#ch: astrid turner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariasont · 8 months ago

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Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch pt 2

Chapter Nine:

The morning light filtered in Evelyn's bedroom, casting a lazy glow across the room as Spencer's kiss melted into Evelyn's lips. She stretched languidly across the bed, the soft fabric of her lounge set--a cozy ensemble chosen for the day's travels--wrinkling beneath her. The scent of mint lingered in the air, a fresh reminder of her morning routine now complete. Spencer stood, the sheets sifting, his departure slow and reluctant.

"You're not leaving me already, are you?" Evelyn's words were a playful whimper, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a hint of feigned distress. Her hand lazily patted the empty space beside her as if to say there was no good reason for him to get up just yet.

"I'm going to engage in a necessary biological process commonly referred to as 'using the restroom'," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You're very needy in the morning,"

"'M not," Evelyn protested with a drawn-out whine, but she puckered her lips in a pout that begged contradiction, her hands pulling on his sleeve. "Round two?"

Spencer's laughter was a soft rumble, his lips grazing the delicate spot beneath her chin, causing a ripple of giggles to escape her. "Tempting as it is, I should get out of here before Hotch shows up. I'm not sure 'we were just analyzing sleep patterns' would fly as an excuse."

"Yeah, I doubt he'd buy that."

As the bathroom door closed behind Spencer, Evelyn sank back into the pillows. Casual was a term she had never associated with sex before--yet here she was in a no-strings attached arrangement. The simplicity of it all was good and so was the sex--god the sex was good. Evelyn never knew it was possible to want to have it all the time, yet here she was feeling like she could jump his bones at every minute of the day.

Spencer re-entered the room, his eyes sweeping over the space with an inquisitive glint. The room was a reflection of Evelyn herself--unapologetically girly, with walls adorned with soft pastel shades and shelves lined with an array of romance novels. He paused at the collection, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Evelyn shot him a look, her arms crossing defensively. "Listen, not everyone finds the dictionary to be a page-turner."

"I didn't say anything," Spencer replied, his hands raised in surrender, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

"You didn't have to," Evelyn retorted, "I could hear you thinking it."

Spencer's fingers grazed the spine of particularly worn novel. "May I?"

"Hands off, pretty boy!" Evelyn's protest was cut short as she bounded from the bed, trying to intercept Spencer's reach for the book.

Spencer's chuckles echoed in the room, the book just out of Evelyn's reach as she hopped in vain. With a quick, fluid motion, he captured her wrists with one hand, and with a gentle firmness, her pressed her against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, the top of her head barely reaching his chin.

"Spencer Reid, if you don't put that book down this instant, I'll--" Evelyn demanded.

"Patience," he replied, the pages flipping rapidly under his gaze. "I'm conducting research."

"Research, huh? In that case let me assist," she trailed off, her hands catching the hem of his shirt, coaxing him back to the bed.

With a laugh, Spencer closed the book. "Evelyn, Hotch will be here any minute. Are you even packed?"

"Of course, I am," she replied, "I'm just gonna miss our nights together while I'm gone, Dr. Reid."

"I'll miss you too," Reid admitted. "Did you know that the heart doesn't actually 'miss' in a literal sense? It's a brain colloquialism for the activation of the brain's reward system, particularly the anterior cingulate cortex and insula, which respond to emotional stimuli..."

Spencer's lecture on the heart was cut short by a sudden, firm knock on the door. Evelyn's eyes widened as she darted a glance through the window, spotting the familiar black SUV outside.

"It's Hotch," she hissed, a note of urgency in her voice. "Please tell me you parked in the garage."

"I did," Spencer assured her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Okay you stay here," Evelyn directed, her gaze flickering from Spencer to the door as she snatched up her suitcase. "Make sure you wait until we're gone to leave, mkay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer replied, a soft chuckle in his voice, punctuating his words with a gentle tap on her ass as she made her way out.

Evelyn moved to the door with a fluid grace, pulling it open to find Hotch in an uncharacteristically casual stance. He was dressed down for the flight in a soft, gray henley that accentuated his build, paired with jeans that were a far cry from his usual suits. She found the sight disarmingly attractive. Hotch, in turn, was struck by how Evelyn's casual outfit clung just right, only seeming to enhance her natural elegance.

