got nothin’ to hide.” She answered and we went to leave. 

“Sorry I couldn’t help you none.” She added as we left. We called Hotch and JJ, telling them about what we found out. 

The next day we got a call about another victim. All of us got our coffee and started the day. Spencer, Rossi ,and I went to where the body was. We pulled up and they were about to cut the body down. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing!?” Spencer shouted, stopping them. 

“Do not disturb the crime scene.” The Sheriff that came with us said. 

“We took a bunch of pictures just like you ordered.” The other cop said. 

“I ordered you not to touch a damn thing.” He said. 

“We need to look at the crime scene undisturbed. Do you mind not standing there?” I said. 

“He’s escalated his cuts. They’re not only bigger-”

“Cutting was done postmortem. It was the gunshot that killed her.” Spencer said, cutting Rossi off. 

“How can you tell?” An officer asked. 

“Uh, based on the lack of blood flow and scar tissue. If she were alive when this was done, there would be a lot more blood on her back.” Spencer answered. 

“Which means this wasn’t S&M. This was symbolic.” I said. 

“Symbolic of what?” The Sheriff asked. 

“We’re not sure.” Rossi said. 

“Can you guys smell that?” Spencer asked.  

“Lavender.” Rossi said. 

“That doesn’t grow in these parts.” The officer said. 

“It’s mainly around her legs.” Spencer said. 

“Why would he do that?” He asked. 

“Reid, can you look into it? We can’t trust the coroner to follow through.” Rossi said. 

“Yeah.” Spencer said getting up. 

“I can help.” I said following behind him. 

Spencer and I checked out the information, then joined the team to give the profile. Once we were set up we gathered everyone up and was ready to tell them what we’ve learned. 

“We believe the unsub we’re looking for is a white male in his early 30’s. While his M.O. is that of a sadist, we think there’s an underlying pathology of what we call a wound collector.” Hotch said. 

“What’s that?” One of the officers asked. 

“A wound collector is someone who uses a lifetime of sleights, grievance, and wrongs as justification for violence.” Spencer said. 

“Examples can be as large-scale as Hitler scapegoating the jews for the Holocaust, or as common as an abusive husband blaming his wife as an excuse to beat her.” I explained. 

“This unsub is low key, almost submissive in public. He has to be to attract the prostitutes.” Rossi said. 

“But his real nature will be revealed in the safety of isolation. This is the type of man who would anonymously express himself online by raging against how these women are filled with disease and filth, how they deserve what’s coming to them, probably to cover for the rejection of a woman or spouse who’s wronged him.” Spencer said. 

“Which means the unsub probably has a working-class or part-time job. It gives him the time to plan and execute the murders.” JJ said. 

“He’s strong and good with his hands and probably drives a work truck or large vehicle.” Rossi said. 

“This allows him to move the bodies and carry the tools for posing his victims.” Alex said. 

“Tabitha Ryerson tells us he’s losing control. He killed her in her home and then transported her body to the woods so he could mutilate her postmortem. The public nature of the display was a message.” Morgan said. 

“To who?” An officer asked. 

“To us. This is a small town and he knows the FBI is here investigating his crimes. He thinks that he’s showing us that he’s smarter than we are.” I answered. 

“He’s also showing us his wounds. There’s part of him that wants us to stop and punish him for his crimes.” Hotch said as his phone rang. 

“Thank you. Excuse me.” He said answering and walking off. The meeting was now dismissed and we all went off to do our own thing. 

Currently Alex and Rossi were interviewing a man they called Mack the knife. However, it turned out it wasn’t our guy. Spencer and I were still looking into the lavender while all this was going on. 

“I think we got it!” He said, turning to me. 

“What is it?” I asked and he showed me a book. 

“Let’s go tell the team.” I smiled and we walked over to the others. Hotch was talking to one of the victim's sisters when he looked over at us. He came over and Spencer was ready to rattle off the information we found. 

“Guys, I think we know what the lavender on Tabitha Ryerson’s legs is about. Have you ever heard of spikenard?” He asked. 

“Uh, no.” One of the officers answered. 

“It’s perfume. It’s mentioned in the gospels.” Hotch answered. 

“Yes! It’s derived from lavender. It’s what Mary Magdalene used to wash jesus’ feet, which tells us that this unsub’s message is obviously religious in nature.” I said. 

“Preacher Mills, maybe. He came forward to volunteer information.” Morgan said. 

“Well, yesterday he said he’d let us know if he had any more information, but apparently he’s changed his mind.” Hotch said. 

“He fits the profile. He’s morally rigorous, submissive in public.” JJ said. 

“So we’ll put an APB out for him.” One of the cops said with a nod. 

Spencer and Morgan went to the church to see if he might be there. I was here with the rest of the team trying to figure out where he could be, if he wasn’t there. 

“Well I don’t get it, if the preacher had something to do with it, then why was he so helpful?” An officer asked. 

“Unsubs insert themselves into investigations all the time. They enjoy the power and the feeling that they’re smarter than us.” Alex answered. 

“And to keep tabs on the case. He wanted to know how close we were to catching him.” Hotch added and I heard my phone ring. 

“Hey Garcia, whatcha got?” I answered and put her on speaker. 

“I got the backhoe going into the not-so-clean preacher. I haven’t found his present whereabouts yet, but I’m looking at his bank account and I can tell you he doesn’t adhere to the “give all your money to the poor” model.” She said. 

“Any idea where the money’s coming from?” Hotch asked. 

“Not yet. But it’s mostly cash, and we’re talking six figures big.” She answered. 

“You know, maybe it’s sex trafficking. This unsub is able to get prostitutes to let their guard down. They’re somebody he knows.” Alex said. 

“I thought you said our killer was a John.” An officer said. 

“Prostitutes would rat out a JOhn or kill him themselves, but they’d never go against their own pimp.” I said. 

“Garcia, take everything we know about Mills and run it up against pandering and procuring charges. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.” Hotch said. 

“You got it.” She said. She hung up and called us back when she had more information. 

“Did you know the charge of being a pimp, when gussied up, is “procuring and pandering”? And Hotch was right. Preacher Mills is familiar with this charge. Because before he was Justin Mills, he was Gordon Borell, and he was arrested for cutting one of the ladies he employed.” She said. 

“Where did he cut her?” Rossi asked. 

“On the back. When questioned, she said- oh, I’m gonna have to look at kitten videos after this- He was marking his property.” She said. 

“You’re kidding.” The Sheriff said. 

“That’s why he specifically asked me about the wounds on Lucas Wagner. He knew we’d find out about his past.” Hotch said. 

“Hey, Garcia? Why didn’t we find this out until now?” I asked. 

“Because he changed his name when he crossed the border. The Northern border to be exact. Mr. Mill, Nee borell, is from Tees, Alberta. I’ll tell you what those Canadians, They seem so sweet and innocent, but when they go back, they go Darth Vader bad.” She said and I shook my head. I decided it wasn’t the right time to tell her that Darth Vader turned to save his son’s life. 

“So he came here to start over, took on the mantle of the collar as the perfect cover for the sex trade.” Rossi said. 

“No one in this town would question a man of God. But now we got the smoking gun we need on this guy.” The Sheriff said. 

“Garcia, was there an attempted murder charge?” Hotch asked. 

“No. In fact, she said he wanted her to go back out and start working when he was done cutting her.” She answered. 

“He’s not our unsub.” Hotch said. 

We hung up with Garcia and went back to the rest of the team, now that Spencer and Morgan were back. 

“This guy fits to a T. How can we rule him out?” The Sheriff asked. 

“Criminally, pimps follow the same behavioral pattern as drug dealers.” I said with a shrug. 

“Prostitutes are his revenue stream.” JJ said. 

“He would only kill them as a last resort.” Spencer said. 

“Which is why the cutting in Canada was a punishment, not a religious punishment, but a punishment for not doing their jobs.” Alex said. 

“Then he comes here to start over, set up a new shop.” Morgan said. 

