“Come on, you’re funny when you’re drunk,” She was still trying to convince you but you just shook your head. When you turned back around to face her, bag in hand, you found Derek and Emily stood next to her with raised eyebrows.
It was Penelope’s idea to go out that night. You weren’t too keen on the idea - your couch had been calling your name since you arrived at the BAU that morning and you had plans to binge watch Law & Order that night with a pizza. Your mouth was watering at the thought of it. Besides, you assumed you wouldn’t be missed all that much if you took a rain check considering you didn’t feel like you had a strong bond with any of the team members yet.
“But Harris, you have to come with us!” Penelope pouted.
“Nah, I’m good,” You shook your head, turning towards your desk to gather your things.
“It’ll be fun,” Emily coaxed.
“We need it,” Derek shrugged, his head tilting at you. You were about to say no, thank you for the offer, but my couch and I have a date planned, we’ll have to reschedule, blah blah but Penelope had one final thing to add.
“We convinced Hotch to come. If Hotch is joining us, you are too, honey,”
Shit. How could you pass this up now?
“Fine. Fine. I’ll go,” You said with a small sigh. Penelope squealed and enveloped you into a huge hug which surprised you and rendered you unable to move for a few seconds, but you hugged her back loosely.
“You don’t have to look like we put a gun to your head, Harris,” Emily giggled. “Although next time you try to turn down a night out, we might,”
Her quip awarded her with a very small smirk from you - one that she caught onto quickly and she chuckled in response.
Hotch didn’t usually go out with the team. He did when he had Haley but that was a different story, it was difficult now - although a lot of time had passed since her death - to go out without feeling a little guilty for enjoying himself. It had become easier over time but he still got that niggling feeling every once in a while that something didn’t feel right, it was usually the lack of her beside him.
He was the last one to leave the bullpen, nodding graciously to Rossi as he held the elevator door open for him. He spotted you in the corner, staring at your shoes like you were trying to figure them out, and managed to hide his smile.
There had only been one time that you’d joined the team for a night at the bar and it was the first time anyone had seen you smile. Hotch secretly hoped that he would see it again. As the elevator descended, he tried to think of things that could possibly make you laugh once the alcohol had loosened you up. He had gone through half of the dad jokes in his brain when the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. None of them were good enough. Shit, he wasn’t really funny.
Even Jack didn’t find him very funny.
The bar wasn’t too busy when you arrived. It was an inviting and welcome setting, the lights in warm hues of red and orange and the music loud enough to enjoy but quiet enough to still be able to talk without yelling. You were the last one to order your drink and the only seat available was on a low stool with your back to the bar, next to Hotch.
You thanked the universe for that.
You were quiet as your nursed your first drink. You listened to everyone else instead, a few smirks pressing into your lips as the team told funny stories and roasted each other - mainly Emily, Morgan and Reid. Hotch noticed the smirks from the corner of his eye and wished you weren’t sat beside him. He wished you were sat right in front of him so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was desperate to see your face in a state that wasn’t a frown or expressionless.
You were chattier as you drank your second drink. When you chugged your third drink and had already started sipping on your fourth drink, you were giggly.
Hotch hated to admit to himself how much he was enjoying hearing you laugh. He knew he was down bad for you now. It was highly inappropriate, thinking about one of his team members 24/7 and wishing he could get closer, but he just couldn’t stop.
It all started from a hug, albeit you were straddling his lap at the time. Maybe it was because it was so unexpected, maybe it was how warm and safe you felt to him - he had no idea, but it had caused this chaos inside of his brain. A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him that it wasn’t going to end well, but he repeatedly pushed it even further back. He didn’t want to think about what could realistically happen, he just wanted to imagine what could happen in a perfect world. It was peaceful.
When you came back from the bar with your fifth drink, you had made an unwanted friend. Some fucking idiot couldn’t take the hint that you had no interest in talking to him - following you as you walked back to the booth. You were maybe a meter away when you felt a hand grab your ass cheek.
“Don’t touch me,” You yelled sternly. Hotch’s ears pricked up at your tone and he turned to watch some drunk, handsy man run his hand down your waist and grab your hip.
Immediately, Hotch could feel rage in his blood. He stood up, face of thunder, to give the guy a hard lesson but you already had it covered.
“Hold this,” You pushed your drink into Hotch’s hands as he stood up, leaving him to only watch as you grabbed the guy’s crotch area tightly - so tight that he could almost feel the pain in his own balls - and slowly raise your knee until it was mere centimetres from the guy’s trapped genitals.
The guy was screeching, high pitched and pained.
“When I say don’t touch me, I mean it,” you spat. “Will you do it again?”
The guy tried to answer but you squeezed harder. He yelped a ‘no’, but you didn’t let go straight away - not until the guy was begging for forgiveness.
Hotch couldn’t decipher why his stomach burned as he watched the guy hobble away, cradling himself. Jesus, it was a nasty move - but the guy deserved it.
The burning made sense when he saw you turn back around, a smile on your face at winning the battle. It was a smug smile, lazily devious, and it made his mouth water. How the fuck was that so attractive?
”Damn,” Emily smiled, motioning her head towards the guy. “I don’t think he’ll be doing that again,”
”You good?” Morgan asked. He’d noticed what was going on and had the same idea as Hotch, but was left stuck standing behind the table as he watched you handle the situation.
”Fine,”
Then you sat down and it ruined Hotch: one hand on the stool as you spread your legs and straddled it for a second, before getting comfortable and slowly closing your legs in front of you.
He saw you in his head. Straddling his hips like that stool as he lay down in a bed, you on top of him with that smug smile on your face. He couldn’t stop picturing it - the worst daydream he could possibly have right now - as he sat next to you with the rest of the team around him, drinking and talking.
This town is full of gangs, it always has been, but one woman is in charge of them all. When the BAU team are called onto a dangerous poisoning case, the PD captain tries to reject their help. But the team aren’t leaving, and they’re going to be dragged into a bizarre town with a interesting queen who seems to have taken a shine to the BAU Chief.
Angel Note:
I already began this story using smaller parts, but the second part somehow got deleted (thanks Tumblr). So I’ve rewrote it. I am still taking my Tumblr break, but this was a request that I really wanted to do.
Jet briefings were always the worst. They meant that time was of the essence, an unsub desperately unravelling further at each moment, but the case that the BAU were about to be thrown into was far more complex and dark than they could have initially thought. True, it was already dark enough - as Penelope Garcia explained over the video feed from back in her ‘cave’ in Quantico - three children and two teenagers dying of mysterious causes, all in quick succession, with no link between them available to see at the local PD’s surface view.
‘Eight year old Susanna Rose, six year old Jaxon King, eleven year old Jessica Baker, sixteen year old Michael Barren and nineteen year old Austin Rivers. All lived in different parts of town, Susanna and Jaxon went to the same school, Jessica went to a different school just outside of town. Austin worked at a gas station and she still lived with her parents, and Michael was in high-school with no job,’
Going back and forth over the case file, agents Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner and Dr Reid threw around possible links and early theories. The possibility of an unknown disease was thrown out by the local PD, due to none of the family members from the victims’ households becoming sick. An interesting toxicology report on Susanna, Jaxon and Jessica found an unusual concoction of substances within their system. The ME was still finishing their report on Austin and Michael, but they were betting the same mixture would show up too. A lethal, rare compound of chemicals that created havoc on the human nervous system and causing the body to attack itself, eventually shutting down completely. A poison.
“We’re landing,” Hotch interrupted the conversation, hushing it to a silence as the plane descended.
“Detective Mills, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” Mills greeted the two agents with an outstretched hand as they walked into the precinct. He was met with a firm handshake from the BAU chief.
From the back of the precinct, Captain Halloway happened to glance up from the case file, catching the end of Mills’ handshake with a stranger. A suit. Tailored. Serious. FEDs.
“SSA Hotchner and Jareau,” Hotch spoke lowly, accepting the formality. “The rest of my team are with the ME and the latest victims’ family,”
“Mills,” Halloway bellowed, striding over to his detective and the two FEDs, a scornful look plastered on his features.
Mills flinched as the Captain stopped beside him, facing the agents.
“Captain Halloway,” He introduced himself. “I’m sorry, Agents. We have this case handled,” Halloway spoke sternly, before turning towards Mills. “What did I tell you about calling the god-damned FBI?”
Mills’ mouth fluttered open and closed, like a fish, as Halloway stared him down.
“Sir, with due respect, this case is incredibly time-sensitive and my team has agreed to be at your disposal,” Hotch interrupted, sensing the tension.
“This is still your case, we are just here as a resource to stop more people from being killed,” Jareau soothed.
“No-one else is going to be killed, agents. Apologies for your wasted journey, but things are under control here,”
“Captain, how can you be sure that you have this handled?” Hotch questioned, his arms crossed against his chest, his face smouldering.
“Agents, you don’t know this town. I can assure you, this is being taken care of,”
“Why is there information missing from your case file? Surely, if this case is being taken care of, then you have a suspect, or a lead, or something more than what’s in this file,”
JJ held up the dull, thin file. Halloway took a sharp intake of breath, staring up at the ceiling to compose himself for a second.
“Please, Agents. Go home,” He mumbled, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, but he knew he was in a difficult territory. The FEDs would never back off from a case like this and the precinct truly had no leads or suspects as such. Halloway had a secret weapon as such - not enlisted by him, but someone that he knew would put an end to the killings. Someone who was better at catching a killer in this town than the cops were.
JJ and Hotch stood still, showing no signs of moving at all, and bore a glare into Halloway.
Halloway shot a scowl towards Mills. Mills shrank into himself further.
“Do you want to start a fight with the Queen?” Halloway spat at Mills.
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“So, what’s with the Queen business?” Rossi asked as soon as he entered the conference room that Halloway had reluctantly given the BAU, Prentiss following behind. Morgan and Reid were already in the room, relaying information from the ME report to Hotch and JJ.
Hotch looked up from his casefile.
“Something’s not right about the case,”
“Mills clammed up as soon as Halloway got close to him. Something’s happening, but we’re not sure what yet,” JJ added.
“Corrupt cop maybe?” Prentiss offered, but Hotch shook his head.
“He’s allowing us to stay on the case. Why would a corrupt cop do that?”
“To avoid suspicion?”
“But who’s the Queen?”
Halloway opened the conference room door, just catching Reid’s question as he entered. The agents became silent, watching his every move. He exhaled loudly, shutting the door behind him. He drew the blinds in the conference room and flicked on the huge screen at the back of the room, remote in hand.
“This town is gang territory. It has been for years, most of our cases were rival gangs fighting over turf. Usually open shut investigations, until five years ago,” He began. He pressed a button on the remote, illuminating the screen with three group photographs, with each photograph titled by gang name.
