#they called me all the way from another unit to ask me
Text
Protector
summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)
wc: 9.8k (oh my god)
cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously
a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on
“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.
Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.
His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”
You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.
You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.
The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.
Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.
“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.
You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”
“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”
“Sounds good.”
You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.
“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”
You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.
You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.
“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.
Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.
------
“Hotchner.”
You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.
“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”
You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.
“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.
You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.
------
The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.
The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.
Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”
“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”
“Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”
“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?
The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.
You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”
“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.
“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.
“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”
You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.
Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.
Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.
You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.
As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.
You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.
“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.
You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”
“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.
“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.
“What’s your book about?”
Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.
“It’s a romance,” you confessed.
“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”
You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”
You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.
“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.
You smiled at his words.
“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.
“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”
You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.
“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”
You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.
“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”
“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.
“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”
“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.
“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”
“My dad said all that?”
“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.
Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.
“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”
“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”
“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”
“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”
He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.
“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.
“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”
You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.
“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”
You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.
------
You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.
You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.
“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”
He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.
“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”
“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.
You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”
“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.
You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.
As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.
The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.
“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”
“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.
-------
In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.
“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.
“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.
JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”
You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.
“No, I slept fine. I swear.”
“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.
“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”
“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”
“Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.
His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”
Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.
“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”
“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.
Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”
The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”
“Y/N,” Reid said.
All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.
“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”
“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”
“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.
“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.
“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”
-------
For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.
You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.
“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”
You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.
You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.
Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.
“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.
“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”
You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.
“Put it on.”
You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.
“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.
“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”
“That’s it,” Morgan said.
“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”
On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.
“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. I got it.”
“We’re counting on you.”
“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.
Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”
You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.
------
You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.
Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.
“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.
You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”
“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”
The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”
“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”
“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.
“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.
Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.
“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.
------
The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.
------
You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.
Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.
“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.
“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”
“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”
Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.
“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.
Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.
Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.
“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”
You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.
When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.
“How are you?”
“Everything hurts.”
“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”
“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”
“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”
“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”
“Yes?”
“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”
Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”
“Hotch. Please.”
Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”
You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.
“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”
He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.
“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”
You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.
“It was you?” you asked.
Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”
“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”
The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”
Hotch shook his head no.
“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”
Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”
“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”
Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.
You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”
The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.
“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.
“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.
Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”
The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.
“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”
“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.
“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.
Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.
Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.
Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.
“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.
A few of them chuckled at your antics.
“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”
“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.
“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.
“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.
“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.
A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”
“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.
You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.
“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.
Imagine how Hotch must have felt.
“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.
The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.
“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”
“You need sleep, sir.”
“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”
You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”
“It’s why I offered.”
You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”
“What can I do?”
“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”
“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”
When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.
“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.
“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”
You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”
He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.
“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”
Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”
He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.
“Goodnight, Hotch.”
“Goodnight.”
------
You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.
The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.
“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.
“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.
You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.
“How can I help?”
You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”
His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.
“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.
“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”
“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.
“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”
All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.
“Wait,” you said.
He froze.
You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”
You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.
“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”
You nodded.
He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.
------
The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.
When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.
“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”
“I can get my things just fine.”
“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”
You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.
The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.
Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.
“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”
You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.
You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”
“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.
You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.
Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.
Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.
“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”
“Hotch, what is all this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”
“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.
“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”
Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”
“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”
“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”
Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”
You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”
“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.
“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”
“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”
“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”
“I would do that for anyone.”
“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.
“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.
Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.
“This morning…” you said.
“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”
“Then what did Reid mean?”
Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”
“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”
“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”
You looked at him in shock.
He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”
“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”
Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”
“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”
“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”
“Stop it, now.”
“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”
“Hotch, I swear to god—”
“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”
“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”
“But he’s not just mean, is he?”
The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.
“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”
“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.
Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”
You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”
Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”
“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”
His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.
He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”
“This is ok,” you said, breathless.
“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”
A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”
You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.
“Your room. Now.”
His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.
Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.
“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.
You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”
“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.
You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.
“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.
“You, first.”
Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.
“Your turn,” he said.
You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.
“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.
You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.
“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.
“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”
Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.
“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.
You nodded.
“Use your words, honey.”
Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”
He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.
“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.
“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”
Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.
Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.
A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.
“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.
“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.
“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.
“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.
When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.
Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.
“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.
“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”
He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.
Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.
“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”
“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”
Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.
“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.
You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”
Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.
Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.
“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”
“Faster, please,” you said.
His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.
“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”
He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.
“Just like that!” you blurted out.
He did just that, slamming into you again and again.
“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.
“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.
He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.
“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”
You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.
“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”
“Chest!”
He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.
Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.
“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”
“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”
Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.
“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.
“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”
“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”
In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.
“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.
“The team’s gonna know,” you said.
Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”
You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”
“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”
Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.
************
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#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#bau team#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner fluff
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Boss Bitch
Where Y/N has gone more than a year without making fun of the guys she dated, but Aaron finds a way around his employee's situation.
warnings: overstimulation, squirting, period mentions, rough sex, pet names, mature content.
English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.
Working at the BAU was something she had dreamed of since she was just a child and at the same time something that had come true before she could have imagined, making her a young agent, just like Spencer was, even though you were still older than the genius with more PHDs than a normal human being could imagine. She had been there for a little over two years, working with something she liked and making friends she could never have imagined before.
Emily, JJ and Penelope were her best friends, whether it was to comfort her when she had a bad day or got scolded by Hotch or also to have girls' nights and get a little drunk while talking unfiltered in Garcia's office. That wasn't the case at the moment, since they weren't in the living room of any of the girls there, but in the unit's break room. The last case had been solved in two days and with all the reports finished there was no harm in taking a few minutes to gossip and update each other on the group's latest encounters with some guys.
“He was extremely attractive and for a few minutes I thought he might be different from the other guys I’ve dated and would be able to give me at least a little pleasure, which clearly didn’t happen and so I ended up frustrated in my bed for another night. I think the lack of orgasms has been making me more stressed than my period.” You sighed, taking a sip from your cup of coffee. “Why is it that the men I date are so bad in bed?”
“Are you telling me that in the last few weeks you haven’t had an orgasm?” Garcia asked, looking shocked by that revelation that none of her friends expected. “It’s only been weeks, right?”
“Actually I don’t think I’ve cum in a year and a few days, it’s like I never get out of that pre-cum haze and the men I’ve dated definitely didn’t even help me get there.” You confessed, laughing weakly when you saw the shocked looks on the women’s faces. “I’m a difficult person in these aspects.”
“I don’t know how you’re putting up with this. I swear that if I went more than two days without cumming, I’d go completely crazy and pull my own hair out.” JJ said, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands. “Not even by yourself?”
Your shake of the head made the blonde’s eyes widen, taking another big sip from the cup of coffee she had in her hands. You could be sure that they had consumed more coffee in those few minutes of conversation than they would have consumed during the entire work week at the agency.
The conversation continued for the next few minutes, being bathed in tips that they would never have heard anywhere else and without any filter as it was spoken in that small room. What no one expected was that Aaron was listening to the obscene story that you told with frustration. Something grew inside him and the man knew exactly what he should do. Something that had been kept for much longer than could be put into words.
…
“Hey Y/N, wait a minute, I need to talk to you.” Your boss’s voice made you stop in your tracks. You didn’t need to look at your friends to know what they looked like at that moment. You just felt someone patting you on the shoulder before the women walked away completely, leaving the office along with Derek, Spencer, Luke, and Rossi. “Do you have something to do? I don’t want to keep you here if you have a more important commitment.”
“I have nothing to do, Hotch. I can stay as long as you need me to.” You looked into the older man’s eyes, ignoring the shock that ran down your spine in an electrifying way, almost causing a small spasm in your limbs. “Is it something about the case?”
“Just call me Aaron, honey. We don’t need formalities when it’s just the two of us.” The man laughed, leaning against his desk in a relaxed manner. You never imagined that the older man could become even more attractive with a small gesture and a mere affectionate nickname. You had never heard that masculine and soft tone in his voice. “I want to invite you, Y/N. Would you like to have some wine with me at my place? Jack went to a school camp, just you, me, wine and a probably bad movie that might be playing at this time.”
Her gaze rose until she met her boss again, feeling the same shiver as before, but in a different way, because looking into his eyes, she found desire, not just any desire, the perversion of that invitation that the man made with such a calm and soft tone of voice was palpable. If she wasn’t a profiler, she wouldn’t notice the lust hidden behind those good intentions.
“That would be great, Aaron.” She smiled, with that same perverse desire behind the innocent look she directed at the taller man. Maybe this was the chance to get out of that exhausting and frustrating fog she was in.
“It will be great to have you at my house, dear.”
…
The wine glasses were on the coffee table, the bottle in the middle of both, already half full at that point in the night. Small laughs came from their lips as they listened to yet another story about the older man's youth; they barely paid attention to the movie playing on television, too entertained with each other. Aaron already had a few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, the same piece that was unbuttoned from his pants, lifted in a way that showed only a small part of the 'V' line of his abdomen. There was no denying how attractive that man was, the years between you and him were what made your chest race and your breath pant the most.
Your own jacket was already off your body, the tight, long-sleeved blouse you were wearing highlighted your curves, just as that low-cut top made your breasts even more beautiful and appetizing in the eyes of your boss. The tight pants you were wearing that night left your thighs tight and spread across the sofa upholstery. Your long hair fell to your shoulders, covering part of your breasts visible through the tight neckline you were wearing.
“Is everything okay, honey? You suddenly went silent,” the man said, her gaze rising to meet his. She was sure her face was red at that point, and the provocative tone in the man’s voice didn’t help with the embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I can’t take my eyes off you either. Ever since you arrived at the BAU, with that curious and scared look, you looked like a lost little puppy.” He spoke softly, using one of his hands to brush her hair away from her cleavage. “But hearing you talk about how sexually frustrated you’ve been in the last few months gave me the courage to bring you here. I want to show you what should be done to a girl like you, honey. You deserve so much more than inexperienced brats who don’t know how to take care of that needy little thing that you are.”
“A-Aron,” she stammered, feeling her face heat up even more, her lips parting in a sigh as she felt his large hand wrap around her neck, only creating an attractive pressure in the place. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard everything, baby, every detail of how bad they’ve been, not getting you out of this horrible fog you’re stuck in, but in a way I thank them, if it weren’t for their terrible performance, I wouldn’t have the chance to be here. Now be a good girl and come to my lap,” Hotchner whispered, taking his hand off your neck so he could slap one of his thighs, indicating where you should sit. “But first take off your pants, just keep that pretty blouse and panties on, honey, I want to see how pretty my girl is.” It was almost humiliating how quickly you obeyed him, getting up from the couch, taking off your boots and socks to finally remove your tight jeans, revealing the light lace panties you were wearing to cover your already wet intimacy. You didn’t need to move, the man was quick to pull you to straddle one of his thighs, the surprise friction made you moan softly at the contact, that was music to the older man’s ears. “I’m not just going to take you once tonight, darling, I’m going to make up for all those frustrating months you’ve been through. I’m going to make you cum until you pass out in my arms from exhaustion, until you’re left speechless from screaming my name every single time. Do you hear me?” You nodded, shaking your head frantically as you felt your juices getting even wetter on his dress pants, further increasing the dark stain that was appearing on the fabric. “So fuck yourself on my thigh, I want to see your pretty face as you feel pleasure, like the needy, delicious little thing that you are, does that sound good to you? Answer me with words, I want to hear your voice.”
“O-Okay.”
The man smiled at her tone of voice, holding her hips to make her move against his thigh, making her moan loudly and grab his shoulders, squeezing his skin over the button-down shirt he was still wearing. The friction of the fabric of her panties and his pants against her pussy was making her eyes not stay open for long, the pleasure of just doing that was devastating for her little body, which had been so long without feeling anything like that.