“And that’s when somebody found out about his past, used it as a forensic countermeasure to throw us off track by framing him.” I said. 

“That’s why the gir;s kept saying, “They’re” after us. There wasn’t a team of unsubs, but one sadist copying the behavior of another.” Hotch said.

“It would also explain the change with Tabitha, the escalation, the perfume on the feet.” Spencer said. 

“But you said the unsub wanted us to catch him and punish him.” The Sheriff said. 

“What he really wanted was for us to catch the preacher.” Rossi said. 

“So whoever this guy is, he’s fooled all of us, and now we got nothin’ when it comes to the profile.” The Sheriff said. 

“No, that’s not true. The unsub chose Mills for a reason, and Mills can still lead us to the unsub. We’ll have Agent Morgan and the deputies start at his house.” Hotch said and off they went.  We were all trying to figure out where the preacher could be going. So far, nothing. 

“Repeat, I’ve got the suspect headed into El Lobito’s diner.” An officer over the radio said, which made my ears perk up. 

“Copy, Deputy. We’re on our way.” The Sheriff said to her. 

“We got him.” He said walking up to us. 

“Alright, Blake, Reid, and Y/L/N go with the Sheriff. Dave and I will coordinate the response here.” Hotch ordered and we nodded. We followed behind the Sheriff and got on our way. 

“The preacher’s not answering.” Spencer said as we were on our way. 

“Keep trying, we need to tell him we know he didn’t do this.” Alex said and Spencer went back to calling. Still no answer. 

“He’s been in there a good five minutes now. I haven’t seen any movement yet.” The officer that was at the scene already said as soon as we got out. 

“What about patrons?” I asked. 

“Uh, it’s closed.” She answered. 

“How many entrances?” Alex asked. 

“Uh, two it looks like.” She answered. 

“The question is, is he alone?” Spencer asked. 

“Guys, I’ve got movement. We should move in now, Sheriff.” Another officer said. 

“Actually, we’re better off establishing the perimeter first. We need to open up and line of communication.” Spencer said. 

“Alright, agreed. We need to get around to the-” The Sheriff started, but was cut off by a gunshot, he was down. 

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” One of the officers shouted and we all got down. They started shooting at the window trying to hit the preacher. I saw the Sheriff still alive not far from us and I went to try and pull him to us. The preacher started shooting wherever he could and I was in his line of fire, but I couldn’t just leave the Sheriff there. 

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted and ran out to try and pull me back. 

“Reid!” I heard Morgan shout and I looked back to see Spencer on the ground. I dropped the Sheriff and quickly went to Spencer’s side. 

“Spencer! Spencer!” I shouted, but he was out of it. Morgan ran up and pulled him back. I went with him while JJ and Alex went to try and help the Sheriff. Morgan rested Spencer against a car and I kneeled down next to him. He had been shot in the neck. 

“Spencer, baby, I’m right here.” I whispered. 

“Y/N! We’re going in, you stay with him!” Morgan called and I nodded. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby, the ambulance is on their way.” I whispered. I saw his eyes open for a second and he looked at something, but I was too focused on him to drag my attention away. His eyes shut once again and I was beginning to panic. 

“Hurry! Please!” I shouted. Alex came beside me and looked at him. 

“Ethan! Ethan! You have to keep your eyes open.” She said. She was calling him the wrong name, but now wasn’t the time to correct her. The paramedics finally came and Spencer was being loaded into the ambulance. Alex was on the phone with Cruz as I stared at Spencer, worried and scared. 

“Y/N you should go in the ambulance with him.” JJ said walking up to us, along with Morgan. I just nodded and quickly got in with him, Morgan was joining us since he was a little banged up too. 

“The sound is like a tea kettle. Do you hear it?” Spencer asked with a slight slur. 

“What? Reid.” Morgan asked. 

“Pressure’s dropping.” One of the paramedics said and I swear my heart leaped out of my chest. 

“Pulse is thready. Starting large-bore I.V.” He said. 

“Spencer!” I cried. 

“Reid!” Morgan said worried. 

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.” The woman working on Morgan said to him. 

“You gotta help him, man.” Morgan said to the guy. 

“Spencer, please, you’re stronger than this.” I said gently holding his hand. 

“Stay with us, we’re right here.” Morgan said to him. 

“Spencer, please, stay with us.” I begged. 

We finally made it to the hospital and they took him in right away. I had done to the bathroom to wash my hands and when I came out JJ was there with Alex. 

“Anything yet?” She asked and I shook my head. I took a seat near them and tried to hold back my tears. 

“Spencer would have read like two books by now, maybe three.” JJ said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It should have been me…” I whispered. 

“Or me, or any of us.” JJ said. 

“No. He pushed me out of the way…” I said with tears in my eyes. 

“If he doesn’t make it…” I started, but couldn’t bring myself to finish my sentence. The tears finally falling. 

“He’ll make it.” JJ said. 

“He has to.” Alex said. Garcia walked in and saw us. 

“Hey.” She said walking over and coming to give me a hug. 

“You made it.” JJ said. 

“Yeah, turns out we’re not the only ones connected, he knows somebody with a plane.” She said, trying to keep the mood light. 

“How is he?” She asked. 

“Still in surgery.” Alex answered with a sigh. 

“You all can see Agent Morgan now.” A nurse said to us. 

“If you guys don’t mind, I’d really like to stay here…” I said looking down at my hands. 

“The second you hear anything, call us.” JJ said and I nodded. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” Garcia said and I nodded with a sad smile. 

I’m not sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. All the negative thoughts were running through my head and I couldn’t stop them. 

“Agent.” Someone said and I looked up to see a doctor.

“How is he?” I asked standing up. 

“Incredibly lucky. Two millimeters to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we’ve stopped the bleeding. You can see him now.” He said and it felt like I could breathe again. I grabbed his things that they gave me and quickly called JJ. 

“Hey, how is he?” She asked. 

“He’s alive. I’m going to see him now.” I said. 

“Great. Okay, thanks Y/N.” She said and hung up. Garcia had met up with me in his room and she was setting up little Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“It’ll be so great if he wakes up and this is the first thing he sees.” She said. 

“Yeah… The Doctor always makes him smile.” I said with a sad smile.

“It’d be really weird if he wakes up and we’re all just oooh starting at him.” She said, which made me actually laugh a little bit. 

“So, I’m gonna go stand over here.” She said and moved to the window. I gently grabbed his hand and sighed. Garcia had went to go get him some food for when he wakes up. 

“Y/N?” He asked and I looked up to see him awake and I smiled. 

“Spencer! You’re alright.” I said and he looked at the Doctor Who figures in front of him. 

“Garcia.” I said before he could ask. He chuckled and I moved to sit at the edge of his bed. 

“When this comes off, I’m gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” He said and I chuckled a bit. 

“A little green makeup and it’ll be the best Halloween costume ever. And I could always go as the Bride of Frankenstein.” I said and he chuckled. 

“You’d look very cute.” He said and closed his eyes. 

“Hey, everyone is fine, don’t worry.” I said gently squeezing his hand. 

“I’m not.” He said with a small smile. 

“Then what is it?” I asked, but before he could answer Garcia walked in. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” She said with a smile. 

“Look who’s still awake. Can you tell her she can go now, please?” Garcia asked him and motioned her head at me. 

“I’m okay, Y/N. Go help the team.” He said. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to leave him… 

“Are you sure?” I asked and he nodded with a smile. 

“They need you, you have to be my fill in.” He joked. 

“Fine.” I chuckled. 

“I love you.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I love you too, now go.” He said and I nodded. 

“Call me if anything changes.” I said to Garcia and she nodded. 

I made my way back to the station. I was kind of in the dark about what was going on. 

“Hey, how’s Dr. Reid?” One of the officers asked as I walked in. 

“He’s awake, he’s gonna be fine.” I answered and made my way to the team.

“That’s good to hear.” He said.  