“There are more gangs, but these three are the main groups that run in this town. Caana, Arc and Silver. Caana…”
Halloway clicked the button again, showing a collage of photos of at least twelve different people, some mugshots - some candid.
“They’re the oldest. Dating back to before this town was really a town. Drug smugglers mostly, forever thinking they’re a cartel but they’re just drinkers and fighters now, with the occasional pill selling,”
He switched the screen again, showing another collage. Only five people, all candid shots.
“Arc are clever bastards. Own half of the town, cooked their books, ran an on-ground black market operation. We’ve always been two steps behind them, and they’re in and out of the town regularly,”
“Past tense?” Reid wrinkled his nose. Halloway nodded.
“They’ve never been tied to any of our old cases themselves, but Arc get the blame for most of Caana’s fighting with…”
The next screen was a huge collage, over thirty different people. Only one mugshot.
“Silver. Silver are the worst. These guys are into everything. Half of them came from The Silk Road collapse, huge dark net presence. We suspect some hitmen run with them too,”
“Why was the government never notified of these gangs?” Morgan asked, chewing on the end of his pen. Halloway shook his head.
“Five years ago, our cases slowed. Calls about Caana’s bar-fights stopped. Arc’s name stopped being mentioned. Most of the members of Silver seemed to drop from the face of the earth. The black market stopped - everything just seemed to halt. We found out that there was a hierarchy controlling all three of these gangs, keeping them out of trouble with the law and calming down their rivalries. The gangs started keeping to themselves, Arc even improved the community significantly. We knew they wouldn’t just stop their activities, another group had to be controlling them and covering them all up. But the town became more peaceful and we hadn’t had a homicide case hit our desks until now,”
“So which group was overseeing them all?” Hotch asked.
“Not a group. One woman,”
“The Queen?”
“A few gang members from Caana mentioned ‘Queen’ if we ever spoke to them. It was always ‘Queen will handle it’ or ‘Queen will punish’. Almost biblical, in a sense,”
Halloway clicked to the final slide. There was only one photo, it was candid but the woman’s features were clear enough.
“Elizabeth Tatiana Leighton. Known as Tate Leighton. We ran into her three years ago…I ran into her three years ago. She’s the Queen. She runs all three gangs. She stopped the rivalries, she oversees every single thing that the gangs do. I have no idea what she holds over them, she has no one else by her side, but she controls every member. She’s ruthless,” Halloway paused to look at the photograph, a ghost of a smile flickering in his face.
“But, in a way, she’s on our side. The activity from the gangs went cold years ago, no-one knows what they’re doing now or if they’re even operating anything anymore. There’s only been one altercation since she took control. From what I heard, the members involved in the feud were scared onto the straight and narrow by her,”
“So you can’t track anything to her?” Prentiss asked. She was almost in awe of Tate.
“No. A note was on my desk a few days ago, just before the first body was found,”
Whilst Halloway dug into his pocket, searching for the note, Hotch stared at the screen. He memorized Tate’s face, noticing the youth in her features. She must have been only twenty-something. He wondered how she got into this business, and how she controlled so many people.
“It is under my control. Accept my grave condolences to the families of the victims. I do not tolerate killing of innocents, especially children. I am taking care of this. Do not follow this up. I will give you my word when everything is clear. I will pay for the victims to be remembered. Signed, Majesty,” Halloway read. The team were stunned silent for a moment.
“So, we have a young woman in control of three dangerous gangs. She has morals and a rule-book,” Rossi commented.
“The issue is, we can’t leave this case alone,” Morgan sighed.
“Why not?” Halloway asked in worry.
“I have a feeling that this woman is going to take an eye for an eye to whoever is responsible for this,”
Mills bounded into the room. He stopped for a brief second, lingering beside the door as he noticed Tate’s photo on the board, before quickly snapping out his gaze.
“There’s a call about another body,” Mills burst out. Halloway nodded to the team as they all stood up from the chairs.
“I won’t lie, I’m uncomfortable, but I’m glad to have you here,” Halloway muttered to the room. The agents shot a glance at him, before leaving the conference room.
Tate was the first to find the body. She hadn’t heard from Olen in a few hours and now his body lay on the beach, next to Caana’s old smuggling cove, unused as a passage for the last decade, in bad shape. She kept her distance from the body, but spent a minute in silence. Olen was a good man. She respected him immensely - he was intelligent and cunning, but understood Tate’s viewpoint in life and supported her from the moment she took over the lowers.
When Deacon had come to her only a couple of hours ago with news of an FBI presence, Tate had already set a plan in motion. Her most trusted lowers were assigned to tail the agents, ordered to stay in pairs for their own safety. She only wanted to know what they agents knew, purely to aid her own investigation. Before Deacon had left to begin his assignment, he’d handed her a file, filled with pictures and information on the FBI agents working on the case. She’d spent a good half hour memorising their names, their faces, their accomplishments - trying to find any weaknesses to play with in case the agents turned on her.
In a way, she wished that she could share information with the law. The poison was called Keltrox, which Silver had acquired from a known gang contact. They’d given it to Tate in order for her to analyse it and create a cure. With the business that her lowers got up to, they pissed a lot of people off - Keltrox was a hot new thing on the market, according to Silver, with a high chance that someone seeking revenge on one of her lowers would use it.
Sadly, knowing where the Keltrox came from couldn’t narrow Tate’s search, as any of the gang members could have gotten their greasy hands on it - not just Silver. Hell, maybe even the drunkest in Caana had a stash somewhere.
Tate’s blood began to boil the longer she stared at Olen’s lifeless body. The kill felt personal, as if Tate had been poisoned herself. Innocent people dead, and now one of her most loyal lowers. It was a message, and Tate could hear it loud and clear.
The agents hadn’t been to the beach according to her hourly reports. Olen wouldn’t have been at the beach unless he had good reason to slip away from his assignment. The killer had to be one of the most trustworthy lowers to pull something like this. Her most loyal lowers knew that Tate would be at the beach, in this very spot, if she was unable to be found anywhere else. It was the beach that she washed up on years ago, on a tiny lifeboat she’d managed to get onto when Alzena began to fail and wreck. The moment that she’d found the freedom that she’d been looking for was completely within this spot - now, there was Olen’s corpse.
His eyes were still open. She badly wanted to close them, to sprinkle sand over them, to keep his vision away from what would happen now. But even Tate knew that the FBI would find something more within Olen’s corpse, and her compulsion would ruin that chance. She didn’t want to lead them down the wrong path.
“The call said the body was next to Caana’s cove, it should be just over this hill,”
Halloway’s voice sent Tate running into a dip in the rocks of the cove, poking her head above to see two agents accompanying Halloway towards Olen’s body. She ducked back down as they drew closer to her, cursing her sandy footprints that she’d left behind. After a few seconds, she ducked her head back up, recognizing the agents as Prentiss and Hotchner. They talked for a little while, their conversation indistinguishable to Tate, until Prentiss left the beach with Halloway. Hotchner stayed, seemingly staring at the ground until his face turned towards Tate’s direction.
He’d clocked the footsteps.
He raised his head, locking eyes with Tate immediately. His hand automatically grabbed onto his gun holster, but Tate stood up fully, hands above her head. Hotch relaxed his grip.
“Tate Leighton,” He addressed her, but Tate shook her head.
“Close his eyes please, Agent Hotchner,”
Hotch stared at her for a brief moment, then silently leaned towards the body, gently brushing Olen’s eyes closed. Within those seconds that he turned away, Tate had taken off, vanishing as he turned back to look at her.
He stayed on the beach for a minute or so, dissecting his encounter with the Queen herself. She looked even younger than she did in the photo that Halloway had shown him. She knew his name. They were being watched.
What he never expected was her empathy. They painted her to be ruthless and uncaring, almost numb. He didn’t believe that her request to him was a plan to get away, but instead a compulsion of emotion, compassion.
He made his way back towards the car, meeting up with Prentiss and Halloway.
“Did you find anything else?” Prentiss asked, opening the back car door.
“Tate Leighton,” Hotch spoke lowly, settling himself into the driver’s seat of the SUV.
“The Queen was there?” Halloway burst out.
“She was there before us, there were footprints from the body to where she was hiding,”
“Is she a suspect?” Prentiss asked, and Hotch shook his head as he started the car engine.
“I don’t think so. She asked me to close the victim’s eyes, and then she left.”
“Huh,” Prentiss thought aloud.
“She knew my name. She’s watching us,”
Hotch began to drive back to the precinct. At a red light, just before the turn for the precinct, he glanced out of his window. Tate stood there on the sidewalk, watching him.
“Thank you.” She mouthed to him.
As quickly as she appeared, Tate left, losing herself in the small straggle of people on the sidewalk, making her way back to the beach. She called her lowers, checking on their status. They’d heard the news about Olen by now, but were sticking to their assignments. Deacon and Clarke followed the agents to the beach, seeing Olen’s body, and they’d noticed her on the sidewalk, but said nothing about her encounter with Agent Hotchner. It wasn’t their place to ask her. Deacon was slightly worried about what he’d seen, though. He didn’t like his Queen getting involved with law enforcement, let alone the FBI. What he’d seen on the sidewalk - the way she’d gone back to the car to say thank you to Agent Hotchner...it made him feel a little sick.
Meanwhile, back at the precinct, the team felt like they were hitting dead end after dead end. Sadly, Tate’s work meant that most of the gang’s activities were covered up to the maximum, even Garcia was having a hard time finding out any recent information, and Tate was a ghost in the system. No information could be found on her regarding the last ten years, almost like she vanished during her teens, only to resurface on the beach following a shipwreck five years later, somehow becoming the leader of three gangs in a small, dangerous town. Hotch’s mind replayed Tate’s behaviour over and over again, trying to dissect it further than he already had, but he never found anything new.
“That’s weird,” Garcia’s voice interrupted Hotch’s thoughts and the team’s conversation over the phone speaker.
“Whatcha got, baby girl?” Morgan answered.
“When I was digging into the Queen, one of the things I found was that the boat that she was on when she was at sea was called Alzena - you know, before it was hit by a bad sea storm and she ended up sailing on the lifeboat,”
“And?”
“Now, here’s the thing, I was tracking packages into the town to see if anything suspicious had been reported and nothing had - however, there was a package that was sent about a month ago and the address it was sent to was an abandoned building, so it was sent to the posting office because it couldn’t be delivered. No-one went to pick it up from the office and that package was reported missing four days ago by staff,”
“That could have been the poison,” Prentiss said, looking to the team.
“Guys, the name on the package was Alzena Smith,”
Prentiss shot a look at Hotch.
“We need to bring in Tate Leighton,” He declared, rising from the chair to find Halloway.