“You look so fucked up just riding my thigh, baby, moving that wet pussy and making a mess in daddy’s pants, don’t you?” Aaron smirked, holding her jaw with one hand, the other kept moving her hips, increasing the friction of her pussy on his leg. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget all the times you went out with a man, you’re going to cum until I decide I’ve had enough.”
“Daddy.” Another moan escaped your lips, your mouth remaining open long enough for a trickle of saliva to run down your chin and drip onto the same spot where your juices were, increasing the wet mess on the man’s pants. “I-I want to cum, please.”
“But I’m not stopping you, darling. Why are you begging?” The man looked at you with a smile on his face, surprised to realize that all you needed was a command. Aaron enjoyed listening to you moaning, trembling on his lap as if you were going to faint at any moment. “Do you need me to tell you? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He brought one of his hands to your hair, pulling it roughly so that you could look into his eyes. The darkness of desire was much clearer than any light. “You can come, pretty girl. Come for me.”
It only took those words for you to come on his lap, cumming until your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed constantly. Your cum came out in an impressive amount from your pussy, wetting the man's pants even more. Aaron held your body against his chest, running his hand through your hair until you stopped shaking.
“Fuck,” you gasped, looking up to meet the man's eyes, still dark with desire. Aaron smiled sideways, pushing your still weak body so that you lay down on the couch. The man was taller than you, considerable and attractive inches, he hovered over you, moving his hands until they found the soaked fabric of your panties. “Aaron, please,” you whimpered, closing your legs until the man's hand was trapped between them.
“Be a good girl and spread your legs wide for me, okay?” he said, his lips so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath hitting your face. It didn't take much for you to open your legs for him, moaning sensitively as you felt the fabric being pushed aside and the man's fingers moving against your lips, the wet noise seemed to echo through the silent room. "So wet, my love," you whispered, bringing your sticky fingers to your own lips, licking your cum until your digits were clean.
You couldn't hold back when you grabbed the back of the man's neck and pulled him until your lips were glued to each other, delighting in your own cum that was in his mouth. Aaron held your waist, pressing your body into the soft upholstery of the sofa, one of his hands returned to between your legs, two fingers were enough to make you almost scream against the older man's lips. He thrust them in roughly, your eyes rolling back as you felt each movement of his long, thick fingers fucking your pussy as if they were his cock. The wet noise was the only thing to be heard besides your moans during the kiss.
“You squeeze my fingers so well, darling, showing how much you want to cum again, even though you can barely keep those fucking legs straight.” He laughed sensually, breaking the kiss with his hand on her neck, squeezing until her mind was spinning a little, the amount of oxygen reduced until she was panting between moans and small screams, which increased as her second orgasm arrived.
“AARON” Your scream reverberated through those walls, when once again you reached your peak, cumming hard on the man’s fingers, until your vision went white and thick tears ran down your eyes, further increasing the wet mess that was already dripping on the couch.
Your mind was blank at that moment, but your pussy still contracted in anxiety when the man removed his fingers, hearing the soggy noise that echoed through the room, that caused a sideways smile on your lips. Aaron caressed your neck, running his other hand over your bust, taking advantage of the moment to take off the blouse you were wearing, revealing the lacy bra that held your full breasts. You looked at him with teary eyes, your face red from the tears and the effort of the orgasms that took over your body in a few minutes of rest between them.
“Even after cumming twice, are you still eager for more, dear? You are a needy little thing who deserves to be taken care of properly, to cum until your brain stops working properly and you can't say a single word completely." He said smiling, squeezing one of your breasts with the hand that ran over your abdomen. Your body was sitting on the couch, the man on his knees between your legs, using both hands to slide your panties down your legs, leaving a trail of his cum on your skin, the underwear made a wet sound as it was thrown to the floor, your bra followed suit seconds later. You were completely naked in front of the older man. "I'm going to taste you and take you in my mouth, then I'm going to fuck you with my cock until you have no more voice from screaming so much." Your cry of surprise was clear and loud when the man connected his lips with your sensitive and soaked pussy, your hands automatically flew to his dark hair, pulling and moving in a confused way. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling against the back of the furniture, everything seemed to spin around you. She felt her intimacy tightening against the older man's tongue, which went in and out, licking bundles between her lips, taking everything that was left of her previous orgasms, while a new one formed at the base of her belly.
Her thighs opened and closed, until his large hands held her open, squeezing the flesh until the red marks of his fingers were there. New tears were already running down her eyes, wetting her red and hot cheeks, her hand clenched in the strands of the man's hair, the other digging her nails into the upholstery of the sofa, her brain not working properly, her vision with white spots as another wave of cum burned in her pussy. Aaron smiled against her lips, using his fingers to press her clitoris when her orgasm finally hit her body for the third time, sobs leaving her lips as she felt the man's mouth continue sucking her intimacy, enjoying every new drop of her liquid. Confused and pleasurable screams came from his lips, repeating the older man's name constantly, his legs trembling when the fourth orgasm came a few seconds later, his eyes rolled back and saliva dripped from his open mouth, dripping onto his neck and running down to his breasts.
"You taste perfect, honey." The taller man smiled, his lips dirty from his cum as he stood up. He ran two fingers over his lips, cleaning them and bringing them to his mouth, which automatically opened to receive the man's long digits. He closed his eyes as he felt his own taste. He sucked his boss's fingers until they were completely clean, running his tongue over them as if he were sucking his cock. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name, Y/N."
A confused smile appeared on her lips, but her legs opened again, as if they were an invitation to the man, who laughed and landed a weak slap on his face, making she open her eyes and moan from the small fright. Aaron was amused by her expression of pleasure and exhaustion, all that frustration and knot in her eyebrows had fallen with each of her orgasms.
“Let’s go to my bed.”
Your body was carried to the man's room, your legs entwined around his waist and your head resting gently on his shoulder. Your eyes opened when you felt the soft mattress hit your back, you sighed and looked around, too confused to care about anything other than the older man. Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor, his pants and underwear followed suit soon after, you smiled sideways, admiring your boss's body, your gaze falling on the large, thick, erect cock that rested on his defined abdomen.
The older man walked to the bed, kneeling on the mattress as he stood between your legs, which automatically wrapped around his waist. His erection rubbed against your pussy, which was once again wet, leaving a small stain on the light sheet. Your eyes met, your hands holding his broad shoulders, your nails weakly biting the light skin.
"Fuck me, Daddy," you begged, your lips parting in a low moan as you felt the thick phallus forcing against your wet hole. Aaron entered slowly, enjoying the anxious and tearful expression that his face took on, her eyes closing and opening until he finally took the older man's entire cock, his nails scratching the skin of his shoulder harder. The man moaned hoarsely, bringing one of his hands until it was pressed against the base of his belly, the burning was pleasurable, forming tears in her eyes. "O-Oh yes, please, that feels so good."
"Please what, honey?" He asked, still not moving, his hand pressing harder on her belly, causing a loud moan and a new scratch, this time on his back. "Use your words."
"Move, please, I need you." She cried, biting her lips at the extreme pleasure that returned to her body again.
Aaron began to thrust inside her, hitting spots that made her crying increase, sobs mixing with the moans and prayers that took over her lips. The older man's hand was squeezing your abdomen, moans that also came out of your lips every time you pressed his cock inside you.
He moved his hand down to play with your clitoris, pressing two fingers against your mound of nerves, causing confused screams and saliva to run down your open lips, increasing the wet mess on your cheeks. The man smiled with a moan, moving his hand down to your pussy that received his cock so well, your eyes opened in surprise when you felt two fingers forcing their way in along with the man's penis.
Your body writhed on the sheet, your nails scratching more red lines on your back, your crying increasing with that strange sensation that formed at the bottom of your belly. The man's fingers curled inside you, at the same time that his cock entered and left you forcefully, making you even wetter than you already were. Your eyes closed, your lips remained open in frequent moans, your hands flying to the sheet, squeezing the fabric and pulling it tightly.
“AARON” She screamed, feeling her vision go white with that hot sensation in his belly. It only took one thrust for her to be spurting on his cock, a squirt of cum staining the man’s abdomen and increasing the mess on the sheets. She felt the older man cumming inside her, increasing the wet mess that her pussy had become. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily and the tears that continued to fall from his eyes.
Aaron left you with a soaked sound, watching his cum drip from inside your pussy. You were a mess on the sheets, your eyes closed, your face wet with sweat, saliva and tears, your hair sticking to your forehead, your breathing labored and your chest rising and falling.
The man left the bed seconds later looking for clean sheets and a wet towel, which he used to clean your body and his own abdomen. Your eyes were still closed, your breathing calmer and no more tears running from your eyes. Aaron was careful when changing the bed cover, not making it lift at any point, he threw the dirty fabric on the floor and left the room, getting a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to bed.
“Honey, I need you to drink this, you need to hydrate.” He spoke softly, stroking her hair affectionately, her eyes opened tiredly, an exhausted groan leaving her lips “Come on, drink a little and then go to the bathroom, then we can sleep”
“I’m tired” She murmured, her voice hoarse and low. Aaron held the glass until she finished drinking, smiling proudly when he saw the empty glass. The man left a kiss on her forehead, leaving the glass on top of the dresser next to the bed. “Can you carry me?”
“Of course I can, my pretty girl” He laughed weakly, running his hands over your body until you were in his lap, on the way to the bathroom.
They went back to bed after a few minutes, you fell into a deep sleep the moment you laid your head on the man’s chest, with his large hands roaming your hair and waist.
“You’re adorable, Y/N”
#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x reader#criminal minds#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fanfiction
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These men, these heroes, and the millions of others who fought with them, are proof that freedom is indeed never, ever free. Teenagers at the dawn of World War II, some even younger, like 12 year old Calvin Graham, they signed up to fight the good fight and because of their bravery, changed the course of human history.
🇺🇸 🇬🇧 🇫🇷 🇦🇺 🇧🇪 🇩🇰 🇵🇱 🇳🇴 🇬🇷 🇳🇱
Franklin Delalo Roosevelt's 'prayer' - June 6, 1944.
"My fellow Americans: Last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far.
And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer:
Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our Nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.
Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.
They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.
They will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest-until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men's souls will be shaken with the violences of war.
For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and good will among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.
Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.
And for us at home -- fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas -- whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them--help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.
Many people have urged that I call the Nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.
Give us strength, too -- strength in our daily tasks, to redouble the contributions we make in the physical and the material support of our armed forces.
And let our hearts be stout, to wait out the long travail, to bear sorrows that may come, to impart our courage unto our sons wheresoever they may be.
And, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee; Faith in our sons; Faith in each other; Faith in our united crusade. Let not the keenness of our spirit ever be dulled. Let not the impacts of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moment let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose.
With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogancies. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister Nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.
Thy will be done, Almighty God.
Amen."
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When vs If
PAIRING - Oikawa Tooru x Reader
WC - 3.1K GENRE - Angst
SYNOPSIS - You said 'if', when did it stop being 'when'?
PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART
You had convinced yourself that you were overreacting. Nothing was wrong. You were being paranoid based off of past experiences. You had convinced yourself, or he had convinced you. You were imagining it when you thought he was acting like something had been bothering him.
You were only being insecure every time you asked, just to make sure, when he was acting like something was wrong, when he swore nothing was wrong and he was just tired. "Are you going to break up with me?"
Tooru had convinced you that you were overreacting when he always replied with the same answer. "Of course not baby, you're never going to get rid of me. I'm here to annoy you for the rest of our lives."
He convinced you to ignore the gut feeling you had about it. Just three days ago, when you were driving to look at apartments, he brought up just building yourselves a house, just like how you wanted to. Told you that eventually, when you moved cities, it could become a summer vacation home and they could build another to raise your kids in.
He convinced you when he talked to his family, telling his nephew about how you were an addition to the family. When his family praised you for taking care of him.