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Let’s take a car ride. I’ll fill you in.” Rossi said in a quiet voice. 

“JJ, send us the info.” He added as he got up, along with Alex. 

“Will do.” She whispered. The three of us left. 

Apparently Dianh had a son that was being used against her. The cops were corrupt. Luckily we had a suspect so hopefully everything would work out. Rossi and Alex were in the front talking, but I couldn’t seem to pay attention. My mind kept drifting back to Spencer. 

“What the hell?” I heard Rossi say, which snapped me back into reality. They were looking in the mirrors and I looked back to see two cop cars following us. They turned their sirens on and trapped us between them. 

“I thought you said it doesn’t get any worse.” Alex said.

“Until it does.” Rossi said. The two officers got out with their hands on their guns and we just watched in shock. 

“Are they really gonna shoot Federal Agents?” I asked. 

“They’re cops who’d rather die than get locked up. They’re desperate.” Rossi said. 

“She’s coming to you.” He said to Alex.

“Don’t they know they’re outnumbered?” I asked. 

“I don’t think they care.” Alex said as we all pulled out our guns. 

“Let’s roll.” Rossi said. We started shooting and just rolled through them. I was hit in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything too bad. I could deal with it for a few hours if needed. I moved to the front with Rossi while Alex sat in the back with Dianh’s kid and her Mother. 

“You alright kid?” Rossi asked me. 

“I’ll be fine for a few hours, let’s get them to the safe house, then we can deal with me after.” I said and they nodded., We got them to the safehouse and the rest met us there with Dianh. 

“Let’s go, you two drop Y/N off at the hospital then meet us at the junkyard.” Hotch said and Rossi and Alex nodded. 

“I’m fine Hotch.” I said and he shook his head. 

“I’m not letting you go with a bullet wound.” He said and I sighed. Probably a good idea. They dropped me off at the hospital and I was getting treated. As soon as I was done they said I was free to go and I decided to just go see Spencer. 

“Hey, you guys okay?” I asked. 

“What happened to you?” Garcia asked. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” I said and smiled at Spencer sleeping. 

Finally the case was over and we could all go home. When we got off the plane Alex offered to help us home. We knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. We were walking upstairs to our apartment and it felt so good to be home again. 

“You sure you guys are okay?” She asked. 

“I feel great.” Spencer answered and I nodded in agreement. 

“Ah, that’s overselling it.” He said and I giggled. 

“I, uh, I feel great considering I just got shot in the neck.” He said as we reached the top of the stairs. 

“Sounds about right.” I said. Spencer opened the door and Alex followed us in. 

“Where do you want this?” She asked referring to our bags that she refused to let us carry. 

“Right there is fine.” I said pointing to the couch. 

“Okay, so, you two should get some sleep.” She said. 

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked. 

“Yesterday touched a nerve when I saw you like that.” She said. 

“Who’s Ethan?” I asked. 

“My son.” She answered and my eyes widened slightly. 

“He was nine when he died. Doctors said it was neurological, but they didn’t have a name for it. Still don’t. That drove me crazy, no word to put to this thing that took away my greatest love.” She said and my heart hurt for her. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer said. 

“He kept growing despite his disease. The last time I laid beside him, he was almost as long as me. He was ready to go, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I begged him to open his eyes. And the cruelest part was that I could see who he would be at twenty, but I knew he’d never get there.” She said. 

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” I whispered. 

“Ethan’s a great name.” Spencer said which made her smile. 

“Yeah. It means enduring.” She said. 

“It’s fitting.” I said. 

“You and James never let go of one another.” Spencer said and she smiled. She made her way to the door, but Spencer stopped her. 

“Have you ever had that feeling that your future is somehow behind you?” He asked and I looked at him confused. 

“All the time.” She answered with a nod. 

“I did, too. But it isn’t.” He said and I smiled at him. 

“Ethan would have been a lot like you.” She said and left. 

“Bye Alex.” He said and I knew it was the final goodbye. She wasn’t going to be a part of us anymore. I pulled Spencer in for a hug and he held me tightly. 

“I really thought my future was behind me, until I met you.” He said and kissed my head. 

“I know.” I whispered and smiled up at him. He pulled away and walked over to his bag. He pulled out a small box and turned back to me. He got down on one knee and my eyes widened. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you with all my heart and you’ve helped me so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” He asked and a few tears fell down my cheek. 

“Yes! A million times yes! I love you so much Spencer.” I said and leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back with a laugh and placed the perfect ring on my finger. I looked at the ring and it was simple gold with small diamonds around the outside. The band itself was like a vine and it was perfect. 

“This is amazing Spencer.” I whispered and he smiled. 

“I thought you’d love it.” He said and I smiled up at him. 

“We should probably get some sleep now.” I whispered and he nodded. 

“Come on, let’s rest up.” He said, pulling me along with him. We got into bed and he held me close. 

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and kissed my head. 

“I love you so much too, Spencer.” I whispered back and smiled. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @pettyjayy​ @reidssmile​ @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @braeleexelizabeth​ @satans-0-spawn​ @emofairygay​

[whump-town]

Aversions

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

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

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

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

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

But actions can speak louder than words.

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

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

Those memories were just weeks ago.

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

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

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

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

He’s too far gone to say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes peel open slowly. Uncoordinated and sluggish he raises his left hand to scratch at the dried blood on the side of his face. His fingers manage to clumsy hook the canal running his nose and he pulls it crooked on his face.

Her voice quiet, afraid any sudden movement from her or too sudden a loud sound, might startle him, she calls his name. “Hotch,” she rises from the chair. She hates how her voice wavers. The shift that takes place between them. Any semblance of friendship they might have must be cast aside because… he’s a material witness and a victim. One that she can set off. One she might break.

Stepping into his field of vision, she can see his shoulders relax. Just having someone else close. Someone he knows. “You…” she’s stuck between Emily and Prentiss. Between her role as his friend and his coworker and even her role as an agent. But he’s always commended her undercover work. She’s got a spark for thinking on her feet. “I’m going to fix the oxygen canal, okay? It’s going to agitate your skin otherwise.”

Through slow, coordinated, and purposeful movements she keeps her hands where his darting bloodshot eyes can see. She hesitates when he sucks in a panicked breath but something in the back of her mind says pausing is only going to make it worse so she pulls the canal into place. Her fingers just hardly graze his cheek but she can still his body flinch at the contact.

And all she can think is fuck.

“That’s better, huh?” Her eyes dart to the heart monitor, uncertain if she’s convinced herself that it’s beating erratically fast or if it’s just a fragment of her mind. More than anything else, she makes herself aware of her body. The way that she moves so as not to startle him or, as she’s quickly putting together, touch him.

She steps back to the side, fully aware of the way that his eyes don’t break away from her. “Get some sleep, boss.” There’s something familiar and light about the way she calls him that and she can only pray that gets them through.

He suspects that he’s finally gone and done it. A part of him is relieved to find that fourteen-year-old Aaron Hotchner, a boy clutching to life with bloodied hands, was so wrong. The flash of heat and the open sting of his father’s belt against his back isn’t what finally makes him snap. Forces and pries his tight hold from reality. It’s nine, precise stab wounds and an awful cocktail of drugs that he can’t see his way out of. That’s what breaks him. Then again, it’s so much more than that.

Derek Morgan. His dark blue shirt fitted tightly over his back, the edge of the back tucked into his black pants. Tight muscles shifting under his skin as he stands with his back facing Hotch. His tattoos, body art Hotch had never really cared to mind, staring back at him now. Those tattoos are the only sensible thing about the world as his body is pulled back down.

He blinks owlishly at JJ. Her cold, tiny hand squeezing his and trying so valiantly to get him to talk to her. A question, something pressing, something important but he can’t…

Garcia with her tear-stained cheeks and the mascara running down her cheeks in pools. She says his name, he doesn’t hear but he sees her mouth form the word. He thinks that she might sit by his side and read. He’s got the faintest in and outs of The Hunger Games plot stuck in his brain.