Hello my angels! This is technically a reupload. I uploaded this and wasn’t happy enough with it, so I took it down to pad it out a little more...then I got carried away...
adore you all
marley
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You never showed much emotion. Rossi had once joked that you were Hotch 2.0 - stoic, tight-lipped and collected. It wasn’t that showing emotion felt like weakness - in fact, sometimes it felt like the opposite to you. You found that the most powerful were the ones like Garcia, who could smile at the smallest of things and find joy in almost anything. That’s not to say that you had no emotion - but you dealt with it inwardly. Smiles from you were rare, unless you were drunk, and the team had never seen anything close to physical affection from you - but when the harsh wind of a New York December slapped Hotch’s face as his brother marched through the automatic doors of the hotel lobby and out onto the street, your chest felt tight. The team glanced at each other, raised eyebrows and troubled expressions, but you stared directly at Hotch’s back as he walked away towards the elevator. No one said a word as your feet made a decision without your brain’s opinion, striding towards the elevator before the door shut.
The elevator was quiet. Hotch looked at you for a few seconds but your eyes were firmly planted on the floor, replaying each harsh word Sean had thrown at him in the middle of the lobby. He didn’t deserve that.
Hotch was mildly annoyed that you were there, but he’d rather you than anyone else. You never asked questions or checked in with people. He knew you wouldn’t try to talk to him or attempt to cheer him up - you probably just didn’t want to wait for another elevator. That thought gave him a ghost of a smirk. Typical you, never giving a fuck.
Sometimes he wished he could be more like you, even though his team had made enough jokes that you were twins in terms of personality.
He wasn’t so sure about that - he knew nothing about you outside of work. True, you were extremely similar in how you did your jobs and the way you communicated with people but he was quietly emotional. Behind closed doors, he would smile at memories of Jack when he was a baby. He would cry when he thought about Haley. He had plenty of emotion but he kept it away from work. He wasn’t sure if you were the same.
Hotch could hear footsteps behind him but paid no attention. It was only when he opened the door and heard the footsteps enter his room with him that his attention became focused on you.
You still weren’t completely aware of what you were doing as the elevator doors opened on the 6th floor and you found yourself trailing behind him, but you knew why you were doing it.
One of the best things about being so tight lipped was that you weren’t easy to profile...not yet, anyway. The team had no idea that every time you saw Hotch, you felt a pull in your throat. Every time he spoke, your ears only listened to him and hung onto every word he said. When he spoke lowly and quietly, your stomach burned. The team had no idea how badly you’d been pining for that man since you first met him a little over a year ago.
However, you’d never made any kind of move on him or any notion to get to know him better. Silently, your brain took notes of his micro expressions and body language: understanding what made him happy, knowing when he was sad or stressed - never intervening in his mood, but learning to recognise it before anyone else did. That’s how you knew how hurt he was right now. Sure, the team knew he was upset but only you could see how deep Sean’s berating had penetrated him and for once, you had to let him know that you knew...that you were there.
You leaned against the closed door, almost too afraid to step completely into his room. It felt as if that as soon as you crossed that threshold, you would never be able to go back. You’d always be different to him if you took another step, you’d wouldn’t be as cool and careless as everyone else perceived you to be. You would be strange, weird. Overstepping a boundary. Maybe he’d figure out how much you thought about him.
All you could do was stare at him and watch him frown at you and shake his head, before kicking off his shoes and sitting on the end of his bed. His elbows rested on his thighs as he rubbed his face, trying to shake away the hurt that Sean had dowsed him in.
Your fingers ached to cradle the back of his neck and feel his heartbeat against your chest. The urge to hold him close was unbearable. When he finished rubbing his face and you saw his eyes glassy, your mind was made up. You were crossing that threshold.
You walked towards him carefully and came to a stop directly in front of him. His head tilted back slowly as he looked up at you.
You didn’t plan on sitting in his lap - fuck, you never planned on following him to his hotel room - but he didn’t move a single centimetre as you brought your leg up, bending it and laying your knee flat on the bed next to his hip...then came the other leg and you lowered yourself down. Neither of you said a word. Hotch was too surprised to form any kind of thought. Your eyes searched his for a moment.
Your hand found the back of his head and Hotch softened into it.
Soften into me.
You pulled his head forward towards your shoulder and wrapped your arms around him. He was still stunned but found himself relaxing into your embrace, enjoying the comforting warmth as the pain slowly ebbed away, being replaced with an almost unfamiliar feeling of contempt and safety.
Had you always felt like this? Had you always felt like...home?
You stayed like that for five minutes - maybe it was an hour, you had no idea - until you felt Hotch pull away from your shoulder. He didn’t really want to, but something told him to move away. You still hadn’t said a single word as you untangled yourself from his lap and started towards the door.
At least, that’s what you thought. Unbeknownst to you, that moment was the first time that Hotch saw something else in you and it only proceeded to get worse: that ‘little something’ that told him to move away from your embrace had been killed and all he wanted was to get close to you again. He found himself thinking about you that night as he lay in the cold hotel room, the bed too sturdy and unforgiving for him to get comfortable, wishing you were there beside him.
“Thank you,” Hotch’s voice was soft and rich, but you still couldn’t find any words to say. You nodded and left the room, replaying the entire scenario in a very hot shower in your own hotel room until it felt like it was a dream.
What the fuck were you thinking? Straddling Hotch’s fucking lap?!
Are you fucking crazy, Hope? Since when was watching two siblings argue an excuse to settle yourself down into your boss’s lap?!
Neither of you said a single word about what happened the next day, or the day after that. Nothing changed either - you still observed him whenever you could but you still didn’t talk to him much.
In a way, you almost regretted it - feeling the man’s heartbeat against your chest, his breaths becoming slower and calmer in your ear...it had ruined you. Every night, you were thinking about it. A month after, the breaths had turned into something not so innocent and they played on repeat in your head. You thought about that heartbeat as you changed the batteries, almost smelling the scent of his hair as you brought the toy close to your clit. It was the closest you were ever going to get to having that man.
He’d never thought about you like that. Never. He was barely friends with you, in complete honesty - he found you difficult to befriend, unable to open up. You were just part of the team, part of the BAU family, but the one he was the least close to. He knew virtually nothing about you, other than what he’d read in your file when he approved your transfer. Yet, the simple embrace you’d given him was enough to make him more interested in knowing you - really knowing you - and he started to notice everything you did and had to force himself not to stare at you for too long whenever you were near him. Over the next three months, you began moving into his brain until you took up a huge chunk of his mind.
He was slowly beginning to understand you. Your expressions were so minute that they were easily missed by even the most seasoned profilers, but he was starting to figure them out. You pursed your lips ever so slightly when you were upset. Your head tilted to the left by a fraction if you were enjoying a conversation. You double-blinked if you were surprised.
These tiny tells had become a guilty pleasure to him of sorts - he enjoyed being able to see emotion in you where no one else could and it was dangerous in a way, tricking him into feeling like he was special to you. He had to remind himself regularly that he wasn’t, he was just Hotch. Unit Chief Hotch. That was it.
The biggest revelation to him was how caring you were and no one knew. It was an early Monday morning - Jack had spent the night at Jessica’s so he decided to head into the office early. The bullpen was empty as he slowly walked through it, heading into his office. He kept the lights turned off and opened the blinds of the window next to his desk instead, enjoying the silver hue of the early morning light for five minutes before deciding he needed coffee.
He stood up from his desk chair and began to walk over to the door, stopping in front of the window into the bullpen as he eyes caught onto movement.
You always got to the bullpen early on Mondays. You liked to do small things to put the team into a good mood for the week but didn’t want the credit or the thanks for it: things so small that the team wouldn’t question who did them, but they would make a difference to their mood.
A fresh paper on Rossi’s desk in his office. Picking up the many pens that Penelope managed to lose throughout the week under her desk. Placing Spencer’s mug closer to the kitchen cupboard door to save him rooting around for it. Polishing the framed photos on JJ’s desk in her office. Disposing of the old coffee in the coffee pot because everyone always forgot about it on Fridays and it got on Emily’s nerves. Resetting the back of Derek’s chair to upright because Spencer messed with it so much throughout the week.
Hotch watched you and by the time he saw you get around to straightening Derek’s chair, he found himself smiling. He figured out what you were doing and thought back to every Monday, where you walked in at 8:30am with coffee from the Starbucks down the street. He had no idea that you got here early to set the team up for the week, only to disappear for coffee and walk back into work pretending that you’d only just got there. It was one of the most thoughtful things he’d ever seen.
He didn’t expect himself to be included in your Monday morning task list. When he saw you approaching his office, he panicked and pressed his back to the wall.
The last thing you did on Monday mornings was open the blinds in Hotch’s office and clean the inside of the window. You’d noticed how much he enjoyed standing in front of it, presumably to think or to take a breather throughout the day. You opened the door to his office and walked towards the window, stopping short when you saw the blinds already open.
Hotch needed to speak. He couldn’t hide against the wall forever like a teenager.
“Good morning, Harris,”
The voice behind you startled you badly and you did what any logical person would do.
You span around and threw the cloth from your hand straight at the target.
“Fuck,” You mumbled as you watched Hotch catch the cloth, a small smirk on his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,”
“It’s fine,” You shook your head. An awkward moment passed between the both of you as you stared at the cloth in his hands, wishing it would magically come back to you and you could get the hell out of his office.
“What were you supposed to be doing?”
“Excuse me?”
Hotch held up in the cloth in his hand.
Shit.
“Opening the blinds and wiping the window,” you admitted, your voice steady and even. Your brain was screaming.
Please don’t talk about this again.
“I see,”
------
You stared at each other for a second and he offered you the cloth back. You grabbed it and left his office abruptly, grabbing your bag and heading out of the bullpen to Starbucks.
”Thank you, Hope,” Hotch muttered to himself, watching you leave the bullpen.
The more Hotch observed of you, the more he was surprised at how much thought you really had for the people around you. You were actually incredibly sweet in a secretive, stealthy way. His heart softened even further.
Two months later, he stopped melting. His heart was still soft, but you weren’t fluff and butterflies anymore to him. You were fucking hot. You unlocked a kink he didn’t even know he had.
He’d thought about having you next to him regularly, all soft kisses and little sighs - but that night in the bar, he went home thinking about having you riding him like a fucking horse.
[creating a new taglist, please send an ask to be added!]
Neutral Pronouns:
🤍 The Briefing After
🤍 Polaroids
🤍 Bubbles & Blankets
🤍 A Little Help
Female Pronouns:
🤍 Satchel Boy
🤍 Flesh
NSFW [Fem]:
🤍 Loop
🤍 Hi, I'm High
🤍 One Side
🤍 Dirty Secret
🤍 Bad Bitch
---------
---------
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Aaron Hotchner
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Neutral Pronouns:
🤍 The Believer
🤍 Jager Danger
🤍 Salted Caramel
🤍 Fifteen Photographs
🤍 Dear My Truest Self
🤍 The Wing Woman
🤍 Take It Easy
🤍 Summertime Blues [Take It Easy II]
🤍 The Annual Holiday
🤍 Rekindle
🤍 Bracelets
Female Pronouns:
🤍 What a Wonderful World
🤍 Tequila
🤍 what is life, without your arms around me?