You always took care of him. More than he asked.
You packed him lunches and made breakfasts and dinners. You made sure the laundry was done and tried to clean. You made sure to remind him to take care of himself too, to not overstress himself the exact way you did.
Every time you crashed down and thought that maybe your love was overbearing, that you didn't get the same reciprocation. Every time you asked "are you going to break up with me," he assured you that he wouldn't. He'd pepper your cheeks with kisses and hold you while you sniffled back your tears.
Ending college was hard. There were so many unknowns. Finishing up the last project of the year was infinitely harder. You were way past your deadline for it but you had an indefinite extension. The only limit was the one you put on yourself, getting it in by the end of summer.
The concern of where you would live the next year only added to it. You and Tooru's original decision of no roommates had morphed into him slowly trying to push the idea of sharing a space. A last resort, he called it.
You worked two jobs trying to prepare to move, trying to avoid the stress of thinking about it. To make sure that you had enough money for the new place. So once you got there, there would be no more worries.
Today was the end to a long week. Sunday. Your last shift until the next Monday. You'd agreed with T0oru to take the whole week off to pack your house and move into a storage unit. You were both supposed to crash at Makki and Mattsun's until you'd heard back from the complex you were putting an application into tomorrow.
You were off by 3pm, your boss having let you off early so that you could go home and start packing. You'd lost track of time since then, a show playing in the background as you packed all the clothes that you wouldn't need for the next three weeks (just to be sure).
It was almost 8 before you decided on a small break. Almost 8 until you realized that you hadn't heard from Tooru all day. The only thing bringing this to your attention now, was his name finally popping up on your phone
He was supposed to be off at 8:30. Just 30 more minutes before he would be coming home and you could make your official plan about how to tackle the upcoming week and everything else moving forward.
He'd sent you a snapchat with a filter on, little horns coming out of his brown curls and a silly look on his face, tongue poking out at you. You'd laughed and sent one back quickly. Silly pictures sent back and forth and only a small bit of conversation as you waited for him to be finished at work. 'How was your day today?' 'Long.' 'Yeah, me too. I'm so exhausted.'
It was finally time for him to be off, you could tell by the way that the scenery behind him changed from inside the gym to the open sky of the parking lot. You decided to ask if he wanted to get the food you'd been craving.
From y/n <3: How do you feel about getting pizza when you come home?
That was when the dreaded text came in. The worst thing you could say to an overthinker.
From Royal Pain <3: Okay. I just want to talk to you about something first.
Your heart stopped in your chest. Sudden pressure, tightness winding from your heart and consuming your lungs.
From y/n <3: About what? Should I be anxious?
He took too long to open it and the bubbling anxiety forced you to hit call on his number. You were greeted with the rumble of his car engine when he picked up. "Should I be anxious?" You repeated the question out loud and he sighed.
"No, no sorry." He apologizes and sighs again. "I know that was suck wording, I just wanted to sit down and have a conversation about some things."
You could hear the tightness in your voice, like your anxiety circled each word as you spoke. "Okay, what things?"
"Love, I'm gonna be home in like 5 minutes and we'll talk."
Your legs moved on their own accord, lifting you off of your shared bed and taking you downstairs as he spoke, your need to pace arising. Pace to get out all the anxiety that built inside you.
You didn't want to push him. "Okay, I love you, Tooru."
"Love you too, I'll be right there."
You found yourself in the garage, carried by your feet subconsciously. You'd tucked yourself safely into the little corner of the couch you and your roommates had kept in there. Brought your knees to your chest and covered yourself in a blanket.
You were trying to will your anxiety to stop. He promised he wasn't leaving. He just wants to talk.
"What are you doing out here?" Tooru asked when he found you after looking through the house. "I thought you'd be in our room."
"I had anxiety and just kinda ended up here." You mumbled and he nodded in return. You waited for him to sit next to you. He didn't. He stayed standing. "Tooru, can you please tell me what's up?"
He took a deep sigh before starting. "There's a few things that have been bothering me about our relationship and I just want to try and talk them out before I keep bottling them up. Before they get so bad that they aren't fixable anymore."
You felt the anxiety building up even more and you winced. You had been doing something wrong. Like always. And then there was a quick rush of anger.
He had said 'keep bottling them up.'
He had sat there and convinced you that you'd been imagining it. He had convinced you that the gut feeling you had about something being wrong with him was fucking incorrect.
You wanted to scream. All you did was whisper. "Okay."
He listed out his reasons and you tried to stay quiet. You tried to listen. To look at him. But every time you looked at him you could see him breaking your heart a million times. You couldn't hold the contract for very long.
You were trying to not cry. You were trying to explain yourself when he said there was something you did. You were apologizing. Apologies formed in the frame of: 'I'm sorry.' 'I didn't realize I-' 'I did it because..."
You never got to finish your reasons with another "I'm sorry if I hurt you." You were trying to get there but he always cut you off.
"I don't get why you have to argue with me." He exclaimed the last time he cuts you off. You pause. Was that what you were doing? Had you been arguing? "I'm just trying to tell you what's wrong so we can fix it."
"I'm not trying to argue!" You defended yourself. "I was just explaining why I did it so you could see where I was coming from." You wiped your palms against your cheeks in frustration, trying desperately to keep the tears back.
"It's easier to fix if we get where the other is coming from, we can find somewhere to meet in the middle." You whimpered at the eyeroll you knew he'd done subconsciously. "Please, this is hard for me. It feels like you're breaking up with me."
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, shaking out some of his curls. "I'm not breaking up with you. I told you that." The words should have been comforting, but something about them made you more on edge. The tone in which he said them. Exasperation.
"Yeah," you scoffed, your anger getting a hold on you a little more, trying to protect yourself, "you also told me, repeatedly, that nothing was wrong." His eyes snapped back to you but you quickly looked away. The second that he looked at you softly, you would do anything he asked. You would lose yourself. Lose your will to fight for yourself to be heard.
"Now here you are, telling me that you were lying to me." You could feel a tear escape and you quickly brushed it away before he could take it in. "How do I know you were telling the truth every time you said you weren't going to leave me?" It was harsh but it was the truth you needed to say.
"Why don't you believe me? Huh?" He was raising his voice, something he rarely did, especially at you. "Is it trust issues or what?" He spit the words out, like they tasted bad on his tongue and you could see him fling his arms in the air from the corner of your eye.
"You are always 'your tone of voice' and 'your body language says'... God! Can you not just believe me!" He ended it with a groan. Frustration or annoyance, you couldn't tell, maybe it was a mix of both.
"I'm sorry, I just pick up on the way you act and underlying tones, it's a bad habit, I'm trying to stop." You were trying to drag your eyes back to him. He was looking down at you, standing instead of sitting on the couch with you, shaking his head at your responses.
"You can't just believe me? I don't get your whole thing about tone and whatever. But if we get married one day-"
You cut him off quickly, your full attention going to look at his face, to see if he realized what he'd done. "What do you mean 'if'?"
"What?" Genuine confusion crossed his face as he looked back at you, confused at the wide-eyes look across your own face as you looked up at him. You knew that terror was visibly seeping into each of your features.
"You said, 'if we get married one day'."
"Yeah." He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "And?"
"When did that become 'if'?" You asked the voice quietly, your voice barely rising to an audible level. You were afraid of the response. "Its always been 'when we get married', 'when we have kids', 'when'." He sighed and bit his lip out of what you assumed was his own nerves. "It's always been 'when' for me and I thought it was too. So when did 'when' become 'if'?"
"I don't know." He took a step back away from you, turning his body slightly away from you. It didn't go unnoticed by you. "A couple months ago?"
You scoffed in disbelief. A couple months. He'd been lying to you for a couple months. "Okay," you whispered, "you wanna know why I read into tone and body language?" You asked the question and he only rolled his eyes again. You didn't care, you kept talking.
"You just stepped away from me when you were talking about that. When you were talking about mentally changing the way you thought about us being together long term, you physically put distance between us. How am I supposed to take that?"
"You're not supposed to take it any way!" He exclaimed. "I got tired of standing without moving."
"Okay, why do you have to be standing, you can't put yourself on the same level as me. You have to be on a different level, to have all the control in this conversation. Like you've decided how this conversation ends."
"Oh my god!" He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Stop fucking reading into everything!" He shook his head like he couldn't believe that he had to deal with this. to deal with me.
"You want to talk about body language? Then what the hell does it mean that you can't seem to look at me this entire conversation when all I've been doing is looking at you!"
"That I'm worried if I look at you I'll cry. That I don't want to cry because I know you need this off your chest and you'll blame yourself and stop if I cry." That if you look at him, at Oikawa Tooru, the man you decided was the love of your life, then you would see what you saw the very first day you met him and he gave you that saccharine smile. You would see him breaking you into a million pieces.
"Please just sit down." You whispered, begging him.
"Seriously?" He scoffed but collapsed on the other end of the couch. He sat closer the the front edge of the couch and leaned far back into the seat, a position that screamed about how he didn't care. "This is really better for you?"
You winced at the harshness of his tone. The condescension seeping through his words. He thought you were being ridiculous and he was making it clear. You hated it, but it was better than him standing and physically looking down at you.
"Yes." He sighs and shakes his head but stays silent. "Let's just talk through this and we can fix it. We can find a compromise." You swallowed hard trying to explain. You were trying the 'I'm going to stop doing...' It was fine for a little while. Until you started to ask for things in return too.
"I will try to stop raising my voice, I just need you to tell me I am. I don't realize it a lot, we have different views on yelling. I need you to tell me."
"I do!" He was rolling his eyes but staring straight ahead, no longer at you. "I say, 'why are we yelling?' is that not telling you that you're yelling?"
"That's not what I mean, I can't tell you why, I don't understand it, but it doesn't click for me. It makes me think you're talking down to me and I know you don't mean to. I just need you to tell me 'y/n you are yelling right now'."
He puffed air out of his nose, hands running through his hair again. "That doesn't fucking make sense. I don't understand how your brain works." You could feel the tightening in your chest becoming overwhelming. You didn't understand it either. "Whatever. Fine."
"Could you help me around the house too? I know I've been slacking on some of the chores like groceries and laundry, but I need help. You only ever get groceries if I'm already going and even then, sometimes you don't come. And I always do your laundry too but you only ever do yours unless I ask you specifically."
They were small things to you, things you didn't mind doing, but you knew you needed help. And if you were attempting to change for him you needed something back. Something to help you ease up on your stress.
It went on for a little longer, what you thought were minor requests being met with annoyance and hesitation. Until he stopped responding all together. It was like you could see it happening, him disengaging, the gears slowing down in his head as they settled on a solution.
"Please talk to me." You begged for it. You couldn't let him get caught in his head. "Don't go quiet. Tell me what you're thinking." Your voice was quiet and wet, tears threatening to spill more than they already had. "I know you're getting in your head. I can see it happening."
He shook his head softly, no eye roll paired with it this time, no irritation at you. He was staring blankly at the wall in front of you both, his fingers rubbing into his temple. "I'm trying to decide if this is even worth it."
You froze in place, your body turning into a statue, watching your world crumbling around you. "What?"
"I don't know if this is worth it." He said it plainly. It was just a fact. No emotions attached to it. You were pretty sure that you could physically feel your heart tearing in your chest. "Is this even something worth fixing? Is it worth the effort?"
"What do you mean?" You squeaked out the words. This had to be a nightmare. You were sure of it. "Of course it's worth it to try. It's us. Years of us, of course it's worth trying." You were sure you would wake up in the morning and it would have never happened.
"Tooru, look at me please." He turned his head slowly, an apologetic look in his eyes. You would wake up and this would've been a scene your anxiety created in your head. "Tooru, are you breaking up with me?" You would open your eyes and still be waiting for him to come home from work.
His eyes looked glossy, but he nodded his head. "I'm so sorry."
