#aaron hotchner

[ssahotchnerr]

fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe

it's a date

there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3

You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.

Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:

A low whistle exited Morgan.

"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.

Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.

"Hot date?"

"You could say that."

Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.

"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.

"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."

"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.

As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.

Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.

"That bad?"

You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."

There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.

"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."

That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"

"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Shrek."

Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.

"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.

"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."

Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.

"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.

"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.

The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.

"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.

"What about me?"

"Who's going to make it up to you?"

"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.

"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."

A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"

"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."

All yours. He could get used to that.

"It's a date."

[zvdvdlvr]

Lolololol imagine Aaron coming home from a case and your little baby girl and jack are quietly reading a book as you lay sprawlrd on the bed hahahaha im normal!

It was out of the ordinary for you not to greet Aaron with a kiss after he set his briefcase down and tossed his keys onto the table. The time was 09:36, so it was safe to say Aaron was mildly concerned about your whereabouts.

He walked slowly to your shared bedroom and heard a tiny voice punctured by some quiet coos. Aaron opened the door, relaxing.

You were sleeping on your side, entire body curved as to keep little Giada constained while you slept. She was laying on your arm as Jack used your stomach as a pillow, reading quietly from a Magic Tree House book.

Aaron felt his heart swell and his eyes water at the sight. When you had told Aaron about Giada, you were worried you would turn out like your parents. But Aaron knew otherwise. You were an amazing wife and an even better mother.

When Jack finally looked up, he lit up. He carefully collected his little sister into his arms and met his dad in the middle of the room to hug him. “Hi daddy!” Jack greeted.

Aaron knelt down. “Hey kiddos,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to each of their forhead’s. Giada bubbled excitedly, reaching up for Aaron. “Were you both good?”

“Yes! We went to the park a lot and I got to hang out with Ricky!” Jack excitedly said.

“Hi Aaron.”

The man looked up, his finger being gnawed on by the little girl in his hands. “Hey sweetheart,” he smiled. “Sorry we woke you.”

Jack climbed into your lap and motioned for Aaron to take your other side.

“‘S alright. Good to have you back, angel,” you said, resting your head against his chest as Giada started clawing for you.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

🎀 CM KidFic Rec List 🧸

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.

(All works are Fem!Reader unless specified otherwise)

🌸 SFW Spencer Reid/Reader 🌸

Rite of Passage by @foxy-eva: Spencer and Reader's teenage daughter gets her period for the first time.

Mister Spencer by @imagining-in-the-margins: Reader has a crush on her child’s teacher.

Santa’s Gift by @foxy-eva: Spencer and his wife get a very special gift from Santa.

Fairytales by me: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Pretty Boy by @foxy-eva: Seeing how Spencer would do anything to make their daughter smile never fails to warm his wife’s heart.

The Prodigy Path by me: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

Protection Spell by @emberfrostlovesloki: Reader reflects on when she and Spencer found out they were first pregnant and asks Spencer what he whispers to their child every morning. 

Hypothetically by @incognit0slut: Chronically single, Reader suggests a pact with her best friend to start a family together when they turn forty.

Baby Steps by @reiderwriter: Spencer hears his daughters first words while his partner is "out."

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy? by @/reiderwriter: Reader is worried about one of her brightest students, so she calls her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad in for a meeting.

Parallel Parked by @snixkers: Reader and Spencer take their daughter to school for the first time, but they can’t make themselves leave the parking lot.

Broken Words by @andiebeaword: Spencer and Reader have a one night stand. Reader overhears Spencer confess to J.J. that he 'would’ve' had kids with Maeve. 

An Apple Doesn't Fall Far by @railingsofsorrow: Reader takes care of her daughter while she's sick and some memories of her childhood resurface.

More ratings and pairings below!

🦋 NSFW S.R./Reader 🦋

Ever Expanding by @foxy-eva: Spencer and his wife decide it’s time to expand their family.

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.

Santa’s Gift by me: Reader asks her husband what he wants for Christmas.

Double Booked for the Night by @reidmotif: Reader and Spencer have been double-booked by JJ for a night of babysitting. What happens when buried feelings arise?

