#aaron hotchner x derek morgan x spencer reid

[jemilygifs]

CRIMINAL MINDS 5x16 "Mosely Lane"

[freelancelobotomy]

gravity [s.r.]

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: Whilst on a special undercover assignment from the leader of the vigilante organization that you're apart of to kidnap a thief, you get distracted by an old "friend" from the FBI Training Academy.

content warnings: fluff, angst, guns, mentions of sex, reader is mean but its okay bc Spencer was meaner, death, almost kiss

a/n: hiii !! I wrote this for imaginin-in-the-margin's "Undercover Challenge." this is my first fic so pls be nice if its not the best lmfaofao.

When you spot Spencer across the bar, you freeze. The persona you put on for your job—the persona you’ve adopted to compartmentalize—ceases to exist when his eyes lock onto you and widen with recognition.

Ironically, that look of recognition is something you recognize. He’s had that same brightness in his eyes since the day you met him at the academy. It’s glassy and almost iridescent, just like the giant gaudy Chandelier hanging above the dance floor in front of the stage. He had that same look when he noticed the copy of The Valley of Fear by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on your nightstand the first time you played poker together in your dormitory, when you told him about how struggled with making friends in high school just like he did, and when Jason Gideon first walked into the training facility and handpicked him for the BAU—your dream job—instead of you.

You overheard your sergeant talking about getting some heat from the FBI, but you never thought to ask her about it later—doing so would feel like admitting to yourself that you’re not over the whole thing after three years. Not over him after three years.

Immediately, you think you’re being set up by the committee. The BAU has them cornered, and they sent you on this mission, painting you as the lone perpetrator. The team sent Spencer in to throw you off by using emotional manipulation. Then Spencer smiles at you and gets up from his seat at the bar. He’s genuinely surprised to see you.

“Y/N!” he says, his tone lilting and disarming. It must be a coincidence. He immediately just blew your cover. Wonderful.

“Spencer. Hi.” You wave at him, knowing his disdain for handshaking or overall contact with strangers, but then he wraps you in his arms. For a bit too long. He takes a deep breath and—is he… smelling you?

You exhale shakily, patting him on the back before he pulls away.

“You look…beautiful.” He says.

“Yea? Thanks,” You say curtly. He’s not wrong. You’re wearing a tight low cut back out dress that nicely accentuates your figure. You have to look good during every mission. It’s part of the job.

“It’s been too long,” he says, his eyes searching your face. “How have you been?”

You hesitate to meet his gaze, swallowing hard. “I’ve been good. How are you doing?” you manage to say, forcing a polite smile.

He stares at you for a beat before answering. “I’ve missed you.”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the door. Fuck this mission. You need to get out of here. You were planning on bailing anyway. Shoot a bullet into the air and say the guy was crazy and had a gun so you fled the scene. Sergeant can give this lame ass assignment to some rookie. The guy didn’t even really do anything.

“Y/N?” He gently grabs your arm, pulling you back toward him. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just being honest. I’ll lie if you want me to.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, turning back to him.

“I want you to be honest with me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve thought about making things right with you ever since I threw away my life the day I accepted that position at the BAU.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I was. I wasn’t ready for you. I’m sorry.”

This is absolutely not the night you expected.

You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I was dense, and self-preserving, and ignorant—I… I didn’t know a good thing when I had it. The only good thing to ever happen to me—I—the universe was foolish enough to give me you, and I lost it. I lost you, and I’m sorry.”

Spencer and you had become best friends during your time at the Quantico FBI Academy when you were both twenty–two. You two had hit it off immediately, both being from Las Vegas, geeky introverts, and overly ambitious. Once you got romantically involved two weeks before the program ended and you were sent back to your home state, Spencer, whose previous goal was to stay in Virginia, promised to move back to Las Vegas so he could live close to you and his mom. Then…Jason Gideon approached him with the offer to become a Supervisory Special Agent at the BAU in Quantico. He told Jason that he would think about it, you slept with him for the first time that night—the first time that you’d ever slept with anybody–because you thought it would make him choose you. It didn’t.

“Are you drunk?” you laugh.

“No.” He takes a step closer to you and lets go of your hand. “You don’t have to take me back, but please—Y/N. I miss you so much.”

What does he want from you then? Friendship? Neither of you have the heart for that. He has to be lying. “Give me some time to think about it.” You grin.

“As much as you need. Here—my phone number—” He pulls out a notepad and pen from his pants pocket.

“That won’t be necessary.” You lightly shove them back toward him before taking a seat at the bar again and patting the stool next to you. He rushes over and sits down.

“Eager beaver, are you?” you ask, your tone amused.

“I see you haven’t changed much.”

“That’s not a no.”

“‘Not a no’ to what?”

“That’s not a no to my question. Are you an eager beaver?” You’re just messing with the poor guy at this point—seeing how far you can push him.

“I’m enthusiastic since I’m thrilled to see you again after three years. I wouldn’t say I’m an ‘eager beaver.’”

“I’ve texted you a few times over the years,” he adds. “I lost your number after my phone got soaked during a, uh…”

“A case?” You shake your head playfully. “It’s been five minutes, and you’ve already mentioned the BAU three times. Way to rub it in, Agent Reid.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I’m kidding. No, I’m not. Are you still sabotaging yourself?”

“I’m trying not to currently,” he says.

You hum in response.

“I don’t know why Jason chose me over you.”

“I mean, you chose Jason over me. I think I know why—other than your IQ. I thought you guys kind of had some daddy-son issues you solved with each other symbiotically.”

“He left the BAU. Cut contact with everyone, including me. Left only a note, addressed to me.”

“Ouch. Just like your dad?”

He laughs humorlessly. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You reach out and touch his face, running the digits of your fingers against the grain of his stubble. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes momentarily.

“You don’t shave anymore?”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks. This case I’m working on…”

“Is that why you’re back in Vegas? You’re surely not here to visit your mother, are you?”

A little mean of you, but whatever.

“Uh, no. I’m not.”

“You haven’t been seeing anyone recently. And you’re in the process of getting sober from… something. Not weed—I would’ve smelled it on you. Opioids?” You pretend to be deep in thought. “Maybe coke. I can picture that for you. You, lining up snow with your Mensa card and snorting it with the rolled-up note from Gideon, thinking it makes you distinguished.”

“You were always a better profiler than me.”

“Tell that to Jason. Oh… wait.” You feign an apologetic tone, reaching out to place your hand atop his. He shakes his head, fighting a smile.

“Okay, that was a little mean. I’m sorry.” You pause, pulling your hand back. He just smiles at you, with that shimmer of recognition in his eye.

“What I said the day that I left…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “That if it had been you he picked for the BAU, you would’ve done the same thing—" He shakes his head. "It wasn't true. It was a cruel thing for me to say. To you of all people. You wouldn’t have, and I knew that. You were so kind, and funny, and pretty, and so fucking smart, and you liked my weird hair, and I could make you smile—” He looks at you and realizes he’s rambling. He takes a deep breath and leans toward you, putting his hand atop yours. You don’t pull away.

