#banks rossi.

[riverofrainbows]

Watching copaganda shows really makes you appreciate your rights just so much more. Right now they're investigating some guy on a hunch from one fbi agent, illegally, hacking his personal information and violating soo many laws because one of the fbi guys had a dream and he just decided to do this, off the books, and his colleagues of course supported him both personally and with government resources. And of course, because it's a copaganda show, they were right in the hunch, and uncovered the details of a heinous crime. But all i can see is some cop investigating a random person because he found them a target of his bigotry (and i know this already blatantly happens with people getting picked up for ""loitering"' etc and worse). But copaganda shows really do try to sell you that as good and righteous, and it makes me feel like I'm being gaslighted by a clown that is trying to convince me that rights are overrated.

[eidetic187]

Crimi.nal mi.nds ac.e atto.rney au

[auroralwriting]

hii!! this is so random but i just read ur spencer reid x genius! reader fic and i was wondering if u could like expand on it?? or like maybe the team finding out that they went on a date and everyone is like oh gosh finally?? thank u and i love ur writing :P

wedding bells

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

part two to the gun, can be read as a standalone

spencer and you were enemies, now, you’re just into each other. what happens when you show up to jj's wedding as each other's dates?

word count: 1.6k

warnings: the most insane amount of tooth rotting fluff (you're welcome)

thank you for this request! i decided to expand even more and connect it back to the actual episode i wrote about, 7x24 :)

It had been about two weeks since you’d gotten out of the hospital from your last case; the bank robbery. You managed to get out with a couple of stitches and bruises. You were lucky to be alive.

The one good thing that came from the whole ordeal was the fact that you and Spencer, who was your previous academic-agent enemy, had turned into somewhat of your lover.

It started with trivia night at O’Keefe’s. The two of you decided to just pair rather than join a large team, and you kicked ass. You allowed Spencer to handle more of the academic side of trivia while you took pop culture. Quite literally, you were the only team with points.

That date went so well, that you ended up going out to dinner at the new Chinese place by Spencer’s apartment. That one went great too, and a third came along, a simple date that included Spencer taking you to an art museum.

You actually got to know Spencer, and he got to know you. Sure, you’d been team mates for years, but with suck a strong rivalry, you never got to know the man. You were both eerily alike, and things were going great. There had been no cases, Strauss gave your team a break after JJ’s boyfriend had almost died, along with you.

Spencer and you were at his place watching Doctor Who when you got a phone call. You picked it up, “Hey, Rossi.” The tv was paused and Spencer was looking at you expectantly. “Mhm.. mh- Oh my god! Oh, Rossi. That’s such a good idea. Yes, I’ll be there. I’m, uh, actually with Spencer, so I’ll pass on the message.” Spencer raised an eyebrow at you as you hung up. "Okay, don't freak out, but JJ and Will are engaged."

"What!" Spencer exclaimed with a bright smile. "Oh my god!"

"And Rossi and Will are planning for the wedding to be this Friday," You continued. "JJ doesn't know yet, so we have to keep it a secret."

"Speaking of secrets," Spencer coyly began, "Does Rossi know about, well, us?"

You chuckled, "I didn't tell him, but he knows we've been together more. Significantly more,"

"I've been thinking," Spencer said. "What if we don't keep this a secret anymore."

The only reason it was a secret in the first place was because the team would freak out if they knew you were going out. "I don't think now's the best time to tell them. We don't want to steal JJ's thunder." you frowned.

"No, no!" Spencer quickly shook his head. He grabbed both your hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. "Do you want to be my date to their wedding?"

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, Spence. I'd love to be your date." You smiled brightly.

The wedding was only three days away, and you were quick to go out with Penelope to buy a dress. You wanted something elegant that wouldn't take away from JJ, so you decided on a flowey, burgundy-maroon dress. It was formal, but nothing too glamorous. The whole time, Penelope kept rambling about how since she and Kevin were no more, the two of you could be girl-dates. You casually agreed, not wanting to give up Spencer and your cover yet.

You'd asked Spencer if he wanted to see your outfit on Thursday, but he wanted it to be a surprise. So, with Pen, you both did each other's hair, makeup, and got ready. You arrived together at the Rossi mansion to make everything less conspicuous.

"Oh my god!" Penelope whisper yelled. "Kevin has a date--a date!" She grabbed you and dragged you to Emily and Morgan in a panic. "He brought a date, and I didn't bring a boy date, oh my god I look like an idiot!"

"Pen, you don't look like an idiot." You rubbed her arm softly. "He's the real idiot for moving on so damn fast."

Emily nodded, "And you look so gorgeous, I bet he can't help but think about you. Play it cool."

Penelope took a large sip of her drink. "I'm- I'm gonna go, go somewhere, uh, somewhere he's not."

"Hi, Penelope!" Beth, Hotch's new girlfriend, said cheerfully as she walked up.

"Hey, hi," Penelope quickly walked off.

Beth gave a soft laugh, "Hello everybody."

You smiled and pulled her into a hug, "Ex problems, don't mind her. Hi Beth, and hi Hotch. You both look great."

"Says you! You look absolutely stunning! That is so your color." Beth smiled as she took your hand to spin you around lightly.

The three of you said hello to Jack as well. As the group began to disperse, you quickly spotted Rossi. You made your way over to him, a smile on his face. Rossi was like a father to you. Growing up under his help and guidance, he was more than just a mentor. "Oh, honey. Look at you, you look so grown up."

"Dave, I've been grown up for a lot of years now." You laughed as he kissed your cheek. "Have you seen Spencer by chance?"

"Not yet," Rossi replied. He raised an eyebrow at you, studying your face. "You two are together, aren't you?"

A look of panic crossed your features. "Shh!" You quickly hushed, looking around to see if anyone noticed. When they didn't you turned back to him. "We've been going out on dates, hanging out. That sort of thing. We aren't.. boyfriend-girlfriend."

"I'm happy for you two," Rossi smiled. "You two make a good pair, especially now that you aren't planning each other's murders."

"Who was murdered?"

You turned around to see Spencer standing behind you. His eyes went wide when he saw you. The way you turned, bright eyed and graceful, it made his heart leap in his chest, especially when you looked so ethereal.

Spencer breathed your name softly, looking to Rossi. You gave a small nod, letting him know that Rossi knew. He walked over, giving you a small hug to secretly press a kiss into your hair. The two of you hadn't really kissed yet, but you knew it would happen soon.

"You're an angel," Spencer softly spoke, caressing your cheek as you smiled.

"You look amazing, too." You replied.

Rossi and Spencer gave each other a quick hello before he excused himself to go reveal to JJ that this was her wedding night. It only took a few minutes and JJ ran up to you. You hugged her before she could say anything.

"You knew?" Her voice cracked, but you knew it was from joy.

"We all did," You smiled. "Hey, while you and Will get ready, let Spence watch over Henry."

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as she watched Spencer nod quickly, giving your shoulder a squeeze with the sweetest smile she'd ever seen him give someone. "Uh-"

"Don't worry about it," You shook your head. "This is your night." When you saw JJ was about to ask again, you filled her in. "Going out on dates, not dating."

She just smiled, holding up her dress. "This is it. I wanted to ask you, actually, if you wanted to be my maid of honor? Help me get ready?"

Your eyes filled with tears, "Oh, Jayge. It would be my absolute honor." You hugged her again tightly, leading her upstairs with her mom.

It didn't take long until the ceremony began. You were already at the end of the isle, watching Spencer do a magic trick with the ring with Henry. You giggled, Spencer's eyes meeting yours as he smiled back to you.

JJ was the most beautiful bride you'd ever seen. She came up to the front and you hugged her, taking her flowers from her and standing next to Spencer and Penelope. As the ceremony went on, you found yourself tearing up. Weddings always made you cry. Spencer took notice, taking your hand and pulling you against his chest as he rubbed your arm. The team was too busy watching JJ and Will to notice.

The dancing was the best part. Penelope pulled you to the dance floor before Spencer even had a chance. You happily slow danced with her, then Derek, who stole you away. From there, Hotch had a dance with you, and then Rossi. Finally, at your favorite slow song, Spencer approached.

"Dave, would you mind?" He softly asked.

"It would be my pleasure." Dave passed you off to Spencer with one hand as Spencer slowly pulled you into his arms. If you took closer notice, you'd see him go to Strauss and begin to dance.

"Hi," You whispered, one hand in his as his other rested on your waist. Your free hand was on his shoulder. The two of you began to sway to the music.

"Hi," He echoed, giving you the softest look you'd ever gotten. "I missed you. I didn't even get a chance to dance with you."

You softly giggled, "Well, now it's yours. All yours, Spence." You leaned in closer, "You're the only one I wanted to dance with."

The position changed, both of Spencer's hands were on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. This was much more intimate. "You're the only one I want, too." The double meaning made your stomach twist in the best way.

As the two of you danced, your teammates began to finally notice. "Oh my god," Derek mumbled. "Those two dumb geniuses finally got together."

"Actually, they're just going on dates," JJ corrected as she swayed with Will.

Emily smirked, "Not for long by the looks of it."

"They make such a sweet couple," Beth cooed.

Penelope gasped, "Oh my sweet baby Jesus, I took her away from him all night!"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind." Hotch smiled, actually smiled, as they all watched you lean your head on his shoulder, one of his hands coming up to the middle your back to splay out, almost protectively, holding you closer.

"I think I hear some more wedding bells in our future." Derek smiled.

[ddejavvu]

MEI. MEI, MY MOST FAVORITEST FANFIC WRITER. IVE HAD AN IDEA.

PENELOPE (Garcia) AND READER GOT THEIR PERIOD CYCLES SYNCED, AND SO THEYRE BOTH OVULATING AT THE SAME TIME, AND SO DURING DOWN TIME THEYRE IN GARCIAS OFFICE LOOKING AT BABY PICTURES, AND MORGAN COMES IN, AND READER LOOKS AT HIM AND GOES "Derek, put a baby in me." AND JUST LIKE EKDBJEGDHE

RELATIONSHIP PRE ESTABLISHED OR NOT, IDC, I JUST NEED THIS. 🙏🙏🙏

i love the idea of being cycle synced with penny she's my girl <3

--

"This is my niece," Penelope tilts her phone towards you, and beneath her hello kitty phone charm that dangles in front of the screen, you can see the chubby outline of a baby girl dressed in pink frills and a comically large hairbow.

"Oh, the baby," You gush, voice raising an immeasurable number of octaves, "Her little fingernails are painted pink!"

"I know!" Penelope wails, anguish worked into the wrinkles her frown etches into her face, "God, she's so teeny-tiny and she's such a babbler, she coos at you and she holds onto your finger and she looks at you with these big pretty eyes, and-! I need a baby so bad."

"Me too." You nod resolutely, "Okay - here's the plan. We're gonna go out after work tonight, and the first guy that comes onto us, we're gonna jump him and have his babies."

"Several of them," Penelope catches on, "And we'll send him away and raise them as the BAU's children so that they grow up with Reid's smarts and Emily's kick-assery."

"Amazing. No notes." You stand from the cushy couch in the corner of one of the BAU's rec rooms, "Let's go find ourselves a baby daddy, Penelope."

Before she can stand and join you, the door opens, and your eyes meet the strong, sturdy figure of Derek Morgan. He's clueless as to what he's just walked into, but you study his features briefly.

Strong shoulders. Balanced face. Pretty eyes.

"Derek," You hold your head high, standing strong, "Put a baby in me."

Nothing moves but his eyes, which widen against the smooth tone of his skin. He's effectively frozen in place, and Penelope speaks in his place when she stands beside you and urges, "Me too!"

"We're looking to get pregnant," You explain, which doesn't ease the stiffness in his posture the way you thought it would, "And you seem like a good candidate. Our babies will excel at kicking in doors."

"Uh, that sounds like a concern for a sperm bank, ladies," His voice is slightly weaker than it usually is, but a faint smirk begins to grow on his handsome features, "But I s'pose if you really want, I can open up my own."

"On second thought," Penelope stage-whispers to you, her cherry-flavored lips beside your ear, "I don't want our babies to have his cockiness."

"Hey, you asked me-"

"You're right," You nod back to her, eyes still trained on Derek protesting before you, "Maybe Reid?"

"We'd have to pay for glasses." Penelope laments, "And Hotch's would be born frowning."

"We're out of luck." You sigh morosely flopping back down onto the couch, "The men of the BAU are all disqualified."