🪻 Other Pairings 🪻

Motherhood by @foxy-eva: (Temily) Emily and Tara finally become mothers.

Patience & Hope by @foxy-eva: (Ralvez) Spencer and Luke learn what being a family really means.

In the Still of Night by @mrs-dr-reid: (Hotch/Fem!R) Aaron and Reader are relishing in the first night with their newborn baby.

Better Days by @reiderwriter: (Hotch/Fem!R) Reader's been dating her boss or a few months, but she's the first one he calls for a family emergency. She has to decide if being a part of his family is the right choice for her.

Baby Fever by @emberfrostlovesloki: (Emily/Fem!R) Reader asks Emily if she wants to have a baby. Emily has a little question of her own for the reader.

Night Changes by @reidingrainbow: (Moreid, NSFW) Derek and Spencer find out they're expecting in a... less than ideal fashion.

🌸 Gen/Platonic Fics 🌸

Untangled [Ao3] by @/storytimeonthemoon: Spencer's daughter has a meltdown at school, so he brings her home and gives her a soft place to land.

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

Cookie Jar by @codename-mom: The team is on the field without Hotch when they call him. Suddenly, something happens and everybody worries about Jack.

Good News by @/codename-mom: Kate has to tell her superior she's pregnant, but she has no idea how he'll react.

Waterproof by @/codename-mom: Hotch has to stay behind on a case but the team needs his advice and tries to join him on a phone. The conversation is... special.

Arm Wrestling on a Couch by @/codename-mom: JJ needs to talk with Hotch about her pregnancy, so she goes to his apartment without warning him.

Around an Ice Cream by @/codename-mom: Jessica went to the park with Jack and he has a curious reaction to her ice cream.

Looking for more?

Keep reading for the rest of my Spencer Reid fics associated with pregnancy and parenting!

🦋 SFW S.R./Mom!Reader 🦋

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

Painting by Numbers: Spencer is still a little worried about his pregnant wife painting the house.

Practice Run: Spencer and Reader take on Derek’s challenge to babysit.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

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

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

🪻 S.R. & Child!Reader 🪻

Like Father, Like You: Child!Reader. Platonic. In which Spencer’s child comes out as not-straight.

Still unsatisfied?! Try the Family Challenge Entries and Father's Day Recs!

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!

[wistfulwatcher]

EMILY & HOTCH DANCING in 7.24 RUN

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

masterlist

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hey, hope you're doing good! How about Hotch helping Reader paint her toes? It's one of those everything shower days so she's doing all her self care (including washing her hair) so her arms are tired, and he decides to help her 🥺

I’m doing well! How are you?

“Honey you can’t climb up there,” Aaron laughs through the words as he watches you climb onto your kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel as you fix the skirt of one of your house dresses.

“I’ll only be here for a bit,” you say playfully as Aaron turns to face you, a glass of matcha in his hands. He gives it to you without a word, standing between your parted legs as you take a sip. “Thank you.”

“What do you need, honey?” He asks, and you smile guiltily. You’ve not done anything wrong and even if you did Aaron would only be upset if it was life threatening.

You stir the ice in your drink around with your straw. “I want to paint my toes, with that new nail polish that I got the other day,” Aaron knows the one you’re talking about.

You and him had gone out after your doctor’s visit for lemonade, cinnamon sugar pretzel twists and a tiny shopping spree- in which you’d picked up the polish you’re referring to now.

You tuck your cheek to your shoulder and smile, “But my arms are achy.”

Aaron laughs again, kissing your forehead. His hands coast down your back, pulling you into his chest a little. “Where’s the polish?”

You giggle, a further smile dimpling your boyfriend’s cheeks as you wiggle out of his hold and lean back on the counter to reach for the watermelon red polish. Aaron’s hands stay on your thighs to keep you steady.

“Alright, hop down and I’ll paint them in the living room.” Despite his words, Aaron’s hands guide you down and onto your feet, your dress picking up at your hips making it even shorter. He pushes it down, hand sliding over your bum.

