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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

Text

Between control and desire

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

part 2

Warnings!: Minors DNI, contains smut infidelity (reader has something with spencer), edging, p in v (wrap it up), creampie, squirting, power dynamics, oral!f receiving, fingering (lmk if i forgot something)

masterlist

Summary : You finally share your first kiss with Spencer, the man you've adored for ages. But what happens when Hotch catches you in the act? As feelings shift and boundaries blur, you're caught between two men, Spencer’s sweet affection and Hotch’s intense control. The line between desire and duty has never felt so fragile. Wc:7,9k

A/n: I've been rewatching criminal minds and i would never cheat on my sweet nerd but Hotch is just so fine y'all...so enjoy!

This case was different. Normally, your assignments involved profiling and analyzing, not dressing up and mingling with the elite. But the unsub had been targeting wealthy women at high-end galas, and the BAU’s intel pointed to his next appearance at an exclusive charity event downtown. You’d be going undercover to draw him out.

In theory, it was simple: show up, blend in, and hope the unsub took the bait. In practice? It was the most uncomfortable mission you’d ever prepared for.

Garcia had handpicked the dress for you, and when she’d shown it to you earlier that morning, you were sure she had made a mistake.

“Uh, Penelope,” you had stammered, holding up the scarlet, body-hugging dress with wide eyes. “You sure this isn’t for one of the donors?”

“Nope,” she’d chirped, looking proud of her choice. “That dress is for you, my dear. And trust me, when you walk into that gala tonight, no unsub in their right mind will be able to resist.”

That didn’t ease your nerves. Sure, you’d gone undercover before, but never in an outfit like this. The red fabric clung to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve. It was sleeveless with a deep, tasteful neckline, a slit on one side that allowed for movement, necessary, since you still had to wear a concealed weapon.

Now, hours later, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in the FBI’s makeshift dressing room, smoothing the fabric nervously. You barely recognized yourself.

“Alright,” Hotch’s voice came through the door, causing your pulse to quicken. “We’re ready for the final briefing.”

You took one last look at yourself, squared your shoulders, and opened the door. The instant you stepped into the hall, all conversation stopped. The team, usually focused and professional, looked up one by one and openly stared.

JJ gave you a supportive smile. “You look amazing. You’re going to fit right in with the crowd tonight.”

“Yeah,” Rossi chimed in, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “If we didn’t know better, I’d say you belong at one of those events.”

You blushed, but before you could respond, you caught sight of Hotch. He was standing at the head of the room, briefing file in hand, but his usual moderate expression had softened. His dark eyes scanned over you from head to toe, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw him swallow hard, his jaw tensing.

“You look ready,” he said, his voice calm and professional, but there was a slight tremor in it that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thank you,” you replied, unable to meet his gaze for too long. You shifted again, tugging slightly at the hem of the dress. “I don’t know how I feel about all this.”

“You look great,” Hotch said, his voice quieter now. “Just be careful. Stay close to the team, and if you feel anything’s off, get out of there.”

You nodded, grateful for his concern. You’d worked with Hotch long enough to know that he wasn’t one for overt displays of emotion, but the way he lingered on you, the unspoken admiration in his eyes—it made your heart race.

The rest of the team began gathering their gear, but Spencer Reid was still standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in open awe. His wide, hazel eyes were locked on you, and he seemed completely frozen.

“Spence?” you asked, smiling softly at him, trying to break the tension.

“Woa,” he whispered, almost too quietly to be heard, but the way his voice stretched out the word made you blush even deeper. Reid was brilliant in every way, and his innocence was one of his most endearing traits. The fact that he was clearly impressed by you, of all people, made you feel more self-conscious than ever.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You okay there, genius?”

Reid blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, his cheeks flushing. “Yeah, sorry. You just... look really different. Not bad, just... really good.” His stammered compliment made the heat in your cheeks intensify.

You smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Spencer. That means a lot.”

Hotch cleared his throat then, effectively pulling everyone back into focus. “Alright, we’ve got our game plan,” he said, gesturing to the screen behind him that displayed photos of the gala venue. “Once we’re inside, we’ll stay in communication. Rossi, JJ, and I will be positioned around the perimeter, while Reid and Morgan will be circulating inside. We’ll all have eyes on you.” He looked at you when he said that last part, his gaze firm, protective.

You nodded, stepping into your role as an undercover agent. The butterflies in your stomach had settled, replaced by the steady focus of a professional ready for the mission. “Got it.”

As you moved to gather your small clutch—outfitted with a tiny earpiece and tracker—Hotch called your name softly. You turned back toward him, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours in a way that made your heart skip. “You really do look... incredible tonight,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His eyes flickered down to the dress, then back up, and you caught something in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, something unguarded.

“Thank you, Hotch,” you replied, feeling the warmth in your chest spread. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

As you left the briefing room, you could still feel Hotch’s eyes on you, lingering even as you made your way toward the exit. There was something about tonight, about the way he had looked at you, that felt different. Maybe it was just the undercover role, the dress, or the high stakes of the case, but something told you that after tonight, things between you and Hotch might never be quite the same.

And as for Spencer? The memory of his innocent “wauw” would stick with you, making you smile even in the midst of the danger you were about to face.

The mission had been a success. You and the team had caught the unsub, and he was now sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed, awaiting processing. The gala had gone off without a hitch, and thanks to the meticulous work of the team, the unsub had been identified and neutralized before he could strike again.

You stood in front of your locker at the BAU headquarters, slipping out of your dress and back into your familiar black jeans and a t-shirt. The adrenaline from the night had worn off, and now you were left with the exhaustion that came after every case. But this time, there was something different, a lingering thought that had nothing to do with the unsub.

The look Hotch had given you earlier had stayed with you. The intensity in his eyes when he said you looked incredible, the way his voice had softened, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with him before. You weren’t sure what to make of it. You had always admired him, respected him, but you’d never considered there could be... more. Not until tonight.

And then there was Spencer. You and Reid had been dancing around each other for months now, exchanging glances, spending extra time together after cases, but neither of you had ever crossed that unspoken line. It was as if you were both waiting for something, but you didn’t know what.

As you closed your locker, the room felt quieter than usual. Most of the team had already left, their shifts officially over, and the bullpen was nearly empty. You exhaled, the tension in your shoulders starting to melt away as you grabbed your bag.

Just as you were about to head toward the exit, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You turned around to see Spencer Reid standing by the door. His hair was a little tousled, and he was still in his work clothes, his tie slightly loosened. He had that sheepish look on his face that you always found adorable.

“Spence,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought you’d already left.”

“I was going to, but I saw you were still here.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything tonight. I know going undercover isn’t exactly your favorite thing.”

You laughed softly, your heart warming at his concern. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just glad it’s over.”

Spencer nodded, but there was something more in his eyes, something unsaid. He stepped closer again, this time breaching your personal space in a way he never had before. You felt the heat from his body as he stopped just in front of you, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You and Spencer had always had this connection, something unspoken that simmered just beneath the surface. You’d shared looks, lingering touches, and moments that felt like they were on the edge of something more, but you had never crossed that line. Until now.

Your pulse quickened as your gaze flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes. The tension in the air between you was palpable. And then, before you could say anything else, Spencer leaned in and kissed you. It was soft at first, almost tentative, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, it felt like everything fell into place.

You responded immediately, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His arms slid around your waist, and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His fingers grazed your hips, anchoring you to him as the world seemed to blur around you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Spencer smiled down at you, his eyes bright and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted, his voice soft.

You couldn’t help but grin, your heart racing. “Me too.”

For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the empty bullpen, wrapped up in each other. But then, the sound of a sharp intake of breath from behind you shattered the moment.

You turned, startled, and froze when you saw him.

Hotch.

He stood in the doorway, his expression carefully controlled, but you could see the flicker of something darker beneath the surface. His eyes were locked on you and Spencer, and in that moment, you realized he had seen everything.

The air in the room shifted. You felt your heart sink, your stomach twisting into knots. Hotch’s jaw was clenched, his fists at his sides, the tension radiating off him in waves. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Hotch,” you started, taking a step forward, but the words caught in your throat. What could you even say?

Hotch’s eyes flickered from you to Spencer, then back again. His expression remained stoic, but there was no mistaking the flash of anger, or maybe it was jealousy that crossed his face. He took a deep breath, his gaze hardening.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said finally, his voice tight, though controlled. “I’ll... leave you two to it.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the room as quickly as he had appeared.

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Had Hotch been... jealous? The thought seemed impossible, but you couldn’t shake the way he had looked at you, like he had lost something.

Spencer’s hand was still resting on your hip, but you barely felt it now. Your thoughts were consumed with Hotch. The way his fist had clenched, the way his voice had wavered ever so slightly. He had seen the kiss, and he wasn’t okay with it.

You let out a shaky breath, turning to look at Spencer. His expression had shifted too, his brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know he was there.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “Do you... care?”

Did you? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that something had changed. Something you hadn’t anticipated. You had been so focused on your budding relationship with Spencer, but now Hotch—Hotch—was a factor you hadn’t even considered.

Spencer’s hand moved from your hip to your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his understanding. “Thanks, Spence. I just need a minute.”

He nodded and stepped back, giving you space as you tried to process everything.

Hotch was gone, but the weight of his presence still lingered. The kiss with Spencer had felt right—perfect, even—but now there was something unspoken between you and Hotch, something that had been brewing beneath the surface without you realizing it.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t how you had expected the night to end. You had thought the biggest challenge was going undercover to catch a killer, but now it seemed like your personal life was even more complicated than the case.

The next morning felt heavier than usual. The BAU bullpen was busy with agents moving about, but you couldn’t shake the tension from last night. Your mind kept replaying the kiss with Spencer, how natural it had felt, the way he had smiled at you afterward—and then the look in Hotch’s eyes when he’d caught you both.

You arrived early, hoping to avoid the awkwardness that was bound to follow. As you walked into the bullpen, your heart raced at the thought of facing Hotch. Would he bring it up? Would he ignore it? You honestly weren’t sure what would be worse.

Sitting at your desk, you tried to focus on the case reports in front of you, but the words blurred together. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice someone approaching until you heard his voice.

“Morning.”

You looked up to see Hotch standing beside your desk, his expression as unreadable as ever. He was in his usual suit, clipboard in hand, but there was something different in his posture, something tense, though he was trying to hide it.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual. You waited for him to say something about last night, but he didn’t. He stood there, the silence stretching between you like a wall.

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything, and you couldn’t tell if that was because of him, or because you weren’t sure what to say. The look in his eyes wasn’t like last night, he seemed determined to keep it all buried beneath his calm, professional demeanor today.

“I was reviewing the case reports from last night’s mission,” Hotch said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was controlled, businesslike, but there was an edge to it. “You did well. I wanted to tell you that.”

His praise should have felt good, but something about his tone made your chest tighten. The words were meant to sound professional, but you could tell there was more he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, Hotch,” you replied, keeping your own tone neutral. “I’m glad everything went smoothly.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “We’ll have the debriefing in an hour,” he said, his voice tight. “Make sure you’re ready.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting at your desk with a sinking feeling in your stomach. The conversation had been painfully formal, and it was clear that neither of you was addressing the real issue. Hotch was a master at hiding his emotions, but after working with him for so long, you knew when something was bothering him.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Spencer approached your desk, his usual nervous energy replaced with a softness that made your heart ache a little. He smiled at you, that familiar, boyish grin that always made you feel warm.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the edge of your desk. “You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

You glanced around the bullpen, trying to avoid Hotch’s line of sight. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

Spencer nodded, though his eyes searched yours for the truth. “Last night was really fun.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, like he was testing the waters to see if you were on the same page.

You smiled at him, feeling a little more relaxed in his presence. “It was,” you agreed, your mind flashing back to the kiss. You were about to say more when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye—Hotch, standing in his office, watching.

Your breath hitched slightly. Hotch’s eyes were locked on you and Spencer, his jaw clenched. He wasn’t hiding it well this time—the tension, the frustration. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, and the realization that you were the cause of it made your stomach twist with guilt.

Spencer noticed your shift in mood and followed your gaze to Hotch’s office. His face fell slightly when he saw the way Hotch was looking at you. “Does he know?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, glancing down at your hands. “Well he saw us last night, so…”

Spencer exhaled, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck nervously. “That’s… complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice tight. “It is.”

The weight of the situation started pressing down on you. You cared about Spencer, you had for a long time, but now that Hotch was involved, everything felt more complicated. You hadn’t even realized there was something between you and Hotch until last night. His reaction, the way he’d looked at you and Spencer, had been like a punch to the gut.

“What do we do?” Spencer asked, his voice soft but steady.

You sighed, looking at him with a mix of affection and uncertainty. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, understanding in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever happens.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. But as you looked over at Hotch again, still watching from his office, you couldn’t help but wonder if “figuring it out” was even possible.

Later that morning, during the team debriefing, the tension was palpable. Hotch kept his focus on the case, addressing the team with his usual authority, but there was an undeniable edge to his words whenever he spoke to you. His eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, and the undercurrent of frustration in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at you at one point, silently asking if something was up, but you just gave him a small shake of your head, unwilling to explain the complicated mess you were in.

By the time the meeting was over, you felt like you could barely breathe. You needed to talk to Hotch—clear the air, somehow. You couldn’t let things stay like this.

When the others filed out of the room, you hesitated for a moment before standing up, catching Hotch’s attention. “Hotch, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He looked up from his papers and after a long pause, he nodded. “Close the door.”

You did as he asked, your heart pounding in your chest. When you turned back to face him, Hotch was watching you closely, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You wanted to talk,” he said, his voice low, but there was a tension there, like he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I just… I didn’t want what happened last night to affect our work. I know you saw me and Spencer, and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening slightly. “You’re right. It shouldn’t affect our work.”

You swallowed hard, sensing that he wasn’t saying everything. “But it does, doesn’t it?”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze steady and intense. When he spoke, his voice was calm but edged with something you hadn’t heard from him before, something raw. “What you do with Reid is your business. But… if I’m being honest, it’s hard to ignore the fact that it bothers me.”