"Nuh-uh," Derek grins, something evil glinting in his eye as payback for your earlier teasing. You eye him suspiciously, a distasteful frown already worming its way over your face. But of course, he's Derek Morgan, and he excels at goading. "You forgot Rossi. You ladies ever try Italian sausage?"

[btsiu]

HELP!!!

The state of Rio Grande do Sul in Brazil is currently facing a climate catastrophe that resulted in the flooding of several towns, including RS’s capital Porto Alegre, leaving many dead, missing, and displaced after losing everything.

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PayPal: Fathiele14@gmail.com

If can't help by donating, then help by sharing this please 🙏🏼

[hoe4hotchner]

Unpaid Balance

Pairing: Debt collector!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: 18+, dark nature, the mob, Spencer is evil in a weirdly sexual way, hair yanking, maybe it counts a little as waterboarding reader's head is submerged in water for a second or two, fingering, kissing? Dom/sub dynamic, Sex is there but not described that well, Teasing, Hunter x prey dynamic, fear, fainting.

I think that's it but let me know if I missed something.

A/N: I'M BACK BITCHES!!!! I made myself so feral writing this, what the fuck. Also, Rossi makes an apperance :)

"You can't hide from me forever! There's nowhere to run." His voice echoed through the nearly empty warehouse, a chilling reminder of the footsteps that drew closer with every passing second. You regretted sneaking in here, realizing too late that hiding from him was the worst decision you could have made. His taunting voice carried a sinister edge, and you could almost picture the smirk tugging at his lips. All of this because you answered your phone this morning. You kicked yourself mentally for being so stupid, you knew better, but now wasn’t the time for that. You needed to find a way out of here.

It all started this morning. You knew time was running out. The stack of letters piling up in the mail painted a grim picture, one you desperately wished you could escape. The bank had sold your debt weeks ago to the most notorious collectors in the city, and how you'd managed to stay off their radar for this long was a mystery. But the moment your phone rang, dread settled in your stomach—you knew you’d messed up royally when you mindlessly answered the call.

"Ah, Miss (L/N), I'm glad to reach you finally." His voice was smooth, almost soothing, the kind of voice you could listen to for hours if the circumstances differed. But this wasn't a podcast, and Spencer Reid was far from a comforting presence. There was an unsettling familiarity in his tone, despite never having met him before. You knew exactly who he was and that was the problem.

"Well, If that's how you'd like to play-" You quickly cut off the call, knowing fully well that you were in deep trouble now. If only the bank had sold your files to anyone else, you would've been able to survive, but this was truly the worst outcome you could think of. Not even five minutes passed by before the buzzer rang. Panic surged through you, your heart racing faster than you thought possible. You felt sick, your vision blurring as his words echoed in your mind. It had to be him at the door.

With no time to waste, you bolted for the fire escape, scrambling down and out onto the street. You ran, pushing yourself to move faster, not daring to look back. But curiosity got the better of you. You glanced over your shoulder and there he was—Spencer, standing calmly at the end of the street, hands in his pockets, his black suit making him look even more imposing. He was too calm, given your desperate flight. He gave you a slight nod before getting into his car as if this were all just a game to him. Panic surged again, and you kept running, taking the first turn you saw, desperately trying to shake him off your tail.

Somehow the streets seemed empty, almost too empty, something was wrong and you knew it. Your steps echoed through the streets as you made your way further and further away from him, or so you hoped. Despite the sun brightly lighting up the sky, each step you took seemed to guide you further and further into darkness.

The sound of a car door slamming yanked your attention, and you knew instantly that Spencer was close. His disapproving tutting echoed down the street, a harsh reminder of your failed escape. Spinning around, you spotted his towering shadow cast ominously against the building at the next street corner. Without a second thought, you darted back the way you came, barely dodging an oncoming car. There was no time to heed the rules of the road—stopping could mean getting caught, and you weren't about to lose everything without a fight. Determination surged through you as you sprinted down the street, your heart pounding with every step.

Somehow, you found yourself in a narrow alley with no way out except to retrace your steps. Just when you thought you were done for, the sound of footsteps drew closer again. As if answering a desperate prayer, you spotted a tiny opening in the wall, partially obscured by wooden planks. It looked like a tight squeeze, but it was your only chance. You dashed toward the gap and threw yourself behind a dumpster, clawing your way through the narrow space. The rough edges of the broken planks scratched at your arms, sending stinging pain through your skin. You gave yourself a quick once-over, checking for any serious injuries, before realizing that you’d only traded one danger for another. You had squeezed into one of the abandoned warehouses near the docks, and now you were even more trapped.

You were far from home, no familiarity whatsoever in these corners of the city. The silence was loud, dripping water splattering onto the floor filled your ears as you scanned through the building to find a hiding spot. He couldn't be far away. You had a hunch that Spencer knew this city better than you, wondering just how many people had been in your situation before. How many people have experienced the sheer amount of fear that his voice shocked your system with?

Despite being nearly empty, there were still a few scattered remnants of activity: old wooden crates piled in one corner, a rusted metal shelving unit leaning precariously against a wall, and a cluster of large, dusty tarps draped over what looked like abandoned machinery.

Behind the crates, there was just enough space to squeeze into a narrow gap, shielded from view by the stacked boxes. The shelves, though unstable, provided a potential hiding spot if you were careful not to make a sound—one wrong move, and the whole thing could come crashing down over you. The tarps were the most tempting option, covering enough ground to allow you to slip beneath them and blend into the shadows they cast, but they blocked your vision. Each hiding spot had its risks, but they were your best chance to stay hidden in this desolate place.

You decided on the crates, quickly squeezing into the narrow gap behind them. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils as you settled into the shadows, your heart pounding in your chest. You could just barely see through the slats in the crates, giving you a limited view of the warehouse floor.

Moments later, a figure appeared in the dim light of what must've been the main entrance to the building. He strolled in with a casual confidence that sent a chill down your spine, his silhouette tall and imposing. As he moved further into the warehouse, he began to whistle—a slow, haunting melody that echoed off the walls. The sound was unnervingly cheerful, completely at odds with the tension that crackled in the air.

"You can't hide from me forever! There's nowhere to run." His voice echoed through the nearly empty warehouse, a chilling reminder of the footsteps that drew closer with every passing second.

You held your breath, trying to stay as still as possible, peering through the slats to keep an eye on him. The melody continued like a twisted lullaby, it made your skin crawl. Spencer’s head swiveled slightly as if he was listening for any hint of movement, his pace unhurried as he drew closer to the crates.

Every instinct screamed at you to stay hidden, to remain perfectly still, but the fear gnawing at you was almost unbearable. Spencer’s whistling filled the empty space, making the warehouse seem even more desolate, even more inescapable.

Your muscles ached from staying so still, but you forced yourself to remain motionless, watching Spencer’s every move through the slats in the crates. His whistling continued, the eerie melody twisting in your mind. You tried to control your breathing, to keep it slow and quiet, but fear had a way of making even the smallest actions feel impossible.

Just as you shifted slightly to ease the tension in your legs, your foot brushed against a loose piece of wood. The small creak it made seemed deafening in the silence, and your heart skipped a beat as Spencer’s whistling abruptly stopped. The sudden quiet was more terrifying than the sound itself.

Spencer paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if he’d heard something. You could see his eyes narrowing, his focus sharp as he scanned the warehouse. You held your breath, praying he would dismiss the noise as just the old building settling. But instead, he started moving again, slower this time, his eyes sweeping the area around the crates.

Then, just as you thought he might pass by, Spencer suddenly changed direction, heading toward a spot where you couldn’t see him through the slats. Panic surged through you—if you couldn’t see him, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. You strained to hear, but the warehouse was filled with overpowering silence, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

You remained frozen, every nerve on edge, until suddenly you felt a hand seize a fistful of your hair. Pain shot through your scalp as your head was yanked back, forcing you to look up. There he was, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and filled with a twisted amusement. The smirk you had dreaded seeing was there, curling at the corner of his lips as he stared down at you, triumphant.

“Found you,” he whispered, his voice low and menacing, sending a fresh wave of terror through your body.

Your breath hitched in your throat, panic flooding your senses, overwhelming every rational thought. The room began to spin, the edges of your vision blurring as the reality of your situation closed in on you. Spencer’s grip tightened, his smirk deepening as he watched the fear consume you.

Your heart pounded erratically, each beat growing fainter as a cold sweat broke out across your skin. The world around you faded, the warehouse and Spencer’s terrifying presence becoming distant, shadowy shapes. You could hear his voice, low and mocking, but it sounded far away as if submerged underwater.

Then, all at once, the fear became too much. Your body couldn’t take it anymore. Darkness crept in from the edges of your vision, and before you could register what was happening, your eyes rolled back, and everything went black.

“Guess it’s time for you to meet the boss,” he murmured, his words laced with cruel amusement as you started slipping. The last thing you felt was the cold, unforgiving floor as your body slumped forward, unconscious, completely at the mercy of the man who had hunted you down.

You were jolted awake by the sudden, shocking cold of your head being plunged into a bucket of water. Panic surged through you as you flailed, gasping for air when you were finally pulled out, only to be hoisted off the floor by two large men. Your body was weak, limbs heavy from fear and exhaustion, as they dragged you across the room. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, but the disorientation lingered.

When your eyes finally focused, you found yourself in a dimly lit office. The centerpiece of the room was a massive wooden desk, polished to a dark sheen. Behind it sat Rossi, the mob boss, lounging in a big leather chair that looked close to a throne. He was idly playing with the rings on his fingers, twisting them around as if deep in thought, though his cold eyes were fixed on you. His presence was commanding, exuding power with every casual movement. He leaned back, observing you with cold, calculating eyes.

Spencer was there too, standing behind the desk, his eyes not on Rossi but on you. He seemed relaxed, casually admiring the various knick-knacks that decorated the shelves behind the boss. But something was unsettling in the way his gaze kept drifting back to you, lingering a little too long. His dark eyes were filled with a growing hunger, a lust that made your skin crawl. As he licked his lips, you could feel his desire radiating off him in waves, and it made your stomach turn.

Rossi’s voice cut through the tension in the room, smooth and authoritative. He spoke about the debt you owed, laying out macabre options for repayment, each more horrifying than the last. His tone was casual, almost bored as if he were discussing mundane business rather than your fate. But despite his nonchalant demeanor, Rossi was not one to miss anything. He noticed the way Spencer's gaze was fixed on you, the way his lips curled in anticipation.

Without breaking his stride, Rossi’s sharp eyes flicked to the two henchmen holding you. “Take her away,” he ordered, his voice calm but commanding. “Lock her up in the back room.”

The henchmen didn’t hesitate, dragging you out of the office and down a dark corridor. Fear absorbed you as you realized what was coming next. As they pulled you further away, the last thing you heard was Rossi’s voice, low and authoritative, addressing Spencer.

“She’s all yours, boy.”

The words echoed in your mind as the door slammed shut behind you, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room, with only the sound of your rough breathing to keep you company.

What felt like hours had passed since you were thrown into the dim, cold room. The only light came from a small, grimy window high up on the wall, barely large enough to squeeze through. Desperation gnawed at you as the reality of your situation set in. You couldn’t just sit here and wait for whatever plans Spencer had in store for you.

With renewed determination, you climbed onto the rickety table beneath the window and started pounding on the glass with your fists. The sound echoed in the small space, but the window refused to give. Frustration and fear fueled your efforts, each strike harder than the last until your hands ached and your hope began to weaken.

Then, just as you were about to strike again, a voice, smooth and taunting, cut through the silence. “You really think that’s going to work?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you turned to see Spencer standing in the doorway. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that same unsettling, predatory gaze. His presence filled the room with an oppressive weight, and your heart sank as you realized how long he might have been standing there, silently observing.

Your eyes flicked to the open door behind him, Spencer instinctively followed your gaze, as you calculated the distance, wondering if you could make a run for it. But before you could move, Spencer’s lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “The guards are right outside. You wouldn’t get two steps before they'd drag you back.”

He stepped inside the room, locking the door behind him with a soft click that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound was final, cutting off any last hope of escape. Spencer’s eyes were fixed on you as he slowly closed the distance between you, each step deliberate, predatory.

When he was close enough, he reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His grip was firm, fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you flinch. His face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and the power in his eyes was almost painful.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, as if savoring every word. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a mockingly tender gesture that only made the situation more terrifying. “You belong to me now.”

Until now, your fear and the dim lighting through the streets had kept his features in shadow, but with him this close, every detail became starkly clear.