“Do you wanna watch the new episode of ‘Interview with the Vampire,’ while you do it?” You link your fingers for the short walk to the living room, swinging your hands.

“Yes honey, we can look at it.”

[yondiii]

BITING GNAWING CLAWING AT THE BARS OF MY CAGE

[darlingifalltopieces]

Just Spencer Reid spinning in his chair roughly 11 years apart

01x01

12x04

Bonus: Gideon looking dead inside while Spencer keeps spinning in the background

[kllingdaddy]

idk if i should or shouldn't find this hot ( i find this really hot )

[vivienvalentino]

CRIMINAL MINDS — 06.09, In the Blood

[emilyprentissluvr]

Don't Tempt Me (Don't Blame Me, Chapter 2)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Chapter 1

Warnings: Regular CM stuff

Words: 3.3k

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

EMILY STARED at herself in the mirror. Her hair was perfectly curled with bangs sitting just above her eyebrows. The black dress she bought hugged every curve of her body and showed off her toned legs. Emily knew she looked good, but hated the small part of her that wanted to look good. 

A knock on the door made Emily tear her gaze away from the mirror. "Come in!" The brunette called and a couple of seconds later Hotch opened the door and walked into the locker room. "You sure you're up to this?" The unit chief asked, a hint of concern laced his signature frown.

"Yes Hotch, I am the one that suggested it," Emily reminded him as she walked to her locker to grab a pair of earrings. "I know, just double checking," Hotch said. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about this plan, if he could even call it that. It had been less than 12 hours since Emily suggested taking Y/n out on a date. How all of this transpired so quickly was still a mystery to Hotch. There was a higher probability of things going wrong than right, but he knew they had to act fast before Y/n left DC.

"Did Garcia find anything else?" Emily asked as she finished putting her small, silver hoops in.

"Well, she's using a burner phone to text you so we can't trace her. And we can't find her in any database with just a first name, plus it could be fake anyway." Hotch said as he leaned against the frame of the door. "So, in short terms, we have absolutely nothing." Emily sighed and Hotch nodded apologetically. 

"We do have her profile though. And up to this point, she's only ever killed men." Hotch offered and Emily couldn't help but laugh, "She's still an unpredictable, high-functioning psychopath."

"I know, I just..." Hotch trailed off, knowing that there wasn't anything to say to comfort the agent in front of him. "Don't let your guard down and don't do anything stupid." He added.

"Me? Do something stupid? Never." Emily said as she closed her locker and Hotch scoffed before cracking a rare smile. "The cars ready for you," He said getting back on topic, "Derek's going to be there and I have five other undercover agents scattered throughout the bar."

Emily nodded as she gathered her belongings and followed Hotch out the door. "Do you have a plan for when you get in there?" The unit chief asked as the pair walked into the elevator. "I'll make her wait for a little, maybe have Derek talk to her. Get her warmed up a bit and then take her down when she least expects it." Emily said.

"That's it?" Hotch asked slowly, already hating this plan more and more. 

"Well, there's still a chance Y/n knows exactly what she's walking into. And if she does then I'll press the button" Emily said as she held up her wrist. Penelope had given her a bracelet with a small button on it that would alert the team if she pressed it. "I know what I'm doing though, trust me on that."

"Okay, but if at any point I think things are going south I'm sending SWAT in," Hotch said seriously and Emily nodded in agreement. 

As they walked out of the elevator and to the car Emily felt her phone buzz.  She pulled it out of the bag, already knowing who the message was from.

Y/N (6:03 PM)- I can't wait to see you again, Emily.

Emily let out a shallow breath as she reread the message and then pocketed her phone. As soon as she got into the car she closed her eyes, trying to gather herself. She was no stranger to being undercover. In fact, this wasn't even her first undercover case with a serial killer. But it was the first time she had to go undercover as herself. No fake identities or new personas, just regular, old Emily Prentiss. So this should be easy enough, right? Well, at least Emily hoped to God it would be. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Y/n sat at the bar counter in the same black pantsuit from this morning as she waited for Emily to show up. The brunette had sent her the address to one of her favorite bars, and so far Y/n had been impressed. Although, it was currently 6:40, which meant that Emily was ten minutes late but Y/n wasn't too upset. 