Your heart raced, unsure of what to say. You had expected him to be upset, but hearing him admit it out loud made everything more real.

“I didn’t think it would bother me either,” he continued, his voice growing quieter. “But it does. And I think… I need to figure out why.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged with emotion. You had never seen him like this before, vulnerable, open in a way that made your chest tighten.

You stared at him, at a loss for words. You’d always respected him, admired him as a leader, but now you were seeing him in a different light. A light you hadn’t expected. And now, with Spencer in the picture, everything felt impossibly complicated.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

“I know,” Hotch said, his voice softening slightly. He looked down for a moment, then met your eyes again. “But it did.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You didn’t know what would happen next, between you and Spencer, or between you and Hotch, but one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again

----

Weeks passed, and the intensity of your relationship with Spencer grew. Late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and eventually, those kisses became something more. But despite the connection you shared, neither of you had made it official. It was as if you were both too scared to label what you had—both afraid of what it could mean if you did.

You spent countless nights together in the quiet of your apartment, wrapped in each other's arms, but as the days went on, you couldn’t help but notice that something was shifting. The tension with Hotch never fully dissipated after that night. He had become more distant, colder, but his gaze still lingered on you longer than it should. The weight of it was suffocating, pulling you in two directions, toward the warmth and comfort of Spencer, and the burning intensity of Hotch.

One late evening, you found yourself alone at the office. The team had been working a gruelling case, and everyone had left for the night to grab some much-needed rest. You had stayed behind, your mind too wired to sleep, going over the case files at your desk. The bullpen was eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows over the room.

You hadn’t heard him come in, but suddenly, Hotch was standing behind you.

“You’re still here.”

His deep voice startled you, and you looked up to see him looming over your desk, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were intense—darker than usual.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “Couldn’t sleep. Just thought I’d go over the case again.”

Hotch said nothing for a moment, his eyes flicking down to the file on your desk, but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at it. His gaze moved back to you, and there was something different in the way he was standing, closer than usual, like the professional distance between you had finally worn thin.

“You’ve been distant lately,” he said, his voice quieter now, but there was a rough edge to it. “Not just with me. With everyone.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. Ever since that kiss with Spencer, everything had felt out of balance. You had been caught in this strange in-between space, unsure of where you stood with anyone.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped closer, leaning against the side of your desk. His presence was overwhelming, commanding, as always—but now there was something else in his gaze. Something you had seen glimpses of before, but never fully understood.

“And what about you and Reid?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, his eyes boring into yours.

Your heart raced at the mention of Spencer. You hadn’t expected Hotch to bring him up, not like this. You could feel the tension building, thickening the air between you.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “We’re… we’re not official. It’s complicated.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched at that, and for a moment, you thought he might back off, but instead, he leaned in closer, his hand coming to rest on the edge of your desk, trapping you in place. His proximity made your pulse quicken, and suddenly, the room felt much smaller.

“Complicated,” he repeated, his voice barely above a growl. “You think this isn’t complicated for me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. Hotch wasn’t one to wear his feelings on his sleeve, but right now, there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

For a moment, Hotch didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring at you, his gaze intense and heated. Then, in a move that took you completely by surprise, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from your chair. You gasped as your body collided with his, and before you could say anything, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, demanding—nothing like the gentle, tentative kisses you had shared with Spencer. Hotch’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved with a fierce intensity that made your head spin. It was like all the tension between you had finally snapped, and now there was nothing holding him back.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his suit jacket. Your mind was racing, trying to process what was happening, but your body responded on its own, melting into him as the kiss deepened. Hotch’s hands roamed over your body, one sliding down to your hip while the other tangled in your hair, keeping you firmly in place.

You barely had time to think as he pushed you back against your desk, his mouth never leaving yours. The papers scattered across the surface crinkled beneath you as he lifted you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. The kiss grew more frantic, more desperate, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed against you.

“Hotch,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. They were dark, filled with desire.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew you should stop. This was wrong, wasn’t it? You were still involved with Spencer—sort of—but the pull between you and Hotch was undeniable. It had been simmering for weeks, maybe even longer, and now that the floodgates had opened, there was no going back.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching.

At that, Hotch’s lips were on yours again, his hands sliding up your thighs as he lifted your shirt. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to think about Spencer, but all of that was drowned out by the overwhelming desire coursing through you.

Hotch’s kisses trailed down your neck, and you arched against him, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk for support. You felt the cold surface beneath you, a sharp contrast to the heat between your bodies.

His hands moved with a firm, steady confidence, fingers brushing against your waist as he unbuttoned your pants. His eyes never left yours, dark, intense, and filled with an unmistakable hunger. He lifted you effortlessly, sliding the fabric down your legs with deliberate care, his gaze locked on you as if nothing else existed in that moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the anticipation building as he ran a hand along your thigh, his touch sending sparks of heat through your entire body. When his fingers grazed over the thin material of your underwear, you gasped softly, instinctively pressing closer to him. His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with something almost predatory.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear. “Does Spencer make you wet like this?”

His question caught you off guard. His tone was possessive, commanding, so different from the calm, controlled leader you had known. The edge in his voice made your pulse quicken, and despite the shock of his words, you found yourself craving more.

Hotch’s smirk deepened at your response, and before you could react, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, brushing against your bare skin. The sudden contact with your sensitive flesh made your entire body tense, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped you. “Fuck no, he doesn’t,” you blurted out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. His fingers teased you, moving with an expert precision that made you tremble in his grasp.

He pulled your underwear to the side, his eyes darkening even further as he felt just how ready you were. “You’re a mess for me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you…”

Your breath came in shallow gasps as he tugged your panties off completely, discarding them without a second thought. His hand returned to you, fingers finding your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your knees weak. The pressure of his touch sent waves of pleasure through you, and you clutched onto him, your grip tight, needing something to hold onto as the intensity of his touch overwhelmed you.

Hotch’s fingers moved with purpose, each stroke deliberate, drawing soft whimpers from you as your body responded to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, holding you steady as he worked you over, his expression one of absolute control.

“Is this what you need?” he asked, his voice low, but there was a dangerous edge to it, like he was testing you, seeing how far you would go. “Tell me.”

You couldn’t form words. Your body was reacting on instinct, arching into his touch, your mind fogged by the intensity of it all. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and all you could do was hold onto him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the tension between you reached its peak.

Hotch’s fingers moved harder, faster, pushing you to the edge. The world around you blurred, the only thing that mattered was him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he was guiding you, taking control, making you fall apart.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails digging into his skin as the pressure built inside you, your body responding to his touch in ways you hadn’t imagined. You came hard on his fingers after one last touch to your sweet spot. Falling apart on his fingers made Hotch even harder than he already was.

As you slowly came down from the high, your breathing still heavy, Hotch moved with the same calculated precision that you had always admired in him. His hands gripped your thighs with a firm, commanding hold, putting your legs on his shoulders as he knelt in front of you. The sudden change in his demeanour, this side of him that you had never seen before, left you breathless.

You gasped as his lips pressed against you, his tongue moving in ways that made your whole body react, a rush of heat flooding through you again. It was overwhelming, the intensity of it, the way he was so completely focused on you, as if everything else had disappeared. Your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut, as you surrendered to the moment, to him.

Hotch was methodical, but passionate. His experience, his confidence, was palpable in every touch, every movement. You couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping your lips, the way your body responded to him as though he had unlocked something deep inside you.

Your thoughts scattered, lost in the sensations. You had never imagined anything like this—never expected your best pussy eating experience would happen here, in the very place where you had spent countless hours working side by side with him. The professionalism that had always defined your relationship was long gone, replaced by something far more primal, far more dangerous.

“Oh, fuck, sir… that feels so good,” you gasped, your voice shaky with pleasure.

At your words, Hotch paused for just a moment, a low chuckle escaping him. The sound vibrated through you, and you felt him smile against you, the warmth of his breath adding to the overwhelming sensations. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race even faster.

“So hot that you’re calling me ‘sir’ while I’m doing this,” he murmured, his voice rough, low, filled with satisfaction.

The deep vibrations of his voice against you were almost too much, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You bit your lip, stifling the whimper that rose in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as if it were the only thing tethering you to reality. The way he spoke, how controlled, how in command he remained even in this intimate moment, only heightened the intensity between you.

Hotch wasn’t just any man. He was your boss, the stoic leader who carried the weight of the team on his shoulders. And yet, here he was, unravelling you piece by piece, making you feel things you had never felt before. The forbidden nature of it, the fact that you were breaking so many unspoken rules, only added to the electricity in the air.

As his tongue continued its relentless pursuit, the pressure built inside you once again, threatening to overwhelm you. Every movement, every flick of his tongue, was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tightly in your core, ready to snap at any moment.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—desire, guilt, confusion—all swirling together in a chaotic mix. But in this moment, none of it mattered. The only thing that existed was the way he made you feel, the way he controlled every part of your body with ease, driving you toward that inevitable release.

The intensity of what he was doing overwhelmed your senses, a rush of heat coursing through you, bringing you to the brink. And then, just as you were about to tip over the edge, everything stopped.

Hotch pulled back, his hands still firmly gripping your thighs, but his touch gone, the warmth of his breath no longer sending shivers across your skin. The sudden absence of him left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest, the tension inside you teetering dangerously close to snapping.

"Hotch," you cried out, his name escaping your lips in a desperate plea, your body aching for the release he had so cruelly denied. Your eyes flew open, seeking him, and when your gaze locked with his, you saw the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Please,” you begged, your voice shaky, desperate. “Please, let me cum.”

For a moment, Hotch said nothing, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his silence driving you to the edge of madness. And then, without warning, his hand moved, reaching up to cup your face, his fingers firm as they tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing over your lower lip in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. “Begging.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your pulse quickening, the power dynamic between you only making you crave him more. There was something intoxicating about the way he held you,his control, his dominance. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take whatever he wanted from you.

Hotch’s grip on your face tightened just slightly, his thumb slipping down to brush against your jawline. His dark eyes flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, the need in your body almost unbearable. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, sir, let me cum.”

The way you called him “sir” seemed to ignite something in him, a flicker of pride and desire flashing in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, his hand still gripping your face as he held you there, completely at his mercy.

You nodded, your heart racing, your whole body aching with the need for him to touch you again. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “I need it.”

Hotch’s lips curved into a smirk. He was drawing this out, savouring the control he had over you, watching as you trembled beneath him, completely undone by his touch.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous mix of command and seduction.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your entire body on edge, the tension building with every passing moment. You whimpered softly, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his suit jacket as you tried to steady yourself, the need for release almost unbearable.

Hotch’s hand slid down from your face, trailing along the curve of your neck, his fingers brushing over your collarbone as he slowly made his way down your body. His touch was light, almost teasing, as if he were testing your resolve, seeing just how much you could take.

Hotch’s hands moved to his belt with a deliberate, steady motion, the sound of the buckle undoing echoing through the room. Your breath hitched as he removed his pants and underwear, the sudden intimacy of the moment making your pulse race. When your eyes met his again, they were wide, overwhelmed by the reality of the situation, yet a spark of desire remained unmistakable.

He noticed your reaction, his lips curving into a smirk as he reached out, gently taking a lock of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly tender given the intensity of the situation, and his eyes softened as he looked at you.

“You’re so cute,” he murmured, his voice low, almost affectionate.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could process it, Hotch’s hands were on your hips, his grip firm and commanding as he positioned you. The moment he entered you, the fullness of him made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips despite yourself. The sensation was overwhelming, and for a brief second, the reality of what was happening hit you all at once. This wasn’t just any encounter; this was real, and the intensity of it was almost too much to bear.

But as Hotch began to move, any lingering doubts faded, replaced by the undeniable pleasure that coursed through your body. He was deliberate, every thrust calculated, driving you to the edge with each motion. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the sounds threatening to escape you, but Hotch noticed.

“Don’t hold your moans back,” he commanded, his voice stern but laced with something deeper, a desire to hear you fully surrender to him.

His words had an effect on you, and you let go of the restraint you had been clinging to, your moans escaping freely now as the pleasure built with every movement. Hotch’s pace quickened, the intensity between you growing as he drove you further and further toward the brink. You couldn’t hold back the way your body responded to him, the way every thrust pushed you closer to losing control.

Your head fell back, the sensations overwhelming as he took you rough and unrelenting, his control never wavering. The desk beneath you creaked with the force of it, but none of that mattered. All you could focus on was him, the way he filled you, the way he commanded every part of you in that moment.

And then it happened, your body trembled violently as the release washed over you, the force of it so intense that you couldn’t stop it. You cried out, your entire body shaking as you felt yourself let go completely. It was overwhelming, and before you could even process what had happened, you realized you had just squirted on him.

“Oh, fuck,” you yelled, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Embarrassment flooded through you immediately, and you stammered an apology, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m sorry… I don’t normally do that.”

You looked up at Hotch and his expression was one of pure awe. There was pride in his eyes, as if what had just happened only added to his satisfaction. He let out a low, almost primal growl of approval, his hands tightening on your hips as he continued to move inside of you, driving you both toward the inevitable.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. “That was incredible.”

As he chased his own release, his pace grew more erratic, the intensity between you building once more. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his movements relentless as he pushed both of you toward the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel him lose control, his own release approaching.

When he finally reached his climax, Hotch buried himself inside of you with a low groan, the sound filled with raw need. You felt him spill into you, the heat of it mixing with your own, and the sensation sent another wave of pleasure through you. He kept moving, riding out his orgasm, his hands gripping your hips as if he needed to hold onto something, anything, to stay grounded in the moment.

The room felt heavy with the aftermath of the intensity you had both shared. The air was thick, the only sound the soft hum of the ventilation system and the slow, labored breaths you both took as you tried to come down from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your bodies. Hotch’s hands lingered on your hips, his touch softer now but still possessive, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

You sat up slowly, your body still trembling from the force of your release. Hotch pulled back just enough to give you space, but his gaze never left yours.