He was tall, standing over you with an imposing presence that seemed to fill the entire room. His brown eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto yours with an unsettling focus. There was a calculating glint in those eyes as if he was dissecting every aspect of your fear and desperation. His stubble was neatly groomed, giving him a rugged, but carefully maintained look. It was clear that he put thought into his appearance, despite the rough edge it conveyed.

His hair was curly, styled in a way that looked effortlessly messy but was clearly intended to appear that way. It was a deliberate disarray, a chaotic yet tidy arrangement that only added to his imposing aura. The overall effect was one of calculated carelessness—a style that spoke of someone who was both meticulous and unapologetically confident.

You found yourself unable to look away, forced to take in every detail of his face as he studied you with that predatory smirk. The harsh lines of his stubble, the casual sweep of his curls, the sharpness in his gaze—it all added up to a man who was in control, a man who was used to getting what he wanted. The realization of how meticulously he crafted his appearance only heightened your sense of dread. This was not just a random enforcer; he was someone who took pride in his role, someone who thrived on the power he held over others.

"I… I'm not scared of you." You stuttered, although your heart was racing. You tried to appear in control of the situation, yet you weren't.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You know,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr, “it’s not just about fear. There’s something else I can sense.”

You shivered at his words, the combination of his tone and the physical closeness making your pulse race. Spencer’s thumb brushed lightly over your lips, the touch surprisingly gentle yet filled with a predatory intent. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, to make you squirm without ever laying a hand on you.

His lips curled into a smirk as he continued, his voice a seductive whisper. “It’s almost like you’re enjoying the attention. Isn’t that interesting?”

Your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion, the intense gaze from his eyes only amplifying your discomfort. His teasing manner was almost more torturous than if he had been more overt. The way he spoke made it clear he was playing a game, one where your emotional reactions were the reward.

Spencer leaned back slightly, giving you a moment of peace before leaning in again, his face close enough that you could see the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, almost sympathetically, “this is just the beginning. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

He stepped back, still holding your chin firmly but allowing you some space. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—he was reveling in the control he had over you. The room seemed to close in as you were left to process his words, the heat in your cheeks a testament to the psychological game he was playing.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. “You’re so easy to read,” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I can see the way you react to every little touch, every word.”

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from your chin down to your collarbone, each movement designed to provoke. The sensation was both electric and maddening, his touch lingering just long enough to drive you wild. He seemed to take pleasure in your reactions, savoring the way you tensed and shivered under his touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a tantalizing tease. The question was rhetorical, meant to deepen your sense of helplessness. His eyes remained locked on yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

Spencer’s touch moved to your shoulders, his fingers grazing the skin with a feathery lightness that was almost unbearable. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his body, a constant reminder of the command he held over you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued to speak in that same low, seductive tone. “You’re not going to get any relief from me unless you let me see exactly what I want to see. Until then, I’ll just keep playing.”

Spencer’s smirk widened as he continued to test the boundaries of your resolve. His fingers, which had been exploring the more exposed areas of your skin, moved with deliberate intent. He leaned in closer, the heat of his breath mingling with the growing sense of vulnerability you felt.

His hand drifted lower, and you felt a jolt of anxiety as his fingers brushed against the waistband of your pants. The touch was teasing, a reminder of how completely he had taken control of the situation. His movements were slow and calculated, each brush against your skin designed to provoke a reaction.

You flinched as his hand inched past the waistband, the action crossing a boundary that made your heart race. Spencer’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt the fabric of your underwear beneath his fingertips, his touch both maddeningly faint and unsettlingly deliberate.

“Just a little closer,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I want to see how much you can take.”

The sensation was overwhelming, creating a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, discomfort, and a desperate need for relief. Spencer seemed to revel in the control he had, his touch a constant reminder of how he could manipulate your reactions.

His hand lingered just enough to make you squirm, every brush of his fingers designed to heighten your sense of exposure. He maintained a close proximity, his face only inches from yours, ensuring that you were fully aware of his dominance.

As he continued his teasing exploration, his gaze never left yours, studying your reactions with a predatory focus. The psychological impact of his actions was evident in the way he played with your sense of control, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of emotions and tension.

Without warning, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His kiss was insistent, a claim that spoke of his control and authority. His lips moved over yours with a fierce hunger, as if he was trying to consume every part of you. The kiss was both intense and electrifying, a physical manifestation of the power he held over you.

You felt a mix of helplessness and intrigue as his kiss deepened, his dominance apparent in the way he controlled the pace and intensity. His hands roamed over your body with an assertive confidence, making it clear that he was in charge of this moment. The kiss left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of his passion.

But as the kiss continued, something shifted in Spencer’s demeanor. His initial control and dominance seemed to give way to a more primal urgency. He pulled back abruptly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with a mix of frustration and desire.

In a sudden, almost desperate motion, Spencer seized you by the waist and threw you onto the bed behind him. The movement was rough, almost as if he couldn’t contain the intensity of his emotions any longer. You landed on the bed with a jolt, the impact leaving you momentarily stunned.

Spencer stood over you, his chest heaving, the earlier dominance in his gaze replaced by a raw, unrestrained desire. He looked down at you with a mixture of frustration and need, his body tense as he tried to regain control of the situation. The shift from controlled passion to uncontrollable urgency was palpable, leaving both of you in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension and the aftermath of the intense kiss.

He undressed with a practiced ease, his gaze never leaving you. The room was filled with a tense silence as he removed his shirt, then his belt, his movements methodical yet charged with an underlying urgency. His actions were slow and deliberate, each piece of clothing discarded adding to the intensity of the moment.

As he finished undressing, Spencer’s gaze remained locked on you, a mix of desire and dominance evident in his eyes. He approached the bed with a purposeful stride, his confidence unmistakable. The sight of him, now fully exposed and moving with a mix of control and raw desire, only heightened the tension in the room.

Spencer crawled onto the bed, his movements predatory and deliberate. He positioned himself above you, his body pressing down with a commanding presence. His touch was firm but carefully controlled as he began to undress you. His fingers moved with skilled ease, undoing buttons and slipping fabric from your body with a mix of precision and urgency.

Each movement was calculated to assert his dominance, his hands brushing over your skin with a mix of intent and intimacy. His eyes were focused, studying your reactions as he worked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he took in the effect of his actions.

Despite the forcefulness of the moment, there was a clear sense of control in Spencer’s actions. He took his time, savoring the power he held over you, ensuring that every touch and movement was calculated to maintain his dominance.

“You look incredible,” Spencer murmured, his voice a low, sultry growl. His fingertips traced a deliberate path from your collarbone down to the edge of your waist. “Absolutely breathtaking.” He moaned.

“Spencer…�� you began, your voice barely a whisper. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, Spencer silenced you with a fierce, demanding kiss. His lips moved against yours with a heated haste, his hands roaming over your body with a mixture of tenderness and assertiveness. His touch was electric, sending waves of sensation through you as he explored every curve.

When he pulled back, his gaze was intense, almost searching.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I need to hear it.” Your heart pounded as you met his gaze, the vulnerability of the moment making it difficult to find the right words.

“I want… I want you,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and fear. Tears threatened to fall from the mix of confusing emotions.

Spencer’s smirk widened, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction.

You responded to his touch, your body arching and shifting beneath him. The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your connection, each movement and kiss amplifying the sensation of being completely and utterly desired.

When Spencer finally eased himself into you, his movements were measured and deliberate. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of passion and concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with genuine care. You nodded slowly unable to form any words, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

He began to move with a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate. His eyes never left yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. “You feel incredible,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I’m never going to get tired of this.”

As the rhythm between you and Spencer grew more intense, the room seemed to pulse with the energy of your shared experience. Every touch, every kiss, and every movement was charged with a profound sense of connection and desire. The air was thick with anticipation, and the world outside felt like it had faded into a distant echo.

Spencer’s movements became more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched your every reaction. His hands gripped your body with a mix of tenderness and need, guiding you through the waves of pleasure that were building with each passing second.

“Look at me,” Spencer said, his voice a low, commanding whisper.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze mirroring the intensity of your emotions. The pressure inside you grew, a rising tide of sensation that made it hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure. Your breaths came faster, each gasp and moan a testament to the climax that was building.

With a final, deep thrust, the release hit you like a tidal wave. The pleasure surged through you, a powerful crescendo that left you gasping and trembling. Your body arched in response, the intensity of the moment overwhelming your senses. Spencer’s grip tightened as he held you close, his own release following closely behind.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his voice soft as he pulled you into his embrace. You nodded.

As the room settled into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere, Spencer's intense gaze remained fixed on you. His breathing was heavy, but his demeanor shifted slightly, a subtle return to the commanding presence he had exhibited earlier.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still smoldering with a mix of satisfaction and dominance. “Good,” he said, his voice a low, throaty rumble. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

You looked up at him, your breaths coming in soft, shaky gasps. The intensity of the moment was still fresh in your mind, but Spencer’s words brought a new layer of complexity to the encounter. His smirk held a touch of the predatory edge that had marked his earlier actions.

“Because,” Spencer continued, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone, “you still have a lot of debt to pay.”

His words hung in the air, their impact as sharp as the bite of his earlier touches. The shift in his tone was stark, the reminder of your precarious situation a jarring contrast to the intimacy you had just shared. It was clear that, despite the physical and emotional connection between you, the underlying reality of your debt and his control over you was never far from his mind.

“You think this is over?” he asked with a chuckle, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your reaction. “This was just part one of the payment. You owe more than that.”

The reality of his words hit you with a mix of dread and resignation. The pleasure you had experienced seemed to clash with the reminder of your situation. Spencer’s dominance was evident not only in his actions but in the way he asserted his control over your circumstances once again.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m going to make sure you understand exactly what it means to be in debt to me,” he whispered. “This is just the beginning.”

Thumbs up to you for making it this far ;)

[hardlyinteresting]

Personal

Aaron Hotchner x reader

A case hits a little too close to home for the reader. Hotch makes sure she knows she not alone even as they struggle to decide if they're colleagues, friends, or something more.

Warnings: female reader, (I've given her the nickname Sweets), No physical description of reader, mildly graphic descriptions of injuries, cannon-compliant themes of violence, themes of past domestic violence, mild hurt/comfort, I am not a profiler so there are likely mistakes in the profile (please let me know if there are any warnings you'd like me to add. Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

Word count: 3.2K

"Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain" Ann-Marie MacDonald

The case comes in early in the morning. Aaron has hardly managed a sip of his coffee when the phone rings with a call from a local P.D. in Aberdeen, Virginia. It's urgent. It always is. He cannot begrudge the haste with which his job forces him to chug down the scalding liquid in his mug as he calls upon Garcia to prep the relevant files for the case. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Sufficiently caffeinated (albeit with a burnt tongue), and briefed on the case, Hotch calls the team to meet him in the conference room. 

His colleagues seem to be in good spirits today. With a passing glance around the room Hotch silently completes a behavioural checklist for each of them in his mind. No one on the team seems over-exhausted, overtly anxious, or withdrawn. They chat amongst themselves, teasing and joking like siblings as they wait for him to settle into the remaining seat at the table. He nods at Penelope, “Garcia, let's get started”. With a quick “yes, sir,” she presses a button on the remote to begin the briefing. 

This morning the police in Aberdeen discovered the body of a woman left propped up against the wall outside a local medical clinic. Abigail Lawson. 27 years old. She had been badly beaten. A single stab wound. No sign of sexual assault. 

“Cause of death?” Prentiss asks. 

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Garcia supplies the response. 

“And she's the first?” Morgan follows up. 

“Two weeks ago Stella Amos, twenty-five,  was admitted to hospital with similar injuries. She passed away two hours later. A punctured lung”. 

The photographs of the injuries are disturbing. After years on the job, the images never seem to get less brutal. A chill travels down his spine as he looks over the extent of the wounds on both of the women. A hush falls over the room as everyone else takes a moment to swallow down their own shock and compartmentalize their feelings of disgust. They train themselves, scanning the photographs and notes for the facts they can work with in hopes of saving anyone else from meeting the same fate. 

“No stab wound. Are we sure these cases are connected?” Reid surveys the provided facts one more time.

“Similar age, hair colour. They were from the same neighbourhood. Steady jobs,” Rossi lists, “there's a pattern in victimology to be sure”.

“They could be unconnected acts of domestic violence,” Morgan posits before continuing, “but leaving these women at medical centres is unique. Could be remorse”.

“A man who beats women within an inch of their lives before dropping them off for medical attention. It's a big risk. Knowing they might survive to identify him”.

