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anika-ann · 1 year

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No Pressure - Pt.2 (S.R.)

Type: two-shot, early relationship, canon-ish (see A/N); Part 1

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader (GG x Sparkles) Word count: 12,5k

Summary:

Having gotten a sound advice from a friend, you and Steve try to work things out. And maybe, it will end up with you two working out; because Steve Rogers does nothing by halves - less so with you.

Warnings: 18+ for some serious FILTH, SMUT, unprotected piv, brief mention of a jerk from Sparkles’ past, fluff, language

A/N: Standalone or a two-shot following Love on the Brain series and its oneshots - you might profit from checking the masterlist for characters; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

A/N: 6,8k of fluff done ✅it’s time for 12k of healthy communication and NSFW if you wanna spli the reading, look for “let alone such small bump on the road” - underlined

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.”

- E.E. Cummings

Having decided to spend the night at a hotel instead of rushing back to New York – no matter how fast the Quinjet could get – you said your goodbyes around one a.m., retreating to your room. Steve reserved a classy and slightly overpriced hotel for you taste, but as you walked through the surprisingly still lively lobby, you understood his choice. Even as it was Captain America with you on his arm walking by, no one blinked an eye – or didn’t approach you at least.

Hand in hand, you got into the elevator and you found yourself truly grateful for the privacy. Relaxed, you leaned your head onto Steve’s shoulder, catching his soft smile in the mirror. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“I had a really good time tonight, Sparkles. Thank you for taking me… all of us,” he muttered, causing you to grin up at him.

You couldn’t but agree with his sentiment – you had the best time too, seeing your two lives merge together effortlessly, with banter and laughs having left you tipsier than the little alcohol you had drunk. The merry atmosphere of the evening had now turned into a serene one, a slightly hazy dream of sorts – but the lightness of your heart remained.

Standing to your tiptoes, you pecked Steve’s lips chastely, hand on his shoulder for balance.

“My pleasure. Thank you for coming with me.”

Face to face, he lifted your joined hands, caressing your cheek with the back of his, eyes bright and proud.

“Always.”

You didn’t get the chance to process the butterflies in your stomach at his simple declaration as the door behind your back slid open, revealing the corridor leading to your room. Steve simply beckoned with his chin, lightly tugging at your hand and walking you out.

Leave to it Steve Rogers he’d only release that hand to hold the door open for you; you exaggerated the ‘why thank you, Mr.Rogers’ as you made a little curtsey and only then stepped in, taking a brief moment to scan the room as you kicked off your shoes.

A queen-sized bed with burgundy and cream cushions dominated the room, complemented by dark-wood closet with matching nightstands. Cream-coloured sofa aligned with the silvery walls; it almost faced, a little absurdly, the bathroom door, as if the guests could choose whether to watch the TV or hypnotize the door until it opened. Peeking behind the corner, you were welcomed by large and no-doubt one-way window replacing one of the walls, offering the view of city lights. Your overnight bags Steve had had brought up there sat by a drawer, right under non-descript modern art painting.

Despite the strictly hotel-like look of the room big enough to mimic a junior suite, you could still sense an air of home; but perhaps that was only the person you’d share the space with.

The door clicked shut with a barely-there noise, causing you to look over your shoulder with an automatic smile – one that turned curious when you found Steve still by the door, posture stiff and face focused. It seemed he had observed your every step, every little movement and as you spun on your heels to face him fully, his gaze flickered down for barely a second. And the moment he met your eyes again, your throat went a little dry, your brain registering something new in the way he was looking at you.

“What?” you asked awkwardly, pulse thundering so loud in your ears that had Steve decided to answer, you probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

Luckily, he was a man of action more often than not; and the new emotion you deciphered in his blown pupils was pure fire, speaking louder than words.

In three long strides, he was on you, hand cradling your jaw, mouth latching onto yours just as his arm wrapped around your waist. That was good thinking – the force with which his body had slammed into yours, the way he knocked all air from your lungs and had your head spin, would have probably had you lose your balance. Not to mention the same fire you had seen in his gaze licking at your insides, having your body melt into his.

But he got your back. Always.

He never released the firm grip around your middle as his tongue easily gained access into your mouth, tasting every whimper he elicited from you as he walked you backwards to the couch, hard muscle of his thighs brushing against yours with every step, his semi-hard bulge pressing just above your pubic bone.