You took a deep breath, your mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. Your heart raced as you glanced at him, unsure of what to say. The vulnerability in his gaze surprised you, for all his confidence and control, there was a softness in his eyes now, a quiet tenderness that spoke volumes. His hand, still resting on your hip, squeezed gently as if to reassure you, to let you know that everything was okay.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hotch said quietly, his voice rough from exertion but filled with warmth. “That was...”

He trailed off, but the way he looked at you, like he was still processing everything that had just happened, said more than words ever could. You bit your lip, the weight of his gaze making your heart flutter. He was right, there was no reason to apologize. What had happened between you was raw and intense, but it was also real, and that was something neither of you could take back.

Finally, he pulled away just enough to help you up, his hands steady and sure as he guided you to your feet. You wobbled slightly, your legs still weak from the intensity of your release, but Hotch was there, his arms strong and supportive as he steadied you. The tenderness in his touch was a stark contrast to the rough, commanding way he had taken you moments ago, and it left you feeling even more connected to him.

As you stood there, face to face, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You had just crossed a line—one you hadn’t expected to cross—and now, there was no going back.

But what did it mean? What would happen now?

Hotch seemed to sense your uncertainty, his eyes softening as he reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded, your throat tight as you tried to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t expect this.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something, regret? uncertainty?crossing his features. “Neither did I,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But… I don’t regret it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You didn’t regret it either, but that didn’t mean things weren’t complicated now. There was still so much left unsaid, so much you didn’t know how to process. You had crossed a line with your boss, a man you had always respected and admired, and you felt like you betrayed Spencer, now you weren’t sure what the future held.

He leaned in slightly, his forehead resting against yours in a gesture that was both intimate and comforting. His breath was warm against your skin, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself bask in the closeness, the quiet moment of peace that had settled over you.

“We’ll figure this out,” Hotch murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Whatever this is… we’ll figure it out.”

Slowly, Hotch pulled back, his hand slipping from your cheek as he straightened up. His expression was serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that reassured you, a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You should probably get dressed,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You blushed, suddenly acutely aware of your dishevelled state, and gathered your clothes. Hotch watched you with a quiet amusement, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the desk. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, as if he found your flustered state endearing rather than awkward.

Once you were both dressed, Hotch pushed himself off the desk and stepped toward you, his expression more serious now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“We’ll talk,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Soon.”

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #hotch smut #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine

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ginkgo-phyta · 10 months ago

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I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds fic

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

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Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds self insert

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

Note

Hi my love!

I'm sorry if this is a bother, but I saw you were taking requests and I really wanted to see this one written and you do such amazing writing.

Please don't feel pressured into writing this tho

So, we all know Derek is like, 6'2" is, right, so the girls he talks to are shorter than him, but I was wondering if you could write something with a female reader where she is almost as tall as him, and decided to wear heels to something, like a party or a gala or something, and she feels insecure about being so tall and he's just swooning over her because look at his tall woman, his amazing tall woman who works as an FBI profiler and can literally kick anyone's ass and just look how cool his girlfriend is.

Like, if you wanted to you could write about how some guy made a comment and Derek literally had to be held back because he was full on ready to throw hands for the reader.

Bonus points of she's like really fit, like she definitely hits the gym and you can see it

Again, you don't have to write it if you don't want to/don't feel comfortable, I just thought it would be cute

OMG I love this idea, it's so freaking cute! I had so much fun with this and istg I'm so sick of y/n always being some small fragile little thing in fics, it drives me crazy!!!!

Thank you for requesting my dear ! :)

my girl- d.morgan

a/n: intended for tall fem!reader but as per usual imagine what you like :)

summary: derek comforts you after something happens at the yearly award show

pairings: derek morgan x reader, (platonic) bau team x reader

warnings: insecurities, suggestive tones, crying, fluff :)

You loved your body, seriously you did. It was your vessel, your home. You nourished it and took care of yourself.

But sometimes you wanted to feel shorter. Being tall has its advantages, and yes, you knew you were more than conventionally attractive, but it didn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of your head, telling you it was weird that when you wore heels, your boyfriend was looking up at you, not down. Derek was 6’2. You were 6’2 ½ with these heels on. You were taller, which was fine, but it played in your mind more than you had wanted it to for the entire night.

Derek on the other hand? When he saw you in that perfect dress he didn’t think he’d have the willpower to actually stop himself from fucking you before the event. He felt so lucky. His beautiful, ass-kicking girlfriend was wearing a dress that he’d bought her and she looked fucking delicious. He knew you were gorgeous, especially when he was regularly graced with the image of you naked, but this was another level. On your latest mission you’d taken the unSub down on your own and he swore he’d never been more turned on. The way you just overpowered him, getting his knife off him and cuffing him. You were the most beautiful person in his eyes, you always would be.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking into the gala, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, gripping and pawing at you, kissing you constantly. Though, he could see something was wrong. Was this gala too much for you? Did you want to go home early? He wouldn’t have complained.

“You alright baby?” He asked as another award was announced.

“Fine,” you sighed, staring into your plate of food as you just moved the mashed potatoes around.

“Baby,” He placed his hand on your thigh, grabbing your attention. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

Derek frowned. You weren’t usually one for keeping things from him. “Baby-”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced to the table, and stood up. You avoided Derek’s concerned eyes and he got up to follow you.

“How’s the weather up there?” A drunk asshole asked you and he saw the way your face subtly contorted into upset, trying to hide tears.

He saw red.

His eyes darkened and his fists balled at his sides. “You wanna say that again?”

The drunk asshole sobered slightly after seeing the seriousness on Derek’s face.

“Derek it’s fine-” you pleaded, wanting to sink into the floor.

“No it’s fucking not. Say it again.”

David and Aaron got up from the table, stalking over before Derek swung at the guy.

They were too late.

“Derek!” You shouted as the other two pulled him off the man. Other tables were starting to stare and you felt perpetually worse. You should’ve just worn flats.

“You can shut up next time, yeah?” Derek jeered at the bleeding man as Aaron and David held him back.

“Calm down,” Aaron ordered cooly, and Derek instantly pulled himself out of their arms,brushing them off.

“I’m calm,” he said. He was not calm. No one got to insult his girl.

“Can we just go home?” You whispered through shaky breaths. Derek’s attention was all on you.

“Of course we can.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive home was silent, his hand on your thigh as you attempted to calm down.

Derek was wracking his brain for why you’d been off all night but came up empty.

What was wrong?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You kicked off your shoes, practically running to the bathroom and locking it behind you. Derek sighed to himself as he set down the keys, deciding to grab himself a beer.

You took off your makeup, your dress, and showered, trying to wash your insecurities away. You knew you were pretty, you knew Derek loved you the way you were.

Sometimes insecurities just get the better of you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sheepishly walked into your bedroom and saw Derek on the bed, waiting for you.

“Can we talk?” He asked and you nodded slowly. “What’s wrong?”

And with that, the floodgates opened. You pushed your face into his chest, crying against him as he comforted you. “I just… I know I’m ‘pretty’ and all but… sometimes I just-”

“Hey, you are pretty, so goddamn pretty baby,” he smiled at you and it eased some of the hurt in you. “But I get that you don’t always feel like it, which is fine too, y’know why?”

“Why?” You snuffled out, looking up at him through running mascara.

“Because I can alway remind you, my pretty girl,” he smirked, and sealed his statement with a kiss.

You felt better, knowing you had someone who loved you no matter what.

It’s not like Derek minded, he was so head over heels for you you could’ve had two heads and he wouldn't have cared. You were his.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist:)

#derek morgan x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x you #derek morgan imagine #david rossi #elle greenaway

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watermelongirl01 · 1 month ago

Text

Jus In Bello

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: Your lies finally catch up with you and now you have to face Hotch.

Content Warning: Violence, Dead description, Bitchy reader, Sacrifice talk, Sex talk, Long chapter. (almost 4k words I think.)

Your hands were closed over the steering wheel, eyes tightly closed, and your head rested in the seat. That has been your position over the longest ten seconds of your life, trying to remember all the made-up information to get the brothers out of this mess.

You stepped out of your vehicle looking at the helicopter with concern, and marched down the precinct with a couple of files under your arm. The change of scenery forced you to change the look in your eyes from worried to neutral.

With the sound of your high heels clicking against the floor, you approached the nice-looking lady. Her dark hair was braided, and a shiny cross was visible on her chest.

“Hello, darling, I’m looking for Victor Henriksen. Do you know where I can find him?” Brown and expectant wide eyes looked at yours with curiosity. But before she could answer, the man appeared.

“You’ve found him.”

“I’m from the BAU.” You showed him your badge for a brief moment. “We are taking the case.”

“Excuse me?”

“We believe the Winchesters brothers match the profile of a duo of serial killers we’ve been looking for.” You explained while handing him your files.

You hoped those files made sense, but you couldn’t be sure after improvising the whole thing on the flight.

“My department has been looking for them for years, and we’ve never heard a word from you till today.” You could sense the desperation and anger in his voice.

“And you managed to catch them, congratulations agent. But now I will take over.” You simply said sitting at the lady’s desk.

Four pairs of eyes were looking at you with surprise.

“Then what if they are not who you’re looking for?” He crossed his arms looking at you with distrust.

You couldn’t blame him, the poor guy spent years after your boys, and now that he finally got to them, you were about to steal them away from him.

“Then we can give them back to your department, but now they’re going to fly back to Virginia with me.”

“That’s going to take months of paperwork.”

“Well agent, that’s a bridge I’ll cross with your superior, By the way, where is he?”

“He went to visit the prisoners but believe me when I say he’s going to be pissed. He’s not going to let this happen.”

“It’s fine agent, I outrank both of you, I don’t need his permission.”

You knew you were being the biggest bitch and it was going to take a toll on your reputation in the bureau, but right now you couldn’t care any less, you weren’t gonna let them take the Winchester boys away from you. And to be fair you could be way worse.

But suddenly a scream coming from the cells caught the attention of everyone in the room, you quickly took your gun out and followed them.

An FBI agent lying dead in front of your feet, and Sam holding a gun.

“Put the gun down, He shot him.”

“I didn’t shoot him, I didn’t shoot anyone.” Sam tried to explain nervously.

“He shot me.” A Pissed Dean said.

The Winchester’s eyes found your frame next to Henriksen’s and you noticed the relief in their look, but they were still cautious about the many guns pointing at them, everyone noticed there wasn’t a bullet wound on the body, but Henriksen was still holding his gun.

“Talk or I shoot.” He stated.

“You won’t shoot, agent. I won’t let you .” Both brothers looked at you and slightly nodded, you knew your words were reassuring for them, but Henriksen looked at you like you were crazy.

“He was possessed.” Sam said.

But Henriksen wasn’t having any of it, he got closer to you.

“You can’t contradict me in front of the prisoners.” He said, venom coming out with his words. He was pissed and you were about to make it worse.

“I can and I will.” If looks could’ve killed you would be lying beside Steven with the death stare he sent your way.

“We have a helicopter. We will fly them and then you and I can talk about who takes them.”

“I don’t think you understand, you don’t have a say on this, they are leaving this precinct with me.”

And when you thought nothing could go worse, the sound of an explosion shocked you all. The only thing that helped you regain your composure was Henriksen's desperate yells trying to reach out to his colleague.

—

Everyone was panicking except you and Henriksen and then the lights went out. You were officially freaked, the detective was still thinking this was somehow an elaborate plan to free the Winchester brothers, but you knew best, whoever did this didn’t want the Winchesters alive and this was about to get ugly. You rolled your eyes and laughed at his attempt to ask for professionalism from everyone, he was so blind to see that none of that mattered against whatever was out there.

You quickly walked away from the rest and went to the cells. On your way there you passed Nancy, the secretary, and one of the officers.

You stood in front of the brothers with your arms crossed.

“What the hell is happening?”

“Demons.”

“Hate those bastards.” Your eyes focused on Dean's wound. “How 's your arm?”

“Better, the girl willingly brought us some things.” you narrowed your eyes. “What's the plan?” Dean asked

“Well, the plan was using my rank to bully everyone into believing the BAU is looking for you and let me fly you back to Virginia with me, then you escaping and me praying not to lose my job.” You whispered while leaning against the cell bars.

“Was?” Sam’s eyes reflected his worry.

“Well, I was hoping to be out of here hours ago, before he got the chance to read the files, 'cause I’m pretty sure somewhere around file number four, page 20, I ran out of ideas and started to write my Christmas turkey recipe.” You sighed and leaned closer. “Guys, it’s pretty bad out there, Henriksen put us in lockdown.”

“We need to get out of here now.” Sam grumbled. “They are coming right for us.”

“I know, believe me, I do. But those sons of bitches out there are not making this any easier.”

Both boys' faces reflected concern.

“Look, I’m gonna work on it, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here.” You assured while extending your arms between the cell bars for them to take your hands and find some comfort. “Just an advice, next time you see Bella, shoot her.”

“Hey, it’s like we have a contract on us, right? They want us.” Dean said while pressing the white towel over his wound. “I think it is because we are so awesome.”

You frowned in confusion. “Wipe that smile out of your face, you weirdo.”

The sound of footsteps made your head turn to the sheriff, who bluntly ignored you and Dean’s attempts to piss him off. And just opened the cell.

“Uh, Sheriff?”

“It’s time to go, boys.” Your head immediately snapped at him, but he just kept getting closer and so did you.

“Uh, you know what? We’re just comfy right here, but thank you.” Deans said while they both started to back up, and your hand was already making its way to your gun.

“What do you think you are doing?” Henriksen said behind you.

“I’m not gonna sit right here and wait to die.”

“It’s safer here.” Henriksen insisted.

“There’s a SWAT facility in Boulder.”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“The hell we’re not.”

You decided to stay quiet while the battle of male egos began and you were sure that was the right decision, cause the next thing that happened was Henriksen shooting the sheriff and you getting blood all over you.