“I thought running away from you meant running away from you hurting me. I felt like there was no way whatever we had could end without me being utterly destroyed, so I left like a coward.”

“You swear now? Since when?” you ask.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small cylindrical bottle of aspirin.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks.

“A phallic symbol?” you quip.

“No,” he chuckles. “The bottle of aspirin you gave me the first day at the academy. I take it with me everywhere. When I first held a gun, it was so heavy it threw me off balance. Sent me hurling towards the floor. A couple of hours later, in the cafeteria, you saw me shielding my eyes from the fluorescent lights. I had a migraine from hitting my head and you handed me the bottle before sitting across from me.”

“And we ate in complete silence,” you laugh.

“But It wasn’t silence. To me, it was gravity.”

“Gravity?” you ask, raising a brow.

“The same gravity that pulled me toward the ground pulled me toward you. And it’s been pulling me toward you ever since—at a torturous, exponential rate.”

You lean towards him and whisper to him, “You are so corny.”

“How I felt back then hasn't changed. I don't think it ever will," He says.

You shake your head, laughing.

A piano chord plays, and both of your heads snap in that direction.

“Hello, goodnight, and good evening, everybody! I’m Al Zimmerman.” The eccentric jazz singer’s voice crackles through the air of the bar. “Tonight, I have my brother from way back here performing with us. But I’d like you to welcome Raymond Rolton on the horn, Samuel Quincy on the drums, Jerry Parcher on the bass, Craig Wilde on the sax, and a special guest—close friend of mine—on the piano.”

The pianist plays a quick trill, earning cheers from the crowd.

“The spectacular Ethan Jones, all the way from the jazz capital of the world—New Orleans, everybody!” The crowd erupts into applause.

“Ethan,” he says, almost to himself. “That’s why I’m here. My friend Ethan invited me to see him play since he knew I was in town, and we wrapped the case early. The team is still here, handling paperwork. Hotch said it was okay for me to—”

“Ethan?” You interrupt, your eyebrows shooting up. “As in Ethan Jones?”

That’s your target’s name.

“Yeah. I went to CalTech with him. We were… close. He dropped out of the academy on the first day. I had no idea you guys knew each other.”

You stand up slowly. “We don’t.”

Great. You are connected in some way. Now you definitely can’t seduce him into capture without the police making a connection. This is going to get you some heat from the Committee.

The Committee always has a reason for taking someone out. The process is simple: you take the target to a private location, torture them for information on what they’ve done (more often than not—rape, murder, or both), harvest their organs to sell to the highest bidder on the dark web, then dump what’s left of their body at a precinct with a note attached, detailing their crimes—including where the victims are buried and who else they’ve abused.

According to Saesha, the Committee’s Sergeant, Ethan had borrowed a lot of money from her way back when, and it’s about time he paid up. But she’s had trouble tracking him down herself. Your job within the Committee is simple: you’re the bait. Luring the sick puppies into a van, truck, or whatever vehicle Saesha assigns, then transporting them to the secondary location. Saesha even calls you Legs. Says they’re your best asset.

It gets you respect from the Committee. And a lot of cash.

She said they’re not going to kill him. Just— in her words—“put the fear of God into him to get her cheddar back.”

You need to get a closer look at this guy.

You hold out your hand to Spencer.

“You wanna dance?”

He looks over his shoulder. “Me?”

“No, the bartender.” You roll your eyes sarcastically. Jesus, he really is dense. “Yes, you, Spencer.”

“I don’t know how,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“It’s easy, c’mon.”

Spencer takes your hand, and you lead him to the dance floor, where the other couples sway to the melody of My Funny Valentine. The singer is really good.

His right arm wraps around your waist, and he holds your hand with his left. The two of you move together, slow and deliberate. His heartbeat is racing against your chest.

“I was not expecting this night to go like this. At all,” he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. He pulls you closer.

“I thought the exact same thing as soon as I saw you.”

You glance at the stage. That’s definitely the guy.

“You’re wearing the perfume I got you for your birthday the week before I left,” he says suddenly. “Empressa, from Penhaligon’s.”

“It’s not the same one,” you reply, your eyes narrowing at Ethan. How did you get yourself into this mess? “I re-bought it.”

He nods.

“Do you still talk to Francesca?” he asks. She was your roommate back at the Academy.

“You mean Frannie?” Your head turns toward him. Your faces are about an inch apart now.

He hums in response, his gaze briefly flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. We, um… we got brunch last weekend, actually,” you rasp. The heightened tension between you two makes your stomach flip. “I like what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thanks. I got tired of buying hair gel,” he chuckles.

“That’s a shame.”

“I can get… untired of buying hair gel if you want me to.”

“That’s quite all right,” you giggle. “I like the man bob.”

“Man bob?” He laughs.

You nod.

“Oh—here.” You let go of Spencer’s hand and push a stray strand of hair from his face.

He smiles at you, that smile—the one that was always reserved just for you.

Both of his arms find your waist. His large hands settle against your lower back.

You missed him. So much.

“What?” he asks, his eyes searching your face. He’s trying to figure you out. He’s profiling you right now.

“Nothing. I just…” You exhale, mustering up the courage to look at him. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” His gaze drops to your lips.

You really can’t tell if this is a good idea. You were always better at reading other people than understanding yourself. But your eyes flutter closed as you lean in for a kiss—

BANG.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Screams. People running.

Spencer grabs your arm, ready to bolt, but his eyes widen when he sees Ethan bleeding out on the stage.

He rushes toward him.

Your head snaps around the room, searching for the shooter.

Your peripheral vision catches Saesha, gun still trained—right at stupid fucking Spencer, who’s kneeling beside his friend, packing the bullet wound with a hankerchief.

Your hand flies to your thigh holster.

Ethan didn’t do anything.

This is personal.

She’s blowing the whole operation.

You could flee. Get the hell out of here. Live with the guilt that you ran off like a coward as your Sergeant swiss cheesed Spencer.

Or—you could stop this.

The bar is nearly empty now. Just you, Spencer, Ethan… and her.

No choice.

Shit.

You cock your gun. “Sergeant.”

She turns around, a grin creeping onto her face. “Legs. You going soft on me?”

“Drop the gun. I’ll shoot you.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I interrupted your heavy petting with Hillary Swank over there,” Saesha says, motioning toward Spencer, her gun still raised, “but I need to take care of this. Of us.”

“You blew our cover. What did he do that was so bad that you’re sacrificing our freedom for? Hm? We had an agreement. No innocents get hurt—"

“And that agreement still stands," Saesha interrupts. "But in order to keep money in all of our pockets, we have to fix the past to secure our present. I trusted you for this job, Y/N. He took two hundred thousand dollars. From the Committee. From us.”

“I don’t understand,” you say.

She smirks. “Do you really think you’re the only failed FBI cadet we poached, Legs?”