"Now what is a pretty lady like you doing all alone?" A man asked as he slid into the chair next to Y/n. The woman turned her head and was face to face with Derek Morgan. She stared at him, eyes narrowing, and Derek had honestly never felt more scrutinized by someone's gaze until now.

"I'm waiting for someone," Y/n said, her hard look quickly turning into a smile and Derek was surprised by how genuine it looked. 

"I wouldn't make you wait," Derek said with a boyish smile as he leaned closer, his knees bumping into Y/n's as he swerved his chair more in her direction. Derek didn't know what he was expecting, be he did not expect Y/n to place a delicate hand on his knee, "I suppose I have time to kill," She said thoughtfully. "I'm Y/n."

"Derek," The agent said as he placed his hand on top of hers. 

"Ruler of the people," Y/n murmured as she tilted her head slightly.

"Excuse me?" Derek asked, confused as to what she was saying.

"The name Derek. It means ruler of the people," Y/n said as she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. She once again eyed the man up and down and Derek, who usually loved the attention from women, was starting to feel uneasy. 

"The meaning behind a name is just as important as the name, don't you think?" Y/n asked and Derek nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Now, are you going to buy me a drink or are you merely gracing me with your presence?" Y/n asked, her tone sickly sweet even when it was full of sarcasm.

"Oh right," Derek said shaking his head. He couldn't even comprehend how a two-minute conversation was already throwing him off his game, "What do want?"

"Two Old Fashioned's." Y/n smiled and Derek tried not to read into it the fact that that was one of Emily's favorite drinks. Derek waved the bartender down and ordered the drink. When Derek turned back to Y/n he saw that she was surveying the bar, obviously looking for Emily, although the intentions behind her eyes were still unknown to the agent.

"Are you sure you're not getting stood up?" Derek joked and Y/n turned to look at him with a slight eyebrow raise. "I don't get stood up," She said seriously and Derek believed it.

"Two Old Fashioned's!" The bartender said as he placed the drinks on the counter in front of them. From the corner of Derek's eye, he could see Y/n smile as she looked at the door. As soon as he was about to grab the drink, Y/n's hand cut him off and grabbed both of them. 

"Sorry to cut this short Derek, but it seems that my date has arrived." She smiled as she stood up. 

"Wait that was my drink-" Derek started before he was cut off by Y/n, who was behind his chair, leaning over to whisper in his ear, "Not anymore."

Derek hated the way he tensed up but that only made Y/n laugh softly. "We should do this again sometime," Y/n murmured before pulling away and walking to the middle of the bar. Even though he was now nervous for Emily, he couldn't be more relieved to be away from Y/n. There was something about the woman that Derek couldn't shake.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would show up." Y/n smiled as she shamelessly looked Emily up and down. The brunette just shook her head apologetically, "Sorry! I got stuck at work." She said as the two women made their way through the crowd. 

"You look gorgeous," Y/n complimented as she fell into step with the brunette. Emily smiled as her hand easily found its way to Y/n's lower back as she guided her to a table in the corner of the room, "So do you," Emily said and she wasn't lying. The black suit fit Y/n perfectly and it was one of the reasons Emily had been so drawn to her this morning.

"I thought it was a slow day," Y/n threw over her shoulder. "I thought so too." Emily chuckled as they found a table, her hand dropping from Y/n's back as she reached for her drink. She briefly took note that it was her favorite drink, but she also knew that they had a similar taste in coffee so she didn't want to read into that much. 

"So what is it you do, Emily?" Y/n asked as she took a sip of her drink. 

"I'm an accountant with the firm a couple blocks away," Emily lied easily, "And you?"

"I'm a writer." Y/n smiled and Emily tilted her head slightly, "Really?" She asked, not expecting that to have been the younger woman's answer. 

"Yes, well, I'm a ghostwriter if you want to get specific," Y/n answered and Emily frowned, "What does that mean?"