The boys immediately fought Henriksen while you stared in shock at the sheriff’s body.

“We need help!”

You nodded, pulling yourself together, and helped them to get Henriksen’s gun so they could push him into the toilet with what looked to be holy water and later exorcize him.

“Stay back!” Dean warned the deputy grabbing the gun out of your hand, and you finally pulled yours to point at him as well.

Black smoke came out of Henriksen’s mouth and you lowered your gun.

“Fuck.” You cursed while sitting down on the tiny bed.

Dean was in a hurry to get his weapons out of the trunk when he saw a big SUV parked in front of the police station and a tall man getting out of it. He quickly ran before he could enter the place and pulled a gun on him.

“Who are you?” The man frowned while carefully watching the scene in front of him.

“I’m here for a friend.”

“I asked your name.”

“Hotchner.” Dean’s eyes widened, his hand skillfully made its way to one of his holy water flasks and he splashed Hotch’s face. No hissing, no burned face, no even a reaction.

“Just making sure.” Dean awkwardly laughed. “Your friend is fine, she is inside.”

Hotch nodded with hesitation. But the massive wave of black smoke caught the attention of both men, making them rush inside with no questions asked.

“Hey, look who I found out there.” Dean squeezed your shoulder. “No worries, he is himself.”

Your eyes immediately found the tall and strong man with an unfazed expression frame, you felt a pit in your stomach and your sweat turned cold.

“Hotch?”

“We need to talk.”

“Of course, Sir.” You jumped out of the desk you were sitting on and walked to the other extreme of the precinct so no one could listen to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked but you were just standing still looking at him with the same look of a teenager who just got caught smoking.

“Listen, I don’t know half of what’s happening right now.” He suddenly embraced you in a quick but tight hug.

“That’s not what I asked. You haven’t answered your phone in hours, I knew something was wrong. You took a plane, left just a note on my desk and when I got to know where you were, there was no phone reception anywhere near.” Hotch said while inspecting your face, he frowned when he saw the splashes of blood on you.

“I’m okay. It’s not mine.” He barely nodded but you caught the slight move of his head. “I’m sorry I worried you.” You said with sorrow, scratching your head.

“Worried me? You scared the heck out of me.” You frowned, you've never seen him like that. “When I finally found you, I arrived at a place with dead bodies everywhere, a helicopter on fire, and a man pointing at me with a gun, splashing water on my face. I thought you were taken hostage.”

“Everything got out of control. Hotch you need to leave while you still can.” He tilted his face. “We are dealing with demons.”

He shook his head and placed a hand on his hip. “What happened?

“Sure, well, you see- ” You stutter trying to remember the story.

“The truth.”

You took a deep breath. “I got a call from those boys out there, they were arrested and I was here to get them out, they are hunters. I grew up with them.” You explained while playing with your own hands. “I had a plan, a good one, but then bad things happen and now we are on lockdown. We think the demons want them, but I can’t let that happen.”

“Then I’m gonna help you out and then we are going to talk about what kind of friends you have.”

“We don’t know how this is going to end, I can’t let you do that, It’s not safe.”

“Well, it’s not safe leaving the place either. So put up with it.”

“Hotch.” You called him, but he was already making his way back to everyone else.

—

Everyone in the precinct was painting devil’s traps in every entry and placing salt in every window and door.

“So, you were their call.” Henriksen looked at you.

“I’m sorry.” You nodded. “I’m not the bitch you think I am, I swear.”

“She’s way worse.” Dean said disguised in a scoff while he was pretending to be busy looking down at the map on the desk.

Henriksen laughed. “So, all those files I read are not legit?”

You shook your head. “Not even a little bit.” You looked at Hotch praying he didn’t hear, but the look he sent you told otherwise.

“They seemed pretty real.”

“Are you sure you read those?”

“Does he know as well?” He pointed at Hotch with a head movement.

“Just a part of it, but I’m afraid there won’t be any secrets between us after this.” He nodded

“If we get out of this alive.”

“We will, I promise.” You smiled at him patting his back. “And I’m gonna make up for that bitchy attitude I gave you.”

“Right, everybody needs to put these on, It’ll keep you from being possessed.” Dean said, interrupting your conversation while passing the necklaces around.

“What about you guys?” Nancy asked when she saw none of you had necklaces on.

The brothers stretched their shirts down so everyone could see the tattoos on their chests.

“Smart, how long have you had those?”

“Not long enough.”

Now all the eyes were on you. Dammit.

“Oh, I’m not showing mine, not at least four dates, three dinners at my favorite restaurant, and my father’s blessing.” An awkward laugh leaves your lips. “But I have one just like that, I swear.”

“Her tattoo is in a nonaccessible area.” Dean rolled his eyes. “She didn’t want it to be seen.”

“Well, it isn’t pretty.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretty, it’s safe.”

“How are we going to be sure you are not possessed?” Hotch asked, causing you to look at him with surprise.

“Splash me some holy water, hell, put my head in the holy toilet, but I’m not showing skin.” You narrowed your eyes at Hotch with a smirk drawn on your face. “Unless that is what you want.”

Henriksen frowned in confusion at your flirty tone. “You always talk to your superiors like that?”

“I’m not really her superior, she just lets me boss her around sometimes.” Hotch vaguely explained. Not the best explanation though.

“Uh, Isn’t that a kink of yours?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dean.” You shoved his wounded shoulder making him whine.

—

A loud noise pulled everyone out of their places and quickly following the sound and the shattered glass, you saw a woman standing inside of the devil’s trap.

“How do we kill her?”

“We don’t.” Sam said getting in between.

“She’s a demon.”

“She is here to help us.” Sam stated lowering Henriksen’s gun.

“Are you kidding?”

You were confused, Dean was clearly upset and Sam was helping the blonde woman with glass on her hair, why the fuck did they know a demon?.

“Are you gonna let me out?” Sam scratched part of the devil’s trap out of the floor and you looked at Dean.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

The demon passed the whole group and walked into the police station. Dean sent Sam a glare that you couldn’t decipher and then walked away.

“How many are out there?” Dean asked.

“Thirty at least. That's so far.”

“Who sent them?”

“You didn’t tell Dean?” The woman glared at Sam. “Wow. I’m surprised.”

“Tell me what?”

“Her name is Lilith, and she really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. Guess she sees him as competition.”

“You knew about this?” Sam gulped while trying to look at everyone but his brother.

“Well, jeez, Sam. Is there anything else I should know?” A louder and pissed Dean asked.

You stood in the middle. “Is there anything I should know?” You asked, emphasizing the “I” part. Both brothers looked at you. “Like, who is the spawn of hell, and why the fuck is she on first name bases with you? And what do you mean competition?”

She looked at you, extending her hand at you. “I’m Ruby.” You barely looked at her and lowered her hand with your gun out of your sight. “Rude.”

“Care to start talking?” You crossed your arms.

“She’s helping with the deal situation.” Sam walked closer to you. You stopped him with a gesture of your hand.”

“She’s a demon!” Your voice was starting to rise. “Do you think she’s actually trying to help you?”

“She has already.” He tried to argue back. “Look, we didn’t think it was the best idea to tell you about it.” You tilted your head narrowing your eyes at him, begging for him to carefully choose his next words.

“Oh! Because of the accident thing.” Ruby interrupted like she was answering some kind of trivia game.

Dean got closer to you. “We thought you didn’t want to get involved with any of this and to be honest it’s better if you don’t.”

“Oh, fuck me then, I forgot I’m only here to get your ass out of jail.” Your tongue made a clucking sound. “Got it.”

“No, no.” Sam looked at you with concern.

“It’s not like that.” Dean insisted but you walked past him and stood next to Hotch leaning your back against the wall. Hotch looked at you trying to get a hint of what was happening but you shook your head. It wasn’t the moment for that.

The demon scoffed. “How about the three of you talked about this later?” She looked back at Sam. “We’ll need the colt.” Sam swallowed and looked away from Ruby and Dean avoided eye contact with her.

“Where’s the colt?”

“It got stolen.”

The devil’s neglected kid was pissed, she stood in the middle of the precinct with all eyes on her except yours and Aaron’s whose gaze was glued to you.

“Fine, Since I don’t see that there’s any other option, there’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive.”

“What 's that?” Dean asked.

“I know a spell.” Her hands made her to her hips. “ It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included.”

“I’m in, it was one hell of a ride Ruby, it was nice meeting you.” She rolled her eyes at your sarcastic comment.

“Okay, what do we need to do?” Dean stood up.

“Aww, you can’t do anything, this spell is very specific.” Her eyes analyzed everyone in the room. “It calls for a person of virtue.”

“I got virtue.” Dean insisted but Ruby laughed at him.

“Nice try. You are not a virgin.” Your eyebrows frowned.

Dean chuckled while awkwardly looking around. “Nobody's a virgin.”

The officer’s head movement looking towards Nancy was highly noticeable, which made everyone in the room look at her, the poor girl just uneasily crossed her arms.

“No, no way.” Nancy just scratched her neck. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? It’s a choice, okay?”

“Not even once? I mean, not even…? Wow.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Dean. She's not missing anything anyway.” Everyone looked at you in surprise. “I’m just saying…” You got flustered and just looked down.

Hotch mouthed a “Really?” at you.

“What? Not everyone knows how to please a woman.” You whispered your explanation, afraid of attracting all the attention again.

“So, the spell. What can I do?”

“You can hold still, while I cut your heart out of your chest.” Your eyes widened in horror.

“What?”

“What, are you crazy?”

“Of course she is, she’s a demon, that's probably what she gets for lunch every day.” You blurted and shook your head in frustration.

“I’m offering a solution.”

A discussion began between Ruby and Dean, but before it could escalate, Nancy shut them up.

“I’ll do it.”

But that just started another round of arguments, which many of those you missed when you spaced out, the only thing that brought back was when you heard Sam’s name being called by Ruby.

“Sam, you know I’m right.” Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam waiting for his answer. He wasn’t the only one waiting.

“Sam?”

But his answer never came.

“What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her.”

You swallowed and looked at him. “Sammy?” You called for him. You knew your voice sounded judgmental, cause he was doing everything to avoid your eyes.

You shocked your head in disbelief when Sam followed a pissed Dean into a hallway. Your body slowly slid down to sit on the floor, your legs touching your chest. Hotch sat right next to you, placing a hand over your knee.

“What’s in your mind? And don’t try to lie.”

“I guess I failed, I swore to their Dad to be for them.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Suddenly they befriended that black smoke sucker and now Sam is willing to cut out some innocent girl's heart, and that’s a little troubling, that’s not my Sammy.” Tears began to well up in your eyes but you blinked away the tears before anyone could see.

“You always try to help them from what I’ve heard, even if that breaks the rules, I did hear about the false files.” He tried to comfort you by caressing your knee, making little circles on it with his thumb.

“Sorry about that.” A little chuckle came out from your mouth. Hotch thought that the sound was almost melodic.

“And you’re also mad they have a demon friend.”

“Not mad, just disgusted, Her kind lies and do immoral things just for fun. I don’t care that she clearly knows more about their life than I do, she is sketchy to me.” Your eyes looked at the blonde head a couple of feet away from you. “I mean her solution is killing a virgin, what if Nancy wasn’t one?.”

“You think she made that up?”

“Everything has to play their way, I know she can’t smell virgins, but it’s just weird how lucky we were to have a virgin with us.”

“What about the accident she mentioned?” Hotch’s curiosity got the best of him.

You tilted your head and sighed. “I got possessed, and almost killed myself in the process, but I would rather not talk about it.”

—

“Where’s the hell’s spawn? She left before the party?” Your eyes look at Sam for a brief moment and then continue to look at the gun you were loading.

Dean came up with a plan. It wasn’t his smartest idea, but it was better than cutting someone’s heart, so everyone agreed to it.

“She didn’t think it was going to work, She left.”

“That’s nice of her. Such a good friend you have there Sam. John would’ve loved her.” Sam looked at you in surprise, He knew you weren’t mad at him, that the only reason you were upset was because you felt hurt about the hidden information, and feeling hurt and sad was upsetting for you. But the fact you called him Sam and not Sammy concerned him a bit.

“Hey, you two.” Dean stood in between you and Sam. “After this is over, we are going to sit down and discuss this as a family, you heard?” Sam nodded but you just rolled your eyes.

“You don’t get to decide when we are family and when we’re not. This is the last time you hide information from me. If you don’t want me to leave your ass in jail, you idjits.” You quickly gathered the things you needed and walked away from them, you searched for Hotch and found him already in his position.

“I don't know how this is gonna go, I just want you to know I’m really glad I’m by your side right now. It makes me feel safe even if I know there’s a big percentage of me being killed tonight.” You scratched your head, talking about your feelings always made you want to puke. In the end, you and the Winchesters were raised in a similar household.

“Don’t say that, we are going to win, and after that, we will fly back home and go to that overpriced restaurant you love so much.” Hotch smiled and you stood silent for a few seconds while biting your lip thinking about the consequences of your next move.

Whatever, you might die today anyway.

“Fuck it.”

You got closer to Hotch and stood on your tiptoes so you could have a better chance of reaching him, but even that and wearing high heels wasn’t enough, you reached for the end of his tie and roughly pulled him to you, so you could push your lips forward and slightly peck him on the lips. His lips felt a little chapped but they still felt like the perfect combination when they perfectly fit with your soft ones, and you’re sure your tinted chapstick helped a bit.

“Just for luck.” You winked at him and quickly got away before you could see his reaction or hear any repercussions.

“All set?” You heard Dean’s cream getting you out of your bubble.

“Let’s do this.” You smiled.

“So, are you leaving soon?” You looked up at Dean who was standing next to Sam in their room’s door frame.

You crossed your arms and slightly nodded. “Yep, Tomorrow morning, you?”

“We will hit the road in a few hours, Henriksen already killed us, we don’t want to risk it.” You chuckled. “Hey, you know we love you, right? We are family.”