🤍 exactly eighteen times, and I kept a log
🤍 Dramatic
♡ An Unlikely Match [OC]
🤍 tell me it's just a dream, please [heartbreaker]
NSFW [GN]:
🤍 Focus
🤍 The Boat Fic
NSFW [Fem]:
🤍 So Much Stupid at Once
🤍 Jaded
🤍 Beauty & Grace
🤍 Bratitude
🤍 Way Back When
🤍 Untitled 404 [Multi Chapter] [Abandoned]
🤍 Finally
🤍 A Motel and Peppermint Oil [Prompt Sunday One Shot]
🤍 Risky
🤍 Hands
Comfort of Strangers [Multi, Fem OC, NSFW]
🤍 Part One
🤍 Part Two
---------
---------
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Derek Morgan
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Neutral Pronouns:
🤍 - A Year of Whispers
NSFW [GN]:
🤍 - Shut Up and Kiss Me [Prompt Sunday One Shot]
---------
---------
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Blurbs
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
🤍 Hotch and 'something dirty with this tie'
---------
---------
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
Prompt Sunday
☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞☜♡☞
SFW:
🤍 'why do you love so many strangers' - Penelope Garcia, GN Reader
🤍 'caught out by the team' - Aaron Hotchner, GN Reader
🤍 'knock it off, we're in public' - Aaron Hotchner, Fem Reader
🤍 'shut up and kiss me' - Aaron Hotchner, Fem Reader
🤍 'be my date, i'm trying to make him jealous' - Aaron Hotchner, GN Reader
🤍 'i'm not ready to lose you' - Spencer Reid, GN Reader
🤍 'my mind is a dark place' - Penelope Garcia, Fem Reader
NSFW:
🤍 'shut up and kiss me' - Derek Morgan, GN Reader
🤍 A Motel and Peppermint Oil - 'it's midnight, where the hell are you?' - 'bedsharing trope' Hotch, Fem Reader
🤍 'Shut up, Just Shut Up' - Aaron Hotchner, Fem Reader - Enemies to Lovers trope
---------
NSFW
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Style: One Shot
Contents: Borderline Smut, Adult Language
Request: Spencer having a super tattooed girlfriend and the team don't believe him.
It was Spencer’s turn to host game night - he told them he had plans. They didn’t believe him. Sometimes, seeing is believing.
Masterlist
“I told you, I have plans with my girlfriend!” Reid sighed, standing up from his chair and meeting his friend’s eyes that were trained onto him, amused and unbelieving. Morgan chuckled, hitting the heel of his shoe against the young doctor’s desk, his giggle playful.
“You expect me to believe that,” He lifted himself from the perch he’d held on Spencer’s desk, landing on his feet with a light thud. “So, what’s she look like?”
“Beautiful,” Reid hummed, avoiding Morgan’s gaze. He didn’t like letting his emotions out in front of others. “Lots of tattoos. Did you that know tattooing dates back to at least the 5th-century BCE? The ancient Greeks and Romans used it to penalize slaves and –”
“What tattoos does she have then?” Morgan watched as Reid looked down to the floor, his brows furrowing. To him, he was visualising all the ink that Y/N had on her skin - there were so many, he didn’t know which one was his favourite, or which one to talk about. To Morgan, Reid’s silence was proof of his lie.
“You’re hosting game night. See you at eight,” Morgan left Reid’s desk. With a heavy sigh, Reid picked up his bag and coat and quickly left the bullpen. He rehearsed the best way on how to tell Y/N that their cosy night in wasn’t going to happen anymore as he drove home, but he didn’t have chance to say anything. As soon as he opened his front door, his speech left him.
As usual, he just trailed his eyes up and down her body. It still hadn’t hit him that Y/N was his girl, completely his, and the black silk robe - strategically gaping open to reveal her bare chest and the delicate ink that trailed along her collarbone - invited him closer as he dropped his bag and coat onto the floor, barely able to lock the door behind him.
“We have till eight, the team don’t believe me still,” He murmured as Y/N stalked further towards him, fiddling with the robe belt.
“And you don’t like PDA, so they won’t believe you when they see me here. I’ll take advantage of the hour I’ve got,”
Her voice dripped of lust and tease. Spencer ripped away his shirt as Y/N giggled, skipping backwards towards the couch. He chased her as she tore the robe from around her, unbuckling his belt, and meeting her tempting lips as he pushed her down onto the couch, hovering above her.
“He tried to use the girlfriend excuse again?” Prentiss giggled into the phone as she drove towards Reid’s house.
“Honestly, Em, it’s the third time he’s said that to get out of game night. Maybe he knows that we know he’s card-counting,” Garcia laughed back. “I’m here, I’ll see you in a minute,”
Emily snapped the phone shut, smirking, as JJ laughed in the front seat. She soon reached the house, parking up next to Morgan’s car. Everyone always waited for each other, like an unspoken rule, before they piled into whoever’s house was hosting this month’s game night. The team all left their cars: Garcia with Morgan; Hotch with Rossi and Prentiss with JJ.
Morgan led the way, reaching the porch of Spencer’s house and trying the front door handle to find it locked. He knocked, as the team all exchanged looks with each other, and waited. He knocked again, but there was still no response.
“There are lights on inside,” Rossi mumbled as he tried to peak through the window, seeing only a curtain and a yellow light sneaking through.
“I have a key, should we check if he’s okay?” Morgan muttered, as JJ’s eyes widened a little.
“What if he actually has a girlfriend?” She said, but everyone shrugged. She was one of the closest to Spencer, and yet, even she didn’t believe him. No one had seen a picture of his supposed girlfriend, he’d never turned up to work with any signs of being with a girl the night before, he didn’t even talk about her.
“No way he has a girlfriend,” Emily declared as she motioned to Morgan. “Just unlock the door,”
Inside the house, Y/N was recovering from the orgasm that Spencer had just given her, trying to find reality again as he continued to play with her, breathless himself. His hair stuck up in all directions from Y/N’s pulling, and hickeys were scattered all over her neck, nestled in between her tattoos.
“What time is it?” She mumbled, and Reid’s eyes went wide.
“Fuck,”
Y/N grabbed her robe as she heard a key enter her boyfriend’s front door, clutching it to herself, covering her bottom half and just about hiding her chest. She watched Spencer panic, barely having any time to grab his shirt and hold it to his hips to cover his modesty, before the door unlocked and six strangers burst in.
Everyone stood in shock, like deers in headlights, no one wanting to move or disturb the scene. Things seemed to be in slow motion.
“Oh my god,,” Penelope breathed to herself, breaking the trance, as Y/N blushed and tried to figure out a way out of the situation.
“Do you think you could all turn around, so I can - like - get dressed?”
“It’s okay, we’ll leave. I’m so sorry to interrupt your night,” Hotch muttered in embarrassment as he turned around.
“I kinda wanted the game night,” Y/N giggled as the rest of the team turned away. She ran off to the bedroom to get dressed properly. Spencer quickly slid his boxers and trousers back on, clearing his throat as the team all turned back around.
“So–erm,” he paused, grabbing his shirt and buttoning it back up around his torso. “Anyone want a drink?”
“My man,” Morgan burst out laughing, as he slapped Reid on the back, the team all laughing whilst they raided the fridge for wine.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
“Coffee?” Reid’s voice rang through the kitchen as Y/N appeared back in the living room, dressed in a play-suit that showed almost all of her ink, only covering her stomach and rib cage art.
“Please, decaff, ” She smiled back as her boyfriend poured himself a glass of wine, setting the coffee machine on at the same time. She looked over to the couch, where his work colleagues were setting up the game night, all focused on the cards in front of them. One woman was staring intently at her, her expression unreadable. Spencer passed Y/N the mug, and she took a sip - staring back at the woman. The woman’s eyes grew a little wider in realizing she was staring.
“I’m so sorry, you’re just so fucking cool,” The woman chuckled, flicking her dark hair off her shoulder as Y/N burst out laughing.
“That’s Agent Emily Prentiss,” Reid smiled as his girlfriend walked towards to her and squeezed Emily’s hand gently. That was his girl’s thing when meeting people - he wasn’t too fond of shaking hands, but she loved to give tiny squeezes when meeting people, almost like a reassuring gesture that she was friendly and soft, despite the ink making her look tough and cold. “…and then we have Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau but we call her JJ, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner. We call him Hotch,”
Y/N went around the team, squeezing everyone’s hand. Rossi chuckled lightly at the action. She settled herself down on the floor next to Emily, who smiled when Y/N clinked her mug to her glass. Penelope suddenly flopped down opposite them, clinking her glass too.
“I’m joining this,” JJ exclaimed, and the four of them sat cross legged in a small square, giggling. “You guys start the first game,” she smiled over her shoulder, and Hotch managed to break a smile as he shuffled and dealt the cards.
“No cheating, genius,” Y/N shouted as Reid smirked, before turning his attention to the hand that Hotch had dealt him. She turned to face the ladies again, noticing Penelope rocking giddily.
“We really didn’t believe him, but look at you, sweets!” She burst out. Y/N burst out laughing.
“We didn’t expect it to turn into a relationship, to be honest,” Y/N admitted, and the women of the team all leaned forward a little.
“Wait, so were you guys just friends?” JJ asked, and Y/N shrugged. A sly grin perked up the corners of her mouth.
“No,” Emily breathed, catching onto Y/N’s expression, breaking into a small giggle.
“What?”
“We were friends…with…erm,” Y/N trailed off as JJ and Penelope caught on. They shot shocked glances at each other, before turning their focus back onto Y/N as she squirmed a little, chuckling.
“How long were you having sex?” Emily asked.
“Four years…”
“Oh my god, that was before I’d even met him!” Emily whispered. Penelope looked like she was about to pass out from excitement, and JJ just stared in blank shock.
“We’ve been together for about two, but we only became serious about six months ago,” Y/N smiled, letting her eyes wander over to her partner, who sat studying his cards, his hand curled up on his cheek and his mouth open slightly. He was adorable.
“What do you mean, serious?” JJ asked. Y/N took a deep breath.
“Well, we were sleeping together for about a year when I got into a relationship. I couldn’t stop thinking about Spence the entire time. It barely lasted a month and I went back to the arrangement, but I didn’t tell him how I felt until another year later,”
The ladies all sat forward, their eyes fixated on Y/N, their minds imagining the story.
“We decided to try and spend more time together, instead of just sex. He was worried that his job would get in the way of a relationship. I was happy just being with him more. Then six months ago, he asked me to move in,”
“Oh my gosh. That’s so cute. It’s so cute. Isn’t it cute? It’s so cute,” Penelope giggled. Y/N took another sip of her coffee.
