#Alpha Derek Morgan

[bastardbystander]

stepping back from my usual ASOIAF posts, I re-posted my Criminal Minds fic for the people !! Snippet below & more tags on ao3 !!

Snippet:

“Are you hard, Love?” he asked, reaching out to trace his finger up Spencer’s thigh.

“N-No,” Spencer said, biting his lip and watching as Derek’s finger traveled higher.

“Don’t lie, Baby,” Derek scolded, moving the book onto the duvet for a better look at the bulge between his legs. “Good boys tell the truth.”

Spencer’s breath hitched as Derek climbed up to straddle his lap, smirking down at him with an evil glint in his eyes.

“You gonna be a good boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” Spencer breathed.

OR Spencer Reid reads Cheesy Romance Novels and wants to try one out with his wonderful boyfriend Derek Morgan

[masterwords]

Corporate needs you to find the difference between this picture:

And this picture:

They're the same picture.

Bonus:

[eldrai]

"Which one is the bottom?" "But who tops?"

do you remember when derek ran into an active bombing site because hotch was down there and needed help. do you remember when hotch told derek he had and always would trust him with his life. do you remember hotch coming with derek in restorations. leaving the door open in profiler, profiled. derek being the one to hold him after foyet. what about "no thanks, I like my job" "you like him more". how hotch's hallucinated fears culminated in derek dying right in front of him, close enough to feel the blood. or derek saying call hotch--not 911, hotch--when they kidnapped him. or the casual touches. every time they share space they have no real reason to other than because the other is there. remember when derek took on some of the paperwork because he knew what it was like to have a single parent, so hotch wouldn't stress? or when hotch heard derek say he'd lied about a body, he'd needed help, and was instantly ready to go? how over and over they always gravitate back to each other? remember when derek said hotch could sometimes be kind of a drill sergeant, softening it with the qualifiers? when hotch tells derek about haley leaving? when derek says to rossi he's going to do whatever hotch needs him to do because he's lost enough? every single time derek is the one to seriously worry about hotch when he's hurt? do you remember all of that?

to answer the question, i don't know. i don't see why it matters, because i think any of the above tells you infinitely more about them.

[callalillywrites]

All the guys I write are like this.

where?

[avis-writeshq]

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever. 

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead. 

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche. 

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk. 

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters. 

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things. 

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug. 

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.” 

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his). 

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights. 

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight. 

*** 

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

*** 

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in. 

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door. 

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there. 

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features. 

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face. 

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

[juniperskye]

Three’s Company

This is just a lil blurb about Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan and you being in love! Based on the following Request: @satans-bitch Hi! Idk if you would be comfortable writing it, but I love the idea of Aaron hotchner x reader x Derek Morgan just all being so in love with each other. Thank u Xx – I took some creative liberties…I hope you like it!

Hotch x BAU! Fem Reader x Morgan

Word count: 883

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, poly-relationship (I’m not the most familiar with this lifestyle) canon typical violence, mantion of babies and pregnancy, Let me know if I missed any.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, neither Derek nor Aaron ever and I mean EVER thought they’d be in a polyamorous relationship. But let me tell you, when you arrived at the BAU, they both knew they had to have you. Aaron had gone to Dave time and time again seeking advice and Derek did the same with Penelope.

They’d both complain that there was no way you were interested, because clearly you like the other guy. Only, that wasn’t quite the issue.

You didn’t just like Aaron or Derek, you liked them both. They were so similar and yet so different and there was no way you could ever choose just one of them.

After many instances of the men fighting for your attention and affection, you pulled them both aside to have a serious conversation.

“I think I should leave the BAU.” You stated.

“What? No!” Derek blurted.

“Why would you think that?” Aaron inquired. “If our behavior has made you uncomfortable, I am so sorry. It was never my intention, and I would hate to see such a talented agent leave because of my idiocy.”

“It’s not your guy’s behavior that’s making me feel this way. It’s my feelings for you.” You said, gesturing to both men.

“Feelings for who?” Derek questioned.

“Both of you.” You blushed.

That evening you’d explained to the men that you had feelings for both of them and had the situation been different you’d have suggested a poly relationship, but you knew that it was too much to ask of two alpha males who’d never been in one before.

What you hadn’t expected to happen was for them to give you a quizzical look and then ask you to give them some time to think about it.

--

It had been nearly a year since then and the three of you had developed something truly beautiful. Aaron had been so stoic at work but at home he was soft, and he always did everything in his power to ensure you and Derek were both cared for.

And well Derek, he was clingy at home. Always wanting his hands on you and he’d come to really enjoy having physical contact with Aaron.

Like when you’d watch a movie, Aaron would have his arm slung over the back of the couch while you cuddled up into his side, and Derek would be sitting as close to you as possible, practically sitting you in his lap. This position would allow for Aaron’s hand to rest around Derek as well and that warmth became a comfort for him.

There had been another shift shortly after that, pet names…they’d been slipping out more frequently. And not just them men using them with you either.

“Sweetheart can you pass me my phone?” Aaron had asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Sure thing sugar.” Derek had replied.

