#former bau agent reader

[anika-ann]

No Pressure - Pt.2 (S.R.)

Type: two-shot, early relationship, canon-ish (see A/N);  Part 1

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader (GG x Sparkles)     Word count: 12,5k

Summary:

Having gotten a sound advice from a friend, you and Steve try to work things out. And maybe, it will end up with you two working out; because Steve Rogers does nothing by halves - less so with you.

Warnings: 18+ for some serious FILTH, SMUT, unprotected piv, brief mention of a jerk from Sparkles’ past, fluff, language 

A/N: Standalone or a two-shot following Love on the Brain series and its oneshots - you might profit from checking the masterlist for characters; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

A/N: 6,8k of fluff done ✅it’s time for 12k of healthy communication and NSFW if you wanna spli the reading, look for  “let alone such small bump on the road” - underlined

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.”

- E.E. Cummings

Having decided to spend the night at a hotel instead of rushing back to New York – no matter how fast the Quinjet could get – you said your goodbyes around one a.m., retreating to your room. Steve reserved a classy and slightly overpriced hotel for you taste, but as you walked through the surprisingly still lively lobby, you understood his choice. Even as it was Captain America with you on his arm walking by, no one blinked an eye – or didn’t approach you at least.

Hand in hand, you got into the elevator and you found yourself truly grateful for the privacy. Relaxed, you leaned your head onto Steve’s shoulder, catching his soft smile in the mirror. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“I had a really good time tonight, Sparkles. Thank you for taking me… all of us,” he muttered, causing you to grin up at him.

You couldn’t but agree with his sentiment – you had the best time too, seeing your two lives merge together effortlessly, with banter and laughs having left you tipsier than the little alcohol you had drunk. The merry atmosphere of the evening had now turned into a serene one, a slightly hazy dream of sorts – but the lightness of your heart remained.

Standing to your tiptoes, you pecked Steve’s lips chastely, hand on his shoulder for balance.

“My pleasure. Thank you for coming with me.”

Face to face, he lifted your joined hands, caressing your cheek with the back of his, eyes bright and proud.

“Always.”

You didn’t get the chance to process the butterflies in your stomach at his simple declaration as the door behind your back slid open, revealing the corridor leading to your room. Steve simply beckoned with his chin, lightly tugging at your hand and walking you out.

Leave to it Steve Rogers he’d only release that hand to hold the door open for you; you exaggerated the ‘why thank you, Mr.Rogers’ as you made a little curtsey and only then stepped in, taking a brief moment to scan the room as you kicked off your shoes.

A queen-sized bed with burgundy and cream cushions dominated the room, complemented by dark-wood closet with matching nightstands. Cream-coloured sofa aligned with the silvery walls; it almost faced, a little absurdly, the bathroom door, as if the guests could choose whether to watch the TV or hypnotize the door until it opened. Peeking behind the corner, you were welcomed by large and no-doubt one-way window replacing one of the walls, offering the view of city lights. Your overnight bags Steve had had brought up there sat by a drawer, right under non-descript modern art painting.

Despite the strictly hotel-like look of the room big enough to mimic a junior suite, you could still sense an air of home; but perhaps that was only the person you’d share the space with.

The door clicked shut with a barely-there noise, causing you to look over your shoulder with an automatic smile – one that turned curious when you found Steve still by the door, posture stiff and face focused. It seemed he had observed your every step, every little movement and as you spun on your heels to face him fully, his gaze flickered down for barely a second. And the moment he met your eyes again, your throat went a little dry, your brain registering something new in the way he was looking at you.

“What?” you asked awkwardly, pulse thundering so loud in your ears that had Steve decided to answer, you probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

Luckily, he was a man of action more often than not; and the new emotion you deciphered in his blown pupils was pure fire, speaking louder than words.

In three long strides, he was on you, hand cradling your jaw, mouth latching onto yours just as his arm wrapped around your waist. That was good thinking – the force with which his body had slammed into yours, the way he knocked all air from your lungs and had your head spin, would have probably had you lose your balance. Not to mention the same fire you had seen in his gaze licking at your insides, having your body melt into his.

But he got your back. Always.

He never released the firm grip around your middle as his tongue easily gained access into your mouth, tasting every whimper he elicited from you as he walked you backwards to the couch, hard muscle of his thighs brushing against yours with every step, his semi-hard bulge pressing just above your pubic bone.

A breathless sound of his name escaped you as he freed your lips in favour of breathing, mouth never leaving your skin, trailing along your jaw.

Had you had the mental capacity, you’d have wondered whether his supersoldier ears had heard your conversation with JJ – but the fleeting thought flew out of the window the moment the world spun and you found yourself falling, Steve’s strong hands catching you, his thighs wedged between yours, having you naturally straddle him as he planted himself on the couch.

You had no damn idea what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to question it.

The way his lips dominated yours had you tingle all over down to your fingertips, a crushing wave of heat stirring in your belly and flushing your core when his hips bucked just an inch up, his jeans-clad thighs meeting your own unwitting movements. Your hands found purchase of his shoulder and his hair, fingers sinking into his carefully combed silky strands. He sighed into your mouth contentedly as you did so, fingers flexing on your nape as he pulled you even closer, chest pressed to chest. When his hand inched lower, from the small of your back to the patch of skin just above the hem of your jeans, sliding under it and squeezing over the thin fabric of your panties, you were not proud of the sound that left your lips – but Steve didn’t seem to mind, his fingers flexing in your hair just enough to make you feel it and boost your confidence, but not enough to hurt.

Crumbling his shirt in a loose fist, you panted when his lips released you and his forehead lightly bumped into yours; his frantic breaths fanned over your face, hand moving back up again, drawing gentle circles on your back. Several pecks on your mouth, soft kisses peppered on your chin, on your cheek and along your jaw. You could feel his grip on you loosening, only making you grasp at him firmer, because it felt like whatever this had been was slipping from your fingers – as did he.

He gazed up at you and the sight of him – eyes wide with want, lips bruised, cheeks flushed – would be most precious hadn’t you sensed the lust slowly evaporating from between the two of you, Steve’s retreat drawing a thick line behind the outburst of passion. His lips traced a path down your throat, soft and soothing, warm, but not burning; he rested his forehead against your collarbone, having you tip your head back and nearly whine when his hnd respectively returned above the hem of your jeans.

As you gazed to the higher corner of the room, you felt tears of frustration and shame prickling your eyes. All the heat in your body morphed into embarrassment, the last drop to the figurative goblet of patience finally leading to an overflow.

“Why do we always do that?” you whispered soundlessly, your voice cracking on its edge.

Steve winced, head snapping up so quick he nearly knocked into your chin in the process; the lack of coordination spoke of just how taken aback he was by that question.

He stared at you, eyes wide, expression equally startled and pained. You gulped against the lump in your throat, squaring your shoulders to feign courage at least to yourself. Steve didn’t say a word, simply looking at you; at least he had the decency not to ask what you were talking about. That was both wonderful and awful, because on one hand, you were on the same page about something happening – on the other hand, you were on the same page about something happening.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, painfully soft, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he heard you suck in a harsh breath.

“How do we always end up here? I don’t… I don’t want to push you, I don’t want to push me. But I- is there something- is this about crossing some line, that we- you--- fuck,” you cursed as three hot droplets rolled down your cheeks, causing you to grit your teeth as you stomach flipped in shame. You angrily wiped the tears away, unable to meet Steve’s no doubt panicked gaze. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. “God-dammit, I wanted to talk about this and not break into damn tears, I don’t want to be that person—sorry, just, please, forget about this-“

You made to stand up and step back to retain some sort of dignity, because being a soppy mess – on both your face and in your underwear because god damn, Steve was such a skilful kisser and you craved his hands on you so much it was absurd – on top of him felt like anything but. He never let you; his grasp was gentle but unrelenting, much like the trap of his gaze you vainly tried to escape.

“That’s a little hard to forget,” he said lowly, every syllable sitting heavy on your chest – and from the look of it, on his too.

“Well… try,” you pleaded, fighting to gather your composure back, because Jesus, why on Earth were you crying, who even did that, were you into emotional manipulation now? And were you truly crying because your relationship wasn’t moving fast enough for your taste? Alright, that was oversimplification, but still, to shed tears over this was ridiculous and vile.

You knew Steve hated seeing you like this, you hated seeing him losing his composure too, and you had the situation been reversed, you’d do anything to turn his frown upside down. Anything. And so would he. You were so not in for a pity fuck that would, in addition to being a pity fuck, ruin everything.

Why did you have to open your big stupid mouth instead of basking in the fact you were finally with the man you were pining after for two long years? Why couldn’t you keep marvelling at the luck, the privilege not many people had to be with your friend, your love, your GG?

You just had to go and open the pandora box, didn’t you?

Shaking your head, you pressed against Steve’s shoulders, causing him to frown harder – you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t want to let you go, sensing you were truly upset and knowing his touch tended to ground you and him, but at the same time, he wanted to respect your need for space. Because he was a sweetheart. He’d never hurt you and if you just talked to him, explained your side of things, calmly, he’d hear you out and you’d work things out.

JJ had been right – you and Steve did need to talk. But now, with the chest of insecure thoughts unlocked in your brain, was absolutely not the time. Especially not with the scene you had just made.

Jesus, Sparkles, get a grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m being absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled self-consciously, the sound tasting foreign on your lips. You didn’t even recognize the crazy person who burst in tears a minute ago. You wondered if any of your profiler friends would give you a scientific explanation for that. Probably Spence. Maybe Rossi, having had gone through three marriages. Then again Derek probably had the most experience with variety of relationships – though the reason for that was that they never lasted long. Maybe Emily would-

A tender touch on your jaw stopped the frantic train of your thoughts; you blinked, focusing your gaze back to Steve’s face.

“Hey… I doubt that, Sparkles. Tell me what’s wrong. Is this about earlier, at the bowling alley? When you and JJ disappeared for a bit and you were upset? What exactly do you mean by ending up here?”

The flicker of fiery anger in his irises had the corners of your lips twitch weakly, your heart fluttering. ‘Do I have a beef with someone for making my girl sad?’ he had said, his protective persona reappearing.

Steve would beat up anyone who’d try to touch you within the inch of their life and you loved that about him. The issue here, however, was that he’d need to beat up either you or himself.

You genuinely believed this wasn’t the best time to discuss this – but the sincerity in his voice had you make a U-turn. Perhaps there was no time like present; especially since whenever Steve encountered a problem, he was like a dog with a bone. He’d never let it go and even if he’d allow you to steer the conversation elsewhere, understanding you wanted more space to think about it first, he’d just lie awake all night, the gears in his head turning endlessly. That wasn’t fair; neither to you, nor to him.

You licked your lips, taking a wavering breath.

“I mean… us. This. Is it--- is it something I do? Something to make you uncomfortable?” you asked in a hushed whisper, Steve’s eyes now growing wide as saucers. “Or is it that we’ve been friends for too long? Do you—can you even--- see me as-“

Unsure how to finish your thought, you gestured vaguely along your body, nearly slapping his hand still resting on your hip in the process.

Steve’s watched you intently, clueless, seemingly wanting to ask twenty different questions about everything you just said, because you explained nothing. He settled at the most obvious thing.

“See you as…?” he raised his low voice into a question and you bit your cheek, embarrassment eating up all your words.

See you as a woman? Too vague. As an object of desire? Steve would not have it, you even implying you could be an object, even if that was just how the collocation went. A romantic partner wasn’t quite cutting it, a fuck buddy wasn’t the correct term and a set of holes, now that was just unnecessarily crude. Asking him if he ever wanted to sleep with you or have sex with you just sounded basic and blunt and his eyes was still roaming your face and-

Oh.

You could tell the exact millisecond the synapses in the beautiful brain of his sent the signal one to another to create the right image you were trying to paint so clumsily. You could tell because his eyebrows jumped high for a brief moment, before his expression changed into one of intense focus—oh god.

“Wait, so… let me clear something up. You are asking about why I don’t push further in our physical relationship?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, victorious and little desperate at once because there was no going back now. Courage, Jones. Like ripping off a band-aid. “Well… I guess I’m kinda asking—and this sounds awful, but is it you or is it me? Because I’m fine with slow!” Kinda. “I’m just--- we always start and then we stop and I… I can’t but wonder the stopping part is because of something I do, or something we are or have been, or if you feel… pressured into something you don’t want to do or… something…”

You trailed off, voice growing smaller and smaller under his searching gaze as did your vast vocabulary, until you couldn’t bear it and averted his eyes, pretending to find the way his navy-blue shirt contrasted against the creamy couch incredibly fascinating.

You were granted full five seconds before Steve decided – as you knew he eventually would – that he wouldn’t have it. The pads of his fingers applied the tinniest pressure to your chin, guiding you to look back at him; your eyes stubbornly stayed on the buttons of his shirt, until his thumb brushed over your swollen lower lip and your gaze met his at last.

“Sparkles… do you think that I don’t want you?” he asked slowly, so brilliantly baffled that your first instinct was to deny it.

“No! Of course not! It’s not that-- I mean--- I don’t- I don’t know…?”

His eyes softened, regret lacing the warm blue of his irises and you felt the suffocating weight in your lungs grow. Oh no. He pitied you. He thought you were an idiot and an oversensitive hysterical woman he had not signed up to date and you really needed to stop straddling him at least-

“Would you stop trying to get away from me, woman,” Steve huffed exasperatedly, his hands on your shoulder and hip growing firmer again. Not an unescapable cage, because your boyfriend was considerate to a fault, but tight enough to signal how much he wanted you to stay. Until he opened his mouth and made you want to climb out of his lap straight onto the floor in hopes for the carpet to swallow you. “Well, I admit, that is a little absurd--- stay where you are. Please. This is important, we need to talk about this.”

Fine. Fine. You stuck your chin up, crossing your arms on your chest, making Steve drop his hands to his sides. You only barely missed the way Steve’s lips twitched at your defiant gesture and sudden attitude.

You had to give it to him, however – you were much calmer. Somehow, he had managed to steer the tone of the conversation towards the way you usually communicated and despite the absolutely horrid topic of discussion, your insecurity and fear fell quiet, remaining nothing but a whisper in the very back of your mind.

“Okay, Mr. That Is A Little Absurd. Then how is it that you joked about leaving a mark just about anywhere almost a month ago and we didn’t make it past a hickey on my neck where marks are concerned and you never let me…” you paused, licking your lips, thinking about an appropriate way to address the issue of you having been the only to get off so far, “…touch you?”

A sad smile passed over his lips; this time, it was him who briefly lowered his gaze as if bashful.

“Well, you once said that my recklessness is in direct proportion with my ability to heal and… maybe you were a little right.” You couldn’t help it – your eyebrows arched, which didn’t seem to faze him, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “But not with you, Sparkles. I can’t afford to be reckless with you.”

You gulped, defiance leaving you in an instant, your heart touched by the display of vulnerability. But at the same time, you were completely at loss as to what on Earth he could mean by that.

He couldn’t be honestly afraid of accidentally getting you pregnant; for one, you knew for a fact Steve would handle the situation like a man and a champ, and for two, despite what Tony thought, the man out of time was well-aware of contraceptives, you were friends for long enough to know that. However, not being careful about that was about as far as your imagination went when associating the words reckless and sex.

“Reckless how?” you questioned softly, frowning as the gears in your brain turned and turned.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only after… that.”

Say what.

“GG, I would never think that of you,” you chuckled incredulously, thinking for a moment that he was making up a bullshit excuse – except his face was perfectly serious and he shrugged, nothing but sincerity written in his expression.

“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s not like that never happens, is it?”

Oh.

The memory hit you with surprising force and clarity – one of the rare off nights for the Avengers Steve insisted you should come for, maybe four, five months ago, plenty of alcohol and a silly game of truth or dare. It was Tony’s turn--- no Clint’s and you had picked a truth.

‘Aaalright, Johny-Jones, tell us about… your nemesis. Past or now—present. Go.’

It had taken you a minute and since you had apparently not been allowed to get philosophical and say that your nemesis was yourself at times, you picked Ryan. You both had been FBI in training and you had been an idiot, blinded by the fact a handsome guy whom you had sometimes competed against actually wanted you. You had thought it had been about passion; and in a way it had. Two weeks later, the night he had got his dick wet – you remembered now, that had been the exact phrase you used during the Avengers game night – he had been out of the door and then bragged about it, laughing in your face at any chance he had got. By the blessings of karma, he had had little to brag about when he had later failed psych eval necessary to sign up for the Profiling 101 course. You, on the other hand, had got in, never having to see that jerk again.

Only now when Steve indirectly pointed it out, you recalled that your GG had seemed to be particularly protective over you for the rest of the night and for the weeks that had followed.

Because he was always there, ready to defend you, to protect you from harm; should it be inflicted by others or himself.

Suddenly, your eyes burned for a different reason, your stomach tight with emotion as sweet as heavy. In the back of your mind, you cursed Ryan, the insignificant asshole of a man, for creeping into your life years later and adding to the small crisis in your current relationship. Relationship that was nothing like the one with him. It would have never even crossed your mind that Steve could be after getting his dick wet in your honey pot; the idea was more than just a little absurd considering the man you knew he was. But his supersoldier brain with eidetic memory worried it might have – because it had happened to you before.

He watched you for long moments, patiently letting you process. You didn’t know whether to kiss him senseless or smack some sense into him, because how could he even think that was an issue? Just about everything he had ever done for you without a promise of anything more than friendship solidified the notion of him being ridiculously virtuous long time ago. You knew in your very core that he was a good man.

Your man.

“Steve…”

“I don’t… I didn’t say that to be jerk. I just… I want to make you feel good and I want you to know you’re more to me than that. And I want to make sure I give before I take.”

Sweet mother of-

­“Oh GG, but you’re already doing that, always! And-” You gulped, unable to say the word sex for some reason. “And it’s not always that I, uhm, I give you one and you give me one back and vice versa. It’s about making each other feel good, giving what the other needs… right? Making them feel loved.”

Look at you, suddenly being a relationship expert when you couldn’t get your shit together for the past few days.

Steve’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair, regret returning to his eyes.

“I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want you,” he whispered, fingertips brushing along your jaw, stopping an inch from your lips. “I do. You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. The things I’d do for you, to you. I just… and you’re you. You’re perfect.”

If your heart skipped a beat at the implication of what he wanted to do to you, heat filled your cheeks when he even suggested you might be perfect even as you barely held back a snort.

Perfect. Right.

“I am most definitely not.”

But Steve just tilted his head to side, the charming bastard, that expressive blue of his eyes telling you not to dare and argue about how he apparently saw you.

Perfect.

It was just a stupid word, but damn, talk about pressure. It was a little hard to live up to the image when you were on a pedestal and maybe you had felt that too. Just another reason for why you didn’t exactly push Steve into crossing the line – because if you were being honest with yourself, even though Steve wasn’t the perfect human being, he was perfect for you and you wouldn’t want him to be disappointed when you’d get to be together that way. It was entirely reasonable for him to feel the same.

You could understand if he was worried about living up to expectations. You could understand if he wanted to make it perfect for you too. You could understand why he latched onto the thought of some lowlife who had once made you feel like you were nothing but a piece of meat and wanted to make sure you never had to feel like that ever again.

Tears welled up in your eyes, your breathing wavering. If you weren’t feeling like suffocating under the devastating affection behind Steve’s words, you’d scream in frustration, because you could have got this out of the way weeks ago, if you just communicated like two adults.

“It doesn’t help that I’m strong and sometimes I fail to be in control of that hundred percent,” Steve added, quickly following up when he saw you wanted to protest. “And I know you know that, just like you know I’d never want to hurt you, but if I get lost in you… I might. I never felt the way about anyone, not like I do with you, Sparkles.”

Overwhelmed by the direction the conversation took, into a perhaps strange, but possibly one of the most thoughtful declarations of love, it slowly dawned to you – much to your brief annoyance – that JJ had been right, again.

‘And what do you think are the chances that he feels just the same? I’d bet he thinks you’re the best damn woman and he really really doesn’t want to fuck it up either…’

You were two peas in a pot who ultimately just wanted for the other to be happy and comfortable but somehow forgot to mention it.

“So you… basically, you don’t want me to feel pressured, just like I don’t want you to feel pressured and you don’t want to hurt me and I don’t want to hurt you?” you piped up, earning a lopsided sad smile. “You just don’t want to mess it up just like I do?”

“Looks like.”

You let your forehead hit his lightly and he met you halfway, your eyelids sliding shut. Relief flooded your system in equal measure with exasperation, wining over just by nose.

“God, GG, we’re both idiots.”

His breathy chuckle tickled your face, his hands cradling your head. “Yeah… but you’re my idiot. Beautiful, considerate idiot-- no, all but the idiot part. You’re brilliant, Sparkles.”

You huffed, opening your eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at you – as if he meant every word.

“Beg to differ, but anyway. Pot, kettle.”

Steve smiled, his nose gently caressing yours before he retreated an inch. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I do want you,” he emphasized, no farther than a breath from your lips. “So much.”

“Noted. And… ditto.”

“And I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, “that’d be nice, that sounds really-”

You never got to finish your sentence, silenced by his lips. You didn’t think you ever had been happier about someone not letting you say your part, never felt so calm despite excitement bursting in your chest. You were in Steve’s loving arms and he wanted you – there was nothing in the world you weren’t going to work through, let alone such small bump on the road.

You revelled in the taste of his smile and in the way his palm warmed your thigh even through your jeans. Parting your lips and yielding to his gentle advances with a sigh, all tension melted from your body, having you slide lower in his lap and catch yourself against his firm chest. A pleased rumble vibrated under your palms, large hand splaying over your back to press you closer to him even as the kiss grew more demanding, your pliant body bending backwards to accommodate Steve’s strength. His free hand gripped at the base of your neck to keep you still, a surge of arousal and confidence straight to your veins and muscles, nerves set on pleasant fire. You sunk your fingers into his hair again, body wrapping around his.

It had to be what he was waiting for, because a second later your found yourself in the air, clinging to Steve’s torso as his arm moved under your ass and hauled you up. The silent yelp of surprise was drowned in his mouth, your stomach flipping as you instinctively locked your ankles around his middle. You couldn’t care less where he carried you as long as he kept kissing you like that, but the direction he was heading was unmistakable.

At least you thought so until your back met the wall, eliciting a gasp from your lips, the bed flashing in the corner of your vision several feet too far. Your fingers dug into Steve’s bicep, clutching in his hair, heat pooling in your core. Oh god.

Oh the countless times you fantasized about this. Steve pinning you to the wall in a show of strength unmatched to another man, radiating heat and grabbing you like he couldn’t get close enough, tongue licking into your mouth as if he wished he could explore the depths of your soul and suck it right out of you.

The breathy ‘Steve’ when he retreated half an inch had to sound downright pornographic but you didn’t give a damn, because he wanted you, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… right?

“You tell me if I do anything you don’t want or like?” he demanded, wording it like an order rather than a question, but your brain searched for a hidden meaning anyway, overanalysing even as you were slipping into kiss-drunken slumber.

You tell me. Anything you don’t like.

You shook your head, an echo of doubt guiding your fingers to cover Steve’s mouth and push him away.

Getting a first look on him ever since he lifted you, your mouth went positively dry despite the mouth-watering sight he made; his pupils were like smouldering coal and as much as you loved seeing soft affection in his eyes, you never wanted him to look at you any different that this ever again. He looked like he could eat you alive and have you begging for more. Even if his brows furrowed momentarily.

Focus, focus, Jones, you had an important thought.

“GG, wait. Don’t do this because you feel like you need to prove me something. We have time and we’ll figure it out, we… we can wait.”

HIs concern melted away, forehead narrowing, a sweet smile forming under your fingers before a kiss made you withdraw your hand and shut up.

His smile turned baffled – and then dangerous.

“That’s… really not why I want to do this,” he assured you, his voice dripping of amusement and something deliciously dark.

“Oh really?” you retorted, cheeky and unimpressed, ignoring (not) your position. “Because you never rise to a challenge.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Sparkles…” he muttered, shaking his head and huffing a silent laugh that quickly turned devious when his body pressed against you so firmly that his hands completely released your body and you whimpered a silent oh my god because that was just his hips holding you against the wall and it should be scary but instead you just felt a shudder run up your spine knowing he would never drop you but that was the sheer weight of his body pinning you to the wall and you could probably let go of the death grip on his shoulders and waist and you still wouldn’t fall.

Those ridiculously warm hands of his cradled your face as you panted and licked your lips, Steve’s eyes flickering down to follow the movement and then stealing your breath altogether with a soft kiss that was everything you could want and yet not even close to what you needed. Your eyes slipped close but you could imagine what the scene looked like; you could feel his gaze on you, watching you with affection and heat, like something precious and his. And his you were, absolutely, he had no idea-

Wait, he was talking, he was trying to make a point--- what had you been talking about?

“Do you have any idea how long…“ he spoke directly to your mouth, one hand slipping lower, the pad of his thumb petting the hollow of your throat lovingly, leaving you unable to stiffen the moan bubbling right under his touch, “-how much I wanted this? Wanted you?”

“Steve-“

“I don’t want to ‘do this’ because it’s some challenge for me. Do you want to know why I do though?” he whispered, lips straying from yours, tracing the line of your jaw, hand sliding down your waist to your thigh as whoever was in control of your body had you nod frantically, earning a smile against your neck. “I want to do this to you because you loved being on the winning team today. So damn cheeky, enjoying getting one up on me.”

You giggled at the truth of his words, the sound turning breathy when Steve’s teeth nipped on your pulse point, your hips bucking forward despite having no space to do so in search for friction. Steve’s fingers flexed on your thigh at the futile attempt, a hiss escaping his lips when you tried to wiggle against his hard-on.

“I want you because there were so many guys just gawking at you tonight, but you were looking at me and you looked like you wanted me too.”

“I did—I do,“ you breathed out, all doubts and insecurities forgotten.

He was making very compelling arguments and the fleeting idea that this could have been some act of simply proving a point was long gone, poured down the drain of absurdity. Forget about that. You needed Steve. You needed him to do something, anything more than this and you needed it now.

“And then you kissed me like no one was watching, but I knew about every single jerk looking our direction wishing they were in my place.”

“Oh yeah, tons of them, I bet-“ you muttered sarcastically, but somehow, with his nimble fingers sneaking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap back lightly, your words sounded more like a confirmation when you whimpered.

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, you were sure he was going to make you come just like that, with his words, his hands on your body and his tongue licking at your collarbone.

Jesus Christ-

“Uh-huh. I want you because these damn jeans leave nothing to imagination but I imagined what you’re wearing under them anyway. And my head is fuckin’ full of your perfume I want to taste it as it clings to your skin when you wear absolutely nothing and I want to still smell it when you wear my shirt the morning after.”

Yes, yes, you wanted that too, like yesterday was too late already-

“I want you because that little dance of yours had me so fucking hard I almost took you right there in front of everyone.”

“GG, stop talking and kiss me,” you begged him because truly, truly, you were convinced, utterly and unchangeably, now if he could just get to it and sooth the liquid fire your insides turned into, that would be just wonderful. A+ for his dirty talk, but-

He ignored your plea, glancing up, eyes hungry, lips swollen and impossibly red when he smirked.

“I want you because you make me imagine doing things that are everything but gentle,” he corrected you darkly, fingertips tracing the soft skin of your breast just under the cut of your shirt, tickly in the most delicious way. “Some punk kid at the bar tried to touch your ass today and I wanted to break his hand. Six days ago, at your first full training after recovery, Rodriguez held nothing back despite his instruction and I had to send Natasha to deal with him because I would have broken his hand, I’d rip it right fucking off because he hurt you.”