"Morning, sunshine," she chimed, her smile sharp and gleaming as she tore her gaze from his body.

Hotch's gaze fell to the overstuffed suitcase at her feet, one brow arching higher than the other. "Planning to move in, or is that all for three days?"

"Oh, Hotch, you wouldn't last a day with me as a roommate. I'm a handful and then some," Evelyn teased. "And this," she gestured to herself, "takes a suitcase full of effort. It's not sorcery, but it's close."

Hotch watched her with a measured gaze, finding himself momentarily lost in thought. Inwardly, he doubted the necessity of her suitcase's contents. She hardly needed meticulous preparation to look the way she did. It was a thought, he chastised himself for having, he was her boss, and such considerations were definitely beyond the scope of the role.

Evelyn made a move for the suitcase, but Hotch was already one step ahead, effortlessly hoisting the luggage before she could. Side by side, they walked to the car, their footsteps in quiet accord. With a swift motion, Hotch stowed the luggage in the car, and they both climbed into the car.

Evelyn settled in and her gaze fell to a coffee cup awaiting her. "Hotch, is that for me?"

Hotch started the engine, feigning indifference. "Let's just say I prefer my mornings peaceful, and a caffeine-deprived Evelyn is anything but."

She grinned, noting the vanilla scent wafting from the cup. "And you got my favorite?"

"I make it a point to remember the important details--unlike like someone."

"You know, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes. "A girl's entitled to one coffee mishap, isn't she?"

The early morning drive to the airport was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional melody that Evelyn couldn't resist singing along to. It seemed that every song on the radio was her 'favorite,' and she serenaded Hotch with a gusto that was inversely proportional to her musical accuracy. Hotch's expression might have read as mildly pained, but in truth, he found her off-key notes unexpectedly charming.

Evelyn navigated the narrow plane aisle with a practiced grace, sliding into the middle seat. On the window side, Hotch had already claimed his spot, his gaze fixed on the world outside. The aisle seat remained vacant but not for long. A man, older and with a certain disheveled charm that bordered on sleazy, soon occupied it.

His suit was a tad too shiny, the kind that tried too hard to impress, and his hair was slicked back in way that seemed to defy both age and gravity. Evelyn, ever the person she was, didn't seem to mind as she offered him a polite smile, the kind that was courteous yet distant. The man returned the gesture, revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the cabin light.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" the man started, "I must say, you make our cramped quarters seem rather pleasant."

Evelyn flashed a polite smile. "That's very kind."

Hotch sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the exchanged with an intensity that betrayed his calm exterior. His protective instincts were fully engaged, a subtle tension visible only in the slight clench in his jaw. He watched as Evelyn navigated half the flight with her usual poise, responding to the main's veiled advances with nothing more than polite nods and neutral smiles.

Oblivious to any underlying intentions, she carried on with an air of kindness, her attention occasionally drifting to the window. Hotch, ever watchful, noted the subtle cues--the way the main leaned in, the too-warm chuckles, the searching glances. Yet, Evelyn seemed unaware.

"Your choice of material is quite... enlightening," the man remarked, his knee brushing against Evelyn's for the umpteenth time.

"Oh this?" Evelyn remarked casually, holding up the romance book. "Just a little light reading for the flight."

The man chuckled, his tone dripping with innuendo. "Careful, those can set quite the mood. Might be more than you bargained for."

Confusion flickered across Evelyn's features, failing to grasp the full intent behind the man's comment. Hotch, however, was all too aware, his patience wearing thin with each 'accidental' contact between the man's knee and Evelyn's.

In a moment of quiet resolve, he leaned towards her, his voice a soft murmur meant only for her ears. "You said you prefer the window seat, correct?"

Evelyn's eyes widened, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of genuine surprise. "Are you offering it to me?"

He confirmed with a simple nod, his eyes holding hers with a gentle firmness.

She lowered her voice, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you? I better start taking notes; the team's never going to believe this."