You had been shocked initially, but it ultimately had warmed your heart to see them falling into this relationship more and more. Their comfort in this had been your main priority, you hadn’t cared about anything else.

--

Work had been the toughest part of this newfound dynamic. When any of you got hurt on a case, the other two couldn’t exactly hold it together. And with the team being out of the loop of your lifestyle, well they definitely suspected something.

The most recent had been Aaron, he had been shot while taking down an unsub. Thankfully it had been a flesh wound, but when you heard the shot and saw him go down, you couldn’t help the wail that tore through you. The paramedics had requested you step away, and Derek pulled you into his embrace to get you to comply.

“Baby he’s gonna be okay!” Derek said while holding you close.

“He was shot D! What if he’s not?” You cried.

“I know he’s gonna be okay baby. He has to be.” Derek mumbled the last part.

You looked up to see the tears falling from his misty eyes, and you held him tighter. The team sat by and watched the situation play out, fully convinced now that something was transpiring between the three of you. More than they had initially assumed.

--

The newest development had been the discussion of children. The guys had baby fever, they had seen you interacting with your sister’s newborn and you swear you saw them both drooling over the sight of you.

So…have you ever thought about having kids princess?” Derek posed.

Currently you were lying on the couch, your head in Derek’s lap and him pressed against Aaron. The movie playing, long forgotten as Derek combed his fingers through your hair and Aaron traced shapes on Derek’s bicep.

“Um, yes…I have thought about it. Why do you ask?” You sat up.

“Well, honey, we had a conversation about it the other day.” Aaron clarified.

“You two…had a conversation about me having a baby?” You questioned.

“About us…having a baby.” Derek said, gesturing to the three of you.

Your jaw dropped in shock. What had started as inappropriate flirting in the workplace had developed into a serious relationship between the three of you. One fueled by love, safety, and trust.

“I would love to have a baby with you guys.” You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

[heartthrobin]

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.  

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

-

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.  

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James  and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's  energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side,  "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."  

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

-

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

[starshinegarcia]

Into You - Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Season 4, Episode 9 “Pickup” - Reader is in place of Emily in the first scene, then she goes in alongside Emily later on (part 2) as bait, instead of Jordan.

Thank you so so much to @cerisereids for the prompt, and to @ilikw for bringing it to my attention!! I hope i did it justice!

“I’m so into you, I can barely breathe”

As you stepped into the sleazy bar, you suddenly became very hyper aware that you were the only female in a few-mile radius who wasn’t wearing a low cut something-or-another. You trailed close behind Morgan and Hotch, as you all made your way to the monologuing misogynist hidden away in the back corner of the bar. Viper’s voice carried through the air- saying something that, you’re sure would’ve made your blood boil, had you been paying any attention- his poisonous eyes landing on you and smirking. A shiver went down your spine as you subtly shifted your gaze over to Hotch, who was watching Viper intently- but his eyes softened when he glanced back at you. “Agent, you alright?” You nod, avoiding his gaze as Viper finishes talking- in fear of your cheeks flushing if you look directly into Hotch’s eyes again. You feel his gaze on you, until it shifts and you instead look up as Viper walks towards the three of you.

“So, what, you think this guy, this unsub took one of my classes?” “He copied your ‘the camera adds 10 pounds' routine verbatim.” Hotch replies. Viper smirks. “Yeah, that’s a good gag.” You bring your eyes up to meet him, speaking for the first time, “If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him.”

Viper toys with it for a minute, before a defiantly sassy “No.” “No?” You repeat. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” Hotch then continues to banter with him about warrants, then something about outwitting “alpha males like you” to Morgan before you speak up, “What club were you at last night?” Hotch’s jaw has been clenched slightly this whole time- he shouldn’t have had you come along on this particular questioning. With every passing second, he became less and less in control of his actions, as jealousy clouded his judgment. The way that that man was looking at you, all that he wanted to do was grab your waist and show that stupid snake man who you really belong to. But, no, you weren’t even his, regardless of how inappropriate that would be if you were. He grins, very obviously checking you out as his eyes travel up and down your body. “It’s a legitimate question.” Derek counters, watching his body language.” “Firstly, How many times do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy? Secondly-” He turns to Hotch, standing opposite you while Morgan follows him intently with his eyes. “Here, in this harsh light, you may have the advantage..” Viper suddenly takes a step towards you, inching his face so close you can smell the tobacco on his breath, “But meet me on my turf, and ohoho, the things I could make you do..”