Through the fog of arousal, you recalled the training in question. Rodriguez had got you in the ribs good, even if you had barely felt it the next day. Steve had been furious, but he always was; even as your friend he had hated seeing you hurt, it was one of the things that both warmed your heart and made the butterflies in your stomach flip their wings like crazy, made your core throb long before you professed your love to each other, even if a completely different way than he was doing it now.

All his admissions made for a tremble in your muscles, a race in your heart; he was whispering his sins into your skin as if your body was a confessional and with every kiss he was asking for absolution. A thoroughly good man asking absolution for his wrath and lust and greed. Everyone who knew Steve Rogers even in passing knew all about his giving nature – and the way he had your body sing made him seem plenty generous. But his lips, tasting every inch of bare skin and marking his claim, his hands gripping you so hard it bordered on painful, these were nothing short of greedy, as were his words.

“No one touches you. No one hurts you. I want you and I want to do unthinkable things to you, over and over, just so all you know is my name and I want you to say it, whisper it or scream it until you can’t anymore.”

“Steve, please-“

“This is why I want to do this and I want it so much it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane,” he accused you fondly, lips detached from your skin at last as he levelled his face with yours. “It feels impossible to hold back sometimes.”

Here was the frustration joke: you didn’t want him to hold back. You were left breathless, speechless, molten lava coursing through your veins and the sight of him, face flushed, pupils blown wide, his breaths coming out short only fed your unbearable hunger. You could almost feel him tremble against you and you knew it wasn’t from the strain of holding you up against the wall – it was from the effort not to snap.

How he wasn’t fucking you six ways into Sunday already and managed to keep composure after everything he just confessed to was beyond you. And he was still talking, a raspy warning that had the opposite effect than intended – because instead of wanting to put the fire out, you wanted to pour gasoline all over it.

“This is how I want you and how much I want you. But I must not scare you away, Sparkles. You’re too important. I need you to say yes, I need you to tell me you want this too and I need you to promise me to tell me to stop if I go too far.”

Oh you could tell him yes and make all the promises he wanted. As soon as you’d find your voice. As soon as you’d figure where the gasoline and matches were.

“I don’t scare easily, Steve,” you whispered, a sound so choked one would think you he already had you scream his name over and over.

Licking your lips, you willed your fingers to pet the soft material of his shirt as it strained over his shoulders, a minute tremble in them as you undid the first button. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he stood tall, endlessly patient. The self-control on the man. You couldn’t wait to push just a little more to see it burn to dust.

“And if I ever get afraid, I have you to protect me, don’t I?” you taunted, undoing the second button, then the third, leaning in to kiss the newly exposed skin, a faint taste of sweat on your tongue.

You barely bit back a smile as his chest expanded with a rapid inhale. You loved the effect you had on him, your words – however true – intentionally playing into the role of a protector you knew was important to him and made him preen.

“You’d never let anyone hurt me. I trust you.”

With the fourth button, you found yourself with not enough space to continue. That was fine. You kissed your way up his sternum over the hollow of his throat until you found his lips, parted, hot and eager to receive – a kiss, another compliment. You let your hands appreciate the expanse of his chest, his biceps, his broad shoulders; you weren’t sure if the moan came from you or him. Maybe both.

“I know you would never hurt me, not for a lack of strength… but you can use that strength too. I won’t break, unless it’s for you,” you promised, whispering straight to his lips, satisfied at the groan it drew from his throat. “I want you to do everything you want to do to me.”

“Sparkles…”

You withdrew as much as the wall behind you allowed, taking care to look directly in his dark eyes. You hoped you spoke with conviction – and enough of an innocent smile, even if on the inside, you were smirking.

“And I know I’m more to you than a piece of meat. You’re nothing like… them. You’re a good man, Steve, a smart man. My man… my Captain.”

The last one was a stretch, a bold guess based on loose observation; you held your breath in anticipation as three long seconds of silent stillness followed, your words sinking in.

But then, the effect was immediate.

Steve’s body slammed into yours with ferocity that knocked the wind out of you, a movement so fierce you were worried you might crash through the wall straight into the next room. His mouth slanted over yours with a beautiful animalistic sound, an unapologetic claim with no regard of giving before taking. A bruising grip on your thighs, a minute retreat of his hips just so he could rock them back against your drenched core, having you clench around nothing and wishing for a breath just so you could beg to have something in there instead.

Your futile attempt to speak up was cut off by a nip of teeth on your lower lip, Steve long fingers stretching over your ass to press mere inches from your lower lips and making you keen in relief and need.

“You just fucking love pushing my buttons, don’t you,” he grunted, his other hand sneaking under your blouse and squeezing your ribs on the side of your breast.

Not giving you a chance to confirm nor deny, he claimed dominance over your mouth again as soon as you breathed in.

The tips of his fingers were barely touching you where you craved him, but with every second you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, gasping when the pressure suddenly disappeared, a chuckle rambling in his chest pressing against your breasts.

“Oh no you don’t.”

His hands settled on your waist, firm, lips moving to your ear, nipping on your earlobe. “You know me so damn well, sweetheart. But guess what… if you think you can play me as you wish, think again.”

The sound you made couldn’t have been human, a frustrated whimper and a plea. Your whole body was on fire, melting like butter and sinking into his rich honey-like voice wrapping your senses in the delicious threat that followed.  

“‘Cause I don’t know you nearly well enough so I’m gonna take my sweet time learning about every inch of your body and every little thing that makes you sing before I give you what you need.”

Your head spun with a rapid movement – around and backwards you thought – the support behind your back gone for a moment and then suddenly there was no support at all. You couldn’t fly for longer than a second but you yelped anyway, the sound drowned in the cushions of the bed you safely landed in.

“GG!”

Vice-like grips on your ankles and you were being pulled until your legs hung down the bed and a hot wet kiss was pressed under your belly button, blouse racked up to your rapidly rising and falling chest.

Holy fucking shit, you weren’t sure what the hottest part of this was – the show of strength, the safety you felt despite the insanity he just pulled off, or the fact he was literally kneeling between your legs and his dextrous fingers already undid the button and the fly of your jeans and were working their way up your ribcage, exploring just as eagerly as his mouth. Your back arched under his touch when his teeth grazed just under the hem of your bra, providing him with the perfect opportunity to undo the clasps and push the offending piece of clothing out of the way.

You felt like you were about to explode any second, but Steve, while eager, was in no rush. He was like a reverent believer finally discovering the temple of the only god he ever worshipped for the first time. The way his hand supported your shoulder blades as he nuzzled your breast, nosing his way over the sensitive skin and licking at the peeked nipple filled you with impatience, pride and affection at once.

You had a non-selfish lover before, but you had never experienced something more sensual than this. You had never had a man make love to your body. Steve treated it as a piece of art and under his touch, you felt like a damn masterpiece.

He didn’t have to ask you to get rid of what stood in his way, but he appreciated the newly exposed skin with a pleased hum despite the clumsy way you managed to strip your tops with; pressing a little harder, sucking the flesh of your breast with enough fervour to leave a mark.

The oh my god, Steve- left your lips as a whine. Your limp hands found purchase of his hair, pulling him up to steal a kiss from those sinful lips. He followed willingly, stretching his body over yours, catching himself on his hand – but your felt the brush of his rock-hard cock against your core anyway and your hips tilted up, searching for the much-needed friction.

He groaned into the filthy kiss, his uncompromising hand pushing your hip back into the cushions.

“Steeve-“

Screw taking his sweet time. You felt like crying from how he worshipped you but some of the suffocating sensation most definitely stemmed from the sheer frustration of not being fucked into the mattress relentlessly yet. You released his hair in order to work the buttons of his damn shirt, barely managing to undo them with your shaky fingers, sighing in bliss when you got to touch the hot skin of his abdomen you drooled over for almost two years now.

“I want you so damn much-“ he whispered to your lips before he freed you, mouth tracing a hot path down your throat and sternum, lower and lower, fingertips trailing behind as the desperate words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Then take me.”

The loveable bastard smiled, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your jeans, nimble fingers slipping under the denim and finally ridding you of the atrocious piece of clothing you were sure must have been soaked through at this point too. Regretfully, his touch disappeared so he could strip the jeans fully but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make as long as it moved things forward.

Much like when he had helped you lose your shoes the day you were released form the med bay four weeks ago, his red-hot palm cradled your calf. Except this time, a kiss landed just above your knee, coaxing your legs apart with the lightest pressure, muttering into your skin as he torturously slowly made his way up.

“Loved you for so long, imagined having you in so many ways…” he groaned, almost pained, and you couldn’t but glance at him, all curses you ever known on your tongue but none on them making it out as you white-knuckled the sheets.

The sight of Steve between your spread legs was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t imagine a better way to go except maybe if he touched you where you needed him the most before you went.

“Anything-” you choked out. Everything. He was mere three inches from your dripping centre and you were ready to sell your soul to the Devil for him to just move.

You didn’t have any brain space left to be self-conscious about him inhaling the heady aroma of your sex, not when the burning gaze you had met settled on his prize with unabashed hunger.

“God, look at you, you’re dripping for me. Gonna love on you, Sparkles…”

“Yes, please-“

He chuckled, the huff of hot air teasing your core over the useless fabric of your underwear. “Look at you, you little tease, so polite all of sudden…”

You didn’t get as much as a second to call him a smug bastard; with one sharp tug, your panties were gone and the tip of his tongue dipped into your soaked lips. His moan vibrated through your whole body, echoing the cry of his name.

“Steve-”

“Fuck, sweetheart-“ was all he said before he dived in deep, pushing your legs further apart to accommodate his broad shoulders.

His nose bumped into your oversensitive clit, his tongue gathering your essence off your lips before pushing between them and making you back out from the sensual assault even as you didn’t know whether you wanted to escape or lean into it. The forearm suddenly laying over your hips prevented you from either and left you with no option but to take it – even if it should kill you.

So be it. You could make peace with such fate.

Grabbing after Steve’s hair, you reached the starry highs embarrassingly fast with no more than one finger in pressing just right and Steve’s lips sucking on your clit – and a sob vaguely resembling his name on your lips.

Your body shook with the aftershocks as your lover licked at every drop, easing the pressure on your belly to let you ride it out. Your ears were still ringing when the first of his whispers crept into your consciousness, a husky voice full of affection, pads of his thumbs drawing soothing circles above your hipbones.

“Beautiful, so beautiful… always so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Your vision was blurry as you stared at the ceiling, panting, heart hammering as if you just fought off an army of mercenaries. Steve’s soft lips travelled up your body, leaving a sticky trail in their wake, lingering anywhere they deemed fit.

His messy hair appeared in your vision first, a kiss landing on your jaw. You still couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, coming down from the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced.

Until a delighted chuckle reached your ears, your gaze focusing on Steve’s dark gaze shining with thousand stars.

“Oh, is this a way to shut your smart mouth, Sparkles?”

Shut my brain, more like, you wanted to say, but the only thing you managed was a small grumble, a blissed-out sound too tiny to have him believe you were mad. As if you could ever be mad at him for that.

“GG-“

He chuckled again, leaning in to kiss your lips, gentle at first, until you moaned at the bittersweet tang of your own juices and his fingers tangled in your damp hair, his warm weight covering you like a blanket. You were surprised when you felt two hot tears roll down your temples into your hair – and you weren’t the only one.

Steve freed your lips with a wet pop, his flushed face full of concern.

“You good?”

You huffed a laugh, blinking frantically as to stop more tears from coming.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not that it was that bad it made me cry-” you teased him lightly, chest so full of feeling you were no longer surprised your body needed to release the pressure somehow. “But also don’t let it go into your head too much-“

Steve shut your smart mouth again, clearly reassured, his lips tasting of victory and pride this time. You couldn’t really hold it against him – he literally gave you an orgasm so good it made you cry.

And you still wanted more.

He already gave and now it was time to take, but he sure had made it feel like you weren’t the only one receiving when he was giving. It was sweet. It was empowering. It made you feel thoroughly loved, even if he was still being a little shit.

You grabbed the opportunity to finally appreciate his toned stomach, revelling in the sensation of his muscles shifting under your palms, one of your hands moving to give some attention to his pectorals too.

He liked that, if the small sound in the back of his throat and the breath of your name was anything to go by. It was the perfect prompt to explore further. And boy, you did.

His body was downright unreal. Yet never had anything felt so real as the warm humming power under your touch, smooth and slightly damp skin stretching over the delicious dips and valleys, rising with every inhale. You doubted you’d let you have your time with him now – he felt heavy and hard against your belly, so much it had to be painful, and his mouth kept your own busy enough – but soon, you’d trace the same lines your fingers were drawing on his chiselled torso with your tongue instead and then would move onto his biceps, grazing the prominent vein leading down his arm with your teeth.

The prospect fuelled your arousal, impatient hands sliding under the opened shirt into his sleeves, pushing at the fabric, whining upon feeling his bulging biceps. Those were the arms that held you against the wall. Those were the arms that tossed you around like you were nothing. Those were the arms that would rip apart anyone who’d try to hurt you.

“Get this damn thing off,” you cursed, for the first time realizing you were there lying completely naked and Steve had at least three pieces of unnecessary clothing still on.

He obliged with a hum, breaking your kiss as he balanced himself on his knees instead of his forearms. You took advantage of his momentary occupied hands and of the sudden space to take initiative, palming the prominent bulge straining the seams of his jeans. The most beautifully broken groan was your reward; you couldn’t wait to hear it again, making a quick work of unbuckling his belt before his infamous supersoldier reflexes could even kick in, his hands still tangled in his shirt. Once freed, he cradled your face and pressed your back to the bed with renewed eagerness.

You were fine with one hand on his bare skin and the other pushing his jeans down, all that while his tongue tangled with yours. You were still an agent; one feeling a little boneless after orgasmic high, but still a very efficient AI agent. You could multitask. If Steve overwhelmed all your senses, hot and throbbing in your hand, his cologne and the tang of sex and sweat filling your nostrils, his choked moan echoing in your ears once you freed him, you were more than able to process all that at once too.

In fact, the head of his cock nudging at your slit was the perfect cherry on top of it all the sensations and he seemed to agree. Until he realized it all felt all too good and retreated with a curse.

“Wait, love, I have to-“

You shook your head and pulled him back for another kiss. You were covered, so to speak and honestly you had no other protection at hand and the mere notion of stopping now was unthinkable. Honestly the fact he said I have to, taking the responsibility on himself, was the last touch to your decision.

“Pill. Clean. Please.” Just fill me.

His lust-filled eyes roamed your face for long seconds, whatever argument happening in his head cut off when you let your fingers curl around his length and pumped him, thumb stroking over the leaking head of his cock.

“Yeah, okay-- God- THAT.”

You grinned to yourself smugly, angling your hips for him to slide in. You were still so wet for him you knew it wouldn’t be an issue – even if his grith certainly would be a challenge and maybe you were going to regret your hastiness tomorrow… today.

Or not at all.

He went slow. Shallow languid thrusts, sweetened by deep kisses and praise spilling from his lips, giving way with a gently tightening knot in your belly instead of pain. Fingers interlaced with yours next to your head, drinking gasps and moans of pleasure from each other’s’ lips. A voiceless fuck give me a moment, you’re so tight, I can’t-, a glorious view of Steve’s face contorted in pleasure and reverence.

‘I love you’ whispered straight to your mouth once he settled all way in, filling you up to a point you thought you’d combust and thank him for it.

“Love you, GG. I didn’t mean to push you.”

You had no clue why you said that, but Steve didn’t give you a chance to panic, a breathy laugh shaking his chest, nose nudging yours. The image would be magnificent at any given time, but the circumstance gave the it an intimate aura of a secret thing shared between you two only.

“You only push my buttons all the time,” he hushed you, causing you to chuckle and whimper when he experimentally moved back and forth, clearly deeming you ready – and by lord, were you ready, every drag of his length nothing short of delicious, stoking the fire in your belly. “And please notice I participate pretty enthusiastically--- fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You noticed.

You appreciated the hell out of every ounce of self-control Steve had shown just a few minutes ago in order not to hurt you – but seeing the cracks in foundation opening and releasing the same man who pinned you to the wall was a hypnotic sight. His gentle touch morphing into grasps and squeezes, soft kisses and encouragement blending into claims and filthy praise. Arms having created a sense of safety wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place, fingers clutching at your hair not to hurt but to prevent you from escaping his advances. Flesh slapping flesh with every thrust, his pubic bone brushing your clit. The rubber band tightening in your belly threatening to snap with every word whispered gravely to your skin, to your mouth.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to be mine-”

“I am. Always yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking when his hand slipped under the small of your back, the change of angle making you stifle a moan, nails digging into his biceps.

“Damn right. Will keep you like this all night, take you over and over until you can’t think of anything else but my name and how it feels when I fill you up…”

As he rose to his knees, making you prop up on your heels, thighs shaky with exertion, you were more than grateful for his support; more so since your bones felt as if they have turned into molasses at this point.

“All night, every night. Every day, every fucking chance we get,” he promised feverishly.

The moan that spilled from your lips was obscene, but so were Steve’s words.

In a forgotten rational part of your brain, you understood what he had meant by scaring you off – thinking this would be too much. But damn, your lust-drunk mind had never heard a better idea in your life—this, this, you wanted more, you wanted everything he said. You needed him to break you just to put you together again, because you were his, his, his and you wanted him to claim you just like this, unapologetically, brushing the depths of you with every stroke, making you ache for him long before, during and long after--- you’d never get enough.

“Oh you want that?” he hummed with wicked glee as he felt you clench around him, fingers quick to gather your slick and circle your oversensitive bundle of nerves, rippling a mindless cry of please from your throat. “You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Steve--- so close-”

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Never ceasing the attention to your clit or his frantic thrusts, Steve’s burning palm laid over your belly in a silent claim – and you were done for.

Chanting his name over and over as he rode it out with you, you almost missed the string of curses under his breath, his pace growing erratic, his hold on your turning bruising.

“Shit, doll, that’s it, that’s it--- fuck, look at you.”

Your walls fluttered around him again. Eyes snapping wide open, you caught him in a moment of utter bliss, crimson lips parted with a guttural moan of your name, messy hair sticking to his forehead, that unreal body having gone rigid as he spilled inside of you, nothing but small frantic motions of his hips as he prolonged his pleasure. With you. In you. You did that.

This was an image and feeling you’d remember forever – and planned to relive it many, many times to come.

A barely noticeable tremble to his muscles – you did that, the pleasure with you rendered a supersoldier boneless – he slowly, oh so slowly pulled out with a whimper on your part. You felt his seed spill down your sensitive lips as he lowered your almost limp body to the mattress, biting back another sound when the feeling sent a pleasant shudder up your spine.

Eyes fluttering open, Steve’s gaze trailed over your spent body before settling on your face, charming an exhausted but utterly satisfied smile for you. Stretching his warm body over yours, your hands instantly finding purchase of his broad shoulders, he graced you with a soft kiss to your lips, fingers carding through your hair. That was definitely a thing for him – and you couldn’t complain; you only catalogued it for a future reference, sighing contentedly into his mouth, appreciating the firm expanse of his back under your palms, the brush of rock-solid thighs against yours.

Your breath hitched when your brain registered another very solid part of his body, the small sound having Steve release your lips.

“Are you okay?” he fussed sweetly, your momentarily broken mind unable to appreciate the sentiment.

That’s not possible. That’s not how-

Your throat, already hoarse from crying Steve’s name repeatedly, turned sand-paper dry – or at least your choked voice sounded as if it did. You clenched your hand into fist to stop the urge to check what your mind had trouble to comprehend.

“GG, are you still…?“

Steve whole body radiated unnatural warmth more than usual already – but his face turned into a furnace as his forehead rested against yours, eyes closing.

“Serum. Not still… again,” he admitted reluctantly, having your racing heart skip a startled and giddy beat. Your body went stiff.

Oh. Okay. Right, right, right- That was fine. That realization didn’t feel like someone just rearranged your guts and had tingles run through your whole body. The prospect of this absolute god of a man ,who had got you off in ways all your past lovers combined could never, being able to do it all over again did not short-circuit all your rational thoughts. At all.

Steve most definitely misinterpreted your stunned silence as something else than positively horny.

“Just… give me a moment,” he muttered almost apologetically, loving lips pressing to your mouth, then your forehead. “I’ll get something to clean us up in a minute.”

Yeah, no.

Licking your lips, you feasted your eyes on Steve’s worn features, fingers sliding to down his hair to scratch soothingly at his nape. Bashful smile appeared on his lips, briefly brushing yours before he went to rise from the position on his elbows.

You were quick to wrap your leg around his gloriously pulp ass, his eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Stay a little longer?” you offered softly, heart racing against your ribcage as your plan to seduce him again slowly formed in your head. “If that’s okay… please?”

“I’m whipped, aren’t I,” he chuckled breathily, but obliged, earning a bright smile from you and kiss on his nose that made him laugh feebly, the lines of his abs and his hardness brushing against your stomach, enticing you to let your fingers wander.

Wander over the solid strings of muscle on his back, over his shoulders, that damn vein on his arm just calling out for you, over his ribcage expanding quicker and quicker with every passing second of your tender exploration.

“You’re a damn piece of art,” you whispered, biting back a moan when you reached the sinfully defined V-line, wrist accidentally skimming over his still very hard length.

A small shift of weight and Steve’s fingers locked firmly around your wrist, gentle warning written all over his face. You looked up at him, shuddering in excitement as you recognized he saw right through you. Yet, he didn’t protest when your free hand slid down his torso and you strained your neck to touch your lips where you could reach, to the sharp edge of his jaw.

“Sparkles…”

His chest rumbled with the single word, bringing a smile to your face as you used the hook you still had around his leg to push your hips up.  

“Yes, love?”

His fingers tightened around your hand, his expression hardening – but you could see it. You could see the absolute glee behind his irises, the dark satisfaction at the fact he was not the only one insatiable. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had enough.

And some very, very primal part of his brain roared upon the realization. Conveniently precisely the part you wanted to unleash now that you had got a very thorough taste what Steve was like in bed. If he wanted to keep you there for the rest of your days, you were absolutely on board.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he warned, having you licked your lips at the perfect opening for teasing.

“I don’t know, looks like it’s not me who needs to finish… something.”

The deliberately slow drag of your gaze down his body to the very evidence you were referring to was the last straw – or maybe it was the way your fingers stretched to touch the smooth skin of his cock again.

You didn’t even know how you ended up with both your hands pinned next to your head, but suddenly they were there. No pain in the movement – Steve was careful with that still, his thumbs even petting the insides of your wrists – but the glint in his eye was nothing short of dangerous. And it had your sensitive walls flutter around nothing, craving him filling you up again already.  

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it feels exactly like that,” you poked, chin pushed up defiantly, “Captain oh mine.”

The flash in his eyes spoke volumes.

Oh, you had done it now. And you loved it. But the reason why you could afford that, that you loved even more. The way Steve’s searching gaze roamed your face, checking, even if briefly, for any sign of discomfort and only then allowing himself to let loose, appealed more than anything to the last remnants of reason slipping from you. You had no doubt he would ruin your body in the best way; but you trusted him to rebuild it all the same. Playing with fire had never been so safe.

“Hm…” Steve pretended to muse, lips descending to yours, tenderly kissing your lower lip, before his teeth sunk into it and tugged at it, having your breath hitch. “Well, sweetheart, you know that sometimes I do rise to a challenge.”

One of your wrists released, your breathing quickened as Steve’s palm dragged down your side, cupping your ass, fingers dipping into between your tender lower lips again.

“We’ll see who’s gonna need what when I have one of my favourite fantasies played out right in front of me.”

Euphoria exploded behind your eyelids already as two of his fingers scooped his spent and entered you, slowly massaging your most sensitive spot before he scissored them.

“What’s that?” you humoured him, rocking your hips into his generous touch, a soundless oh god escaping you when his thumb flickered over your puffy bundle of nerves.

His mouth slanted over yours in a promise of pleasure, muffling your noise of protest when his thick fingers left you empty again, the smile forming against your previously preoccupied lips menacing.

“You writhing under me, senseless with need, desperate for what only I can give you… which I will… if you ask nicely enough.”

Three fingers slid into you with ease this time, making you cry out as the heel of Steve’s palm pushed against your clit. It was a touch of paradise, a surge of ecstasy to your veins – but you understood now that to truly seize it, you’d have to work and wait and plead. The premise had you trembling with need already.

“And you will, sweetheart. You will.”

Steve Rogers was a man of his word. Stubborn and determined, he delivered on his promise to the last detail. Pushing you right to the edge, only to stop and have you straddle him, have you work for it only to still your hips and steal your breathy cry, a taunting smile against your lips, his long fingers wrapped around wrist whenever you tried to cheat and touch yourself.  

“Anything you need from me, love?” whispered to your mouth, the crack in his voice the only indication he wasn’t all that composed as he wanted you to believe. “I’d love to help. I’d love to see you come undone… you want that too?”

“Was that… a please? I didn’t quite catch that, you know I’m of age…”

A shaky delighted laugh at your pathetic ‘fuck you’ turning into a whimper when you found yourself on your belly all of sudden, fingertips teasing your inner thighs, brushing your lower lips, heady kisses with a devious smile coaxing another plea from you as his weight over you reminded you of how much of an upper hand he had.

The ‘good girl’ sounding a little choked, a testimony of how no matter how delirious he had driven you with pleasure, this was his fantasy played out with in front of his eyes. The ‘I’ll give you anything you ask, Sparkles. Everything. Always.’, fingers interlaced with yours when he finally gave you what you begged for, a reminder that despite the mischief and the indulgent dominance, you were utterly loved.

Broken and rebuilt all at once, exhausted to the point of barely keeping conscious when Steve kissed your shoulder, covering you with the warmth of his body, gently angling your head and whispering to your lips how he loved you, how good you were for him, to him, as if you had just made a terrible sacrifice. Tenderly cleaning you up where you had been joint, a fresh trail of kisses up your spine, bringing a faint smile to your face.

“I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything, love?”

You only grumbled, genuinely too tired to move anything, even your mouth. Steve’s soft laugh was but an echo. You didn’t want to know what time it was – too sated to really care.

“Water and jelly beans maybe?”

You forced to corner of your lips rise higher, willing your voice to form at least a murmur.

“You did not pack jelly beans into your overnight bag,” you hummed.

At Steve’s chuckle and something landing a foot from your face, you cracked an eye open. A goofy smile spread on your lips, even as snacking was the last thing on your mind. This man. You spied a bottle of water in his hand when he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to push damp strand of hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured, gazing up at him with tired fondness, which he wholeheartedly reciprocated. “I’m keeping you.”

His smile turned brighter than the sun, making you close your eyes.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” he said lowly, fingers carding through your hair lovingly, before stroking your cheek. “Come on, Sparkles, gotta get some water into you at least.”

With a huff, you opened your eyes again, trying to regain control of your heavy limbs. He was right, but leaving the soft mattress, more so when you had Steve was right there, didn’t sound appealing.

Brows furrowing, guilt peeking from under his content smile, Steve helped you sit up, cradling your head to his shoulder.

“I’m s-“

Your palm landed on his bare chest with a small smacking sound.

“Don’t you dare, keeper.”

He kissed the top of your head, letting you feel his smile again when you nuzzled into him – comfort, warmth and familiarity.

“Come on, Sparkles. Water, teeth and then sleep,” he negotiated, setting an example as he downed half the bottle, never easing his support to your body. A part of you wanted to complain it was easy for him to say with his serum-boosted stamina, but for one, you didn’t want to be a cry baby, second, you were too blissed out to even think to voice any complaint and third, how could you grumble when your GG was once again so effortlessly nurturing?