Your stomach drops.

“He was your partner?”

“Something like that.”

“Saesha…” Ethan coughs weakly.

Spencer shushes him, telling him not to waste his breath.

“He probably spent it all already,” you say. “Why are you trying to kill him?”

“It’s personal.”

Saesha turns back toward you—

And in that split second, Spencer reaches for his pant leg, pulls a gun, and fires—

BANG.

The chain holding the massive chandelier snaps.

It comes crashing down, crushing Saesha beneath it.

A deafening silence follows.

Then—

BANG.

Somewhere in the bar, a door is kicked open.

“Reid!” A booming voice calls.

Spencer turns to you.

“Go.” he whispers.

You don’t hesitate.

Without another word, you run—out the back door, gun in hand.

The gravity of it all crashing down on you.

[minswriting]

Speaking of periods I'm getting mine 😭

Coukd we get some period comfort with Hotch, Spencer, derek and rossi pleasee

i don’t really write for rossi because i don’t see him in a romantic way so this is honestly just platonic vibes.

aaron: aaron would be the type to buy you everything you needed/wanted with no issues. he’d get you pads (or tampons) and ensure they’re the right size. and he’d buy you snacks. i also think he would hold you close, rubbing circles on the area that’s cramping (as some people get cramps in their lower back or cramps in their lower stomach). ultimately, he’d just be so soft with you.

rossi: this honestly is a hard one. he’d probably buy you exactly what you need or want but that’s mostly the extent to what he does. he’s not one for comforting other than telling a few jokes. but he would make you an epic pasta dish in hopes you’d feel better.

derek: derek would be the type to go to the store and then immediately call you all confused and such because he doesn’t know what size you need. he’d send you all the options until you choose the one you wanted and then he’d ask you what snacks you wanted.

spencer: spencer, our shayla, our perfect man. he would 100% buy everything you need plus what he knows will certainly help. he’s buying all the medicines, making sure you have a heating pad of some sorts, buying the right pads and tampons without having to ask, and he already knows what snacks and treats to get you. and when he’s home, he’s holding you, running his fingers through your hair and watching movies with you fr.

luke: luke means well, he really does. but i honestly think that when he’s at the store, he will text you like “what size pussy do you have?”. regardless, he buys the right things and some treats for you. and he’d come home with a bouquet of your favorite flowers because he knows they bring you joy. he’d cook you food, hold you close, and try his hardest to make you laugh because laughter is the best medicine.

[kendracii]

“the ringer - spencer reid!” 🌀

who? spencer reid x sales!reader

w/c: 874

content warning: none? mention of hitwoman?

a/n: this was a better idea in my head i fear..

Spencer stood in the upscale jewelry store, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater vest. 

The warm lighting reflected off the pristine glass displays, highlighting rows of shimmering rings, bracelets, and necklaces. He had been in plenty of high-pressure situations before—negotiating with criminals, decoding cryptic messages, analyzing behavioral patterns—but somehow, standing here, being scrutinized by a jewelry store clerk, had him completely out of his element.

“Hello, I’ll be your all-knowing jewelry guide for today! Anything in mind for the kind of ring you’re looking for?” The woman behind the counter had a bright enthusiasm that contrasted his hesitation. 

She gently brushed her finger against the glass display, waiting for his response.

Spencer hesitated, his fingers drifting to his chin. “Uh… just any size 13 band under $5,000?” He leaned in slightly, as if he were revealing a classified secret.

The woman quirked a brow. “No preferences? Like metal color? Gold, silver? If you show me a picture of an actual engagement ring, I could find one with a similar vibe.” She tilted her head, observing his slightly awkward stance. His hand repeatedly reached up to push back his long hair, and the light stubble on his face seemed to irritate him—he scratched at it absentmindedly every few moments.

“Oh, there’s no, uh… actual engagement ring.” His voice carried an unmistakable nervous edge. Every time his gaze met hers, it darted away, shifting between his watch and the hem of his sleeve.

She leaned her elbows on the glass, intrigued. 

“Okay, then… do you have a general theme for the wedding I can go off?”

“There is no wedding.”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Oh. So no wife?”

“No, no,” he quickly clarified, shaking his head. “I just need it for work.”

The woman chuckled softly. “Work, huh? What are you, some kind of secret agent?”

Spencer exhaled, as if debating whether to answer. “Yeah, kinda. FBI. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Sorry, I never introduced myself.”

She tapped her name tag. “You must be—”

“Yup,” she interjected playfully.

“Well, lucky for you, we only carry size 13 bands in silver. You can try this one on?” 

She opened the case and slid a sleek silver band onto the counter. It was simple yet elegant.

Spencer picked it up, rolling it between his fingers before slipping it onto his hand. It fit snugly.

“Perfect fit,” she remarked. “So… FBI, huh? What’s a guy like you need a ring for?”

Spencer hesitated. “Undercover work.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Interesting. I’d ask more, but I get the feeling you’d just tell me it’s classified.”

A ghost of a smile played on Spencer’s lips. “You’d be right.”

She leaned on the counter again, watching him. “Well, Dr. Reid, you’re officially married to the job now.”

Spencer chuckled softly at the comment, looking at the ring on his finger. “I guess so.”

The silver band felt foreign on his hand, yet he’d grown accustomed to its weight. It was a simple addition to his usual attire, but it made all the difference in his current assignment.

Spencer sat at an upscale bar, nursing a club soda with lime. His eyes subtly scanned the room, landing on the man he and the team had been tracking for weeks—an elusive arms dealer known to frequent high-end establishments. His target was seated at a private table, deep in conversation with an associate.

The cover story was simple: Spencer was a newlywed, here for a drink while his ‘wife’—a well known notorious hitwoman—was away on a work trip. A married man seemed far less suspicious than a lone patron with an overactive gaze.

He traced the edge of his ring absentmindedly. A small detail, but one that could reinforce the illusion.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Fancy seeing you here, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer turned, surprised to see the jewelry store clerk standing beside him, holding a cocktail. She was dressed elegantly, nothing like the casual, friendly salesperson he’d met before.

His brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

She took a slow sip of her drink. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Spencer stiffened slightly. Was she following him? A coincidence seemed unlikely.

She glanced at his hand, her lips curving into an amused smirk. “I see the ring fits well. Though, I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see my ‘customer’ at a place like this.”

His mind raced, analyzing the situation. She wasn’t behaving like a civilian. There was an ease to the way she carried herself, an awareness in her eyes that suggested she was more than just a jewelry store employee.

Spencer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Who are you?”

She chuckled, taking another sip of her drink. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one undercover tonight.”

A chill ran down Spencer’s spine. His fingers tensed around the glass in his hand.

The woman set her drink down, giving him a knowing look. “Enjoy your evening, Dr. Reid. And good luck with your ‘wifey.’”

She turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd before he could respond.

Spencer exhaled slowly, his mind running through the possibilities.