A breathless sound of his name escaped you as he freed your lips in favour of breathing, mouth never leaving your skin, trailing along your jaw.

Had you had the mental capacity, you’d have wondered whether his supersoldier ears had heard your conversation with JJ – but the fleeting thought flew out of the window the moment the world spun and you found yourself falling, Steve’s strong hands catching you, his thighs wedged between yours, having you naturally straddle him as he planted himself on the couch.

You had no damn idea what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to question it.

The way his lips dominated yours had you tingle all over down to your fingertips, a crushing wave of heat stirring in your belly and flushing your core when his hips bucked just an inch up, his jeans-clad thighs meeting your own unwitting movements. Your hands found purchase of his shoulder and his hair, fingers sinking into his carefully combed silky strands. He sighed into your mouth contentedly as you did so, fingers flexing on your nape as he pulled you even closer, chest pressed to chest. When his hand inched lower, from the small of your back to the patch of skin just above the hem of your jeans, sliding under it and squeezing over the thin fabric of your panties, you were not proud of the sound that left your lips – but Steve didn’t seem to mind, his fingers flexing in your hair just enough to make you feel it and boost your confidence, but not enough to hurt.

Crumbling his shirt in a loose fist, you panted when his lips released you and his forehead lightly bumped into yours; his frantic breaths fanned over your face, hand moving back up again, drawing gentle circles on your back. Several pecks on your mouth, soft kisses peppered on your chin, on your cheek and along your jaw. You could feel his grip on you loosening, only making you grasp at him firmer, because it felt like whatever this had been was slipping from your fingers – as did he.

He gazed up at you and the sight of him – eyes wide with want, lips bruised, cheeks flushed – would be most precious hadn’t you sensed the lust slowly evaporating from between the two of you, Steve’s retreat drawing a thick line behind the outburst of passion. His lips traced a path down your throat, soft and soothing, warm, but not burning; he rested his forehead against your collarbone, having you tip your head back and nearly whine when his hnd respectively returned above the hem of your jeans.

As you gazed to the higher corner of the room, you felt tears of frustration and shame prickling your eyes. All the heat in your body morphed into embarrassment, the last drop to the figurative goblet of patience finally leading to an overflow.

“Why do we always do that?” you whispered soundlessly, your voice cracking on its edge.

Steve winced, head snapping up so quick he nearly knocked into your chin in the process; the lack of coordination spoke of just how taken aback he was by that question.

He stared at you, eyes wide, expression equally startled and pained. You gulped against the lump in your throat, squaring your shoulders to feign courage at least to yourself. Steve didn’t say a word, simply looking at you; at least he had the decency not to ask what you were talking about. That was both wonderful and awful, because on one hand, you were on the same page about something happening – on the other hand, you were on the same page about something happening.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, painfully soft, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he heard you suck in a harsh breath.

“How do we always end up here? I don’t… I don’t want to push you, I don’t want to push me. But I- is there something- is this about crossing some line, that we- you--- fuck,” you cursed as three hot droplets rolled down your cheeks, causing you to grit your teeth as you stomach flipped in shame. You angrily wiped the tears away, unable to meet Steve’s no doubt panicked gaze. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. “God-dammit, I wanted to talk about this and not break into damn tears, I don’t want to be that person—sorry, just, please, forget about this-“

You made to stand up and step back to retain some sort of dignity, because being a soppy mess – on both your face and in your underwear because god damn, Steve was such a skilful kisser and you craved his hands on you so much it was absurd – on top of him felt like anything but. He never let you; his grasp was gentle but unrelenting, much like the trap of his gaze you vainly tried to escape.

“That’s a little hard to forget,” he said lowly, every syllable sitting heavy on your chest – and from the look of it, on his too.

“Well… try,” you pleaded, fighting to gather your composure back, because Jesus, why on Earth were you crying, who even did that, were you into emotional manipulation now? And were you truly crying because your relationship wasn’t moving fast enough for your taste? Alright, that was oversimplification, but still, to shed tears over this was ridiculous and vile.

You knew Steve hated seeing you like this, you hated seeing him losing his composure too, and you had the situation been reversed, you’d do anything to turn his frown upside down. Anything. And so would he. You were so not in for a pity fuck that would, in addition to being a pity fuck, ruin everything.