All of the times you thought about it. All the times you had thought 'if he breaks up with me,' you had never thought 'when he breaks up with me'.
a/n thanks for coming to the free therapy of fictionalizing my irl breakup experiences. and yes. this was the actual way it happened
TAGLIST - OPEN
@all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings
#oikawa angst#oikawa toru angst#oikawa x reader#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa fanfiction#oikawa toru fanfiction#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#𓇻 Desiderium
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s1 episode 24 thoughts
aka SEASON FINALE! wow, one full season with these nerds... time flies <3
this episode was super fast-paced and full of twists and turns, straight from the beginning. we open on a very jerky chase scene that was hard to watch and which set the mood as a guy was shot and then jumps into some water and no one can find him
!! the title sequence changed !! it said "trust no one" rather than "the truth is out there"!! surely this means something, but what? i'm spooked!
mulder is sleeping on his couch again. can we please start a fund to get his ass a mattress. it's getting serious.
looks like he fell asleep working on a case when a phone call from deep throat wakes him up, telling him to change the channel where he sees the news of the opening car chase and records it on his VCR (how vintage!)
he shows the footage to scully who is basically like why do we trust this deep throat fellow- a valid question, as mulder trusts almost everybody like a little baby duckling- but scully referring to him as "deep throat" means they've discussed the subject before, which is interesting
we then visit a scientist who is working on monkeys. scully, for some reason, wants to say hello to the monkeys- perhaps we can chalk this up to her innate goodness
the scientist is like "leave those monkeys alone" and she says "i'm sorry, i thought they were friendly" scully, you should know that monkeys are NEVER friendly! they tried to bite her but thank god they missed because these are, after all, no ordinary monkeys, but Alien Monkeys
after the monkey business scully is pissed because they have no leads and she says we need to wrap this up! we've learned nothing! ohh i wrote this next part down word for word because it gagged me:
mulder is so trusting of deep throat and scully says he's stringing mulder along for some unknown purpose...
to which he says: "you think he does it because he gets off on it?"
and scully replies "no, i think he does it because YOU do"
oh i gasped and yelled at my screen! she got him! valid question though, why is this guy leaving them little clues beyond his earlier in the season confession of alien murder guilt? it IS suspicious.
mulder and deep throat confront each other and play more sick and twisted mind games which is fine; deep throat insinuates that mulder doesn't care as much as he used to which is rude but it spurs him on his quest for answers
next the monkey scientist kicks the bucket which obviously means his monkey science was deeply important
the guy who was doing the running during the car chase confessed to being underwater for 3 days after he was shot which obviously has implications but we aren't given a whole lot of time to explore them
back at the monkey lab, now a crime scene, mulder hands scully a flask of mysterious liquid and says "what do you think this is". she says "i don't know" then runs on a quest to go find out because he asks her to. god, dana scully has really had to endure SO much with this man, and now a mystery liquid from the monkey lab? again i ask where her compensation is
mulder breaks into the dead scientist's house, which revealed another basic and universal truth akin to gravity: if no one lets mulder in a house, he Will find a way to break in. he cozies up to the dead guy's desk and starts flipping through his stuff, and the runaway underwater alien guy calls and he picks up the phone like this is a typical day for him. alien guy is emitting some sort of gas that hurts everyone which is unfortunate.
scully fell asleep on the couch of the microbiology department which was soooo <3 but then the lab scientist comes in with the plot twist...
monkey liquid reveal: it has some sort of secret bacteria... with a new base pair! which means it HAS to be some sort of extraterrestrial life!
mulder tracks down a storage unit that is filled with bodies in tanks, and he looks like a kid in a demented candy store while some crazy orchestral stuff goes on in the background. then he is chased by some people but leaps over a fence with astonishing agility.
scully realizes that the monkey liquid is actually Very Important and they meet up to explore the tanks and she says she's sorry for doubting him. "i should know by now to trust your instincts" she says, to which he replies "why, nobody else does" and they both smile and it is not emotional at all, shut up!
"you know, i've always held science as sacred. i've always put my trust in the accepted facts. and what i saw last night... for the first time in my life, i don't know what to believe" <- banger scully line
(i don't believe that this is the first time she's questioned it, though. she's been on edge the whole time, this is just the most she has been. she was thrown off by the psychic who quoted her dad, and by the alien bites in the very first episode. regardless, character development!)
((also, love that she talks about holding science as sacred while wearing a cross necklace in every scene. she's got that "raised catholic" aura about her))
gasp! just as i knew it would be, the room of tanks is now entirely empty, all cleared out except for... deep throat? he reveals that this is the place where the first alien-human hybrids were developed out of terminally ill patients, who got better, but developed superhuman strength and the ability to breathe underwater. a valid tradeoff, in many ways, and exactly what has happened to our friend who was shot and hid underwater and now gives off noxious gas. so now they have to find him before the Others do.
mulder runs back to the dead guy's house, which he seems far too comfortable entering, and finds the alien hybrid man. alien man tries to choke him out, but mulder still says "i'll protect you"
(man, i love that line. we Will be psychoanalyzing that at a later date)
but alien man is shot by an intruder, and his noxious gasses burn mulder while he's tied up. poor scully has been blowing up his cellphone, to which he mumbles "i'm a popular guy"
(always with the damn one liners while he's beaten within an inch of his life; you are popular to one individual, mister mulder, but granted she's a very special one)
deep throat says scully can get into a high containment facility and trade the alien tissue for mulder which okay. sure. why not? she guesses the mystery password and gets into the building and. well. this was my reaction:
"she's opening a mystery container and i lowkey expect a frozen head but NO IT'S AN ALIEN THINGY AUGHHHH IT'S LIKE A BABY"
gross!
only 6 minutes left in the episode at this point and i was stressed! scully's got a box full of alien, is meeting deep throat on a bridge, and refuses to hand the alien box over because. again. who tf is this guy? he gets all mad and says that she NEEDS to hand the box over because these guys that they're dealing with took some of the alien tissue and injected it in children.
and this maybe was supposed to get her to hurry up but she was just like. nah why the hell would we give them the alien back? so we can get more alien children?
to save mulder, of course! because they are the only two who can shine light on what is really going on!
(don't talk to her in such a condescending manner, deep throat, i will bite you. she has perfectly valid reservations about handing ur mysterious ass a box full of alien. but she finally does)
and then as he hands the box over to the mystery people HE IS IMMEDIATELY SHOT! i gasped so hard here i actually hurt my mouth which is still recovering from surgery and so all of us had a bad time around this point. they do toss mulder from the back of a car, though, and deep throat's dying words are to "trust no one"
(so is it really mulder that we have back? if we can trust no one, does that mean someone has hacked into mulder? and scully doesn't know that? that's what i'm guessing here. sort of a winter soldier-ish situation)
13 days later, mulder calls scully in the middle of the night and says the fbi is shutting down the x files and they're being reassigned, but he won't give up, he can't give up. he says someone named "skinner" made this decision. i am unfamiliar with this individual but have a feeling we will become acquainted.
the season ends with the alien being placed in a mysterious room. to this i wrote the following:
"alien baby in formaldehyde in an archive i would kill to get my hands on it let me see it let me see it let me see it NOW"
(i bet they also have JFK's brain in that archive!)
so what a whirlwind of an episode! we certainly can't trust anyone moving forward, but does that apply to the trust between mulder and scully themselves? what will they do now that the x files have been shut down? somehow i have a feeling they will come back, a sort of hunch to do with the 10 more seasons of this show.
will they meet up for coffee during their new assignments? who is skinner? so much awaits us on the other side of this season, but i still need to process all i've seen so far!
#very rapid fire episode#i tried my best to write down my reactions to all of the things but they were going so fast i got bogged down a bit at certain points#regardless. scully do NOT pet the monkeys. mulder stop breaking into people's houses.#how they have managed to live so long is a bigger mystery than aliens or ghosts#anyway! i will update my thoughts later on the whole of s1#maybe a lore reveal compilation and then a fave moments compilation or some mix of it#i'm not really in any sort of rush <3#juni's x files liveblog#the x files#txf
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#this is an unhumble post#but it’s wild how there was a pt that needed a iv to start a heparin drip and no one was able to insert an iv#not even the iv team or rapid response#but i got not one but 2 in!!!#uh so satisfying man#crazy how i used to be nervous to even try but now i’m a pro#😗#they called me all the way from another unit to ask me#i love putting in ivs#delete later
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Talking a little bit about 'boycotting Eurovision' under Keep Reading, feel free to scroll down if is not what you want to see.
The most used argument on the matter of banning Israel from Eurovision is the fact that Russia got banned from Eurovision, which is the worst argument anyone could bring.
Kindly reminder that Russia didn't get banned because of the war with Ukraine. Russia got banned because many countries has threatened to withdraw from the competition. Sadly, that's a big difference.
Yes, the countries has threatened to withdraw because they support Ukraine and see Russia as the party in the wrong. That was their reason. EBU's reason for banning Russian was because those countries threatened to withdraw, not because the war was bad and Russia must be stopped.
This situation isn't the same. Why? Because many countries support Israel in their genocide. Because this time around Palestine is the party in the wrong. Because we're taught to believe that Israel isn't in the wrong here.**
Boycotting Eurovision won't work. There are people out there who don't know the truth and want to watch Eurovision. There are people out there who don't care and will watch Eurovision regardless of the situation. There are people out there who, despite having the facts, still don't see Israel as the bad guy in this situation and will watch Eurovision. Sadly, boycotting won't work unless everyone does it.
The only way Israel will get banned, in my opinion, is by going through the same thing as Russia. If other countries threatened to withdraw- and not any countries, but the ones investing the most in Eurovision, then yes. That will get Israel banned.
Otherwise? The only thing we do is hurt artists that don't deserve it. Artists who use Eurovision as a way to get more exposure and experience. Artists who deserve to be heard.
Don't vote for Israel's entry. Don't stream their song either. Heck, turn off the TV when is their turn to perform.
**This whole situation (the war, not Eurovision) isn't only black and white. Civilians die daily because of this, all of them from both sides. Innocent people who has no fault. Let's not forget that
#Honestly I'm tired of the whole 'Russia got banned Israel should be banned too' speech because is truly bullshit#It has nothing to do with the war per se. It was because countries were unwilling to participate in support for Ukraine#If the whole situation was truly political then other countries wouldn't be able to participate either#Is it fair? No. But that's the situation#Alas Eurovision exist so we forget about the bad in the world for a bit and be more united. Have some fun. Stuff like that#I'm going to get so much hate over this omg. But this is just my opinion/point of view on the matter#Sadly this whole situation isn't even about helping the innocent put in danger by this situation. Is about hate like everything else#My wording is so shitty but people on the internet don't understand shit unless I call 'X bad Y good' so we go with that#eurovision 2024#Also another reminder that THE WHOLE AUDIENCE chanted 'Cha Cha Cha' during eurovision 2023 and were rotting for Finland to win just to lose#Many entries got fucked up by the jury votes too. Our opinion doesn't matter as much as some of you might think lol#Jury votes GOT CHANGED during another eurovision under shitty reasons (I can't remember which year but there were 5 or 6 countries who got#their votes changed). Eurovision has never been fair#We always get annoyed over it and trash talk it then watch it the next year#Also this is not the same as boycotting brands and shit like that who support Israel. No money go from Eurovision to Israel.#This competition as far as I am aware (please correct me if I'm wrong) doesn't support Israel in any way#Be it financially or by donating arms or any other way#Their only fault is for allowing Israel to participate. That's all#Weapons* don't ask me why I said arms instead sorry#i'm tired lol#Fair warning I won't answer any replies to this post
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By Ahmad Ibsais, First generation Palestinian American and law student.