“I wanna talk about that,” Emily pointed out one of the tattoos littered on Y/N’s arm, and she smiled softly as she began explaining the meaning behind her tattoos and where she had the ideas for them.
Soon, the ladies entered in the game of cards and Y/N had a chance to chat with the rest of the team. They were so accepting and friendly, and she happily watched Reid in his own happy bubble with his extended family, chatting and laughing. She couldn’t help but smile when Derek showed her his tattoos, and Emily went onto a spiel about what Y/N’s tattoos meant.
“Do you want any wine, Y/N?” Rossi asked, and she shot a glance at Spencer. He smiled softly.
“No, I’m not drinking these days,” Y/N smiled to herself. “We’re trying for a baby,”
“Damn, I’m sorry we interrupted,” Morgan chuckled as the team all broke into smiles and laughter. Penelope fanned around Y/N, getting far too excited about the idea of a baby Reid, and Hotch patted Reid on the shoulder. Throughout all the smiles and excitement, Y/N kept her eyes on Reid as he softly grinned, his face lighting up.
Almost ten months later, the team were called to the hospital. The kind of place where they were only called to urgently if there was tragedy.
This time was different, as they approached the door and their eyes fell onto the little bundle of beauty wrapped in a blanket, snuggled onto Y/N’s chest, Spencer kissing it’s forehead lightly.
“It’s a boy,” Y/N softly smiled, her eyes glassy with exhaustion, drugs and pure love, as the team quietly entered, smiling from ear to ear.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader [I wrote it with Fem!Reader in mind but I couldn't any gendering written in]
Style: One Shot
Contents: Fluff, Adult Language, Mention of Smut.
Word Count: 3,800+
When you're not cleared to fly after a minor asthma attack, you decide to drive back to Virginia...which turns into a road trip with your boss.
Masterlist
This was inspired by a post that @ssamorganhotchner reblogged earlier from @ssa-ki99 [here].
My sleepy brain saw it and I just had this idea straight away, so I listened to this song on my way to work [I haven't heard it in so long!] and now I have to write the idea.
Also, I've never been to the states so let's just say the road they're driving on is fictional, thanks. This also got a little longer than I planned...
"Which car can I take?"
The team turned around as you approached them, all huddled up beside the stairs to the jet. Morgan sighed.
"They didn't clear you?"
"Nope," you said, popping the 'p'. "Even though it was minor, they said I shouldn't risk it,"
"Take the car I had," Morgan threw the keys over to you, and you caught them, the metal shining in the sunlight of the morning.
"At least it's not too long of a drive?" JJ offered, but you shrugged.
"I'm not really fussed about it. I don't mind the drive,"
To be fair, this was true. You didn't particularly mind driving and, if anything, it would be a chance to get away from the usual case routine and the team. You loved the team to pieces, you really did, but sometimes you wanted some time after a case to shut off and not be reminded of work. Not to be reminded of the things you saw all the time. But it really wasn't much a drive from North Carolina to Quantico.
The team offered their goodbyes as you turned away, walking over to the car.
"Stay safe," Prentiss called as she began to board the plane, the rest of the team following suit. Or so you thought.
You felt the weight of your go bag slide from your shoulder as you opened the trunk of the car. When you glanced to your right, expecting to find the bag on the floor, you were met by a pair of familiar shoes. Your eyes followed the shoes upwards until you were met with Hotch's face, partially obscured by his sunglasses.
"I don't want you to drive alone in case something happens," He mumbled, placing your go-bag into the trunk, followed by his own.
"I'm fine, Hotch," You sighed, but he shrugged.
"I don't mind the drive,"
"I'm the one driving,"
"Sure," He gave you a soft smile, before slowly peeling off his suit jacket and undoing his tie, laying them carefully on top of the bags in the trunk. Your face must have given away your surprise.
"What? I want to be comfortable," He muttered as he closed the trunk, striding over to the driver's side door.
If he hadn't have tried to sit in the driver's seat, you may have stood in shock for a few more moments at the rare, relaxed nature of your unit chief. The rolled up sleeves, the undone top button of his shirt - he looked softer, less authoritative. He was more like 'just Aaron' than SSA Aaron Hotchner, the personal side of him that no-one really saw all that much - especially you, with being one of the newest team members and the way you acted around him.
You'd always pushed your luck with him and you knew it too. It's not that you didn't get along, because you did - rather well - but along with the friendship came the bickering, sometimes helpful and sometimes completely childish and useless. You were outspoken, with a strong, sassy personality and that seemed to clash with his 'boss-man' attitude but it also meant that, when you did start arguing during a case, you tended to have breakthroughs that may have taken hours to happen otherwise. Constantly challenging each other, usually in the best way possible, lead to better profiling. Better outcomes. You guessed that's why he'd never had a meeting with you about your behavior.
Keeping your mouth shut in front of other police departments was a trick that you'd learned quickly, but as soon as it was just the team left in a room, you'd begin clashing.
Like now. He was in the driver's seat and you weren't having that.
"Not happening," You attested, placing your arm in the way of the door so that he couldn't close it.
"Why do you always want to drive?"
"You're a profiler. Figure it out from the passenger seat," One of your hands was now on your hip and you beckoned him out with your other hand: a cheeky, defiant gesture that Hotch seemed to find funny as he got up from the seat, chuckling.
Hotch was chuckling. Chuckling.
Jesus, the man removes a jacket and tie and transforms into a completely different person.
You got comfortable in the driver's seat, starting the engine.
That's when you first noticed his arms. Strong forearms, littered with hair and veins, connected to his rough, manly hands that were currently messing with the GPS.
But your stubborn nature was stronger than your curiosity to see parts of Hotch that you'd never seen before, as you slapped his fingers away from the screen.
He ignored you, bringing his hand back to the screen.
"Take this route, it'll be the easiest," He commanded, and you pulled a face.
"This is my drive, Hotchner," You countered.
"Why do you have to argue with everything I say?" He quizzed, but you detected the soft humour within his voice.
"Add that to your list of things to profile about me,"
"Seriously, you should take this route,"
"Seriously, you should get on that plane before it takes off,"
"Just take the route, Y/N,"
"Fine, but you just lost car DJ privileges,"
You connected your phone to the car, catching Hotch smirking to himself from the corner of your eye. Little shit.
You drove away from the airstrip, glancing at the GPS to track which road you should get to.
You'd been driving for about fifteen minutes when he spoke again.
"I thought losing the DJ privileges would mean listening to your music, not complete silence,"
You rolled your eyes. You hadn't actually noticed the silence, your brain was balancing following the GPS with the thought of Hotch's arms, but he just had to interrupt. Not that the GPS was at the forefront of your mind now - you were on this country road for the next two hours.
"The engine is a nice road-trip soundtrack," You declared.
"Come on, give me your phone,"
"No,"
"Y/N,"
"You're not having my phone,"
"If you don't give me your phone, I'll be the DJ,"
"God, no," You scoffed, letting out a light laugh. "I'm not listening to The Beatles for the next few hours,"
The next moment, a heavy hand was on your leg. His hand was on your thigh. Well, more your hip, his fingers pulling and pressing into your skin.
"What the fuck are you doing?" You hissed, glancing down to find his hand clawed into your waist, two of his fingers rummaging through your front trouser pocket.
"Saving you from hearing The Beatles for the next few hours," He muttered, finally retrieving your phone from your pocket and leaning back into his seat.
Put that hand back on me.
The intrusive thought caused your eyes to widen and you hoped that Hotch didn't notice your expression. You tightened your hands onto the steering wheel. Where the hell did that come from?
"I guessed it right," Hotch's voice interrupted your internal monologue. You kept your eyes on the road, your mind hadn't processed what he'd said...yet.
"Wait, you know my password?" You suddenly burst out, taking a second to glance over at him. He'd abandoned his sunglasses, his eyes squinting at the phone screen and his brow furrowed. Your brain noted how small the phone looked in his palm, and how big his fingers were as he swiped the screen.
"What do you want on?" He asked, ignoring your outburst, his finger scrolling something on the phone screen. "You have a driving playlist saved, want that?"
"Sure," You granted, sighing. The music began, and your right hand snaked out towards the volume knob on the console, cranking it higher.
"Well, I'm running down the road, tryin' to loosen my load, I've got seven women on my mind," You sang along. You felt Hotch's eyes snap onto you. "Four that wanna fuck me, two that wanna kill me and one says she's a bitch of mine,"
The laughter that erupted into the car was completely unexpected, but an oddly warm and comforting sound. Almost like a homely sound.
"The lyrics have changed since I last heard it," Hotch spluttered.
"It's my hidden talent," You quipped, and Hotch laughed again. His voice got higher when he laughed, when he really laughed, a boyish charm to it. You wouldn't have bet on that.
"What? Changing the lyrics to songs?"
"Making songs more explicit. I'm pretty sure that's the kind of lyric that The Eagles really wanted to write," You let out a giggle then. "What? Didn't you profile that about me?"
"I'm honestly not surprised," His laughter subsided as you both listened to the song.
If someone would have made you write down what you thought would happen on the drive back to Quantico with your boss, you'd have never written an Eagles karaoke session down. But that's exactly what happened when Hotch started singing along, seemingly at ease.
"Lighten up while you still can, don't even try to understand, just find a place to make your stand and--"
"Take it easy," You joined in, both of you smiling wide as the comfort of the moment took over. Something free was settling into the vibe inside the car as you settled into a random game of popcorn, the grins never fading from your faces.
"Lookin' for a lover," He sang.
"Who won't blow my cover," You took over the next line.
"She's so hard to find," You both sang together, chuckles emitting within your voices. He wasn't bad at singing, either. He was pretty good, actually. You liked it.
You were actually enjoying the journey, and you'd spent three hours so far singing and talking, with no bickering in sight. That was until you spotted the sign.
"Hotch, are we driving south?"
"What? Virginia is north,"
"That says South Carolina,"
"What?"
Hotch paused the music and you pulled over, pointing to a sign ahead. Hotch followed your finger.
Welcome to South Carolina!
"How did you end up driving south?" Hotch asked in disbelief, and you whipped your head around to look at him.
"Me? You made me drive this way!"
"I didn't tell you to drive to South Carolina!"
"You set the GPS!"
"To Virginia!"
"This ain't Virginia, Aaron!"
You noted that calling him Aaron caught him a little off-guard, but he leaned forward, messing with the GPS.
"Shit. I don't know how I managed to do that," He mumbled.
"You and your damn fat fingers. God, I'd have rather have listened to The Beatles than have to drive nine hours instead of four,"
The car was silent as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to figure out what to do. True, you enjoyed driving, but it was was the middle of the afternoon now and if you set back off towards Virginia, you'd be driving until almost midnight. You were tired as it was.