Why did you have to open your big stupid mouth instead of basking in the fact you were finally with the man you were pining after for two long years? Why couldn’t you keep marvelling at the luck, the privilege not many people had to be with your friend, your love, your GG?

You just had to go and open the pandora box, didn’t you?

Shaking your head, you pressed against Steve’s shoulders, causing him to frown harder – you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t want to let you go, sensing you were truly upset and knowing his touch tended to ground you and him, but at the same time, he wanted to respect your need for space. Because he was a sweetheart. He’d never hurt you and if you just talked to him, explained your side of things, calmly, he’d hear you out and you’d work things out.

JJ had been right – you and Steve did need to talk. But now, with the chest of insecure thoughts unlocked in your brain, was absolutely not the time. Especially not with the scene you had just made.

Jesus, Sparkles, get a grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m being absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled self-consciously, the sound tasting foreign on your lips. You didn’t even recognize the crazy person who burst in tears a minute ago. You wondered if any of your profiler friends would give you a scientific explanation for that. Probably Spence. Maybe Rossi, having had gone through three marriages. Then again Derek probably had the most experience with variety of relationships – though the reason for that was that they never lasted long. Maybe Emily would-

A tender touch on your jaw stopped the frantic train of your thoughts; you blinked, focusing your gaze back to Steve’s face.

“Hey… I doubt that, Sparkles. Tell me what’s wrong. Is this about earlier, at the bowling alley? When you and JJ disappeared for a bit and you were upset? What exactly do you mean by ending up here?”

The flicker of fiery anger in his irises had the corners of your lips twitch weakly, your heart fluttering. ‘Do I have a beef with someone for making my girl sad?’ he had said, his protective persona reappearing.

Steve would beat up anyone who’d try to touch you within the inch of their life and you loved that about him. The issue here, however, was that he’d need to beat up either you or himself.

You genuinely believed this wasn’t the best time to discuss this – but the sincerity in his voice had you make a U-turn. Perhaps there was no time like present; especially since whenever Steve encountered a problem, he was like a dog with a bone. He’d never let it go and even if he’d allow you to steer the conversation elsewhere, understanding you wanted more space to think about it first, he’d just lie awake all night, the gears in his head turning endlessly. That wasn’t fair; neither to you, nor to him.

You licked your lips, taking a wavering breath.

“I mean… us. This. Is it--- is it something I do? Something to make you uncomfortable?” you asked in a hushed whisper, Steve’s eyes now growing wide as saucers. “Or is it that we’ve been friends for too long? Do you—can you even--- see me as-“

Unsure how to finish your thought, you gestured vaguely along your body, nearly slapping his hand still resting on your hip in the process.

Steve’s watched you intently, clueless, seemingly wanting to ask twenty different questions about everything you just said, because you explained nothing. He settled at the most obvious thing.

“See you as…?” he raised his low voice into a question and you bit your cheek, embarrassment eating up all your words.

See you as a woman? Too vague. As an object of desire? Steve would not have it, you even implying you could be an object, even if that was just how the collocation went. A romantic partner wasn’t quite cutting it, a fuck buddy wasn’t the correct term and a set of holes, now that was just unnecessarily crude. Asking him if he ever wanted to sleep with you or have sex with you just sounded basic and blunt and his eyes was still roaming your face and-

Oh.

You could tell the exact millisecond the synapses in the beautiful brain of his sent the signal one to another to create the right image you were trying to paint so clumsily. You could tell because his eyebrows jumped high for a brief moment, before his expression changed into one of intense focus—oh god.

“Wait, so… let me clear something up. You are asking about why I don’t push further in our physical relationship?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, victorious and little desperate at once because there was no going back now. Courage, Jones. Like ripping off a band-aid. “Well… I guess I’m kinda asking—and this sounds awful, but is it you or is it me? Because I’m fine with slow!” Kinda. “I’m just--- we always start and then we stop and I… I can’t but wonder the stopping part is because of something I do, or something we are or have been, or if you feel… pressured into something you don’t want to do or… something…”

You trailed off, voice growing smaller and smaller under his searching gaze as did your vast vocabulary, until you couldn’t bear it and averted his eyes, pretending to find the way his navy-blue shirt contrasted against the creamy couch incredibly fascinating.