There’s a fuzzy, half memory of Reid. Even in the present, he’s not sure it’s actually happening. A hallucination, maybe, but as he’s looking the young genius over he’s not sure why he’d hallucinate Reid. Then again, who else is left? There’s this look in his eyes, it makes Hotch feel guilty. Wrong. He doesn’t dwell on that feeling for very long. One sluggish blink later and he’s gone… maybe he was a hallucination.

Somewhere between hugging Jack and Dave standing in the doorway to his room, Hotch feels a very deep, uncomfortable weight settle across his chest. A realization on the tip of his tongue-- he wishes that Foyet had just killed him.

Waking with only the weak light of the hall outside, he realizes that he has no idea how much time has passed. Days or hours or even time. Just that the room is dark and there’s a light glow from the machines behind him. The morphine’s going to kill him. He needs to be more alert but the edges of the world are blurry and he’s already succumbing to the warm sting spreading over his body.

His hips ache and he makes the mistake of shifting. It’s just a small movement, sleepy and hazed he’s not capable of too much more. Still, his body is on fire.

“Careful,” Emily whispers from the dark.

He can see her, out of the very corner of his eye, rustling as she moves out from under the mountain of a blanket and uncurls her legs. He watches, silent, as those legs seem to go on forever. Reality melting into the heat of his body, the flames licking up him. And her touch is the water he so desperately craves but he’s lost his sense. There is no up or down or reprieve from the heat.

“Easy,” she breathes across him, the flames succumbing to her. To her will. “Just breath.”

He’s sinking back under the haze, mouth full of cotton and jaw slacked open but he can’t find the words. He can’t seem to remember how to speak. “Prentiss,” he rasps, eyes sliding shut but his hand closes around hers. Begging, pleading that she understands.

“I’m right here,” she promises. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

A week later, she finds him tripping over himself he’s so drunk. Making a mess of himself and everything around him but… that’s all he’s ever been good for anyway. She doesn’t say anything. There isn’t any disappointment in her eyes, despite what he’s expecting.

Haley always hated seeing him drunk. He gets sloppy.

Where Haley had seen only Mr. Hotchner, a broken old bastard, in her husband, Emily just sees a man begging for normalcy. For the pain to numb and for things to return to normal.

Emily just takes the bottle out of his hand. Taking a chug out of the bitter, dark liquid she grunts as she swallows. It burns and she supposed that’s half of the appeal to him. “Come watch the History channel with me,” she says, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. He goes easily. She knows he likes the History channel and she also knows that he just needs some stability. Something solid. So she leans into his side and holds his hand. Reminds him that he’s not as alone as he thinks that he is.

But even that’s not enough.

“Hotch! Hotch, that’s enough! He’s dead, man,” Morgan falls to his knees, pulling Hotch from Foyet’s body. “He’s dead.”

Emily watches Hotch’s trembling body. The split skin of his knuckles and the way that two of his fingers crookedly bend into his palm. Rough ragged sobs tear through the room, breathless words passing Hotch’s lips. He’s shaking uncontrollably. She watches, his bowed back, snap. His attention, that hawk-like, eerie attention, is moved. It’s changed.

He pulls himself from Morgan’s arms.

Morgan having drawn Hotch to his chest. Bent their bodies to mold them into a folded backward hug. Their heads pressed together. Morgan can’t help his own tears. The abject horror washing over his body at the sight of the mess before him. Great arching sprays of blood and the thick scent of blood looming over them. And George Foyet… a blooded lifeless body before them.

And Hotch…

He stumbles to his feet, pulling his body from where he’d fallen into Morgan. Where he’d allowed himself just a moment's embrace. He takes three, four large steps on shaking legs.

Emily steps forward but Dave catches her elbow. He stops her from moving to Hotch.

He’s not in his right mind. Dave’s only protecting her. Protecting them. Aaron is hardly going to survive today, he doesn’t need to accidentally hurt Emily. He is a live wire and he’ll take them all out in the explosion.

George Foyet arches against his wires and they’re standing right there when his anger boils over and he screams into the nothing. Holding Haley’s body in his arms so delicate and broken. They’re both just broken dolls, their cords cut and the curtain comes tumbling down. One last final blow-- his job really did take everything from.

Jack isn’t enough to save him.

He blows up. It’s not nuclear but it’s unhinged and raw and there’s something about his eyes that makes Emily finally draw the line. He’s hurting but there has to be a line. A place where one of them steps in and says that it’s enough. That he’s got to pull himself together before he sucks them all into the black hole of his chest. And she’s quickly realizing, she’s the only one strong enough to do the job.

She finds him on a bender. He can hardly stand and the light mirth she’d once admired about his quizzical eyebrow raises is gone. The man standing before is a mess and she’s not sure if she hates herself or him more for letting it get this bad. For not finding that line sooner.

“Jesus,” she whispers.

He knows disgust when he sees it. A childhood spent curled into his father’s shoe, cracked ribs, and broken arms, he knows disgust all right. And now, a fully grown man, he just laughs. There’s nothing light about the sound. It’s morbid and twisted in his throat. A hollow sound. She’s disgusted by him.

“You need a shower,” she informs him with a curl of her nose. She steps past him, ignoring the frown she shoots her. She knows that he doesn't want her here but what he wants isn’t really a priority right now. He hasn’t got to tell her. She can see it in his eyes and smell it on his breath. He wants to crawl into a dark hole and die. She’s here to drag his sorry ass out.

Looking around his apartment, the first priority is getting rid of all the bottles. “Where are the trash bags,” she asks, heading to his kitchen. He’s already shaking his head, running his hands through his thick greasy hair. She finds the bags on her own, right where she’d assumed they’d be. Under the sink. “Where’s Jack?”

He falls onto the couch with a huff. “Jessica,” he grunts.

Good, she thinks, for him. Jack doesn’t need to see his father like this. Hell, no one does but… someone has to. At the same time, if Jack were here, Aaron wouldn’t have let himself get this bad.

“He probably misses you,” she says, starting in on tossing his garbage. There’s an astounding lack of food but it’s also not entirely surprising that without one of them hovering over him and forcing him to eat that he hasn’t tried. The word suicidal may not have come out of their mouths but they watch him. They see him. Sometimes you don’t have to speak a truth for it to be true.

And Aaron Hotchner is a coward. They are all. It’s why they haven’t taken his guns and it’s why he hasn’t put one to his mouth.

There are three guns in his home.

Two service weapons that he wouldn’t stain with his own blood. He took a vow and those weapons are not meant for this. It’s a disgrace to the only thing that’s ever made him mean anything.

The third is a gun his father had given him.

He was sixteen.

The words had poured out of his mouth. An aching truth he hadn’t even realized was true until the words were spoken. He did want to kill himself. The abuse was never going to end. He could see no end in sight and his father consumed his every action and thought and even his self-image.

He was tired of his reflection.

His father had grabbed the bottom of his jaw, large fingers digging into his flesh as he’d pulled Hotch’s mouth open. Hotch had shaken, frozen in place, as his father pressed the barrel of his gun to the roof of his mouth. Gunpowder and cold metal.

Sometimes, Hotch can still taste it.

He’d been afraid to die then but now, he longs for it. There is a darkness in his veins, murky and thick, that he needs to spill out. To watch the crimson drip down his flesh so that he can see, so that he can know that beneath this shell he is alive. That there is only a part of his sum that is broken and dead. He is alive.

His ribcage expands with life.

His heart beats with purpose.

But his mind… it has rotted. Desolate and afraid.

His father had beaten him senseless that night but that made it no different than any other night.

And the very gun that had once been pressed between his lips now rests in the safe in his office. Untainted and calling out so wistfully to him. He can hear it now, as Emily calmly collects his empty bottles of alcohol. His throne of glass shattering beneath him. He can always hear it. How simple it would be to get it now. To just end all of this.

“Aaron?”

He looks up suddenly, eyes unfocused and glazed.