I do not blame Benjamin Netanyahu. I do not blame the Israeli prime minister for what is happening to my people. I do not blame him today, as Israeli bombs destroy every corner of Gaza, and children die under the rubble. I did not blame him back in 2013, when I had to watch the slaughter of my people in Gaza on the evening news, either.
My mother did not blame him when snipers perched on rooftops shot at her as she tried to make her way to work in the West Bank. My grandfather, God rest his soul, did not blame him as he died without ever returning to the land settlers stole from him in the 1980s, either.
For me, for my family, for my people, what we are witnessing in Palestine today is not “Netanyahu’s war”. It is not his occupation. He is nothing but another cog in the relentless war machine that is Israel.
Yet if you were to ask senators Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren, the supposed champions of Palestinian rights and progressive humanitarianism in the United States, everything that has happened to us in the past 75 years, and everything that is happening to us today, can be blamed on one man, and one man alone: Netanyahu.
Sanders insistently calls the ongoing Israeli assault on Gaza “Netanyahu’s war”, and demands that the US “not give Netanyahu another nickel”. Meanwhile, Warren denounces “Netanyahu’s failed leadership” as she calls for a ceasefire.
For these progressive senators, the cause of all the pain and suffering in Palestine is clear: a far-right, hawkish prime minister hell-bent on continuing a conflict that keeps him in power.
Sure, Netanyahu is evil. Sure, he committed countless crimes against Palestinians and against humanity, throughout his long career. Sure, he is continuing to fuel the carnage in Gaza today in part for his own political survival. And he should be held accountable for everything he has said and done that caused harm and pain to my people. But the racism, extremism and genocidal intent that is on display in Gaza and across the occupied Palestinian territory today cannot and should not be blamed on Netanyahu alone.
Blaming Israel’s blatant human rights abuses, disregard for international law, and open celebration of war crimes on Netanyahu alone is nothing but a coping mechanism for liberals like Sanders and Warren.
By blaming Netanyahu for the suffering and oppression of the Palestinian people, past and present, they keep alive the lie that Israel was built on progressive ideals, rather than ethnic cleansing.
By blaming Netanyahu, they whitewash their seemingly unconditional support for a state blatantly committing war crimes and crimes against humanity.
By blaming Netanyahu, and casting Israel as a progressive, well-meaning state that would respect international humanitarian law but is currently taken over by a bad leader, they are absolving themselves – and the US at large – of complicity in Israel’s many war crimes.
. . . continues on Al Jazeera (7 Mar 2024)
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CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara
☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.
☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader
☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing
☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."
"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.
"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."
"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.
"Miguel!"
And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.
His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.
Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.
He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.
"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.
Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.
You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.
"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"
Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.
"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."
"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."
You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."
Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."
"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.
"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."
He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.
"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."
Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."
With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.
But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.
#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ doll's fics#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#spider-man#spiderman#across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse spoilers#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman x reader#spider-man x reader#spiderman 2099#spider-man 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider-man 2099 x reader#oscar isaac#oscar isaac x reader
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could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her
tysm for requesting, 1k
Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence.
You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign.
You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it.
Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup.
What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed.
Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.
She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no.
What if you're forcing yourself on him?
You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it.
Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks.
"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.
Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside.
"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap.
The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said.
Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal.
"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks.
"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says.
"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?"
"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done."
"Don't rush it for my sake."
Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should."
Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.
You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else.
His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder.
"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"
You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it.
"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down.
"What?"
"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea."
"What's not a good idea?"
You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth.
"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield.
"I don't want to torture you," you say.
Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection.
Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist."
You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask.
He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes.
"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone.
Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty.
And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things.
"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?"
You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".
priorities
this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3
the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.
"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."
aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"
you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."
"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"
"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."
aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.
"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"
as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.
he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.
another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.
but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.
aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.
but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.
and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.
"go ahead, say it."
your remark regained his attention, "say what?"
"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."
"kiss me."
your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"
"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."
you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.
once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.
you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"
but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.
"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.
"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.
"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.
"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."
you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."
due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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I Don't Share - Jeon Jungkook
Synopsis: Jungkook was the one that proposed you should be friends with benefits. You both were single and had desires. Falling in love wasn't a part of the plan though.
Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook x Back up Dancer!fem reader
Genre: Smuttttt! Jealous, posessive Jungkook, friends with benefits - Minors DNI
Contains: public sex, mentions of eating out (f. receiving), light spanking (f. receiving), no protection vaginal sex, slight degradation, creampie, hair pulling
Word Count: 2.6k
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You were given the opportunity of a lifetime. What started as a way to kill time during the pandemic quickly turned into you flying to South Korea to join BTS in their rehearsals for their Permission To Dance shows. A little over a year later, you were in rehearsals again for Jungkook's solo promotions with the release of his debut album, Golden. You didn't think your life could get better than this.
Never before would you think that your dance studio closing to meet shutdown requirements would grant you the opportunity of a lifetime. Or that you would meet the guy of your dreams.
Jungkook was around your age, so it was easy for you two to get along. You often would spend late nights going over and over the dance routine for performances and the filming of upcoming music videos. His manager would often ask if he wanted a ride home, but Jungkook would always come up with an excuse.
"No, I'm ok. I want to make sure my hyungs are proud of me when they can finally see this!" Which often made the staff smile that he wanted to make his members proud.
Another one often was along the lines of - "No, thank you though. I am just stuck on this one part of the choreography and I think I'm finally getting it down. I will call security to make sure I get home." He promised every single time to use the resources at the company, but he never did.
He always opted to take Uber rides with you. At first, it was because Jungkook liked being able to talk to someone around his age. He had a solid group of friends, but you were new. Coming from the United States, he wanted to know what it was like to be a 20-something-year-old making it work.
The two of you often shared after practices drinks and meals. "You know, we have to nourish our bodies well. Jin-hyung taught me that well."
Quickly though, his hunger turned into something else. Getting to know you, getting to watch how your hips moved with ease, he began to grow hungry for your pussy. Jungkook was a very competitive guy, and he was determined to be the best at fucking you until you see the stars. He wanted to make you cum and scream until you forgot your name, until you questioned your ability to walk after.
Meals quickly turned into eating you out at your apartment. To be fair, it was his favorite meal of the day. He loved getting down on his knees for you, spreading them wide, and exposing you to him. Only or him. He often liked to blow cool air on your pussy to watch you squirm underneath his touch.
Jungkook thrived on knowing the reaction he could pull out of you. He liked knowing you whimpered and begged for him to lick your pussy, to suck on your clit as if his life depended on it. And if you begged well, he would reward you by sliding two of his fingers into your pussy.
Dance practices weren't the only reason why he would come over. If a recording session didn't go well, you offered comfort by letting him bend you and pound into your pussy. Afterwards, you would always talk about how he was feeling but you quickly learned that Jungkook preferred letting his frustrations out physically rather than verbally at first.
There were just a few more performances left for the group. Everyone knew that Jungkook would be enlisting soon, so nobody was taking it for granted. Every dance, every member of the crew, and Jungkook himself were basically putting their all into every dance practice, dress rehearsal, and performance.
You were currently sitting criss-cross on the dance practice floor, your water bottle resting in your lap. Your thumb moved your TikTok FYP up every once in a while. There was a 30 minute break, allowing some people to go grab lunch while others were taking a minute to just relax.
"So, y/n, did you know someone here in Korea before you moved?"
There was often conversation floating among the dancers. Down time and hanging outside of practice were opportunities to get to know one another, and do a little networking. With the days narrowing down on this contract, you were beginning to consider your options. Part of you wanted to go back home, to reunite with family, but you also were having the time of your life here.
Hearing your name, you locked your phone and set it on the floor. There were a few others who joined you on the floor, in their own worlds until the current conversation started. You felt all eyes on you as the question was directed to you.
"No, I actually didn't," You laughed. A year ago, you never would have had the courage to move across the world by yourself. Being here now, you knew it was the best decision.
"So a good dancer, a risk taker, beautiful," one of the male dancers began to list.
You blushed at the compliment. One thing that has changed is your struggle to accept compliments. You knew he meant well, but it didn't stop you feeling as if your face had gotten incredibly hot.
"You've got to have a partner, right? Meet someone here in Korea? I mean, Korean men know how to treat you right," he winked.
You heard one of the female dancers scuff. She rolled her eyes at his words, shaking her head towards the two of you. "Don't listen to him. Stay away from Korean men," she warned before going back to eat her salad.
"You're just upset still about your breakup," he muttered. Quickly, that was followed by a loud smack and laughter from the other members. You watched the one male rub his tender arm, apologizing to the woman to his right. Satisfied, she nodded in acknowledgement before going back to her lunch.
The male looked back at you, smiling sheepishly. "Anyways, are you single?" He asked. "You've never met up with us after practice for a quick drink."
Yeah, I normally can't go out because I'm getting railed by Jungkook after practice.
"Maybe she has a boyfriend back home?"
Decided to speak to yourself, you laughed as a way to break the conversation. Eager eyes were on you, wanting to know more about their American colleague.
"That's my bad for not showing face after practice. I normally get tired and want to go home. Sometimes I'm even here practicing a bit more just to make sure I'm as good as you all. I mean, you guys are professionals."
The group smiled wide at your kind words. You weren't sure how you'd fit in as an outsider, especially if you weren't sure if you were going to be staying or not. At the start of this job, you placed a huge amount of pressure to do well especially as you knew that so many people would do anything to be in your position. You wanted the company to be satisfied that they chose the right person.
"Well, now that it's known that we want you here. You are coming out with us tomorrow night."
"Yes, you have to! We'll have to show you around the best parts of Seoul."
"And hopefully get you with the best guy."
"Or at least go home with the best guy."
Your cheeks turned pink again, which caused all the whole group to smile. How could life get any better?
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The sun had already set by the time you got done with practice. Most of the group had left for the evening whereas you were packing up your duffle bag with all your belongings. While you were very much looking forward to tomorrow night, you always loved a night-in to yourself.
You couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook would want to come over.
"You know, you really should be leaving here by yourself," a voice called out to you.
Startled, you looked over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning against the practice room door. Speak of the devil. You placed one hand over your chest as your racing heart began to settle, very slowly that is.
"God, you fucking scared me."
He let out a laugh before coming into the room. You only could tell how he was moving by the sound of his laughter growing louder. "Sorry, doll, I couldn't help myself," he apologized. You hummed in amusement as you had your back turned towards him, trying to get the rest of your belongings together so you could leave. Because if he was ready to go, that meant that you were to.
You felt his hand ghost over your hip. Zipping up the duffle bag, you slowly stood up straighter to feel him right behind you. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against it. You shivered from the effect and with excitement.
"You seem to really be finding your place here," he said.
His voice was very smooth. He knew the effect he had on you, how you were basically wrapped around his finger. And he used it to his advantage. You were a bit confused as to where this was coming from.
"I mean, I overheard you making plans with the other dancers. I think that's good for you." His hand gently caressed your hip, the touch light as a feather. You were almost in a trance from it all. Just feeling his body heat radiate into your back sent a wave of warmth throughout you.
"But there is one thing I do not like." You were about to look over at him, but were cut off when his grip on you tightened. He yanked you back so you could feel his boner right up against his ass. You gasped in surprise which caused him to chuckle lightly. The laugh sending shivers done your spine. "I don't like sharing, angel."
Everything happened so suddenly. One minute, you were getting your duffle bag, the next you were being pinned against the mirrors of the dance studio. Jungkook's grip was tight enough to inform you he was in charge here, but loose enough to slip out if you felt uncomfortable. Yet, his gaze locked on you told you to stay put.
His breathing was a bit rigid, sensing emotions were coursing through his body. What was on his mind? You noticed his jaw was a bit clenched, almost as if he was contemplating what he was doing or his next move.
"Let me make it clear. You are not going home with anyone else besides me. You'll always come back to me."
Oh god, he overheard your conversation earlier. It was starting to make sense.