You were granted full five seconds before Steve decided – as you knew he eventually would – that he wouldn’t have it. The pads of his fingers applied the tinniest pressure to your chin, guiding you to look back at him; your eyes stubbornly stayed on the buttons of his shirt, until his thumb brushed over your swollen lower lip and your gaze met his at last.

“Sparkles… do you think that I don’t want you?” he asked slowly, so brilliantly baffled that your first instinct was to deny it.

“No! Of course not! It’s not that-- I mean--- I don’t- I don’t know…?”

His eyes softened, regret lacing the warm blue of his irises and you felt the suffocating weight in your lungs grow. Oh no. He pitied you. He thought you were an idiot and an oversensitive hysterical woman he had not signed up to date and you really needed to stop straddling him at least-

“Would you stop trying to get away from me, woman,” Steve huffed exasperatedly, his hands on your shoulder and hip growing firmer again. Not an unescapable cage, because your boyfriend was considerate to a fault, but tight enough to signal how much he wanted you to stay. Until he opened his mouth and made you want to climb out of his lap straight onto the floor in hopes for the carpet to swallow you. “Well, I admit, that is a little absurd--- stay where you are. Please. This is important, we need to talk about this.”

Fine. Fine. You stuck your chin up, crossing your arms on your chest, making Steve drop his hands to his sides. You only barely missed the way Steve’s lips twitched at your defiant gesture and sudden attitude.

You had to give it to him, however – you were much calmer. Somehow, he had managed to steer the tone of the conversation towards the way you usually communicated and despite the absolutely horrid topic of discussion, your insecurity and fear fell quiet, remaining nothing but a whisper in the very back of your mind.

“Okay, Mr. That Is A Little Absurd. Then how is it that you joked about leaving a mark just about anywhere almost a month ago and we didn’t make it past a hickey on my neck where marks are concerned and you never let me…” you paused, licking your lips, thinking about an appropriate way to address the issue of you having been the only to get off so far, “…touch you?”

A sad smile passed over his lips; this time, it was him who briefly lowered his gaze as if bashful.

“Well, you once said that my recklessness is in direct proportion with my ability to heal and… maybe you were a little right.” You couldn’t help it – your eyebrows arched, which didn’t seem to faze him, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “But not with you, Sparkles. I can’t afford to be reckless with you.”

You gulped, defiance leaving you in an instant, your heart touched by the display of vulnerability. But at the same time, you were completely at loss as to what on Earth he could mean by that.

He couldn’t be honestly afraid of accidentally getting you pregnant; for one, you knew for a fact Steve would handle the situation like a man and a champ, and for two, despite what Tony thought, the man out of time was well-aware of contraceptives, you were friends for long enough to know that. However, not being careful about that was about as far as your imagination went when associating the words reckless and sex.

“Reckless how?” you questioned softly, frowning as the gears in your brain turned and turned.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only after… that.”

Say what.

“GG, I would never think that of you,” you chuckled incredulously, thinking for a moment that he was making up a bullshit excuse – except his face was perfectly serious and he shrugged, nothing but sincerity written in his expression.

“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s not like that never happens, is it?”

Oh.

The memory hit you with surprising force and clarity – one of the rare off nights for the Avengers Steve insisted you should come for, maybe four, five months ago, plenty of alcohol and a silly game of truth or dare. It was Tony’s turn--- no Clint’s and you had picked a truth.

‘Aaalright, Johny-Jones, tell us about… your nemesis. Past or now—present. Go.’

It had taken you a minute and since you had apparently not been allowed to get philosophical and say that your nemesis was yourself at times, you picked Ryan. You both had been FBI in training and you had been an idiot, blinded by the fact a handsome guy whom you had sometimes competed against actually wanted you. You had thought it had been about passion; and in a way it had. Two weeks later, the night he had got his dick wet – you remembered now, that had been the exact phrase you used during the Avengers game night – he had been out of the door and then bragged about it, laughing in your face at any chance he had got. By the blessings of karma, he had had little to brag about when he had later failed psych eval necessary to sign up for the Profiling 101 course. You, on the other hand, had got in, never having to see that jerk again.

Only now when Steve indirectly pointed it out, you recalled that your GG had seemed to be particularly protective over you for the rest of the night and for the weeks that had followed.