A flame erupts inside you, wanting more than anything to cuss him out- but a tall figure is in front of you before you get the chance to respond. Hotch’s voice rang out, cold as he passed the man a business card. “Call us with any questions. And, if you do, I can be certain that if you talk to my agent like that again, it won’t end this peacefully.” You could hear the anger in Aaron’s voice, and you scoffed. As if you couldn’t fucking protect yourself. You feel Derek’s hand on your shoulder, indicating towards the exit. “You okay, blondie?” You shake your head, muttering under your breathe, “All he sees me as is a fucking child, I can protect myself.” Derek furrows his brows slightly, letting you walk to the SUV ahead as he lays back and walks in pace with Hotch. “How much longer are you going to pretend that you don't want to kiss her, boss man?” He winks at Hotch, before hopping in the passengers seat. Hotch’s hands clench the wheel as he drives. That stupid guy. The things that I could do to him, I’d make him regret ever letting his filthy face near her’s. She needs my protection, she hasn’t learned how to calmly react yet, that’s it, she’s new, that’s why I want to protect her. His eyes flick up and find yours in the backseat, as you sit there with your arms crossed, quickly shaking your head and looking out the window when you feel his eyes on you. Every fucking time. He never lets you stand up for yourself, never lets you fight back, half the time he finds an excuse to make you stay out of the unsub crime scenes. Who the fuck was he to defend you? His stupid, handsome face.. Morgan observes you both with a slight smirk, shooting a text to his baby girl that says something along the lines of “I think Blondie and Hotch may finally realize something’s up between them.”

“Been waiting, and waiting for you, to make a move”

As soon as the SUV pulls into the Georgia Field Office, Hotch gets out, with a curt “Agent. My office, now.” before slamming the car door behind him. You grumble and shoot an angry look in his direction, before following him into the Field office, and into his makeshift headquarters. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you start, “Do you not think I’m strong enough for this team, sir?” He sits down, folding his hands and watching you intently as you pace. “I do.” “Is there something weak about me? Do I not make it clear that I know how to deal with suspects and criminals?” “I do not see you as weak, and I certainly know your ability to argue-” You interrupt him, “Then what, sir, what is it? Every damn time, you just cut in front of me as if I’m your daughter or something, I mean, come on, I know I’m younger than you but I-” “That isn’t why I do it, you haven’t worked here long enough to get your footing yet, I’ve done it with Prentiss, Reid, when they first started-” “Then why do they look so surprised every time? It’s like I’m some special pearl, I can only ask questions but never actually interrogate or go catch unsubs-” You’re both yelling by now, and Hotch has stood up and made his way towards you, “Agent, I do not appreciate your tone with me right now.” “Well I don’t appreciate your- your- your weird, jealous, overprotective-” Your stop, chest heaving as he towers over you. You thought he would be angry, on the verge of dismissing you, but instead, his eyes have gone soft as he gazes down at you. Suddenly, you feel his lips on yours. You’re kissing your boss, and it feels so beautiful, so good, so right, as he wraps his arms around your waist and you bring yours around his neck. He pulls away, immediately trying to step back, sputtering apologies, but you grab his hands and kiss him again, with more passion than before. He gives in, for a moment, but pulls away firmly after a few more seconds, and as quickly as it had happened it was over. “Tha, uhm, that will be all, Agent. Thank you” Hotch says breathlessly, motioning towards the door as he resumes his seat at the paint-chipped desk.

Well, fuck.

“A little bit scandalous, but baby, don’t let them see it..”

Keep your eyes peeled for part 2…only if it’s wanted, that is ;) Also on AO3 under the same name!! i’m @/pumpkinspicedtheatre on there :)

[reidsc0nverse]

A Rose by Any Other Name (Chapter Two)

Summary: Reader accompanies Emily to a club during a case where Spencer shows her one of his many talents with the help of the one and only Derek Morgan.

Warnings: Language (not much at all)

AN: This is based on episode 4x9 (obviously) and basically goes along with the story. Also let's pretend Courtney (the bartender) wasn't the object of Spencer's attention for his magic trick. K thanks.

Series Masterlist

---------------------༺⚘༻---------------------

The other day when I walked through the doors of the BAU I was not expecting to be thrown into my job, but of course, it happened. 

I was in the technical analyst Penelope Garcia's office when all of a sudden JJ (as she now told me I can call her) went into labor. How wonderful.

I mean don't get me wrong I'm so happy for her, but I still had a good week of training that I could've used.

That was two weeks ago, so now I'm fully in my spot as Communications Liaison, and not to brag or anything.. I'm doing pretty well. 

Right now we've been working a case in Atlanta where a guy of the "Alpha Male" type would kill women that he would pick up from the local bars. The team came to the conclusion that he was getting his tips from a pick up artist that seems to be teaching his skills to other men. 

They call him "Viper" and, according to Emily, he's a real treat.

"He's a grade A asshole." she huffs walking into the room of the precinct I'm in. 

"That bad?" I ask and she slumps into the chair next to mine.

"He makes me wanna gauge my eyes out." She says, laughing, but clearly annoyed. So far while I've been on the team she and I have gotten pretty close and she's honestly one of my favorite people. 

"I'm so glad I wasn't there." I say, shaking my head. I've dealt with one too many narcissists on a personal level so if I had to listen to a guy go on for ages about how to play hard to get with a girl or blatantly insult them to get them attracted to him I'd probably lose my mind.

"Time to give the profile" Derek says as he sticks his head in the room. Emily sighs and walks out with me to the rest of the team. 

They go on giving out details to the local PD and I drone out until Spencer talks to me, or at me kind of. "I like those earrings, yeah my grandma has a lot of fake jewelry also." 

PARDON?