“You guys have mentioned, yeah.” You tilted your head looking at them. “And I love you, boys.”

Sam took one step closer and looked at you with his beautiful but concerned eyes. “We just didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“I know Sammy, but you have to understand I can handle myself. Hey, I know you are struggling and you think you will have to keep fighting alone, but I would give up my badge for helping you, I would risk my life. So before you feel like asking for help from that demon, come to me first, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, boys.” Sam gifted you a big smile and closed the space between you with a big and tight hug.

When Sam let you go, it was Dean’s turn.

“Hey, I need you to know that I’ve forgiven you for breaking my favorite doll that one time and- -“

“That was ages ago, I was like twelve.” He interrupted you.

“Shhh, I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart moment right here.” You shushed him and put a finger on his lips so he would stop talking. “You have to know that I need you, that if you’re not here, that’s not a world I would like to live in. I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you, I swear.” He slowly walked closer and pulled you into a hug, you tightened it by grabbing him by his jacket, in that hug, Dean felt your love, but he also felt the desperation in not knowing if tomorrow you’ll still have him. He kissed your head.

“Enough with the chick flick moments, you need some sleep.”

“See you guys soon.” They nodded.

“Use protection!”

“Shut up, Dean!”

After saying your goodbyes, you walked just a few steps and entered your shared room with Hotch, who was already sitting in his bed.

“You talked out with the boys?”

“I did.” You smiled at him.

“Well, let’s sleep, we need to rest for tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, boss. Oh, no wait, you're not my superior, I just let you boss me around sometimes, right?” He smiled.

“Which is a Kink, Dean said it.”

“It’s not, don’t listen to him, you met the guy, he’s pretty stupid.”

“I don’t kno- -.” Hotch got interrupted by someone knocking at the door, you cautiously pulled out your gun and opened the door.

“Dean?”

“Turn on the news.” He said while both brothers entered your room.

Hotch took the control remote and pressed the on button.

Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion…

“It happened right after we left.” You looked up at Sam.

“Lilith?” The brothers nodded.

Hotch turned off.

“She would’ve done it anyway, it’s not on you.” Hotch reassured them.

The four of you stayed in silence for a while, looking at each other. Dean decided to break the ice first.

“How did it feel to be in your first massive exorcism?” Hotch smiled.

“Not what I’m used to.”

“We should leave.” Sam announced. “We are skipping town early.” You nodded.

“You know, I’m a federal agent. Why should I let you go?” Both boys frowned and looked at Hotch with concern.

“I mean the news kinda killed us already.” Dean said with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah?”

The brothers called your name for help, and although you were enjoying the banter, you decided to rescue them.

“Don’t worry, guys. I got it.” You stood between the brothers and Hotch. “Start running, I’ll distract him.” They immediately listened and left the room.

Hotch frowned. “What’s the distraction? Nothing is keeping me from chasing them.” You couldn’t believe he was being this playful, but you played this game even better.

“Hey, Hotch.” You pulled down the left side of your pants and panties just to give him a quick look at your tattoo.

Hotch’s eyes darkened while his tongue passed over his upper lip. His eyes were not leaving the view you were giving him. You saw how his fist closed tight and then opened up again after a few deep breaths and managed to compose himself.

“I knew it was at your hip.”

“You were right.” You chuckled while you opened your bag to look for clothes.

“By the way.” You look up at him. “Watermelon.”

You frowned with confusion. “What?”

“Watermelon.” He repeated once again. “Your lips taste like watermelon.”

Tags: @adrienneleclerc @hayleym1234

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nexus-my-beloved · 4 months ago

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This October, a brand-new story and artwork is coming to you for @deancashorrorfest ! With art by @suninjang and a fic by yours truly, we've created something we're sure you'll love !

Rating: Explicit

Major Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - FBI Agents, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Castiel, Blood and Gore, Dean Winchester has a Crush on Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Issues (truly, without saying the plot outright even if it's somewhat obvious, anything else is a spoiler! But Dean has issues. Period.)

Summary: Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. Lately, they've been following a set of murders, cold cases that even Castiel - the bureau's best agent - can't solve. The murders seem entirely unconnected, no string to suggest that they're similar at all - that is until Castiel begins to recognize the victims. Suddenly, things are starting to slot into place, and Castiel isn't sure he likes where the signs are beginning to point.

Teaser: Once at the front desk, Dean worked out what they needed to be allowed access to the back room, and Castiel continued to look over the report.

The amount of injuries sustained were concerning, especially when Castiel began to wonder how exactly the killer had the time to inflict them all. Dean pulled him along into the back room, allowing Castiel to continue to read. “It’s strange,” he started, lifting up a page and being granted sight to another photo. “All the bruising around these cuts… It’s almost like…”

“Yeesh,” Dean exclaimed, taking in the sight of the body in front of him. “Looks like she got Tatum Riley’ed.” Castiel looked up from the report to give Dean a confused look, unsure of who Tatum Riley was. Dean didn’t seem too impressed by Castiel’s lack of knowledge, however, giving him a surprised look. “What? C’mon, man! Scream! Ghostface?” Castiel only shook his head. “I don’t understand that reference.” Dean scoffed, pointing over at the wounds. “Dude, I don’t know how you do so well at this job without seeing a horror movie or two. Look– Tatum Riley was one of the people that got killed in Scream, right? She got cornered by a killer in the garage and the door back in was locked. She tried to get out using the doggie door that was on the garage door, but she got stuck halfway through. The killer lifted up the garage door and crushed her in it while she was stuck.”

Castiel shuddered at the visual. It didn’t seem like a pretty way to go out.

“Anyway– look at this,” Dean continued, pointing at the bruising and cuts. “I mean, it doesn’t look perfect. There was probably a few knife slashes in there, y’know? The movie never actually showed Tatum’s wounds– I mean, you could see that the head was clearly fake when Sydney saw her later– sorry. We never actually saw how she looked after, under the shirt and all, but I’d imagine it might be similar to that.” Castiel nodded a bit, thinking about the scenario. It did seem probable.

“I was never actually told where they found her body,” Castiel admitted, looking over the body before back to the report. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go see what I can find out.” Dean nodded, shooing Castiel away. “Yeah, you go see. I’ll try to get a few other guesses on what might’ve happened to Riley 2.0 here.”

Making his way towards the front desk, Castiel allowed himself to think. A kill that seemed similar to a horror film? Could it be the same killer that he’d been unable to catch? If so, then the killer must’ve really switched gears — that, or Castiel was incredibly uncultured on horror movies to recognize similar murders (that very well could be the case; Castiel wasn’t one for understanding movie references).

A kill similar to a classic Scream death? The circumstances being different than the other cases? Is it really the same killer, or does the culprit have a vendetta against Castiel, a want to lower his self-esteem through a subliminal message worthy of being compared to Will Graham's first killer in Hannibal?

Find out more soon - It Will Come Back hits Ao3 this october . . !

#supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #nexus speaks #nex rambles #deancas #horrorfest #deancas horrorfest #spn fanart #spn bang event #writing bang #art bang #dean winchester fanart #castiel fanart #fbi agent dean winchester #fbi agent castiel

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is-on-its-way · 6 months ago

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The moment Mulder quits

A point in which Mulder was ready to quit the minute he saw Scully hold a baby in season 7 and its effects in season 8

*this is my headcanon, its not gospel obviously Firstly, two scenes that are very linked in my head

Season 7 Ep 22 Requiem and Season 8 Ep 16 Three Words

Look at that face. That dead serious, at all costs face.

Season 7

Requiem. The culmination of Scully and Mulder's secret yearish? long quest for a baby. They've tried for a baby with IVF already. Mulder has promised her he wont give up on a miracle for her and they're well... trying basically, throughout season 7. Perhaps I would call it "hoping" for a baby. Maybe Mulder is hoping and Scully is characteristically ambivalent? Fully not using any contraceptives and I know there's a fic in there somewhere, anyway

The first scene above is why Ive never watched past the season 8 finale. nothing past them agreeing to be a family makes any sense because of Mulders face here. People knock Duchovny for not showing out when acting, but I will always be a defender of subtle acting. The way he can say an entire monologue of dialogue with the minute expressions on his face is quite breathtaking here.

Hes goes from sorrow at Scully not being able to have a baby, sorrow at her loss, sorrow at not being able to give her that; to regret at what he thinks is all his fault, at dragging her into this life; to pure love and affection for her seeing this baby in her lap and how good she is with him; and then a smile peaks out. A smile of hope that could compete with the Mona Lisa. Hope for their future and the certainty with which he knows what he wants so clearly, maybe for the first time in his life. His own family.

Like for the first time hes really deciding the cost is too much and he chooses her over the mission. He chooses their future over everything. And he's hopeful and perhaps even happy about it. which for someone with his amount of family trauma is a seismic shift. For so long he's chased the past in hope of fixing it, completely discombobulated and reckless in his search for well, his family.

Though, from the beginning of that moment in the rainy graveyard, he has slowly unconsciously coming to regard Scully as his family. In small gestures, a hand on her cheek or voicing out loud how important she is to him; to big gestures, giving up who he believes is his actual sister to save her.

We are lucky here, to be able to witness the moment the sparks of unconscious thought bloom into the flame of certainty. He follows up as well. Tells her she has to stay, that the cost doesn't outweigh the price anymore. Sure he wants to finish out this case, but he doesn't work without her, thats been established. Him telling her to stop, is his resignation as well. (There's a fit there too, with Skinner and him on the plane probably Skinner already knowing he's done.)

Thomas Flight praises subtly in acting better than I could ever articulate here:

youtube

Season 8

Mulder was weird and the PTSD was implied, but I choose to see it everywhere. After the moment in three words where Mulder tries to let them go gently because he thinks he's too damaged to be a father (Thanks @randomfoggytiger for the meta on that) (there's a fic here obviously where Scully gives him the space to be broken and also hers) After this though, he's not the Mulder as we've seen, ever. He's not the Mulder who

cares about exposing the government so he can say I told you so

cares about saving the public from the invasion

cares about finding the ultimate truth that has driven him since he found the X files

cares about solving cases and one upping the FBI, trying to force them to admit the truth out loud.

Mulder is fighting the entire season for his family.

he cares about exposing the conspiracy so everyone including his child will be safe.

he cares about saving the earth for his child's future

he cares about his childs and his families safety

he has zero concern about the FBI and what they do anymore.

In the second scene above, he's about had it with the entire conspiracy and he's downright pissed. He wants it all to end he doesn't care how. He wants to protect his child above everything. Sure he's usually reckless but this isn't for him and his self involved cause anymore, it's for his family, his wellbeing be damned at some points along the way. He states his thesis in three words while breaking into FBI files in an astonishing show of recklessness

"Look, Scully, I need to make sense of what happened to me. So that I can stop it. Because if I can't stop it, it could happen to anyone. It could happen to you. And who's to say it's going to stop there?"

I always wondered why he was putting Scully through all that, without realising this was the reason. Poor guy. There's nothing else in his purview anymore besides that baby who's in danger, and his family, so much so, when he is ultimately fired from the FBI, he's positively giddy at his newfound freedom.

If he had then gone down a path temporarily where he murdered his way through the remnants of the syndicate to assure the safety of his family John Wick style, I would've absolutely believed it.

It would've been insanely intriguing look at an evolving dynamic between Scully and Mulder. Scully law abiding Mulder reckless as always but with a different motivation. Becoming what he's always feared, to protect the family he has never had. A family he feels like he's only grasping at, as they're slipping through his fingers due to the danger and his recent and past traumas.

There's a reason a lot of the fandom sees Mulder as a happy stay at home dad post wherever they decide to end watching. Thats what he's been searching for his entire life. A happy family with loving parents. When he let go of that dream for himself in Closure, he found he could want that for his future family whatever that looked like (adoption, a miracle, etc.) in Requiem. And I personally don't believe he ever would let that dream go once he realised, I mean we all saw the devotion he had to his sister right?

In other words these are my reasons season 9 onwards make zero sense and I regard them as AU

#x files #txf #msr #mulder and scully #fox mulder #the x files #xfiles #txf meta #Requiem #Three words #In defence of subtle acting

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diopeitudo · 4 months ago

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Dio is the textbook definition of a sociopath

As someone who's interested in psychology, I think it's fun to analyze the mental state of fictional characters, especially villains, to understand why they commit such atrocities. Dio is a particularly interesting case, as while I don't think he's a super complex character writing-wise, he's pretty fun to analyze psychologically. So, while I was researching personality disorders, I noticed that Dio exhibits pretty much all the symptoms of antisocial personality disorder.

So let's go through them, shall we?

Disregard for laws and social norms;

Consistent deceitfulness, lying, or manipulation for personal gain;

Lack of empathy, guilt or remorse over harming others;

Impulsive behaviors such as substance abuse, risky sexual behavior, etc;

Hostility, aggressiveness, and frequent physical fights or assaults;

Superficial charm/charisma used to manipulate others;

According to the American Psychiatric Association, a person needs to exhibit at least three of these symptoms before age 15 to be officially diagnosed with ASPD. In Part 1, we can see that Dio exhibits most of them as young as 12 years old.

Now you might be thinking: "but it's very common for villains to have these traits, you can't just diagnose Dio based on that", and that's a fair point.

…But then I read an interview with Araki where he states:

"[...] Additionally, FBI psychological profiling was a hot topic around the time that I wrote this. Why do serial killers do what they do, scientifically speaking? I was inspired by that when I was working on Dio."

…Which leads me to believe that Araki did, in fact, research about this topic in order to write Dio.

Another interesting aspect of ASPD are the causes behind the disorder. As we all know, there's that pretty infamous scene in Phantom Blood where Speedwagon claims that Dio was born 'evil'. And what if I told you that he's half-right?

Let's look into the causes of ASPD:

First, we have the genetic factor, aka heritability, which is fairly straightforward: children of parents who suffer from ASPD have a way higher risk of developing it than children who don't; additionally, children of alcoholic parents are also at a higher risk.