Because he was always there, ready to defend you, to protect you from harm; should it be inflicted by others or himself.

Suddenly, your eyes burned for a different reason, your stomach tight with emotion as sweet as heavy. In the back of your mind, you cursed Ryan, the insignificant asshole of a man, for creeping into your life years later and adding to the small crisis in your current relationship. Relationship that was nothing like the one with him. It would have never even crossed your mind that Steve could be after getting his dick wet in your honey pot; the idea was more than just a little absurd considering the man you knew he was. But his supersoldier brain with eidetic memory worried it might have – because it had happened to you before.

He watched you for long moments, patiently letting you process. You didn’t know whether to kiss him senseless or smack some sense into him, because how could he even think that was an issue? Just about everything he had ever done for you without a promise of anything more than friendship solidified the notion of him being ridiculously virtuous long time ago. You knew in your very core that he was a good man.

Your man.

“Steve…”

“I don’t… I didn’t say that to be jerk. I just… I want to make you feel good and I want you to know you’re more to me than that. And I want to make sure I give before I take.”

Sweet mother of-

“Oh GG, but you’re already doing that, always! And-” You gulped, unable to say the word sex for some reason. “And it’s not always that I, uhm, I give you one and you give me one back and vice versa. It’s about making each other feel good, giving what the other needs… right? Making them feel loved.”

Look at you, suddenly being a relationship expert when you couldn’t get your shit together for the past few days.

Steve’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair, regret returning to his eyes.

“I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want you,” he whispered, fingertips brushing along your jaw, stopping an inch from your lips. “I do. You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. The things I’d do for you, to you. I just… and you’re you. You’re perfect.”

If your heart skipped a beat at the implication of what he wanted to do to you, heat filled your cheeks when he even suggested you might be perfect even as you barely held back a snort.

Perfect. Right.

“I am most definitely not.”

But Steve just tilted his head to side, the charming bastard, that expressive blue of his eyes telling you not to dare and argue about how he apparently saw you.

Perfect.

It was just a stupid word, but damn, talk about pressure. It was a little hard to live up to the image when you were on a pedestal and maybe you had felt that too. Just another reason for why you didn’t exactly push Steve into crossing the line – because if you were being honest with yourself, even though Steve wasn’t the perfect human being, he was perfect for you and you wouldn’t want him to be disappointed when you’d get to be together that way. It was entirely reasonable for him to feel the same.

You could understand if he was worried about living up to expectations. You could understand if he wanted to make it perfect for you too. You could understand why he latched onto the thought of some lowlife who had once made you feel like you were nothing but a piece of meat and wanted to make sure you never had to feel like that ever again.

Tears welled up in your eyes, your breathing wavering. If you weren’t feeling like suffocating under the devastating affection behind Steve’s words, you’d scream in frustration, because you could have got this out of the way weeks ago, if you just communicated like two adults.

“It doesn’t help that I’m strong and sometimes I fail to be in control of that hundred percent,” Steve added, quickly following up when he saw you wanted to protest. “And I know you know that, just like you know I’d never want to hurt you, but if I get lost in you… I might. I never felt the way about anyone, not like I do with you, Sparkles.”

Overwhelmed by the direction the conversation took, into a perhaps strange, but possibly one of the most thoughtful declarations of love, it slowly dawned to you – much to your brief annoyance – that JJ had been right, again.

‘And what do you think are the chances that he feels just the same? I’d bet he thinks you’re the best damn woman and he really really doesn’t want to fuck it up either…’

You were two peas in a pot who ultimately just wanted for the other to be happy and comfortable but somehow forgot to mention it.

“So you… basically, you don’t want me to feel pressured, just like I don’t want you to feel pressured and you don’t want to hurt me and I don’t want to hurt you?” you piped up, earning a lopsided sad smile. “You just don’t want to mess it up just like I do?”

“Looks like.”

You let your forehead hit his lightly and he met you halfway, your eyelids sliding shut. Relief flooded your system in equal measure with exasperation, wining over just by nose.

“God, GG, we’re both idiots.”

His breathy chuckle tickled your face, his hands cradling your head. “Yeah… but you’re my idiot. Beautiful, considerate idiot-- no, all but the idiot part. You’re brilliant, Sparkles.”

You huffed, opening your eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at you – as if he meant every word.

“Beg to differ, but anyway. Pot, kettle.”