He dutifully supported your weight when he seated you on the bathtub to brush your teeth, carried you back to bed, settled you against his chest when you laid down and gave into the exhaustion before you managed to wish him goodnight and he didn’t say a single word of complaint – though maybe he snickered a bit once or twice. Fondly.

Tipping over the edge of consciousness, you thought you felt a kiss on your forehead, a gentle whisper covering you warmly just as you were slipping under. 

“I’m keeping you too.”  

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist  

I’m imagining Sparkles’ phone ringing in the morning to get ready for their brunch with JJ, Will and the kids and Reid - Steve reluctantly picking up instead, when she sleeps like dead. I see him apologizing, claiming you had trouble sleeping. JJ muttering ‘you go girl’ under her breath, but responding with a motherly wannabe worried voice, offering to make it a lunch instead, and self-highfiving the second she ends the call😅 Steve being too content to worry about it and snuggling back to Sparkles 💕

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading and for your feedback!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #former bau agent reader #agent reader #steve rogers fluff #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #love on the brain #no pressure #anika ann

[ynscrazylife]

i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.

Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.

Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.

Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.

You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.

Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.

“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.

For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.

“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.

Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.

Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.

“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.

“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”

Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.

You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.

They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.

“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”

“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.

You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.

“What?” You ask grumpily.

“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.

You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.

“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.

You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.

“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.

“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds hotch #criminal minds

[sreidisms]

Early seasons Reid and with BAU!reader whom just has a HUGE crush on her and Gideon has to spell it out to Spencer? I just love season 1/2 Reid. Him in glasses just makes me swoon ❤️

THIS IS SO CUTE, like it's so probable too. I didn't understand if you meant that Gideon had to spell out that Spencer likes the reader or that the reader likes Spencer, so I went with the former. If you wanted the latter, tell me and I'll write it!

An Oblivious Genius

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer has feelings for you but is too oblivious to realise - Gideon helps him.

Genre: subtle fluff

Word Count: 862

Warnings: none

A/N: the way I ended this leaves it open to a part two, so please comment if you'd like one!

“I think you have feelings for her.”

“Huh?”

Gideon didn’t lift his gaze from the newspaper in his hands, the wrinkles on his forehead peeking from behind the inked folio. “I said, you may have feelings for her, Reid.”

Spencer never turned to anyone for help, because why would he? He knew more than anyone else when it came to most things - well, except socially. And emotionally. And anything having to do with you.

The only person that wouldn’t bruise his ego was Gideon - his mentor, his guidance. He held more of a God-like presence than a fatherly one for Reid; his advice and experience were almost holy, a dogma which Spencer believed and followed without questioning.

So when his number one source of truth told him he had a crush on you, it was a shock.

“I don’t think that’s the case-”

“Reid.”

Spencer stopped his attempted rambling as Gideon’s eyes made an appearance from behind the lowered paper.

“Just repeat what you were telling me at the start of the conversation,” the older man sighed.

Spencer shifted on his legs, picking at the rolled up sleeve that was settled by his elbow.

“I know she’s my closest friend, the person I feel most comfortable with, although she’s been working here for less time than everyone else. It’s probably because she doesn’t interrupt me and listens when I talk.” He paused for a second, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle smile. “I like that.”

“What else?” urged Gideon, setting his newspaper on the desk in front of him.

“I get really excited to see her. Well, I enjoy seeing Derek and Elle too, but I get this weird feeling at the pit of my stomach when I see her.” He pressed his palm to his sternum, showing the origin of the sensation.

“That’s because she means more to you.”

“Yes, but surely not in the way you’re implying. It could be heart burn; do you know that twenty percent of Americans suffer from a gastroesophageal reflux at least once a week-”

“You’re telling me you happen to experience heart burn each time she enters the room?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow, making the younger agent feel dumb for such an improbable conclusion.

“Okay … okay maybe not, the two variables cannot be fully independent of each other if they occur simultaneously every time.”

It was surprising to Gideon that such an intelligent and well-rounded person could be so oblivious to something as romantic feelings. He pressed his thumb and index finger into his eyes, rubbing them slowly and dragging his fingers down his cheeks, buying himself some time to think.

“I think an obvious question is, do you think she’s pretty?” he asked and waved his hand to the side.

Spencer bit his lower lip. He thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on if he had to be entirely honest; but he couldn’t admit that, not out loud at least.

“I do.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Gideon? That I think that she’s breath-taking and there’s not a thing about her I don’t like?” He said it with a certain anger, one that was buried somewhere deep inside him, a result of the pent up emotions and anxieties in his chest.

“Is that the truth?” You’d think that with his profiling experience, he would have learnt to mask the way he was suppressing the fluttery feelings and adoration he had for you.

Gideon sighed before speaking again: “What are the signs that one is supressing emotions?”

“Struggling to identify and express feelings or appearing emotionally distant, unexpected mood swings, and avoidance of specific topics, people, or situations.”

“And doesn’t that seem to mirror what you’re going through?”

Spencer thought about it. He was definitely finding it challenging to pin point his emotions, he couldn’t really understand what he felt for you; he didn’t really have mood swings, but had just lashed out at his mentor over a comment; and he certainly avoided the topic of liking you or the teasing of such from his workmates.

“Shit, I like her.”

Gideon chuckled at his out-of-character swearing. “First off, watch your language. Secondly, I’m glad you’ve come round.” He laid back in his chair once more, lifting up the paper to continue his reading.

The young genius didn’t know what to do with this newfound information. He liked you. More than liked you, really. He was fascinated by your mere existence, your kindness, your humour, and most definitely your looks. How hadn’t he realised this sooner?

“What do I do now?” he mumbled, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his button-up shirt.

“You tell her you like her.”

Spencer near snapped his glasses in half with the way the pads of his fingers pressed firmly in shock.

“You want me to do what?”

“Reid, it’s not a secret that she has a soft spot for you.”

The boy sputtered, jaw opening and closing like a door on rusted hinges. “I- I can’t do that!”

The newspaper rustled as Gideon flipped the page. “One of you will eventually.”

God I need him, he's such a cutie

#writingreidisms #reidismrequests #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #mgg fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #fem reader

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x female reader #hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #bau!reader #hotch x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM New Beginnings Fics

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

First, check out @emberfrostlovesloki 's 🌈 Masterlist of Entries ☀️: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Hotch, Emily, and Spencer fics! Check out their page for even more!

🌼 SFW S.R./Reader Entries 🌼

Play Dates by me: [GN] Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had many dates and offers several Play Dates.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by @foxy-eva: [GN] Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When Reader is finally back in town, they're ready for a fresh start. 

You're Gonna Go Far, Love by @writer-in-theory: [GN] After relapsing, Spencer takes the first flight with no plan other than to get a fresh start.

Love Like the Sea by @rynwritesreid: [GN] After Spencer lost Maeve, he swore of love, until Reader came around.

Cowboy Like Me by @foxy-eva: [Fem] Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream to become a cowboy.

In Sickness and In Health by @pathologicalreid: [Fem] Minutes before Reader's wedding is supposed to start, Spencer gets cold feet.

Maybe We Found Love Right Where We Are by @andiebeaword: [Fem] Spencer just got engaged to Maeve on Valentine’s Day. Finding out his best friend’s heart will be broken changes things. 

More ratings and pairings below!

🌼 Other Pairings/Gen SFW Fics 🌼

Silent Demon by @angellsell: [Derek/Fem!Reader] Reader celebrates a month milestone of sobriety, but she isn't very proud of it.

Hearts on Our Sleeves by @angellsell: [Hotch/Fem!Reader] Aaron and Reader decide to give a try at a new relationship after a long dry spell.

Good Fortune by @reasonablerodents: [Hotchreid] Spencer and Aaron are the only ones without a partner for a New Year's Kiss.

And When Dawn Came by @snarkylinda: [Gen] Spencer calls Emily the night that Cat has the baby he decided to adopt.

The Date by @codename-mom: [Gen] Jessica didn't expect what her former brother-in-law was going to ask her.

Last Recruit by @/codename-mom: [Gen] There's a new agent at the BAU eager to start her new life. Her name is Penelope Garcia.

First Steps by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Rossi found a young agent named Aaron Hotchner who could be a good new recruit for the BAU.

First Day at School by @/codename-mom: [Gen] Jack is now old enough to go at school and his father has trouble to deal with this very special day.

🌼 NSFW Entries (S.R./Fem!R) 🌼

Second Time's a Charm by @foxy-eva: Back in college Spencer Reid and Fem!Reader left many things unsaid. Years later they give it another try.

It’s Too Cliché by me: Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

For the Love of Lace by @reidmotif: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend anymore but needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her date.

Sweet Agony by @incognit0slut: After tragedy, Reader believed she was unworthy of love. Spencer proves her wrong.

Co-Creator Bonus List

🌼 SFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

The Only Hoax I Believe In by Foxy: Spencer struggles with his addiction after prison until Reader is determined to help him, no matter the cost.

The Perfect Plan by me: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

Impromptu by me: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Defining Family by me: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Clean Shaven by me: Reader helps Spencer shave after prison.

Drunk Dial by me: It’s been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Repentance by me: Spencer is confronted with his second chance at life, finding it full of regrets. Reader tries to talk him through it.

Happy Hydrangea by me: TransMan!Reader. JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

🌼 NSFW S.R./Fem!R Fics 🌼

Lily of the Valley (Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3) by me: Unsub!Reid. Spencer was found guilty but mentally ill after the torture and murder of several men. He finds solace in his psychiatrist at the institution.

Duet by Foxy: Letting the love of his life get away was Spencer’s biggest regret, so he decides to go after her.

Honeymoon by Foxy: Spencer and his wife are excited about their future (and their honeymoon).

To Have and To Hold by me: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song by me: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Domesticity by me: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy by me: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

🌼 Other SFW Pairings 🌼

Till Death Do Us Part by Foxy: [Emily/GN!Reader] Reader didn't expect grief to linger after Emily came back from the dead.

Motherhood by Foxy: [Tara/Emily] Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Happy Reading!

P.S. If I missed your fic or you have a new one to add, feel free to send me a message. I would love to add it!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds challenge #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchreid #criminal minds gen fic #cm gen fic

[beelmons]

Mandatory team-building exercise

Pairing: BAU x Fem!BAU!Reader (becomes Hotch-centered) Genre: Smut (18+, minors are not encouraged to interact or read this story) CW: unprotected sex (i do not encourage), slight exhibitionism (not really, but ppl know stuff), jealous!hotch (a lil only), hoeing around, reader is bisexual Word count: 6,795 (very sorry about this) Summary: After a night of drinking, your boss proposes a bonding exercise so the team can get even closer: Everyone must make out with you, and you have to choose who kisses best. A/N: I got too carried away with this, no idea if i did any good, but here you go. Tag list (tagging everyone who reblogged and voted hotch): @ssamorganhotchner @montyfandomlove @hotchners-sweetheart @hey-dw @cassiemartzz <;3

Best part of going to O’keefe’s was wrapping the night up at Rossi’s, slightly tipsy, laughing about everything, and generally enjoying the genuine personalities of your friends, no masks or guards up, which was something hard to do at work. David’s house was a place where you could bare your soul and still feel safe. 

“...and I swear, everyone just thought it was the most normal thing.” JJ said while swinging her glass of wine around, and the people around her let out a light laugh. 

“I bet Rossi could agree with that, couldn’t you?” Morgan directed the question to Dave “After all, it’s your fault that we don’t get to fraternize with other agents, ain’t that right?” his comment made everyone laugh once again. 

“No, no, never within the same department. I was in the bureau during the 70’s and 80’s, you didn’t get that many women out here, let alone in the BAU. By the end of my career, we only had two female agents in this unit and I had already been married thrice. So, do the math, if I had wanted to sleep with someone from the same unit, it would have had to be…” he made a pause for dramatic build-up “well, Gideon.” 

The entire team let out a disgusted yet amused grunt at the mere idea of seeing two of their former bosses interacting in such fashion. You watched Spencer’s face be particularly crumpled, he was possibly picturing it in vivid detail by accident, consequences of having such a bright mind, so you decided to grab the hand that was holding his long island tea and push it gently towards his lips. You giggled at how he automatically obeyed and swallowed down a rather big gulp of his beverage. 

“I’m just glad these are problems we don’t have to face in the BAU, you know, fraternization between agents.” Hotch said, taking a sip off his glass. 

The silence that took over the group was deafening. Accusatory looks were being exchanged between everyone, and they could notice how certain glances lasted longer than appropriate. Hotch didn’t usually stay long enough to see how the nights ended, when everyone was too hammered to call their own cabs, or too impaired to question themselves whether the person they were kissing was or was not part of the team. 

“Well, I think this is a conversation you kids should have without your parent present.” David, who was way faster at reading the situation compared to the unit chief, got up from his chair, leaving his glass by the table. Aaron sighed in what seemed like disappointment, and immediately followed Dave's actions. “No, no.” the older man quickly put a hand on his shoulder indicating him to sit down “I think it’s better if you stay; do some bonding. I’ll be in my room, sleeping, don’t be afraid to be noisy, the place is soundproof, just make sure to leave the alarm active once you leave.”

Incredulity washed over the unit chief as he watched his fellow team leader walk away from the situation. The eyes had turned to him instead, silently questioning about the decision he was going to take. It was a bit awkward to discuss your personal affairs with your boss present, sure, but it’s not like you didn’t have a relationship with him. Hotch, reserved and all, knew each member to a level of intimacy that few others could be able to reach, and had protected them in ways no other superior would approve of.  

“Whatever I hear today will come through the ears of your friend, not your superior, but there’s no discussing this back at the office, understood?” the boss clarified as he went back to his seat, his hand reaching for the scotch he had left on the table. There was a second of doubtful silence, people were unsure how safe it was to share such private, and risky, information. Hotch started to catch up, feeling slightly unwelcome and bothersome, so he let out another sigh.  

“Elle was Reid’s first time.” you spurted out of the blue, trying to ease the anxiety that was probably growing within your superior. 

“Hey!” your partner yelled out, being sat next to you on one of the couches, clearly offended that he was the scapegoat to the situation. 

“Greenaway?!” Morgan asked from across the living room. 

“Do you know any more Elles, Morgan?” you said, your eyes rolling. 

“How did you even land that, kid?” the dark-skinned man continued to ask. 

“I’m not really a fan of discussing my sex life out in the open, which is why this was told in confidence to my close and dear friend” the young doctor shot you a quick glare with a hint of anger on it. 

“Oh, so now it’s a sex life?” JJ teased. 

“Totally.” you said, taking a sip of your own drink before continuing “Because he told me this two minutes before he shoved his tongue in my mouth, and his fingers down my pants.” 

“No way!” Prentiss let out while everyone else laughed in surprise, Hotch’s eyebrows simply slightly raised at the confession. 

Reid was sinking on his seat, his ears reddened from the looks that he was receiving. You made sure to squeeze his thigh lightly and shoot him a smile, which deflated the uneasiness that he was feeling. You didn’t mean any harm, and there was no wrong in letting the secret out in front of your most cherished friends, they would have found out one way or another. 

“Morgan and I made out once.” Garcia interrupted the teasing in order to protect her favorite boy wonder from any further teasing, and Derek drew a smug smile on his face at her affirmation. 

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Hotch contributed with an absolutely unphased expression, or so until another idea ran through his mind, his brows furrowing in concern “Hold on, was this on company time?” both suspects froze in their place and exchanged questioning, guilty looks. Regardless of the answer, their expressions had been enough to give them away “you know what? it’s better if I don’t know.” 

“That office is certainly cozy, don’t you think?” JJ said once again, her eyes traveling between you and Penelope. 

“Impossible.” Derek’s eyes spread wide open, his jaw basically dropping “Please don’t tell me the three made out in Garcia’s office and didn’t invite us to watch” he let out in a pleading, hurt tone. 

“Four.” Emily barged in. 

The men in the room seemed to melt at the revelation, the expression being quite literal for Morgan who slid down the chair in defeat, landing on his knees as if he had been shot in the cruelests of fashions. Spencer could only furrow his brows and let his mouth fall open, already trying to picture the situation. 

“Was it like, taking turns on each other? or the four of you putting your lips together in one single kiss?” the blond asked in order to assess the spatial situation better. 

“I’d say it was kind of a free-for-all sort of situation.” Prentiss answered him. 

“At some point, I’d close my eyes and whomever’s lips came to mine, I was fine with it.” JJ commented, earning a flirty giggle from the rest of the girls around her. 

“You women are killing me.” Morgan said once again, but a sudden epiphany seemed to come through his brain, and he turned in your direction with a pointed finger “Wait a second. That means you have been through everyone’s lips?!” he said in surprise. 

“You’ve made out with her too?!” Garcia said in an offended tone. 

“Christmas last year, got a little carried away with that mistletoe kiss.” he admitted “But nothing further than that.” 

Everyone’s eyes turned to you, the crowd had a mixture of accusation and admiration on their faces, depending on who you looked at, and their staring was making you a little uncomfortable, if you were being honest. 

“Have you all looked at yourselves? This is a ridiculously hot group of people. Being bisexual is very hard with a team like this.” you argued in your defense and decided to down whatever liquid was still inside your glass. Their faces seemed to light up with a hint of shyness. Everyone thought so, of course, but compliments on your physical appearances were not something you exchanged frequently. It was nice to hear once in a while. 

“Did you ever end up sleeping with someone?” Hotch’s question took everyone by surprise, yet they were intrigued enough to allow him to ask uninterrupted. 

Your eyebrows raised with slight offense “Come on, Hotch, I’m not a slut. The closest I have come to was Reid, and even so we stopped because I didn’t want to jeopardize our jobs.” you complained. 

“Sorry, that was not my intention-” he began, until Reid’s question cut him off. 

“Who’s the best?” he asked. 

“Spencer!” JJ yelled accusingly. 

“No, no, let the kid ask.” Morgan put a hand in front of JJ’s chest, trying to keep her opinions from coming out. Yet again, you were put as the center of attention, but you decided to shrug off the question. 

“It’s not like I keep track of each time!” you let out, pushing your friend by the shoulder playfully at his suggestion “Most of them were really far apart from each other, and it only happened once with each one of you.” you clarified, your eyes traveling to Aaron, as if you were trying to justify yourself to him. 

“So, what I hear is: if they were to happen one after the other, then we could find out?” Emily questioned in your direction. 

“There’s a pretty spacious coat closet by the entrance.” Reid pointed out. 

“Oh, we could make it into a competition, and whoever wins gets to sleep with her!” Garcia blurted with a little too much excitement. 

“Wha-” you tried to complain in confusion “Stop your horses, I don’t even get a say in this?!” 

“No.” Hotch stated. The way his eyes were stern, yet completely determined, caused a sensation in you that could only be described as lust. He was always commanding, but there was something about him instructing you to do the dirtiest things to your coworkers that had gotten you excited “This is now a mandatory team-bonding exercise.” his words came out almost like an order.  

There was yet another exchange of looks, this time excited ones, between the team members, and they decided to look at you for approval. “Okay, but sleeping with me is one hell of a prize, and I don’t seem to be getting anything out of this. So, how do I win, and what do I win?” 

“Seems fair that you have a reward as well if you achieve your desired result. How about, if no one is able to convince you to sleep with them, you get one of their vacation days each.” Hotch proposed. “Garcia and JJ, since the two of you are committed you don’t have to actively participate, but you will place a bet on the member you think she’ll most likely succumb to, if you win, you get the loser’s vacation day.”  

Your mouth crooked with pleasure, an expression that your partners mimicked. You were feeling exposed, in the good way, in the kinky way. You still took a second to consider, you knew there was no going back if you agreed to this, but yet again, these were the people you had trusted your entire life to, your job, your safety, your dignity. They would never do anything to undermine you, and their respect for you wouldn’t waver for something like this. 

“We have to set some rules, though.” Spencer weighed in “Only mouths and hands allowed in the erogenous zones.” 

“You worried that if we allow something else you’ll lose?” Morgan teased.

“Mhm, sure, we know what you’re trying to compensate for with those biceps, Morgan. I’m not afraid of you.” his friend teased back. There was a short moment of playful conflict between the two, when Derek pretended to jump menacingly towards Reid, yet he was stopped by Penelope’s hand on his chest. 

“Okay. I’m game.” you agreed along with a nod of your head “Who wants to give it a try first?” you asked, taking a look at the entire group. 

Bunch of eager hands raised at the cue. Morgan’s and Prentiss’s almost touching the ceiling as they competed to see who could raise it higher. JJ and Penelope, who were unfortunately not single at the moment, could only laugh at their little quarrel. Your finger moved rhythmically, pretending to select at random while humming a classic ‘choosing’ song. Ultimately, your digit landed on Prentiss and you wiggled it to indicate her to follow you; she stood up to reach for your hand, allowing you to lead her towards the closet by the entrance. 

She locked the door behind her and turned around with her hands extended towards you, trying to find your body in the pitch-dark small room; your eyesights finally adjusted to the lack of light and you could barely make out her shape. 

“You sure you’re good with this?” she double-checked once her limbs landed on your waist. 

“Em, I love the commitment to consent, but stop talking.” you ordered. 

Within seconds, your own arms wrapped around her neck urging her to come closer; she obliged, happily, and her own head bent forward to meet your lips. You could taste the faint flavor of her balm, which you identified as piña colada. 

Her lips moved slowly, yet sensually, the hands that were gripping your hips pulled them closer, and you could heart the rustling of your clothes rubbing together. After a couple of seconds, her tongue began to prod your bottom lip, ever so chivalrous asking for permission. You chuckled amusedly at the gesture, and she took advantage of the opening to slip in. 

Emily liked to take her time, not really taking control, more like exploring a place that always felt familiar and was revisiting just then. On your side, your fingers curled into the slightly messy hair, and your body rolled on its own to be feeling more of her against you. 

You could feel her hand dragging upwards over your clothes, she traced the side of your body and caused your shirt to come up a little bit, the cool air felt interesting against your now hot skin, and so a sound slipped past your lips. It was Emily’s turn to laugh, pulling away so she could make out your eyes. 

“Better than last time?” she asked, her face not leaving yours. 

“Mhm.” you could simply hum, still breathless from the session. 

“Do you have enough material to work with, judge?” she teased, her nose grazing yours in a playful manner. 

“You will be hard to top, Em.” you admitted to her as your body pulled away. 

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” she joked “I’ll send in the next contestant, who do you want me to get?” 

“You know what? Just send in whoever you’d like, surprise me.” 

She smiled before sneaking out of the narrow room. You were left alone with a bunch of coats and purses, your idea building anticipation within yourself. Spencer or Morgan, who would come through that door? You were dying to know. Although, if you were being honest, there was only one other person you wanted in there with you. However, you weren’t sure if the team-bonding exercise applied to him as well, he was the sole pair of lips you were dying to taste, and still the only ones you hadn’t. 

Your train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the door; you jumped slightly in your place, and the man that was entering the room could notice. 

“Whoa, sweetheart, you that excited to see me?” Morgan chuckled at your startled reaction, and he swiftly closed the door behind you. 

“You’re a pleasant surprise, yes.” you said trying to ease your nervousness. Morgan made you particularly uneasy, not for anything bad, you were just sure that man had some sort of a psychic ability, he would always guess what you were thinking without even opening your mouth. 

“You were expecting someone different, weren’t you?” he stood before you, towering over your body. 

He took a couple of steps forward and you retracted until your back eventually hit the wall, he continued to pace forward until the gap between your bodies almost disappeared; being caged in by him, your hands traveled to your front, and they landed on his chest, almost as if you were trying to put some space in between you. 

He caught up to your actions, observant as he was, and so he raised his own hands to cup your cheeks. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness once again, and you could see the natural glim of his as he looked into you. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, alright? We can just pretend like we did until Hotch gets his turn.” he reassured, and your mouth dropped open. 

“Why would you-” you started to try and justify yourself, but he cut you off with a laugh. 

“I’ve got an eye for tragic lovers.” 

You sighed a little bit; Morgan had to be a mind reader, there was no other way. As if he was doing just that, his arms fell back to his sides and he stepped back to give you more space. Your hands desperately clung to the front of his t-shirt, not allowing him to escape any further from your grip. 

“Hold on.” you told him “There’s no need to pretend, he already thinks we’re going to do it, so what’s the harm?” 

The room was a bit too dark for you to make out his specific facial expression, but you were sure his eyebrows were raised in a startled surprise. 

“Damn, you’re good at convincing.” without further delay, his hands darted back to the position on your face, and he used them to pull you forward. 

You felt his lips on yours immediately, he was less gentle than Emily, but nonetheless chivalrous. You had to grant him access to your mouth, and he quickly obeyed your desires. His fingers moved back to the nape of your head, keeping you in place against his mouth as his tongue danced fervently around yours. 

Your hands had moved back to his chest, using them to stabilize yourself since his strength and mild roughness was making you lose your balance. You couldn’t help the slight squeeze that you gave his pecs, being that they felt firm under your fingers. Derek took your initiative with the touch as an invitation to do so as well. One of his arms fell down, and sensually slipped to your lower back, he was cautious, lowering inch by inch in search of any sign of complaint or rejection, but you didn’t provide  any, and his palm gently began to caress the area of your ass. 

Your hips rolled unconsciously against his, his breath hitched inside his throat as you did so to the point where he had to pull apart to catch it back. He didn’t want to leave you unattended, therefore his head tilted to the side to take a gentle nibble at your jaw before he moved down to your neck. The hand on your neck joined the other on your rear, adding much needed pressure to his front; you let out a pleased sound, and it was his sign to retract. 

He stole a quick, last peck from your lips before he pulled back. “I think I’ve done a good job.” he said with a cheeky tone.  

“Certainly, contestant” you went along with the joke and he answered with a laugh “Please send in the next test subject” he nodded at your instructions and calmly walked out. 

Thanks to Morgan’s comment, you realized that Aaron was probably game as well, and the mere thought of him appearing behind that door at any given second was making you nervous enough to begin pacing around the small room. You yet again reacted when the entrance was open again, and you must have made a movement or expression that indicated disappointment, because Reid pursed his lips at the sight of you. 

“Not who you were expecting?” he asked before he closed the door behind him, and you could notice the tint of sadness in his voice. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” you reached out towards him in an attempt to find his hands, and when you finally did you pulled him closer to you “You know it’s always a delight to make out with you.” you tried to reassure him. 

“It’s mutual, you know?” he said, his hands still in yours. 

“I figured, I am an excellent kisser” you teased. 

“That’s not what I meant.” his voice seemed more stern than usual “You and Hotch.” 

You were thankful for the darkness that didn’t allow the blush of your face to be seen; after a couple of seconds, you cleared your throat, trying to avoid sounding too hopeful. 

“You don’t have to force yourself to kiss me” he added “Plus, I don’t know how comfortable I would be doing so while you think of another man.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his candor. Vulnerable Spencer could always sway you, mostly because you knew none of his words ever held an ill intention. He was honest to a fault, and you always felt compelled to soothe his anxieties. 

“Then be good enough to make me forget.” you almost let out as a whisper. 

You knew it would have to be up to you to take control with him, so you cupped his face and quickly dragged him down to your level to press a kiss to his lips and shut up whatever other excuse he was going to emit. Spencer was much more familiar with your lips compared to others, barely any foreplay before his tongue was already massaging yours sensually. His fingers gripped your hips in a similar fashion he had done before (that one time you were telling the rest of the team about). 