Hotch nods at the assessment. He had followed the same thought process himself when he got the call. 

“Maybe he's banking on them being too afraid to talk if they do pull through,” another voice in the room speaks up for the first time this morning. Sweets, the team calls her. An affectionate nickname that’s stuck since her first week on the team. “the stabbing is an escalation and these are high-risk victims. This UNSUB isn't worried about getting caught. These attacks are personal to him somehow”. It's an important assertion, and something they'll need to consider as they build and expand their working profile. 

He's glad to hear Sweets adding to the conversation. She's never been shy when contributing to the team's brainstorms, and he had begun to worry when it had taken her so long to speak up. He doesn't miss the wobble in her tone, or the way she now avoids eye contact. She’s a valuable team member, and despite being the most recent addition she’s settled herself flawlessly over the last year. Aaron is well aware of the poor retention rate for new team members in the BAU and has continued to be impressed by her ability to hang on to her brand of optimism and take their most difficult cases in stride. She’s worked hard to see the best in people, and unsurprisingly endeared herself to those around her; himself included. 

At first, Hotch had been grateful for her unique perspective from her experience working for victim services. Then, he grew to appreciate her attention to detail, and the way his piles of paperwork seemed smaller and smaller at the end of each week. She quickly became a friend and a confidant after long nights in the office, and the field. Now, their relationship lies in limbo somewhere between friends and something more. 

Lately, the tugging at his heartstrings has grown nearly painful. All the old cliches leave his heart racing and he feels like a teenager whenever her hand brushes against his own. A night out with the team had ended with her curled up in his bed the next morning, and he’s been a goner ever since. It's been weeks, she hasn’t mentioned it, so neither has he. The guise of professionalism makes it easy to shove down his insecurities, and recurring fears; his age; his scars, physical and metaphorical; the weight of his career; he pushes them to the back of his mind. He does not dare to hope. He does not allow himself to consider the reasons why she might want to keep him at arm's length. It hurts less that way. “Whatever the case we've got a week before he strikes again,” Hotch confirms, his mind focused on the case, “we should head out”.

It’s August, and the sun is nearly blinding; the heat and humidity are intolerable, but nobody complains as they split up between the most recent crime scene, the morgue, and the precinct. Hotch would never admit it, but he’s glad when the woman who occupies half his thoughts volunteers to head to the station with JJ. Not for his peace of mind, but hers. Driving into the town he had seen her hands fidgeting in the back seat of the Suburban. Something about this case is already weighing on her, and he doubts the discomfort of the summer calefaction will be much help. He tries not to think about it any more than that. 

The crime scene doesn’t tell them much more than they already knew. There’s no security footage to help them identify the UNSUB. But, the way he leans the victims to sit against the way rather than just dumping them shows some kind of warped sense of concern for their well-being. The women are likely substitutes for someone else. He was likely raised in a violent home. He can only hope that the rest of the team has managed to learn more. 

Sweets is glad that the station had the forethought to move a coffee maker into the room they’ve set up for the BAU team to work out of. In her short time on the team, she’s learned how essential caffeine is to the function of herself and her teammates. Not enjoying coffee is not an option. Cream and sugar make it tolerable to those who despise the bitter taste. As she preps her second cup of the day she watches Spencer dump 4 packets of sugar into his mug. Whatever gets you through the case. She reminds herself. 

“Defensive wounds on her arms, but her manicure wasn't chipped. There was no blood or skin under her fingernails. No bruising on her knuckles,” Morgan shares what he and Rossi learned at the morgue, “She held her arms up to protect herself, but she didn't fight back. She didn't scratch, claw, or punch her assailant”. 

“She probably knew him then,” Prentiss says, “He’s not sneaking up on these women. But, he has the advantage and control required to attack them head-on”. 

The profile continues to build and Sweets pulls further in on herself. The personal nature of the attacks leaves her nauseous. Flickers of memories she’s fought hard to forget flash behind her eyes, but she forces herself to stay in the room. Reign it in, she wills herself. Without looking across the room she knows Aaron’s eyes are on her. Her cheeks warm though she can’t be sure if it’s his gaze or her anxiety to blame. She tries not to read into it, not wanting to feel too self-important. It’s his job to watch everyone on the team, she knows that. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself the same way she has since she woke up next to him all those weeks ago. She doesn't want attention because she slept with him, and she'd be silly to think it meant anything to him anyway. It's easier to ignore it. He hasn't mentioned it, so she hasn't either.

Despite her best efforts, she does like him. More than she should. Normally, the attention would leave her with butterflies fluttering in her chest, like a schoolgirl with a crush. But today, she feels too seen, too exposed. she focuses her attention on controlling the unwanted emotions this case continues to dredge up. Aaron has seen her undressed, he’s seen her let down her walls and crack jokes. He knows her better than the rest of the team, but this is not a side of her he needs to see. 

 Under the table she plants her feet, pressing the soles of her boots hard against the linoleum. She reminds herself who she’s with and why she’s here. When she’s able to breathe without gagging she speaks up, “If it looks like domestic violence maybe that’s exactly what it is”.  Hotch’s head tilts up, his eyes moving off of the files he’s been pretending to read for the hundredth time, “What do you mean?”

“This morning Morgan said these murders looked like cases of DV. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. We know he had some kind of relationship with the victims-- maybe they were dating him,” Sweets holds her breath waiting for a response.

“It would help to explain the gaps in our profile-- Prentiss, call Garcia and have her look into any recent purchases by the victims. New clothes, new shoes, restaurants, anything that might suggest they’ve been dating,” Hotch instructs, “Sweets, you and JJ should speak to their friends and family; ask if they’ve mentioned anyone new in their lives”. 

Like with any case, she hopes her insight helps, that her perspective and thinking might get them one step closer to finding the UNSUB before anyone else gets hurt; and that they might be able to bring closure to the families of the victims. 

She's learned that personal experience can help as much as it can hinder. Seeing things from an angle that no one else can is certainly an advantage, but it doesn't make it easy to live with either. But, her stomach churns. His face. His touch. The bruises he left behind. She tries to remember she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has nothing to hide. It's no secret everyone on the team struggles with different types of cases, JJ has always found it difficult working cases involving children, and Hotch becomes snappier when they're searching for family annihilators. 

She can feel Aaron's eyes on her again. She prays the twisting in her gut and the scratching in her mind are worth it. 

The next morning begins with news of a third victim. A Jane Doe was found outside the fire station. Aged between 22 and 25. Beaten beyond any kind of recognition. The M.E. will have to try to use dental records to ID her. 

The crime scene photographs are a gruesome addition to the already horrific crime board in the conference room. “It would take an incredible amount of rage and power to beat someone to death like this,” Rossi points out. 

Hotch’s fingers buzz. His usual ground method of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together isn't working. He clenches and unclenches his fist willing the memory of bone cracking, and blood splattering beneath his knuckles away. He hates that even years after his death George Foyet continues to find new ways to sink his teeth in; the mere memory of him is enough to leave bile rising in the back of Aaron's throat. 

Their profile is ready. A white male, mid 20s to early 30s. Traditionally attractive. He's well-groomed and takes pride in his appearance. He more than likely works in an office setting. At work, his desk is neat and well-organized. He does everything by the book. He aspires to a role above his own and will talk about it often. In his eyes, he's overworked and under-appreciated; but, in reality, it's his quick temper and outward frustration that have kept him in his menial role. He may be flirtatious towards the women around him but likely won't pay them any attention when it comes to business matters. As a child he would have grown up in a working-class household, and more than likely faced abuse at the hands of his father. As a teenager, he learned to place blame on his mother for this abuse and began looking down on her the same way his father did. But no amount of hatred could ever win him his father's attention. This made him hate his mother more and allowed his misogynistic views to solidify in adulthood. He will have a history of violence throughout school and early adulthood, and more than likely charges for battery or assault. 

A call from Garcia confirms that the first and second victims both had paid for dinners at restaurants within the same two-block stretch despite living and working on opposite sides of town. Their cards had been used at the restaurants only 25 minutes before their attacks. 

“And he didn’t pay for their dinners either. Chivalry really is dead,” Prentiss dismisses. Predictably, their collective disdain for the UNSUB continues to grow as they learn more about him. Penelope manages to rustle up security footage from one of the restaurants, she's unable to get a facial ID on the man leaving with the first victim but promises to search for other footage from the area and call back when she has a new lead. One step closer, Hotch reminds himself. 

Twenty minutes later word from the M.E. Office arrives. A positive ID on Jane Doe. Grace McKinney, 24. Aaron watches as Sweets pins a photograph of Grace to the victims' board. Her hands shake as she takes a step back, and then she's rushing out of the room before he can ask if she's alright. 

His body feels lead-heavy, his limbs so hebetudinous that he’d swear he was melting into the floor if it weren’t for his feet carrying him out of the room without instruction. Sweets is doubled over in the alleyway behind the station, remnants of her breakfast splashed across the ground. She has nothing left to bring up, but still she dry heaves as if trying to expel more than the contents of her stomach. He knows the feeling. 

“Sweets?” his voice starles her, and Hotch is quick to hold his hands out in a surrendering motion as he approaches, “Are you alright?” He knows the real answer, and he knows that she’ll look right at him and lie; but he asks anyway. “Are you asking as my boss, or as my friend?” She asks. “Would it make a difference?” it’s his turn to wonder. Finally close enough to touch her, he places a hand on her back. It’s impossible to miss the shiver that runs up her spine. Sweets hides her face, angling herself away from her, shrinking in on herself. She tries to hide from him, as unwilling as ever to show any kind of weakness real or perceived. “I’m asking as someone who cares,” Hotch tries again, snuffing out the burning sensation that seems to grow in his chest; his fear of vulnerability fighting hard to shut him down. He won’t let it. “It’s me,” she tells him as if it’s obvious. “Yes”. He's confused. Of course, it's her, he can see her standing right in front of him. “It's me. I'm the Jane Doe; Grace. Abigail. Stella”. His heart stops. She continues, looking at him for the first time, her eyes tearing up, “Not literally-- I just mean…”

“The victimogy. I understand. Same age, hair colour, similar backgrounds--”

“Yes,” She admits, “but we see cases with women who look like me all the time”. 

Aaron nods, taking her openness as an opportunity to guide her out of the alleyway, waiting patiently for her to continue in her own time. “I had a boyfriend a few years ago…I just-- I need some time to collect myself”. 

Again, Aaron nods, understanding, “Would you like me to leave?” 

She shakes her head, her hand shooting up to hold to his arm. She’s shaking less now than she was before. More than ever he wants to hold her, but he doesn’t want to overstep; and during a case, there are lines he cannot cross as her boss. It’s the crux of the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Their personal lives and feelings bleeding and blending to create this strait. Deep down, he’s sure that a line of open communication between them would ease this impasse, but he’s far too shy to suggest it. For now, he settles for being glad her breathing has slowed, and her tears have stopped. “Thank you,” Sweets breathes out. Her hand slips down to squeeze his before she lets go and steps away from him.  “Anytime,” he swears. He means it. 

They find their UNSUB three hours later. Garcia’s scanning of security footage gives them a few license plates from cars within a two-block radius of the restaurants the victims went to. Only one owner fits their profile. He’s at work when they find him. Sweets takes great pleasure in cuffing the man. Hotch has no complaints. 

When they arrive back in Quantico it’s nearing midnight. The team takes their leaving swearing they’ll finish their paperwork tomorrow morning. Sweets takes advantage of the rare silence in the bullpen to complete her reports. She’s not ready to go home. Not yet. At work, she has a shield, a carefully crafted persona; as cracked as it may be at the moment, it holds back the onslaught of personal fallout she’s sure waits for her at home. Sure her apartment is warmer and cozier than the office ever is. Her bed is far more comfortable than any desk chair. But, at home, she has nothing to distract her. At home, she has no obligation to maintain a facade sewn up by professional self-preservation. At home, she’ll be alone without the steady presence of Aaron Hotchner working away in his office. 

The room is bathed in warm lamplight, a comfortable difference from the overhead fluorescents down in the bullpen. Something like a moth, she’s drawn to it by an instinct stronger than her willpower. She knocks on the door frame before leaning into the room. “I finished my report,” she tells him when he looks up. “You didn’t have to finish that tonight,” he tells her with furrowed brows. He sets down his pen and shuts the file he was working on to give her his attention. She steps into the room, setting her report on the edge of his desk. “I didn’t want to go home yet”. She explains though she gets the feeling that he understands. If there’s anyone she knows with a mutual streak of using workplace responsibility to avoid personal turmoil, it’s Hotch. Still, he nods, validating her most simply. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Are you asking as my boss or something more?” she wonders. 