One thing was clear: this assignment had just become a lot more complicated.

[42ifonly]

Originally, I only wanted to address the rumors about Will and Season 18, but it turned into a whole rant, and I am a little embarrassed, that I spent so much time writing this about a fictional character, but these thoughts have been swirling around in my head for ages and now is the time to get it out of my system. And sorry if I went a little overboard and it’s probably all over the place. (Because I am upset!) I don’t mean to offend anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and feelings about something. These are just my thoughts on some of the negative comments I read about the character online. English is not my first language, so forgive any mistakes I may have made.

When I think about something happening to Will I feel an actual pain in my heart and dread in my stomach. It would be so incredibly lame for them to kill yet another significant other. It makes me so angry and sad. And now that everything points that way, I have to protect my heart and not watch the new season, even though I have loved Criminal Minds for so long. It is just no way to treat a character that has been around for almost all the running time, to just take the easiest way out. And if they don't kill him and they separate then what the hell where the writers and show-runners doing for 15 seasons other than repeatedly reinforcing their relationship and reinforcing how they were both always set on making it work no matter what.

And don't get me started on all the missed potential, with him being a cop and working together with the team. Josh Stewart is such a great actor and gives great nuanced performances. And if he truly did leave on his on terms and it wasn’t due to budget or scheduling then that is totally fine of course, but they could still find a million different ways to go without destroying everything we have been trough with these two.

I am going to address a few of the points people made about why they don’t like Will:

JJ's character is reduced to her having a family:

I love her vulnerable side, she is great at her job and she has to deal with horrible things, and to see her open up to Will and let go of her mindset to not show how affected she is by some of the things that are going on is truly great. She is puts up a front and compartmentalizes to cope (like when she told Hotch she didn’t need time off and she was fine in season 12x2), and I love that Will is able to break through those walls to keep her sane. And just because she is a badass FBI Agent, she is not allowed to rely on other people sometimes and have a family that she actually loves and that love her back? Where else would she be able to show that side of herself, and it doesn't mean that she's only defined by her family. It just means that we get to see her outside of her professional demeanor and personality. I really don't understand why people are offended. It just gives her more depth because we rarely get to see characters outside of their work environment. I always loved the fact that Will was not the obvious choice for a character like JJ and her being with him really adds another dimension to her character. And in fact her family rarely makes an appearance and/or is mentioned throughout the series, she is a just as good a character without them. Seeing her with Will and the boys just makes her more relatable and tangible and I love that.

Season 3: Will is pushy, whiny and doesn’t respect her boundaries

I get why some aren't fond of his actions in season 3. They are calling him out for not respecting her boundaries and I can somewhat be on board with that. But it doesn't make him a bad guy for eternity with no coming back from it. Some criticize his lack of self-respect/confidence when he confronts her about it in the sense of "he is so whiny and insecure”. How would you feel if your boyfriend/girlfriend pretended to all their coworkers that you aren’t dating after being together for a year. Imagine putting all this time and effort to date someone long-distance and then they want to keep it a secret and leave you hanging when you confront them. Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings and make you a little sensitive? I would feel a little insecure if the person I was in love with acted like they didn’t really know me, all while I am mourning a friend and would actually need some support from this person. He is asking perfectly reasonable questions to make sense of the situation, and he knows her and probably knows she is holding something back.

Both people were entitled to feel the way they did. JJ is allowed to be scared, and Will is allowed to ask for commitment. People forget nuance exists.

And when she said she wanted to break up with him he showed some self-respect, respected his own boundaries, didn't make a scene, accepted her decision and let her go. But then those same people come along and say he didn't even fight for her ... so you want him to be toxic now?!?! You want him to push her?!?!

And turns out he was right all along it had nothing to do with her hiding it from her co-workers and protecting her private life. She was scared of getting hurt....that's it. So I just don't understand what the fuss is about.

Revealing her pregnancy on the other hand, was a bad decision and I don’t think he should have done that. But he is just a human being, a young guy who suddenly had to make some pretty big decisions about his life. He was going to be a dad sooner than he thought he would and he was probably a little out of his mind and scared, about the future and about JJ and their child. He made a bad decision and acted a little impulsive. I am sure we all have done things out of fear and against our better judgement that we regret.

I think he has proven enough times, that he respects her boundaries and her job. But somehow, after almost 20 years, people still can't get over it, which is beyond me…

And to be honest, it seemed to me that JJ was more relieved that the cat was out of the bag than anything else, that she no longer had to carry this secret around with her.

JJ settled because of the baby:

JJ decided to stay with him before! She found out she was pregnant. There was no settling. And it is not like they plucked Will out of nowhere. It’s not like she was flirting and letting her guard down with detectives all the time, and Will was just the latest in a series, so they made him the father of her son because the actress was pregnant. There was an obvious connection between the two of them and SHE gave him her card, SHE made that move. They’d known each other for a year before she got pregnant, and SHE decided to stay with him before she got pregnant. So even if her becoming a mother was due to AJ’s pregnancy, their relationship was not completely out of nowhere and the writers chose that story line with her kissing him in front of everyone to make a point of: She wants to be with him with or without a baby.  

Will doesn’t respect her jobs, wants her to quit all the time and shames her for her career:

Season 7x7: I think it is only human to get upset when you where looking forward to spending time with your partner and they have to leave in the middle of the night leaving you with your sick child. Even if you knew what you were getting into!!! It doesn't mean you can’t get upset or be disappointed every once in a while. He is just always supposed to sit back and be meek and mild about it all? He is probably very aware that her job comes first, and he just wants to spend time with her and have her home. And every single time (Season 3, Season 5, Season 7, Season 12, Season 13, Season 14, Season 16) JJ considers leaving work for her family it’s Will who encourages her to stay and/or keep going. If anything, he is a little to nice about it sometimes.

Will is bland and boring and doesn’t show any emotions:

Anyone who says he is boring and doesn’t show emotion would probably be the worst profiler of all time. The way his emotions are conveyed is subtle and it hits deep if you are susceptible to it. Just because Will isn't loud, and exaggerates his emotions, screams, cries, jumps up and down or acts like freaking emoticons, doesn’t make him bland, I am sorry, maybe you need to work on your empathy. I love his quiet strength and grounding presence. JJ always knew where she stood with him, no games no childish behavior. He wears his heart on his sleeves and is always open about his feelings and even when they get the best of him, he takes a step back and puts everything into perspective and looks for solutions. He doesn’t act like a fool and completely irresponsible (like Morgan), when his wife goes missing, putting the investigation and the people’s lives at risk. It was so refreshing for me to see that and just speaks to what a mature and sensible person he is. He does what he knows is right and trusts the team to save her. He is sensitive and self-reflective and dotes on his sons.