He pushed you backwards a bit, having you pressed against an already too familiar wall, and you could feel his knee slipping past your thighs, right in between them. His lips continued to work around yours, gently nonetheless, but you could feel the grip on your hips getting tighter, and you realized he was trying to move them, bringing friction to your front. 

A light moan slipped past your lips straight into his mouth, so his body moved forward to press against you a little tighter. “Isn’t that cheating?” you took the opportunity to say. 

“It’s not.” he answered before taking another kiss away from you “My mouth is where it’s supposed to be.” 

You giggled at his logic; Spencer was just that good when it came to loopholes. You were too focused on the pleasure that was taking over you as your clothed crotch continued to rub against his leg to actually care. Your hips started to take a rhythm on their own, and your kiss turned into a session of adjoining lips panting in unison. His fingers kept digging further into the skin that he had managed to expose due to the movement. 

At some point, your head dropped back to allow yourself to get lost in the moment, and you felt his lips attack its base with open-mouthed, yet non-invasive, kisses. Your legs began to shake and Spencer pressed against you to keep you up, your light orgasm running within every vein of your body. 

He let out a light chuckle as he pulled away from you, making sure you could keep your balance. “Bet Morgan didn’t do that” he said proudly. 

You hit him in the arm and pushed him towards the door with a smile, watching him smugly prance his way out. You laughed to yourself to disguise the anxiety that began to overwhelm you. You made sure to fix your clothes in a somewhat presentable manner, and you unconsciously pressed yourself back against the wall, as if you were too scared to meet him face first. 

Your heart felt like jumping straight up out of your chest when the knob finally twisted the damned piece of fine wood open. For the brief moment the hall light illuminated the insides, your eyes met, you could see the startle in his eyes once he noticed the way you stood there seemingly frozen by his appearance. He couldn’t bear the sight, his hands immediately darting to your face without having even shut the entrance. In a blink, his entire presence was right by yours, and his nose rubbed desperately against your own, almost as if it had taken all of his strength to stop himself from kissing you right away. 

“Can I?” he asked in a mutter. 

“Yes.” you barely let him finish his question when you answered. 

Your firm and resolute agreement was nothing but a turn on to him, and his lips pressed passionately against yours without a second thought. You struggled to catch your breath as he devoured every inch of your now plump skin. His hands were nowhere near quiet, either, they presumed permission to explore as well and traveled south to where your lower-back, and any work you had done to tidy your shirt was long gone, being that he was heavily bothered by the fact that you were clothed.

The tip of his fingers were carefully memorizing the areas where your skin curved, every so often gripping selfishly with the intention of leaving at least a faint mark. You wondered how he could keep going without taking a break, and as if he could read your mind he pulled away.

“That’s plenty to be able to judge your performance.” you joked, suddenly aware that this had all begun because of a silly game you had tipsily come up with. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, his hands fixing themselves on your face instead, keeping it still to have you at the same level as him. 

“What for?” your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, even if in the darkness he couldn’t quite see your expression. 

“It’s not enough for me.” his lips smashed onto yours once again with a similar force “Please tell me this urge isn’t one-sided.” he tried to reassure himself. 

“It’s not.” you hurried to clarify, and your hands tugged at his shirt to serve as guarantee. 

Aaron reached for the hem of your top and swiftly pulled it over your head, giving your aching lips a second of rest. Once your breasts were partially freed, you noticed him bend over, and one of his hands moved the remaining fabric away to expose your nipple; the way his mouth so hungrily latched to it made you shiver with pleasure, your right limb moving to his hair, and the left one covering your mouth to stop the loud moan from coming out. He didn’t take long to bring your other nub attention as well, and caged, throaty whines began to fill the room. 

You could feel his erection pressing against your hip; he would roll them from time to time just as a reminder of the effect you had on him. You couldn’t process all that, though, if you were being honest, his every move, kiss, and suck driving you further away from sanity. As if his mouth wasn’t already doing wonders around your chest, you bolted up when you realized one of Hotch’s hands had found its way inside your pants, toying with the elastic band of your underwear. 

“Aaron.” you removed the cover from your face to let out an aroused moan of his name. 

He finally let go of your upper body, his back straightening to be close to your face once again “Tell me,” he almost whispered “when he was doing this to you, were you thinking of me?” 

When you didn’t jerk away from his touch, he moved past the last restrictive garment, and one of his digits trailed up your entire slit, an experimental feeling to gather your reaction. To his pleasure, you melted into his touch, and the lack of light didn’t allow you to see the wide smile it generated on him. He took advantage of your approval to slip his finger inside your cunt. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased as the aforementioned began to painstakingly slowly twirl within you “Tell me, is there anyone else that can make you this agitated? So wet, so desperate to be touched?” 

“N-No” you tried to answer in one go, however, the way the tip of his finger caressed your walls in search of reactions was not allowing you to think straight. 

“I’ll ask you again.” he said, his tone ever commanding “While he was touching you like this, did you secretly wish it was me?” he kept pressing his initial line of questioning, that you were too gone to remember it was about your little anecdote with Reid. 

His wrist twisted in a way that allowed him to penetrate deeper, owning a moan that you tried to subtly suppress. 

“Yes!” you cried out in the lowest tone you were able to, still oddly aware that the rest of your coworkers were outside. 

“Let him know.” he basically growled against your ear, you lacked contact in your lower body for a second, only to let out a loud, uncontained whimper once he added a second finger to the formula. You grabbed for dear life onto his biceps, trying to keep your balance as he continued to thrust his fingers inside and out, your head also laid against the crook of his neck, unable to keep yourself facing him as he spilled dirty nothings in your ear. 

“Aaron, please.” you begged as your hips tried to get him even further within you “I need more.” 

The arm that was helping you keep still moved so his fingers could tangle in your hair, his grip allowed him to tilt your head back with a gentle tug, not quite enough to hurt you, but firm enough to force it a little. 

“I’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget every word but my name.” his mouth pressed against yours once again to give you a reaffirming, rough kiss.

He removed his hand from your downside, and it energetically began to search around for the top he had removed earlier. Unable to find it, between other pieces of clothing and the darkness of the room, Aaron decided to remove his own shirt and hurried to throw it over your shoulders. 

Your face reddened at his intentions, he was trying to cover you so the rest of the members wouldn’t see you literally half naked. Once he was comfortable with how many buttons he had hooked, he grabbed your hand to guide you outside the narrow closet. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, and his subordinates, the only path towards the guest rooms, that Dave had prepared earlier, was to follow the hallway that crossed the living room area on the side. You braced yourself mentally, your hand covering your face as you began to feel the confused sights of your coworkers during your little parade. 

“Last one out set the alarm.” you could hear Hotch command, but you didn’t dare to look back at your friends, or him for that matter. 

The rest of the group simply stared at how their shirtless superior was dragging a girl, their very best friend, who was wearing his shirt over what was obviously a barely clothed chest, to the rooms their other boss had prepared for a very specific purpose. They exchanged puzzled looks in complete silence until Emily spoke up. 

“Anyone know the alarm code?” she asked. 

Back to you and Aaron, he had chosen the closest door he could find open. As soon as you stepped in, he grabbed your hips once again to press them against his, his erection made itself known against them, and you couldn’t help but to curiously wander one hand down. Your foreheads met and so did your eyes as you palmed his front; he let out an airy quiet moan. 

Not able to take his frustration any longer, he twirled in his place along with you, making you stumble and fall on your back on to the bed. He landed right on top, his palms against the mattress cushioning the fall so he wouldn’t lay his entire weight on you. 

There was no exchange of words, only a quick glance at your covered bottom that you understood as a command. Your back arched upwards and he could steal a glance of your perked nipples rubbing against his lent shirt. Shortly, you began to wiggle underneath him to remove the pants that you were pushing down along with your underwear. Once you were exposed, garments missing somewhere around the area, Aaron sat on his knees to unbuckle his belt. 

The second his member became exposed, you let out a pleased gasp, which prompted him to smile in a rather shy way. Your legs subtly spread apart, revealing more of your intimate parts, and he understood that as an invitation to enter. His tip trailed slowly up and down your entrance, but before you could complain, he began to push in. He was as desperate as you were, and the way you let out a soft whine at his size. 

Once he had pushed all the way in, he reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers together and pushing them all the way over your head. He could get a clear view of your face and breasts, and once he made sure you had adjusted to him, his hips began to move. Another moan escaped your lips, so he leaned down to meet his mouth with yours, planting a passionate, deep kiss to it. 

You could feel yourself being filled by him, soft noises coming out of your mouth into his at the gentleness of his thrusts. Said gesture, however, wouldn’t seem to last long, and you noticed in the way the grip of your hands felt tighter with each one. 

“No one else can touch you like this.” he pulled away from the kiss to focus on the side of your neck, you felt his lips attach to the skin and roughly suck on it. Aaron pulled away to admire the redness that spread on the spot, proud of the mark that he knew it was going to leave. 

“No one else.” you reassured, your back arching a little at the pulsating pain on your neck. 

“Good girl.” he praised, his hips snapping with a particularly rough thrust that caused a low ‘fuck’ out of you. 

“Don’t hold back your voice.” 

He repeated his movement, and this time you squirmed trying to free your hands, a loud, throat-deep whimper resonating around the otherwise empty room. He smirked at the volume of the sound, yet his hips continued to pound in you, the initial slow movements gone from his rhythm. 

“Aaron…” you whispered in between moans “I want to cum.” you tried to beg. 

“Not yet, sweetheart.” his eyes glimmered with certain darkness

His hips changed angles even when his current speed wouldn’t give in, the way he was pushing now allowed your clit to rub slightly against his lower torso with every thrust, probably so he wouldn’t have to use his hands and set yours free. 

“I need to know I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” he growled “I need you to say you’re mine.” 

“I’m-” you were about to start talking when he snapped his hips roughly, and you could feel him slide all the way in, his balls making a loud clapping sound when they hit the skin on your ass. The sound you made was loud, almost like a scream, and you were sure whoever was still outside certainly heard it. 

“What 's that? Couldn’t hear you.” his mouth had curled into a smug smirk. 

“I’m yours, Aaron. I’m all yours.” you cried out, your wrists once again twisting in an attempt to free themselves. 

He muttered another praise and let go of your hands, which could only fall flat to your sides and grip onto the sheets of the bed; he leaned back to be sitting on his knees once again, not allowing his member to slip out of you, and grabbed at your hips to slide them onto his lap. He held them in position as he continued to thrust, but one of his thumbs snuck to the upper part of your cunt, rapidly teasing the sensitive nerve bundle. 

You kept slightly gritting your teeth, your walls clenching around his shaft without mercy, and even if it was not obvious on his face, you could tell by the way his member throbbed inside of you that he was about to reach his limit as well. 

“Cum.” he suddenly commanded, and you didn’t need anything more. 

You allowed yourself to be engulfed by your climax, your body twisting itself and your hands pulling at the fabric beneath them, your legs also curled, basically pushing your partner in your direction, not even giving him the option to pull back. 

On his part, his head was thrown back, and you could see the way his adam’s apple bobbed with the loud groans he let out, his fingers gripping tighter on your skin, however this time the mark that his hold would leave was a complete accident. 

He didn’t pull out once he had spilled himself completely into you, instead, his body dropped forward, his arms slipping under your body to hold you close to him, head on your chest, eyes closed, just trying to take in the fact that he had just made love to you. 

“Aaron?” you said with a curious tone, your arms wrapping around his back and allowing one of your hands to tangle in his hair. He answered with a short hum, too tired to give you an actual answer “Does it bother you that I made out with the rest of the team tonight?” you asked, nervous that it would have hurt him in any way. 

“No.” he said matter-of-factly “As long as I only get to do it from now on.” 

You shared a light chuckle, and without noticing, the both of you drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning was a bit awkward for Rossi, being that he was not expecting to see the entire team, save for you and Hotch, curled on his living room furniture. JJ, Reid, and Emily had curled up together on the larger piece, while Morgan and Garcia cuddled on one of the individual seats. The clearing of his throat woke everyone up in a startle, and they looked around confusedly for the missing members of the group. 

“What the hell happened last night?” David asked no one in particular. 

“We were playing a game, and we must have fallen asleep waiting for it to end.” Garcia said with a slightly suggestive, yet groggy, voice, and Rossi decided it was better not to ask. 

“By the way, how do we interpret this?” Emily asked “Who won?” 

“Do you even have to ask?” Morgan scoffed, and Emily shrugged in defeat. 

“Then, who won between the two of you?” Reid asked, pointing at JJ and Garcia. 

“No one, really.” Jennifer replied. 

“What? You both failed? Who did you choose?” Morgan inquired. 

The blondes exchanged looks to see if they had had the same thought, and so they replied in unison once they had figured they were correct. 

“Spencer.” their tones were flat, almost as if the answer was obvious. Reid lit up in a smile, wiggling his eyebrows victoriously at Derek. 

“What?! No way you would just pick him!” he was baffled at the answer. 

“Girls talk, Derek” Penelope told him “Let’s just say Elle reviewed his service with five stars.” 

The group broke into a shared laugh, and Rossi only interrupted so he could inquire on the whereabouts of his friends. 

“Where’s Aaron?” he prompted. 

“One of the guest rooms.” Reid said. 

“And is he with…?” Dave continued. 

“Yup” the five members said in unison, referring to you. 

“Also, Rossi, if you don’t mind, I kind of have a design suggestion.” Spencer turned in the direction of his superior

The older man raised his eyebrows, curious about the words that were about to come out of the younger’s mouth. “Let’s hear it.” 

“Please make all the rooms soundproof.”

#aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch/reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner/you #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #hotch smut #mine #fic: hotchner #fic: mine #fic: smut #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fan fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fic

[show-your-fangs]

make a wish, huh? i wish i wish with all my heart for reader to have pissed off her daddy dom in the field. so as a punishment she has to sit on this big man’s shoe while he does paperwork. cockwarming him with her mouth until he decides no matter how bad she’s whining and needing him, that she can rock and get herself off. but only if she listens to him. if not? if she’s a brat and she’s being really really needy?? i do believe that causes for a spanking, don’t you? over his knee, skirt rolled up.. you know. just a wish 😈🙏🏻

Knees | Dom!Aaron Hotchner

The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Blurb

Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/sub!Reader

Words: 2k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: master!hotch, bunny!reader, established D/s relationship, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), pet names (bunny).

a/n: when Morgan asks for something, you give it to her.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

You swallowed and his entire body tensed up under you. He hissed in disapproval, his darkened gaze almost searing a hole through yours. You couldn’t help it, saliva had been pooling in the corners of your mouth for a few minutes and it was either swallow or let it drip down your throat. And let’s be honest, the latter did not sound as naughty as the former. You knew how he’d react, knew that his cock would twitch at the slight change in pressure, knew that he would know what you were doing. 

You didn’t let his stare scare you. Instead, you returned your own — round, innocent eyes that glistened with tears. It wasn’t that he was hurting you, on the contrary, he was giving you something that you craved yet it was a punishment that he knew was sure to make you lose your mind. His cock in your mouth, warm and heavy on your tongue, thick and hard against your throat. Unmoving, still, agonizing. 

He’d asked you into his office the second the last agent had left for the night. You knew what it was about, knew what awaited you the second he locked the doors and closed the blinds. And fortunately for you, it had not been the professional reprimand that you’d thought.

Unfortunately for you, he had made you strip completely, only allowing you to keep your panties. The cold air made your nipples hard and your skin erupt in goosebumps. He led you down on your knees, your pussy landing on his expensive leather shoe. He was calm and collected as he rolled his desk chair further into his desk, caging you against the wood at your back and his wood at your front.

“Open,” he commanded, and fearing any more repercussions after your major, his words, mild, your words, fuck up in the field, you eagerly did as he asked. A hint of a smile graced his lips as he watched you, an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction burning through his body as he unbuckled his belt. It was painfully slow and you were overly eager as you realized what he was commanding you to do. You were about to reach out to help him speed along the process when his eyes darkened in warning, your hands immediately falling against your sides. 

“Color?” he asked, a hint of cockiness in his voice startled you.

“Green, sir,” you replied, the implications of your consent not yet clear.

“Good,” with that he sprung his cock free from his underwear. He was already semi hard, the tip glistened with pre cum and you couldn’t help but salivate at the excitement. “This is not a treat, bunny,” your eyes met his again before he continued. “You are going to take me in your mouth but you may not make me cum, am I understood?”

Oh no. Aaron knew how much you loved to give him head, how you reveled in watching him come undone by your skilled tongue. It was one of the first things he’d learned about you, one of the things he couldn’t believe you liked doing. Which is why he knew that every fiber in your body would light up in protest. You wanted to scream, argue, throw a tantrum — but you didn’t. Instead you simply nodded solemnly. You had done this to yourself and there was no one else to blame.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised and the excitement in your lower belly went up in flames again. “You will be a perfect, still angel until I finish my paperwork, and then we’ll see if you’ve earned the right to get yourself off on my shoe.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And with that he rolled his chair all the way into his desk, one hand around his cock, the other grabbing your chin and pulling you where he wanted you. The movement made your pussy graze against his rough laces and you had to stop yourself from moaning. You could already feel your wetness start to pool and he’d literally done nothing yet. His fingers pressed against your cheeks and your mouth opened on its own, wide and eager, as he placed a third of his length on your tongue. 

You could’ve started crying right then and there, but you didn’t. You would not let him break you that easily. 

“Do you remember how to safe word, bunny?” He asked, he always asked.

You nodded, making your tongue rub against the underside of his length. You tapped his leg once. Yes. “How do you tap out?”

You tapped his leg twice and he rewarded you by patting your cheek, gently at first, but then his pats turned into soft smacks, right against the tip of his cock inside your mouth. He groaned loudly, the sounds slowly making you lose all sense of self as you felt him twitch inside your mouth. 

“Fuck, bunny,” he moaned. “This is going to be a long night.”

And long it was. You had lost track of time. At first you decided to count the seconds, minutes, hours, whatever to distract yourself from moving, from what you actually wanted to do. But it was impossible. Your arms had wrapped around his leg to hold yourself steady, your legs had started to wobble and so you’d given up and fully sat yourself down on his shoe.

You were gone, your brain wasn’t working anymore. All you could think about was the weight of his cock in your mouth and how much you wanted to move. Move your tongue, move your head, move your hands to wrap around his base, move your hips to give yourself some kind of relief.

You swallowed again, this time accidentally, and because of your miscalculation, your flat tongue grazed against his length, making you roll your eyes back in euphoria. You didn’t register as your hips started moving, as your pussy made contact with the rough, uneven surface of his laces, as your wetness drenched his shoe. Your clit grazed against a buckle and you moaned, loudly. That was the final straw. 

Without a word of warning he rolled his chair out, his hands quickly grabbing you under your armpits and effortlessly lifting you from under the desk. Your mind snapped back to reality in an instant. Glazed eyes turned sharp, numbness turned responsive, daze turned into realization. You were about to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to let the tears fall when he sat you down on his lap, your legs on either side of his own. 

“Sir—”

His palm landed with a smack on your ass, the sting making you whimper. You had learned early on that there were times when he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize his commands. Instead, he’d gotten into the habit of turning them into action. A single spank was a warning to be quiet, to save whatever groveling — he wasn’t going to listen to it. 

“When I give you a command, I expect you to follow it,” he said, anger lacing every word.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your head hanging low avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean it—”

That made him snap, his right hand landing another smack against your reddening ass as his left tightly grasped your jaw, pulling your head up to face him. 

“Like you didn’t mean to go into that apartment without backup?” 

He was concerned, so much in fact that it was the easiest you’d ever been able to read him. You knew he’d been concerned for you. As your boss, you knew he cared for you. But as your Dom…that was a whole different story. You’d done your best to compartmentalize, to trust the other in your skills and training, to accept that you would both be put in scary situations when out in the field. But right then and there, you knew, you saw. He was terrified.

“Yes,” you breathed, the heavy understanding of your punishment washing over you like ice cold water. “It will not happen again. Sir.”

His eyes bore into yours, searching, but you knew what he would find. You cared too. It wasn’t like you had planned on going in without backup, it was that you both understood that the job came first, that whatever instinct made you follow through, no matter how reckless, had probably been for the best of the case. And as much as you both knew, if it made him feel more comfortable to remind you to be careful in this way, you would let him do it every single time.

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips hovering over yours teasingly. “I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

You nodded rapidly, making him smirk. You reveled in it, in his smile, in the warmth that was seeing him experience happiness in whatever form it might take. He gently guided you back to your knees in front of his chair and your eyes lit up.

“Make me cum, bunny,” he sat back down, legs spread open like inviting you to a buffet, chest rising and falling, his white button up straining with each breath.

You wasted no time getting to work, your hands quickly wrapping themselves around the base of his cock. He was still a little slick from your saliva, but it wasn’t enough, so you reached one hand down your panties, fingers eagerly collecting your slick before you slathered it all over his rock hard erection.

“Jesus Christ, bunny,” he groaned as your hands started to move up and down his shaft. Moves calculated, perfectly pressured, expertly avoiding his needy tip. Pre cum started to leak once more and that’s when you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your tongue darted out on its own volition, eagerly rolling around his tip, hungrily drinking him all in. He moaned loudly, his hand wrapping around your hair and pushing you further down against his length. 

You let him, flattening your tongue and opening your throat as you swallowed more and more of his length into your mouth. He stopped at your hand, letting you work your magic then. You wanted him to cum, needed to feel his spend down your throat. Your hands sped up their movements, meeting your mouth sloppily as you bobbed your head up and down to meet them at the base. You continued to roll your tongue around his length as you sucked in your cheeks, tightening around his cock. You could feel him tense, his moans becoming louder and louder, his breathing uneven, his heartbeat aggressive.

“I’m close—” he didn’t even manage to finish his sentence as you removed your hands and took him the rest of the way down your throat. His chest erupted in an animalistic groan as the tension snapped and he spilled down your throat. You moaned at the feeling, at the power that you had over this beautiful man in front of you. As much as you wanted relief of your own, there was nothing more satisfying than having him spill down your throat, than having him come undone by your tongue. The tears finally spilled as you kept him there, patiently waiting for him to finish before you pulled yourself off him. Your eyes locked onto his as you swallowed, making a show of it. 

You were both breathing rapidly, both stuck in a pocket of time where nothing else but the two of you existed, both completely satisfied in your own ways. He ran his hand over his face then, breaking the spell, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he’d say something he’d regret. Instead he took in a sharp breath and placed himself back into his pants before he reached out to help you to your feet. He led you back on his lap and this time he cradled you, warm hands running all over your cold body. You hummed against his chest, your own hands tightly grabbing a hold of his suit jacket. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Yes, Master.”

idk if i'm "back" yet, but here's my offering to you on this saturday. but mostly bc i wanted to fuck with morgan while she's busy and can't do anything about it.

tags: @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @callm3c0nfus3d, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powerlvr25, @formulapierre, @spenciesprincess, @extra-trash77 (if i missed anyone please let me know!)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #the secrets we keep #bunny and clyde #aaron hotchner #dom hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #dom!hotch #sugar daddy!hotch #bau!reader #cam girl!reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch x you #hotch x reader #show your fangs writes #show your fangs asks #show your fangs blurbs

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 1 | S.R

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When you find a handsome cowboy in need of assistance at the side of the road you make the decision to help him, despite the personal risk.

A/N - just pretend for me that the episode Rusty took place before Believer and 300.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - some direct quotes taken from 15.07 Rusty, vague mentions of the events in 13.22 Believer and 14.01 300, depiction of injuries, Spencer’s intrusive thoughts, swearing.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

He’d watched the sun ebb across the sky, from where it began at its midday position directly overhead, scoring laboriously down, not impeded by a cloud in the expanse of blue. 

He witnessed it leisurely recede across the stratosphere, edging lower and lower on its slow descent towards the horizon. With each passing hour the heat dwindled, the sweat that had gathered on his temples and forehead was drying and crusting against his skin. 

The earth beneath him started to cool, unhurriedly, or perhaps he just got used to the temperature which seeped through the layers, beneath the denim of his shirt, further permeating his t-shirt until it scorched the skin of his back. 

The black stetson, which was originally used to cover his eyes from the assault of the sun, was now resting on his chest. 

It started growing darker around a half hour ago at his estimate and it wouldn’t be long before the darkness encompassed him, literally but maybe even figuratively too. 

Maybe out here on this isolated stretch of desert miles outside of town, would be where former FBI

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid would meet his end. 

His heavy and tired eyes fluttered. He’d tried to fight it for hours now, desperate to stay awake in case a car passed by on the baron road. In all the hours he laid there, not a single one had. And now it was getting dark, the likelihood of a car even seeing him from the road was slim. 

He gave over to it, closing his eyes as his fingers drummed against the dusty ground beneath him. He was taken back to a conversation of years passed, he could practically hear the thrum of the jet's engine as she spoke. 

“All this talk of alternate realities, where do you think you’d be in a parallel universe? You know, one of your imagined futures?” Jennifer tucked the blanket tighter around her body, the BAU jet’s AC up high. 

Spencer closed his book while his eyebrows furrowed in curious contemplation at his friend's question. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Come on,” she gave him an almost knowing look. “If you weren’t an FBI Agent, what would you do?”

Spencer inhaled through his nose, the cool air tickling his sinuses before puffing the breath back out. 

He glanced over his shoulder, then over JJ’s to check no one else was within ear shot. 

“Promise not to laugh…?” He asked and she nodded slowly with a twitch at her lip. “A cowboy.” 

He could still see the look of amusement coupled with confusion at his admittance. The way she couldn’t quite contain her smile, but also the way her forehead crinkled. 

“A cowboy?” She repeated, as though doing so might help her make sense of his words. 

“Yeah. I’d, uh, you know, have some horses, a few cattle; be surrounded by nature.” A slightly dreamy look washed over him. 

Even now laying in the dirt as the sun set that same smile appeared on his grossly chapped lips. Even as his mind succumbed to the idea that he was to die out here, he couldn’t hold back. 

Since he was a little boy he’d been oddly fascinated by cowboys and the old west. He was just five years old the first time his mother had read him The Log of a Cowboy, a nineteen-oh-three novel by Andy Adams. 

The story followed the journey of young Tommy Moore, who is helping drive three thousand circle-dot longhorns along the Great Western Cattle Trail from Brownsville, Texas to Montana. It was written, he discovered at a later age, as Adams' response to unrealistic cowboy novels that were being penned at the time. 

Spencer had clung to the normalcy of it. He’d never had a regular life, and knew most likely that he never would given his unusually high IQ. 

Something about that tale had stuck with him his whole life. He kept the idea at the back of his mind, wondering if one day, once he retired, he might seek to find a piece of that which was spoken of in Adams' story.

“And what would you do with cattle?” JJ’s lip was still twitching, curling up a little at the corner as she imagined her straight-laced, suit-wearing best friend as a cowboy.

“You know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em…I hadn’t really thought about that. But I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. 

“Wow, I was…I was not expecting that.” She sat back in her chair, nodding somewhat appeasingly. A part of her could picture it, no matter how far-fetched the concept seemed. 

After everything Spencer had dealt with in his life, maybe being a cowboy was the change of pace he so sorely needed. 

He’d gone on to tell her how he envisioned the team there, even in his parallel universe they were still special to him, just as close as they were now. He spoke of how JJ ran a flower shop on Hickory Street with the boys helping out after school. Will was also there, an old-timey sheriff who protected the townspeople from trouble. 

Rossi ran the saloon, where most of said trouble occurred. Penelope had a sanctuary for wounded animals, Alvez was a rancher. Simmons was a blacksmith while Tara and Emily owned the only hotel in town. 