He smiles and waves it off as not serious, which I understood he was only exemplifying what our unsub does but it didn't diminish the fact that it was funny as hell. 

After the team finishes I get up and Spencer walks towards me, "Um, sorry about that. I just needed to show them what the unsub learned from Viper."

I laugh and wave him off, "No no don't apologize it's fine, it gave me a good laugh so I'm really not hurt by it."

He smiles and Hotch calls us over to where the rest of the team stands. 

They explain that we need to see about more of what the unsub may have learned back at the group discussions and they hint that Emily is gonna need to go back and talk to Viper.

"Oh. Oh god, this is really gonna suck." 

A little later, Emily comes to me after the team splits up with a cheeky look on her face and her hands behind her back.

"Y/NNNNN...." she drags.

"Oh god what do you want." I say playfully, already knowing what she's gonna say.

"You know, Derek is bringing Spencer as a wingman, so maybe you coulddd..."

"Fine fine, but if we're hitting the club I don't think my work attire is gonna cut it." I say, looking down at the blouse and black pair of pants I'm wearing. 

She shakes her head, "Ah, no worries, I have something you might fit in." She pulls out two dresses from behind her back and hands one to me.

"So you just happen to have party wear in your go bag?" I ask, looking at the black tight fit dress now in my hands.

"We go to some interesting places." She smirks and smacks my shoulder lightly, continuing, "Come on, I'll help you get ready." 

She takes my hand and we go to the PD locker room, getting changed and she gets her makeup out.

"I thought you hated this guy, now you're getting all dolled up." I tease her, she laughs and starts applying her eye makeup. 

"I take every opportunity I can get to look hot as shit with a job like this. Plus, we're still going to the club." She jokes back and after a couple minutes we're done getting ready and meet up with Derek and Spencer at the car.

"Heyy, looking good ladies." Derek says with a cocky smile and Spencer waves at me awkwardly. 

"How flattering." Emily says and then huffs, turning to me, "You better help me through dealing with this worm." 

"Of course" I say, hand on my heart and all.

Once we get to the club we decide to split up, Derek and Spencer asking girls in the club if they've seen anyone similar to our unsub, and Emily going up ahead of me while we face this nightmare of a man.

She tells me to stay back until the right time and I watch her play her game of flirting while continuing to intrigue the man. She looks back at me when he gets a little too confident and a little too close so I walk towards them, Viper's eyes following me carefully.

The conversation goes as usual, some mindless snarky remarks tossed around as he starts discussing eye contact, more specifically pupil dilation. 

"Okay fifteen seconds." Emily says in response to the eye contact that Viper has been making with me, and trying to prove a point.

"What do you see?" I ask.

"Nope, no dilation."

Viper comes quick with his response, "Ah, because you have someone else on the mind." 

Do I? Maybe. I don't know. No.

Emily eyes me teasingly and the conversation between us and Viper goes stale until he gives us just what we want for the case. He gives us that our unsub is going to go for his "queen bee," the focus on all his killing. 

Emily calls Hotch with our findings and I meet up with Derek and Spencer as they talk, or..bicker maybe.

"Come here pretty girl," Derek says to me, I comply, confused but still.

"Pretend she's someone you're showing the unsub to, use that magic." Derek says to Spencer, putting me in front of him, but he explains to me that apparently Spencer isn't having any luck giving the profile out to the girls at the club so now he's doing..magic?

I don't know how he's not having luck, he's an attractive guy. I would feel like girls would go crazy trying to talk to him but I guess not.

Spencer looks at me like he really doesn't wanna do this, but he goes with it anyway. "Don't worry I'll play along" I tell him and he seems comforted in that.

He begins by acting as though we've never met and asks me if I've seen the man in the drawing before, I nod no and he pulls out a pen.

"We have reason to believe he has a scar about right..here." He says, running the pen through the paper and moving it around, leaving no rips in the paper.

"Woah, woah. What? How did you do that?" I ask, inspecting the paper. 

He shrugs and smirks, "A magician never reveals his secrets." 

Derek laughs and pats his back, "That's what I'm talking about, pretty boy!" 

After the case ends smoothly we arrive at the BAU once again and settle everything down. I go to JJ's office which is mine temporarily and get some paperwork out of the way with Emily.

"So, don't mean to remind you of Viper, but, is there someone on your mind?" She asks teasingly.

"Oh god." I groan and put my face in my hands.

She snickers and responds, "Oh so there is!"

"Maybe." I say, dragging the word out. "But I don't know, he doesn't really know me that well."

She nods, I feel like she sees right through me.

"Seems like you and Spencer kind of had a good time earlier."

I choke on my own spit, "Um what?" I say, coughing. Covering my mouth as well as the slight pink coming onto my face.

She smiles and nods her head as a tall figure walks in the doorway. "Speak of the devil." She says and walks out, I look up and see Spencer, so now she's leaving me and him alone.

His eyebrows furrow, and I wave it off.

"Hello there, Houdini."  I say smiling up at him, he laughs and leans against the doorway.

"You know it's an easy trick, nothing up to Houdini's standard." 

I shrug. "Eh, still impressive." 