"I'll have to remind you if that's an issue."
"Then mark me up and make me yours."
Jungkook's breathing hitched hearing you. He wasn't expecting such a response from you but it made him so damn weak. God, you were the death of him.
Not one to back down, he accepted your challenge.
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Smack.
You whimpered loudly at the feeling of Jungkook's hand meeting your left asscheek. It was like an electric jolt. A bit painful, considering he has spanked you repeatedly throughout the evening, but also pleasurable because it made you feel alive. It honestly made you feel powerful.
Jungkook had you on your hands and knees. You were at the dance studio. You knew everyone had left but the thrill of someone potentially catching the two of you turned you on.
With one hand staying on your hip, Jungkook's other hand ran up your spine gently. His touch was still a stark contrast to the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy. Each smack against your ass caused your walls to squeeze around his cock, sending the two of you into a chorus of moans.
His hips rammed into you from behind. It created a rhythmic sound of skin slapping, the two of you moaning, and how wet you were. The last sound caused your cheeks to heat up, much to Jungkook's satisfaction.
The hand on your spine gathered your hair. You were grateful you put it in a low ponytail during practice earlier. Jungkook pulled your head, causing you to hiss in response. The sweet sting of your hair being pulled made you crave more. The sudden movement also caused your eyes to become a bit glossy. Your head tilted back as you met his in the reflection of the mirror.
"Look at you," Jungkook asked. His mouth was curled into a sinister smirk. "You're crying over my cock. Is it not enough for you, hmm? Is that why you wanna go out to meet other guys?"
"No, Jungkook, fuck," he panted out. "You're all I want, all I need."
"Oh yeah? Prove it. Cum on my cock. Show me that I really am the only one that can make you feel so damn good."
If it were possible, Jungkook increased his pace. You cried out in pleasure as the intensity of his brutal thrusting caused your arms to give out. You upper half of your body rested against the cool wood floor, causing your ass to move a bit up. Jungkook groaned in appreciation for the change. He couldn't help himself. Smack.
Your mind was hazy. You couldn't comprehend anything besides Jungkook's cock filling and stretching you out. Your vision was getting blurry from the tears beginning to fall as you felt that familiar tingling, warm sensation in your stomach.
In a matter of moments, your vision went white and your toes curled. You screamed out his name. His grip on your hips could be burned into your skin. You never wanted him to stop touching you. Jungkook groaned as his thrusts got harder, determined to meet you at your high. The world around you seemed to stand still while your head was in the clouds.
After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud groan. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, which sent you into a whimpering mess at the feeling. You felt so content. He also felt content seeing some of his cum spilling out of your pussy once he began to pull out.
He swore you've never looked more beautiful. All his.
Lips were being pressed against your spine. You didn't even register that your body had sprawled out onto the wooden surface until Jungkook gently moved you. Your head rested on his chest, your back on the floor. His hand ran up and down your lower back. His other hand reached up to wipe away any of your remaining tears.
You were bringing brought down to reality. You could register the sound of you two heavy breathing, the slight tremors of your body starting to subside. With your head pressed into Jungkook's chest, you could hear his once racing heart beat begin to steady itself.
"You won't forget about me, right?"
"How could I ever forget about you?"
There was a pause. Jungkook was the type to usually have a response, or do something in response to what was said to him. Not this time.
You looked up at him, concerned as you knew something was bothering him. Unfortunately, you got confirmation when you were met with his own glossy eyes.
"Look, I know a lot is going to change over 18 months. I don't care if you stay here in Korea or you go back home. I don't like sharing, y/n, so just promise not to forget about me because I'll come back to you. Every single damn time."
"I could never forget about you, Jeon Jungkook. I'll be waiting for you, regardless of what happens next."
#jeon jungkook#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkoooook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jk#jungkook#bts jungkook#bangtan#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook bts#jeon jungkook x you#bts#bts army#atinystraynstay#kpop#fanfic#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts imagines#jk
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HIS OWN MEDICINE // t. nott
RATING: R / 3.6K WORDS
Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert
+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Your best friend, Pansy Parkinson, suggests fixing your boyfriend’s flirting problem by giving him a taste of his own medicine.
+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in v) Unprotected, spanking, top!theo, bottom!reader, fem!reader, mean dom, innocent reader?, degradation, name-calling, weird authoritative thing going on with Theo (idk), one (1) use of ‘daddy,’ mild breeding kink, flirting while in relationship, jealousy, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any!)
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
nobody - Toby Mai
- - -
“I don’t want to hear another fucking excuse, Theo!” you screamed, rage flushing your cheeks. It took everything in you not to strangle him right now.
After the third time catching him flirting with another girl, you were ready to walk again. You weren’t even sure how many times you’d broken up with him, and how many times he’d broken up with you.
But you were about to add another time.
“Please, baby, you know it’s not what you think,” he begged, trying to grab your hands. “She’s just a friend—we were just chatting.”
“Usually, you can chat with people without your hands wrapped around them! You seemed pretty fucking cozy with her!”
“Baby, come on…,” he cooed, trying to press some kisses to your fingers. Angry, you yanked your hand out of his grasp and tore out of the room. You heard the door slam behind you and ignored the gasps of shock as you shoved through a group of students moving in a unit down the hallway.
You could hardly stand that stupid man right now. If you saw his face again within the next 48 hours, you would punch him.
As you flew down the steps of the Slytherin dormitories and toward the mostly empty common room, you nearly knocked a petite woman over.
The two of you crashed into each other and grunted on impact.
“Watch where you’re going—Merlin! What are you doing down here, honey? Are you crying?”
It was Pansy, one of your best friends in the entire world. Though the tears had been pooling in your eyes since you stormed out of Theo’s dorm, her question had pushed you over the edge. An angry sob left your lips.
“Oh no! What happened?” she cried, wrapping you up in her small frame. Shamelessly, you wept into the folds of her robes. She smelled comforting, like home and daisies. You could hardly hold back the tears that poured down your cheeks.
“It’s Theo!” you gasped. “I broke up with him again!”
“Oh…again?” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “What did he do this time?”
“He was rubbing up on that stupid Gryffindor girl from last time—laughing and going on! I hate him! I never want to see him again!”
“Why do you let this keep happening?” she asked nonchalantly, patting your head soothingly.
“Me?” you scoffed. “He’s flirting with other girls!”
“Okay, but…you also keep getting back together with him,” she shrugged.
You pulled away from her and glared a bit. You knew your decision-making on the love aspect of things had never been terrific, but you couldn’t help it. Theo was so good to you (besides the flirting thing).
You had tried to rationalize it repeatedly, telling yourself he was just a friendly guy, but he never acted that way to other guys—only girls. And you’d realized your rationalization was stupid. And that he was just flirting.
“Listen,” she started again. “I get it more than anyone else. Theo’s very hard to resist—I’m just saying he’s attractive!” She quickly rushed to defend her words because, after all, though you and Theo were “broken up” right now, you’d likely be back together before the end of the week. That’s how pathetic you were.
“If you don’t want to break up with him, how about you talk about it with him,” she suggested. “You need to sit him down, get stern with him, and tell him that he’s not going to talk to these girls the way he is anymore.”
“I’ve tried that already, Pans! I practically scream in his face every time he does this shit!”
There was a moment of silence while the both of you seemed to mull the issue over.
“Well, then, how about we try something else?” Pansy said, her eyes glinting mysteriously. Your shuddering breaths paused for a moment as you looked up at her. Whatever she was planning couldn’t be good just by the look on her face.
“Er, what do you mean?” you asked, a bit of anxiety creeping up the back of your neck.
“If you can’t get him to stop in your own way…maybe it’s time to give him a taste of his own medicine.” She smirked wildly, her eyebrows rising above her bangs.
“You don’t mean—? Oh, no! No, Pansy! I’m not doing that. I can’t do that when I’ve shouted at him for doing it for so long!”
“Exactly,” she said. “You’ve asked him to stop repeatedly, but he’s not interested in discussion. He needs a threat.”
Despite the growing burning in the pit of your stomach urging you to accept her suggestion, you still felt horrible even considering it. Theo had never cheated on you; you just felt as though he was too friendly with other girls. But maybe Pansy was right. Maybe he wouldn’t understand how frustrating it was until he experienced it himself. It wasn’t like you were going to actually cheat on him. Maybe you could just talk to one of his friends and pretend to flirt. Just a little bit.
With the end of your free period growing closer, you decided you would make Theo jealous at dinner. You just had to decide who you would select to help with your antics.
***
Your eyes surveyed the Great Hall, flashing back and forth across the immense tables. Familiar faces glanced back at you in passing, their eyes aimlessly wandering as well. You couldn’t help but smirk just a bit, knowing your plans. Poor Theo had no idea what he was in for.
After weighing your options for a few minutes, you finally decided that if you really wanted to get to Theo, you needed to hit close to home—too close to home.
Your eyes locked on a familiar face you had often stared at, even before you got together with Theo. Mattheo Riddle.
A dark, brooding masterpiece of a boy. Truly, someone you’d be fawning over if you weren’t currently with Theo. But, saying that sounded like a broken record, considering how many girls and boys begged Mattheo for a second glance. You watched him closely, observing for a few moments.
His dark was clenched just a bit as he ran long fingers through his raven curls. It was entirely too much for you to watch…just looking at him had a bit of heat pooling in your stomach.
You couldn’t lie. In the few moments you’d forgotten about Theo and planned to make him jealous, the rose-colored glasses had come off, and the dark green ones had slipped over your eyes. Your chest was pounding, and it wasn’t for Theo at this very moment.
A prick of courage coursed through your veins and with a deep breath, you were moving quickly toward your target.
Enzo, Theo, and Mattheo sat at the edge of the Slytherin table closest to the Great Hall’s entrance. They gathered around each other, snacking and laughing. Mattheo sat on the table with his feet settled on the bench, Enzo sat just next to his legs on the bench, and Theo sat opposite Enzo. Maybe it was cheesy, but even Mattheo’s small rebellion of sitting on the table rather than the bench was calling your name. To not sound like every Gryffindor currently drooling over Mattheo, he really did have the perfect bad-boy vibe. He was like a sexy Muggle film.
Mattheo’s legs were spread with his elbows settled on his thighs—a dominating posture. His robe was settled over the edge of the table, and his tie was loosened, exposing a sliver of bronze chest and a singular chain dangling beneath the collar of his shirt. Merlin, this was sinful.
Theo caught your eyes and smiled brightly. He waved you over. That particular movement snagged the attention of Mattheo and Enzo—both of whom found your eyes and smiled in return. Maybe you were over-confident, but you could have sworn Mattheo had looked you slowly up and down as you approached.
Granted, you had changed up your outfit before coming to dinner. It was simple, but you were sure it’d get the job done with how it framed your figure and dipped down your chest. Your hair was styled, and Pansy had granted you her talent for makeup. You felt gorgeous, so you assumed you looked it.
Your wand was slid into the small decorative belt that came with the dress, and your hands were tightened behind your back in a sort of mock innocence. You smiled brightly, eyes only on Mattheo.
Completely ignoring Theo, you walked straight up to the two boys sitting before him. The both of them were looking you up and down now.
“Hey, Matty,” you giggled, stopping just before him. Smirking, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you between his legs, your hips bumping against his core.
“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “You’re awfully bubbly this afternoon.” His voice vibrated against your ear, sending a violent chill down your back. You tried not to let your facade fall, but damn, he was good. You couldn’t tell if he was just playing along, seriously into it, or reading your mind. Who knew? Legilimency ran in his family.
“Baby?” Theo asked gently. You could just barely hear his voice past Mattheo’s warm body. “Matty?”
His poor, confused voice made your heart sink a little bit. You immediately felt bad. But this was for his own good. He was feeling what you felt every time he pulled this shit with other girls.