Evelyn stood up, her movements betraying a slight reluctance as she moved to switch seats. Meanwhile, Hotch stood from his seat, his stature filling up the limited space between them. As Evelyn edged by, the proximity caught her off guard, sending a surge of warmth through her, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"Oh, sorry," she breathed out, barely audible, as a wave of crimson flooded her cheeks, her mind chastising her for the clumsy encounter.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his own heartbeat imperceptibly faster.

Time stretched on and as the drone of the engines filled the cabin, Evelyn rose yet again, her movements fluid yet mindful in the confined space. The narrow space forced Evelyn to turn her back as she edged by, her focus solely on the beckoning call of the restroom. Hotch, his composure momentarily slipping, masked his distraction with a cough that sounded almost strained against the quiet chatter.

Hotch was a man of control, yet as Evelyn moved past him, her presence was undeniable and quite literally right at eye level just like her ass. The fabric of her attire accentuating her every move, leaving an imprint on his watchful eyes that lingered longer than necessary. Hotch's gaze followed her every move, tracking her discreetly until she merged with the aisle.

The man beside Hotch, leaned in closer than necessary. "Quite the view, huh?" he commented in a hushed tone, a sleazy grin spreading across his features.

Hotch's expression hardened, his jaw setting a firm line. Facing the man, his eyes were steely, his voice a low rumble of warning, "I'd suggest you keep your observations to yourself. It's a long flight, and I'd hate for it to become any longer for you."

The remainder of the flight passed without incident, the earlier tension dissolving into the cabin's recycled air. Evelyn, none the wiser to the exchange between Hotch and the man, mused to herself about the sudden peace.

As they disembarked in Miami, Evelyn and Hotch were greeted by the warm air that wrapped around them like a welcoming shawl. The hotel loomed around them, a sprawling resort nestled amidst lush gardens and shimmering waters.

"Hotch, look at this place! I think the Bureau's expense department got their wires crossed," Evelyn gushed as they entered the lobby, where her attention was swiftly stolen by the sight of the pool through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I half expect to see a celebrity or two lounging by that pool. Speaking of which, how strict do you think they are about conference attendees taking a 'research break' in the water? Asking for a friend, of course."

"Evelyn," he began, "what you do in your free time is at your discretion. However," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "we have a dinner engagement this evening with some key figures from the conference. It's an informal setting, but impressions matter. I trust you'll bring your usual insight and professionalism to the table."

"Professionalism? Oh, you've got it, boss man. I'll be the picture of professionalism--so much so, they might just mistake me for you," she teased, her grin suggesting she was only half-joking. "As long as you keep me on the guest list for these conferences."

Hotch's gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment, a silent warning conveyed in the briefest of looks. "I need to meet with some representatives from the BSU," he said, "Here's your room key," he added, handing her a small envelope with a practiced hand. "Remember, 'be good' isn't just a suggestion, it's an expectation."

"Oh, Hotch, when have I ever been anything but good?" Evelyn asked, batting her lashes with an exaggerated innocence.

Hotch offered nothing but a deadpan look in response to Evelyn's words, the unamused mask firmly in place as he turned and walked away with measured steps.

Evelyn's delight was unmistakable as she made it to her room. The space was more than nice--it felt luxurious. From the plush bed to the breathtaking view that beckoned from the window. But the room couldn't contain her restless energy for long. She swiftly changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and tank top.

Evelyn's casual stroll through the hotel brought her to a halt outside a bustling conference room where Hotch stood, surrounded by a circle of professionals. One woman in particular caught her eye--a vibrant figure with a small tattoo adorning her exposed shoulder, her proximity to Hotch just shy of intimate. Her laughter rang out, a decibel too high, piercing the hum of conversation. The sound seemed to echo in Evelyn's ears, stirring an unfamiliar jealously as she watched, a sense of possessiveness she hadn't anticipated washing over her.

"What am I doing?" Evelyn questioned herself, a frown marring her usually carefree expression. She shook her head, trying to scatter the unexpected feeling that clouded her thoughts. She was already with one coworker. With one last look at Hotch and the woman, she turned, her footsteps echoing through the hall.