"Right, I'm gonna carry on this way. You're gonna catch a flight back to Virginia,"
"...and what are you going to do?" He asked. You were surprised he wasn't arguing with you, considering you were essentially bossing him around. He must have felt really bad.
"I'm going to take some personal time to enjoy Charleston and I think I've earned that time," You fumed, starting the engine back up. "You better start searching for flights on my phone and, for the love of God, Hotch, check that it's Virginia before you book it,"
Hotch remained quiet as you began to drive again, his face buried in the phone. Ten minutes later, you heard him lock the phone.
"I'm sorry, Y/N," He whispered, almost in shame.
"Look, it's fine. It's forced me to take some time off, maybe I needed it,"
"There's no flights,"
"What?"
"There's no available flights until tomorrow night,"
"So I'm stuck with you. Great,"
"I can book myself into a hotel next to the airport,"
His nature had changed from what you were used to. He seemed genuinely apologetic, almost upset, and seemed to be trying his best to make sure you'd be left alone after the car journey. As if he felt like you'd genuinely had enough of him being near you, enough of his company.
You actually felt a little bad. Sure, you were angry, but now the idea of spending some time in Charleston had grown on you, and the newer idea of spending that time with Hotch had grown on you even more.
"It's okay. Find us a hotel in Charleston,"
"You don't want to get rid of me?" He asked lowly.
Your foot almost slammed on the brakes of the car so that you could properly look at him. You'd never known him to be so...soft? Insecure?
And why did the tone of his voice just hurt your chest a little?
"I guess not," You allowed a soft smile to grace your lips. "But if you don't press play on the music, I'm kicking you out of the car,"
"I'm picking the music,"
"No fucking Beatles!"
"What's wrong with The Beatles? What could you possibly have against The Beatles?" He queried with the ghost of humour back in his tone. The teasing, pushing tone that you were used to.
"I have nothing against The Beatles. Apart from sister having them on repeat for literally years. It was a blessing when she moved out,"
"Understood," He said, and music filled the car once again. Mack The Knife.
"A song about a serial killer? Really?" You burst into laughter, singing along. "Bobby Darin is a shout, though,"
What you didn't know, because your eyes were tailed onto the road ahead, was that the sound of your laughter had forced Hotch to stare at you, almost like he was trying to memorize exactly how you looked in this moment: bobbing your head and singing along with a smile on your face, as the sun cast a golden highlight through the car window around your hair like a halo. It enticed him to fully take in your features: the way the apples of your cheeks lifted when you smiled: the way your nose crinkled when you really got into the beat of the song; the way your eyes widened slightly when the enthusiasm of your singing reached another level and the way your eyebrows lifted when you mimicked Bobby Darin's accent.
When the song ended, Hotch's attention returned to the phone in his lap and the task at hand. Find a hotel for the night.
"I can't wait to lie in a bed," You sighed as you parked the car a few hours later. The world was enveloped in a 7pm golden hue when you stepped out, making your way to the trunk of the car.
"I'll check us in," Hotch called as he got out of the car. "Because there's no way that you'll allow me to be a gentlemen and grab the bags,"
"You're not wrong," You called back as Hotch disappeared from your view into the hotel. Your brain was too pre-occupied in wondering if you could convince Hotch to come to the beach with you tomorrow before his flight at night to notice his apologetic expression as you met him in the lobby.
"First, this actually isn't my fault," He began, shaking you from your thoughts.
"What are you talking about?"
"I swear, I booked two separate rooms. They've double-booked on their end,"
It dawned on you. Aaron seemed uncomfortable, the bouncing of his weight to and from each foot was minuscule, but you picked up on it.
"The universe is really at work today, Aaron," You sighed, resigned to sharing a room, handing him his go-bag. "Lead the way,"
He was silent until you approached the door of the hotel room. He paused before he opened it.
"You're stalling," You remarked, and you heard a soft sigh escape him.
"The only room available was mine,"
"...there's only one bed, isn't there?" You clarified, as Hotch scanned the key card and opened the hotel room door. Sat proudly - like it was beaming at you, rubbing the situation in your face - was one double-bed.
"I'll take the floor," He said as you both dumped your bags onto the bed.
"Don't be stupid,"
"Don't start your arguing over this,"
"You're not sleeping on the floor," You demanded.
"It's my fault that we're in South Carolina, you're not sleeping on the floor,"
"For god's sake," You grunted as you made your way to the bathroom, kicking your shoes off as you went. "We'll just share the bed then,"
You leaned over the sink to wash your face, without knowing that - outside the bathroom walls - Hotch's mind was having an argument with its self. One side of him agreed with you - you were co-workers, spent a lot of time together, good friends. There was no harm in sharing a bed. But the other side was screaming that it was a bad idea...the same side of him that kept thinking about the way you looked in the car with the halo of sunshine around you.
"I'm ordering room service," You announced as you walked back into the room. "I'll eat, shower and then hit the hay,"
"Okay. I'll call the team and let them know what's going on,"
A decent meal later, you trudged into the bathroom, struggling to keep your eyes open. The hot shower was still turned on from Hotch's use just before you and it lulled you into a sense of relaxation, the steamy waterfall soothing your skin and tired body as you scrubbed away the long day. Forcing yourself to brace the draught of the bathroom, you stepped out of the shower and dried off, putting on fresh underwear and a pair of shorts. Your sleeping t-shirt was no where to be seen in your go bag, and the rest of your clothes were either too gross to wear or to clean to waste for the next few days. Cursing, you stepped back and tried to figure out which t-shirt you would have to sacrifice out of public wear, when your eyes caught Hotch's shirt, folded up on the side of the sink counter.
Did you really dare? You knew he would have fresh clothes to wear tomorrow, and it didn't smell of sweat really, unlike your dirty clothes. It just smelled of him.
You'd already made your decision when you picked up the shirt, and you pulled it around you, buttoning up most of the buttons - leaving the top two open for comfort. The feeling of his shirt, the scent of him ingrained into it, gave you a strange feeling.
Hotch stared at you from the bed with a pained expression as you left the bathroom, sheepishly shuffling over to the unoccupied side of the bed. You pulled back the covers.
"I left my sleep shirt in North Carolina," You admitted, gingerly getting into the bed and snuggling down onto the pillow, trying to give him as much distance as you possibly could without falling out of the bed.
"You look good," He mumbled, just as your eyes began closing, and it made them snap wide open. Why was your heart beating like that?
This was Aaron Hotchner. It was Hotch, your annoying superior that you battled with constantly, the man that you wound up daily and sometimes made it a personal mission to get on his nerves. The agent that you never backed down from, the one that you had the weirdest dynamic with out of everyone on the team.
And here you were, lying in a bed with him with wide open eyes, heart beating hurriedly at the mention of him thinking that you looked good. This wasn't you at all.
"I am sorry that we ended up driving south," Hotch muttered, his back still towards you. Your hand drifted out from underneath the cover, tapping his shoulder lightly. He turned over to face you.
"I'll completely forgive you if you come to the beach tomorrow," You propositioned, a coy smile tugging at your mouth. His mouth returned the smile, but his eyes were roaming your face as if he was searching from something else.
"Why do you always argue with me?" He asked, softly. The question caught you off-guard a little.
"I don't know. I just do," You whispered back. "It's weird. It's not as if I despise you or anything. I feel like we think in the same way, but opposite pathways. We consider things that the other person hasn't,"
He nodded, seeming satisfied with your response.
"Why are you so different right now?" You thought aloud and his eyes bore into you.
"What do you mean?"
"You're softer. Kinda sweeter. You're off duty,"
"I'm off-duty. You just said it," Hotch's chuckle was barely audible. "You really thought I'm intense and serious all the time?"
"...no," You sighed. You weren't sure if it was the vulnerable moment, the honesty within the air or just pure tiredness, but the atmosphere grew heavy in a comfortable way, and all boundaries seemed to fade away as you felt a pull begin to take hold of you. You didn't register what you were doing as your face drew closer to his, stopping when your noses brushed.
"Please tell me now if I'm overstepping anything," You mumbled. Hotch felt a twinge in his chest - the sassy, fiery agent that he had always had a soft spot for was showing him a rare moment of complete vulnerability and trust. That halo was showing again.
He closed the distance, his top lip puckering in as he planted a soft kiss against your lips. You responded immediately, opening your mouth more to allow him access, your heart soaring as the kiss deepened in the sweetest way possible, his arms wrapping around you protectively, carefully. You pulled away slowly.
"So you'll come to the beach?" You giggled, and he returned the laughter.
"I might even stay for a few days," He said, but it was phrased more a question. He was asking you if he could.
"I'd like that,"
You blessed the agreement with a soft kiss and your thought from earlier was granted, when his wide palm graced your waist, his nails digging into the soft flesh.
------
@babymango-writes @disgruntledchowchow @hotforhotchner11 @baumarvel
join the taglist here
NSFW
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Style: One Shot
Contents: Smut, Dom!Spencer, Leash Fetish, Adult Language, Fluff.
A stupid dare from the annual BAU Karaoke Night turns into something that might be even more stupid.
Masterlist
“Y/L/N is late,” Hotch sighed, sipping the bottle of beer he held in his left hand, his right hand tapping rhythmically on the wooden back of the booth he was tucked into. The rest of the team shrugged lightly, focusing on their drinks, whilst Prentiss smirked at Penelope.
“You know she does this on purpose every time we’re out, sweetness,” Penelope giggled. “To remind you of the time when you nearly exploded in the bullpen because you thought she was late, when she was the first one to arrive that day,”
Prentiss began laughing, pausing to take a sip of her beer, pointing to Hotch.
“You should have seen your face when she appeared. I’ve never seen you go so red,”
“She’d dyed her hair, I didn’t recognise her,” Hotch muttered, cracking a smile at end of his sentence. “I did feel terrible,” He admitted, chuckling whilst Garcia cackled along with him.
“I recognized her,” Reid spoke, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You have her form memorized, pretty boy,” Morgan quipped, grinning devilishly and leaning forward to watch as the youngest squirmed a little in his seat, frowning down into his cocktail.
Morgan clocked Y/N walking into the bar lounge, raising his eyebrows slightly. She stopped at the bar to order a drink and he saw his opportunity.
“What else do you have memorized about Y/N, Reid?” Morgan began setting his trap, slowly making Reid uncomfortable, waiting for the outburst. “How many times do you stare at her a day? How many times have you drained your coffee just to run to the coffee machine whilst she’s there? I bet you could make her a perfect cup of coffee,” His grin never wavered, staring his friend down, watching his brows furrowing and his nose twitching. Any second now.
“I don’t stare at her that much!” He burst out, just as Y/N approached the booth from behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly, recognizing the touch. He blinked at Morgan.