They were all happy in this timeline. Apart from the odd bar fight at Rossi’s, his make believe town was safe from all the evils of the world. He and his friends could live out simple lives, not to be perturbed by serial killers and rapists and the like. 

But it was all conjecture, an innocent fantasy created in Spencer’s head of what he imagined his life could have been like. But in reality he was an agent of the law, he’d taken an oath to protect and serve. His alternate universe was nothing more than that. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The final straw, the last nail in the coffin of his illustrious career, was Benjamin Merva. After nearly dying at the hands of the cult leader, he knew it was the end for him. 

With Merva’s blade at his throat, he remembered thinking, I can’t do this anymore. Two weeks later he stood in Emily Prentiss’ office handing her his resignation. 

It briefly crossed his mind to teach full time. He’d been working more and more at Marlborough over the last few years and they’d always told him if he ever decided to leave the BAU there was a permanent position for him there.

But the thought had been short lived, barely a blip on his radar. And somehow he circled back to that conversation with JJ a few months prior to his abduction by the cult. 

None of his former teammates could wrap their heads around the idea of Doctor Spencer Reid moving to live on the outskirts of Bandera, a small town fifty three miles outside of San Antonio, Texas. 

He spent nearly his entire life savings on a ranch with almost sixty acres of land. It consisted of a single story wooden lodge in which he would live, fitted with a wrap-around porch for which he pictured himself relaxing in a rocker whilst watching the sunset over the rolling hills in the distance. It included a large barn, outhouse and stables, as well as a second, smaller lodge which was also habitable. 

He equipped his own lodge minimally, a couch, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and some bookshelves. He had the bare minimum kitchen appliances due to his inability to cook and his unwillingness to learn. 

He brought a whole new closet full of clothes more appropriate for the setting. Crisp, pressed shirts were replaced by denims, flannels and plain tees, his converse and dress shoes were tossed in lieu of sturdy work and riding boots. 

On behalf of a car, he brought a horse, a beautiful three year old, blue roan American Quarter Horse named Willow and to begin with purchased two cattle.

Now two years later he had four more cattle and two more horses. These two were stallions, both American Quarters, one black named Franklin and one brown called Wilbur. 

Somewhere not too far away was the sound of hooves padding around in the dirt and the occasional huff of impatience from the large beast. Spencer’s eyes opened again and he cautiously rolled his head to the side in the dust. His eyes met the cloven hooves and thick blue-grey legs of his trusty steed. 

“Willow,” he spoke, causing another huff of air to leave her mouth. “A dog, I should have gotten a dog. Lassie would be of much better use right now.” 

Willow cantered around him, as though frustrated herself that they were still here after all these hours. She’d nudged him a few times in his ribs with her muzzle, silently asking her owner what was going on. 

This was supposed to be a safer alternative to working at the BAU. After almost having his hyoid bone claimed by Merva he’d decided he’d put himself in harm's way for long enough. 

But upon travelling back to town after taking Willow for a morning saunter into nearby Pipe Creek, he’d come across a wild horse at the side of the road. 

The mare didn’t appear, on first glance, to be injured in any way but she was certainly a little skittish as he approached. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay before going on his way. 

She was a flaxen and elegant beauty. Her chestnut-red coat billowed like a flame under the blazing sun and her golden-blonde mane like a wild halo as she galloped around in haste. 

As he neared her on Willow’s back, his own steed seemed to agitate the other and she started to buck and neigh in fright. Not to be easily perturbed he tried to calm her with a series of “whoa girls,” and gentle pats of her back. 

But then the wild horse let out a piercing sound, her back legs lifting effortlessly off of the ground and kicking Willow in the neck. 

Willow herself had bucked at the impact, her front legs rising. Unprepared, he hadn’t been holding her reins and one foot hung at her side out of its stirrup, causing Spencer to slide back on her saddle. 

He quickly tried to grab hold of something but coordination had never been his strong suit. It had taken him months worth of lessons to even be able to ride a horse and although he was an efficient rider now, it hadn’t improved his motor skills. 

And so he slid, and he continued to slide as Willow raised herself on her haunches until she was almost vertical. His one foot was still in the stirrup, and as he fell his knee twisted with force, the same knee he’d been shot in so many years ago. 

He swore he felt the tendons ripping beneath his skin and he screamed out in pain whilst trying to dislodge his foot. Once freed he flew to the ground, back slamming into the dirt with a thud and a groan. 

He glanced up, pain searing through his body as Willow lowered herself back to the earth. The second horse was galloping wildly, still screeching out in fear. Willow approached it and Spencer groaned out, not wanting his own steed to be hurt by this out of control creature.

As expected, the wild horse bucked at Willow again but Willow trotted out of her way this time. Spencer slithered a hand out into the dirt, clicking his fingers at his mare to come to his aid. But instead of his own horse, it garnered the attention of the wild beast who suddenly ran at him with a fearsome gait. 

He heard the bone in his arm crunching under the weight of the creature's heavy hoof as it galloped over his outstretched limb. He screamed loudly, the sound getting no further than the lonesome desert and petering out into nothing. 

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

If Spencer Reid screams out in pain in the desert and no one is around to hear him, is he going to die alone?

He still had his old cell phone, he only kept it at Penelope’s insistence at being able to get in touch with him, check he was doing okay living the life of a hermit. He only used it to speak with his old team and as such, didn’t often take it out with him. 

Right now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, next to his empty coffee mug and the book he’d been reading over breakfast. And now due to the oversight, he would no doubt die out here.

Willow trotted a little closer, bowed her head near to the ground and nudged Spencer in the ribs again, as if this might make him miraculously stand up and take her home. 

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. “Shoulda got a dog. Man’s best friend, that’s what Alvez always said.” 

Willow simply nudged him again and he rolled his tired and sore eyes. 

Gritting his teeth, he decided to try and sit again. He braced his forearms against the ground, trying to turn a blind eye to the pain that rippled through his left extremity at the small movement. There was almost certainly a bone broken, maybe more than one. 

Attempting to ignore the way the pain spread up and down his arm, causing a fire to burn through his entire upper body, he pushed himself against the dirt in an attempt to sit up right. The throbbing in his arm combined with the swell of discomfort down his spine made another booming groan erupt from his lungs and he moved no more than a few inches off the ground before, panting with the exertion, he fell back against the dirt.

Even if he was to get into a sitting position, he had no doubts that he wouldn’t make it any further. Without looking he knew his knee was swollen, ballooned up so much it was now pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to walk even if he could stand. 

“Well, Willow, I guess this is the end of the road.” He closed his eyes, folding his good arm across his chest and leaving the other in the dirt at his side. “It’s ironic really, all those years at the BAU, all those times I thought I might die. This is not how I expected to meet my death.”

He felt oddly resided to this fate, almost feeling some kind of twisted relief. There really was no point in panicking, there was nothing he could do. 

May as well lean into it, let it happen. 

Keeping his eyes closed he breathed out through his nose, accepting that this was the way his life came to an end. They’d probably never even find his body and if they did it would be too scavenged by vultures to make a positive ID. Probably for the best, he couldn't imagine Garcia or JJ or any of the others having to identify his decomposed and ravaged remains.

He felt himself drifting swiftly, the heat and lack of hydration making him implausibly sleepy. He didn’t fight it, he let the tiredness wash over him. But before he could succumb entirely, his ears pricked at a sound off in the distance. 

His eyes shot open once more and he tried to turn his head towards the road beyond the desert. If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard the sound of tires on the gritty asphalt.

***

It was getting dark and you felt your eyes growing increasingly heavier. You’d been driving for hours, days in fact, stopping only for gas and to stock up on snacks and energy drinks. 

Thinking of which, you loosened one hand from the steering wheel and reached blindly for the can sitting in the cup holder. Your hand wrapped around the lukewarm metal cylinder and brought it to your lips without taking your eyes off of the road. 

The liquid was warmer than the can itself and you grimaced as it trickled down your throat. Grumbling under your breath you replaced the can in the cup holder and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. 

You were heading for the border via desert roads and inconspicuous towns. You needed to lay low until you reached Mexico where you could keep your head down, keep your nose close to the ground. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t meant to end this way. Your plan had gone wrong somewhere along the line and now you had to keep driving, until you reached your destination. 

You were tired to your bones, the dull ache from driving countless miles seeping deep into every muscle. But you couldn’t stop. You had the push through and keep going no matter how exhausted you were. 

You found yourself on a long stretch of desert road after passing through a small town, its signage declaring it Pipe Creek, Texas. The AC rattled through the car, almost blocking out the hum from the radio. 

You couldn’t afford to use a GPS system, if you knew where you were others could know where you were too. You’d brought an old paper map early into your journey and if your bearings were correct you should be passing through the town of Bandera within a few miles. 

You stifled a yawn and despite your better judgement, took another sip of the warm energy drink. It wasn’t warding off the tiredness, only making your heart thump heavily and a little erratically in your chest.

You stifled yet another yawn, eyes closing for a fraction of a second longer than was safe but the road thus far had been desolate. 

However, upon opening your eyes there was suddenly a large and imposing creature standing several feet in front of your speeding car. 

Your eyes grew wide and you slammed on the brake, the speed in which you’d been travelling forcing the vehicle to spin a little on its axis, gravel crunching under tires. 

You tugged on the wheel as the car turned to the right, trying to straighten up as you came to a sudden and screeching halt. You breathed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the huge beast through your windscreen in the glow of your headlights. 

The horse blinked several times at you, as though trying to convey a message but it remained on the road. 

You exhaled loudly, keeping the engine running so as to keep the lights on, you threw open the door and stepped onto the asphalt. 

“Where the fuck did you come from?” You glared at the horse, not daring to come too close in case it was vicious. 

The horse blinked a few more times before bowing its head towards the side of the road. You frowned at it, watching it slowly canter in the direction it nodded. 

“Okay, good.” You nodded with a frown as it walked off. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you, you crazy horse.” 

As you turned back to your open door, over the sound of gravel crunching beneath the horses hooves, your ears picked up on another sound. 

Turning back to where the horse had meandered, you squinted into the darkness, focusing your hearing. 

“H-help? Please?” A crackly voice met your ears. 

A shiver passed up your spine, suddenly on high alert. 

“Is someone there?” You called back, not daring to move away from your vehicle. 

“P-please? I’m really hurt.” The voice came again. 

The horse had stopped walking now, you could just make out its figure in the dark. To its left was another figure laying in the dirt. 

“Uh, you okay?” You called again, still not daring to come closer. 

You didn’t trust this situation, you were a naturally suspicious person and this didn’t sit right with you. The horse had been used to get you to stop and you had no doubts if you were to go over to this person who claimed they needed help you’d find yourself in grave danger. 

“No I’m not okay!” The voice grew exasperated. “I fell off my horse. I’m fairly certain I’ve broken my arm and twisted my knee. I can’t move.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, huddling against the side of the car.

“No offence mister, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying to you?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“No! I swear! I’m a…” he trailed off and sucked in a breath. I’m a what? What did he plan on saying? I’m an FBI Agent? It had been years since he’d left the BAU but the habit to announce himself as such still lived inside of him. “I’m in a great deal of pain.” 

You clutched yourself tighter, rolling your lip between your teeth in silent contemplation. He did sound in pain, but he could have just been a good actor. 

“Look, I’m really not itching to get murdered tonight and I’m kinda in a hurry.” You scuffed the toe of your sneaker in the dirt. 

“You can’t leave me here!” The voice begged. “You’re the first car to pass in hours! I need to go to the hospital.” 

“I…I really have to go.” You shuffled towards the open car door. 

“So you’re just going to leave me here to die?” The voice turned sour. “Because that’s what will happen. If I don’t die of dehydration or starvation, I will undoubtedly be eaten alive by all manner of animals that live out here. Hell, my horse will probably turn against me if she’s not fed soon. Do you really want that on your conscience?” 

You grumbled under your breath, looking between the car and the shadowy figure on the ground. With a huff you spun towards the vehicle and climbed onto your knees on the driver's seat. Reaching across the central console you popped open the glove compartment and withdrew the item sheathed inside. 

He heard you land back in the gravel before the sound of tentative footsteps getting closer. The dirt crunched under your feet, your eyes flitting between the silhouette and the horse who was ambling around. The item you’d gotten from the car was being held in both hands, pointing at the figure on the floor.

As you drew closer you started to make out some features. He appeared to be tall, even laying down, slim build with a mop of dirty curls brushing against the ground. He wore jeans, a denim shirt over a white tee and a black stetson laid on his chest. 

He blinked a couple of times as you came into view, trying to lift his head to get a better look at you. But what he saw made the colour drain from his face and his eyes bulged from his head.

“What the hell?” He tried to shuffle backwards but he couldn’t move due to the pain coursing through him. “What are you doing?” 

The barrel of a revolver was staring at him between your hands, pointing directly at his head. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he scrambled to move but his limbs were uncooperative. 

He stared down the barrel of countless guns in his time with the BAU, not to mention the fact that out in these parts many people carried shotguns. He wasn’t usually so perturbed by seeing weapons, even when they were pointing at him, but this was an exception.

“You really hurt?” You stepped a little closer until you were standing right by his booted feet. 

“Yes!” He tried to insist. “P-please put the gun away.” 

You didn’t at first, keeping it levelled at him while you gave him a once over. One of his knees was clearly swollen under the fabric of his jeans and his left arm was bent and disarticulated. He genuinely didn’t seem as though he could move. 

With a sigh you lowered the gun, tucking it in the waistband of your own jeans. Cautiously you came closer to him until you were next to his chest where you knelt in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes were piercing, a deep intense brown with flecks of gold that glistened in the moonlight. He had high cheekbones and a chiselled jawline which was peppered with a few days worth of stubble. His parted lips were plump and chapped. 

Did he have to be so attractive?

“Can you help me up?” He asked, pouting slightly. 

“I can try.” You shrugged.

Shuffling closer you placed a hand on his shoulder, using your other hand to take hold of his. He flinched a little at your touch but you assumed it was due to the pain. 

You used your grip on his shoulder to manoeuvre him, peel him away from the ground and pulled the rest of his weight using his hand. He groaned deeply as he started to be lifted, the agony evident on his tongue. 

He tried to assist you even though the movement felt like it was sending daggers down his spinal column. He used you to anchor himself, steadily pulling him into a seated position. Once he was up, you let go of him and sat back on your haunches. 

“Now what?” You asked with a curious look. 

His face was contorted from the pain, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes downturned. 

“I…I have no idea.” He groaned. “There is no way I can stand.” 

“Should I call paramedics?” You picked up his stetson which had fallen into his lap and ran your fingers along the brim.

“I think that might be wise.” He agreed, pinching his eyes closed as the pain flooded through his limbs. 

Keeping hold of his hat in one hand you drew your cell phone from your pocket and dialled 9-1-1. It was only when the phone was already to your ear that it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was. 

You’d been so careful up until now, was this handsome cowboy going to be your downfall? 

You noticed the way your voice pitched and cracked as you informed the operator of what had happened and tried to explain where exactly you were with a little help from the stranger. 

Somewhere between Pipe Creek and Bandera. You’ll see a car. And a damn horse.  

Within a few minutes you were off the phone. 

He was leaning back against his good arm, hand braced against the dirt behind him. His eyes were still closed and you saw his face twitching with each surge of pain. 

“So, uh, you new at this?” You waved the stetson in the direction of the horse who was still ambling around. 

He opened his eyes and looked between you and his trusty steed. 

“No, I just…there was this wild horse and I was trying to check to see if she was okay. She got spooked by Willow and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He closed his eyes again.

“Willow? Cute.” You smiled slightly at the great beast. “A little intimidating.” 

“She may look that way but she’s incredibly docile. Maybe a little unpredictable in new scenarios but on the whole she’s pretty placid.” His eyes squeezed tighter as another wave of pain thrummed along his spine. 

“Uh,” you continued looking between him and the horse as a thought occurred to you. “Where does she go when you get taken away to the hospital?”

His eyes opened again, landing on you in a look that told you it also hadn’t occurred to him either. 

“You, uh, know how to ride?” He tried his luck.

“No I don’t not.” You scoffed. “I’m a city girl. I know nothing about horses.” 

“She’s incredibly intelligent. She knows the way home, she just needs the impetus to get there.” Once again his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Meaning?” 

“She’ll walk beside your car, show you the way. But you’d need to feed her in order to keep her going. I can get her to do it without the treats but you’re a stranger to her.” His fingers dug into the dirt, the ache that spread up and down the length of his back was brutal. 

And then there was the pain shooting through his left arm and the throb in his old knee injury. This was not the day he had planned.

“So you’re proposing I take your horse home?” You scoffed at the ludicrousy of it. 

“She won’t make it back on her own.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but stopped short when it caused a new eruption of pain. 

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” You shook your head, still fingering the stetson.

“I’ll admit it's a little unorthodox, but I can’t leave her out here.” He forced his eyes open, pleading with you. 

“I told you, I’m really in a hurry to get somewhere.” You shook your head. “I called the paramedics, I did the good Samaritan thing. But as soon as they get here, I’ve really gotta go.” 

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Seems like that’s none of your business.” 

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” He shook his head lightly but even that caused him to wince. “It’s late is all, I was just wondering where you had to be in such a rush.” 

“Never you mind.” You grumbled. “But the sooner I get there I can finally rest. I’ve been driving for days.” 

“Do this for me and you can spend the night at my ranch.” He whined slightly as he spoke. 

“Excuse me?” You shuffled in the dirt. 

“Oh gosh,” he huffed. “Not like that. I’m not…I’m not hitting on you. I am undoubtedly going to have to spend the night in hospital, I have a spare lodge on my ranch which doesn’t get used. If you get Willow home for me, you can spend the night, you must be tired.” 

You shuffled again, still for some reason playing with his stetson in your hands in an absent mind. He was looking at you with a pleading expression, begging you to do this for him. But it all seemed too weird.

“You’re willing to let a stranger stay in your home without you even being there?” You clicked your tongue. 

“If it means Willow gets home safe, yes.” He sighed.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” You reached forward and placed the stetson atop his head gently.

“I really don’t have a lot worth stealing. I mean I have more horses and cattle…nothing really worth anything unless you're a rancher which clearly you aren’t. I’m willing to risk it.” He once again tried to shrug but groaned at the effort. 

“This is insane.” You shook your head, unbelieving you were even considering this. 

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal circumstances but I need to go to the hospital, and I also need to get Willow home. And if you continue to drive all night you’re going to end up in an accident. In a weird way it’s kinda a win-win situation.” 

“Until I rob you.” 

“You’re not gonna rob me.” For the first time a smile spread to his lips, the pain momentarily slipping away from his features. 

It was a damn nice smile, one which you were sure it was impossible to say no to. But nonetheless you tried.

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” You swallowed. 

“I'm good at reading people.” His smile grew a little. “You have a trustworthy face.” 

“Oh do I?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

“Mm hmm.” He nodded, seemingly forgetting all the pain he’d previously been in. “A very trustworthy, very pretty face.” 

You swallowed again, shuffling backwards in the dirt slightly in discomfort. Spencer averted his eyes at his omission. The pain must have been going to his head, maybe it was due to the dehydration. It was unlike him to be so bold. 

“Oh jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine, fine I’ll take your stupid horse-”

“Willow, her name is Willow.” 

“I’ll take Willow home for you and I may or may not stay at your ranch and then I may or may not rob you.” 

“And then you may or may not pick me up from the hospital in the morning? Assuming I’m allowed to leave so soon.” His smile was growing, but the pinch of pain was back in his eyes. 

“Are you for real?” You hissed. “No, no I am not doing that.” 

“I don’t have a car, and the nearest hospital is just outside of San Antonio, like forty five miles southeast of here. How do you expect me to get home?” His smile faded.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” You suddenly pushed yourself to your feet. “I don’t have time to hang around this little Podunk place. I have to be somewhere.” 

He was silent for a moment or two, looking up at you under the wide brim of his stetson. His eyes shone in the moonlight and caused your stomach to coil into knots. 

“Fine.” He spat. “Just go, sorry I bothered you. So much for that southern charm.”

“Never said I was from the south.” You rolled your eyes. 

You fell silent and in the distance you both noted the distinctive sound of sirens. Seconds later you saw the red and blues lighting up the dark stretch of road, heading in your direction. 

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

“You're off the hook, you did your good deed now you’re free to go.” The man scoffed, a sarcastic twang evident in his voice. 

“Goddamnit,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Fine, I will take your damn horse home.”

“Willow.” He corrected you and when you looked back down at him he had a mildly smug smile on his lips. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You huffed. 

Soon the ambulance was screeching to a stop next to your car and two paramedics jumped out the front of the vehicle. 

You stood aside while the cowboy, who told them his name was Spencer Reid, explained what had happened with the wild horse and how he’d ended up on the floor unable to move for hours. 

One of the paramedics got a stretcher out the back of the vehicle while the other delicately helped Spencer to lay back down in the dirt. The stretcher was brought over and lowered down as far as it would go. 

“This might hurt a little, sir.” The woman, who was near his head, spoke. 

“Mm hmm.” Spencer grit his teeth, readying himself for the pain.

The female EMT tucked her gloved hands gently under Spencer’s shoulders while the man wrapped his around Spencer’s ankles. 

You hovered near the horse - Willow - arms tucked around your waist. You curled in on yourself at the howl of pain that erupted from Spencer when he was lifted onto the stretcher. The EMT’s were quick to strap him in and lead him across the bumpy ground towards the ambulance. 

“Sorry, can you give me a minute?” His voice pierced over the sound of the wheels on gravel before they stilled.

He looked towards you and beckoned you closer with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. 

“My keys are in my right front pocket.” He cast his eyes downwards. 

You drew your lips into a tight line and huffed a little. It felt like crossing over a line diving into the pocket of a stranger but you’d moved so far past this being weird it almost seemed normal. You fished in his pocket and pulled out a loop of keys. 

“The biggest one, that’s the key to my lodge. Inside the lodge on the hook is another key for my other cabin where you can stay the night. The linen is fresh and there’s clean towels on the back of the door in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in my fridge.” He told you. 

“And how do I find it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, keys dangling from your index finger. 

“Willow will show you the way, she’s well trained. Oh, her treats!” He used his good hand to pat the pocket on his shirt.

You huffed once more, manoeuvring around the EMT’s to his other side and freeing a ziploc bag full of apple and carrot slices. 

“The stable is a little way left of my lodge, you can’t miss it. There are two other horses there, her paddock is the one on the far right. Can you take her number down?” He glanced at the paramedic nearest him. “Have someone call her when I’m discharged?” 

The paramedics clearly sensed there was a strange story here but neither wanted to ask. Instead the man reached for a clipboard tucked inside the van and handed it to you. 

It was a patient intake form and he pointed with one finger towards the emergency contact section whilst handing you a pen. 

With a sigh you took it, scrawled down your number and - without hesitation - a fake name before handing it back to him. 

“Thank you for this. I owe you one.” He offered you a meek smile. 

“Oh you owe me more than one.” You grumbled as they set about lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

You watched them load him, the man staying in the back of the cab while the woman closed the doors and went to the front. Soon the engine was starting back up and the ambulance turned back towards the way it had come and drove off, sending particles of dust flying in its wake. 

Holding a stranger's keys in one hand and a bag of fruit and veg on the other, you turned back to the horse - Willow you kept reminding yourself - who was seemingly watching the ambulance retreat with her owner. 

Cautiously you stepped closer to the giant mare, hesitant steps, holding up the bag of goodies. 

“Say, Willow?” You rustled the bag and she turned to look at you. “What do you say you show me where you live?” 

Willow seemed to perk up and trotted closer to you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say the beast was smiling at you.  

You opened the ziploc bag and pulled out a slightly slimy slice of apple and dangled it in front of her eye line. 

You started walking backwards towards your car whilst keeping your eyes on Willow who was following appeasingly, eyes trained on the piece of fruit. 

When you reached your car you held the slice in the palm of your hand and proffered it towards her. She gratefully took it, large gums spreading across your open hand while she shuffled the slice into her mouth. 

You grimaced at the feeling, her saliva coating your hand in a muddy, sticky mess. You wiped your hand on the thigh of your jeans. 

“Gross. So gross.” You sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Why the hell am I doing this again?” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid au #cowboy spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[miley1442111]

pride-part one. (a.hotchner, s.reid)

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: both of them love you, but you will be there for you?

pairing: potential aaron hotchner x gideonreader, potential spencer reid x gideonreader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, gore and brief descriptions of harm, fighting, mentions of child abuse, mutual pining, heavy topics, angst, death, illusions to smut, etc.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on three things, his career, his son (though he did not pride himself on his parenting, only Haley’s), and his patience. 

Two of those things were on the line the second you joined the BAU. You had joined the BAU 7 months ago. When Strauss had told him he was getting a new profiler, and that this profiler would be a licensed psychiatrist and former Agent Gideon’s daughter, he was ecstatic, prepared for your insight and helpful ideas. When you walked into his office on that fateful morning, his excitement was crushed and replaced with an overwhelming sense of desire and disgust with his own feelings. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer Reid believed he couldn’t be loved. He had been rejected and shut down by everyone. Jj, being the most recent. He saw Gideon as a surrogate father, so he was interested to see what his daughter was like. He had not expected you. Your wit and intelligence actually matched his, your beauty truthfully made his mind blank, and your kindness pulled him in further. He was utterly fucked. 

Both of them were. 

——————————-------------------------------------------------------

“Dr. Gideon!” Spencer sped over to you the second you opened the door to the bullpen. “Y/n,” he smiled and you smiled back. 

“Morning Doctor,” you had never stopped using his title within the walls of the FBI building. You only called him by his name outside of work, which was rare considering you rarely went on nights out, choosing to stay home with a book instead. Something Spencer would prefer, but he always agreed to the nights out, in hopes that you’d choose to tag along. 

“How are you?” He asked, trying to create conversation. 

“I’m fine thanks, how are you? How was the festival this weekend? Sorry I couldn’t go.” He knew shouldn’t have allowed his heart to swell at you remembering his weekend plans, considering you also had an eidetic memory and the fact that you had bought him the ticket to go with you, but had to cancel in the end due to a family emergency. Yet his heart swelled all the same. 

“It was amazing, I finally had time to brush up on my-“ Spencer had begun a ramble, but Aaron’s voice rang through the bullpen, calling your name. You politely excused yourself and promised Spencer you’d be right back to hear all about the French film festival he had attended that weekend. 

You walked into Aaron’s office, a pleasant smile on your face. “You called, sir?”

“We have a case,” he gritted out. “It’s bad.”

“To be honest sir, I assume nothing less,” you admitted, but also knew there must have been more to this. “Was that all sir?”

“Is Dr. Reid distracting you from work?” Aaron asked and you were taken aback. 

“No sir, sorry. We’re just friends and he was filling me in about a film festival we were supposed to go to this weekend. I had a family emergency and had to cancel on him. I’ll get straight back to work, sorry again sir,” you answered truthfully, he dismissed you and closed the door behind you as you left.

His hands flew into his hair. He was jealous. He was jealous of Spencer. He was jealous that you and Spencer had plans and he hadn’t even heard you say his own name. You always called him sir. To say it didn’t go straight to his dick would be a lie, but it had gotten better since you’d joined the Bureau. He wanted you. He felt like he needed you. Though you were significantly younger than him and way out of his league in his eyes, he still wanted you. And he wanted you badly. But somehow, for once in his life, Spencer  had the upper hand. You and him had shared interests, you both spoke many languages, you were both equally intelligent (technically you had a higher IQ, at 188), and you were similar ages. Everyone on the team had literal bets on how long it would take you to get together, and he agreed with the logic. You were perfect for each other. You were essentially the same person, evenly matched, evenly blended. Yet it didn’t stop him from wanting you. He felt like nothing could.