Things are quiet for a moment and there's a hint of tension in the air until he clears his throat and starts.

"You looked really nice today, by the way. Just thought I'd say." His face goes red and I smirk.

"You came all this well to compliment me?" I tease. He laughs sheepishly and shakes his head. 

"No, no. I was um, I was coming to ask you if maybe you wanted to grab a coffee or something. Maybe I could show you how I really do that trick?"

He was nervous, obviously. But that didn't help the grin on my face growing and trying to hold back the blush that's definitely growing on my face.

"I thought magicians couldn't tell anyone how they do their tricks." I reply, more calmly than I thought I would've, I mean I'm just trying to play it cool.

"I can make an exception. I'll let you know, I have your number right?"

I nod and he smiles again and sticks up an awkward thumbs up, "Cool. Well, I'll see you later." 

"Bye, Spencer" I say playfully and as we walks out to the hallway I peek out and see Derek standing by the doors that leave the office with a cheeky look. I can see the back of Spencer's head nod and Derek raise his arms, saying something but they're too far to hear. 

Guessing Derek convinced him to go for it. 

Good thing.

---------------------༺⚘༻---------------------

I'm gonna be real and say I kinda hate this chapter but I promise it gets good. ALSO TYSM ON THE SUPPORT FOR THE LAST PART IM SO GRATEFUL UGH.

taglist: @darkenwolfie @justlivinginadaydream @daddy-dotcom @itsametaphorbriansblog @rosesandlavendertea @4karaa

[johannestevans]

a thing i'm fascinated by too about the early dynamics in criminal minds is that like

elle greenaway is established immediately as a woman who, understandably, hates and distrusts men. she's very aware of misogyny in diff environments but most especially in the field of law enforcement

because like many cops she's driven by ego and a desire to repair societal faults with retaliative violence, she lashes out frequently at men and especially at the idea of males and masculinity - she struggles to reconcile the theories she's aware of intersectional oppressive effects on personality and emotional development with her, again, entirely understandable hatred and fear of men

she's actually quite similar in some ways to catherine cawood in happy valley - she has similar blinders on

but smth that i think is really interesting in her is that like... she's straight. she desires and is attracted to men, and the thing is, she actually demands quite a high level of masculinity in the men she desires - like derek morgan

derek morgan is a CSA survivor who was raised in an all-female household, and all these traits in combination with being a Black man meant that he was not just adultified sexually early on in life, but was also treated with an expectation of hypermasculinity from his childhood and early teens, let alone as a young man

like elle, he seeks out law enforcement because of his ego and his desire to dominate others - where elle's focus is specifically w an awareness of institutional misogyny, derek's focus is the more typical hero fantasy and a desire to protect the innocent and vulnerable in general

but also to him is about the performance of and presentation of a hypermasculine figure. he's an alpha male, he's muscular, he's tough, he's strong - he doesn't feel comfortable showing too much vulnerability or emotion, he needs to push a lot of that aside with jokes and blasé comments

he hates to be challenged on his expertise, bc to him like. a lot of the work he does is a dick-measuring contest, especially with other men, and he plays on some chivalric bullshit when he's working alongside women, which makes him feel more secure in his masculinity

and i just find it so interesting that like. it's established that elle has a lot of fear of men and not of derek, bc although he's chauvinistic and obsessed w his masculinity and with "picking up" women, it's not with a mind to sexual violence

but elle's dynamic when derek is making misogynistic comments to her - "show some leg" - is mostly indignant and a tiny bit playful, balancing her frustration at being objectified and dehumanised w her attraction to him

when she's observing him w others, like esp thinking of how derek bullies reid early on w stuff like hanging a rape whistle around his neck, you can see she's way more uncomfortable, and i just like

haaaaa. i just love how this show presents such complex, flawed, layered, and multifaceted characters that carry a lot of contradictions within them, that you can see them struggling with it and struggling with each other and their choice to work in a position that ultimately like. does evil lol

[hotchfiles]

The thing about hotch and Morgan is that they’re both alpha males but Hotch is an alpha male in a way that is much less cloying and obvious than Morgan. Does that make sense?? Like Morgan is so typically the kind of dude to have a lion tattoo and to flirt outrageously with women and to casually call servers/ baristas “sweetheart/ honey” and really there’s nothing wrong with that but with Aaron the subtlety of it is really so much more intoxicating - in *my* opinon.

this reminds me of a conversation i has with my bestie years ago

she was always telling me i had luck with men, that my tinder matches were always fun nice guys and hers were always capital A Assholes

so i told her babes it’s not me, it’s your type of men

she alwayssssss only matched with extremely obvious “alpha males”, ripped stomach, shirtless pictures, cringe tattoos, gym as a personality trait

luckily derek is not that bad, he is just the right amount of gym bro, but i still wouldn’t go for him because that’s not my type of man lol

[absolutelynotromealone]

Been neglecting this blog

X

It was no denying that the reid siblings were hardworking and a little stubborn to say the least, slight workaholics and chaotic energy was always consistent.