The evening had settled over the resort, casting a soft glow of the evening lights. In her room, Evelyn stood before the mirror, draped in a black dress that embraced her form with an almost immoral familiarity. The neckline offered a glimpse of the swell of her breasts that made her second-guess the appropriateness for dinner. She pondered if the dress crossed the line from chic to scandalous, especially since Hotch had left the dress code to her imagination.

As she reached for her lipstick, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Hotch. His dark suit was crisp, the lines clean and authoritative, setting off the steely look in his eyes. For a fleeting second, Evelyn found herself at a loss for words, her usual quick-witted banter deserting her. She marveled at the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his gaze.

She blinked, a rush of warmth flooding her cheeks as she took a moment to appreciate the man before her. Regaining her composure, she greeted him. "Well, if it isn't Agent Hotchner, looking sharp enough to cut through red tape."

His eyes softened as his gaze dragged up her figure. It was rare when words, typically his steadfast ally, seemed insufficient. Clearing his throat, he allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips. "Evelyn, you look beautiful."

The unexpected warmth in Hotch's voice sent a flutter through Evelyn's stomach. A blush crept up her cheeks as she stammered. "Oh--uh, thank you, hotch," she managed, her voice a notch higher than usual. She stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Just give me one sec, I need to... uh, apply my lipstick," she said, her hands fumbling for the cosmetic.

As Evelyn carefully twisted the tube of lipstick, she began to speak. "So, who exactly is going to be at this dinner...?" She trailed off, focusing on the precision of the crimson shade as it glided over her lips, forming an 'o' shape. "And the seating arrangements, I hope they're not too formal. It's always so awkward to make conversation when--"

Hotch found himself unexpectedly transfixed, leaning casually against the doorframe yet entirely absorbed by the scene before him. Evelyn's lips, parting and pressing as she spoke, were all he could see. She was speaking--something about the dinner, the guests--but the words seemed to drift away. All of it was drowned out by the delicate precision with which she painted her lips, the occasional catch of her teeth against the plush red, the way he could imagine those same lips wrapped around his cock. The mundane task, one he had never given much thought to before, suddenly seemed the most fascinating thing in the world.

Evelyn caught the distant look in Hotch's eyes and paused, her lipstick hovering mid-air. "Hotch?" she probed, a note of curiosity in her voice.

He snapped back to the present with a slight start. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sounds great," he mumbled, almost as if on autopilot.

Evelyn eyed him quizzically for a moment but then shrugged it off with a smile. "Well, I'm all set," she said, slipping her lipstick into her purse. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was a cocoon of warmth and subtle elegance, its walls adorned with tasteful art and tables set with crystal and fine china that caught the glimmers of the chandeliers overhead. As Evelyn and Hotch made their way through the hushed conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery, she felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with the slightest edge of nerves.

As Evelyn neared the table, a sharp pang of recognition coursed through her--the woman from before was there. The woman who had flirted with Hotch, her casual elegance now a sharp thorn in Evelyn's side. The closer they got to the table, the more Evelyn felt the bitter vine of jealously winding its way up, tightening around her voice. It made it all worse as she realized the same woman that was flirting with hotch was the infamous Lillian Lewis, best-selling author and behavioral analyst. She was a legend in their work.

Hotch, ever composed, acknowledged the table with a subtle nod. "Professor, gentlemen," he began, "this is Special Agent Evelyn Gideon."

The men at the table, both influential benefactors of the BAU, received her with a warmth that melted away some of her stiffness. "Agent Gideon, a pleasure," the man, Thomas Weller, remarked, his handshake warm and reassuring.

Dr. Reeves greeted her with a thoughtful nod and a smile. "Welcome, Evelyn. It's always good to see new faces in the field."

Evelyn mirrored their greetings, her smile unfurling effortlessly, softening the formality of the moment. Her voice turned to one of admiration as she tried to push aside the knot of discomfort in her stomach. Despite her confusing feelings to Hotch, game recognizes game. And Professor Lewis was one of the best.

"Professor Lewis, it's an honor. Your work on micro expressions has been a game-changer in high-stakes negotiations."