"I write stories anonymously and sell them to authors so they can put their names on them," Y/n said.

"So you do all the work but don't get any credit?" Emily asked, extremely intrigued if the woman in front of her was telling the truth. Although it did make sense, Y/n didn't profile as a narcissist. 

"I do the work and get a big paycheck, darling. I love to write but I don't want the fame that comes with it." Y/n said and Emily brushed her finger against the younger woman's knuckles, "So I take it you're pretty successful. Who do you write for?" The agent asked, suddenly wondering if she had ever read one of Y/n's books.

"I'm afraid that's classified."

"I'll have you know I am nothing if not persistent," Emily grinned, "You went overseas for your job, right? So it's not an American author." Emily pointed and Y/n shook her head amused, "Alright, enough about me," Y/n said as she grabbed onto the brunette's hand, "Come on. Let's dance," She smiled as she began to drag Emily to the middle of the bar.

"Already?" Emily practically yelled as she followed Y/n. The brunette naively hoped that they would have talked longer. It was kind of part of her plan but it seems like that was out the window now. 

"It's never too early to dance," Y/n said as she pulled Emily flush against her in the crowded room. Her hands went to Emily's hips as the brunette threw are arms lazily around Y/n's neck. She couldn't help but stare into Y/n's eyes. Her gaze was soft, eyes reflecting the flashing lights of the bar, and Emily couldn't help but get lost in them. There was something innocent about Y/n's eyes and that was what pulled Emily out of her trance. Because Y/n wasn't innocent, actually she was probably the furthest thing from innocent. Emily took a deep breath and tried to refocus. 

"I never got the chance to finish my drink," Emily said as her body swayed to the music and Y/n followed suit.

"I didn't take you for someone who needs a drink to have fun," Y/n said as she pulled Emily impossibly closer, their noses were less than an inch away. "I'm not," The brunette said, tilting her head and she realized she would have the perfect angle to connect her lips to the soft ones in front of her. Not that she was going to, or wanted to,Emily reminded herself. 

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Y/n smirked as her thumbs brushed against Emily's hipbones. As soon as Y/n did that she felt herself being flipped around so that her back was right up against the brunette's front. Emily snaked her arms around Y/n's waist and hooked her chin on Y/n's shoulder. "Don't tempt me," Emily murmured against the shell of Y/n's ear, and the agent couldn't help but revel in the way Y/n shivered. For the first time tonight, Emily felt like she was the one in control.

"It's fun to rile you up though." Y/n smiled as turned her face towards Emily, her nose brushing against the side of Emily's cheek. 

"You couldn't handle me riled up." Emily chuckled, although her eyes betrayed her when her gaze focused back on Y/n's plush lips for a brief second. She had hoped Y/n hadn't seen it but of course, she wasn't so lucky. 

"Was that a challenge? Because I'll have you know, I love a challenge." Y/n said as she placed her hands on top of Emily's and leaned further back into her. Emily knew this was her chance, granted it came a lot sooner than she thought. But her trained eye saw the opening so she knew she had to take it, "Let's get out of here," Emily murmured into Y/n's ear, "I'll show you what a real challenge looks like." The brunette continued and Y/n immediately unwrapped herself from Emily's arms and dragged the both of them toward the bathroom. 

Emily made brief eye contact with Derek and he raised his eyebrows silently asking if everything was fine. She gave a slight nod, her code to let him know she was fine and to not approach unless she called for backup. The brunette quickly tore her attention away from Derek and to her hand that was interlaced with Y/n's.

Before they could even make it to the bathroom Emily felt herself being pushed against a wall and Y/n's soft lips claimed her own. She was taken back for a second but her hands still instinctively shot to Y/n's hips. It was the way that Y/n's hands made their to Emily's hair and tugged slightly that Emily was brought back to reality. 

She immediately kissed Y/n back, loving the way she could taste the slight hint of citrus. Wait, not loving, she was only doing this so she could arrest Y/n. Emily reminded herself, even though it was very hard to think about anything other than the Y/n's lips felt.