"Baby you're a month and a half from your due date, go home" Derek said to his husband who was sitting on a plush chair that most definitely wasn't stolen from a certain hotch who wasn't about to argue with the pregnant omega.

"I have stuff to do"

"We can all survive without you (name)" Prentiss said as she passed the couple "but--"

"Go home Omega" Derek's voice dropped a few octaves as (name) let out a frustrated whine, not wanting to go home "think of the pups health Omega, you need to go and relax... If you behave we can get (food)"

The BAU watched them leave as Morgan's hand rested on his back "stop pouting Omega, let me care for you" Morgan chastised softly as they got into the car, Morgan making sure his mate was secure before driving off.

Derek always kept a hand on (name)s leg, soothing and relaxing as he pumped out calming pharamones to calm his grumbly mate.

(Name) wouldn't admit it but he was dead tired when they stepped through the door, letting his alpha kiss him sweetly before snuggling into their bed and totally not cuddling one of his alphas sweaters as he drifted into Dreamland.

It was six am when he woke up to slick between his legs and was overheating like crazy "alpha..." He mumbled petting to his mates side to find it empty.

This won't do at all.

(Name) shakily wandered the house and let out a sad whine when he couldn't find his alpha before wandering back to their room and stared at his charged cellphone, smiling at the fact his alpha charged it for him.

(Name) contemplated calling his alpha, a war going on in his head because on the one hand he needs alpha on the other hand he could be busy.

His Omega practically demanded he call his alpha, with fumbling hands he carefully hit call on his mates contact.

Ring

Ring

Ri--

"Baby? What's going on?" Morgans smooth voice rang out and (name) all but keeled over at the sound "alpha..." (Name) said weakly "what's going on?" Morgan said concerned "h-heat...." (Name) said softly into the phones mic and could hear his mate chuckle fondly "home alphaaa~ please!" (Name) begged helplessly and Morgan made a soft crooning noice into the phone "I will be home soon sweetness"

When Derek got home, he had easy foods and followed the smell of heat to see his pregnant mate in his nest "good boy waiting for his apha" Derek said kneeling infront of the nest and grinning when (name) pulled him in, piling kisses into the omegas face "alphas here now"

The two snuggled and scented, (name)s Omega already pregnant so there wasn't a need to get pregnant so he just demanded his alphas attention.

Derek massaged (name)s feet and chest, knowing the Omega was struggling with dysphoria and an aching chest, unable to wear a binder this far along.

"my strong little Omega, such a handsome man"

The purring from (name) pushed Derek to spend the day praising his Omega, the two happy with each other's company

[breakthcnight]

BREAKTHCNIGHT. lyrics from f&tm's howl.

penned by kelly. 40+. she/her. eastern timezone.

PREVIOUSLY stcllata. venusiiian, oxtaiiiled, tawruhs.

****

RULES. honestly, don't be a dick. common etiquette. anons are off. chemistry is key.

WORK SCHEDULE. sundays [ 2:00 pm through 7:00 pm ], mondays and tuesdays [ 8:30 am through 3:30 pm ] wednesdays and thursdays [ 8:30 am through 3:00 pm ].*

*AS OF 08/21/24 THROUGH 12/12/24. DROPPING TO LOW ACTIVITY DUE TO WORK. december date is approximate.

****

muse list is under the read more.

IMPORTANT CONNOTATION. there are characters here that are either smuse list is under the read more.ired by a canon, or are the offspring of canons, if you happen to play one (or both), i will not now, nor will i ever assume you'll accept them.

UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED. PLEASE ASSUME SOME LEVEL OF CANON DIVERGENCE.

----CANONS.

ARKHAM GAMES.

TALIA AL GHUL.

ARROWVERSE.

RAYMOND PALMER. the atom.

DESCENDANTS.

GILBERT LEGUME. son of gaston.

RED. daughter of the queen of hearts.

UMA. daughter of calypso.

DETECTIVE COMICS.

BARTHOLOMEW ALLEN. impulse.

CASSANDRA SANDSMARK. wonder girl ii. sydney sweeney.

KORIAND'R. kory anders. starfire.

ZATANNA ZATARA.

GREEK MYTHOLOGY.

ARES. god of war and courage.

PASIPHAË. queen of crete; mother of the minotaur.

PERSEPHONE. queen of the underworld; accompanied by cerberus. sophie turner.

MARVEL COMICS.

CLINT BARTON. hawkeye. stephen amell.

STEVEN ROGERS. captain america. william levy.

POWERPUFF GIRLS.

BUBBLES UTONIUM. kiernan shipka.

BUTCH. froy gutierrez.

ROMAN MYTHOLOGY.

VENUS. goddess of love, beauty, fertility, victory, and desire.

SMALLVILLE.

CLARK KENT. superman.

LOIS LANE. bryce dallas howard.

OLIVER QUEEN. green arrow. derek theler.

SUPERNATURAL.

SAMANTHA 'SAMMI' WINCHESTER. rule!63 sam winchester. phoebe tonkin. no demon blood. still has telekinesis and visions.

WILLIAM HARVELLE. christopher eccleston.

TEEN WOLF.