“Aaron!”

The bile hits the back of his throat and is thrown out on his hands and knees, expelling the contents of his stomach into the porcelain of the toilet. His head throbs as Emily follows him, turning on the lights. He’s been sitting in the dark for so long, he’d forgotten the sting of the light.

“Just leave me alone,” he grunts, spits falling over his bottom lip as his stomach aches on. Rolling and churning. He’s put nothing in it for the last forty-eight hours other than Scotch, Oxy, and two shitty beers from when he first moved into this shit-stained apartment. He groans as his stomach clenches, leaning his forehead against the cold porcelain.

Emily’s seen enough. She’s tired of this little performance he’s putting on. “No,” she steps to the sink and drenches a rag in the shockingly cold water. Wringing it out only slightly before slapping over the back of his neck. “This bullshit, it ends tonight, do you understand me?”

He grunts as the rag meets his skin, trembling muscles protesting at the temperature difference of his overheated body. Even if he could think of something to say in protest, he’s not sure it would make it past his lips without being accented by more drug-laced regurgitated booze. Besides, he knows she's right. Deep, deep down. Beneath the self-loathing heat and even farther down beneath the frayed parts of him that never survived childhood. He knows. He knows that even if it’s not for him, he has to stop. For the team and his son.

“First,” she whispers kneeling down beside him. “We need to get you sober.” She draws a clean rag over his face, wiping the vomit from his lips. “What have you taken?”

He shakes his head. Can’t meet her eyes. He’s ashamed and he should be.

She reaches out to touch him but he flinches, looking between her hand and her face. As if he’s expecting her to hit him. “Aaron,” she softens her voice. Moving slowly until she’s cupping his cheek. His eyes water, chest hitching as his breathing grows unsteady with the emotions boiling to the surface. “I just want you to get better.”

A tear falls down his cheek and he turns his cheek, trying and failing to hide it from her. He wants to get better.

Tears are falling down his face when he turns his face back to her and pulls in a stuttering breath. He pulls his sleeve up. He shows her the hesitantly made cuts on his forearm. “I-- I don’t…” he pulls away from the hand she reaches out to him with. But when she tries again, he lets her hold his wrist in her hand. Her finger ghosts over the scabs. He hadn’t known what he was doing and he hadn’t liked the blood. He’d just wanted the hurt.

It was too much like Foyet. The knife and the razor and the blood on his white t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

She shakes her head. No, this is-- this is his fault. These cuts were made by his hand but they never should have let him get so low. They should have done more.

Pulling her eyes from his arm she steadies herself. He isn’t hopeless. He's a fighter and he’s stronger than she is. He’s got more to lose than he realizes.

“I took the oxy,” he admits. “It’s-- It wasn’t enough.” He’s shaking now, coming down from his anger and submitting to the pain. “You need to…” a part of his broken mind screams. It screams to fall silent. That he needs the gun and that he’s just supposed to be distracting her now so that he can follow through with the plan he’s been making for weeks--

The office and the gun. Spinning in the leather-bound chair that Haley had gotten him as a wedding gift and biting the bullet. The letters are written and waiting on his desk. The chamber is full. The gun calls for him.

“There’s a gun,” he whispers. “In my office, you need to-- you have to get it or I’ll…”

She nods her understanding.

He can’t see around the tears pooling in his eyes, “uhm... “ He’s trying to think, what else? What else is left? He couldn’t stomach the thought of slitting his wrist. Never had the nerve to draw a bath and just to sink into warmth… that’s too gentle. He’d needed a bang. A mess and more disgust. More hurt.

And now he can feel the panic of his options being taken away.

“Aaron,” she squeezes his hand. He meets her eyes and feels a fraction of warmth. “Just-- Just--” she wants to tell him to let her in. She wants to tell him that all this is going to pass in time and this awful moment will just be a cruel memory one day. But she’s looking at him and seeing her own reflection. Two people broken by time and unable to trust another human being. She can’t be certain why she does it.

Her mind screams that he’s neither trustworthy nor in the right mind but she wraps her around him and pulls him into a hug. “I love you,” she tells him, hugging him tightly. Feeling his tension and apprehension. Slowly, he lifts his arms and hugs her back. He clings to her. Squeezing her tight but she’s not going anywhere.

He’s vaguely aware of the fabric of her soft cotton shirt getting wet against his face. Her hand comes up and brushes his hair down and he finds that he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s sobbing in the arms of the very woman who was once hired to end his career. He doesn’t care because he feels the pain and for once, he can breathe.

Emily holds him tighter. Neither is speaking. They just cling together in the storm and Emily hopes that she can drag him out of this mess. That he can come back here, to her arms instead of into the bottle. And she’ll get his gun. She’ll throw out all of the alcohol and call Jessica in three or four days when he’s mopped up and dry and tell her that Hotch needs to see Jack.

And maybe one day they’ll think back to this moment and it won’t hurt as much. But for today, for this moment, they just hold one another.

[criminalmindsandotherstuff]

Water Fountain

Jemily Fic

She told me that she loved me by the water fountain She told me that she loved me and she didn't love him

It felt like yesterday, but it was three years ago. Three years ago, the love of her life told her that she loved her for the first time. 

They were watching some show that was playing on TV in her house. Will wouldn’t be home for a few hours, so it was okay to be wrapped up in the blanket together.

“Emily, please say something,” the blonde whispered into her hair.

“JJ...” 

“Please?”

Her mind was racing and she didn’t know what to do. She had been waiting for this moment since the moment she saw her walk into Hotch’s office. She had been waiting for those words to come out of her perfect mouth and all she wanted to do was say it back. Why couldn’t she?

“Y-you have a boyfriend. You have Will.”

The blonde’s hands were ice cold against her cheek, but she didn’t want to lose this. She knew she had screwed up, but JJ was still there.

“I know. I know, but I... I don’t love him, Emily. He’s amazing and he’s so thoughtful, but he isn’t what I want. I don’t love him,” JJ explained.

I love you too is what she wanted to say. Instead... 

“I have to go” was all that came out.

And that was really lovely 'cause it was innocent But now she's got a cup with something else in it It's getting kind of blurry at a quarter-past-ten And he was in a hurry to be touching her skin She's feeling kind of dirty when she's dancing with him Forgetting what she told me by the water fountain

That was three years ago. Now, she was at their wedding. It had been a few hours since they were officially married now everyone was having fun. Everyone was tipsy and was having a great time. Everyone except her. 

She watched as JJ danced with Will. 

Now he's grabbing her hips, and pulling her in Kissing her lips, and whispering in her ear And she knows that she shouldn't listen And that she should be with me by the water fountain

She didn’t want to, but she saw Will’s hands begin to slide down from JJ’s back. She saw the hesitation in JJ’s face. Then their eyes met and the hesitation was gone. She didn’t stop Will’s hands. She let him guide her into the house. She didn’t realize how nobody noticed that they were gone for an hour. 

She noticed. She always noticed.

She couldn't be at home in the night time because It made her feel alone, but at that time she was too young I was too young

With every case came a nightmare. A nightmare that JJ would never talk about, but Emily knew she felt like she was alone. She knew because every time JJ climbed into bed with her and cuddled, she held her like she was the last person she would ever touch. 

She wanted to say those three binding words every single night, but it was terrifying. 

I should've built a home with a fountain for us The moment that she told me that she was in love too young I was too young

Too young, too young Too young, young

Emily sat there watching everyone dance with the people they loved and she regretted everything. She thought of how that night should have gone. She wanted it to be her that was dancing with JJ. She should’ve said it back. Why didn’t she say it?

And if she ever goes back to the water fountain The handle will be broken and the rust set in But my hand, it will be open and I'll try to fix it My heart, it will be open and I'll try to give it

Even though she knew that JJ would never be hers, that she lost her chance, she would always be there for her. She would be the best friend that was there through every fight. She would be there for her no matter what. But if JJ ever needed something else, if she didn’t ruin all chances, she was ready. She knew that she would say it. She would do everything she could to show her how much she truly loved her.