Emily pulled Y/n even closer, practically lifting the woman as her tongue trailed along Y/n's bottom lip. "Let's go back to my place," Emily said, pulling her head away for a brief second and trying to ignore the beautifully kiss-swollen lips in front of her.

"I have a better idea," Y/n murmured as she connected their lips once again, her kiss was hungry and passionate but soft at the same time. Emily tried not to enjoy it, she knew shouldn't. Y/n was a serial killer after all, but did she have to be so good at kissing?!

Emily felt herself being pulled away from the wall but her lips never left Y/n's. She didn't even know where they were going until she heard a door slam shut and a lock click. The agent internally cursed herself for not being attentive enough, but she could still fix this.

"I think we can do better than a quickie in the bathroom," Emily said as she easily flipped the two of them around, pinning Y/n to the wall by her hips. The younger woman gasped in surprise before looping her arms around Emily's neck. Y/n smiled as she started placing kisses along the brunette's defined jawline. She nipped at the spot just below Emily's ear and she tried her best to suppress the moan that wanted to leave her lips. 

"Not much of an exhibitionist, Agent Prentiss?" Y/n said as she pulled back and gave Emily a sadistic smile. 

Emily felt her stomach drop. She should have known this was too easy. Should have known the second laid eyes on Y/n in the bar earlier. But somehow she couldn't think straight whenever she looked at the woman in front of her. 

"What? Do you really think I am that stupid?" Y/n said with a pout as she studied the way Emily's face hardened. "That I would unknowingly walk into your so-called trap?" Y/n chuckled as she twirled Emily's curls in her hands. "And then you had Derek come over and flirt with me? It's quite comical how predictable you are."

"Why'd you come then?" Emily asked, trying to figure out the right moment to call for backup.

"Like I said earlier, I love a challenge." Y/n grinned before flipping them so quickly that Emily didn't have time to fight back before her back hit the wall. "But right now, it's proving to be rather easy," Y/n sighed as she traced Emily's bottom lip, "You and your team were supposed the be the best. But I have to say, I am rather unimpressed."

Emily immediately pulled her head away even though she had nowhere to go since she was still pinned to the wall. "So you knew who I was this morning at the coffee shop," Emily stated, not knowing if that was worse or better at this particular moment.

Y/n eyes lit up as she leaned closer, "No, I didn't know who you were. That part just was luck."

"So lucky," Emily muttered under breath.  

"As soon as I realized who you were, I cursed myself for being so sloppy," Y/n said, ignoring Emily as trailed her finger across her collarbones, "But then I realized that meeting you was a blessing in disguise. Because now I know what I've been missing for all these years."

"And what's that?" Emily asked as she quickly used all of her momentum and knocked both of them to the floor. Y/n's back collided with the ground and Emily straddled her hips to keep her down. The agent pinned her arms above her head and Y/n barked out a laugh as she stared at the woman on top of her, "Bold. I like it."

"Answer my question" Emily gritted out, as her hands tightened against Y/n's wrist. 

"This. I've missed this." Y/n said she leaned her head up, now inches away from Emily's. "The hunt. It's exhilarating. And I am definitely not going to complain about being pinned down by a very beautiful woman." Y/n grinned and Emily just shook her head. "Well, the hunt's over." She said as she leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "We have almost fifty agents waiting out there for you. The only way you're getting out of here is in cuffs." Emily continued and Y/n surged forward so their lips were almost touching, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Agent Prentiss."

Emily stared into Y/n's eyes, not liking the look in them. There wasn't an ounce of fear for someone who had just been caught. The agent racked her brain with the younger woman's profile, she knew she wouldn't go down without a fight. Knew that everything she did was unpredictable but also meticulously planned. There was no way someone of this caliber would walk into a trap and not have a backup plan. 

"I can see the cogs in your brain turning, Agent Prentiss." Y/n grinned and Emily shook her head, "What else are you up to?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the woman's under her. 

"Reach into my back pocket and find out," Y/n said as she wiggled her hips under Emily's weight. Emily rolled her eyes as she took her weight off the younger woman's torso and immediately hauled them both to a standing position. The agent made quick work of repining Y/n's arms behind her back.