Professor Lewis gave a curt nod, her 'Thank you' slicing through the air, sharp and devoid of the earlier warmth. Her eyes, a steely grey, seemed to appraise Evelyn with a scholar's critical gaze, flickering over her with an air of polite disinterest.

As they took their places at the table, Hotch smoothly slid Evelyn's chair out for her. As she eased into it, she shot him a teasing smile. "Such attentiveness, Agent Hotchner. I wasn't kidding about taking notes, the team will need a full briefing when we get back."

Hotch leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "Remember how I said being good wasn't a suggestion?"

The warmth of his breath left her momentarily dazed, a tingling sensation lingering where his words had landed. She shrugged softly at his words, shooting him a quick wink.

As the dinner conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Dr. Reeves leaned forward, drawn by the familiar ring of her last name. "So, your father is Jason Gideon?"

Evelyn affirmed with a modest tilt of her head. "The one and only."

With a scrutinizing look, Professor Lewis cut into the conversation, injecting dryly. "Must've been nice having that as your golden ticket."

The comment hung in the air, and Evelyn felt a momentary discomfort. She recovered quickly, though, with a light-hearted retort. "Well, it certainly wasn't a Wonka bar, but it did come with its own set challenges," she said, hoping to deflect the tension with humor.

Without missing a beat, Hotch offered a measured nod in Evelyn's direction. "Evelyn has earned her place on the team. Her record stands on its own."

Evelyn managed to navigate the rest of the dinner with grace, her laughter blending seamlessly into the restaurant's hum. It was easy for her to charm the benefactors just like Hotch assumed she would: the way she remembered personal details, the easy way she joked about the appetizers, or how she gracefully deflected any praise to her team, specifically her unit chief.

As the clinking of glasses subsided, Mr. Weller nudged Hotch with a knowing look. "The bureau's lucky to have someone like her," before shooting a wink to Evelyn, he added, "And hey, if you ever get tired of this guy, give me a ring, huh?"

As they prepared to leave, Hotch's hand found its way to the small of Evelyn's back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of touch sparked a cascade of tingles down her spine, and she couldn't help but press back against his palm, a subtle gesture not lost on the observant eyes of the professor.

"Did you hear that, Hotchner?" Evelyn teased as she pressed closer to him. "The bureau is lucky to have me."

Hotch's fingers gave a gentle squeeze on her back, his voice low and teasing. "I knew that would go to your head."

The hotel's quiet corridors echoed with the soft tread of their steps as Hotch accompanied Evelyn to her door. The distant hum of the air conditioning lent a subtle rhythm, while the floorboards yielded a soft protest against their weight.

Evelyn paused at her door, her palm grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. Her gaze flickered up to Hotch. "Guess I'm not high on Professor Blake's list, huh?"

A smile of quiet assurance played on Hotch's lips, his gaze steady. "I wouldn't quite put it that way," he murmured, his voice low. "That's just her way."

Evelyn exhaled a breath tinged with mock amusement, her gaze honing in with accusation. "Well, she sure seemed to have a different way with you earlier," she insinuated, her words just loud enough for him to catch.

"What was that?" Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised in silent invitation for her to elaborate.

"Nothing," Evelyn retorted with a swift dismissal.

Hotch shook his head, a silent chuckle in his throat.

He lingered, his eyes savoring her--the contours of her face, the curve of her beck, the line of her shoulders. Hotch found himself captivated, unable to divert his attention. As the hallway seemed to condense around them, Hotch found his gaze on the delicate bow of her lips, the color seeming to tempt him in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Evelyn," he finally managed.

"Goodnight, Hotch," she voiced evenly, her words smooth and controlled, a veil over the wild drumming of her heart.

With a final nod, Hotch turned and walked away. Evelyn retreated into her room, the door's click sealing her inside, its sound a faint punctuation in the quiet. She exhaled a deep, satisfied breath, a serene smile playing on her lips. She moved with a soft deliberateness, preparing for bed, her slow and purposeful movements discarding the dress.

She pulled out her pajamas, the fabric soft and familiar between her fingers. A shade of blush with tiny hearts, the material hugged her just right. Dimming the lights, she climbed into the plush bed, the sheets cool against her skin.

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