And in no way is he a boring character, we have seen him in something like 10 episodes and yet I know more about him than some of the main characters. He accumulated his fair share of trauma: His dad, who he was very close to, died in Katrina, his partner/friend was murdered a year later, in Season 7 his partner was shot right in front of him. He had to leave his son with a psychopath. He has been kidnapped, assaulted and strapped to a bomb. And his wife was kidnapped, shot, assaulted, tortured and they lost their baby.

He is one of the very few cops/detectives who actually play a role in hunting down the suspect and talking successfully talking them down – hence he is a pretty good cop before he even turns 30. He left his hometown and family behind to live miles away. He played the drums, had a dog, sings alternative rock in the shower, loves to cook and doesn’t like flowers 😉

Everyone on the team likes him. Despite what Jemily stans say, Emily is probably their biggest advocate. She urged JJ to go after him, and toyed with her secrecy when she pointed out Will was something fun to look at. She joked with him about his accent. She describes him as the last viable donor, she saved him from the bomb, even though he told her to leave. She seemed genuinely happy to see him in Season 16.

Rossi witnessed them getting engaged, he hosted their wedding. He held the speech at their wedding. Will stayed with Rossi at the hospital in season 13. Will asked how Rossi was doing in season 16. He is on first name basis with Prentiss, Reid and Rossi. He watches Jack for Hotch in Season 11. He agrees on making Garcia and Spence the godparents of his first born. He turns a blind eye in season 14/15 to the confession ordeal. He let Reid come over all the time when he was mourning Emily.

The Will-haters also just start making up things like: “he is so annoying because he kept asking her to marry him, proposing over and over”... for all we know he asked her once to show her that he was here to stay, to make sure she knew he would be there for her and baby, and then he asked her again when she asked him to.

And lastly, I cannot believe the people hating on Will calling him dull, because he looks the way he looks. I am sorry but that is just plain stupid and incredibly shallow. Or the ones complaining about his accent... is that really all you got?!?!

I could probably write a dissertation about Will, but I will go cry now because I am heartbroken, and I just wanted them to have a happy ending.

[bucker3911]

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

that reality check hitting after reading smut

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[rana030]

Pov: you're reading fanfiction and suddenly y/n starts to call him daddy

[luffyssa]

[mggslover]

Stuck

In which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Pairing: Hotch x Reid x Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face riding, p in v sex, overstimulation, masturbation, breast play Word count: 5,4k A/n: I'm ovulating, so you know what time it is 🤭 I'm really nervous to post this, so I hope you will enjoy!

“Oh, you guys are such babies!” You laugh as Spencer and Derek refuse to step into the elevator, explaining how they’ve been stuck in one before. 

“It’s not funny, Y/N,” Spencer chimes in. “There are six elevator deaths per year. Not to mention ten thousand injuries that require hospitalization.”   

You roll your eyes at his comment, just as Hotch walks toward the elevator. “See!” You exclaim. “Hotch is joining us, and he saved you last time. We’ll be fine.” You add cheerfully.

“You’re coming?” Hotch asks, holding the elevator door open. You nod, pulling Morgan and Reid with you by their arms. 

You chuckle at their nervous reflections in the mirror as the elevator starts moving. A sudden creak causes Derek to snap his head towards you. “It made the same sound the last time!” You were just about to shut Derek up as the elevator shakes and the lights start flickering. 

“Not again!” Spencer whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s about to fall to his death at any given moment.

Hotch inspects the tight space, his expression grim. “It seems like the electricity went out…” 

“Actually, there are a lot of reasons why an elevator might stop,” Spencer interjects. “It could be worn-out suspension ropes, and it actually happens quite regularly that the motor overheats the safety sensors of the-“ 

“Let’s just solve this problem, shall we?” You cut him off, nudging Morgan out of the way to hit the red button on the panel. 

“You think that’ll do something?” Morgan asks, brow lifted. 

“It will alert someone that we’re stuck. We have to wait until somebody comes and gets us out of here.” Hotch adds. 

“Well at least I’ll be missing my meeting with Strauss,” I sigh in relief. 

“It was at twelve, right?” Spencer asks. 

“Yeah,” you respond with a nod.

“Statistically the average wait time to be rescued from an elevator is less than an hour,” Spencer continues, checking his watch. “That means you could still make it in time.” 

“Now that’s just what I wanted to hear,” you say sarcastically, earning a grin from Morgan. 

“We can only hope we won’t be in here for that long,” Hotch mutters, his impatience visible as he leans uncomfortably against the elevator doors. 

“Okay… so now what? Want to go over a case to pass the time?” 

“No, no cases please,” Morgan groans. “We’ve had three in a row. I’m done.” 

“Morgan is right. We’ve done enough cases in the past few days.” Hotch agrees. 

You mutter an “alright” as you sit down with your back against the elevator wall, smoothing out the crinkles in your skirt. The others look at you with uncertainty. Eventually Reid decides to sit next to you, exchanging a soft smile. Morgan follows suit, sitting in front of you. Hotch remains standing. You leave him be and turn to Spencer. 

“So Reid, I’m sure you’ve got enough interesting facts to pass the time.” 

Spencer looks surprised by the request, not used to directly being asked to share his facts, but his eyes quickly brighten, eager to share. “Well, actually, there are a lot of interesting things to say about elevators. There are approximately 20 million elevators worldwide,” you chuckle at his obvious enthusiasm. “The first elevator was created in 236 B.C. by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician. He used a water wheel and tied animals together with rope to create a lift mechanism.” You hum in interest. “They used lifts in the Colosseum, right?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” he responds excitedly. “The system was powered by eight men who would turn this massive wooden shaft connected to ropes. It could hold more than 600 pounds!” 

“Oh come on,” Derek says, his hand falling to his knee. “You’re telling me you’re actually interested in the mechanics of ancient elevators?”. 

Hotch glances at Morgan, silently agreeing with Derek’s skepticism. 

“Derek Morgan…” you feign offense, placing a hand on your chest. “Don’t act like I’m not curious about knowledge. At least Spence’s got something interesting to say.” 

Spencer blushes faintly, appreciating your defense. 

“Hey, I know facts too,” Morgan says smugly. “How about there being 7000 languages in the world today.” 

“The overall number is actually closer to 8000,” Spencer corrects him. “You only counted verbal communication.” 

“You guys are going to have a facts competition now?” You ask, bewildered. “It’s way too hot in here. I need some light conversation.”

“I agree,” Hotch mutters. “It is getting a little warm.”

You glance up at the AC in the corner of the elevator, which is clearly not working. It probably shut down along with the power. There’s a brief silence before Reid speaks up again. 

“I never thought I’d be trapped in an elevator with my colleagues,” he muses. “It’s a little cliché.”

“Cliche, how?” Hotch asks, intrigued despite himself. 

“You know how, in movies, a group of people get stuck in an elevator and they have to learn to overcome their differences to escape?” 

You shake your head in confusion, “I think I only know the dirty movies where they get stuck in an elevator,” you laugh. 

Spencer blinks at you, clearly thrown off. Derek chuckles at the scene, and even Hotch manages a faint smile. 