“Would it make a difference?” He asks. “Yes,” She responds. Sweets watches as he swallows, his brows knitting together as he considers his answer carefully, “I’m asking as someone who cares about you very much, in whatever capacity you need me to right now”. It’s a diplomatic response. Gentle and inviting without being outright hopeful. Quintessentially Aaron Hotchner. 

“Will you come home with me,” Sweets allows herself to be bold enough to ask. 

“Yes,” he tells her simply. 

In the morning he slips away only to return with two cups of coffee and a box of breakfast pastries. They don’t need to be in the office until 10:00 and he plans on taking advantage of the time they have together until then. Sweets accepts the cup he holds out to her with an eager smile, and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

[specialagentlokitty]

Rossi x reader - a few more minutes

Could you do fic for David Rossi with wife reader? She surprises him by visiting him at the office. With David going away on a case , it felt like there was not enough time for them. Just something fluff and romantic. Add something else if you want to. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :)) - @pear-1206 💜

Stepping out of the elevator, you made your way through the bullpen, past all the desks and up the stairs to the office you were looking for.

It wasn’t often you came by his work, but sometimes when he had been especially busy you wanted to come make the day a little easier.

You knocked on the door before gently pushing it open, a wide smile spreading across your lips as you saw him look up.

“Hey tesoro, why are you here?”

Rossi got up, meeting you halfway across the room to hug you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Smiling, you rested your head on his chest.

“Well, you’ve been so busy I wanted to make sure you were eating so, I brought food.”

You pulled away, holding out the bag for him to take and look inside.

“Oh darling, you are wonderful!”

Rossi beamed brightly, taking your face gently between his hands as he leant down to kiss you.

Smiling into the kiss, you placed your hands on his, leaning into him a little bit just before he managed to pulled away.

“You made me muffins?” He asked.

“Oh and bread! I was bored, and I wanted to try something new, and I thought maybe Penelope would like the fact it’s purple.”

“You made purple bread?” Rossi chuckled.

He turned his attention to the bag, taking out the muffins you made and set them on the table.

Then he took out some bread and it was in fact a pastel purple.

“It’s lavender bread! It doesn’t actually taste like lavender don’t worry, but it does slightly smell like it, it’s fully safe to eat.” He beamed.

He chuckled a little bit, smiling softly at you.

“You really are something else my dear.”

Rossi pulled his chair out, letting you sit down on it, and he sat in the desk, handing you a muffin.

You split it in half with him, handing him one half while you kept the other half to yourself.

“Is this how you’ve been keeping busy?”

You hummed a little bit, nodding your head.

“Yeah, the bakery is still under repairs.”

“Do you have a quote for the costs?”

“Yeah, kind of expensive but insurance will cover most of it, I can get a loan for the rest.”

“Absolutely not.”

You looked at your husband a little bit confused.

Rossi reached through his pockets, looking for his wallet and he finally found it, holding it out to you.

“You use this, and you cover whatever costs you need to for your bakery, do you understand? I don’t want to hear anything about you taking out a loan. What’s mine is yours, we agreed on this.”

You took his wallet, setting it down on his desk.

“Sweetheart I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will, I’ll have you know that no wife of mine will be taking out a loan with a bank when I have money I don’t even spend.”

Rossi held his hand out to you, and you placed your hand carefully in his, letting him bring it up so he could kiss your knuckles.

“I will cover everything so whatever you need you tell me.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Rossi gave a short hum.

“I’m afraid not, this isn’t an option.”

You laughed a little bit and stood up, placing your forehead on his.

“I love you…”

“I love you too.”

There was a knock on the door and you pulled away, both of you turning to see who it was and you watched as JJ poked her head around the corner.

“(Y/N), hey!”

JJ walked over, hugging you before pulling away.

“I’m sorry Rossi but we’ve got a case.”

He nodded his head, walking over and he placed a hand on your shoulder, walking around you.

He brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“I’m sorry (Y/N)…”

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand, go, I’ll take this to Penelope after.”

He smiled, leaning forward to meet you for a quick kiss.

“I’ll still be around before you leave.”

“I’ll find you.”

He gave you a quick kiss, kissing your forehead, and he pulled away, kissing the side of your head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Dave now go before you’re late.”

He chuckled and nodded, leaving his office and you sat down on his chair again while you waited for him to come back even if it was for a few moments

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Hostage

Description: request: can you do an imagine where the reader is luke’s wife or girlfriend and she gets involved in a hostage situation at a bank and the bau is called in to help with the situation? thanks, i love your writing so much :)

 Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: hostage situation, gun violence, minor character death

“This came in just a few minutes ago from the Director,��� Prentiss confirms.  With the click of a button on the remote, a local news station clip projects onto the screen behind her, illuminating the chaos underway. “There’s a situation downtown that he wants the BAU to take the lead on.”

With bewilderment on his face, a reporter stands in downtown Washington D.C., which was littered with law enforcement and a crowd of people. The headline across the bottom of the screen reads ‘Hostage situation underway at Capital One Bank’. 

Luke drops the pen he was holding, drawing attention from other members of the team as it clashes on the table in front of him.  

“Sorry,” he mumbled. The rest of the team averted their attention back to Prentiss, but Luke’s attention was halted in its tracks. Instinctively, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, quickly checking his messages under the table. He tries to remain calm and rational, but his stomach sinks when he realizes none of the messages were from you.  

Luke had been in a rush this morning, per usual. He was running around the house, scrambling for keys, wallet, coffee, his to-go bag, just in case. He only half listened as you told him the list of errands you had to run that morning, while simultaneously scarfing down a buttered bagel.  Whole foods, the post office, the bank–

Luke swallows dryly. You were okay, he tells himself. You were okay, you were okay, you were okay. He repeats the mantra in his head as he types out a quick, casual message.  

Did you make it to the bank this morning?

Luke forces himself to turn at least some of his attention back to the team, but keeps his phone unlocked and open to your text messages.   

“Local officers have invited us in,” Prentiss informs the group, she sets the remote down gently on the round table. “They’ve informed us of at least two armed man inside the bank, no contact or ransom demand has been made as of yet. Garcia is working to gain access to security footage of inside the bank as we speak.” 

The sounds of Garcia typing frantically on her laptop can be heard throughout the conference room as she works.  

Luke stares back down at his blank screen, waiting for text bubbles to appear, indicating that you were responding– alive and well.  But there’s nothing. Luke starts frantically tapping his foot, why weren’t you texting him back?

“Alvez?” Emily’s voice causes Luke’s head to snap up.   

Luke is quick to realize that the entire team is looking at him again as he sits anxiously in his seat, his phone still cradled in the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” he repeats. 

This time no one looks away. 

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asks, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m uh, I’m sorry.” Luke says for the third time. He tries to explain while his brain races. “My wife… My wife told me she was running errands this morning, that she had to go to the bank–”  

The moment of silence feels like an eternity to Luke. 

“That’s our bank,” he motioned towards the screen, still playing news clips on the board. “Do you mind if I just give her a quick call?” He asks, holding his phone up. 

Prentiss nods. “Of course.”

Luke mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before jetting out of the conference room. He escapes into the hall before dialing you. Luke can feel his heart beating rapidly inside of his chest as the line waits to connect– but he’s sent straight to voicemail. 

Luke tries again. He’s not entirely sure why he expected a different outcome, but again, your cheery voice directing him to leave a message plays. This time he does. 

“Hey, it’s me. I just– I really need to hear from you right now.” Luke swallows the lump in his throat, realizing how dry his mouth felt. “Call me back, please. I love you.” He ends the call and turns his phone over in his hand a few times. You were okay, he tells himself again. 

“I– uh, couldn’t get ahold of her,” Luke states as he walks back into the conference room. He makes eye contact with Rossi, who’s gazing wearily back at him. “But I’m sure everything’s fine.” Luke says with as much confidence as he can gather. He’s not so sure he believes it himself. 

That’s when Luke notices how eerily quiet everyone else is. He glances around the room to see everyone else staring at the screen.  

Garcia had managed to tap into the security footage at the bank. Luke scans the image, his eyes immediately landing on the unsub.  He was a tall man, dressed in all black, strutting around the frame with a rifle.  He’s waving it wildly as he randomly lunges intimidatingly at one of the victims huddled on the floor.  There’s no sound to the video, but it looks like he’s shouting at them. 

Garcia suddenly lets out a gasp, her mouth falling open in unison. “No,” she whimpers, she tore her eyes away from the image on the screen to look at Luke. 

Everything inside of him goes numb when his eyes land on one of the hostages curled up on the ground, her knees tucked tightly into her chest, and her familiar looking hair shielding her face as she hangs her head low. There’s a tense silence in the room as Luke stands motionless near the door. Only his chest moved as he let out choppy, labored breaths.  

He could feel eyes on him as the rest of the team came to the same realization he and Garcia just had. You were inside the bank. 

“We are gonna get this guy,” Prentiss says hesitantly, like Luke might break just by her words. 

Luke just nods slowly. He couldn’t find the words to respond, even if he wanted to.    

“She’s going to be okay,” JJ closes the distance between her and him and places a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder.

Luke should say something. He can’t just keep nodding, but all he could think about right now was you, and the way he rushed out of the house in such a hurry this morning. He didn’t even kiss you goodbye– or tell you that he loved you. What if that was the last time he’d ever see you?

“We have to get to the scene,” Prentiss declares somberly. She eyes Luke cautiously, but the clock is ticking.  

JJ lifts her hand off Luke’s arm, leaving behind a cold spot that made him shiver. She follows Tara, Matt and Reid out of the conference room.   

Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia remain in the conference room with Luke.  

Prentiss clears her throat before speaking. “Luke, you know you can’t come with us on this one.”

His jaw tenses at her order and he finally breaks his silence. “Screw the protocol, Emily, there’s no way I’m staying back here.”

“Luke, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now,” Rossi says softly.  He stands up from his chair and looks at Luke sympathetically.  

“Don’t–” Luke whispers. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he blinks them back before sighing heavily. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of the victims’ families.”

Prentiss and Rossi both stare at Luke for a moment, neither one knowing what else to say.   

“Emily, please,” Luke sighs, he lets his shoulders fall slightly. “I can’t stay here and do nothing.”  

She sighs heavily and she turns to face Rossi, like she’s looking to the more experienced profiler for advice. They exchange a mutual nod before she responds. “Look at me, Luke.”  His eyes meet hers. “You have to remain level headed and you have to follow my orders. Or I will take you off the case.”

Luke understands that Prentiss was legally bound to follow protocol. He wishes that rules and regulations could be pushed aside at times like this, but he nods in agreement. He would have to control his emotions in the field.  

Emily nods back in affirmation before offering him a sympathetic look. She outstretches her hand and gives his shoulder a firm squeeze. “If it’s personal for one of us, it’s personal for all of us.” She tells him, implying what Luke already knew: that they wouldn’t rest until this was all over. 

A variety of emotions flood through Luke’s mind as he rides in the back seat of one of the SUVs to the scene.  Luke shared the car with Tara, Matt, and Reid, but didn’t speak to any of them. Instead he stares directly out the tinted window, remaining silent during the entire duration of their trip. 

Spencer kept turning his head subtly towards Luke, in an attempt to gauge how he was doing. It was hard for him to see his friend suffering like this. Luke was generally the confident, reassuring one, but today he just looked broken.  

The prospect of losing you was all too consuming as he thought about the careless and threatening way the unsub had been waving his rifle around. He thought about how you had been huddled on the ground, curled up and hiding your face against your knees. He thought about how you were probably wondering where Luke was, and why he wasn’t there to protect you. 

Luke swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to blink back tears building pressure up behind his eyes.  

How could this be happening?

…

A round of loud pops rang loudly through the air.

“Everybody on the ground!” 

Confused by the sudden chaos around you, your eyes quickly shift towards the door. Two men in combat gear stand there, their faces covered by ski masks. It takes you a moment to realize that the things they were holding high above their heads were guns. Your stomach drops.

You crouch to the floor in an instant, hastily trying to gauge the situation. Your view is partially blocked by the bench in the middle of the bank, all you can hear is frightened cries and the sound of heavy boots trudging across the floor. You scoot out from behind the bench so that you could better see what was happening.  

Someone is talking with the men, probably a teller, you think. Their voices are angry and harsh. 

Suddenly, in the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard. At first, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, thinking that law enforcement would be able to save you all soon enough. 