CLAUDIA STILINSKI. holly marie combs.

HEATHER. britt robertson.

SCOTT MCCALL. bitten by derek; not peter.

THE ORIGINALS.

ELIJAH MIKAELSON.

GIA.

HENRIK MIKAELSON. nicholas galitzine.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES.

TATIA PETROVA. poppy drayton.

----ORIGINALS.

ALAYNA ROSTAGNO. lindsey morgan.

summary: human. hunter. mid 30s. she's quite combative, prefers using her hands though she's got quite the arsenal tucked away. fiery, assertive, passionate. you don't want to get on her bad side. pansexual.

BAZYLI 'BAZ' JACENTY STILINSKI. dylan o'brien (as dave hodgman).

summary: human. blind stilinski twin. younger by 10 minutes. quiet, sometimes withdrawn. likes to be as independent as possible. consistently believes he's the burden because of his blindness. turning him will not relieve this. pansexual.

CADEN HOLMWOOD. matt czuchry.

summary: human. graveyard shift nurse technician. he's a very logically minded person, intuitive, very hard working. also quite generous. given his career, there isn't much he hasn't come across. looks to be about his late 40s. bisexual.

GABRIEL KINGSTON. regé-jean page.

summary: warlock. born in the 1840s, looks to be in his mid 30s. fluent in both french and italian. very much the lover more than the fighter type. a gentleman through and through. he is a lover of arts, particularly paintings and sculpture. bisexual.

GIOVANNA CRESCENTI. emilia clarke.

summary: human. heiress. daughter of the head of the crescenti crime family. late 30s. stands to inherit billions when her father passes. lives her life independently of her father, logical and unafraid, smooth and sensual. she will make you regret disrespecting her. homosexual.

JEBEDIAH CAMPBELL. henry cavill.

summary: born in 1948. mary winchester's older brother ( six years older ). uncle to dean and sam. demon hunter. nomad, almost reclusive. lives in the cheyenne mountains. definitely a gruff type, shoot first and ask questions later. heterosexual.

KELLY SAVARESE. floriana lima.

summary: alpha werewolf. hunter. big sister. packless. early 40s, but can be traced back farther ( some records indicate to the 1900s ). prefers not to instigate, would rather be civil. however, she will fight as a last resort. protective and nurturing. pansexual.

MARIUS KAHR. nikolaj coster-waldau.

summary: alpha werewolf. looks to be in his late 50s, is actually much older than that. has been wandering around the world for centuries and he's just tired of most of life. has a lot of thick layers to penetrate. bitter. and a biter.

MILES KYUNG. felix yongbok lee.

summary: human. chauffeur. getaway driver. mid 20s. a very quiet and polite young man, who focuses on the task at hand rather than the dangers. he will do mostly anything without question, unflinchingly loyal. though that could prove detrimental in the end. pansexual.

MINA LEE. chloe bennet.

VIKRAM DEVI. rahul kohli.

summary: human. slayer. early 30s. she's been active for about ten years, having died twice already. she's sassy and isn't afraid of anything. she's got a bit of a soft spot for vampires, but crossing her isn't wise. she'll easily wipe the floor with you. bisexual.

SILAS WILD. bill kaulitz.

summary: mage; loosely based on cult of ecstasy. he's such a gentle and sweet guy, who doesn't sleep a whole lot due to his abilities. in his late 30s, trying to not just let the anguish consume him. give him a place to rest and a good cuddle, he'll be a friend for life. pansexual.

WILLA HARVELLE. dominique provost-chalkley.

summary: daughter of jo harvelle and dean winchester. demon hunter. named for her maternal grandfather. on the road, out there to have fun. one day at a time. very much the love them and leave them type. rebellious to the core. mid 20s. homosexual.

[findroleplay]

[c]

hello! I’m looking for some fandom roleplays. Currently I am looking to do OCxCC for these fandoms! I am more than open to doing double ups, I prefer doing them anyways since it keeps both sides fair. (I just ask that we both write an equal amount for both sides, not one more than the other.)

[c]

Here's some more details:

Literacy: Literate-Advanced Literate (I LOVE details 🫶)

Rules: I have my rules pinned on my profile, please read it all before interacting with this!

[c]

[c]

Fandom(s): Criminal Minds (it's been a while since I've seen the whole show so rn I'm rewatching it and on season 4), DCEU, The Boys (on season 3), The Walking Dead (on season 9)

[c]

[c]

Character(s): I can play any characters for you and your side! I'm also apart of other fandoms that I don't have listed above. If you'd prefer another fandom for your side just ask and maybe I know it well enough to rp! And here are characters I'm looking for my oc from the fandoms listed above:

Criminal Minds- Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner

DCEU- Bale!Batman/Bruce Wayne, Pattison!Batman/Bruce Wayne, John Constantine, Morpheus (The Sandman, mainly the show), The Corinthian (same as Morpheus)

The Boys- Billy Butcher, Queen Maeve, MM, Black Noir, Homelander, Soldier Boy

The Walking Dead- Daryl Dixon🫶, Abraham Ford, Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes, Ezekiel Sutton, Gabriel Stokes

COD: Modern Warfare II- Alejandro Vargas, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, John Price, Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

[c]

Triggers: I personally have no triggers

[c]

[c]

Plot ideas: Depending on which fandom I will most likely follow the canon storyline for each one BUT there could be exceptions. I'm also open to doing AUs alongside the storylines/adding our own changes and touches throughout ofc <3! I'm open to any plots you may have for your side. Ofc Omegaverse will be alongside the plot(s). I will likely play my ocs as an omega and whichever fandom with whoever you’re comfortable playing as an Alpha. I’m more than happy to do the same for your side or any other Secondary Gender pairing is cool with me too!