Now I'm grabbing her hips, and pulling her in Kissing her lips, and whispering in her ear And I know that it's only a wish And that we're not standing by the water fountain

Too young, too young Too young, young

She opened her eyes and staring back at her were beautiful, baby blue eyes. 

“God, I love you so much,” Emily whispered into her ear.

“Mmm, I love you too. Now, please, stop talking and kiss me.” JJ chuckled.

She leaned in for the kiss, closed her eyes and she was gone. She only saw one thing. Reality. She saw JJ and Will together just like they would always be.

She couldn't be at home in the night time because It made her feel alone but at that time she was too young I was too young

Three more years passed and she was there. Just like she promised. She was there through every argument. She was there through the pregnancy. Happy, happy Emily. Always smiling even though all she wanted to do was scream and cry. She was there through the nightmares, but this time JJ didn’t hold her like she used to. She wouldn’t ever hold her like that again.

I should've built a home with a fountain for us The moment that she told me that she was in love too young I was too young

Too young, too young Too young, young

Alone. She was alone. All because she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t do the one thing she needed to do. 

I should've built a home with a fountain for us (Too young) the moment that she told me that she was in love (Too young) too young (Young) I was too young

“I love you too,” Emily whispered as she boarded the plane.

The plane that would take her away from all of this. From the pain of losing the one person she had ever loved. She was leaving. And this time she couldn’t go back.

(Song: Water Fountain by Alec Benjamin)

[reidology]

WIP tag: tagged by @thefandomlesbian thank you ily!!!!

this was so funny to me bc i haven’t touched these in... over a month. don’t expect anything soon lol

Runway AU - Penelope get’s the whole team to join an FBI charity event - a fashion competition show! Lot’s of sexy outfits, sexy people, and sexy times. Here’s a preview. Yes I’ve been working on this for months, no it won’t be done soon.

Hamilton AU - They meet at the Winter’s Ball, Aaron saddles up to Spencer standing in the corner reading. They hit it off but Spencer panics and introduces Aaron to Haley, his sister and best friend. Aaron and Spencer’s fondness for each other grows exponentially; if Aaron marries Haley he could keep Spencer in his life. As Aaron climbs the ranks of the government his marriage begins to crumble, and he recognizes his feelings for Spencer. Unfortunately, during this time Spencer had moved to London to pursue an academic career, their longing for each other grows and the letters they exchange get more desperate. Spencer comes back home to visit Aaron, he doesn’t tell Haley. Aaron goes on a ‘business trip’. They stay at the Inn. Mood-board

Dying in a bathtub - Aaron get’s horrible nightmares. It’s nothing new, but now he’s waking up in the bathtub each night. There’s a reason why but Aaron isn’t ready to admit it to himself, much less Spencer. So instead of pressuring him, Spencer begins to put pillows and blankets in the tub before they go to bed, so that Aaron doesn’t get hurt. They end up cuddling in the bathtub fort <3 Preview  Mood-board

God I wish that was me -  After a long case, the team is living it up at a bar. Hotch and Spencer, exhausted and not ones for dirty dancing and alcohol poisoning, stay at the booth and ogle a gay couple being cutesy in a bar. After sighing wistfully they both go ‘God I wish that was me’ and have a whole ‘what did you just say?’ intense eye contact moment. Needless to say they do not go home alone that night :)

Did you hang up? - Just smut. Hotch and Spencer are getting it on in bed, full on rough moaning scratching ‘daddy’ fucking when Spencer’s phone rings super loudly! It’s really annoying and ruining the mood so Spencer reaches to hang up but unbeknownst to him... he accidentally answers it. 

“Did you hang up?”

“Yeah”, Reid's voice hitched on a moan. 

“God I wish you could see yourself like this, you look so pretty with my hand around your throat.”

He nips at his jaw, eliciting a broken moan from the man below him, “you’re so good for me baby boy.”

Basically Hotch says and does anything that could scar Derek for life. Derek can’t look Reid in the eye for weeks. 

Hotch... left? - Spencer is in prison, high out of his mind. He keeps hallucinating Hotch because he needs him to be here right now. He needs Hotch. Even after he comes down, he keeps begging for Hotch to come back, he just wants to see him one more time, just to say goodbye. Luke is there for him, helps him through everything from getting him back to the States to protecting him in prison. Ends in Ralvez.

Sean/Spencer/Aaron - Hotch and Haley separate and he has nowhere to go but his brother’s place. He’s shocked to find out that Spencer and Sean were practically living together. He had known about a hookup and an awkward coffee date, but Spencer and his little brother in a relationship? Doesn’t feel right. Hotch is at his wit’s end, having to endure hearing them fuck almost every night. Loudly. Maybe this is all part of Reid’s cunning plan to make Hotch jealous. Lot’s of credit goes to @xogublerxo for this one

Shipwreck - After Hankel, Spencer is agoraphobic. It affects every moment of his life. Aaron helps him get back on his feet. 

Spencer has always been somewhat of an anxious guy. Overthinking ‘simple’ interactions, having to know each step and each possible outcome of a situation before it happens, fearing meeting new people, fearing being seen. Growing up, he was no stranger to panic attacks, but he learned to manage it in his own way. He didn’t get help, he didn’t really think he needed it anyway, afterall, he takes care of his schizophrenic mother day in and day out, he can take care of himself. Others just see him as odd, standoffish maybe, but that’s just a part of who he is. So, Spencer adapted, learned to navigate a stranger’s ship with his own, homemade sails. They’d been ripped apart and stitched back together more times than he cares to count, but regardless, Spencer managed.

He managed and he improvised his way to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where he quickly learned that he could have a purpose. But most importantly, this is where he found what he’d always been looking for, a support system. A team he didn’t feel judged by, who valued his contributions and never put him down for his quirks or his unique mannerisms. The BAU lifted a dark cloud from his head and opened up new horizons, Spencer could finally breathe. Plank by plank, Spencer began to build his own ship. Walking into a police station, surrounded by new people, competitive authority, monsters, and more had never felt so natural. Yes, Spencer still had days where he needed to psych himself up to deliver a profile, to ask a detective about the crime scene, to interrogate a witness, or even just to get up in the morning. But overall, life was looking up. Friends, job, purpose; he was starting to have it all. 

Then Tobias Hankel happened. And Spencer’s ship crashed. 

Therapy - Reid and Hotch meet at a formal FBI function. When Gideon introduces them, their reactions were practically instantaneous, Hotch thought Reid was too young and pretentious, using his genius as his only personality. He wasn’t impressed, so the kid has a good memory? That doesn’t equal skill or intelligence. Spencer’s first thought was alpha male. Also known as competitive and arrogant. Hotchner did not smile once during their conversation and sneered when he turned down a handshake. The way he spoke was curt and dry, he was a hardass. One month later Spencer found himself standing in a bullpen, surrounded by his new coworkers. Looking through the slats of his office window was Aaron Hotchner, livid that Gideon had let this kid join the team. Their interactions are strained, both emanating hatred for the other. Then, they meet each other all over again at group therapy, where they’re forced to learn each other’s darkest secrets. Hate-fucking ensues.

Secret Admirer - Hotch starts getting anonymous letters on his desk. Some are mundane, talking about their day, telling Hotch to drink more water. Some are more desperate ‘you could never see me the way I see you’. Hotch has a pretty good idea of who it is, but he’s scared shitless of what it would mean in he reciprocated.

Secret Admirer 2.0 - Inspired by a Peterick fic I read once. Spencer is broken. He searches for purpose at a bdsm club where he gets blindfolded and displayed for everyone to see. Hotch finds him kneeling in a showroom and can’t resist... He masks his voice and makes Reid keep the blindfold on. It was only meant to be one time, but Spencer needs more and Hotch is weak. Spencer never knows that it’s Hotch and Hotch hopes he never finds out.