“I should’ve known you’ve only watched the dirty ones,” Derek teases. 

“What about you, pretty boy?  Ever seen a dirty movie?” He asks Spencer, grinning. 

Reid looks flustered. “I grew up in Vegas… I’ve seen some things.” 

“Ah, Vegas,” you say, sighing dreamily. “The place where you can’t drive for a minute without seeing a giant porn billboard.”

Morgan grins, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Sounds like my kind of place.” 

You laugh and kick his leg playfully. Morgan winks at you, enjoying the lighthearted banter. You glance up at Hotch, who is still the only one standing. 

“What about you, Hotch? What’s your favorite dirty movie?” You ask with a mischievous grin, but your expression quickly drops when you see his stern look. 

“Watch it, Y/L/N.” Hotch warns.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek says. “Let loose a little!”

“See it as the universe’s sign.” I press on. 

“How is being stuck in here a sign of the universe?” Hotch asks, brows raised.

“Well, no way would you willingly take a break yourself. Now the universe got you stuck in here and is forcing you to relax,” you explain, with a playful gleam in your eyes. 

To everyone’s surprise, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, sitting down next to you. 

You exchange surprised looks with Derek and Spencer. All amazed at how you managed to get Hotch to sit down.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, scared to say something that will make Hotch change his mind. You’re glad he joined you, but it’s hard to ignore the rising temperature now that another person is sitting in close proximity to you. 

“How long has it been?” you ask, fanning yourself with your blazer. “I’m starting to sweat.”

“Thirty-five minutes so far,” Derek replies, following your lead and fanning himself. 

Hotch looks mildly uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Spencer, however, looks the most miserable using the collar of his sweater vest to wipe his face. 

“You guys should take your jackets off,” you suggest, eyeing Morgan and Hotch. 

You don’t need to tell Derek twice, as he removes his jacket, revealing a black short sleeved shirt that looks a lot more comfortable. Hotch looks reluctant to do the same, but eventually gives in, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. You take a peak as he reveals his broad, muscled shoulders for a moment, before readjusting his shirt. Hotch notices your glance and his eyes shoot up to yours, catching you in the moment as your cheeks flush. You quickly look away. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying the view, alright,” Derek smirks and you give him a warning glance.

“Shut up. I was just surprised Hotch would give in.” 

Morgan grins and nudges Hotch with his elbow, “Look at that, Hotch. You’re surprising us all today. First you smile and now you’re taking your jacket off. What’s next, dancing a jig?” You and Spencer snort at his comment. Hotch rolls his eyes at Morgan’s teasing but can’t help a small smile from appearing on his lips. 

Spencer struggles with his vest and you give him a hand. “Here, let me help you”, you say as you scoot closer, pulling the vest over his head. The fabric feels soft, but incredibly warm in your hands. You don’t know how he managed to keep it on for this long. Reid is taken aback for a moment, but mutters a soft thanks. Morgan and Hotch watch the exchange with interest, clearly amused at the sight of you being so forward with Reid.

“Now it’s your turn, you’re the one who insisted,” Morgan states, and you can’t help but agree as you take your blazer off, giving a satisfied hum at the immediate relief.

“I’ll open up some buttons too, if you don’t mind,” you announce as your fingers start working on your blouse. You don’t give them a chance to respond, since it seems only fair. Their eyes widen at your gesture, all of them staring at the sight of your blouse slightly opening up. Morgan lets out a low whistle, “Now that’s a nice view.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff as you stop unbuttoning, showing just a hint of your lacy bra. Morgan’s eyes linger on the sight, clearly enjoying the view. Hotch and Reid look like they’re struggling to keep their cool. Reid is the most flustered of all, turning bright red as he focuses on his hands. Morgan glances around at the others, seeing them struggle to keep themselves composed. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying the effect you’re having on them. “You know, you’re driving all of us a little crazy here, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff, “Give me a break. You’re wearing shortsleeves, I’m the one wearing a blouse.” 

Hotch speaks up, his gaze lingering on your blouse. “That blouse does seem a bit warm.” 

“Thank you!” You say, glad someone is on your side. 

Hotch eyes stay focused on you though, or specifically the bit of exposed collarbone and the lace that’s hugged around the swell of your breast. Your breathing heaves when you find Spencer taking occasional peaks as well, watching with a mixture of awe and embarrassment, finding difficulty in looking away. 

“Let’s just all take our shirts off, I want it to be fair”, you quickly exclaim, done with the heavy tension that’s driving you crazy. Hotch and Morgan exchange amused glances as Spencer eyes turn big, taking in your proposal. 

“All our shirts, are you sure about that?” Derek asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Then at least you won’t eye me like that.” 

“Oh, I think I’ll eye you only more.” Derek teases, licking his lips. 

“Just take your damn shirt off.” 

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty.” He says as he lifts his shirt off in a smooth motion. It’s a known fact that Derek is jacked, but seeing him in a setting like this, abs glistening with sweat and pupils still dilated from looking at you, is on a whole ‘nother level. 

You’re glad the attention is taken away from your peering eyes as Hotch follows suit, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a clearly defined muscular chest with just a hint of hair. You start doubting your suggestion as it feels like the room is only growing hotter. You look over at Spencer, seeing whether he’ll be the next. Spencer hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the other’s bare chests and your unbuttoned blouse. His chest heaving with his breath, suggesting that he’s more affected than he’s letting on. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Join the party.” Derek says.

“I’ll go first,” you assure Spencer, not wanting him to suffer under peer pressure. Your hands start working on the buttons. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you reassure Spencer, folding your blouse and placing it next to you. 

“I don’t know about that. You’re making things pretty hard, baby girl.” Morgan comments, making you laugh. 

“You’re way too dirty for your own good.” 

Morgan grins. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You’re looking mighty tempting right now.”

You softly smile at the compliment and focus back on Spencer. “You’ll feel a lot cooler, I promise,” you encourage. 

“I don’t know. I’m not as… toned as the others.” It hurts you to hear how he’s comparing himself to his colleagues. 

“Do you truly think I care about that?” You ask him. “It’s not a competition. I just want you to feel comfortable,” you speak genuinely. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of mockery or deception. When he finds none, his face softens and he nods. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a body no less impressive than the others. 

“Not too bad, pretty boy. You’re looking pretty good without that vest on.” Derek compliments. 

“You do,” You agree, as you fold his shirt and place it on top of my blouse. Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, grateful for your help. Glad he decided to take his shirt off as he felt the cool air hit his chest, “Yeah, that does feel better.” 

You look around the room, the scene for sure one to be put down in the history books of the BAU. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered a new step in our colleague bonding,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but the air feels charged with an unspoken tension that’s impossible to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, the way they linger, the weight of their gazes following your every movement. You try to ignore it, to stay professional, but your body betrays you. You shift slightly, adjusting your skirt, and that’s when you feel it - the subtle brush of Hotch’s fingers caressing your arm.