And who is Dio's father? Dario Brando—an alcoholic scumbag who abused his son and wife, and was essentially responsible for her death after forcing her to work tirelessly. He was also more than ready to leave an infant to die after stealing his parents' valuables; his visible lack of empathy, alcoholism and violent behavior leads me to think that Dario himself suffers from ASPD, which he passed on to his son, Dio.

Then, we have the neurological and physiological factors; basically, there's studies that indicate that people with ASPD have decreased activity in the prefrontal cortex—the region of the brain that's responsible for emotional regulation, empathy, and impulse control.

Other studies show that imbalances in the neurotransmitter system, such as those involving serotonin and dopamine, have been associated with impulsivity, aggression, and antisocial behavior.

But there's more. It is a known fact that our environmental influences, especially during early childhood, play a crucial role in shaping our behavior. Research shows that adverse experiences such as neglect, abuse, poverty and exposure to violence in childhood can contribute to the development of ASPD.

Dio has gone through pretty much all of it as a child. Alongside growing up poor, he was physically and verbally abused by his father; I also think it's very likely that kid Dio also had to go through a fair bit of neglect after his mother's death, as we all know that Dario wasn't at all concerned in actually raising him.

So, was Dio actually born evil as Speedwagon claims? The answer is 'sort of'.

In my opinion, what happened was that Dio was born with some sociopathic tendencies (the genetic and neurophysiological factors I mentioned before) that were later exacerbated by his traumatic childhood experiences.

Of course, that isn't meant to excuse Dio's actions/behavior. He's an irredeemable monster, and that's part of why I like him so much.

#jjba #dio brando #character analysis

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cecilysass · 8 months ago

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Shine On (16/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 16: Crazy Diamond

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two hours later

It turns out that Bunny Man Bridge is just a bridge. And okay, it’s a little creepy-looking—a one lane road going into a yellowed concrete tunnel under a train overpass—but not very eventful on a sunny, late winter afternoon. There aren’t signs of apparitions, dead bodies, or even Satanic graffiti. Which Jackson finds kind of disappointing after all Mulder’s talk.

Mulder drones on about the telltale hallmarks of paranormal activity, but since most of them would have involved interviewing human witnesses, they don’t seem very promising to investigate. There’s no one around but Jackson, Mulder, and Scully. And interested squirrels.

Still, Jackson is enjoying the outing. He and Mulder scramble up to the top of the bridge and look around the railroad tracks for any clues. Scully watches from the road below, leaning against the car, smirking to herself. After a few minutes Mulder begins to call for the Bunny Man like a lost dog— “here, Mr. Bunny Man, come on, boy”—which makes Scully cover her mouth with her hand and laugh.

Mulder looks down from the bridge at her with this goofy little smile, a whole lot like he’s an eighth grader pleased with himself. Jackson tries hard not to shine the man’s mind, as he’s thinking a surprising quantity of inappropriate thoughts for an old guy.

He gets the basic gist, though—the important highlights. They’re back together.

Jackson can’t help but feel happy for them. Mulder’s hope is contagious. It’s everywhere in the man’s mind right now, even in the dirty parts. It’s inescapable, Mulder’s hope. Like an annoying mylar balloon that keeps floating into your face. Even shining him a little makes Jackson’s own emotions begin to feel lighter, too.

“Is the investigation over?” Scully calls up to them. “I’m hungry.” She cocks her head strategically. “We could go pick up fresh bagels.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “I could eat.”

“I think we’re just about wrapped up here,” Mulder calls back. “It’s going to be kind of a drive for bagels though. We’re in the country, Scully.”

She shrugs and smiles. From her pocket her phone starts to buzz, and she rushes to pull it out, sliding into the car to take the call. As Jackson understands it, she’s finishing up odds and ends of her hospital job before she goes back to the FBI.

Mulder regards Jackson seriously. “I’ve got to tell you, Jackson—I’m not noticing any classic signs,” he says, gesturing around them. “No change in temperature, no strange odor.” He points to the birds chirping in the trees around them. “I still hear local wildlife going strong.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says with a sigh. “Maybe the Bunny Man really does only show up on Halloween.”

Mulder’s eyes light up. “Well, possibly we could come back—” He stops himself, but it’s too late. Jackson knows exactly what he was going to say, and he knows exactly why he stopped.

They don’t know where Jackson will be at Halloween. That’s eight months away. He could very well be locked in a juvenile justice facility. That reality hasn’t gone away, however much Mulder and Jackson want to forget and play ghost hunter. Everyone keeps acting like Jackson is just going to stay here and play pretend son, but that’s just not the case.

Jackson has to turn away from Mulder now. Sometimes other people’s hope is painful.

They have to be careful on the way down; the embankment down the side of the bridge is steep. Jackson’s feet, skidding out of control, stumble the last few steps down, and Mulder grabs his arm to steady him.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackson mumbles.

Mulder’s thoughts are a burgeoning swell of concern, and Jackson knows he’s probably been doing a little shining. “Listen, Jackson—”

“You’ve actually seen ghosts before, right?” Jackson interrupts. He looks around at the wooded area around the bridge, then back at Mulder. “Not just read about them?”

Mulder considers him a moment. “I have, yes.”

“Who were the ghosts?” Jackson asks.

“The ghosts themselves? You mean in life?”

“Yeah. Did you know them?”

Mulder thinks about his answer. “One time it was a couple,” he says. “A couple who died together on Christmas.”

Jackson thinks about that for a moment, a couple who died together and spent eternity together, too. It seems like that might be good. Not entirely unhappy. He gets little visual flashes from Mulder’s memories, but he pushes them out—he’d rather make up his own little story about these ghosts.

“You never met the ghost of anyone you knew when they were alive?” Jackson asks. He hesitates. “Like … your own parents, maybe?”

Mulder’s head turns sharply to him. His gray-green eyes are sorrowful, then shift infinitesimally into sympathy and pity.

“Jackson,” he says, his words subdued, “you won’t get your parents back by searching for ghosts.”

A bird trills nearby, and Jackson’s gaze follows the sound. “Yeah,” he says.

His eyes again fill with tears. This is one of those things he knows he should know better about. Something he can see is a delusion—an idea gullible kids hold on to— but he wants to believe anyway. He wants to think that one day he might see his mom and dad again. How stupid, to imagine friendly ghosts who might pat him reassuringly on the shoulder and tell him it’s okay.

They both stand facing the steep bank of trees, saying nothing.

A very clear sentence runs through Mulder’s mind. If he were staying with us, I would make sure he got a new therapist.

Jackson can’t help but smile, wiping his tears. “If I were staying with you, I’d probably really need one.”

“Yeah.” Mulder snorts a laugh. “You probably would.”

***

Back in the car, Scully is sitting in the driver’s seat, unmoving, waiting for them. The radio is on, turned down very low, a murmur of voices.

“No ghosts,” Jackson informs her as he slides in the back. “Mulder says we can try Gadsby Tavern in Alexandria next time.”

“You all done with your call?” Mulder asks her, giving her a curious look. “Was it the hospital?”

“It wasn’t.” Scully says in a strange voice. “It was Skinner. He had news.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of news?”

“There’s been new evidence in the Van De Kamps’ case. Apparently a … witness remembers seeing a man wanted in Colorado in the neighborhood that morning, leaving the scene.”

“What?” Jackson inhales.

“The charges against Jackson have been dropped. He’s considered a missing child now. The Rawlins police are having a press conference, so it will be hitting the media today at some point.”

“A witness emerges from nowhere?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” Scully says, and Jackson watches her eyes latch on to his. “And Skinner says the name of this witness has been strangely hard to come by, even for the Bureau.”

“This is good news though,” Jackson insists. “Right? It means I’m free. It’s good.”

He looks from Scully to Mulder. They both turn to him in the backseat, their faces blooming in simultaneous smiles. They’re both holding something back, but they’re not insincere.

“It is, Jackson,” Scully agrees. “You’re right. It means you have a lot more options.” He senses her worry simmering underneath. Something wrong here. Another shoe about to drop.

“Maybe I can call people now,” Jackson says, his eyes darting hesitantly between them. “My friend Louis. Maybe my uncle Wyatt.”

“Probably very soon,” Mulder says, nodding. “I’d like to wait until we know … just a little more.”

“You’re both worried,” Jackson observes softly. “You think something is weird.”

There’s a silence in the car as Scully starts the engine.

“We’re cautious,” Mulder says. “Happy, but cautious.”

***

When they get home from their bagel pick up—and Mulder was right, it was kind of a drive to get to the place with good bagels—Jackson is washing his hands in the kitchen when he feels Rose’s tiny nudge into his mind.

Apparently she’s back at home now, wherever that is. She tells him to pass on some messages. He’s happy to hear from her. He badly wants to tell her his good news, but he thinks about what Mulder and Scully said, and he decides to wait a little.

Jackson can hear Mulder talking on the phone outside. Actually, he is apparently taking a break from talking to whoever is on the line to discuss something back and forth very animatedly with Scully. Neither one of them really holds back their opinion, he’s noticed.

He’s started to put together a few more pieces about them. For one, he’s been curious about how Mulder pays his bills. Jackson’s parents always were very careful about money—clipping coupons, thinking through monthly budgets—but Mulder thinks about money much less than most adults.

Jackson knows that Scully is a doctor, and Jackson understands that doctors make high salaries, which explains her nice car and nice clothes. But Mulder hasn’t seemed to have a regular job for years, and Jackson doesn’t think FBI agents make enough to retire decades early.

When they came home with their dozen bagels, Mulder and Scully went to call this lawyer right away, both of them very determined. From what Jackson can gather, it seems to be a lawyer associated with Mulder’s family. So, Jackson infers, Mulder comes from some kind of family money. He wonders why Mulder doesn’t use it to buy a fancier house or car.

As he selects another bagel, he wonders about Mulder’s family. Who were they? How did they get rich? He wonders about Scully’s family, too. What’s her mother like, the one who is still alive? He could probably ask them all of these questions now that he isn’t a wanted man. Maybe he could even meet the mysterious grandmother now.

Outside Mulder and Scully still seem deeply invested in talking to the lawyer, so Jackson plops down on the couch with his cinnamon raisin bagel.

Chewing silently, he remembers what Scully said about the media getting the story soon. He searches around for the remote and turns on Mulder’s TV, pressing buttons to find a news channel.

When he does, he can tell instantly: the story is public.

A blonde reporter clad in a bright blue coat stands on a snow-covered street in downtown Rawlins, with the words “New Development in Wyoming Murder Case: Police Apologize to Runaway Teen” sprawled underneath her. Jackson is so shocked to see the familiar storefronts of his hometown on the national news he can barely focus on the words.

“...police believe that the victims’ son fled out of fear, and they hope Jackson Van De Kamp will be found safely.”

One of the police officers who��d been at Jackson’s school that horrible day—Davis was his name, Jackson remembers—stands in front of a microphone, looking gray and stricken: “We admit when we make mistakes, and this was a mistake. Mr. Van De Kamp is innocent of all wrongdoing. In all likelihood, he’s a scared and grieving kid. If you can hear this, Jackson, buddy, we want you to come home.”

Jackson stares at the screen open-mouthed, clutching his half-eaten bagel tightly. The rest of the report seems to slide right past him.

“Was that it?” Scully says sharply from behind him. The news has moved on to something else. “Was that the story about you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, his voice sounding like a small boy’s.

Scully walks around and sits down next to him on the couch. She picks up the remote and switches the TV off.

She peers at his face. “Are you okay, Jackson?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “The police … uh, begged me … to come home. To Wyoming.”

Scully’s eyes are so wide, so icy blue—exactly like Rose’s. They run all over him, as if studiously taking in every detail.

“Do you want to go back?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, blinking.

She picks up his plate off of the coffee table, offering it to him. He sets his bagel down on it dazedly. She replaces the plate on the table.

“You have some decisions to make, Jackson,” she says, her voice gentle. “Not all of them right away. But you do have some decisions to make.”

Mulder appears behind her, his hand reaching for her shoulder. He’s watching Jackson closely, too.

“We spoke to the lawyer about the … custody possibilities,” Scully says. Jackson recognizes suddenly that she’s very nervous. He can feel fear starting to roll off of her in steady waves. “It’s most likely a relative has official custody of you now. Probably your uncle Wyatt?”

Jackson nods slowly. He can’t think of who else would.

“We can talk to your uncle about other possibilities,” Scully says carefully. “Living with us. Short term … or longer term. There are a range of options in the kind of relationship you could have with us. You could just do visits. We could have some kind of shared custody. There’s, uh, more permanent arrangements. Like legal guardianship. Adoption.” She swallows. Her fear is pulsing around Jackson now like a heartbeat. “I don’t know how your uncle will feel about any of this, but we thought we’d check with you before pursuing anything else. We want you to be the one … in the driver’s seat.”

Jackson reaches out his hand to rest on her arm. He doesn’t want her to be so terrified. It’s stupid. Unnecessary. Of course he wants to live with them. She stills at his touch, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want to see Uncle Wyatt—like, for visits. He’s family. But I’d like to stay here. If that’s possible, I mean.”

Scully seems unable to suppress her initial reaction: she bursts into a pink-cheeked smile; she exchanges a quick, amazed look with Mulder. Her hand covers Jackson’s, and he can feel her intentionally calming herself down. “We’re happy you feel like that, of course. But that was … a fast decision. Are you sure? You can think about it. All the time you need.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” He tries to make his own tone sound casual, breezy. “Uncle Wyatt has too many dogs and goes to a crazy church,” he says with a shrug. “And I don’t think he’ll argue with you too much if you say you want me to live here. I broke his big screen TV once, and he thinks I’m annoying.”

Jackson doesn’t say everything he’s thinking. That he would actually really like to see what it would be like to be part of their family. That he’d like to know what love felt like, everyday, with them. That he thinks it would be easy, somehow—much easier than he might have expected. That he thinks he understands now that this new relationship with them has nothing to do with replacing his parents.