[c]

Where: I'm cool with staying on Tumblr but I wouldn’t mind moving over to Discord

[c]

[c]

If you're interested then feel free to message me or comment!

-

[violenthunted]

034, on kiss cam at a sports game. @idi0tproverbs

see, that's why she doesn't do sport games. between the wailing, the sweating, the spilled beer & various other niceties she isn't willing to put a name to? yeah. there's not much to enjoy. perhaps it's her fault for not getting into the spirit, but she simply does not get it. even intellectually : why would you dress up in a horrid little outfit that doesn't fit nor is remotely weather appropriate (it's too goddamn hot for cotton), in order to support grown-up men running furiously after a ball? she isn't against supporting gay rights (see that? it's a small bisexual brooch, thank you very much), mind you, but she didn't imagine that a date with the famous, sexy chocolate thunder would be so … well. manly, she supposes. okay, fine, she knows derek fits the straight dude bro profile most of the time. okay! she still expected something different. something a little bit less crowded. something a little bit less alpha male takes his trophee of the night on a date he would have gone alone to anyway.

she still tries though. she does! look at her clapping when everyone does, and yes maybe she spends most of the actual match watching the smile on derek's face, but whatever. do not let it be said that penelope garcia is not supportive! she is. she screams when something important happens (whatever that might be. she takes her clues from the lady sitting two rows from them). she even has the foam finger thingy and she waves it every five minutes, mumbling something that she isn't sure is a word, because she might or might have not forgotten the team's name before even eventering the stadium. sue her! try enjoying a football match in that weather while wearing heels. you'll see how it feels.

needless to say that it takes her a few seconds to register why everyone is suddenly going bananas around them.

she turns her head toward morgan, however her best friend is already looking at her, as if … waiting, expectantly. yeah, she isn't going to tell him she has no idea what's going on because she was too focused on complaining silently. she doesn't want to crush his dreams, and she certainly doesn't want to ruin this … date, rendez-vous, whatever you want to call it. whether it's romantic or just kinky is not yet decided (that too, she did not find the courage to ask). she's a big girl. she'll figure it out: ever the profiling trainee, she searches for clues. the giant screen with a heart & gifs of rather kitsch kissing red lips are as good as any. glasses are pushed back over her nose in a nervous habit, just to make sure she isn't dreaming.

so first derek takes her to a game of sweaty men and then, he expects her to? what?

"KISS HIM!!!!!!" comes the scream from the stale-beer-old-sweat-smelling man on her right. thank you very much, disgusting guy. she even says as much, under her breath, before turning toward morgan, who is now full on grinning. yeah, he's enjoying it alright. it's enough to have her smiling back. how absurdly difficult not to fold when he looks so beautiful.

well, if they want a show, she'll make a good one. she usually prefers to be behind the screens rather than on them, but it's for a good cause (swiping that grin off his face. with her lips. yes. don't question the method), well, she's willing to do it.

both of her hands hold his face steady. with her game-on face (which is quite similar to the one she usually plasters at the end of their meetings, when she has finally gotten her hands on the one piece of information they needed to crack the code of who did what when and why), she leans forward, just enough to watch his pupils dilate. if she's afraid of being on stage, it's easy to forget with him so close. he's the only one not smelling completely rotten. sure, there's a bit of sweat, but it's good, like he worked out a little too much and he's about to jump in the shower, excepthe's a gentleman, yes, so he'll invite you in to save water. or something like that. anyway. enough thinking of wet, gloriously naked derek morgan, asking her to "come in the shower, mamma". back to reality : he's tall, but he follows her hands easily, leaning forward just enough that she can kiss him square on the lips. there's immediately a bit of tongue. some lip biting. definitely his name spoken against his mouth in a hot murmur.

after all, she might not have come for the game, but she did come for him (and she'd be willing to really come, if he was so inclined), and it's important to remind him of that so that he doesn't loose sight of the actual, very important endgame. which is her. obviously.

[neondomino]

wanting you the way I do - chapter three - read it here

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

Additional tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Spencer Reid, Alpha Aaron Hotchner, Roommates, Protective Derek Morgan, Friends to Lovers

Summary: And they were roommates...

When Hotch's apartment becomes uninhabitable, he has to find somewhere to stay. Thankfully, Spencer Reid has a spare room in his apartment that he's more than happy to allow Aaron to stay in. But living in close proximity and getting to know each other more personally means the two men have to face up to the feelings for each other that they've been ignoring for a long time.

Omegaverse