“You do,” Y/N exclaimed as she bent down next to his ear, the silver loop dangling from her choker hitting Reid’s ear lightly, and Morgan lost it, breaking into a small fit of laughter. Rossi tried to hide his smile with his hand, watching Reid’s eyes get wider. “Anyway, hello. Sorry I’m late, boss,” She teased as she shot a look at her boss, Hotch rubbing his temple with his free hand.
“It was a mistake!” He mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so you’ve said,” she drawled back.
Y/N took a seat in between Prentiss and Reid, clinking her drink with Emily as she sat down.
“So what’s the plan, Garcia?” Y/N asked, as Penelope began grinning to herself. Every year, on the BAU Karaoke outing, Penelope always brought some weird activity for the team to play around with before they were drunk enough to attempt karaoke. Last year, she’d brought Speak Out, which ended in Prentiss dribbling her drink all down herself and Hotch refusing to say the words and just trying to do his best authoritative look without laughing. The year before, they’d played Cards Against Humanity, where Reid’s cards made no sense to anyone other than to Y/N, making her laugh so much that her drink came out of her nose.
Garcia squealed as she pulled a large box from a canvas bag she’d hidden beside her feet, placing it in the middle of the table proudly.
“Babygirl, dares? We’re playing a dare game?” Morgan teased, as Penelope winked at him.
“Oooh, fun,” Prentiss leaned forward to read the box. “Drinking Dares. So there’s a spinner, and cards for dares. Simple,” She tapped her nails on the box and leaned back.
“Not quite sugar, there are props,” Penelope stood up and opened the box, her mouth slightly open as she set everything up, before revealing another black bag from beside her feet.
“This may end up being a regret,” Rossi chuckled, watching as Penelope shuffled the dare cards.
So far, the dares had been pretty tame. Kind of. Morgan was dared to lick Hotch’s cheek, which left the team doubled over in laughter at the fear on Hotch’s face. Prentiss had a pair of furry cat ears placed on top of her head with empty shot glasses hanging on the corners, and Rossi had slapped Reid across the cheek. Y/N was the only one who’d managed to stay out of the dares, enjoying watching the night unfold before her.
“Okay!” Penelope drained the rest of her drink. “Spin, girly!” She commanded to Emily. She leaned forward and flicked the arrow, the team watching intently as it slowly halted on Y/N.
“Finally!” Rossi clapped. “I thought you might make it out unscathed,”
Emily picked the top card from the dare deck, taking a second to read it first. She struggled to hide her laughter, turning to Penelope.
“Is there a leash in that bag?” She spluttered, and Y/N gasped.
“Oh god, I’m a pet aren’t I?” Y/N whined.
Emily cleared her throat before turning to face Y/N, barely able to control herself.
“Attach the leash to yourself. You’re now a pet. The person sat on the left to you is your owner, who has to hold the leash until the end of the session,”
Reid’s face flamed as he stared as Y/N. Morgan’s mouth swung open, desperately holding in the laughter bubbling up in his chest.
“Well, I’ve already got a collar,” Y/N sighed, as Penelope pulled out a bright pink dog leash from the black bag. Her hands shook from silent laughter as she passed it over to Y/N, who clipped it onto the loop of her choker, smirking at she passed the end to Reid. He took it and held it slackly in between two fingers, unsure as what to do or say.
“I guess I’m your bitch now,” Y/N remarked quietly, Hotch choking on his drink as he caught her comment.
Once the team grew bored of the dares, they chatted to each other, drinks happily flowing. Spencer sat alone, still holding the leash lightly, nursing his drink. He turned to see where Y/N had gone, she couldn’t have moved too far or he’d have felt a tug. She stood a few feet away from him, her back to him and her collar turned the opposite way. The loop was barely visible through her hair, but it gleamed at the nape of her neck, the leash trailing down her back loosely. Her elbow was casually propped on an empty table beside her, her other arm holding a glass of water. She didn’t drink all that much. Spencer then saw the man standing opposite her, smiling as he spoke to her. Touching her arm. Flirting with her.
He didn’t quite know why his stomach burned a little, or why his mind replayed Y/N’s voice over and over again. I’m your bitch now.
He looked down at the leash he had in his hand, gripping it tightly. Rossi watched, breaking his conversation with Hotch, as Reid’s other hand traveled further up the leash, pulling more tension.
“Shit, don’t do it kid,” Rossi whispered to himself as Hotch turned around, just in time to catch Spencer pull hard on the leash. Y/N toppled backwards, desperately holding onto her glass as the water rushed upwards and then found gravity, pouring down straight on top of her, soaking her hair and face. She found her footing and turned to Reid, who stared at her, a little in awe and shock at what he’d done. He gulped.
“She’s going to kill him,” Hotch muttered, as the rest of team caught onto what had happened, all silently staring at Y/N, seeing the anger flare up in her eyes. Her face was hard, with water droplets slowly trickling down her nose and cheeks. Y/N was pissed, but an idea formed in her head as she scowled at Reid, his face worried and taken aback.
She sat down next to him without saying a word, pulling out her phone to send a text to Emily. Everyone was still staring, waiting for the explosion. Y/N could be incredibly fiery.
Prentiss felt her phone vibrate and quickly read the text before meeting Y/N’s gaze, smirking. Everyone slowly went back to their conversations as Emily went to fulfill Y/N’s request.
“I don’t know why I did that,” Reid mumbled, and Y/N turned her head towards him as he quickly looked down.
There wasn’t time for Y/N to reply before the DJ’s voice called out her name and she quickly stood up and took off for the stage, dragging Spencer behind her, still holding the leash.
“It was a bad game of dares,” She giggled into the mic as she pointed to the leash, before the music started. Spencer awkwardly hid in the corner of the stage, holding the leash tightly, until Y/N turned around to sing in his face, chasing him around the stage as he tried to squirm out of the situation.
“Oh my god,” Penelope burst out, as she watched Y/N torment Spencer, singing and rapping the lyrics to Bloodhound Gang’s ‘The Bad Touch’ at him, incorporating exaggerated thrusts in his direction, which only made him squirm more.
All of the team watched, tears forming in their eyes, trying not to laugh so that they could hear Y/N. The entire scenario was so bizarre and if Prentiss hadn’t have been recording it, they’d have thought it wasn’t real the next morning.
However, things became even more bizarre when Spencer seemed to do a complete 180. He sighed and ran towards Y/N, instead of away, and sang the chorus with her as she held the mic between them.
“What is happening?” Morgan asked, his voice breaking from laughter, completely dumbfounded at what he was seeing.
“I’m more in shock at how Reid knows this song,” Garcia said, her mouth hung open.
“It mentions the discovery channel,” Prentiss choked out, her phone shaking as she filmed.
The two agents sat back down, both a little giddy with laughter, Y/N still quietly mumbling the chorus to herself. No one said a word, but finally let out the laughter they’d been holding in.
“I think we should
the end the night with that,”
“Reid, don’t you dare pull that leash whilst I’m driving, or we die,” Y/N yelled, as she started her car, Spencer chuckling in the shotgun seat next to her. “The deal was, you get a ride home if you don’t pull,”
“It’s technically the end of the session so you can take it off,” He said, leaning over to unclip it.
“I kinda liked it,” Y/N quietly whined, before pressing her lips together, realizing she’d said that out loud.
“I didn’t pick the dare, you can’t blame me,” Reid said, unclipping the latch from Y/N’s choker. He froze, suddenly hearing what she’d just said. He moved away slowly and did his seat belt as Y/N stared straight ahead, beginning to drive. The drive back to Spencer’s house was silent. Y/N never took her eyes from the road, no matter how many times she felt him glance at her. She still stared at the road for a minute after she’d parked outside his house, as he undid his seat belt and stayed put.
“I didn’t mean to make that so awkward,” Y/N softly spoke, barely being able to break her trance to look at Reid. He outstretched his arm curiously and thread his finger through the loop on her choker, barely tugging it.
They weren’t quite sure what was happening, but somehow Reid had tugged the choker too hard, and now he was tasting her mouth, his finger gripping the loop so tight that it dug into his skin. Y/N had no time to react before she found herself fighting her dominance with her tongue, her hands pulling at his hair. She lost and he took over, the nails on his free hand scraping her waist, still holding onto the loop. They ended up sliding into the back seats through the gap of the front seats, Y/N grateful for the tinted windows.
He lay on top of her, hungrily kissing her, before breaking away to drag his teeth down her jaw and onto her neck. Y/N whimpered, gripping his hair and roughly bringing his head upwards.
“I don’t want to know what’s happening right now, but are we seriously going to stay here when your house is right there?” She breathed.
“I can’t wait,” was all he could choke out, before daring his hands to trail lower, snaking his fingers up under her dress. He maintained eye contact, strong and demanding, so different than what Y/N had ever seen, as she heard a rip of fabric. He’d ripped her underwear apart. His hand dragged against her hips, before racing down and plunging into her sex, Y/N’s eyes widening at the feeling.
“You’re still my bitch,” He muttered as he went to work with his fingers, finding ways to make Y/N yelp like she’d never know herself to.
“I’ve always been your bitch,”
Her hands found the buckle of his belt, yanking it open and pulling down his jeans, his dick springing free.
“Spence,” she pleaded, her voice changing, and he removed his fingers from her, a worried look shadowing the lust on his face.
“We can stop,” He whispered.
Y/N shook her head, bringing her hands behind her back and pushing herself up towards him.
“Please fuck me,”
Spencer couldn’t help but grin at Y/N lying underneath him, her hair still a little damp from the water incident, her eyes glassy with need, her perfect face watching him intently.
“I never thought I’d be able to have this,” He admitted, his voice low and just above a whisper as pushed her legs apart and he lining himself up. He looked at Y/N one more time, a tiny voice in his head deciding that she didn’t want him, that it was a mistake.
“I always pictured this, Spencer. I just thought it would stay in my imagination,” She smiled, bringing her arms up and wrapping them around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Without warning, he thrust straight into her. Y/N moaned loudly into his ear as he stilled for second, letting her adjust to the feel and size of him. She was so damn tight.
“Shit,” She mumbled, her voice a little raspy, as Spencer began a pace, still adjusting to the feeling of her. He suddenly
picked up speed, his mouth returning to hers, pulling her bottom lip out with his teeth as the sound of quick slaps of skin colliding filled the car. He thrust faster and faster, pulling away slightly from her mouth to watch her face as it became a mess of eye rolling and pleasure. She wasn’t going to last at all. Her breathing was a mess of moans and gasps, barely able to look at him as her back started to arch. His finger grabbed the loop on her choker and pulled hard.
“My bitch,” He whispered, as he felt a wave of pleasure washing over him at the same time as she looked at him, desperately nodding as her walls closed around him, a low scream emitting from her swollen lips. He gently thrust out their highs, pulling out and collapsing on top of her. They lay there for a few minutes, both trying to regain a sense of reality.