You walked back to your desk, starting your work once again. Spencer snuck up behind you and started talking about the festival. You listened, offering small comments and nods in between his sentences as you worked on the reports for the last case. 

“Sorry guys,” Jj’s voice quieted the entire bullpen. “Another case.” 

You all walked into the conference room, Aaron already in there with Jj. Pictures of disfigured and bloodied people lined the screen and you grimaced, then recognised someone. You sat down as your stomach sank. It surely couldn’t be her, right?

“One of the victims, her name was Maisie-” You let out a whimper at the name of your sister. All eyes were on yours and you were out of the room before anyone could question you. You ran out of the conference room, over to your desk to grab your phone. You dialled your mothers number. No answer. 

You dialled your sister's number. No answer.  

You dialled your brother’s number. No fucking answer. 

You finally dialled your father’s number as Penelope and Emily stood in front of you, a worried expression on both their faces. 

“Hello?”

“Dad? Dad!” You left out a breath of relief. “What’s going on?”

“Kid, I’m so sorry-” He sighed. “Maisie and your mom, they’re gone.” 

Your heart stopped. You stopped breathing. You could only think about the last thing you’d said to your sister before you went no-contact. Your memories drowned out the pleas from your father and friends to calm down and know that it wasn’t your fault.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re being dramatic!” Maisie yelled, her head in her hands. 

“You don’t have to understand my decision, you just have to respect it,” you sighed, your bags packed at your feet. “I love you-”

“You don’t do this to someone you love!” Your sister screamed in your face, getting too close for comfort, in your opinion. 

“I love you Maisie. I really hope you get the help you need, but I refuse to be your punching bag anymore. Physically and emotionally. Goodbye.”

You had started to walk out the door when your mother spoke up, the first time in a year. 

“You’re not my daughter anymore. My daughter would never leave her family. You’re just like your poor-excuse of a father.”

“You’re not my sister anymore,’ your sister added. 

“Then I guess we don’t know each other then,” and with that, you left. And you never turned back. 

Leaving them broke you, but staying there would’ve killed you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/n!” Derek’s voice brought you back to life, your father’s voice still speaking to you over the phone.  “Take a breath!” 

You had been hyperventilating for the past minute, everyone on the team was terrified. You were always the quiet and collected one. You always knew what to do. You were calm. You were logical.

Now, you were scared. You were mourning. You were grief-stricken. 

You hung up on your father, sitting in your desk chair. “It’s my mother and sister, they’re the victims.”

Your voice was calmer than you felt, which made you sick to your stomach. The faces of the entire team all dropped. Spencer moved to be closer to you, to comfort you, but he was stopped by Derek, it wasn’t the time to think about himself. It was time to think about you, and this case. Aaron shared a look with Jj. The killer was targeting your family. The killer was targeting you. 

Your phone rang again, your brother’s number popped up on your screen. You answered without hesitation and brought it to your ear. 

“Hey,” he sighed. He knew. 

“Hey.”

“You know?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Did you tell the kids yet?” you asked, referencing his children. “And Sophie?”

“Sophie got the call. I was at w-work. The kids don’t know. I’m so sorry Y/n.”

“I’m sorry too. I’ll be there soon-”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “I-in mom’s will, she finalised it a few months ago, she said you weren’t allowed at her funeral. I’m s-so sorry.” 

Your heart broke again. “It’s fine,” you blinked back the tears. “I’m fine. My teams are investigating-”

“I’ll see you soon Y/n.” 

He hung up. The office was silent. 

“Who was that?” Penelope asked softly, a hand in yours. 

“My brother. I need to go home,” You wiped your eyes. “I need to get my bag and we need to be in the air within the hour.” 

The team nodded and suddenly, everything was loud again. Life hadn't halted. The wind blew outside, the birds sang in the trees, the phones in the office didn't stop ringing, the sounds of keyboards hadn’t been silenced. 

That was just you. 

Only you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Touching down in your hometown of 'Fighertown USA', San Diego felt surreal. Your brother, Michael, met you at the airstrip with his wife, Sophie and three children, Ryan, Freddie, and Georgia. They all ran up to hug you, red-rimmed eyes and deflated frames gave their grief away and made you forget about your own. You departed from the team to help with funeral preparations and to identify their bodies. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The team hadn’t stopped thinking about you, especially not Spencer or Aaron. Aaron was terrified for you, everyone was. Spencer wished he had been able to read the brief on the plane, wished he could’ve told you what danger you were in. You were what the unSub wanted. 

“Hotch I really think someone should go check on her, they’re all in danger-” Spencer tried to argue with him but he held a hand up to stop him.

“I’ve already sent police to the house and Derek and I will be staying there tonight,” Aaron was being selfish, he knew that. Keeping Spencer from you was childish and petty and he knew it. He knew it. But he also knew the only way he’d even be able to convince himself that you were alright is if he was with you. It was a miracle he had even let you go to leave with your family at the airstrip, he didn’t want to. The entire plane ride you’d been holding his hand, in his arms, or napping on his lap. He was grateful that you trusted him. He felt special, sue him.

“You and Derek? Can I come to check on her too-” Spencer tried. He wanted to keep a level-head, he truly tried, but he couldn’t. Not when Aaron dismissed him and walked off, getting ready to leave. Spencer caught up with him outside. “Hotch! Can I just come to check on her-”

“There’s going to be a lot of people around her, you don’t need to be one more,” he sighed. 

“And you won’t be?” he shot back, halting Aaron’s footsteps as Derek turned to him. “I actually know her. I spend time with her outside of the office,” was it a lie? No. But truthfully, it had only happened once, and it was only by chance. You went to the same cinema as him, and it turned out you both had tickets to the same film. You sat together, then got lunch. It was nice. He thought about it constantly.

“Spencer,” Aaron’s voice was a warning. “Do not do this right now.”

“Why not?” 

“Kid, drop it,” Derek sighed. “I’ll bring you to see her tomorrow. Now go work on the geological profile.” 

Derek and Aaron ducked into the SUV, leaving Spencer alone outside the station. He sighed and decided that he would be the one to bring the unSub in. He wanted you safe. That’s all he cared about. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Derek and Aaron reached your family home, they were amazed to see the amount of people there. Jason invited them in and explained the situation. He and your mother had divorced and he had left. Your sister had been abusive throughout your childhood, teenage years, and young adulthood. You didn’t tell him until you’d left. Aaron felt sick. You had been abused as a child. A terrible thought made its way into his head, maybe you did have something in common.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #bau team #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #mgg #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #spencer reid fanfiction

[freckles-things]

Signs of the Past

Summary: A new case at a high school, a young girl with an uncanny resemblance to one Aaron Hotchner and a revelation that shakes up both of their lives.

Requested by: @duruxoxo (I hope it’s what you had in mind. I’m sorry that it took me so long!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader; BAU Team x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Jack and Hailey don’t exist in this one, case typical violence, mention of death/killing

----

Agent Aaron Hotchner, the stoic leader of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, sat at his desk, pouring over case files. The team was investigating a series of disturbing incidents revolving around the disappearance of high school students as well as staff. Reports indicated that women and girls who worked at or went to the same school were targeted, and the disappearance of the third girl had finally triggered their involvement. So, the team had gathered around the conference room, exchanging theories and discussing possible suspects and motives. JJ was currently pinning the pictures of the three missing girls and women to the whiteboard, while Spencer wrote some of the keywords they’d gathered for each underneath them. Rossi was looking at the folder containing information about possible suspects while Prentiss went through a list of former and current teaching staff. Derek was going through the list and pictures of the entire student body, trying to suss out if one of them could be responsible and who could possibly be the next victim.

„Hey Bossman, found a picture of your mini-me. You sure that you don’t have a kid? The resemblance is kinda uncanny, she’s got the Hotchner-Stare“, he suddenly spoke up, gaze fixed on one of the pictures of a young girl.

Hotch furrowed his brow at the ridiculous statement but accepted the picture, obviously taken from a yearbook, nonetheless. The rest of the team curiously gathered around him to catch a glimpse. He had to admit that the girl had a certain familiarity about her. He couldn’t quite place it, but he could see what Derek meant. If he didn’t know better, if he were a stranger looking at the picture, he might have come to the same conclusion. As it was, he pushed the photo back towards Morgan with a slight shake of his head.

„Concentrate. We want to get the UNSUB before there’s a fourth victim.“

Derek just shrugged and continued his search through the list while the rest of the team went back to their respective tasks as well.

„He’s right though, the resemblance is uncanny“, Rossi commented absentmindedly. Hotch just cleared his throat and pointedly looked at the folder laying in front of Dave.

In the end, the search through the mountain of documents didn’t bring any new knowledge, nor did it give them a lead. There was just one single thing that stood out to them, and that was the school itself as the connection between all of the victims. With nothing else to investigate, the team decided to make their way to the school to gather information first hand and to speak to the students and the staff.

It was a slow process. The number of kids they had to talk with was ridiculously high, and the teaching staff wasn’t very forthcoming either. The team had only gotten two unused classrooms for the interviews, so the pace they were going at was infuriatingly slow to all of them. They all knew how crucial the timing was, that a single hour could make a difference between life and death. Quite literally, in this case. Hotch could see the frustration on his teams face as the teaching staff didn’t give them the required information under the pretence of data security. He could see how Derek physically restrained himself from yelling, how Emily was close to losing her patience or how Spencer’s gaze flickered to the clock above the door every other minute, the nervous tapping against his leg getting more pronounced as time went on.

"We're done with interviews," Hotch announced suddenly to the startled looks of his team as well as the deputy headmistress they were currently in the middle of questioning.

"This obviously leads us nowhere. The staff won't cooperate, the number of students is simply too high. We're wasting time. Time the victims don't have."

He could see Rossi nodding approvingly and hear JJ's relieved sigh.

"We're going to divide ourselves. Emily and Derek, JJ and Rossi. Reid, you're with me. We're going to attend classes. Go in, spend a few minutes in the back of the room, and see if you can spot anything suspicious or noteworthy. If someone catches your eye, either question them immediately or write down their names for later. We're going to meet up here at lunch and see what we've got then."

The team nodded, and the pairs hastily left the stuffy classroom, coordinating which team would visit which classes as they went. It took Hotch five interrupted lessons until his eye caught something noteworthy. It was the girl Derek had pointed out over her resemblance to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spencer watching her, too. He watched how she leaned towards the boy sitting beside her, the way her eyebrows furrowed the exact same way his own did when he questioned something. Her face mostly serious, except for a slight quirk of her lips. Hotch shook his head and forced himself to survey the rest of the class. He didn't notice anything suspicious and, after a few minutes, exchanged a small nod with Reid, both moving to leave the room again.

"The resemblance was already uncanny in the picture that Derek had earlier. But seeing her mannerisms, she really is the female version of you. Biologically speaking, that is almost impossible considering she's not related to you. The likelihood of such a close resemblance in appearance and behaviour of two people worldwide is roughly 1%." Spencer immediately launched into a fascinated rant about genetics and statistics, but Hotch didn't really pay attention. His mind still preoccupied by the girl, Y/N, herself.

☆☆☆☆

It took them almost until noon before they’d checked in on all classes, made a list of everything that had been noteworthy or suspicious, and discussed it all. Going by the similarities of the victims, they were able to make out three students who might be the perpetrators' next targets. After another hour of discussion and theorising within the team, they were nearly a hundred per cent sure that Charlotte Jones was the most likely target of them. Emily was tasked to keep an eye on her and to get some more information, while Spencer and Derek started to interview the list of students and teachers, who had appeared to be suspicious. Rossi and JJ were tasked with taking another look around the school, while Hotch would wait for the information gathered by Prentiss. It only took her around 20 minutes before he received a list of names consisting of friends and acquaintances that were worth questioning.

He tasked one of the teaching stuff with collecting the required people while settling in the second classroom. The first six friends of Charlotte had no insights to offer, and while it wasn’t their fault, Hotch felt like banging his head on the table. Taking a deep breath, he called out for the next person to enter the room.

The door opened, and a girl took a few steps into the room. Hotch immediately realised it was Y/N. Her eyes met his, and her mouth opened slightly in astonishment and surprise. It was barely noticeable, and Hotch would have missed it if he didn't have the same habit.

"Please take a seat," he said gently while motioning towards the chair opposite of him. Her expression turned neutral again as she moved closer and did as asked.

"If you'd please state your full name for the protocol."

"Y/N Bennett," she softly answered. "Why am I being questioned?"

Hotch leaned back into his chair, ignoring the feeling of recognition at her last name for now, and gifted her with a rare smile to reassure her.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I work with the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the FBI. We're here because in the past two weeks, three girls and women have gone missing. Two of which were later found dead. We've been informed by some of the students that you are good friends with Charlotte Jones?"

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed again, her brown eyes meeting his without hesitation.

"Charlotte and I have known each other for years. We went to Little League together and have been friends ever since. But what does she have to do with this? She's one of the kindest people I know. She'd never hurt anyone."

"We think that she is the perpetrators next target. We already spoke with her and one of my colleagues is currently with her to make sure that she is safe", her shoulders, which had tensed at his explanation, relaxed a little with the knowledge that her friend was taken care of. "Did you, by any chance, know any of the first three victims?", he asked while presenting her with three pictures.

She leaned forward, giving the photographs a closer look before pointing at the first and last one. "Mrs. Williams worked in the school library in the afternoons, I didn't know her very well, though. And Amy had just transferred schools after her parents had to move states because of work." When she leaned back into her own chair, eerily mirroring Hotch's own pose, she narrowed her eyes again.

"They're dead?", she asked softly. The question took him aback, having expected the news to have reached the student body.

"You didn't know?" Her eyes drifted to the pictures again, shoulders slightly hunching in on herself, sadness now predominant in her face.

"No", she whispered. "Mrs. Davis, the headmistress, informed us at the last student meeting that Mrs. Williams was taking time off because of a family emergency and that Amy had had the opportunity to participate in an international sports competition. No one knew."

"I am sorry", Hotch gently said while his brain was working through all possible scenarios as to why the headmistress might have lied to staff and students - it would explain why no one was able to give them any information though. "If I'd know that you hadn't been aware, I wouldn't have sprung it onto you like that."

The corner of her lips quirked slightly as she assured him that it was alright.

"We were looking for a connection between all of the victims, and it seems you just might have pointed us in the right direction."

He gratefully dismissed her and called for the team to join him in the room, waiting until they'd all settled down.

"Did your mini-me have something interesting for us?", Derek smirked at him.

"She did. Apparently, Mrs. Davis never told anyone about the deaths of the victims. She made up excuses like family emergencies or sports competitions as the reason why people were missing." He could see the second his team understood the implications of what he'd said.

"She had a connection to all three victims as well as our suspected next targets," JJ muttered.

"And she's in the perfect position to hide what's going on. I'm sure she told the staff not to give out the information we required. And no one would question the reasons for the victims' absences when they are explained by the headmistress herself." Emily continued slowly.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the team left the room, determination and purpose filling their movements, Hotch called Rossi to stay back for a second.

"Will you be able to handle the arrest without me?", Hotch asked quietly.

Dave mustered him for a moment, his gaze piercing before his face split into a mischievous grin: "I guess you have some private matter to discuss with the mother of our lovely Y/N?"

Hotch blanched at his words, which just made Dave laugh at his reaction.

"We're not blind, Aaron. The resemblance is uncanny, too uncanny. And it's not just her looks. It's the way she carries herself and interacts with others. She's literally a female version of you. And you've been preoccupied ever since you spoke with her for the interview. I guess you recognised her last name?"

He just nodded and sighed: "Yes. Chloe and I had been a couple for nearly four years when we both received job offers at the opposite ends of the country. LA and Washington don't mix too well, but neither of us wanted to decline. We found that we both wanted different things in life and decided to split up on friendly terms. She never told me she was pregnant, and I'd like to believe that she would have since we stayed in contact for some time. I just - I want to know if she's mine."

Dave nodded, his warm hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly while meeting his eyes.

"I think you already know the answer. Go and talk to her. We can handle Mrs. Davis. We'll meet you here afterwards, alright?"

☆☆☆☆☆

He felt a bit like an asshole when he once again tasked one of the teaching staff to please collect one of the students. He paced up and down the classroom while he waited, nervously wringing his hands. He had no idea how to approach this matter. He never expected this to happen. How the hell was he going to explain this situation? When he turned around again, he stopped dead in his tracks. At the other end of the room stood Y/N.

Hotch couldn't tear his gaze away from her. His heart swelled with a mixture of joy and sorrow, realizing the years he had missed with his daughter while simultaneously being so grateful to get a chance to experience a connection he never thought he would. He felt an overwhelming need to bridge the gap between them, to make up for lost time, but he knew that he couldn’t just spring this onto her. Chloe hadn’t been very forthcoming in their conversation, she’d just confirmed that Y/N was indeed his and that after their breakup, when she hadn’t yet known that she was pregnant, she didn’t want to tie him down with a child. She didn’t react to his own argument that he’d had a right to know that he had a child, nor did she answer him when he asked what she’d told Y/N about her father. Their talk had barely lasted five minutes, on the front porch of the little house Chloe and Y/N lived in since she’d refused him entrance as soon as she’d recognised him.

Now, being back at the school, standing in the stuffy classroom again, for once in his life, he didn’t know how to approach the subject. Rossi, with his usually perceptive ways, had instantly recognised his facial expression as he’d come back, ushering the rest of the team out to get a late lunch after their successful arrest of Mrs. Davis. Y/N had arrived just as his colleagues left, now standing opposite him with her arms crossed over her chest and unrelentingly staring at him across the room.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she took a step towards him, her face set into a stony, neutral expression: “So, are you going to tell me why you just left mom and me to fend for ourselves?”

For the first time in a long time, Hotch wasn’t sure how to respond or react. He opened his mouth just to close it again.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you? I’m not that stupid. We look almost exactly the same. How big is the likelihood of that? And when I called mom earlier, she confirmed it. So, have you got anything to say or not?” She gave him approximately three seconds to respond before she turned around and moved back towards the door.

Seeing her reach for the door handle spurred his brain back into gear, realising that this most likely was his only chance to make this right and that Chloe apparently hadn’t talked about him very favourably.

“Y/N, wait, please. Let me explain”, his voice came out gentle and quieter than he had intended it to. It made her pause, though, which he counted as a slight win. She turned back towards him, shoulders tense and face still carefully neutral.

“Alright. I don’t really feel like it, but you’ve got 5 minutes, Agent Hotchner.”

He couldn’t completely hide his wince at her choice of address but nodded in acceptance. Hotch took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to decide how to start his explanation.

“You did notice correctly. And I know that you’re probably less than inclined to believe me right now, but I can assure you that it was as much of a surprise for me as it was for you”, he decided to ignore her unbelieving snort in favour of continuing with his explanation. “Your mother and I were a couple around 17 years ago. We had been together for almost four years, getting to know each other at school and then going on to study at the same university. We’d both graduated at the same time and had plans to move in together when we both received promising job offers. Chloe had a chance at getting her dream job in LA while I had a very promising offer in Washington. We sat down together to talk about it and found that neither of us was willing to decline their offer and that our general ideas for the future differed quite a lot. So, in the end, we decided that we should split up on amicable terms rather than wait until our relationship fell apart. I didn’t know your mother was pregnant and, when I spoke to her earlier, she told me that she hadn’t known either at the time.”

He kept his voice purposefully soft, paying attention to not letting the frustration at her mother bleed through.

“That’s not what I’ve heard”, was the only thing she said. He couldn’t make out any emotion on her face, which frustrated him to no end. He distantly wondered if his colleagues ever felt the same towards him. He felt helpless. He could do no more than try and explain the situation. He was aware that it sounded unlikely and ridiculous, especially if she’s been told something else entirely her entire life. Yet he wanted to be part of her life so badly. He’d already missed so many years. She was 16 years old, after all, nearly a grown woman already. And he felt slightly sick when he thought about all the things, all the first times in her life he had unwittingly missed. Yet, without really knowing her, he felt undeniably proud of the person she’d become. Throughout the day, from what the team was able to observe, she was quite intelligent, polite, kind, and gladly helped other’s out or stood up for them when they couldn’t do it themselves.

Maybe it was something about the expression on his face, but her stance softened just the tiniest bit. A sigh escaped her lips.

“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth. I don’t know a lot of things right now. To be honest, I feel way out of my depth. I never thought I’d find out who my father was. I think I need some time to sort through all of this”, he noticed that she also kept her tone of voice carefully neutral.

Hotch nodded in understanding. It would have been naive and foolish to think that she’d instantly accept everything she’d just learned today. Not only had she found out that two people she knew had been killed by a person, who was supposed to keep her and the rest of the students and staff safe, and that one of her closest friend had nearly turned out to be the next victim. She also, surprisingly and without any warning, had come face to face with a father she’d never expected to meet as well as having to sort through two entirely different stories of what had happened. The very foundation of her life had been shaken up within a day. A place where she should have felt safe no longer did. Her understanding of her family and origin suddenly changed.

“I understand”, Hotch acknowledged gently. “I didn’t expect anything else. I wrote down my private number on one of my business cards. If you feel like you’ve worked through everything and want to stay in contact, you can call at any time.”

She slowly took the card he held out and carefully tucked it into her pocket, which Hotch counted as a positive sign. He hesitated for a second, not sure if he should say any more, but came to the conclusion that it couldn’t get much worse.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions for your mother and for me as well. And I’m also sure that you might not want to hear this, but I wish I’d found out sooner that I have a daughter. I would have loved to be a part of your life before now. But I plan on being a part of your life for as long as you’ll have me. I will not force you to. If you decide that you never want to see me again, I will accept it. I don’t want to make your life any more difficult than it already is. But if you want me in your life, I’ll be there.”

Her brown eyes bored into his for a long moment before she simply nodded and left the room. Hotch continued to stand in the stuffy, bare classroom for quite some time. He knew that he couldn’t do much. He didn’t have the right to force himself into her life if she didn’t want him there. He would respect her decision. Even if it might break his heart. Because even if he’d only known her for barely a day, his heart was so full of his daughter, a daughter he didn’t knew he had, that he felt like it might burst any second.

☆☆☆☆

It was about a week later that Hotch was surprised by a knock on his front door on his day off. He had expected a lot of people on the other side of the door - maybe a salesperson or someone collecting for charity, some religious group, or a boy scout trying to sell cookies. He hadn’t however expected to come face to face with a very nervous looking Y/N. For a second, they just stared at each other before he suddenly found himself stumbling back a few steps as her smaller body barrelled into his, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her close to his body. He felt how her shoulders shook underneath his hands and heard her sobs that were muffled against his shoulder. One of his hands came up to cup the back of her head, whispering soft words of comfort against her hair while his chin came to rest against her temple. He carefully moved them into the house and towards the living room, settling them down on the sofa. The hand on her back rubbed comforting circles into her skin, gently trying to calm her down enough to understand what was going on.

„Hush, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath in with me? Very good. And now slowly breathe out alongside me. Just like that. And again…. You’re doing good, Y/N. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.“

With every deep breath and every muttered reassurance, she calmed down a little more until her breathing was almost back to normal. He continued to hug her close to his body, not wanting to be the first one to let go when she so obviously needed the support. It took her a few minutes before she slowly moved away from him, a bashful, almost embarrassed expression on her face.

He felt a deep-seated need to make her feel better, so he unthinkingly handed her his handkerchief. Y/N took it with a small quirk of her lips, cleaning her face and blowing her nose.

„You know that no one under 50 uses those, right?“, it was a very obvious attempt at lightening up the mood, but he gladly played along.

„People have found more creative ways to call me old, you know?“

She chuckled weakly, carefully placing the handkerchief on the coffee table before turning towards him again.

„I am sorry for just appearing here without calling first. It was just- I-“, she nervously picked at her clothes.

„I don’t mind, Y/N. You’re welcome here at any time. However you found out where I live…“

„I might have tried at the BAU first where your colleague helped me out. The Italian one. Agent Rossi, I think? He was really nice, gave me some of his Cannoli“, she smiles sheepishly.

„Definitely Agent Rossi“, he confirmed with a smile. „Though he usually doesn’t share his baked goods with anyone. He’s very protective over them.“

He mustered her for a moment before he sat up and leaned towards her.

„I am glad to see you. And as I said, you are welcome here any time. I won’t lie and say that I expected it, though. I expected you to call at some point. What happened?“

„The perceptivenesse comes with the job at the BAU, huh?“, she tried to deflect his question.

„I’d rather think that most people would come to the same conclusion if someone turns up at their doorstep crying“, he gently said, reaching our to squeeze her hand.

Y/N sighed softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

„I guess I owe you an explanation, huh?“

„You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. But I think you might feel better if you tell me what’s been going on.“

„Alright. I talked to Mom about everything, and at first, she stayed with the story she’s always told me. You know, that one day you just left us and that was it. But I thought about what you said to me, and she never elaborated on anything, and that felt a little weird. So, I sat her down and told her I wanted to know the truth. And-“, she stopped herself to take a deep breath, Hotch gently squeezing her hand in reassurance. „She finally told me that what you’d said was true. That you’d split, and she just never told you and I- I was just so angry at her for taking that experience away from me. For lying to me every time I’d asked, especially when I was still little and having a dad was all I’ve ever wanted. And she just shrugged like it was no big deal. And she didn’t even have a reason because it’s not like you treated her terribly or you separated on bad terms. And I couldn’t look at her anymore, and I may have Googled the BAU and just left, and then your colleague found me, and now I’m here.“

The last part of her explanation was said without her taking a single breath, and he could watch how her eyes glazed over with tears again and her lips pressed together in an effort to hold her emotions back. Hotch could only imagine how she felt with the entire situation. God knew he had been overwhelmed by it himself, and he was the adult who should know how to deal with it. But seeing her sitting there, trying to hide her emotions, broke him a little. So he did the only thing he could think of and pulled her back into his arms.

He could understand what she meant, just the tiniest bit. In never telling him that he had a daughter, Chloe had taken the experience of seeing his child grow up from him. He couldn’t watch her become the person she was today, couldn’t help her on the way, or give her little nudges in the right direction. He never held his little girl after a nightmare or celebrated a win at Little League with her, nor had he been able to teach her how to ride a bike or drive a car or make pancakes the way his grandmother had made them. Y/N, however, had been missing a part of her family history. A part of her understanding of where she was coming from. And from what she’d said, she apparently didn’t have anyone else filling in as a father figure in her life.

„It’s going to be alright, Y/N. I know that we both can’t get back the years that we’ve missed. But we can use all the time that we have left to get to know each other and build a relationship“, he gently carded his hand through her hair. „I’m 100% in as long as you want me in your life. And you are more than welcome to stay here with me for a while if you don’t want to face your Mom for a while. But I should call her and tell her you're safe so she doesn’t worry and knows where you are. And, as much as you might dread it right now, at one point, we should all sit down together and talk through the situation at hand.“

And that’s what he did. As soon as she’d felt a bit better, he’d called Chloe and let her know that Y/N was with him. She’d put up no resistance when he’d told her that she’d be staying with him for a few days to work through everything and that they should meet up to talk everything through.

He and Y/N spent the next few days getting to know each other. He leaned that she was planning on studying psychology and wanted to become a therapist, that she loved reading love poems but absolutely hated romance novels, loved strawberries but was allergic to them, that all her plants died all the time and that she loved crows. Hotch shared his grandmother’s pancake receipt with her, told her about his time before the BAU and why he decided to change jobs, talked a little about his team and what they did, shared his love for 80's music with her as well as his love for really badly written crime novels, where one knew from the beginning who the perpetrator was, and his very well hidden sweet tooth.