But then, you hear someone curse loudly then a pair of boots stride back to the counter.  

“Did you call 911?” One man asks. His voice is eerily calm. You watch as the teller shakes his head, terrified. The man laughs before raising his gun, shoving it near the teller. “Don’t lie to me!” He screams, causing you to jump. 

The teller continues to shake his head, sobbing and pleading now. You watch as the robber rips the mask off, displaying his face. He smirks evilly before spinning his rifle around and jabbing it into the teller’s face. You jump in shock as he falls to the floor, groaning in pain.    

Someone screams, another person sobs.  

Fear floods through your entire body upon realizing that these men weren’t leaving peacefully.  Now that their heist had been cut short, they weren’t going down without a fight. The heavy boots came closer and your eyes quickly became clouded with tears.  

Your eyes remain fixated on the floor, even after the footsteps stop right in front of you. 

“Get up,” the man orders. 

You do as you were told, trying your best to steady your shaking hands. Everyone else gets up too, as the other robber circulates the room repeating the same order. 

“Congratulations,” the man said menacingly. He lifts his gloved hand to trace the outline of your jaw. Your nostrils flare in response to his touch. “You’ve just been upgraded from background noise to hostages. Thanks to whoever called the cops.”

He motions for people to head towards the back corner of the bank. Once everyone is gathered around in a semicircle, (you counted eleven other hostages) the robbers bark more orders.

“Cell phones, now.”

People hurry to throw their phones towards the middle of the circle. You pull yours out, your heart sinking when you see an unopened message from Luke flash across your screen. 

‘Did you make it to the bank?’  

You wonder if the BAU had gotten wind about what was happening yet. You clutch your phone tightly before tossing it on the tiled floor with everyone else's.  

No one speaks, everyone just watches as the two men circulate around the room. You curl your knees into your chest, hugging them tightly. 

“You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone,” you hear the masked man whisper to the other. “You said we’d just take the money and go.”

“There’s cops outside, Diggy, we’re surrounded. The only way we’re getting out of here is a negotiation. Or if we shoot our way out.”

He strokes his beard lightly, another smirk washing over his face. “Now take that off,” he nods towards his partner’s mask. “Don’t matter much anymore if they see your face, does it?”

The man peels off his mask to reveal his young face. His features are furrowed, like he was concerned. “Cops have protocols they have to follow,” he says to the bearded man. “They won’t just barge in here unless you hurt anyone, so cool it. We can figure this out.”

Just then, the phone starts ringing.  

The older man answers, “What?” he barked. 

You hear muffled voices on the other end of the line.  

“Oh yeah?” He said mockingly, “And what can you do for me, SSA David Rossi of the BAU?”

You let out a shaky breath upon hearing the name of your husband’s coworker. The BAU had been invited in– which meant Luke knew. You wonder if he was outside, too. 

It makes your chest ache to know there was such a small barrier between you and his safe arms.   

“I’ll tell you what I need, I need a way out of here, or else people are going to get hurt.”

You hear Rossi’s muffled voice on the other end of the line again, no doubt using his profiling skills to help defuse the situation. You see the man’s brows slide into a firm line, like he’s thinking hard about something Rossi’s said. But in an instant his face contorts into an angry scowl and he clenches his rifle tighter. 

“Get me a way out of here or they die,” he snarls, before hanging up the phone. 

The man walks back over to the group of hostages with malice in his eyes. He scans the faces of people before landing on a scared woman, looking to be in her early 30’s. He bends over and wraps his hand around her arm, hoisting her up on her feet. 

“No,” she pleads, tears streaming rapidly down her face. “Please, no,” she sobs. 

“Shut up,” the man yells, lifting his gun tauntingly, before dragging her from the group.  

“What are you doing?” you can’t believe you were speaking, you even startle yourself with your words. 

But he doesn’t even turn around– doesn’t even acknowledge that you had protested.  

He pulls her towards the end of one of the teller stations and scribbles something down on a piece of paper. The woman stands by, shaking terribly in her shoes. When the man stops writing he hands her the note. 

“Take this to the cops,” he orders. 

“W-what?”

“Take this to the cops,” he repeats, slower this time. 

She nods, her trembling hands accepting the note. 

…

“Guys–” Tara says. 

The team turns to face where her attention was focused. The front doors of the bank were opening.  

Luke hurries to unholster his gun, his shaky hands gripping the handle as he and every other cop in the area draws their weapons. 

Confusion washes over him as a woman exits the bank, her hands above her head. 

“Please,” she sobs.  

SWAT rushes over to escort the woman to safety.  

“He told me to give you this,” she cries, handing a note over to the SWAT member.  

Prentiss rushes over to take the note, reading aloud the demands.

“Two million dollars and an escape plan. Every 30 minutes you keep me waiting, someone will die.”

The knot in Luke’s stomach tightens. 

…

“Tick tock,” the bearded robber states as he struts around the interior of the bank. The younger man had been quietly sitting on the bench, staring at his shoes for the last few minutes or so. 

The robber picks up the phone, dialing the number that had previously reached out. 

“Is this Rossi?” he snarls into the line. “It’s almost been thirty minutes.”

You watch as the robber converses with Rossi. You’re wondering what he’s saying. 

“You just got someone killed.” He hangs the phone up harshly before taking a deep breath, staring at the clock on the wall. 

“And thirty.” The robber made his way back over to the hostages. He doesn’t hesitate before pulling up the older man who had been praying silently next to you. 

“No!” you cry, trying to grab his hand to pull him back, but the robber just yanks him harder.  

The man is dragged across the floor, but he’s still visible to you. He’s slammed down on the floor on his knees, facing away from the robbers. Your eyes widen as the man brings the rifle up, only inches from the elderly man’s head. You know you should look away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, especially when he turns his head and locks eyes with you.  

You are the last thing he sees before the robber pulls the trigger.  

You’re too terrified to scream, or cry, or do much of anything. You just stare in shock as the man collapses into a pool of his own blood.  

“That’s what happens when these cops don’t listen to me!” He rants, waving the gun around. He fires a couple of more shots into the ceiling, causing debris to fall. More screams rattle the interior of the bank. 

“What are you doing?” The quieter robber stands up fiercely and rushes over to his partner. He looks frantically at the dead body on the floor. “You just killed someone!” 

They get in each other's faces. “I’m doing what I have to do to get us out of here!” he screams back. He postures towards the younger boy, intimidating him into backing down.  “I’m trying to save us, Diggy.”

“But killing someone, man? I didn’t sign up for that, Kalo.”

“You just gotta trust me, okay?” The older man, you now knew was named Kalo, spoke. 

Diggy lowers his head, biting his lip harshly. He shakes his head, still in shock that things had gone so wrong, so fast. 

…

“Were those gunshots?” Reid asks, worry evident in his voice. 

“Those were gunshots,” JJ confirms, strapping her vest on tightly. 

Luke squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “We have to go in there,” he states, trying to remain calm. 

Rossi lowers the phone that he had been talking to the unsub on. “He said we just got someone killed.”

“If they’re shooting people, we have to go in–” Luke speaks up again. He’s terrified. What if it was you?

“It wasn’t her,” Matt speaks up. He’s watching the video footage that Luke had been too scared to check. “It looks like an older gentleman.”

Luke lets out a shaky sigh. He feels guilty for being relieved about someone else’s death, but he couldn’t help it. He looks at the clock stationed above the monitor. In another 24 minutes, it could be you. 

“What’s our game plan, here?” One of the SWAT members asks.  

Emily sighs. “We have to play this smart– these guys are reckless and they’re not going down without a fight. If we barge in there, they’ll just start shooting. Who knows how many hostages could get hit in the crossfire?”

“If we don’t go in there, he’s just going to keep executing them one-by-one.” Matt refutes. 

Emily nods. “Someone get me the layout of this building, I need to see the back entrances and side doors. If we go in, I want them surrounded.”

…

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. But sitting here, on the cold tile floor, surrounded by people you didn’t know and two masked assailants, wasn’t something you think you could have ever imagined.  

You wonder how Luke was doing– you knew how protective of you he was. You just hope the team has convinced him to keep a level head. 

The woman sitting next to you was spinning her wedding band around on her finger rapidly.  

“What’s his name?” you ask, motioning towards her ring. 

She looks up at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “Julian,” she spoke softly, her lips tugging into a sad smile. “And yours?” she asks. 

You touch your finger to your own ring. “Luke.”

You move your hand across the floor and rest it on top of hers. “We’re going to see them again.”

She nods, using her other hand to cover the sob that was escaping her lips.  

“These FBI agents just don’t learn, do they?” Kalo snarls as he struts across the floor. “They’re gonna let another one of you die.”

This time, he came straight for you. His firm grasp hauls you up to your feet, and before you had time to protest or fight back, he was dragging you to where he’d shot the last man. 

Your breath became choppy and uneven as fear flooded your insides. You were going to die. He was going to kill you. 

“Kalo– stop, no one else has to die!” His friend protests. He even reaches out to pull you away from his clutches, but Kalo shakes him off, jolsting you away from the other man. 

“Kalo!” he shouts, but his partner ignores him.

Just as you get to the middle of the floor, an array of loud bangs echo through the bank, causing you to jump. 

“FBI. Freeze!” A voice yells, before you realize what was happening, Kalo is wrapping his arm around you, and pulling you back against him. The hard barrel of his gun presses against your temple, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’ll shoot her!” Kalo hollers back, his forearm jabs into your throat. 

When you finally get your bearings, you’re able to look around the room. You see a few faces you recognize.  

The first is Emily. She’s got her gun pointed right at you– or the man holding you, you suppose.  Rossi is beside her, he holds his gun up in his hand before holstering it. 

“We just want to talk, Kalo,” he says calmly.  

Of course they figured out who these guys were, you thought. With Garcia’s tracking abilities, she probably had the men identified within the first five minutes of the robbery. 

You also notice JJ and Matt, they were to the side of you. Clearly they’d found a way in through another door. Reid and Tara flank on the opposite side, they made their way around the two of you, ensuring that the robbers were surrounded. You scan and scan for Luke, but he isn’t there.  It was probably against some policy. You are glad he was following the rules, but you still wish he was there– you wish you could see his face. 

“I’m done talking!” Kalo screams back. His grip tightens and you struggle to breathe. “Go away, or I’ll kill her!” 

He was losing control, you can tell. You squeeze your eyes shut and think about Luke some more. You let his face appear in your mind, his warm brown eyes and soft smile came into focus.  It makes you sad, thinking you may never be able to hear his voice again– or feel his touch.    

“You know we can’t do that, Kalo. Put the gun down and we can work this out.” Rossi says calmly. You open your eyes again. 

“I’m not going back to prison.” Kalo mutters. His arm becomes shaky as it is pushed deeper into your throat, you gag as your airway becomes almost completely blocked. 

“Kalo– don’t do this,” Rossi pleads with the man, he senses that he is about to snap. 

“I’m not going back to prison!” Kalo shouts, and you know– you know that this was it. 

A loud gunshot rings out and you feel yourself dropping to the floor. Your entire body goes numb. You’re sure that you’re dead. 

But as you collapse to the tile floors, you slowly realize that there was no pain– or darkness. You open your eyes to find Kalo lying lifeless next to you. His eyes are still open as blood starts to spread across the ground. You push yourself away, realizing the crimson liquid had splattered all over you and your clothing. You scoot backwards until you ram into the bench.  

You look around the room as the agents jump into action. Rossi hurries to Kalo, kicking his gun out of the way before kneeling down to check his pulse.  

Matt, JJ, and Tara rush to gather up the other hostages, still huddling on the floor in the corner.  

Emily crosses the room to put handcuffs on the other robber. Diggy stands with his gun still pointing at his partner. The smoke is still curling off the end of the barrel as he looks at his fallen friend. 

As Emily approaches him, he drops the weapon, showing that he is willing to go peacefully. 

“No one was supposed to die,” he says in shock. “I had to shoot him.” 

Emily starts telling him his rights when you are approached by a soft, calm voice. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says soothingly. He kneels beside you. “Are you hurt?” he asks. 

You shake your head, your eyes staring blankly at him as you try to regain the feeling in your body. 

“Can you stand?” Spencer asks wearily.  

You nod, slowly getting to your feet, with support from Spencer.  

“Luke–” you manage to spit out. Your voice is shaky. 

Spencer nods, wrapping his around your waist reassuringly, “Luke’s here,” he tells you. “I’m gonna take you to him.”