“I can’t help it,” you smiled. “I was excited to see you.”
“What the fuck? What did he do to get all the attention?” Enzo joked, smiling crookedly.
“Aw, but I was excited to see you too, sweetheart,” you cooed, leaning over Mattheo’s thigh to gently touch a finger to his chin.
“I think someone’s had a bit to drink,” Theo said sternly. You finally made eye contact with him. He was fuming. You swallowed nervously but ignored his threatening gaze. You were doing this for a reason.
“I’m completely sober, Theo,” you said blankly.
“You wanna go somewhere, mama,” Mattheo whispered against your cheek, his lips brushing your jawline. His arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, his grip domineering and his scent overwhelming. Why did you want to say yes? Were you a bad person? You weren’t sure. This was a bad idea.
You giggled to avoid answering his question. Enzo’s eyebrow quirked at you before giving a glance to Theo.
“Well, I didn’t want to have to be the one to say this. But, personally, I feel that we are all close enough now to discuss these things.” Enzo nodded his head. “Have we truly ever considered the possibility of a foursome?”
Theo choked on his drink, Mattheo pretended to gag, and you gasped sharply.
“I’m just saying…it’s a valid question.”
“Enzo, shut up. Now.” Theo gripped his cup tightly, his knuckles bleeding white across his skin.
“Mattheo, take your fucking hands off of my girlfriend,” he said, turning to the man above you. “We need to fucking talk.”
His eyes never left yours as he pulled himself away from the table and walked toward the door. He didn’t even need to look back to know that you were trailing behind him with a half-defeated look on your face.
You were a bit frightened of the consequences of your actions, but you were certain that once you explained yourself, he’d be more understanding. You hoped.
Once the two of you were just past the doors of the Great Hall, Theo grasped your hand roughly, and, after being forced through a sickeningly tight tube with a loud suctioning sound, you were standing in Theo’s dormitory. You were a bit dizzy from Disapparating after not doing it for so long, but no amount of churning in your stomach could distract from the raging boy storming straight for you.
“What the fuck was that?” Theo shouted, forcing himself up against you. The pressure of his chest pushed you back up against the footboard’s bedpost. As the wood dug into your back, a gasp left your lips.
The way he looked down at you, fuming and jaw clenching, had you flushed ever so slightly. You didn’t know what it was, but his anger wasn’t pleasuring you as you thought.
An hour ago, you’d have assumed that you would feel amazing because of revenge. Not … something else.
“I was just…,” you trailed off, his eyes drilling holes through yours. Your hands wrapped around the bedpost behind you as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
His jaw ticked.
“You what?”
“I’m sorry,” you flinched at the volume of his words. “You’re always so friendly and touchy with all of your girl friends—I just wanted to make you feel the same way.”
“Feel what way?” he demanded.
“Jealous,” you whispered, embarrassed. Your eyes tore away from him and cast to the floor. Despite the confidence you’d had a few hours ago, you felt like the smallest woman in the world now.
“Jealous? You’re so pathetic,” he whispered, his voice suddenly soft and chiding. The word made a heat pool between your legs. Your lips parted in a silent gasp. You refused to look at him.
“Instead of just working through our argument earlier like adults, you thought it’d be a good idea to throw yourself on my friends to get a reaction out of me?”
“Well, when you say it like that—”
“Was it Pansy?”
“What?”
He sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. “Did Pansy Parkinson put this stupid idea into your head?”
You looked down. You were too embarrassed to answer, but he knew. He scoffed and placed a surprisingly gentle finger beneath your chin. He tilted you up to look at him. His eyes were softer now.
“I know that Pansy is a bad influence on you, but you still have to be taught a lesson,” he murmured, his eyes ranging from soft and caring to lustful and mean.
“But, I–”
“Shut up,” he interrupted, voice stern as steel. “Don’t talk anymore, okay?”
Your lips snapped shut and, falling into an embarrassingly well-rehearsed routine, you nodded and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. However, he had no issue doing so. His crystalline eyes never left your face except for one agonizing second when he dragged them down the length of your body.
You then forgot all of your previous endeavors and realized that Theo was going to have his way with you. He wasn’t more understanding, nor had you gotten your revenge. But none of that mattered right now. The heat pooling between your thighs had blurred all possible thoughts that might pass across your mind. The only thing you could see, smell, taste, hear, feel was Theo, Theo, Theo. You sucked in a shaky breath.
His fingers slid around your upper arms, pulling you closer to him. The way he touched you was gentle and slow—a precursor for the aggression that was to come.
“Turn around and bend over,” he whispered. His voice was nothing less than demanding. You couldn’t help but comply as if everything depended on your ability to follow his directions. Which, at this moment, it felt that way.
You turned and laid your torso across the length of his bed, tucking your arms beneath your chest. Your cheek lay against the satin comforter as your breath exited your body in short, shuddering pants.
“You deserve this,” he murmured. “You know you do.” His hands—so gentle—pushed themselves beneath the hem of your skirt. Your eyes clenched shut as your corse pulsated in time with your rapid heartbeat.
The tips of his fingers caressed the curvature of your bare hips. With your intent to seduce, you’d figured you better dress the part as well as act it. For exactly that reason, you’d worn no bottoms beneath the tight dress. You could hear Theo inhale deeply as a single thumb slid over wettened, hot folds. You gasped sharply at the sensation.
“You wanted this,” he growled. Honestly, you hadn’t considered this as one of the outcomes of your little venture, but you wouldn’t deny what you currently wanted. With a whimper, you nodded your head and pushed your hips back against him.
A small grunt left his lips as your ass came into contact with his core, already engorged and pulsing, just as you were. You concealed a smirk. Perhaps it was the false persona you had put on this evening, but your confidence shone through the room like a lightbulb.
“Very well,” he sighed. “You’ll get exactly what you wanted, you pathetic slut. The only way you can get what you want is to show your ass in front of all my friends, huh? You couldn’t just fucking ask?” With each rhetorical question, he tore another piece of clothing from himself. His anger radiated off of him.
“My advice, love?” He rolled the fabric of your dress over your ass, allowing the cool air to bite at your core. “Next time…just fucking ask me to ruin this perfect cunt.” He pushed into you with a relieved groan.
The lack of any preparation had you biting into his comforter. Perhaps no foreplay was your punishment, but he felt too good for you to complain about it.
His hands gripped your hips like a vice as he pulled you back onto him at a sickening pace. He hit every spot inside of you with a bruising force, so hard that your face slid back and forth across his slick comforter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep a hold on the surface. Theo’s rage-filled thrusts knocked you loose from any grip you gained on his sheets like it was nothing.
“If you ever pull something like that again, I swear to Merlin, I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who touches you,” he breathed through ragged thrusts. “I don’t care if it’s Mattheo or Enzo or some random guy—I’ll fucking kill him.”
His words pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Shamelessly, you moaned his name as if it were the last thing you’d ever say. He looked like a god behind you with his hair stuck to his forehead and his lips parted, his sweat circled the air, his name tasted perfect in your mouth, his moans were glorious, and he felt perfect inside you. Again, Theo was all you could see, smell, taste, hear, and feel.
“Yeah, baby? Does that feel good?” he whispered to you, taunting you endlessly. “Who fucks you like this, huh?”
“You,” you whined, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I couldn’t hear you, baby. It sounded like you said Enzo. Was that right?” he cruelly teased you. His hand came down hard across the brunt of your ass cheek. “That’s what you fucking get. Now, who fucks you like this?”
“You!” you tried again, desperate to feel your release.
“Mattheo? Oh, you’re really trying me today!” he shouted, bringing his hand down against you again. You yelped beneath the bite of his hand. You could practically already see the handprint forming across your skin.
Theo suddenly grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you against his body. Your back was pressed to his front, and his cock was hitting a devastating angle inside of you.
“Who fucks you like this, bitch?”
“You, Theo! Fuck, nobody makes me feel like this! Theo, Theo, Theo…,” your voice trailed off pathetically as he pounded into you with a force like no other. You wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.
One of his hands was wrapped around your stomach while the other remained tightly curled in your hair as he fucked up into you relentlessly. The coil in your stomach that only seemed to build when Theo handled you the way he did began to wind up in your stomach. Each thrust from the man behind you had it curling tighter and tighter, threatening to combust at any moment.
“Fuck, Theo, I’m gonna—”
“Yeah, baby? You’re gonna cum for me? Cum for me, baby…cum on my cock, sweetheart. Let me fill you up, darling. Please, baby, let me cum inside you. Make me a daddy, baby.”
And with those words, you were cumming against him harder than you ever had before. Honey spilled from you and coated his lower stomach and your thighs. The tension from your entire body locking up had Theo’s legs beginning to shake. Whispers of strained “fuck, fuck, fuck”s resonated throughout the room as Theo fucked himself through his orgasm. Just before you could protest at the overstimulation, he came into you, filling you up just as he had promised.
The feeling of every inch of his arousal overflowing from your core nearly made you needy all over again. You might've asked him for a round two if not for the overwhelming exhaustion that had just flooded your body.
Between the rapid pace he’d set and the abuse you’d taken from behind, the two of you were laid out. Both of you collapsed against his bed, chests rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat dripping, eyes fluttering closed. You were sure you’d pass away if you attempted to move, so you laid completely still.
“How was that?” Theo asked, chuckling breathlessly. You refrained from rolling your eyes at his awkwardly-timed question.
“It was really good, you dummy,” you laughed, wiping a bit of sweat from your hairline.
“Good,” he whispered, rolling over to face you. “Because if you ever pull anything like that again, I’ll kill the man who touched you then I’ll fuck you in front of him.”
Merlin.
- - -
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DAD SIMON AND THE 141 VISITING TO CHECK THE KID OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME PLAPSSLSLSPSLSLSK AND HE GETS SO JEALOUS WHEN OTHERS HOLD HIS SWEET BABY PATOOTIE PRINCesss
↳ no warnings | f!reader | 1.6k
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Anon, I may have strayed from your original thoughts a little. I hold my hands up. At this point, he has been back and had time with her already this is just 141 meeting her. And it's very? Thought-provoking? Possibly not how you imagined? Alas, voila.
Having a newborn allowed for zero quiet. Nothing of the sort was even imagined, sleep was out the window and tiredness was the new trend. It became tougher when Simon had to go back to work, leaving you behind with a long apology and his credit card. What was the card for? You weren’t sure, but made sure it was used like fuck. £17.32 on McDonald’s delivery didn’t seem as painful with his money.
And that’s exactly what you were doing, happily. Baby sleeping on your almost bare chest with a haul of food around you in bed. It was only seven but you had no reason to be up and about, and the reality tv wasn’t going to catch up on itself.
In fact, you were about to reach the episode climax of Love Island. Someone had been mugged off and the producers were keen on making a drama of it, issuing a re-coupling. But. Right before you could skip the credits and fast-track to the next episode, the bedroom door swung open and you screamed. Waking your daughter who naturally began to cry.
"Fucking hell." You frowned at Simon who had quickly shut the door behind him upon seeing you. He wasn't due back till tomorrow. "Scared me.” The scold in your voice was one he ignored, picking up a milk-stained shirt from the floor.
“Put something on, christ.” His voice gruff as he shrugged his jacket off and reached for another t-shirt after wearily tossing the other back to the floor, holding it out. “What, Me?” Black-painted eyes narrowed at you upon holding his child out to him, asking for a trade.
“No. The other person in the room.” You deadpanned, widening your eyes in silent effort for him to take her. “Yes, you.” He did as told, looking down at his daughter blankly. “What’s the rush anyway.”
Although, your question was answered by a loud echo of laughs from downstairs. “All of them?” In reference to the only three men it could be.
“I didn’t agree.” He met your eyes, holding the baby back out to you for the brief second you passed him. Sauntering out to the hallway before he had called your name stiffly, eyes pleading relief of the absolute fucking threat that was his baby. “Take her.”