She carefully reached into Y/n's back pocket and pulled out a small device. Emily furrowed her eyebrows as she got a better look at it and realized there was a small timer on the front that appeared to be counting down from 2 minutes.

"What is this?" Emily asked as she lifted the device to the other woman's eyes.

Y/n smiled as her eyes went from the device to Emily. "What? You've never seen a bomb detonator before?"

[zvdvdlvr]

sheriff aaron hotchner loving an outlaw in like 1899

“Well hello, sheriff,” you drawled, observing the man from the opposite side of the bars. “Come to let me go?”

Sheriff Hotchner’s jaw clenched. “Get out of my town, y/n.”

You watched the man unlock your cell. Luckily, you were the only one in the jailhouse. “Or what, sheriff? You’d… have me hanged? Shoot me?”

“Having you hanged would relieve the permanent headache you give me,” the sheriff growled, standing still as you sized him up with your sly smirk. He couldn’t fall in live with an outlaw, no matter how enticing you looked.

Your smile just widened. “You’d miss me too much. And we all know you like the pain,” you purred, bringing a fingertip up to trace a line down sheriff Hotchner’s temple.

Despite your featherlight touch, Aaron felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Leave, y/n. Don’t come back. It’s not safe.”

You shrugged. You had a few hours until daybreak. “Kiss me goodbye?”

The lonesome sheriff wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him, feeling the bulge of his belt buckle and holsters through the layers if your clothing. “Troublesome girl,” he whispered before turning your smirk into a gasp of pleasure.

[doehoney]

Criminal Minds is so real for their “the unsub is a man until proven otherwise” mentality

[youbutstupid]

Ages of the Criminal Minds cast because PSA: life doesn’t stop at 40

Mandy Patinkin, 71. Thomas Gibson, 61

Lola Glaudini, 52. A.J. Cook, 45

Matthew Gray Gubler, 44. Kirsten Vangsness, 51

Shemar Moore, 54. Paget Brewster, 55

Joe Mantegna, 76. Meta Golding, 52

Rachel Nichols, 44. Jeanne Tripplehorn, 60

Jennifer Love Hewitt, 45. Aisha Tyler, 53

Adam Rodriguez, 49. Daniel Henney, 44

[callsignred]

Oh look, another older man.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hello love ! I see that you were asking for domestic aaron hotchner requests and I had a thought !

reader was recently discharged from the hospital after a major surgery, and aaron being the amazing man he is, decided - since it’s his day off, he’d make her breakfast in bed?

( maybe jack helps too ?? )

changed it a tad, so it's mom!reader who's just given birth and i hope that's okay <3

“All set?” Aaron asks as you sit up on the hospital bed, a pain between your legs as you watch him hold your little baby with one hand and reach for you with his other one. 

“I really wanna go home and have mint chocolate ice cream with Jack and the baby,” you’re tearing up as Aaron sits you in the wheelchair they provided, settling your baby in your arms the moment you’re comfortable. 

“He’s with Penelope and Derek in the cafeteria, he said there were chocolate chip cookies on display.” you hum, leaning your head back tiredly. Aaron kisses your forehead, something more than love nestled between his ribs. 

You hear him before you see him, a smile already on your face as you hear his shoes squeaking on the tiles. 

“I got you this, and it’s warm!” Jack says, kissing your cheek with all the energy of a kid hopped up on sugar. 

“Thank you Jack, did you have yours already?” you break yours in half and give it to him when he nods, Aaron shaking his head fondly at the action. 

“How’re you feeling mama?” Derek asks, watching you chew on the cookie and stroke your baby’s cheek. 

“I could sleep for a week, but the pain is mostly gone.” 

Penelope hooks a gift bag on one of the arms of the wheelchair with a smile. “That’s a care package from the girls and I.” she kisses your forehead and Derek and her leave, your little family strolling out of the hospital chatting together, with you mostly listening to Aaron and Jack’s master plan of taking care of you and the baby.