Spencer leads you outside of the bank. The sunlight is almost blinding and you hold your arms up to shield some of it. You want to search for Luke, to scream out his name, but your senses are betraying you.  

Your knees wobble, and you rely way too much on Spencer’s support to get down the steps of the building. You lean into his side, almost ready to fall, when you hear your name being called by a familiar voice. 

“She’s okay,” Spencer tells Luke as he darts across the sidewalk towards you.   

You barely have time to lay your eyes on him before he’s replacing Spencer’s arm with his own embrace. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by his touch and smell and everything Luke. It takes a moment for you to realize it’s real– that your husband is here and that you’re finally safe in his arms. But when you do, you let it consume you. You collapse into his frame and wind your arms tightly around his neck, squeezing like you just couldn’t get close enough. Your face presses into the nape of his neck and you breathe in his warm, familiar scent. 

“You’re okay?” Luke asks, finally pulling back to assess the damage that had been done.  

He winces when he sees the blood covering your shirt. “It’s not mine,” you whisper, knowing what he was looking so concerned about.

It was his– the man who had inflicted upon you the worst day of your entire life. You scratch at the fabric, suddenly desperate for it to come off. 

“I want to go home,” you tell Luke. 

He nods softly. “I’m gonna take you home.”

…

You stand in the bathroom later that night, staring at the reflection looking back at you. Your eyes were hollow– lifeless. The shower is running, the steam already rising above the curtain and starting to cause the mirror to fog up.  

You peel off your shirt to showcase the deep, discoloration already evident on your neck from where the robber had held you. You were tracing the line of bruises across your skin when the wave hit you. In an instant, you let out an earth shattering sob. The cries come from deep within you and wrack your entire body.  

You’re heaving so loudly that you don’t even hear Luke enter the bathroom. Only when he is behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into your chest did you notice his presence. 

He holds you like that for a while, muttering sweet nothings into your hair and swaying you gently. When your sobs finally subside, he slowly starts helping you undress. First, he helps you unclasp your bra, then he undoes your pants, and acts as a balance support while you step out of them.  

Once you are finally naked, he starts undressing himself.  He is much faster than you. 

Luke leads you into the shower and piles in behind you. The warm water washes over you causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin as you adjust to the sudden heat. 

Luke is gentle. He helps rinse the hardened blood that was caked in your hair out. You watch the water that falls off your skin turn crimson as it swirls down the drain.  He softly takes a washcloth and runs it up and down your skin, you lean into his touch, grateful that he is here to help you. 

Luke plants random kisses all over your skin as he washes it. On your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your shoulder. When he gets to your collarbone, he stops. Luke’s fingertips ran across the bruise that had been left behind on you. You watch as his face twists in pain. He hates seeing you hurt. He hates the fact that he couldn’t stop this from happening to you. 

You break Luke out of his trance by gathering his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Your team saved me today,” you tell him. “You saved me.”

Luke brings your hand to his lips and softly kisses your knuckles. 

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” you tell him. On the last word, your voice breaks, and you start crying softly again. 

Luke pulls you in closer, his hands winding down your back. You press your face against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you like that for a long time, until the hot water causes your fingertips to prune and until the mirror is completely covered in fog. Luke holds you tightly, his head resting against your wet hair as you breathe against his rising chest. 

You sigh heavily. For now, you are content like that. In fact, you don’t think you’d care if the two of you stayed in the shower forever You could spend an entire lifetime like that– wrapped up in Luke’s safe embrace. 

[louierecs]

— ୨୧₊˚ fic rec masterlist

The Walking Dead;

Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Glenn Rhee, Abraham Ford, Negan Smith, Shane Walsh, Carl Grimes

Call Of Duty;

Johnathan Price, Simon 'Ghost' Riley, John 'Soap' MacTavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Alex Keller, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Phillip Graves, Keegan P. Russ, Makarov

Criminal Minds;

Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Luke Alvez

911;

Bobby Nash, Evan 'Buck' Buckley, Eddie Diaz

Outer banks;

Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank, John B, Pope Heyward

Sons of Anarchy;

Jackson 'Jax' Teller, Filip 'Chibs' Telford, Juan Carlos 'Juice' Ortiz, Alexander 'Tig' Trager, Happy Lowman, Opie Winston

Triple Frontier;

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia, Francisco 'Catfish' Morales, Will Miller, Ben Miller

The Bear;

Carmen Berzatto, Michael Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich, Luca

Marvel;

Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Deadpool, Wolverine, Frank Castle

Marauders;

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, poly!marauders

Harry Potter, golden era;

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, and Cedric Diggory

Slytherin Boys;

Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, Regulus Black

Youtube;

Harry Lewis, Tobi Brown, Simon Minter, Niko Omilana, Sharky, Aj Shabeel, ChrisMD, Willne, Calfreezy, TheBurntChip, George Clarkey

Other Characters One;

Javier Pena, Steve Murphy, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Benny Cross, Agent Whiskey, Eggsy Unwin, Jim Hopper, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Arthur Morgan, Joel Miller (game version)

Other Characters Two;

Carl Gallagher, Lip Gallagher, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Oscar 'Spooky' Diaz, Cesar Diaz, Nick Amaro, Sonny Carisi, Joshua 'Scud' Fromeyer, Griff, Sam Rossi, Nate Archibald, Diego Hargreeves

More Recs of my top characters;

Daryl Dixon, Simon Riley, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Rafe Cameron and more Rafe, Carmen Berzatto, Frank Castle, Logan Howlett, Wade Wilson

⋆˚࿔ layout credit to @ruewrote 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[beelmons]

Hotch being like Garcia and Morgan whenever they call each other. Oh imagine it during the case✨😮‍💨

Hotch: what have you got sweetheart?

R: *chuckling*……this my soon to be husband

This just a came out of nowhere, i gotta say I literally L O V E your writing.

Change it However I like

I Hope that botch sides of your pillow are always cold. Bye<3

Not-so-professional

cw: hotch x fem!reader, link on the text lead's to my wife's fic 'honey bun' since it's a reference to her work!!! read it!!!

You loved helping the BAU out, you didn't often have the chance to, but every once in a while, when your poor friend Penelope was overworked, you would be assigned to help out with data analysis. You were forever thankful for that annoying day in which you first aided the BAU, ever demanding of new information, since it allowed you to meet Aaron Hotchner, fall in love, and end up engaged with just a couple of days to go for your wedding.

But there would be time to dwell into all that later, since today you had to be top of your game; they were getting close, and you were certain they would ask for information soon. And at last, the phone rang.

"This is future Mrs. Hotchner speaking, how can I be of help?" you said with a wide smile on your face.

His subordinates expected a scowl, or at least a reprimand for your unprofessional behavior, but they were pleased to see that, instead, their boss's lips had curled up into a smitten crescent.

"Mrs. Hotchner, we need information on Javier Perez's bank account transactions." halfway through the sentence, his tone had gotten back to the stern one he was accostumed to. "Coming right up, sweet cheeks," you paused for a second as you clicky-clacked your way through the bank systems "Seems like little Perez has been up to some naughty deeds. He spent around a hundred dollars in a hardware store, ropes, tape, your usal beginner kidnapper kit, and— Oh, my, my," you exclaimed in surprise, catching their attention.

"What is it?" you heard Rossi ask from the other side of the line.

"He spent about five hundred dollars at a place called Ms. Honey Bun's Toys For Adults. And I'm guessing they don't exactly sell over-complicated legos." you clarified.

They all exchanged amused looks at your statement, everyone but Hotch who simply kept his eyebrows furrowed.

"Anything else?" the boss finally asked.

"Nothing relevant, my love. Hope that helped." you said, your tone going back to professional since his seemed to be so as well.

"Swetheart, you always know how to help me." his tone had switched unpromted to a flirty one, indicating that there was a hidden meaning behind his words "And while you're free why don't check around if Ms. Honey's store has a website?" he indicated.

You beamed in your place and exclaimed a quick 'on it' as you hung up the phone.

On the other side of the line, Hotch kept hopelessly smiling at the speaker that had recently gone dead, with his particular i'm-not-really-smiling face that he so stubbornly wore at the office. He was too entranced to notice the entire team had gone quiet, simply staring in his direction. He finally raised his sight and realized he was the center of attention, which caused a confused look out of him.

"Honeymoon preparations?" Derek asked with his usual teasing tone.

Aaron had to clear his throat, trying to impose his authority again, before he spoke. "Everyone get back to work."

Needless to say, after Morgan texted the entire exchange to her, Penelope was very proud.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Masterlist

Last Updated: 5/28/2024

Fair warning to anyone who reads some of the series on here, a lot of them are unfinished, I started writing them years ago. I may go back and finish some of them, i may not. If there is a series you find that you enjoy that is unfinished let me know!

ALL FICS ARE FEMALE READER UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED. (I am more than happy to write all other kinds of readers, I fully support LGBTQIA+on this blog.)

One Shots

Spencer Reid: Stir Crazy Alone Late Nights Bothered Dr. Reid? What Should I Reid? Bookworms (Male!Reader) You're Dating Who?! Home Silent Moments Turned Tables

David Rossi: Homework Pile Up (Daughter!Reader)

Aaron Hotchner: Ruined (Platonic!Reader) Soothing Voices

Series

Spencer Reid: Mistakes Were Made; 1,2,3,4 Boy Wonder and Family Prequel; 1,2 Boy wonder and Family; 1,2,3, Don't Let Me Go; 1,2,3,4,5

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Dean Winchester: Baby Mine

Sam Winchester: Living Blood Bank S'pise

Sam and Dean Winchester: Without you

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Simon "Ghost" Riley Don't Own Me Bittersweet Troublesome Feelings

Keegan P Russ Brothers Best Friend

Series

Poly!Task Force 141 All Hands On Deck, 2, 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley One Night Stand: 1 ,2,3,4 5,6,7,8

Captain John Price Coming Home To You: 1,2,3

Blurbs

Simon "Ghost" Riley Faking his own death Money Teenage Daughter Simon hates seeing you cry, "Yeah i think you're hot," Not Coming Home

John "Soap" MacTavish Hopeless Flirt Coming home from a long mission Sundresses and Sorrow

Simon Riley X John Mactavish X Reader Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny, missing gear.

Captain John Price Tarmac and Tears

Requests

Simon "Ghost" Riley Body Image Freckles Control

Headcannons

Oneshots

Stiles Stilinski Study Breaks

Series

Blurbs

Headcannons

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Sleepless in Not-Seattle

Barbie dolls: Derek Morgan x gn! Sheriff!gn! Reader

Word: 2.4k

Summary:you're the sheriff of a town and meet an agent in hotchners team that's quite interesting

Warnings: insinuated you're a Texan sheriff bc I'm Texan and I can do what I want, cannon typical violence, Emily makes a bad. Joke, you're sad, you want to make a shelters for prostitutes, they don't kiss, ok goodnight

“Aaron.” You said, reaching out for Hotch. He pulled you into a hug, greeting you with your first name. You pulled back. 

You knew Hotch from years ago. He and his team came to your town to help with a case that was out of your hands. You weren’t the Sheriff at the time, you were the deputy. His small team was in and out of your doors in less than three days, catching your killer. You accidentally saved Hotch’s life, shoving him out of the way of a bullet headed straight for his heart. It grazed your arm and even though it hurt like hell at the time you were glad it was saving your ass now. Hotch owed you a favor and now that you were sitting in the Sheriff’s chair you were catching all the heat for not slapping cuffs on another killer at large in your town. You called Hotch and now he was pushing through your door with his now large team following behind him. 

“Good to see you, no bullet wounds so that’s good. This is it. You’ve got a whole conference room I’ve set everything up in for you. I know how y’all work so I even stocked it with some bad coffee and partially stale donuts. Yay!” You said, shaking your hands in the air as a false celebration. A small smile bit at Hotch’s lips. He turned back to the line of five people behind him. 

He pointed to a woman with black hair and bangs, her thumbs pushed behind her belt. “That is SSA Emily Prentiss.” He moved his finger over one, pointing to an older man with speckled hair. “SSA David Rossi.” Hotch moved his finger over once again, now pointing to a young man with long hair and his hands shoved in his pockets. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” You quirked a brow at that, what the hell kind of doctor is 12? Hotch moved his hand over, pointing to a woman in a pressed suit with long blonde hair. “Our Liaison Jenifer Jareauo.” He pointed to a tall man with a tight shirt and smirk that made you want to call him a dickhead. “And finally SSA Derek Morgan,” Hotch said, dropping his hand. You smiled, waving at them. 