You swallow hard as you look away. The air around you is suddenly too tight. You want to curse your body as your nipples harden under his steady gaze, there being no way to blame it on the cold. Derek notices the exchange and leans in, the heat between you two palpable. 

His voice is low and husky, “You're all worked up, sweetheart. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” 

Your pulse quickens, the sound of your heartbeat almost drowning out his words. “I’m not the only one,” you counter, voice quieter, but the challenge in it is unmistakable. You feel Spencer shift next to you, his body tense as he feels like he’s been caught staring at your chest. “Don’t be shy, genius,” Derek teases. “We’re all thinking the same thing right now.” You can’t help but smile at Spencer’s flustered look. “It’s… It’s hard not to, when you-” He cuts himself off, his voice faltering as his eyes dart away from your breasts. 

Hotch is still standing by the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the dynamic play out. “We’ve been stuck in here long enough. I think it’s safe to say we all want and feel the same thing.” The air thickens with desire as he dares to say the thought that’s been occupying everyone’s mind. You glance at the others, seeing how Spencer is adjusting himself in his pants and the way Derek is watching you, his gaze so intense it almost feels like he’s touching you. 

“Guess it’s only fair if we all just… give in to it,” you murmur, your eyes flicking between them. The suggestion is there, unspoken but understood. 

From there on everything feels like a blur. You hear Hotch growl behind you as he wraps his bicep around your neck, pulling you in as his lips crash against yours. You whimper against his mouth, which gives him the opportunity to let his tongue slide in. You welcome his tongue with yours as your hand moves to squeeze the arm around your neck, making full use of the circumstances to feel up on his muscles. 

“You’re always driving me crazy when wearing this skirt,” Hotch groans in your ear as his teeth pull on your earlobe. You can find no other way to respond than let out a high pitched sound of enjoyment as his free hand kneads your ass through your pencil skirt. Spencer watches the scene unfold in front of him. How his boss roughly grabs and kisses you, manhandling you. 

 “I- I don’t know about this…” Spencer stammers. 

Morgan turns to him, breaking the intense gaze he had on you and Hotch. “Don’t worry Reid, she’s enjoying it.” 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asks, uncertainty in his voice as Hotch is pulling on your hair, giving him access to plant kisses and bites on your neck. 

Morgan grins, “Let me show you how sure I am,” he says as he steps towards you and Hotch. He rolls your skirt up to your stomach and lets his fingers slide over your panties, cursing when it easily slips between your folds, creating a wet sound. You moan at the friction, not in the state to feel embarrassed by how wet you are. 

“See Reid, she loves it,” Derek points out, licking his lips as he pulls your damp panties to the side. Spencer lets out a groan as Derek reveals your glistening pussy, his hand subconsciously squeezing the bulge in his pants for any form of release.

“Let me see,” Hotch insists, removing his lips from your neck. Derek slides a finger through your folds and proudly displays the stickiness to Hotch. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?,” Hotch whispers, his nose pressed against the side of your face. “Just been begging to get in a situation like this so we could all fuck you the way you deserve.” You whimper at his dirty words and hot breath on your skin. Your legs feel like jelly as he grinds himself against your ass. Derek continues to apply pressure with his hand as he lets his fingers rub up and down your lips and clit. 

Spencer’s eyes are burning holes in your chest. He just can’t understand how no one has touched your lovely tits, while they’ve been teasing him the entire time. 

“You can come here Spence,” you purr, hypnotizing him to walk towards you. He swallows as he’s close enough to touch you, close enough to hear all the little sounds you’re making as you’re being touched all over. 

“Can I-?” You don’t let Spencer finish his question as you quickly nod, throwing your head back as his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a direct spark of pleasure to your clit. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers mostly to himself in awe as he cups your breast, the shape fitting perfectly in his large hand. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back. It’s ironic how his sweet compliment is the thing that's making you shy.

Derek slips a finger inside of you with ease, and you bite your lip to hold back your mewls. “Don’t do that. I like the way you sound.” Spencer encourages, resulting in another moan from you, loving the effect his words have on you. 

Hotch unclasps your bra from behind and Spencer helps him by pulling your straps down, letting your breasts fall free. Hotch grabs your left breast, kneading it with his strong, calloused hands as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers. Spencer uses the momentary distraction to bend down and experimentally licks your nipple, humming at the sensation. He gives a couple more licks to your breast as he pulls your nipple in between his lips, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud. 

You feel overwhelmed by the way all of your erogenous zones are stimulated at once; Hotch licking and biting on your neck and ear, while massaging your breast and grinding his hardness against your ass. Spencer’s swollen lips and wet tongue tracing over your nipple as Derek caresses your thighs as he adds a second finger into your pussy. You realize that this is what pleasure is supposed to be like. The zones on your body are all connected and you haven’t experienced true bliss until those spots get triggered at the same time. 

“Morgan, is she ready?” Hotch asks, breathing heavily. 

“More than ready, sir,” Derek grins as he takes a step back. He lets his fingers slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but then Hotch turns you around so that your chest is pressed up against the elevator doors where he was standing. 

“I need you for myself,” he groans. Derek tosses a condom from his jeans and Hotch catches it, ripping the package with his teeth while pulling his trousers down to his knees, not wanting to let a single moment go to waste. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he slowly enters you. 

“Oh my god… I feel so full,” you whine and you swear you could feel him grin as you register that he’s not even fully inside of you. You let out a long breath as you feel his balls make contact with your ass. 

“You’re doing okay there, princess?” Derek chuckles and you nod. Hotch slowly moves his length out of you as he slams his hips back in with a groan. You gasp as you wrap your hand around the back of his head, keeping yourself steady as he continues thrusting into you. His growls feel hot against your neck. His sweaty chest pressed up against your back, leaving you completely in his grasp.

“You feel that angel? How your pussy swallows my cock?” You let out a cry as you nod your head in agreement. 

“I don’t understand Y/N. You’re a big girl, use your words.” 

“Oh god…’’ Your head spins as he pounds into you. “I’m not going to tell you again Y/N, use your words.” He orders. 

“Yes!’’ you cry out. ‘’God yes Aaron, it feels so good. I can feel you so deep inside of me.” 

“Say my name again.” He moans as his hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your swollen bud. “Aaron, please… I’m so, so close.” He gives some quick taps to your clit, making you squirm in pleasure as your knees give out. His strong hands grip you by the waist and he hoists you back up on his dick. “I’m almost there honey, you can keep it up, be good for me.” 

You let out a string of whines as he uses the palm of his hand to swiftly move against your folds, indirectly bringing pleasure to your clit. You can’t take it any more, pressing your nails into his arms as you crouch down in front of him, shaking as your release hits you. Hotch groans loudly as his dick slips out of your pussy. His dick twitches as he takes off the condom, painting your back with hot spurts of cum.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as you’re still riding down your orgasm. You hum as you feel the soft material of Spencer’s sweater vest against your back, cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, kneeled in front of you. You nod your head and softly smile at his tenderness. 