Mulder’s smile is so wide that Jackson suspects he eavesdropped. “We’d love to have you, Jackson,” he says.

“We’ll talk to your uncle,” adds Scully. “We can be more specific about your options after that.”

“Rose said she could teach you more about how to block me, you know,” Jackson tells them tactfully. “So you wouldn’t have to worry as much about… not having privacy. You know.”

Scully flushes, and Mulder hides a smile. “That might be nice,” Scully says.

“She also said there was a really good STEM high school in Alexandria,” Jackson suggests with more feigned disinterest.

“Rose is full of advice,” Mulder observes wryly.

“Yep,” Jackson agrees. “I got a message from her, by the way.” He eyes the bagel on his plate again. “When you all first went in to call the lawyer.”

“Really?” Mulder says. “A … psychic message?”

“That sounds kind of overdramatic,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes and picking his bagel back up. “But yeah. She said she was home.”

“Good,” Scully says. “That’s good.” She throws Mulder a glance.

“She also said to tell you something, Scully.”

“She … did?”

“She said to tell you that they listened to her.” He looks at Scully to see if that’s meaningful, but her face looks blank. “Rose said that … she told them what she wanted, and they listened.”

He shrugs, deciding it doesn’t matter that much, and he takes a big bite of the bagel. Scully has a point about getting them fresh, he decides. They taste so much better this way. You could only get bagels in a bag at the grocery store in Rawlins.

A plummeting feeling from the pit of Scully’s stomach makes him look up.

“What?” Mulder asks her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Scully’s face has lost color. “No. I just …”

“Who listened to her?” Mulder insists. “What does that message mean?”

“I asked her … if the Walled Garden leaders listened to her,” Scully says in a low voice. “If they respected her.”

Jackson swallows part of his bagel so he’s able to talk. Through a mouthful: “You think she asked the Walled Garden for something she wanted?”

Mulder stares at Jackson, and then turns back to Scully, his eyes widening. “You think she asked them for something she wanted,” he repeats in a low voice, realizing. “Oh wow.”

“This morning, she said she was going home to take care of something,” Scully whispers, her eyes on him.

Jackson swallows his last mouthful. “What?”

“So she goes home,” Mulder says in disbelief to Scully. “And within a few hours…”

“Is it possible, Mulder?”

Jackson finally gets it. “You think she asked the Walled Garden to make sure the charges were dropped against me. Don’t you?”

Scully and Mulder are still looking hard at one another. “It happened so fast,” Mulder says. “All in less than six hours. If it was really the machinations of the Walled Garden…”

“They have an alarming amount of power,” says Scully. “Over multiple entities of government. An amount of power comparable to…”

“The Syndicate.” Mulder sits next to them on the couch, puts his head in his hands. “Can this be true? I don’t know what to make of an organization like this. They’re not even… strictly human. But they may be involved in… it’s overwhelming.”

They don’t say anything for a moment, looking dazed. Jackson watches them both in profile, unsure what to say.

“What do we do, Scully?” Mulder says.

She looks away, towards the window. There are entire worlds—entire universes—in Scully’s eyes. Jackson feels weirdly like his shine is lost in something enormous.

“I guess it’s fortunate there’s an investigative unit of the FBI qualified to keep an eye on them,” Scully says slowly and resolutely at last.

She turns and picks up Mulder’s hand. He lifts his head out of his hands and meets her stare.

“And keep an eye on Rose, too?” Jackson says incredulously.

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder, a strange finality. “And keep an eye on Rose.”

A fierce undertow of worry from Scully. But is Rose on the right side? How could we convince her? What if Rose were involved with something fundamentally wrong? What about any other members of the Walled Garden Mulder might feel connected to?

They’re frighteningly powerful anxieties, and Jackson doesn’t even understand some of them. They’re shot through with the stinging, luminous heat of her love. But weirdly he doesn’t feel himself getting drawn into these anxieties right now, even though he’s prone to worrying himself.

It’s just the more overwhelming emotion coming at him right now is what’s coming from Mulder. This ridiculous hopefulness. Bigger and more buoyant than ever. It fills up, expands and crowds out all competing feelings.

Jackson isn’t sure if Mulder is essentially being like a gullible kid—if he wants to believe things that aren’t true just to comfort himself. If that’s true, he is much, much better at it than Jackson. Because every cell in his body seems to be singing the same song: somehow, this will be okay. Somehow, what's wrong is going to get better. Jackson decides Mulder feeling like this is a good thing, even if it's not an entirely logical or sane thing.

As Mulder draws Scully into his side, and suggests they watch his favorite movie—some old movie about space that Scully protests vehemently—Jackson notices the influence of Mulder’s hope beginning to work on her, too. She’s arguing back, but she’s starting to relax, too. She’s got this little smile on her lips. Her anxieties are receding, falling into the background.

Jackson pulls his knees up at his end of the couch and stops listening to their good-natured argument. He wonders how it would be received if he asked if his friend Louis could come visit some time. He has a brilliant idea about splashing red paint around the inside of the Bunny Man Bridge and freaking the shit out of Louis. It would be hilarious. Also, he’d just like to see Louis. He misses him.

Mulder and Scully want Jackson to be the tie-breaker in deciding the movie. They both look over and ask him, with curious faces, what he wants to watch.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Finding Nemo,” he suggests at once. “Or The Incredibles.”

“Aren’t those kid movies?” Mulder asks suspiciously.

“Not ... entirely,” Jackson says.

“What are they about, then?”

Jackson considers his answer a minute and lands upon the right words. “They’re about doing crazy shit for your family.”

He wins.

***

Y'all, thank you so much for reading. I’m truly grateful for all of your encouraging, supportive notes and tags. You have no idea what they mean.

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival #my fic #shine on

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chaifootsteps · 3 months ago

Note

Hi hi! It's me, Concerned Anon (Directed to the Anon who had expressed feeling threatened.). The doc I created is NOT meant to harass people. I am fine with regular people in the fandom, it's extended to people like DJ and the like. I scrolled through the Doc and there's nothing of the sorts threatening people to off themselves.

If that's the case, then I would remove it. This is towards Chai as I treat him as a source. I feel like most people assume the Doc has content that's "Extreme as all hell" when in reality my language is only directed at people who commit actual crimes, I am not that extreme with my beliefs and anyone who name drops me on twitter for "threatening behavior" is only spreading false narratives and this ask is meant to clarify some things.

I do not care for the tame side of the fandom, as long as your not doing anything shitty and bad then it's fine by me.

The beginning of the Doc has stated numerous times to not harass others or send any hate. Hence: "If you are reading this with the full intent to harass anyone in the critic community or even outside of, then don’t. Especially if you follow Viv’s work and worship her. This will only further add more to the document and cause more issues than not. This document is meant to inform and educate/help others and make sure that Viv doesn’t get away with anything, as much as you like to not listen to what has been said, just act civilly and don’t act like it’s the end of the world because someone says VivziePop’s writing is bullshit. This will also serve as an open letter of some sorts, a walking, living, reading example of what the fanbase has done, that if VivziePop tries anything, we can show this document. You can still like her work and be critical of it, no one’s forcing you to not like it. "

The end of the Doc has a harsh message to the more "messed up side" as usual, most of us cannot control who comes to who, but we can also tell people to NOT harass others.

I do not intend to spread hate, if anything I am harsh on people like DJ, Dani and the creator.

My blog is not a Critic Space, nor do I intend for it to be that way. People who clarify this post as me being "harsh" hasn't read the full doc and are going off what Fans are saying.

I am simply only harsh to people who harass others for opinions, Dox, send death threats etc. Anything as a result of my Doc is my bad. But it's not in bad faith. I am simply doing my due diligence of cleaning up the Fandom, and if you haven't done anything wrong then I see no point in worrying.

I know this ask targeted to Chai, but this is for everyone whose worried. I am not some crazy "Critic" I am just someone whose Mentally Ill, with several disabilities who have been mistreated by the fandom and keeping archives.

By all accounts I am a normal human being. I just want to post Dragon Ball, not be called someone who wants to "hurt others" (trust me, the last time I did I ended up in the loony bin. I literally had the FBI shown up to my place."

So yeah, Doc isn't meant to sent any harassment, and if there's people doing that, cut that out. I am not dealing with this shit right now, as I already got alot on my hand.

I once again want to apologize if my "posts" causes issues. Not my intentions.

--Cooler's Malewife, Anon

Passing this along even though I have absolutely no idea what doc you're referring to. It sounds fair to people who enjoy the shows though, which is the way it should be.

#Anonymous #Concerned Anon #actual blog post #viv stuff

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the-guilty-writer · 2 years ago

Text

The Washington Tales

Request from anon: Could you perhaps write something about how the reader is Spencer’s kid and they don’t like how he always gets up and goes on cases and they’re stuck alone or with a babysitter so they try to make a point by running away and Spencer has to rush home?

Spencer Reid x teen!reader

Summary: Spencer's busy schedule leaves you feeling lonely. You run away, finding company in an old friend.

A/N: Alright if I'm gonna write Spencer I'm writing full on super-nerd-dad Spencer. We all know that this man is a total dork and i'm running with it. Only real ones will understand the title reference.

CW: reader feeling lonely, running away, nerd level is through the roof.

---

Spencer heard his phone ringing insistently behind him. He had already let it go to voicemail twice and the sound of the plastic against the table was beginning to interrupt his concentration. He turned away from the evidence board and moved towards the table to see who needed him so desperately while he was working.

“You better have not given my number out again, Morgan,” Reid said, recalling their past prank war.

“I never use the same prank twice, pretty boy,” Morgan said, not looking up from his files.

When Spencer saw that the number was your school he automatically became concerned. Your teachers were worried that you were beginning to fall behind on your assignments. They wanted to set up a parent conference with him, but the team had been so loaded with cases he simply didn’t have the time. He didn’t even have time for this phone call if he was being honest, but he picked it up anyway.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he said, still in professional mode instead of dad mode from working on the case for so long.

“Dr. Reid,” the lady on the phone started. “We’re calling because your child, (Y/N) Reid, never showed up for school this morning.”

“Pardon?” Spencer said.

“They’re absent from school today,” the lady told him.

“Okay, thank you.” He hung up the phone and went to dial Garcia.

“What is it?” Morgan asked.

“(Y/N) didn’t go to school this morning,” Spencer told him. Morgan gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve reached the FBI’s office of supreme genius, how may I serve you today?” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, can you track (Y/N)’s phone. They didn’t show up to school today,” he said.

“Sure thing… annnddddd they’re at your apartment.”

Spencer sighed. “Thanks, Garcia.” As soon as he hung up he called you, but you didn’t answer. He tried again, just for good measure, but he didn’t bother leaving a voicemail. There was a real possibility that you hadn't charged your phone- another bad habit you had fallen into recently. Instead, he texted the babysitter- you were old enough that you didn’t need one, but he hired a nice lady to check on you in the evenings just to make sure you were okay. He let her know the situation and to tell you to call him when she saw you that night.

---

When Spencer’s phone rang again he was still looking at the evidence board, trying to piece together the case. He averted his view from the crime scene photos to answer the call.

“Dr. Reid,” the babysitter sounded panicked and upset. “Dr. Reid, they’re gone.”

“Wait, slow down,” Spencer said as calmly as possible. “What happened?”

Now it sounded like the babysitter was close to tears. “I came into the apartment to check on (Y/N) and they aren’t here! They just left a note that says “Farewell, I am gone.” signed with their initials. Dr. Reid, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer felt a strange feeling bubble in his gut- a note could mean a million things. “It’s not your fault,” he told the babysitter. “But I need you to send me a picture of the note, okay? As clear as you can possibly get it.”

“Oh-okay.” She sniffled and Spencer heard rustling on the other end of the line before receiving the picture.

“Thank you,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Go home and get some rest.” He hung up before she could reply.

He didn’t want to tell the babysitter that a note usually meant one of two things- either you’d been kidnapped and coerced into writing something to make it seem as if you had run away, or you had actually run away. And it didn’t take an expert in handwriting analysis to see that the note you had left was freely written.

“Damn it.” He wanted to say some other words as well, but Hotch had just walked into the room.

“What is it, Reid?” he asked.

“(Y/N) ran away.” Spencer looked desperately between his phone and the evidence board. Now, instead of his brain being too preoccupied with work all he could feel was worry. Anything could have happened to you and you had obviously been gone since this morning, but there was a chance that you had fled after the babysitter left you alone the previous night. You could have been anywhere.

“Go home,” Hotch told him. He tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs. “It’s about a seven hour drive back to Virginia. Get Garcia to help you.”

Reid thanked his boss and got into the car. He had never been one to speed, much less speed and talk on the phone at the same time, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Garcia looked through everything- people you could have called, public transportation you might have taken, even going as far as to hack into the security cameras at your favorite bookstore- but the only trace you had left was that you had pulled some money from an ATM.

Spencer drove straight to the apartment and looked around for any clues you may have left about where you were going, but there was nothing except the note. You hadn’t packed a bag and the amount of money you had wasn’t enough to sustain you for very long. You couldn’t have gone far. It wasn’t like his mom could take care of you and surely if you had showed up at one of your friend’s houses their parents would have called him. His brain was working at a million miles an hour, trying to think of where you could have possibly gone.

“Reid,” Garcia said, sympathetically, “I know I’m not a parent and I’m not a profiler, but have you ever stopped to think about why (Y/N) ran away?”

“I-” He paused, thinking about your behavior in the past few months. It wasn’t just the trouble at school- it was also not wanting to watch TV with him when he was home or even making dinner for yourself and not waiting until he got home to eat together. The team had been so busy that he had pulled away… and you had pulled away from him too. “I’ll call you back, Garcia.”

Spencer ran out of the apartment and back down to the car. He knew where you had gone. It was where he would have gone too.

---

You weren’t sure if there was a place you loved more than the Library of Congress. The building itself was glorious; looking as though someone had carved it all out of one massive slab of stone. The columns stretched tall and strong, supporting arches painted like tiles. Grand floors were patterned with shapes that fit together like a mosaic.