“You’re fine.” You waved a hand, walking downstairs with him reluctantly following.
It was a shame really, you couldn’t help but snort at the way he held her so high up his chest. “Don’t let Johnny hog her.” Was the only instruction you gave, wandering through to the kitchen where his unit were stood.
“Alright?” The Scot rubbed your shoulder in greeting, “Solid birth n’ all that?” His brows furrowed in genuine care although the question was worded oddly.
“Solid. Johnny.”
He tsked, clutching a hand to his opposite bicep. “Tends to be like that, ae.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He laughed although his eyes fell from yours to over your shoulder. Price held his hand on your back in acknowledgment, his eyes softening with a nod your way. “Christ.” He muttered at the sight in Simon’s arms, taking his hand back and removing his hat. “Congratulations.”
Gaz wrapped an arm around you, leaning his head atop of yours on his shoulder. “It’s mad.” He said more to himself than anyone else, catching eyes with Soap who for once was lost on what to say.
Simon’s eyes were stuck on the baby in his arms, refusing to look up and see the group reaction. Her small hand reached upward, and his finger met her halfway, face unchanged as she wrapped her hand around it. No one said or did anything, only Price who took a step forward to pat the lieutenant's shoulder. The moment was tender, and understood by everyone as such a thing even by Johnny who crossed his arms over his chest and contrastingly pout his bottom lip out to you. “You wanna hold her?” You spoke to him, crossing the space to Simon who had finally looked up.
“Go on, then.” He pushed his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the kitchen chair. Simon’s eyes met Soap’s, a look of trust, threat and relief spread across his face when you had prompted him to hand her over. “Just a wee thing, ae?” He comfortably took her from Ghost, gently bouncing her and smiling when she had cooed.
“Tiny.” Gaz added, looking to Simon who shifted in his spot - looking around the room, finding comfort in anything other than the tiny being. He was still so unsure of himself. Arms crossed together over his chest in anxious replacement of the tac vest he would usually slot his thumbs into. “Fresh to the world.”
“Five weeks old.” You looked at Gaz. “Brand. New.”
He shook his head at the idea of a baby, looking to Price who was subtly enough fixated on his lieutenant. “How’re you doing, Simon?” He asked firmly, in a tone Simon wouldn’t ignore or sigh at, one he recognised as important. A tone of order.
“Fine.” He kept it brief, locking eyes with Price who nodded slowly.
It was hard to read Simon. Period. Even after years being with him, you still couldn’t predict the way he was feeling or what he was going to say about a situation. He distanced himself from his daughter the first few days, intentionally waiting until you woke to sort her out instead of facing himself and his past in the form of the harmless baby.
His allowed paternity leave wasn’t granted extension of more than a week, therefore he left you. And admittedly, although he wouldn’t ever say it, he was glad to get some time away. It had only been a week and he was already itching to be alone, no words you spoke could comfort him. Only the mindless living of a deployment. His desired remedy.
Ghost was dead silent that whole mission. The unit knew why, although they were tightly instructed by Price to keep their mouths shut. Not to even ask about the kid. So they didn’t, not until today, when it was brought up by the man himself. “Ask about the kid, then.” He said gruffly, unlacing his boots and stomping his feet wide of each other, eyes darting between the three men opposite him.
“She alright, yeah?” Soap asked, receiving a dull nod.
“We’d love to meet her sometime.” Price continued cautiously, looking to Simon who then nodded, eyes dropping to his boots. There was a moment of silence before he had spoken up in answer to Price, elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together and rubbing against his mouth. “You don’t live too far from base do you?”
“An hour.” He cleared his throat, “I live an hour away.”
“We could stop by,” Price was the one to suggest it, dipping to reach a bag behind Soap’s drawer. “This is, from, us.” He rubbed the back of his neck, holding the small gift bag out to Ghost who only looked up at it.
“I’m going home tonight.” He said matter of factly. “Just.” A sigh. “Tail me and hand it in to her, she’ll appreciate it better than I will.” Soap smirked at Simon’s falsified reluctance, a hidden invite into his lieutenant's domestic life was on the table and of course he jumped at it.
And you? You knew Simon had given a skeleton of an invite. It was obvious.
So now, as your daughter had been passed to Price from Gaz, it felt oddly comforting to you. For Simon, you couldn’t tell as much from the way he was constantly sighing and moving in his spot - obviously discomforted by the idea of his unit being in such an intimate space of his but it was blown over by the end of the short visit. “She’s going to be tall.” Price tilted his head at the baby, thumb swiping across her small arm.
“Oh aye.” Johnny nodded, nudging Simon who stared down at her. “Think she’ll have your eyes?” His efforts granted a shrug from the man next to him.
“The colour keeps changing, but,” You caressed her head in Price’s arms, “They are his shape.” The tone of your voice warming Simon enough for the thought of a smile, the side of his lip curling just enough.
Gaz nodded to a bag Soap had left on the counter, “There’s some stuff. We didn’t get much time.” He reached for it, holding it out to you. The purpose of the trip.
“And there’s a card with some money.” Johnny added, “See yous’ round the New Year for the wee yin.” The bag had generic baby gifts inside, although it swelled your heart to think of three large military men shopping around for each thing inside
And the card was a treasure in itself, one you would certainly keep, handing it to Simon so you could hug Gaz and Soap, receiving a kiss to your cheek from Price after taking the baby back. “Maybe see you lot closer to Christmas?” You asked, bouncing your daughter when she had begun to stir.
“Course.” Price nodded to Simon, following the other two out the door. You heard them talking about the baby from the threshold, watching as they piled into their respective cars and pulled off with waves and a single salute from Soap. Because, Soap.
Simon sighed once the door was shut, looking down at you. There was something between warmth and sympathy in his eyes, wrapping an arm around the back of your neck and kissing your temple. “You putting this up?” He mumbled, holding out the card before pressing his thumb and pointer finger together against his daughter’s tiny feet in sudden affection.
“On the mantel for now, probably.” You rubbed his arm, following him through to the living room.
There was new lightheartedness around him after they had left. Like having his unit meeting his daughter was somehow a weight that had finally been shrugged off after the fact. Even prodding a few more kisses than you would usually receive from him. His brain worked in mysterious ways, although you were not complaining.
Not now anyway.
simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugadu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x f!reader#ghost mw2#mw2 fanfic#mw2 x reader#call of duty mwii#cod mwii#cod mw2 x reader#cod mw fanfiction#cod mw2#dad!simon
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MOVED TO @seratopia
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit
modern au!
an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office
Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks.
You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway.
With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you.
The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator...
Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk.
She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer.
Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such.
But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“
Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined.
“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different.
“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her.
You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment.
“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)
“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“
She holds up a single manicured finger.
“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“
Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face.
Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails.
And finally, he answers.
“Hm? You need something, honey?“
“Miguel.“
Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat.
“What is it, sweetie?“
You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”
Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning.
“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“
“Thank you, Miguel.“
The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder.
Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary.
But, you don’t.
“Ah, Miguel, this p-“
“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“
The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile.
“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms.
“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting.
“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“
Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk.
“Tiffany.“
Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever.
“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“
“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“
“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“
Miguel: 1
Tiffany: 0
Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth.
“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“
Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp.
Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.
“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest.
“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“
Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead.
“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief.
“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla.
“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“
“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”
“No. You called Lyla annoying.”
these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!
- cosmosis <333
© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara spider man#spider man#spiderman#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#lyla#atsv lyla#lyla across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#atsv#x reader#reader insert#fluff#romance#cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
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hi! i'm not sure if ur taking fic request atm, but if ever u r, can i ask for a fic where f!reader also works for the bau, she is hotch's daughter, and she is dating spencer reid? 🥹 thank uuuuu
TELL ME • S. REID X READER
fem reader; reader is jack's older sister (age gap unspecified but assumed around spencer's age, hotch had her young or adopted); hotch is reader's father; established relationship; mentions of child abduction (unspecific, part of a case); bau reader; spencer is clingy; ~800 words
Working for your dad could be complicated.
Your emotions couldn’t ever fully be separated from the work, and he was known to get over protective and lose subjectiveness when you were in danger, or when he felt you were being mistreated. He’d always been protective of you and Jack — though, and, to be fair, you were protective of Jack, too. Like most were of their younger brother.
And you also got frustrated or worried about him easily. It was only natural, the way you both acted, despite your professionalism.
But most difficult was your current situation — you were dating a coworker (on your own team, no less), and were trying to figure out how to fill out the fraternization papers without your dad tearing Spencer apart limb by limb for dating his little girl.
“I don’t see why we can’t turn it in today,” Spencer speaks from where his chin rests on your shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he hugs you. You hum and continue rolling his omelet. “He’ll find out one way or another,”
“Baby,” you start, interrupted by the toast popping up with a ding. “I think he’s going to kill you if he finds out through official channels and not a ‘meet my dad’ dinner.”
“But I’ve met him,” Spencer's voice is whiny and you’re so endeared by him you can’t help but to smile. “He’s my boss. And my friend.”
“Yeah, and he’s my dad before that. Trust me. We need to tell him as my father before he finds out as Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner,”
Spencer sighs. You know he wants it turned in so there’s no potential push back from Quantico if he’s caught stealing a kiss (as has almost happened many times now, like the time he’d kissed you by the coffee in LAPD’s station and had to pretend he stumbled into you while grabbing something and that his face was only red from embarrassment — which it was, but not for the reason he told the chief), and so he can cuddle you on the plane, or have casual intimacy in down time, or a kiss for good luck before raids and arrests.
He’s fond of having his hands on you, soaking in your presence like a plant in the sun. This is proven to you even more as he refuses to let go of you while you plate breakfast, nuzzling closer to you as you struggle with the plates.
“A little help, Spence, please,” you jerk your head towards the coffee mugs. He heaves a long and suffering sigh before releasing you and grabbing them, placing them on the table. “Thank you, my love,”
He stares at you quietly. “Kiss?”
You beam at him and kiss him sweetly before sitting down. He kisses the top of your head before settling in his chair.
“Thank you for cooking,”
“You know I love doing it, Spence,”
“And I will always thank you! I don’t want to ever stop being grateful for all you do.”
You smile fondly and take a sip of your coffee. The two of you fall into comfortable silence until a phone rings — the tone set for a call from work. You sigh and pick it up, since Spencer was in the middle of a bite of his omelet.
“Hello?”
There’s a pause on the other end. “__? Why are you answering Spencer’s phone?”
Your dad. “Um,” you swallow. “We went to this event together yesterday and the weather was too bad for him to go home so he stayed at mine?” Your voice pitches up, and you know it’s a terrible lie. The weather was great. And you’re not a very good liar, especially not when it was to him. “What’s going on?”
He sighs, long and suffering. “We’ve got a case, a child abduction. We’re in the first two hours. Get over here as soon as possible with a go bag.” A beat. “And don’t lie to me. When were you planning on telling me?”
“Soon. Over dinner.” Your face falls and Spencer looks at you, wide-eyed. “Spencer wanted to just fill out the paperwork but I thought you’d want to be told like any dad…”
He hums. “You’re right. You still owe me that dinner, but, right now, a little boy needs our help. Get here. Quickly.”
The call ends.
“Honey?” Spencer asks softly, holding your hand.
You shake your head, clearing it. “We have a child abduction. Go get our stuff ready while I clean?” He nods, and as he’s getting to the bedroom you call and say “we’re still doing dinner with my dad! But he does know.”
i am always taking requests unless my pinned says otherwise <3 just for future reference, i will update that so don't worry that you're sending when i'm not accepting! if i don't update the request section, that's on me
also i dont know how i feel abt this but it's written 👍🤠
#my works#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fluff#requested
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SHAAN E HIND
mermaidsophie
Sophie