“Yeah. I feel really, really good.” You answer, making Spencer return your smile. With him in front of you, you notice the visible outline of his bulge pressed against his thigh and reach out to touch it. Your fingers lightly brush over his length, causing him to shudder. 

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask sensually, looking in his eyes. 

“Not really,” he responds, taking you by surprise. He sees your expression and quickly corrects himself. “It’s not like I don’t want you to! I’d- I’d love you to do…”, he’s not actually sure what you planned on doing to him. “Whatever you would do. I just-,” his voice softens, meeting your gaze. “I really need to know what you taste like.” 

Your cheeks warm, feeling your arousal grow. “Okay,” you exhale. Spencer extends his hand, helping you up. You find your blazer and bundle it up for Spencer to lay his head on. You’re amazed at how willing he is to get down on the floor, ready to eat you out in a very nontraditional and arguable unsanitized way. You hover over his face as you get down on your knees, letting out a hum as his breath tingles your pussy. Spencer kneads your calves and runs his hands up the back of your thighs. He tilts his head up, placing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“Feels good,” you mumble. Spencer responds with a hum against your skin, the vibration causing you to moan. He grabs your thighs, slowly pulling them further apart. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he admits, sticking out his tongue and licking a stripe up your folds. You moan, arching your back. Through hooded eyes you spot the figure of Hotch. He’s sitting against the wall in front of you, lazily stroking his half hard length as he stares at you. 

Just when you were about to question where Morgan was, you catch him in your periphery. He holds your gaze as he approaches, coming to a stop right in front of you. His belt buckle hangs open, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched himself. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take up on that offer genius here denied.” You grin at him, hands reaching out to his belt. Spencer is keeping himself busy, licking and sucking up your juices. You pull Derek’s pants down, gasping as his dick springs free, slapping against his happy trail. You groan in delight as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He tilts his head back at the contact. “Fuck baby, your hands feel so warm and soft.” You lean forward and let some of your spit dribble down on his dick, making him hiss. You move your thumb in circles over his tip, mixing your saliva with his precum. When it feels like it’s wet enough, you move your hand up and down his length in a steady motion.

His tip grows red and you cannot resist licking your lips before putting your mouth on him. He feels heavy in your mouth as you take him in deeper, stimulating him with your tongue as you suck. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you as he moves in sync with your movements. 

Spencer moves a hand up the curve of your ass while he uses the other to unbuckle his belt. He slides his hand in his pants, rubbing himself over his boxers as he relishes in your taste. His lips nibble on your labia as his nose tickles against your clit. 

“Don’t get distracted, baby girl,” Derek states, softly pushing your head back down. You swallow around him and try to up your pace. Derek takes your breast in his hand, massaging it. As your nipples harden he takes one in between his fingers, pulling on it. You gasp at the sensation, making his dick slide deeper down your throat. 

“Fuck! Right there baby, that feels so good,” he pants. You blink away tears, continuing the steady movement of your head and swirls of your tongue. 

Spencer’s dick starts feeling too hot in his boxers and he pulls it out, so that it lays against his stomach. Your pussy is absolutely dripping because of the swipes of Spencer’s tongue and the taste of Derek in your mouth. Spencer can’t keep up with licking you clean, your wetness dripping down his chin. He reaches out to grab his length, the skin to skin contact overstimulating him. 

You notice Spencer getting restless underneath you. Derek’s dick pops out of your mouth. “Are you okay, Spence?” You ask. He hums against your clit in response, you let out a high pitched moan and instinctively bend your knees. “Sorry,” you apologize as you want to tilt your hips back up, but Spencer pulls you back down by your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Oh god…” You moan as he starts devouring you. He keeps a hand firm on your ass as he starts jerking himself off to the beautiful sounds that you’re making. You lazily tug on Derek’s cock, too distracted by Spencer’s tongue. 

“Oh Spencer, I’m going to cum,” you whimper, mouth open and brows furrowed in pleasure. You start grinding yourself on his tongue, seeking your release. You find the perfect spot and Spencer presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, as you fall undone. Spencer laps up your juices and squeezes the load out of his dick as it splatters on his belly. You lift your hips to give Spencer some space. He moves away, joining you on his knees as he sits behind you, pressing featherlight kisses to your back. 

“I’m not gonna last that much longer,” Derek announces, who’s been stroking himself to your orgasm. “Come here, then,” you invite as you take him back in your mouth. Placing a hand on his thigh for support, you use all of the energy that is left in you to suck him off. Your free hand reaches out to play with his balls, which seems to be the trigger for him.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m going to cum!” He groans deeply as he fills your mouth. You quickly swallow his load, eyes watering as he pulls you in by your head, needing your lips on him as he rides out the aftershocks. 

“Fuck… You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He sighs, letting go of your hair so that you can catch your breath. 

-

“Who the hell is in there?” 

The voice outside is sharp and gruff. Everyone’s heads whip around, startled. Hotch swiftly buckles his belt as he strides towards the elevator doors.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. I’m stuck here with three of my agents.” 

The voice responds quickly, dripping with disbelief. "Why didn’t you morons use the emergency button?"

Your colleagues look at each other, then shift their gaze to you, all with accusing looks plastered on their faces.

"Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the first one that pressed the red button!" You say in defense. 

The voice outside huffs in frustration. "Red? It's a black button."

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to the panel. You crawl up to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a black button, boldly labeled ‘EMERGENCY.’

"What in the world?" you mutter under your breath. "Then what the hell is the red button for?!"

The voice outside laughs sarcastically. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been working here for six months. Don’t blame me because you can’t read." He pauses, clearly shaking his head. "FBI agents, my ass."

You blink in disbelief. You share an incredulous glance with Derek, then burst out laughing, your frustration giving way to amusement. "Seriously?" you mutter, shaking your head. 

Derek notices how Spencer’s been unusually quiet. “Speak up, kid,” he urged. 

“I’ve known what the buttons do the entire time,” he says, voice casual.

You and Hotch both turn to look at him, eyes wide. “What?!” You both exclaim at the same time. 

Spencer shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you about those movies where people overcome their differences to try to escape. I wanted to see how we would solve it.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You’ve been sitting here the whole time knowing exactly what to do and didn’t say anything?!” 

Spencer smiles, looking almost proud of himself. “It’s a team-building exercise,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Reid.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolts, and the soft ding of the doors opening fills the space.

[minswriting]

CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST

P!Links

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Threesome Content

what happens in alaska stays in alaska - a.h x reader x e.p

unmarked territory - a.h x reader x s.r

marked territory - a.h x reader x s.r

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Spencer Reid Masterlist 2

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist 2

Emily Prentiss Masterlist

Derek Morgan Masterlist

Luke Alvez Masterlist

CM Character Reactions

[in-another-april]

bitches will be like “this is my comfort show” and its a show where the characters have never felt a day of comfort in their lives (its me im bitches)

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?”