“Nice to meet y'all, if you follow me we can get started. I do not want any more dead bodies on my hands.” You said, leading them off to the confernce room. You heard whispers from Hotch's team, probally about the first name basis between you two. 

Two women were found in your nearby lake. It was awful. They had their hands and feet cut off and you couldn’t find them. All the women were found dressed in white dresses and lying in the bank. The lake wasn’t even pretty. The water was brown and the trees were dead. Those poor women were butchered and didn’t even get to rest somewhere nice.  The local news made it some kind of fun story the public got to learn about. It was passed around diner tables like gossip followed up by recaps of their favorate reality TV show. The press gave the killer a fun name and blamed you because you couldn’t catch him quick enough to stop another woman from losing her life.  

You felt sick every time you looked at the crime scene photos pinned up on their board. Hotch's team had already been there for two days and there was another woman found in the lake. It felt like you were standing on a cliff, teetering on the edge of catching this son of a bitch.  You leaned back on the confrence table, your legs outstreached in front of you. Most of your officers went home for the night, night shift was about to walk in. You even sent home your deputy. She complained but you told her something about how it was better to work a case with fresh eyes than tired ones. You were even sure all of the BAU went back to their hotel. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave yet. You knew those women were left alone in the lake while the last smidge of life left them. Now that you had their pictures and lifeless faces staring back at you on the board you couldn’t leave them alone. It felt like their deaths really were on you. It wasn’t their fault the system failed them and left them to turn to a life of prostitution. It wasn’t their fault some dick bag picked them up and held them for three days, torturing them in every way you didn’t want to think of. It wasn’t their fault he then dragged them sedated to the lake and cut off their hands and feet. It wasn’t their fault their last moment was of pain. You couldn’t leave the precinct because felt like you were letting them down again. Now you were just staring at the board hoping the answer would come to you. 

“Sheriff?” You sniffled and wipped your eyes as fast as you could, looking back at the confrence room door. SSA Morgan was standing in the doorway, his hand raised like he was about to knock. 

“Yes? What do you need?” You answered, pretending like your voice didn’t sound tense. Morgan stepped into the conference room, standing next to your spot on the conference room table. He stared at the board with you. 

“You know, it’s best if you sleep and return to the case rested?” You hummed. 

“Yes, actually I told my deputy that.” You said, staring at the picture of the Lake’s shore. Victim number two’s heart shaped locket buried in the rocks. Morgan sighed, leaning back on the table with you. His hip pressed into yours and you pretended like you didn’t notice. 

“So why are you still here?” Morgan asked, raising a brow at you. You looked away from the board. 

“I could ask you the same.” 

“I asked first so you have to answer first.” Morgan sassed, tilting his head to the side with cockiness you didn’t particually enjoy. It still made you grin, falling the second you looked back at the board again. 

“They were so beautiful. Victoria had a baby girl and 4-year-old son waiting for her to get home, their pictures in her locket. Sophie who did scrapbooking, had two entire bookshelves full of them. All the good times of her life were decorated perfectly. And Clemintine was a quilter. She was selling custom quilts on Ebay. She was saving up all the money in cash, shoved into a can labeled ‘freedom’. Now they’re all missing their hands and feet and sitting in a morgue. Their lives were stolen from them because I couldn’t pull my own weight as Sheriff. Their blood is on my hands as much as the killers.” You said, sniffing when you felt tears brimming in your eyes. Moragn made a sympathizing sound. 

“This isn’t your fault at all. It relies fully on the killer’s shoulders. The press is getting to your head. They point fingers at the first person who shows their face. There is no blood on your badge but there is on the killer’s blade. We will catch this son of bitch. These women will rest peacefully, and their families will get peace knowing their killer is behind bars. You’ll catch him.” You sucked in a shaky breath and stared at the board. You didn’t think this would be over when this case closed but you appreciated him anyway. 

“You know, I actually didn’t like you when you walked into my town but now I moderatly enjoy you.” You said, smirking at him. Morgan scoffed out a laugh and clutched his chest in faux hurt. 

“Oh, you wound me! What did I ever do to you?” You shrugged. 

“I think I’m going to go home. Maybe rest a little.” You whispered, staring at Victoria’s locket again. Morgan hummed. “You should too.” You added. You stood from the table. 

“Oh, what great advice. I wonder where you got that from.” Morgan teased, smiling at you as you headed towards the door. 

“Just the good ol’ noggin, sweetheart.” You said, heading off towards your office to gather your things. 

Two days later you caught the sick bastard and without any more lives were lost. The hands and feet were shoved in his freezer and Doctor Reid told you something about something. You wanted to deck the killer so hard but the look Morgan gave you told you it was better if you didn’t. 

“Is there anything else you need?” She asked, her coat thrown over her arm. You shook your head. 

Later that week you were in your office, typing away at your computer. Your brows were furrowed and you kept turning away from the screen to scribble at the pad infront of you. Once again it was late at night and most of the precinct was empty. Your deputy knocks on your open door, making you look up. 

“You go home, and by the way you should start calling it a night sooner. I’m starting to worry you’re a workoholic.” You said, cracking a smile at her. She groaned and shook her head at you. 

“I’ll clock out sooner when you do.” You shooed her away with your hand and turned back to your computer. As you dipped back into your zone you heard another knock. 

“Deputy, I told you to go home.” You said, looking up to find Morgan and not your deputy. He smirked at you and settled into the chair on the other side of your desk for guests. 

“Staying up late again?” Morgan asked, clasping his hands in his lap. You dropped your pen, leaning back in your chair. 

“I thought you would’ve already left town?” You said, turning your chair side to side. Morgan tilted his head to the side. 

“Oh we had personal business we had to handle, but I wanted to come check on you before we left.” You hummed at him. 

“Oh isn’t that sweet? You care about little ol’ me?” Morgan snorted, shaking his head at you. He glanced down at his lap and looked back up to you. 

“That and we wanted to pay our respects at the funerals.” The mood in the room dampened. You blinked and glanced at your computer to ignore the difference. 

“I saw you there. You look nice in black.” You scoffed at Morgan and sighed. 

“I gave Victoria her locket back, it was still evidence until then. We didn’t need it. I sent Sophie down with her fullest scrapbook, that might’ve been a bad idea cause now her set is missing one but I wanted her to have it in her afterlife. She could reminisce and think back on the good times, maybe that’d help her with the pain of going out the way she did. I gave Clemintine a little bird themed quilt so she could feel free. Her funds went to her best friend and now she’s on a bus to the next city over, a fresh start.” You said, feeling like Morgan jusst wanted to see if you still felt guilty. Morgan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the edge of your desk. 

“You’re very kind. What are you working on now?” Morgan asked. You glanced down at your paper. 

“I’m trying to figure out a way to make a shelter. A warm home for prositiutes to come to. A person to worry about them, somebody to make sure they get home before curfew and get fed warm food. I just keep thinking about how those women would’ve been safer if someone had been waiting on them. Victoria was the one that caught our attention because her mother came in with the two kids hanging off her. Sophie was already gone by then. We didn’t even notice, nobody filed anything. We wouldn’t have seen Clemintine if we weren’t looking. Now that I’m actually trying to work this out, it’s harder than I expected.” You said, flinging your pen at your paper again and sighing. A smile was playing on Morgan’s lips. 

“You should join the BAU,” Morgan said. You laughed at that one. Leaning forward on your desk to laugh louder. Morgan leaned back in his chair to let out an awkward chuckle. Your laugh died down and you wiped at your eyes. 

“Oh wow. I haven’t laughed like that in a while. Go ahead, tell me why you think I should join the FBI.” You said, even chuckling through saying it. Morgan clicked his tongue. 

“I think you’d be a great addition and it means I get to spend more time with you, I might even be able to take you out,” Morgan said, grinning at you. You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“On a date, Sherriff. On a date.” Morgan said. You leaned back in your chair. 

“Take me out? Like assassination?” You asked, kind of wishing you hadn’t told your deputy to leave. Morgan laughed, filling your offiice with a warm feeling. 

“Oh. Well, that seems biased. Sounds like you don’t want me on the team for my skills but for my stunning good looks.” You said. Morgan smiled. 

“Two things can be true at once,” Morgan whispered, glancing awy from you. 

“I’ll give you my number, but be warned I am quite picky.” You said, reaching over to the front of your desk for your buiness card. You scribbled your number on the back and stuck it out to Morgan. He gently took it from your hand and shoved it into his pocket. He stole a sucker from the bowl on the corner of your desk and left your precinct. 

The next morning you waved them goodbye at the airport. Hotch hugged you goodbye, telling you not to give up on the shelter idea. All good flowers take time to grow or something stupid like that. You murrmed something about him not being your dad and shooed him away. The others said goodbye simply and before long Morgan was standing before you. 

“I’ll call you once I land,” Morgan said. You nodded a mocking smirk on your lips. 

“Yeah, baby? Is that right?” You said, your tone making Morgan laugh in a way that made you assume that was his best-flustered act. Emily shreeked behind Morgan. He glanced back at her. She laughed and clapped her hands, pointing at him. 

“You’re getting Morgan-ed. What’s it feel like baby girl?” She said, through a laugh. You snorted and waited until Morgan turned back to you. 

“Isn’t she sweet?” Morgan asked sarcasticlly. 

“She’s a peach.” 

Morgan did call you. It was the first night you stayed up without thinking of a case. 

[pharawee]

Rose's Day of Asks - the sequel

Hi! My question for you... Which actors do you wish would get cast in a bl as a lead? and with what partner, if you have any in mind?

Have a wonderful night. Rose❤️

Hi Rose, thank you so much for your question! I hope you feel better already. 💜💜💜

There's so many actors I'd love to finally see as the lead in a BL - mostly solo actors because they started their acting careers as side characters, love rivals or villains so there's so much potential to pair them with other fresh faces.

Someone who immediately comes to mind (surprising, I know lmao) is Winner Tanatat because I love him dearly and he's reliably been stealing the show for me wherever he pops up. He's basically taken Big Thanakorn's place on top of the third wheel podium now that Big FINALLY got his well-deserved main role.

I also can't believe domundi have been sleeping on Poppy Ratchapong for so long. Yes, he's talented and funny but have you considered giving Poppy a boyfriend?? Maybe make it Nont Intanont because they both looked really good in Nont's MV for ธรรมดาที่ไหน:

Then again, domundi have also been sleeping on Mark Sorntast until recently when he's been looking like that FOR YEARS.

And gmmtv isn't much better. I mean, Papang Phromphiriya exists. I know I'm not alone in wanting him as the lead in a BL (or any show, really, just give me more Papang I'm begging you gmmtv 😭).

I'm also very partial to Kay Lertsittichai but gmmtv seem to have firmly typecast him as the villain now. Which is an injustice (I like his villains though - they're very pathetic and wet).

Same with idolfactory and Heng Asavarid. Someone free these men from their status as morally questionable side characters!

Unpopular opinion time but this scene with Heng and Nat Sakdatorn in The Sign stole the whole show for me. The things I'd do for more HengNat. 🫠

Then there's Kokliang Parinya who's posting the most beautiful photoshoots on his insta EVERY DAMN WEEK yet somehow he's not been the lead in a BL even once. That man's a medical doctor ffs please someone cast him as the leading man. 🙏

I also need justice for Non Ratchanon (even though he's been in a short story compilation by Director Golf and in a few other things like The Rebound but that just shows how well he can act) and I'd love to see him as the lead in a fully-fledged 12 episode BL.

The same goes for Bank Chanwut. I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HIM (and imagine what could have been if 9NAA didn't mess up Beyond the Star).

And I generally don't understand how Rossi Nonthakorn isn't everywhere after On Cloud Nine (yes technically he was playing the lead here and in another shortform series along with Non Ratchanon but that's not the same innit).

This is getting far too long already but I can't believe I almost forgot about Boss Thawatchanin who can do cute and, uh, whatever else that was with Gap Jakarin in Norrasing (but, really, I don't mind, give me more GapBoss):

And what about Na Naphat? He made me like Tawan in Kinnporsche (he did everything wrong and I love him) AND WE WERE PROMISED NA AND FIAT PATCHATA IN WISH ME LUCK!!

There's really so many other actors that I'd love to see in the spotlight in their own series. Like JJFong in a proper show where they aren't relegated to comic relief. Or JJUs now that they're freed from BOC's basement. Or PromMark because they've been trying to sail their ship for years now (and they recorded a song together that's still one of my faves) but maybe we'll finally get lucky in Jack & Joker. 🤞