As days turned into weeks and months, the team welcomed the young girl with open arms as well. Even though she moved back to her mom’s house after they’d all talked, because she wanted to finish school there, she spent a lot of her weekends and free time either at Hotch’s or the BAU. With her interest in psychology, their work was fascinating to her. She quickly formed a unique bond with the team as well. Rossi, the fun uncle, who shared his food with her but no one else (though Y/N regularly sneaked Hotch some of Rossi’s baked goods after she learned of his fondness for sweet things). Emily turned into a bad-ass big sister who taught her some neat self-defense tricks and was eternally greatfull for Y/N’s help when it came to technology. Garcia and JJ, who regularly took her out for film nights or/and shopping sprees. Derek turned into a protective big brother, who had helped her and Hotch to modify her room at Hotch’s into her dream room with his skills as a carpenter. Spencer and her were often seen deep in discussion about some intellectual or psychological matter or bickering over a TV show. The prank war between them, that had started because they both had a different opinion on who the best Doctor was, was still regularly talked about by everyone in the BAU.

They all formed a special bond, one built on shared experiences, laughter, and understanding. Hotch and Y/N made every effort to make up for the lost years with shared love, support, and guidance.

The BAU became a second family to Y/N, offering a support system she had never known (and was more than practical when it came to her chosen career path). Within them, she found solace and strength. Hotch and Y/N both revelled in the small moments they shared, cherishing their newfound father-daughter relationship and having found a place in each other’s lives.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #cm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #bau x reader #bau team x reader

[randomxreaders]

The transfer

Bau Team x Fem Reader,

Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

not my gif☺️

A/n: Okay guys so i’ve decided to make this a lil Emily Prentiss reader ofc the rest of the team will still be involved throughout but i love em sooo! anyway hope yall like this lmk if you want longer or shorter type chapters thank you thank you hope you enjoy!!

Part 2: family dinner

Y/n left the filled out files on Barnes desk causing her to look up “Oh it’s you, here take these to look over it’s your new team. Congratulations agent.” Y/n silently took the files and walked back to the bullpen. As she walked into the room her now former team was waiting for her return. “Do you really have to leave?” Penelope asked tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s not my choice penny” Y/n pulls her in for a hug. “Can we all have one last family dinner together?” JJ asks. “Let’s let Y/n pack up her stuff and we can all meet up at the end of the day maybe?” Derek suggests. “That sounds perfect guys” Y/n says. Y/n packs up all of the things on and in her desk, slowly being erased from the BAU.

Once Y/n arrived at home she started packing up things there. The basics would be provided she still wanted her pictures, clothes and memories and had to break her original lease.

5 Hours later

The BAU team is having their last family dinner at Rossi’s house eating his classic italian three course meal. The night is bittersweet and filled with slight nostalgia. “You guys know this isn’t goodbye right, i’ll always be around and who knows maybe we’ll run into each other?” Y/n states “We will it just won’t be the same.” Spencer said. After the nice dinner the younger members of the team decided to go out for drinks, Hotch opted out as he needed to get home to Jack and Rossi had plans the next morning so they said their goodbyes after dinner.

Derek, Emily, JJ, Spencer, Penelope and Y/n went to the bar they all frequented often especially when they all needed a break.

The team sat at their usual table in those usual spots. Penny next to the wall and Derek, who is next to spencer and Y/n Emily and JJ across the booth. “You guys better come and visit me in California.” Y/n stated matter of factly. “Don’t worry Y/n/n we definitely will” Emily said giving you a side hug a little longer than usual and then taking her hand down to hold yours. Truth be told you and Emily had always been pretty close so this wasn’t out of the norm for you guys. But you had some unconfirmed feelings towards the stunning brunette especially because you didn’t know if they were reciprocated. The team sat around and drinking and reminisced on all the fond memories together and before they knew it, it was 1:00 am. “Shit guys i gotta go i have to be on the plane at 9 tomorrow” The team said their goodbyes promising to meet at the airport the next morning.

#bau x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #jj x reader #penelope garcia #lgbtq #fem reader #spencer x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #david rossi #bau team

[anika-ann]

Cookies and Spark(le)s

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: In which you thank the Captain for saving your life on your first mission together by baking cookies, a revelation or two is made and most importantly, you bring a smile to his face – and vice versa.

And so your nickname, Sparkles, is born.

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, Tony being Tony (affectionate), ... I think that’s it? 

A/N: Standalone or a one-shot set so-so TWO YEARS before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

“Let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.” - Mother Teresa

- 

There was a small smile playing in the corner of Steve’s lips, a quiet but intense feeling of job well-done humming in his chest.

After almost four hours in a gym, a company of ten – and then another ten – agents of various ranks, him and Rollins leading the training and overseeing agents’ drills, Steve was beyond content. There was a reason why they encouraged all agents to sign up for whichever training session available and it didn’t only go down to unregular schedules – it served as a valuable learning experience. The senior agents teaching newbies; the newbies humbling the experienced ones who would have thought they had seen it all, but were proven wrong by a fresh graduate knocking them down; mock opponents of all sizes and strength and tactics, testing each other, some days more than others. And today had felt good, a testimony to the advantages of mixed classes.

Had Steve been a little more spiteful, he’d spend a little more time revelling in the expression on Vale’s face – a senior agent who was sporting attitude issues at times – when she ended up on her back. And as virtuous as people believed Steve to be, he actually did enjoy seeing her fall from her high horse; but the shy smile and the damn helping hand her opponent offered her, right after she had got her on her back, quickly made for a different emotion. Warmer and brining just as much satisfaction.

He wanted to smile at you at your gesture, catching the pleased spark in your eye, but you quickly averted his gaze and returned to your drills. Steve didn’t press; while you were kind and friendly, you also took training – and self-growth, apparently – very seriously. And he had a feeling you were a little unsure about how to act in front of him ever since the last mission.

The fact was that the gentle hum in his heart you had started by kicking Vale’s ass and then helping her up remained until the end of the session, only strengthened by other great moments you and other agents made for.

It truly had been a good afternoon and Steve knew he would sleep well tonight, knowing their system worked – and that they were good people working under the Avengers’ Initiative.

He was just slipping into the sleeves on his hoodie, catching a glimpse of Rollins patting Agent Finnegan on his back as they were leaving, when he heard your voice, instantly attracting his attention despite the slightly awkward note to it.  

“Captain Rogers? Can I have a second?”

A brief smile passing over your lips made the corners of his own rise higher on instinct. Your hair was messy, some sticking to your forehead, some flying around as you had had to just pull a hoodie over your head, your stance speaking of both determination and hesitance.

“Sure,” he said, gaze involuntary flickering to the Tupperware box in your hands. “How can I help you, Agent Jones?”

A flicker of surprise caught on your face as if you hadn’t thought he’d remembered your name – a pleasant surprise, Steve hoped. He hardly ever forgot names and faces, a blessing and a curse of his eidetic memory; but he had a feeling that even without his gift, he wouldn’t forget yours. You stood out subtly, but firmly, at least to Steve; and it had little to do with the fact he had covered you and probably saved your life on your first mission together just a few days ago.

“I, uhm… I know you probably get this all the time, because… well, because you save someone’s life all the time, but. I wanted to thank you,” you explained, a mixture of emotions difficult to decipher sinking into your voice, embarrassment at the forefront as if you were already questioning your decisions.

And you should – there was no reason to thank him further. You expressed your gratitude before, thanking him with shock right at the site of the shooting and then again on the plane when he made rounds, checking on all the agents. You owed him nothing.

But he had to admit you were being rather… sweet, looking up at him like that, sure and unsure at the same time, clearly hesitant about how to handle the situation and desperately trying to get a read on his reaction.

So, Steve took a deep breath, gaze flickering all over your face and minding to sound sincere – as he was – when he spoke again.

“You already have,” he pointed out gently.

“I know. But. It’s my life and just saying thank you doesn’t really seem like enough for something of that magnitude so. Here. A bit more of a thank you,” you said, standing your ground as you held out the box. Your smile grew, a little playful note in your voice as you shrugged. “You strike me like more of an apple pie kind of a man, but I don’t think anyone ever gets offended with cookies.”

Busted. You clearly weren’t a former FBI profiler for nothing. His hands twitched as he almost reached for the box, slightly embarrassed himself now.

“That’s really not necessary, Agent Jones.”

“I promise they’re not poisoned,” you hummed with an attempt at humour, instantly having Steve’s eyebrow rise up, along with a corner of his lips.

“That… didn’t even cross my mind until you mentioned it.”

“…oh.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no real sound coming out.

One silly sentence and it was obvious you pulled back, growing more embarrassed by the second; Steve felt a little guilty for teasing you. You seemed like a confident enough kind of woman, especially when a situation called for it, but he mustn’t forget you barely had just finished your first mission under him (his command, under his command), one where he had to – and wanted to – tackle you down so you wouldn’t catch a bullet for your trouble. Not to mention he was not only your superior, but also a potentially imposing figure known from overexaggerated urban legends which he didn’t try to but fed into anyway. Approaching him would have been nerve-wrecking for anyone, let alone in your circumstance.

But here you were, doing your best to stand with your head held high, offering him cookies, to highlight your gratitude for something Steve believed was his duty. And to show you regretted getting yourself into a situation where he had to intervene, a situation which could make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your direct supervisor – Steve himself.

So yes, he felt a little guilty for the gentle jab when all he had intended to do was to reassure you it was all in day’s work – and maybe to make you smile a little wider. Because from the little he had seen of you and he had read up on you – he liked to know his team, he liked to know what he could work with on his missions, sue him – you seemed to be quite a capable, dedicated and kind person. Not to mention rather beautiful too.

No matter how much time he had spent out of the ice in his new role, his interaction skills with beautiful women, even if those under his command, clearly needed a lot of polishing.

Putting you out of your misery, he slowly raised his hands as not to startle you and carefully took the box from your fingers, gently flipping the lid open for a slit. The sweet aroma of butter and chocolate tickled his nostrils, his quick metabolism letting itself known, his body whispering that he could definitely devour these after two training sessions, even if they weren’t that taxing on him.

You offered a weak smile which Steve reciprocated.

“If they are poisoned, you covered it well. They smell delicious. And look that way too,” he added for a good measure, hoping to erase the last remnants of awkwardness between the two of you.

He did not expect your reaction; nor he anticipated the effect it would have on him.

Upon his light tease and praise, your face lit up. Truly lit up. You might as well glow – and Steve felt his heart stutter, resisting the urge to squint against the gentle light, tempted all the same to keep his eyes wide open to appreciate the sight. It might be ridiculous, but he felt blessed to earn such smile; a perfect beautiful smile, irises sparkling with gratitude and humour, as if you suddenly appreciated him poking a bit of fun.

“Well, the recipe is from the times where no one truly cared about sugar and cholesterol,” you shrugged, smile subtler now, but no less blinding. “And the secret ingredient is gratitude.”

Steve couldn’t but chuckle, no matter how much as he wanted to disapprove of that sentiment.

“Hey. Like I said. Not necessary, but who am I to say no to this,” he mused as he closed the lid. “Thank you, Agent Jones.”

It was the title, Steve realized regretfully the moment the words left his mouth, that had the alluring sparkle in your eye dim and turn your smile from brilliant to polite; it was the reminder that despite the teasing, you were his subordinate and you were still basically strangers. Steve mourned the loss of your glow; and made himself a promise to bring it back soon as you rocked at the balls of your feet, embarrassment returning, even if considerably more subtle than when you had first approached him.

“Enjoy then. …I, uhm, I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, Captain Rogers. Have a good day,” you said, genuine warmth behind your words.

Yet, you kept your word and spun on your heels, heading out of the room.

And Steve couldn’t help it. He could tell it was back, that something weighting on your conscience, probably the worry about how you had introduced yourself to him as the agent who needed saving – and tried to, presumably lamely, soften the terrible impression with baking, no matter how excellent. The urge to have you know that was not at all what he as thinking of you was too acute to ignore, a tightness in his chest that needed to be released. Because you seemed a wonderful agent and a better person and he couldn’t let you leave thinking he considered you anything less.

It didn’t matter he barely knew you or you barely knew him; because you simply didn’t deserve to doubt yourself. Because there was more than one reason for why he didn’t really feel entirely comfortable accepting your gratitude; because it wasn’t fair.

“Did you get any cookies?” he called out, voice low despite the now empty training room.

You stopped in your tracks in an instant, turning to him with confusion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry?” you asked politely, frown turning into a brief smile when you realized what he meant – or thought so, apparently. “Oh, well, I sampled. I had to make sure I’d give you quality goods, after all.”

For a profiler, now you were being completely clueless. Steve shook his head, lips a thin line even as he tried to smile, slowly taking the three steps to make up for the distance you had walked. His gaze flicker over your face, still contorted in mild confusion, before he bored his eyes into yours, mindful to sound gentle despite the urgency humming in his ribcage.

“From Agent Thomas, I mean,” he clarified. The effect on you was immediate; your breath hitched, body going rigid with shock. Good. Then you’d hear what he was saying. “Perhaps some thank you for saving my life cookies too?”

Your lips parted in surprise, eyes widening. Your shock at the revelation that he had noticed the situation was almost adorable. He tried not to let it insult him – he could hardly blame anyone for not believing he’d pay attention to them on the mission.

The truth was, Steve probably would have been slightly annoyed had the situation been different. If, upon first time under his command in particular, he would have had to sweep in to save an agent because they were reckless, defying orders or showing off – but that wasn’t the reason you had missed the danger posed to you.

The only reason you missed the enemy shooter was because you were shooting another, right before Steve could. And you did it because Agent Hillary Thomas, on her very first mission of this sort, failed to notice she had left an opening. Because you had exchanged a few words with her on the jet, learning it was her first, and you probably had kept an eye on her ever since. Just like Steve had kept an eye on her and you.

The only reason he had to save you was because you got too busy protecting your fellow agent. It wasn’t your explicit order to have her six, but you had done it anyway, because that was what teammates did for each other. Steve could respect that. Hell, Steve appreciated that – and he was glad that people like you were on his team. This kind of people were his favourite and he would take a bullet for them at any day, so truly, tackling you was the least he could do and would do in the future should the need arise.

“No, Sir. Captain. I didn’t,” you said, a little quiet; clearly torn between standing behind your actions and knowing it had technically been a mistake to look out for someone else more than for yourself. A mistake which your Captain was now pointing out, you perhaps thought.

Imposing figure, Steve reminded himself with a mental sigh, a superior; you must have thought that you were being reprimanded further, which was not at all Steve’s intention. Realizing his shoulders had turned tense upon remembering the mission, he forced his body to relax and willed the corners of his lips to lift softly.

“At ease, Agent Jones. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know that the circumstance has been taken into account. It was a compliment,” he assured you.

Much to his satisfaction, you let him. You stuck your chin up, standing straighter as a brief pleased smile passed your lips.

“Thank you, Captain. I realize that the practice might be different here at the AI than at my last place of employment, but-“

“You were looking out for a colleague, as have I,” he interjected, earning a nod from you, along with a barely-there smile. “And I’m pretty sure having your friends’ and fellow agents’ six is a universal rule. So… I’m glad I had you on the team for the mission. …And I would have been even without the cookies,” he added with a small smirk.

But oh, he should not have sweetened the compliment with a joke if he wasn’t ready to face the consequences. You chuckled, surprised at the teasing – your smile grew large and genuine, eyes shining again, the playful spark making its return. Steve felt his heart stumble in his chest once more, falling straight into the trap of your charm.

He was in trouble. He had been intrigued by you, half-way in trouble already, ankles deep at least, but now you not only smiled – at him, with him – but you smiled at something he said and he could not deny that at heart, he was a simple man with appreciation with the most incredible simple things; like how your smile lit up the training room like the brightest star. And now he was knees deep. No, waist deep, if not more.

If there was one person who should be smirking, it should be you. But you weren’t, because you probably had no idea that the gorgeous smile of yours just made breathing seem like a task worth only of titans among whom Steve did not belong, not with his chest feeling so full – full of delight and pride. He did that. And he wanted to do it again.

He was in so much trouble.

“Well, you got them this time, so enjoy them. I’ll try my best so there’s no reason for them next time,” you declared, unwittingly offering Steve a helping hand by reminding him of the reality of him being your boss – and therefore of inappropriateness of where the train of his thoughts was heading.

“As great as I think these are and as glad as I am you are looking out for our teammates, I like that plan,” he said with a grin, clutching the box only in his left hand in order to outstretch the other, an offer to shake it. You tilted your head to side slightly, but set his hand into his with a soft smile. Trouble. Beautiful, beautiful trouble. “Looking forward to working with you again, Agent Jones.”

You squeezed his hand, an honest grip – firm but gentle, not too strong to show off or try to assert dominance, nor too weak for you were not. Your voice carried the same sentiment as you parted.

“Same, Captain Rogers. Have a good day.”

Perhaps it would sound absurd if said out loud, but the box of homemade cookies only solidified Steve’s conviction that he had made the right choice to decide to move out of the Tower. His first apartment given to him by SHILED after he came out of the ice never felt like home for multiple reasons and so when Tony had been kind enough to offer to all the Avengers a place to stay, no matter how often, Steve had been grateful – if for nothing more than for the convenience of not having to commute. But as time passed and he felt the ground under his feet grow more and more solid, slowly coming to terms to the fact that this century had to be his home now, Steve was finding it hard to balance work and life outside of work with the majority of his life outside of work still happening at the place of employment. At a place where his colleagues – even as he could call a few of them his friends – could stride in literally whenever they pleased. He found himself longing for a true home again.

And yes; something as simple as sweet taste of chocolate chip with peanut butter edge played straight into his yearning for domesticity, painting an image of a woman to hug as she stands by the stove, him sneakily stealing one of the still-cooling cookies he had helped to prepare from a plate, earning a playful smack over the back of his hand and a chuckle. The woman carried your face at the moment, inevitably associated with these particular cookies; Steve had to scold himself for thinking about one of the agents under his command this way.

Then again, the way your eyes sparkled, delighted and a little playful stirred something deep within him, automatically coaxing his lips into a smile even two hours later.

That smile only grew as he spied an unread e-mail at the screen of his computer. From Tony Stark himself, sent this morning, the subject hinting the location of his possible future home. Steve had requested an apartment in one of the Avengers Initiative buildings, which were offered for rent to all agents under the AI for more than a reasonable price. Conveniently located, far enough from the Tower, but not too far; carrying a much better potential to be turned into a home.

Opening the e-mail, Steve couldn’t but chuckle at Tony’s – at least partly pretended – pretentiousness oozing from the first two sentences.  

Hey big guy, you sure you wanna live with the common folks? One apartment’s freshly empty, but can you actually handle living next to a newbie-ish girl? Had J run a like a triple background check on her, she should be okay. I mean. Besides being former FBI, bleh. Check for yourself. She could be good neighbour I guess, you could always ask her to lend you some sugar. Or pour some all over you, cause she has good looks. Lemme know if this’ okay. Peace out.

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s inability to not add a dirty joke – but his heart skipped a funny beat at the mention of the FBI, allowing himself a brief hope of seeing you more often. As if you were the only ever newbie coming from that particular agency. However, that simple skip turned into a thunder in his chest when he noticed the file attached with your name indeed.

He was being ridiculous, he was aware. But he found himself excited at the prospect. The first win was that from what he understood you were more intimidated by your circumstance than starstruck when you had interacted with him, so he wouldn’t have to deal with some hero worship that could quickly get awkward and annoying, despite what some people thought. And the second win, well… Even if nothing more than a smile and hellos should be exchanged a few times a week, a friendly face who might light up at least a bit upon talking to him sounded all sorts of pleasant; let alone a kind one.

Maybe he would ask for a cup of coffee after a few days, in a very neighbourly fashion of course, and get to know you in person rather than from the extensive background check he might have received but refused to read because Tony was probably able to dig out things like the name of your first pet and that was just wrong. He’d rather learn these things from you, if you’d be willing. You certainly didn’t seem uninterested in talking to him when giving him a completely unnecessary thank you, so perhaps you’d say yes – to the coffee, at least.

And perhaps he was getting quite ahead of himself. He shook his head.

Briefly checking the address, knowing the quality of the living space would not be an issue, Steve caught himself smiling as he wrote Tony back.

Looks perfect. I’ll take it. Thank you, Tony. S

He groaned when he realized his mistake, quickly sending another e-mail, even as he himself hated when people sent out e-mails as short as a text message in quick succession.

When I said ‘looks perfect’ I meant the apartment. Just to be clear. S

Naturally, with a nice neighbour like yourself, you were a part of that perfection and maybe he did mean you on your own as well, but he would never confess to that, let alone to Tony. Had he said it to anyone else, they would probably look at him funny, slyly even, but Tony… he’d make a huge deal out of it and would probably meddle.

Sadly, this was Tony who he was dealing with. The man could leave important e-mails concerning battle strategy or economic matters untouched for two weeks – but now, he replied instantly. Naturally. Steve could practically hear his friend saying the words. He groaned again.

‘Tis all yours, Cap. And I’m sure you did. Enjoy your cookies, btw, could have shared, you know.

The cookies, not her. Suuuuugar-

Steve felt his face being set aflame; but he rolled his eyes, shutting the tag closed with a grin on his face and warm hum in his chest. Tony’s teasing couldn’t taint the fact Steve was about to move into an apartment with a fresh opportunity to build a home. You living next door – even if it meant a lot of teasing from Tony (and Natasha, and Clint if he caught on) in the future – was just a very pleasant bonus.

He was a simple kind of man – an apple pie kind of a guy as you had guessed, in all senses of the words. Maybe he could try to bake a pie once he moved in and share with you; return your Tupperware with a piece of it in it, as a sort-of a reversed ‘welcome in the building, neighbour’ gesture.

Yeah, he should do that. He had a feeling that it just might make you smile; maybe just enough for him to see a sparkle light up your eyes again. He'd like that. Very, very much.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Thank you for reading my short trip from writing hiatus 😇🥰 Feedback always appreciated 💕

I have several things for TWO possible sequels to Love on the Brain written down, but I don’t have the time or mental energy to really write, let alone detail up a mystery right now. So, I thought you might like a fluffy prequel at least 😊 Thank you for your support 💕

P.S. I have a headcanon now that Tony knew the post boxes in the wall were a mess and he was perfectly happy with the knowledge Steve and Sparkles had to interact whenever something landed in the wrong box. He was probably deliberately stalling having it fixed.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #former bau agent reader #agent reader #love on the brain #cookies and sparks #anika ann

[talatomaz]

the storm | jj x fem!reader

a/n: this takes place during ‘the storm’ and doesn’t feature as much JJ x d!r as i wanted but oh well. if y’all want more JJ x daughter!reader fics, please send me requests/ideas

warnings: usual canon violence.

word count: 2.8k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

R is JJ’s 22 year old adopted daughter and works with the BAU

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

It had started out like any normal day.

You and your Mum were on your way to work but were first travelling to your Unit Chief’s apartment so the three of you could carpool to work after dropping Henry and Jack, Hotch’s son, at school.

It was something you had done multiple times before. Both time effective and eco friendly; not to mention convenient.

But today was the day it had all gone awry.

Not long after you, your adopted brother and mother had arrived at your boss’ home, had a SWAT team abruptly burst through the door, training several guns at Aaron.

Instinct had you reaching for your registered firearm, aiming it at the intruders. JJ’s motherly instinct, however, had her clinging the young boys to her protectively, in an attempt to shield them from the danger.

“Drop the gun.”

A SWAT member ordered as you continued to raise the weapon.

“We’re federal agents. He’s the Unit Chief for the Behavioural Analyst Unit.”

You replied back, still refusing to lower the gun.

“It’s okay.”

You turned to your boss with a look of concern and confusion but when he gave you a nod of approval, you holstered your weapon and were forced to simply watch as SWAT zip tied the former’s wrists behind his back and escort him out of his home.

Moving backwards, you flanked Jack’s other side, as the other was currently being cradled by your Mum, and held the young boy whispering words of comfort to try and still his understandable tears of fear and terror. Looking over your shoulder, you made eye contact with JJ and saw the same look of helplessness displayed in her eyes.

What the hell was going on?

            ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

After texting with your father, he and your younger baby brother had now joined you, JJ, Henry and Jack in your Government provided SUV as the six of you made your way to the BAU.

As you drove, you listened as your Mum tried to covertly explain the morning’s earlier events without using language that would scare the young boys currently in the car with you.

Forcing a smile on your face, you turned to look back at the kids and inserted a lightheartedness into your voice, “Come on boys, we’re here.”

Exiting the car, you all walked into the BAU. JJ was holding Michael in her arms, you held Henry’s hand and Will, your adopted father, had a comforting but protective hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Walking into the roundtable room where you and your team usually discussed cases, you were brought face to face with Garcia, Tara, Reid and Rossi.

When everyone had said their ‘hello’s’ and Will went to Hotch’s office with the boys, the forceful smile that had been previously plastered on your’s and JJ’s faces were immediately replaced with a grim frown.

“It’s bad.” Your mother stated without being prompted.

“How much did they see?”

“All of it.” You answered Tara before JJ continued.

“Which is why we figured this was the safest place to bring them.”

The sound of a text message notification interrupted you all as you looked at Rossi hopeful. Glancing back up from his phone, he spoke, “Just got word. He’s downtown. I’ll go and see what I can find out.”

“And in the meantime, I’ll try to locate the 911 call that caused SWAT to break into Hotch’s home.” Garcia countered as she began typing on her laptop.

            ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

After finding out that Aaron was being held by the DoJ, you’d all successfully deduced that Antonia’s son was responsible for the spoofing of the 911 call.

Whilst the rest of the team went to go arrest and question the latter, you opted to stay at the BAU to check up on the boys and to give your father a well needed break.

As you held a sleeping Michael in your arms, you sat opposite Jack who was sitting in his father’s chair behind his desk.

In the 30 minutes you’d been sitting there, the young boy hadn’t spoken a word. And you hadn’t either, not wanting to force him to speak unless it was of his own accord.

“Is Uncle Hotch okay?”

The quiet that had previously filled the room was disturbed by the soft voice that belonged to Henry, your other brother who had unfortunately witnessed the unnerving arrest too.

“Yeah, sweetie. He’s just answering some questions that the police have him. Don’t worry, it’ll all be cleared up soon and he’ll be back in no time.”

You’d chosen your words carefully having noted Jack’s eyes on you as you lovingly cupped Henry’s cheek.

“You doing okay, Henry?” You asked softly, still conscious of the sleeping baby in your arms.

The young boy nodded meekly; he’d seemed pretty much unfazed by the events when he’d spoken to Spencer but a closer look showed signs of distress on his face.

“I guess. It was just kind of scary. I’m glad you and Mommy were there.”

“I know, honey. Me too. But you’re safe. Both of you.” You added, chancing a glance at Hotch’s son who was still staring at you.

The alert and vibration of your phone lightly jolted you so you removed your hand from Henry’s cheek and pulled out your phone, scanning the text that had been an update from your Mum. They’d gotten Antonia’s son in custody and Spencer was speaking with him in the hopes of finding out who he was working with.

Your focus turned to the office door which had just been opened by Will. With just a kind look in his eyes and a soft smile, he gently took Michael from your arms and led he and Henry out the office under the guise of ‘grabbing something to eat’ leaving you alone with Jack.

With all your attention now refocused on Jack, you waited patiently for him to speak.

“He’s really okay?”

You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes, he is. Your dad can handle himself, Jack. He’s okay.”