“How do you know that song, by the way?” Y/N suddenly asked. He lifted his head, a playful and confused smile on his lips.
NSFW
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
Style: One Shot
Contents: Smut, Dom!Hotch, Angst, Degradation, Adult Language
You’d been warned about your temper by everyone, even the BAU Team. You just couldn’t help it.
Masterlist
Y/N slammed her fist onto her desk, making everyone in the bullpen jump. They all stayed silent for a minute, afraid to say one word in case they caught her rage. She was sick of the mountains of paperwork that suddenly appeared on her desk every morning, proudly plonked in the middle of the table. She’d only just been able to sit down to do her work, forced into meetings for the first two hours of her day and barely able to drink her coffee. She was furious, but she knew exactly which asshole had been dumping all the work on her.
“Reid, how many files did you have on your desk this morning?” She asked, her voice hard and even.
“Do you mean the paperwork or–” He flinched as she sighed, slightly worried. He knew how she acted when she got this mad, everyone on the team did - they’d known her two years and they still hadn’t figured out a way on how to calm her down.
They knew who made her the most angry, though. She made him the same way: his fuse was always so short when it came to Y/N. They avoided each other whenever they could, but the few times that they’d had to do something together had wounded up into a heated argument and one of them storming off. Yet, he wouldn’t transfer her and she wouldn’t leave. The team were used to the fights, sometimes even looked forward to the Hotch vs. L/N battles. At this point, it would be weird to see them getting along.
“Yes, genius, the paperwork,” She spat. For a second, her head cleared a little and she looked at Reid, his mouth in a tiny scrunch to the left of his face in concern. “Sorry,” she muttered, picking up her coffee mug and taking a long swig of it.
“I had 8,” He nodded, his face relaxing.
Y/N leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out under the desk. She bent her head back and groaned again in frustration, holding the lukewarm coffee mug in both hands.
“I had 19,” She grumbled, snapping her head back in place to take small sips of her drink. Reid raised his eyebrows in surprise, but bent his head back down to continue with whatever he was doing. Y/N sipped on her coffee, trying to compose herself, but the fact that it wasn’t hot only pissed her off more.
“L/N, you have paperwork to do,” Hotch’s voice drifted by her as he stealthy walked from his office to the coffee machine, on a mission for a fresh cup.
Just the sound of the man’s voice made Y/N’s hands clench around the mug, causing it to shake slightly. She stayed in her stretched out position on the chair, shooting Prentiss a look of annoyance after watching him storm by and halt at the machine.
“So do you,” Y/N replied, voice dripping in sarcasm, loud enough for him to hear her over the sound of the machine whirring as it refilled his mug. He turned around and shot her a glare, not surprised to see her give one back. She really got on his nerves. Her plain defiance of his authoritative gaze is what riled him up the most. She never backed down, unlike everyone else.
“I mean it, L/N. I want that work on my desk by the end of the day,” He said sternly, storming back past her and up towards the stairs to his office.
“By the end of the day,” She mocked him in a silly voice, sitting back up in her chair and placing her mug down, ready to begin crawling through the endless debris of paper and files on her desk.
“I heard that,” He warned, his hand on the door handle to his office, staring across at where Y/N sat, burning a raging gaze into the back of her head.
“You were supposed to,” She mocked again, not even bothering to turn around and address him. She could feel his stare, but didn’t care enough to acknowledge it. She flicked open a file and grabbed a pen, beginning to fill in the form.
“Office, now,” She heard him bellow. She huffed and rolled her eyes, throwing her pen back onto the desk.
“I’m doing the fucking paperwork, Aaron,” She yelled, leaning back in her chair again and spinning it to face him. She knew he hated her calling him by his first name. Not that she cared. She couldn’t stand the man and couldn’t be bothered
to pretend that she could tolerate him. All that mattered was that she saved lives and was a good agent.
“L/N,”
“For fuck sake,” Y/N grunted under her breath, standing up from her chair and walking over to the stairs to his office. He watched her, before opening the door and letting himself in, leaving it open for her.
“What have I d–” She whined in annoyance as she approached the door, not wanting to step into the room.
“Sit down and shut up!” Hotch roared as he snapped his head towards her. He couldn’t try to remain professional around her anymore.
The sound of Hotch’s scream gathered everyone’s attention as Y/N slammed the office door shut and locked it. Most of the team all gathered around Reid’s desk in the bullpen, watching through the blinds of the office. They’d never heard Hotch like that. He’d never lost his temper that badly at anyone, not even at the worst unsubs that they’d ever caught. They huddled together, waiting for the explosion to happen.
“She’s really pushed him this time,” Morgan sighed, whilst Reid flickered his eyes from his desk to the office window.
“I just don’t understand why they hate each other,” Prentiss whispered, her eyes glued to the window. “They’re so similiar,”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” JJ remarked, resting her chin on her propped up hand.
Inside the office, Y/N had actually shut up. She stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed against her chest and her cold glare fixated on her boss. He stood in front of her, mirroring her body language.
“You need to fix your attitude,” He began, as she gasped. He held his hand up to stop her from talking. “You wouldn’t have so much paperwork if you would just fucking follow orders, L/N”
“I do follow orders. You’re just always an asshole,” Y/N burst out.
“Strauss is catching on to your temper. Do you want to stay in the BAU?”
“My temper wouldn’t be so bad if you would just leave me alone,”
Things were feeling way more heated in that small office than any other argument had felt. You could feel your blood pressure rising and rising, you could see Hotch’s face turn redder and redder. The tension and hate had hit an all time high.
Hotch had to turn his gaze away from Y/N. He couldn’t bare to look at her right now, he was far too wound up. He noticed his team all silently watching, and strode towards the blinds, dropping them completely shut. They didn’t need to see this.
“You take far too many risks, L/N. Every time we’re on a case, I spend half my time worrying about what the fuck you’re thinking and planning instead of trying to catch the guy. You’re too reckless,” He said, his voice still harsh. Y/N turned away from him and began walking to the other side of the room, her hands turning into fists at the sides of her body. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes. It takes me a while to understand so much stupid at once,” She snapped back.
“Y/N, this is serious,”
“My job is to risk my life,” She argued, her voice becoming a little higher pitched as she swung around to look at him. There was a silence for a few seconds, before she turned to grab the door handle. “I’m done with this stupid conversation. Fuck off, Aaron,”
Hotch wasn’t sure what he was thinking, he just saw complete red. In a few seconds, Y/N was pinned against the door, his fists on either side of her head. She was breathing heavily, taken aback by his sudden outburst.
“I said fuck off,” She grunted, her eyes glowing.
He couldn’t unpin her. He leaned in closer.
“I am really sick,” he spat. “of your vile mouth and your behaviour,”
Y/N gulped, but met his eyes. She was not backing down from this. There was something a little different in his eyes, something she’d not quite caught onto before. Something that was almost playful. She decided to bite on that.
“I don’t think you are. I think you enjoy having me as a reason to let everything out,” She challenged. She smirked as his face quickly changed, a shadow
of surprise etching in his features. She’d got him. “Without me, you’d just be full of rage as well as being lonely,” She said, her words like poison as they reached Hotch’s ears. He’d never hated someone so much in his life. She was winning this argument, or whatever it had turned into, and it made his neck burn.
He kicked her knee, forcing her legs apart as he slammed his body onto hers. Y/N felt a sharp pain where his foot had collided with her, but kept her eye contact. Her smirk gleamed more on her face as she saw him become even more pissed off.
She brought her hands up to his shoulders and pushed her body forwards against his, in an attempt to unpin herself, but it seemed to charge him more. He slammed her back down against the door. Within seconds, she brought her hands up towards his hair, pulling hard as his left hand crawled down from the door and onto her throat, squeezing lightly.
“Just give in, Aaron,” Y/N gasped out.
He did. His mouth found hers, his hand still wrapped around her throat as his tongue slid across her lips and into her mouth. Y/N responded, eager to taste him, her fingers finding their way down from his hair and towards the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly. He drew back for breath and removed his blazer and shirt as Y/N ripped her t-shirt over her head. He allowed her to move out of his grasp, watching her take small steps backwards until her asscheeks hit the front of his desk. He matched her steps until she was trapped and pushed her backwards, using his hand on her throat, until she was lying on her back on the desk.
“Don’t bother trying to play with me, Aaron,” She chuckled. Hotch quickly undid his belt and pants, pulling his cock free. He pumped it a couple of times, watching as Y/N arched her back on the desk to pull down her jeans and panties to her ankles. He grabbed her thighs, pulling her down the desk towards him as she settled her restrained ankles in between his legs. Her knees lay almost touching the desk on, wide open and waiting.
“You don’t even deserve to be played with,” His voice was raspy and low, as he lined himself up and drove his dick straight into her, trying not to groan at the amazing feeling of her. Y/N bit her lip so hard that she could taste blood, but there was no way she was letting this asshole hear her moan. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“It’s your turn to give in,” Hotch commanded, as he saw the droplets of blood pooling on Y/N’s popped lip. He thrust into her, picking up a lightning pace and hitting her so hard that tears sprung in her eyes. Y/N tried to desperately hold onto her moans, but it was becoming more and more difficult as he fucked her in places she’d never felt so much pleasure from before.
“Shit, Aaron,” She allowed a small groan to slip, and he smirked, slowing down as he watched her stony eyes start to roll. He saw her legs start to tense and shake lightly.
He returned to his pace again, feeling his own end rapidly approaching as he thrust into her as hard as he could, letting every ounce of anger out into the agent that made him so furious.
“Aaron,” Y/N moaned softly as her legs shook more violently. He felt her tighten on him and climax, and it was only a few seconds before he felt every last bit of wound up emotion release itself out of him too, a euphoric pleasure washing over his body as he came inside her. He grabbed some tissues from a box on his desk as he pulled out of her, cleaning himself and her up. He watched her lie there for a minute, coming down from what he’d given her.
“I still think you’re stupid,” She puffed as she swung herself off the desk, her legs giving way underneath her. Hotch chuckled as she grasped the corner of the desk, aiding her to stand up straight. She pulled her jeans up as he retrieved his shirt, buttoning it back up.
Outside of the office, the team had become suspicious of the silence. Prentiss had lost the rock-paper-scissors bet and found herself slowly walking up the stairs to the office to
check on her boss and colleague. She knocked on lightly, as Y/N quickly pulled her t-shirt back on and unlocked the door.
“Is everything okay?” Emily asked as she opened the door hesitantly, her eyes quickly fixing on Hotch as he pulled his blazer back on, then onto the small fresh cut on Y/N’s busted lip.
“Everything is fine,” Y/N assured her, about to push her out of the door and follow her back into the bullpen, but Prentiss stayed rigid.
“L/N, your tshirt is inside out,”
“And you think I’m stupid,” Hotch chuckled, settling into the chair behind his desk.