But it was the soul of the building that you really loved- being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of books that each had something to teach or a story to tell. You remembered coming there with your dad when you were younger and him telling you that as long as you had a good book in your hand you would never be alone. So of course when you felt most alone you went somewhere full of things that couldn’t possibly make you feel lonely- but the your heart still felt as empty as the apartment. At the moment, your only friend was fiction.

“Oh, (Y/N) dear, we’re closed!” One of the librarians rushed up to you. She had known you since Spencer began taking you there as a baby. She had watched your taste in literature change from picture books all the way to helping you find a copy of a research paper you had wanted to write about for school.

You looked down a bit sadly. “I know visiting hours are up, but can I stay just a bit longer? My dad is away on a case again and I could use some company.”

The librarian smiled at you, the lines in her face far more prominent than they had been when you were little. “Of course. As long as you put your favorite friend away when you’re done.” She winked at you behind wire framed glasses and walked in the opposite direction.

The library was large enough to get lost in, but you knew where you were going like the back of your hand- It was the same book that you pulled out every time your dad was away. Not wanting to go all the way to the reading room, you sat down on the floor before carefully flipping through the book’s pages and beginning to read through something you so badly wished was being read to you instead.

---

Footsteps echoed through the library, coming slowly up behind you. You expected it to be a security guard, telling you that it was time for the library to rest for the night, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the echoing stopped and you heard your dad’s voice.

“Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon/Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.”

You turned to look at your dad. He was still wearing his work attire, his hair a tangled mess of brown curls, but even in the dim light of the library you could see the small smile on his face.

You scowled. “Though there was nowhere one so busy as he/ He was less busy than he seemed to be,” you retored and went back to your reading.

You heard Spencer sigh before walking up and taking a seat beside you. “I’m not busy now.”

“It’s a bit late for that, dad.” You didn’t take your eyes off the pages, but you were no longer reading the words, tears building up in your eyes.

Spencer gently pulled the book from your hands and closed it. “You know,” he started. “When you were little, Garcia bought you a box set of Dr. Seuss books. I thought you would be so excited to see all the fun pictures and colors, but every time you were given a choice, you always asked me to read you this.” He held up the book- The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. "Please tell me what's going on," he said quietly.

You turned away, not wanting your dad to see that you were crying. “I miss you, dad. You’re never around anymore and I get really lonely without you.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged a little helplessly. “You catch criminals and save people. I can’t just ask you to stay home because I’m sad you’re gone.” It came out a bit sarcastic, but the tears were still real.

Spencer took a handkerchief from his pocket and softly dried your eyes before offering the book back to you. “Page 549, paragraph 2, last sentence.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and turned to the page, tracing your finger down to the location he had told you. As you read the line in your head, your dad said it outloud:

“Amour vincit omnia: Love conquers all.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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specialagentlokitty · 10 months ago

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Hannibal lector x reader - unravelling

Part 1:

Sitting down on the back of the bench, you rested your arms on your knees as you glanced at the man next to you, taking the coffee cup from him to drink some.

“You know we can’t survive on coffee alone, when are you going to actually eat a proper meal?”

“Shut up Kyle.”

He grinned a little at you, taking the coffee cup back to take a sip from it.

“You coming by later?”

You nodded your head, grabbing his arm so you could take a look at his watch.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“So you’re not blowing off your boss? Or your therapy?”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even go into it.”

“I won’t, but I reckon those three might.”

He pointed to the side and you turned to look at the three men walking over and you sighed heavily, snatching the coffee cup from him, downing the rest.

“Come on! That was mine!” Kyle whined.

“I’ll buy you another, I’m going to need it trust me.”

He hummed a little bit, standing up, holding his fist out to you.

“Catch you on the other side.”

You nodded, tapping your fist against his, and he mock saluted to three that had stopped just in front of you before he walked away.

You turned to the three that had came over.

“What?” You asked.

“Hannibal says you’ve been avoiding your therapy sessions.” Will frowned.

You shrugged a little bit, running a hand through your hair, climbing down from the bench in front of them all.

Crossing your arms, you turned your attention to Jack, narrowing your eyes a little bit.

“Told you I’m not part of the FBI anymore, stop getting involved in my life.”

“We’re concerned, we’re your friends, we want to make sure you’re alright and we can’t do that if you keep declining all of our calls.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve thought about that before you sent me on a case alone without backup.”

Walking past, you stopped by Hannibal, offering him a small nod of your head.

“Doctor Lector, I’d appreciate if you cancelled all future appointments.”

“Perhaps we could talk about this beforehand?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything as you walked away, making your way to the bar you had began to call a second home, sitting yourself on a stool.

“The usual?” The woman asked.

“And a cigarette if you’ve got one Anna.”

She smiled at you, sliding a glass over to you, and you took a sip from it, taking the cigarette she had just lit.

You took a drag, and pointed to a few of the bottles behind her.

“Might wanna hide them.”

“Doves?”

You shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket to show her all of the missed calls and texts from everybody.

She nodded, placing all the things under the counter, and she leant over it, taking your phone so she could read through everything.

“You ever thought maybe therapy could help?”

“With that? It isn’t going to lead me to the person I’m looking for.”

She gave a small nod.

“Maybe not, but come on (Y/N) we all know what you’ve been through. It could help make everything clear. You’re so hell bent on this you’re going to get yourself killed doing it.”

You glared a little bit at Anna.

“I don’t care, the asshole that fucked my life deserves the same amount of shit that I’ve been through.”

She sighed softly, pulling at your longish hair a little bit.

“Can I at least give you a haircut, this is getting out of hand and you look like you live in the wild.”

“What you thinking?”

She hummed a little bit, walking around the bar and stood in front of you with her hands on her hips as she tilted her head to the side.

“I’m kind of thinking a mullet, you know like shave around the sides, you can still style it however you want. Plus I really want to see if it’s gonna grow back white or (H/C).”

You laughed a little, shrugging your shoulders.

“Go nuts Anna, do whatever.”

She grinned brightly, and dragged a chair over to the middle of the bar, and you sat on it while you waited for her to finish with your hair.

You were just having a small talk with her while she cut your hair, and when she finished she ruffled it, handing you a mirror while she cleaned up.

You looked at it, brushing your hair aside to look at the shaved sides, and you stood up, setting the mirror on the chair.

Bending your head down, you ruffled your hair for a few seconds before standing up, brushing it back with your hand.

“I like it, it’s refreshing to have a new look in a way.”

“Wasn’t a hairdresser for years for no reason.”

“It’s still weird you decided to open a bar for ghouls instead but you do you Anna.”

She laughed, going back behind the bar and held up your phone that had started to ring again.

“It’s your therapist.”

“Decline it.”

She hung up on Hannibal, and you stayed there for a few hours, meeting Kyle there for a little while before heading back to your apartment.

You went for a shower, and stood in front of the covered mirror as you dried your hair, tossing the towel aside as you pulled a sweater on, trying not to look at the large scar across your stomach.

Leaving your bathroom, you went to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee, and you walked to the living room to turn on the Tv while you waited for it to be ready.

“Hey.”

You turned to the front door, looking at the slightly beat up man that walked through.

“Doves?”

“More and more out each day. Here.”

He tossed your a neatly wrapped package in brown paper, and you caught it, heading to the kitchen to put it on a plate.

You grabbed your coffee and plate, sitting down to eat while you watched whatever was going on with the world at the moment.

Finishing the food you were given you set the plate down, picking up your coffee cup, taking a couple of sips as your roommate came back out.

“Seriously don’t leave that shit laying around.”

He took your plate, going to wash it for you.

“Sam?”

You heard him hum a little bit.

“Anna said I should stop hunting the man who did this to me.”

“Do you think you should?”

He walked out from the kitchen, leaning against the doorway, crossing his arms.

“No. I mean come on, if he did this to me then who knows how many he’s already done this too, or how many more he’s planning.”

Sam nodded his head.

“Do you think he’ll do it again?”

“You’ve got to be seriously fucked to put ghoul organs in a human just to see if it would work.”

Sam sighed a little bit, walking over to sit in front of you on the table.

“All I’ll say is don’t act rashly (Y/N), with the doves crawling about, on the hunt for ghouls, trying to track down members of the hell hounds. Which means you’re in twice as much danger.”

You sighed, nodding your head as you slumped back into the couch.

“Look, I’m going to do whatever I have to do Sam, plus you didn’t have to follow me.”

“Considering you’re still pretty new to our world, and you’re currently running ranks in the biggest ghoul organisation in the state, and you just took over three wards of the city, I’m going to say I did.”

You smiled a little bit.

“You’re a good friend.”

He shrugged a little bit.

“It’s easier to pay rent with you living here, so can’t exactly have you dying on me.”

“Wow, okay and I thought we were friends.”

He scoffed a little bit.

“Yeah, liked I’d be friends with a once human. That’s gross.”

“Aw come on Sam!”

You reached out to hug him and he pushed you back down on the couch, standing up as there was a knock on the door.

“Get away from me.”

You chuckled a little bit, watching as he went to answer the door, and you got up to go make yourself some more coffee.

You took a deep breath, and froze slightly, turning your attention to the doorway as Sam and Will appeared.

“Visitor.”

“Thanks Sam. Coffee?”

“Going to the bar.”

You nodded, turning to Will, gesturing to the coffee and he nodded his head so you made him a cup as well, handing it over to him.

You walked back to the couch, sitting down, and he sat down where Sam had been sat a few minutes ago.

“You cut your hair. Why?”

“It was about time, it was getting in the way. Why’re you here Will?”

He set his cup down.

“Because you need help, your accident was nearly two years ago (Y/N), you quite the FBI just over a year ago, now you’re abandoning your therapy?”

“I don’t need therapy, I’m fine.”

“You went missing for three months.”

“Needed time away.”

You took a sip of your coffee.

“You moved apartments, changed your whole friend group, appearance. I know you (Y/N), I grew up with you and this isn’t you.”

“Look Will, I got my life you have yours. Leave it at that.”

He shook his head.

“No. No something is off about you. Different.”

“Yeah, I was in an accident were I was in a horrific car accident. I think that kind of shit changes people Will.”

“That’s why you need to talk to Hannibal, come on please. The FBI are paying for it, so you don’t have to worry about that. You won’t talk to me, so please talk to somebody.”

Will looked at you, white hair, emotionless (E/C) eyes, you looked paler and skinner than the last time he had seen you a few months ago.

“I don’t recognise you anymore…” he whispered.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s for the better.”

You downed your coffee, and went back into the kitchen hoping that he would get the hint and leave, but he didn’t.

He walked into the kitchen, standing against the counter.

“Please just come by Hannibal’s office tomorrow evening. Think about it (Y/N), we all want to help you.”

Will gave you a small smile and he left, leaving you to think about what he had said.

You spent the whole night awake thinking about it as you sat at your desk, going through your medical files like you did every night.

Nothing ever changed, you never saw anything different, but you kept looking just in case.

You didn’t leave your room at all the following day, your phone kept lighting up with texts telling you to meet Will and Hannibal’s office.

As evening rolled around, you finally left your room, making your way into the living room where Sam was sat on the couch.

“Some dude came looking for your earlier, told him you weren’t home.”

“Will?”

“Jack Crawford. Wanted to talk to you about the accident.”

You hummed a little, grabbing your jacket.

“Going out.”

Sam pushed himself up, grabbing his own jacket as he trailed after you, hands stuffed in his pockets as he followed you out to the street where you melted into the people walking by.

“You don’t have to follow me.”

Sam didn’t say anything, and you glanced back at him before going back to walking about.

“Seriously? You called Kyle?”

“Not letting you walk around undefended in this state of mind.”

“I have to agree with hardass here.” Kyle said.

You sighed a little, crossing boundaries into the ward that had been overrun by ghouls.

It was mostly abandoned by people now, and as you emerged on the otherside of the alleyway you pulled on your skull mask, pulling on your gloves.

A few ghouls stopped to glance at you but didn’t do anything, and you carried on walking to the old fountain, and you sat down.

“Don’t often see you around these parts.” Someone spoke.

You flicked your gaze up to the hooded figure, and you shrugged a little bit.

“Have you found anything?”

“Nothing new, got some inside intel about the doves wanting to do a takedown of this ward, but they can’t organise a task force big enough. They’re spreading into the fourth and fifth wards though.”

You nodded your head.

“Keep away from them, don’t interact unless you have too. Got it?”

“That’s no fun.”

You stood up, turning to face him.

“Listen to me, do. Not. Interact. Got it?” You said lowly.

He grumbled a little bit but nodded his head, agreeing with you.

“Whatever you say Grimm, I’ll pass the message along.”

“Good, if I heard about anyone fucking with the doves on purpose I’ll personally deal with them.”

“I expect nothing else.”

You carried on wondering around for a little while until you finally left the ward, hiding your mask in your jacket again as you made your way back into normal public.

Kyle and Sam were still close behind you, and you turned to Kyle.

“Can you ask Anna to keep an ear to the ground?”

“Yeah, will do.”

He wondered away, and Sam stepped in line with you.

Neither of you said anything, but when you went to walk back home he grabbed the back of your jacket, directing you down a different path instead.

“What the hell?”

“Get your ass into that damn therapists office, I can’t be having them coming by every day.”

He pushed you into the building and you sighed, walking to the office you had been avoiding and knocked on the door.

After hearing Hannibal call for you to come in, you pushed the door open, walking in with Sam behind you, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall.

“I see you brought a friend.” Hannibal said.

“I see you brought two.”

“We just want to talk, that’s all.” Jack said gently.

You turned around to look at Sam, and he left the room, leaving the four of you alone and you walked over, sitting down in the chair Hannibal offered you.

“What is there to talk about?”

“Your spiralling path into self destruction.” Jack sighed

#Hannibal #hannibal x reader #Hannibal x you #hannibal imagine #Hannibal lector #hannibal lector x reader #Hannibal lector x you #Hannibal lector imagine

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