“I thought they were gonna shoot him. That I would never see him again. Like Mom.”

His words tugged at your heart; you could feel it breaking with each word he spoke. He’d suffered so much pain and loss in his life and had been fortunate enough to be too young to fathom it but now, the sight of seeing his father on his knees with several guns aimed at his head would certainly plague his dreams.

“Oh, honey.”

Seeing the tears well up in his eyes, you got up from your chair and gathered the former into your arms, letting him cry out all his emotions safely. You once again soothed him with your words as you ran your hand up and down his back in a comforting manner.

“Shhh, you’re safe. It’s okay.“

You repeated until his sobs had reduced into teary sniffles. Making no effort or attempt to move, you allowed him to seek comfort in your arms for as long as he needed.

At least that was the plan until you’d been interrupted once again by the ping of your phone.

Carefully manoeuvring yourself, you reached into your pocket and again looked at a text from your Mum. They’d figured out Asher’s partner was a jailed con who was planning a prison break tonight.

“Is that him?” Jack asked, his voice wet with tears.

“No, sweetie. It’s about the men who were behind this. My Mum and the rest of the team are going after them.”

“You have to go too.”

“Jack-”

“Please. Help bring him home.”

Sighing at the boy’s pleas, you knew your presence would be needed by the team. Especially if the prison break was bonafide.

“I will. I’ll send Henry back in here with some food and more comics, okay?” You joked, holding Jack’s face similarly to how you’d held Henry’s earlier.

            ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“The boys okay?”

You excused yourself from the police you were talking to and walked over to JJ and the rest of your team. Since you had been closest to the prison, you’d arrived there first and had already been briefed.

“Yeah. When I left, they were reading some comics.” You answered JJ whose face visibly relaxed with that information before tensing again when you continued.

“So far, the prisoners have taken control of 3 blocks and multiple fires have been set so the Warden and his guys are spread pretty thin.”

“We just got a distress call that some of the prisoners got to the gun safe.” Warden Nabb explained, joining you and your team.

“First priority is to secure the control room.” The SWAT leader announced.

Walking through the prison, you and your team remained vigilant with your guns drawn, ready to fire if necessary at any intruder you encountered.

Reaching another block of empty cells, you paused when you heard some scratching noises.

“You hear that?” You whispered to your Mum.

“Shh! Everybody quiet.” JJ ordered as the two of you followed the sound to another cell. Holding a flashlight, you both discovered a makeshift tunnel that Rawdon had presumably escaped in.

After notifying Rossi about said tunnel, your Mum, Spencer and a SWAT member decided to sweep another cell block so you and Tara decided to join the other SWAT members in their pursuit of the control room.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.” You said to JJ before leaving with Tara.

            ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Reaching A block, you nodded in agreement when you and Tara were ordered to remain back whilst SWAT cleared the control room.

You impatiently looked back and forth as the jeers from the imprisoned convicts continued to unnerve you.

“I don’t like this, Tara.” You admitted when the SWAT leader had remained radio silent for the past 2 minutes.

“Me either. Captain, do you copy?” Tara spoke into the comms on her vest before being called by one of the prisoners.

You watched cautiously as she conversed with a serial killer she’d previously interviewed for her research.

“This is the serial killer wing.”

Yeah, you were definitely liking this less and less.

The sound of the buzzer jolted you, only giving you a second of warning to raise your gun once more as all the doors, that had previously held back the vast amount of serial killers, now opened.

Walking backwards, you reached Tara and remained steadfast in your position as the aforementioned murderers began stalking towards the two of you.

“You can’t take us all.”

The chilling statement caused a shiver to run down your spine. Still holding your gun in one hand, you spoke into your comms with the other.

As JJ, Spencer and a SWAT member continued canvassing the cell block, they stilled when they heard your thinly veiled panicked shout crackle through the comms they wore.

“JJ, Reid, backup now.”

“We’re coming.” JJ replied with ferocity as she swiftly turned and began making her way to you.

Though she tried her hardest not to, she felt herself begin to panic at your troubled shout, in fear of what you were currently facing. She’d already had one child of hers standing in the face of danger - and whilst she knew it was a part of your shared job - she couldn’t bear the idea of you having a similar fate.

“We’re coming.”

As soon as those words came through, one of the convicts charged at you and you were forced to fire your gun at his leg. He fell to the ground, clutching his thigh as blood stained his hand.

You watched and listened as Tara tried to talk Ennis, the serial killer she’d previously interviewed, down. But when you sensed movement, you glanced behind the convict and almost breathed a sigh of relief. Hotch and several more armed SWAT members entered the room.

Then all hell broke loose.

Several shots rang out as the convicts charged at you all in an attempt to escape. When you’d managed to gain control of the situation and started to subdue and restrain the released prisoners, the sound of faint gunshots caught the attention of you, Tara and Hotch.

“Mum.” You exhaled, more so to yourself than your team, before running towards the gunfire, Tara and Hotch following closely behind.

Reaching JJ and Spencer, you stumbled upon SWAT members, whom you assumed were prisoners dressed up as them, shooting at your team. Your arrival warranted their attention as shots began to fire your way.

Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough and one of them had hit you square in the chest. Luckily, the brunt of it had been absorbed by the vest but it still toppled you over as you struggled to breathe. It was like being punched ten times over; the sheer force knocking the wind out of your lungs.

Blinking rapidly to try and control the pain, you felt someone’s hands grabbing at the vest that covered your chest. Those same hands gently pushed away your own which had been trying to unstrap the vest in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Can you hear me? Are you okay? God.”

The panicked shouts of your name, which you now recognised as coming from your Mum, brought you back to reality.

“Fuck, that hurts.”

You winced as the protective vest was pulled off you. Stilling the hands that then began to roam over your body, presumably checking for other injuries, you moved to sit up.

Looking up into the tear-filled blue eyes that belonged to your mother, you spoke,

“I’m okay, Mum. I’m okay.”

The seasoned profiler exhaled a shaky breath of relief as she hugged you closely to her. Unable to stop it in time, a grimace followed by a hiss of pain slipped past your lips.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You replied before hugging your Mum back.

She then helped you to your feet when you were both approached by Hotch who placed a warm hand on your shoulder. He gave you a quick once over, “You good?” You nodded in response and he then explained that they’d figured out where the bomb was being held.

With gritted teeth, you pulled the vest back over you and securely strapped it, ignoring the shoots of pain travelling through you.

“Let’s get these bastards.”

            ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

After engaging in a shootout with Rawdon’s gang and later getting checked out by a medic - at your behest but the order of your Mum - you were now laying in your bedroom as your parents put your younger brothers to bed. You were originally planning on staying at your apartment like you did practically every other day but, after the tiring events of the day, including your injury, JJ was adamant in her request for all her children sleeping under one roof.

Hearing a faint knock at your door, you invited JJ into your room. She immediately walked over and got into bed next to you.

“They asleep?”

“Yeah, out like a light.” JJ answered, as she pulled you into her arms. Welcoming the comfort, you buried your head into her neck, allowing her usual scent of lavender to fill your senses.

“Henry told me earlier that he was scared so I’m glad he’s sleeping okay. I hope Jack’s doing alright.”

Your mother ran her hand through your hair as she placed a chaste kiss atop your head, “Me too, baby. Me too.”

“You had me worried earlier. What with the gunshot and being trapped in a cell block full of convicted serial killers.”

A derived snort left you before you could stop it.

“Just a part of the job, it seems. It should really be on the job description.”

“You ever wonder if it’s all too dangerous?”

You pulled back from your Mum’s arms to look up at her, “you having second thoughts with my being on the team?”

“No, no, sweetie. I just mean, with everything that we have to face, is it even worth it? Especially when the violence and danger continues to affect us outside of work.”

“I have to believe that it’s all worth it. That what we’re doing makes a difference. We’re helping put away murderers. People who are hurting innocent victims. People who were in the same position I was. We’re helping make the world a safer place.” You explained, unable to keep your voice level as you brought up your past.

“You’re right, baby. Sometimes I just wonder. You, Will and the boys always come first so when I saw you get injured because of this job, it just made me question things.”

JJ explained as she hugged you close.

“I get it, Mum. But I’m not going anywhere. And without us, these unsubs won’t either.”

As JJ continued talking, you found yourself getting lost in her voice before drifting off to sleep in her motherly embrace. Kissing your forehead, JJ whispered to you.

“Sleep well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #jj x reader #emily prentiss x reader #derek morgan x reader #spencer reid x reader #tara lewis #tara lewis x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #david rossi x reader #penelope garcia x reader #jemily #aj cook #cm #cm x reader #c: jennifer jareau #c: the storm #c: jj x d!r #s: mine

[neuroprincess]

Do you write for Elle?

If so, maybe like the reader is married to Elle and on the team after Elle leaves, when they met is up to you, and nobody really knows or cares that the reader is married to Elle until the reader gets injured on a case and Elle has to say something along the lines of “that’s my wife, let me see my wife!” in a fit of anger

Hi, darling! Yes, I do! Here it is, sorry for the delay, I've been in a big writer's block. I hope the one shot meets your expectations, good reading ^^

Hope - Elle Greenaway/Female Reader

Elle Greenaway/Female Reader

Classification: Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Swearing, violence and torture

Word count: +3700

Unrevised

When you met her Elle was still working with the BAU, a lively rookie agent with a promising career with the legendary bureau, you were also new to another FBI bureau. After many smiles exchanged in the elevator and trivial conversations in the parking lot she finally asked you out on a date, it was a nice dinner in an Italian restaurant, Elle smiled, flirted and made a few jokes, but you realized that no matter how hard she tried to hide it, something was wrong. The weight of the work seemed to fall on her back, tormenting and making her emotionally exhausted after so many difficult cases to assimilate, she was overwhelmed with pain, frustration and a sense of injustice. Two days later another case comes up, of a serial rapist, and then the news of William Lee's death at the hands of the agent spread like wildfire, reaching you before the team returns to city. She didn't contact you for days and was about to disappear for good, when, in an act of courage and desperation, you stopped and kissed her, declaring your love, saying that you understand and begging her to stay. After that you started dating officially, eight months later you moved into an apartment together in Virginia, where she was able to stabilize herself in a position similar to the one she had in Seattle, after two years of relationship she asked you to marry her, turning you into Y/N Greenaway at the end of the same year, around Christmas. And that's when the first couple ordeal emerged, the BAU wanted you with them, regardless of your relationship with the former agent. The director was impressed by the articles and advanced studies on psychology attached to your name, in addition to the remarkable contributions in cases. Contrary to what you imagined, she was the person who most encouraged you to accept the job offer, proud of your intelligence and efforts that got you a guaranteed spot in the elite FBI, honorably invited just as she once was. Elle always believed in you and all the potential as an agent, knowing how strong and professional can be to face what awaits you.

- Okay, I'll take care of myself, baby. Oh, and don't forget to water the plants. - you whisper into the phone waiting for the rest of the team to get on the jet to take off - Love you, El.

- Text me as soon as you can. Love you more, sweetie. - She hung up the phone and you let out a tired sigh, the last case was exhausting, you barely had time to unpack when Hotchner called, the team was sent to Minnesota to track down a serial killer, he has been acting out of control for weeks, killing young women in the state capital.

- Even tired, always the first. - JJ comments, passing by your seat and sitting down in front of you, followed by Emily - Did you at least get some sleep?

- No, I was waiting for my wife to get home from work so we could enjoy the day together, in the end I didn't even see her. - you comment without much thought, which causes an almost awkward silence.

Creating a relationship with your co-workers was very difficult, practically nonexistent at first, because as soon as the admission was made official they immediately knew about your spouse, she had advised you to omit this part of the file with a special request, but you made sure to continue with the married last name and a transparent life, taking the principle that relationships are not built that way. Hotchner didn't trust you, expecting that you would have a bad moment and act irrationally, which didn't happen during your one year on the team. You passed the main test. The rest just decided to ignore the name of your emergency contact and try to act as if you had no relationship, trying to separate Elle's personality from yours, not having much difficulty when you are agents of different styles and specialties. It helped that you were an unusual couple, hard to imagine, easy to ignore bonding. In short, they don't mind that you are married to Elle and carry the last name Greenaway as long as your personal life doesn't affect your professional life, which means going unaccompanied to events and bars with the work staff, rarely mentioning her name, especially around the Chief. Morgan and Reid are the least awkward around it, having been the closest to her previously. It's as if you live a double life with both sides knowing of each other's existence and feigning ignorance.

- Let's take off soon, there is a new lead. - Hotch announces as he walks past you to his usual seat.

Two days have passed, the fresh lead they had reported was nothing more than a false one, leading the team to take unusual measures when a new victim is found, it happened right under your noses, as if he knows every next move, always one step ahead in covering up evidence and redirecting the team. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. The team has managed to trace a profile of victims, young girls just out of their teens, who frequent bars in the wealthy area of the city, almost always using false identity, which makes identification difficult for the local police, in appearance similar... to you. Appearing to be younger than you really are made you a perfect bait. That's what Hotch said to convince you to interpret the role. Few hours in a high-class bar strategically chosen by Reid, a tall, muscular man starts to misfortune you, he is confident, flirtatious and even makes jokes, the opposite of what had been profiled. You dismissed him and gave your attention to someone who fit in, an antisocial man indicated by Hotchner by the hotspot in your ear. There was a trap waiting for him at the back door, you tried to do your part, luring him to the back exit, and it worked to a point, he fell as you squinted, but a pair of large, strong hands made you disappear into the gloom as the team cornered him.

When you wake up there is only darkness, something rough squeezing your wrists and a male voice humming, he doesn't seem to mind as he notices your consciousness, just ignores it and continues whatever he was doing. That man at the bar, who introduced himself as Nate and the first one to approach you, smiles as he takes a sip of water and keeps his eyes fixed on the neckline of your shirt.

- My little dove, I was just waiting for you to wake up for the fun. - he abruptly stands up and flashes a psychotic smile. - You're different from the others, you were with them, weren't you?! Those shits got my brother, poor Noah, he really thought someone would be interested in him, but you guys did me a favor, the kid was getting on my nerves. - Typical narcissism, you concluded when you saw the obvious admiration for himself and disdain even for the blood of his own blood.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - you decided to try to stay in character, clinging to a thread of hope to buy time until the team could locate you.

- Don't lie to me! - he shouts and strides over to you, kneeling in front of you, his face scarlet with anger. - Don't make me ruin your pretty face.

For more than two hours you have struggled against the clock and this man's countless tortures, he has plunged you at least ten times into the freezing water, keeping you there for seconds or minutes depending on his mood regarding your answers to all his baseless questions, a mind game. He wants to break you, he wants you to suffer before he finally does what he so desperately wants to do, impaling an ice stake through your chest, thus satisfying the pleasure, he feels is like the climax of the whole act. You shudder, knowing exactly what the end of this story will be if the team doesn't arrive in time. You're strong, but it's still hard to stay sane after hours of torture and swearing, Nate wants a confession, so giving it to the man might make him tired of you.

- Come on, Jessica! - he shouts your cover name in frustration and forces your head into the pool of water, the contact with the ice instantly burning your already bruised skin.

- Please, I'm telling you the truth. - you manage to whisper after being pulled back to the surface, exhausted both mentally and physically. - It was a coincidence...

- You are a liar. - the man throws you to the ground, then huffs, increasingly frustrated and annoyed with your persistence in staying in character, he rushes to get your belongings, raising a golden necklace that you wear under clothes during work, in the small round circle E is delicately engraved, a delicate accessory that you as wives wear symbolically instead of the ring - Emma? Elise? Evelyn? Elle? Oh...

Hearing your wife's name among the list of guesses caused an instinctive reaction even in your state of confusion and drowsiness, it brought you the reality of what is happening and that if something happens you will not see that smile again, nor the brown eyes full of affection or receive soft kisses that make you forget how sick the world is. The criminal realizes this, a sick smile growing on his lips as he comes to the erroneous conclusion that this is your name and now he can finally have you as a trophy. Nate jumps for joy like a child who just got his Christmas present, catching a glimpse of a dagger stuck in the waistband of his jeans, and it's fucking scary, especially when he comes inches away, grabbing you awkwardly to get you to stand up, face to face.

- Elle suits you. It's going to look so beautiful on my wall... C'mon, dove! - he pulls you to a brighter corner, completely empty, the only thing you see is a strong flash against your face, he registers the miserable state you are in and smiles staring at the small square that is revealed in a few minutes. You also stare at the picture as he practically forces you, your skin is pale, hair is sticking to your face and your extremities are purple, as are your lips. - Fun fact, you are the one who has endured the most. A record.

Nate throws you against a kind of surgical table, equally cold to the rest of the room, it's painful, frightening, but at the same time calm when you lie down, exhaustion has taken over and you're tired of fighting him, accepting your fate, too tired and abused to keep trying to fight back. Not even verbally, you have practically lost your voice after so many cries of pain, begging him to believe in you. There is a light above, strong enough to blind you and it almost makes you want to laugh, it looks like the light at the end of the shift that those who experience death and return describe. Your eyes close after seconds, surrendering to the cold embrace, your mind struggles to sketch in the uncomfortable clarity that woman you love so much, Elle is the last image you want to keep before you go. This comforts you as the disgusting man rips the shirt you wear, the thin point of the scissors makes a fine line from the foot of your stomach or breast valley, where the sharp part stops and presses.

- Not yet, dove! - he laughs sickeningly and pulls the utensil away from your skin - You know, I really enjoyed our little game. Maybe I'll do it again soon. And that's why I'll always remember you, Elle.

Another sharp thing is placed against your chest, exactly between your breasts, it's more painful and real, Nate is relating what he is doing and will do, always with a smile on his face for seeing you like this, destroyed. That's what the serial killer wanted from the beginning, but you fought back and no one has ever done that before, he easily subdued them, played mind games to find out something about them and then killed the hope he gave them by impaling each one with ice stakes. It's all about power, he had the power over his brother Noah playing him as his partner, over the police who had been hunting him for more than a month, over the women he hunted down and killed with his bare hands. You didn't give that to him right away, like a spoiled child he got angry and weakened you to breaking point. And he succeeded.

You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare for your fate, trying to materialize Elle, all the moments you spent together. The smiles she gave you in the elevator, that first slightly awkward date, the first kiss after the storm of her leaving the FBI, when you decided to move in together, every space you created together, the dream wedding and her face in pure admiration watching you walk down the altar. All the memories you have created for yourselves. And all the ones you haven't finished yet. The pain of being away from her is unimaginable, there are tears flowing as you wait for the undeniable destination, but nothing comes. You feel that you can finally crack when, as you open your blurred weeping eyes, you find Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss running up to you. Nate is on the ground, bleeding and being handcuffed by Hotchner. The flame of hope rekindles.

The screams in the hallway are heard throughout the entire wing, there is a commotion at the reception and a group of people in suits trying to hold a woman down, Morgan is trying to get Elle to stop squirming in his arms as she tries to reach Hotchner to choke him with her bare hands. Every time you go out on a mission she worries herself to death about every hour without news and as much as she understands the weight of being an agent she can't let go of these invasive thoughts, she can't stop thinking about the possibility of one of those psychopaths hurting you, just like one day one of them hurt her, always terrified of losing you. When she received a call in the middle of the afternoon after going almost a day without replies by text, she knew, something had happened. With sweaty hands and trembling, the police answered, not the least bit relieved to hear Derek on the other end of the line. He got right to the point, something she was grateful for because she felt she might faint imagining the worst, halfway through the call she was already in the car on her way to the airport, praying for last minute tickets to Minnesota. She flew out with nothing but documents and body clothes, in two hours she walked through the doors ready to kill the chief, she knew about the cover, you spoke before the mission, and for Elle there is no one to blame but him for putting you in this position knowing the danger. There was not enough information, an uncertain and dangerous terrain that he risked with her wife's life.

- You can let me go, Morgan. He's not worth it. - she stops moving and is finally put on the ground, the two of them face each other before she tries to get past him, being stopped by the same arms that were holding her before - Let me go now, I'm going to see my wife.

- Greenaway, you better calm down...

- Calm down, Hotch? Fuck you! You shouldn't have sent her in this shitty disguise just out of desperation, as if her life wasn't important too. - she starts, trying not to get worked up again.

- Don't you understand...

- Don't I understand? You don't care about her. - Elle backs away and puts her hands over face, sighing trying to control her breathing, pure frustration - Besides, why the hell did you call me after twelve hours? I could have been here hours ago. Damn it! I'm going to go see her, now.

- Elle...

- Derek, I need to...

- You need to calm down.

- No, I don't need to. You put her in danger, then acted like I wasn't her family and didn't even call me at the time she was hospitalized, nor did you have that compassion. I know how indifferent you treat her because she is married to me, how great and mature a team can be around that. You should just be ashamed of yourselves. Y/N is so different from me and has proven this in so many ways, she has shown how amazing she is as a person and agent, worthy of all of your trust. - as soon as she says this the agents bow their heads, not knowing what to say or how to defend what there is no defense for, feeling that they have failed as teammates, even though it is a necessary risky mission there should be someone to trim her down, someone who knows her beyond what is in the file.

- Still, you should wait. - Hotchner insists, crossing his arms.

- I've already waited long enough. - she tries to run towards the corridor and ends up being held by the tall man by the arm, they stare at each other, then Elle does something no one would imagine, she screams at the top of her lungs in his face - That's my wife, let me see my wife! Stop holding me back, I'll see her, whether you like it or not... - the anger taking over again.

- Hotch, let her go... - JJ intervenes and he finally releases her, letting her go.

Elle runs in search of the room you have been assigned, slipping on her boots when she finally finds the right number, all the anxiety she has built up all the way to Minessota manifesting itself in tears. She can't believe her eyes, she has imagined a similar scenario many times and usually in nightmares, but nothing compares to the real feeling of it actually happening. The tightness in her heart to see the person she loves hospitalized is too much for the woman, you are still pale, skin marked by bruises in several places, frostbite, a cut lip and a bandage in the middle of your chest. That image would not leave her mind so quickly. Elle takes a deep breath, trying to control her emotions and herself, trying to become the support you need right now, to be the wife you need. Before entering the room she wipes her tears and tries to open a smile, which turns out to be melancholic.

- El...

- Sweetie... - you speak at the same time - Sorry for the delay, I wanted to be here before, I swear. - the tears that she held so tightly return with more force and emotion, wetting your hospital clothes when Elle hugs you, gently, afraid of hurting you more than already - Did it hurt? Did I hurt you?

- No, maybe a little, my muscles still hurt... Actually, I'm a little better, before I was miserable. - You're secretly thankful that she didn't see you like that, it would have traumatized your wife forever and it's a sight you don't want her to see. - The doctor said it was a miracle, I could have had acute pneumonia, severe hypothermia, coma or even a heart attack. Think on the bright side.

- I can't think on the bright side when I almost lost you forever.... - she straightens up on the edge of the hospital bed, looking straight into your eyes, showing all her feelings and frailties - I was afraid, I still am, very afraid.

- I was too, El. The thought that I wouldn't see you anymore hurt me more than any of these physical injuries. - the woman approaches and strokes your face, both of you allowing the tears to take over in this post-storm moment - Were you at work?

- Yes, I rushed here as soon as I got the notice. - and it was clear to you, she is still wearing the shirt you helped her pick out by video call the day before - Before you ask, I asked my cousin to feed Reba. - she guessed what your question would be next, always concerned about your pet kitten, a two-year-old Siamese cat who is extremely attached to you. - Oh, I picked this up at the airport for you. - From her pants pocket she pulls out a small pink teddy bear with a heart on it, with a cute little bow on top.

- Aw that's very sweet. - You give her a chaste kiss, taking the little gift in hand, smelling a sweet perfume of vanilla and freshly washed things.

- What can I do for you? - Elle asks, standing up, ready to do anything you want. - I know you hate hospital food, so do you want me to get you something from a restaurant? Clothes? Snacks? Board games? Derek says you're going to be in observation for a few days.

- El, I just want you.

- What?

- You. I want you to lie with me until sleep. - she approaches uncertainly and ends up being pulled by you to lie down together, careful not to hurt you in any way - I'm not made of glass.

- I know, I'm sorry. - You arrange yourselves on the small bed, she becomes the bigger spoon hugging you tenderly, distributing small affectionate kisses on your neck and back, making declarations of love and thanking you for being alive - I love you very, very much, sweetie.

- I love you more, El.

And so you fall asleep in the arms of the woman you love, no matter how physically injured, emotionally traumatized and exhausted you are, Elle seems to momentarily heal all your pain with love. After all, it was worth every effort in keeping hope, just to see her again.

#elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:

“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”

Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”

“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”

Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”

—————

But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…

“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.

You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”

“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”

Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.

“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.

“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.

“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.

“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”

“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.

“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”

“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”

“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.

You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”

You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”

He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”

“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.

“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.

“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.

From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”

—————

But WAIT! There’s even more!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

#i love one (1) man your honor #that quiet possessiveness #sign me up #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch #bau!reader #hotch x bau!reader #hotch fanfiction #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x bau!reader

[dudeitiskarev]

AARON HOTCHNER MASTERLIST

Sudden Desire — Completed (18+) Original female character

Stella’s always been into older men, but she never meant to fall for her mom's new boyfriend. 

Includes: age gap; mom’s boyfriend trope; eventual smut; canon-typical violence.

Word count: 74.7k

Closer — Completed (18+) Original female character

After being dragged to a bachelor party, Agent Aaron Hotchner saves a stripper from a pig who touches her without her consent, but that’s not what led them to be on each other’s bed almost every night.

Includes: Neighbors trope; friend to lovers; eventual smut.

Word count: 105.4k.

Untouched — WIP - Latina Original female character

The exit of Penelope Garcia brought in a new addition to the team. Bianca is a hopeless romantic who enjoys murders more than she admits to. Since day one she’s been labeled as exceptional and it’s not until a former member of the BAU returns that she has to prove herself to her team. 

Includes: age gap; dad’s friend trope; taboo; virginity; eventual smut; canon-typical violence.

Current word count: 5.9k

Irresistible — (18+)

A series of one shots between Hotch and virgin female reader . 

Includes: age gap; porn without plot; innocence kink; virginity.

Current word count: 19.8k

Whispers of the Heart — WIP - deaf female reader

This is a love story. 

Current word count: 9.7k

Accidentally In Love — WIP - female reader

Penelope has a plan: throw an arrow full of love dust and make you and Hotch fall in love with each other. A series of small…inconveniences keep happening whenever you two end up in the same room, so it takes her more than one try to work her magic on you. Each incident serves its purpose, though, meaning Garcia’s work is only the last push you two need to get a happily ever after—a Penelope centered fun ride with lots of fluff and all the cheesy stuff.

Current word count: 3.8k

Fake Date (18+) — 6.4k words

House Sitter (18+) — 2.1k words

Room Service (18+) — 2.2k words

Bombastic — 1k words

(one of those) Crazy Girls — 1k words

Hershey’s Kisses (18+) — 2.2k words

Your Voice — 2.6k words

Salt and Pepper (18+) — 2.9k words

My One and Only (18+) — 7.3k words

Safe Haven — 2.4K words

Moment’s Silence (18+) — 1.3k words

Almost Lover — 4.5k words

Like in The Movies — 1.1k words

Yours For The Weekend (18+) — 1k words

Gleaming (18+) — 2.3k words

I want to hold your hand — 2.4k words

It’s just you and me (18+)— 1.8k words

Blurbs (less than 1k words)

Aaron helps you get dressed after you get injured

Wedding day and some doubts

Needy and whiny Hotch 18+

Face mask with Hotchy

Teacher reader

Jealous Hotch

Unsub Hotch

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