I kind of want to see this with roles reversed, but I’ll never write this bc it’s too advanced for me lol.

Quiet Cuddles part ?? - It’s a relaxed rainy evening, Hotch’s head is in Spencer’s lap, arms wrapped around the younger’s midsection, knees bent up and nose pressed to Spencer’s tummy. Lots of head kissing and gently fingers running through unkempt hair.

Night at JJ’s - Spencer spends the night at JJ’s with a huge tub of ice cream and 5 blankets. He confesses about who Ethan really was to him, from high school to college to New Orleans. He cries about Hotch leaving him because of Foyet. Sad and feelings. 

What the BAU does in the shadows - What we do in the shadows but BAU edition. Self-explanatory. Vampires. Haven’t really started it yet. Think about it all the time. 

The one where Spencer fakes his death instead of Emily - Every one thinks Spencer is dead, including Hotch and JJ. The only one who knows the truth is Strauss, and she’ll take that secret to her grave, no matter how hard Spencer tries to come back.

i tag: @xogublerxo (plsssss talk about it 🥺) @hotchreidd @garcias-bitch @goobzoop @tobias-hankel and anyone else who wants to do it, no pressure at all guys! (except mia, lots of pressure) 

[dontshootmespence]

College Crime Stoppers

A/N: An anon request for a BAU fic where they are a much younger group of kids, late teens and early twenties, not working for the BAU, that go around solving crimes in their spare time, kind of like the Scooby Doo gang. Takes place in Vegas. @coveofmemories @jamiemelyn @sexualemobitch @unstoppableangel8 @iammostdefinitelyonfire26

                                                            -----

What happened when seven college students with a knack for actually using their brains came together in their off time?

Basically, you got the real-life Sherlock Holmes, Kay Scarpettas, and Hercule Poirots of the world - the wanna-be crime stoppers that were using their wits for something other than law enforcement. 

First, there was David Rossi, age 23, whose parents worked for an engineering firm and had been transferred just before he started college. He’d drifted through school for nearly three and a half years, not knowing what he truly wanted to do, until finally he landed on it. Cooking - it had always been his one true passion. Once he’d finally decided what he wanted to do, he transferred to Le Cordon Bleu’s campus in Vegas and was training under some of the best in the field.

Next was Aaron Hotchner, age 22, who’d grown up doors down from David. Since he was a child, he knew he wanted to be a lawyer. After four grueling years of college, he was returning to the University of Nevada, Las Vegas in just a few weeks to begin law school. His father, also a lawyer, was ecstatic, and Mrs. Hotchner could not have been more proud.

Derek Morgan was also 22. From the time he was a child, his father had taught him the value of working with his hands, so it felt truly natural for him to pursue a degree in construction management; it would allow him to continue on the legacy his father had built, Morgan and Hayes Construction, a construction company his father had established with his best friend, Matthew Hayes. Morgan couldn’t deny that in his time of from school his mind tended to wander toward Hayes’ daughter, Savannah.

Emily Prentiss, age 21, was the next oldest in the group of seven. Her mother was an ambassador, so they had moved around for quite a while, but she’d taken a permanent position for her daughter to stay in the same high school. Best friends with JJ and dating Aaron Hotchner, she was pursuing a degree in world languages with a minor in Russian and Spanish, hoping to one day work for the UN.

Then was Penelope Garcia, age 20. On her own for the past two years after her parents tragically passed away in a car crash, she hopped to different friends’ houses and had taught herself coding. She never went to school, but she could probably hack the Pentagon if someone asked her to.

JJ, or Jennifer Jareau, was 19 years old and wanted more than anything to become a nurse, and hopefully work in a neonatal unit of a nearby hospital. She, Penelope and Spencer all lived near each other, and anyone you asked would say the trio was inseparable.

And lastly of course was Spencer Reid, a certified genius with an IQ of 187. He’d already obtained two bachelor’s degrees and was starting a Ph.D. in Engineering at the University of Nevada Las Vegas this year.

Through it all, different schools, different towns, somehow the seven of them had come together. One day about a year earlier, someone had asked them in passing if they’d seen someone pass by with a very particular bike that had been stolen from him. It had irked them so badly, they ended up seeking out the bike stealer and eventually returning the bike to its original owner.

Ever since then, if someone needed help in their local area, they found themselves helping. “You ready to go?” JJ asked Spencer, at the moment reluctantly peeling himself off her couch. The group of them had decided to go to a Halloween-themed Murder Mystery dinner. Spencer was dreading going; he hated big gatherings of any kind, but JJ and Penelope had begged him to go. 

“Yea,” he groaned. 

Within a half hour, all seven college students found themselves sitting at a table enjoying the beginning of a delicious three-course meal. Now was going to be the moment that the lights would go out and a dead body would appear, Spencer thought to himself. It was all so predictable. And as if on cue, the lights went out, came back on two seconds later, and when they returned, he saw the body of a man on the floor.

Everyone playfully screamed, while the already jaded college students giggled at the whole ordeal...until Emily noticed the body seemed to be bleeding. When she approached the body and turned him over, there was a small knife sticking straight out of his heart.

In a panic, everyone actually started screaming. Emily turned toward her friends and boyfriend. Should they help? Could they help? Sure, the police would be there soon, but it would still be a while, and no one could leave until they arrived. “We should help,” she said.

“We found a stolen bike, a missing cat, and stopped a bully,” Spencer whispered hotly. “Murder? How are we supposed to help?”

Emily wanted to help and Aaron wanted to impress her, so that meant he did too. Spencer was too petrified to help, and JJ and Penelope just thought they wouldn’t be able to, while Rossi and Morgan just thought the rest of the group was insane.

While they waited, they observed the panicked patrons around them. The man on the floor had been sitting at a nearby table. Everyone with him looked suspicious now. “Are any of them missing a knife?” Rossi asked.

Spencer huffed. “I would hope no one would be that stupid. None of them are missing one, plus, the handle looked too small, like it was a paring knife or something, not a steak knife.”

“I overheard the man next to the woman in green saying something about his old job. I think he employed the dead man at one point. Maybe he has a connection?”

“Maybe,” JJ interjected. “But the woman is my bet.”

“Why do you say that?” Morgan asked.

She turned back toward the woman, glancing every now and then to gauge her reaction. “Her reaction when everyone else thought it was still the dinner was just a touch too real, and now she is over the top. Of course, you’d expect a woman to be distraught over the loss of her husband,” JJ said, pointing to her ring finger to indicate the woman and man were married, “But she is crying way too hard.”

“So maybe she’s just really distraught,” Morgan said.

Hotch shook his head. “No, JJ’s right. She’d not crying out of sadness. It’s anger.”

“Why anger?” Emily wondered aloud. 

Spencer noticed the woman turning to the others at the table and pointing fingers, both literally and figuratively. “She’s accusing the people she’s with. If she was purely just distraught, she probably wouldn’t be thinking about who did it.”

“So we have a theory that it’s the woman in green, right?” Penelope asked, her blonde curls bouncing up and down as she moved in quickly to whisper to her friends. 

JJ nodded. “Can you hack another person’s phone from your phone?”

“Can I?” Penelope said surprised. “Is there anything yours truly can’t do?”

If she could hack the Pentagon from a laptop in her car, she could get into a couple of cellphones. At the speed of light, her fingers flew across the keyboard, attempting to uncover the dirty little secrets of the inhabitants of the nearby table. 

While Penelope worked her magic with the cellphones, everyone else mingled around the open space, chatting with anyone they could to gain some valuable insight as to who the killer might be. The police arrived shortly after and started taking statements, mostly from tables toward the front, where they and their suspects were not. 

“What have you found?” Hotch asked Penelope as he sidled over to her. 

“What have I not found?” She laughed. “The man next to the woman in green is Michael Dance, a construction engineer who recently fired the dead man, Jacob Brewer. The woman in green is Jacob’s wife, Melanie. Next to Melanie on the other side is her friend, Justine Cramer, who dated Jacob in high school. Next to Justine is her current husband, the second one, whose name is Marcus. The guy next to Marcus? Justine’s first husband, Eric Goldstein. Who knows what the hell is up with that. And the other couple at the table are Tina and Barry Rockingham. They have no connection to anyone at the table.”

“You got all that in ten minutes?” Hotch asked incredulously.

Penelope feigned hurt and grabbed Hotch’s drink, downing it in one gulp. “I am the master,” she smiled. “Now mama’s gonna grab some more of this amazing ice tea while the rest of you do your thing.”

While the police continued to take statements, the rest of the crime-fighting group gathered back at the table save for Emily. “What do we have?” Rossi asked.

“Well, there seemed to be some hostility between Jacob, the dead dude, and his former employer, Michael Dance. Michael had to lay people off recently because of the economy and it didn’t sit well with Jacob,” Morgan said. “But Michael had no ill will toward Jacob, so I don’t know what the motive would be.”

 “Justine is just your typical gold-digger,” Spencer said candidly. “She came here with her second husband. She comes every year, so that’s how her first husband ended up here, because he was trying to win her back even though she cleaned him out of half his cash during their divorce.” The rest of the group wondered how he got this information. “It’s a wonder what people say when they’re drunk.”

“True,” Emily said as she approached. “But I think I know who did it...the chef. Well, the guy playing the chef.”

Rossi being the oldest of the group always asked the rest of them for explanations, like he was the boss or something. “How do you know?”

Emily took a deep breath and then went into a full-on speech. “While I was talking to the other couple at the table, who have no connection to the rest of them by the way, I overheard a conversation taking place behind me between the guy playing the chef and the guy playing the butler. The guy playing the butler asked why the other one was so calm, and he responded ‘that condescending fucker had what was coming to him.’ Now that perked my ears up, so I turned around and used my womanly wiles to get them to give me their names. The butler is Brendon Pond and the chef is Joseph Brewer; that’s right, the dead man’s brother.”

Penelope had since returned to the group and again pulled out her phone to dig a little deeper into the lives of Jacob, Joseph and Melanie Brewer. “Okay, since Jacob was laid off, he developed his own construction firm in a neighboring town. He made quite a name for himself and his business seemed to be growing. I have a police report here that says that Joseph, two years younger, was taken into custody after a fight because he needed a job, but his brother wouldn’t give him one. Apparently his younger brother is a screw-up.”

“Well,” JJ said with a smile, “If I know men, and I think I do, Joseph coveted his brother’s entire life, wife included. The two of them started an affair. Jacob, being a construction firm owner, probably has a decent life insurance policy, so with him out of the way, Melanie and Joseph would be well-off and they could be together.

Morgan eyes widened. Spencer pondered why people couldn’t stay faithful. Emily gave JJ a high five and Penelope once again patted herself on the back for a job well done. 

Eventually, the police came to them to give a statement. They’d been asking everyone if they could think of who would’ve done such a thing, so all of them told the police of their suspicions, minus the initial hacking on Penelope’s part of course. 

Once everyone had given a statement, most of them would be free to go, but the young college students actually wanted to stay and see how things played out. It got even more interesting when the police started taking statements from the people at Melanie Brewer’s table. Without bringing the wanna-be crime stoppers into it, they’d brought up a variety of possibilities. “What the hell gave you that idea?” Joseph Brewer boomed. Although he hadn’t meant to, the cop had glanced back toward the group. “You think I’m a killer?”

Emily just laughed, Joseph’s drunken breath nearly knocking her off her feet. “Yea, actually. You have a history of hating your brother. She has a history of cheating. All public record mind you,” she said, turning toward the officer, “Who better to be carrying around that murder weapon than the man playing the chef, and on top of that I believe I see a small speck of blood on that navy blue tie you’re wearing, presumably from when you washed your hands.”

In his supreme inebriation, he didn’t even try to hide it, screaming about how his brother deserved it and bringing Melanie down with him. “She put me up to it! Said we could be together and we’d be rich!”

Ear-piercing screams and flying fists played out in front of them until the cops put them both in handcuffs. They might not have had conclusive proof, but they did have enough to take them in. One of the officers approached the group and thanked them for their time, suggesting they might like law enforcement if they hadn’t picked a major yet before returning to the suspects to bring them to the squad car. 

When they were taken outside, passing the group of college crime stoppers on the way, the brother muttered under his breath. “I could've gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids!”

[winterscaptain]

How do you think Hotch would react to seeing you be flirty with someone else on the team? 🥺

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

i went with a ‘breaking point’ moment i’ve been thinking about for a while, and it got a little long...hope you like it!! and i can always do something else in an established relationship if you’d like :)

words: 712 warnings: mentions of drinking, dirty dancing, protective/possessive!hotch. a little steamy, but not mature by any stretch. 

+++

It was one of the many nights out at the club where you’d all had a little too much to drink. Well, all of you except Aaron. Spencer bowed out early with Dave, to nobody’s surprise. 

You danced with Derek, and it was dirty. His hands seem to be everywhere, while your arms were looped around his neck, his thigh bearing most of your weight as he threw you around the dance floor. It didn’t mean anything, and neither of you were particularly bothered, so to speak, but it was fun to let loose a little bit with one of your best friends. 

“Do you want help?”

You laughed into Derek’s ear. “What do you mean?”

“You and Hotch. Do you want help?” 

“You’re kidding.” 

Derek chuckled into your neck and tightened his grip on your waist. “We’re profilers, kiddo. You and me? We know how to make him snap. Want to try?” 

You grin at him. “And if it doesn't work?”

He shrugs around you. “We just have a great night of dancing and the next night’s on you.” 

“You’re on.”

Emily and JJ were in a similar position a little ways off, right were you and Derek could see them. While you were able to leave work at work most of the time, you couldn't help but keep each other in sight. The inclusion of alcohol with crowds always made for a little bit of a risky situation, but there was no better backup than your team. 

Hotch, holding down the table with a beer in his hand, was none too happy. He knew Derek didn't mean anything to you, not like that anyway. You were close friends, and certainly affectionate with each other, but the tension he would expect with some measure of attraction didn't exist.

So why did he feel like he was in his own personal hell?

He glowered into his beer bottle until a hand clapped down on his shoulder. It was Emily, flushed and sweaty and fresh off the floor. “You look absolutely miserable,” she said with a smirk. 

He shrugged. “No, just tired.” Against his will, his eyes strayed back to you, your head thrown back in laughter with your hips glued to Derek’s. 

Emily laughed, a light, happy sound. “Oh, no no. You don't get to pull that with me.” 

He looked at her from under his brows and took a long drink. 

“You’re not subtle, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Y/N is kind of head-over-heels in love with you, I’ll have you know,” she said, taking a delicate sip of her drink, followed by a huge gulp of water. “And you look like you want to murder Morgan right about now.” 

Aaron sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’ve had a lot to drink, Emily.”

She snorted. “Not that much.” 

He looked back at you, startled to find your eyes on him, too. You leaned deeply into Derek, his hands pulling you close with your hands clutching at his shoulders. Over Derek’s arm, you looked into Aaron. His breath caught. 

Aaron didn’t see Emily’s grin as he stood and crossed the floor. Derek spun you under his arm and sent you straight into Hotch’s chest. With an “oof,” you found yourself face to face with him, your palms flat on his chest. 

He held you tight to him as the beat shook through your feet. You lost your breath then, leaning into him and pulling him close to you. You tried not to think too hard, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his body against yours. 

His hand crawled up your back to meet the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled. You gasped and brought your hands to his face. Your noses brushed together, and you surprised yourself by speaking.

“Did it bother you?”

His lips brushed over yours has he replied. “Did what bother me.” 

You look at him through your lashes and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Seeing me with Derek.”

He laughed darkly, and you could smell the beer on his breath. It made you shiver. “You have no idea.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

When he kissed you, you could feel his smile. 

+++

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