Steve smiled, his nose gently caressing yours before he retreated an inch. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I do want you,” he emphasized, no farther than a breath from your lips. “So much.”

“Noted. And… ditto.”

“And I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, “that’d be nice, that sounds really-”

You never got to finish your sentence, silenced by his lips. You didn’t think you ever had been happier about someone not letting you say your part, never felt so calm despite excitement bursting in your chest. You were in Steve’s loving arms and he wanted you – there was nothing in the world you weren’t going to work through, let alone such small bump on the road.

You revelled in the taste of his smile and in the way his palm warmed your thigh even through your jeans. Parting your lips and yielding to his gentle advances with a sigh, all tension melted from your body, having you slide lower in his lap and catch yourself against his firm chest. A pleased rumble vibrated under your palms, large hand splaying over your back to press you closer to him even as the kiss grew more demanding, your pliant body bending backwards to accommodate Steve’s strength. His free hand gripped at the base of your neck to keep you still, a surge of arousal and confidence straight to your veins and muscles, nerves set on pleasant fire. You sunk your fingers into his hair again, body wrapping around his.

It had to be what he was waiting for, because a second later your found yourself in the air, clinging to Steve’s torso as his arm moved under your ass and hauled you up. The silent yelp of surprise was drowned in his mouth, your stomach flipping as you instinctively locked your ankles around his middle. You couldn’t care less where he carried you as long as he kept kissing you like that, but the direction he was heading was unmistakable.

At least you thought so until your back met the wall, eliciting a gasp from your lips, the bed flashing in the corner of your vision several feet too far. Your fingers dug into Steve’s bicep, clutching in his hair, heat pooling in your core. Oh god.

Oh the countless times you fantasized about this. Steve pinning you to the wall in a show of strength unmatched to another man, radiating heat and grabbing you like he couldn’t get close enough, tongue licking into your mouth as if he wished he could explore the depths of your soul and suck it right out of you.

The breathy ‘Steve’ when he retreated half an inch had to sound downright pornographic but you didn’t give a damn, because he wanted you, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… right?

“You tell me if I do anything you don’t want or like?” he demanded, wording it like an order rather than a question, but your brain searched for a hidden meaning anyway, overanalysing even as you were slipping into kiss-drunken slumber.

You tell me. Anything you don’t like.

You shook your head, an echo of doubt guiding your fingers to cover Steve’s mouth and push him away.

Getting a first look on him ever since he lifted you, your mouth went positively dry despite the mouth-watering sight he made; his pupils were like smouldering coal and as much as you loved seeing soft affection in his eyes, you never wanted him to look at you any different that this ever again. He looked like he could eat you alive and have you begging for more. Even if his brows furrowed momentarily.

Focus, focus, Jones, you had an important thought.

“GG, wait. Don’t do this because you feel like you need to prove me something. We have time and we’ll figure it out, we… we can wait.”

HIs concern melted away, forehead narrowing, a sweet smile forming under your fingers before a kiss made you withdraw your hand and shut up.

His smile turned baffled – and then dangerous.

“That’s… really not why I want to do this,” he assured you, his voice dripping of amusement and something deliciously dark.

“Oh really?” you retorted, cheeky and unimpressed, ignoring (not) your position. “Because you never rise to a challenge.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Sparkles…” he muttered, shaking his head and huffing a silent laugh that quickly turned devious when his body pressed against you so firmly that his hands completely released your body and you whimpered a silent oh my god because that was just his hips holding you against the wall and it should be scary but instead you just felt a shudder run up your spine knowing he would never drop you but that was the sheer weight of his body pinning you to the wall and you could probably let go of the death grip on his shoulders and waist and you still wouldn’t fall.

Those ridiculously warm hands of his cradled your face as you panted and licked your lips, Steve’s eyes flickering down to follow the movement and then stealing your breath altogether with a soft kiss that was everything you could want and yet not even close to what you needed. Your eyes slipped close but you could imagine what the scene looked like; you could feel his gaze on you, watching you with affection and heat, like something precious and his. And his you were, absolutely, he had no idea-

Wait, he was talking, he was trying to make a point--- what had you been talking about?

“Do you have any idea how long…“ he spoke directly to your mouth, one hand slipping lower, the pad of his thumb petting the hollow of your throat lovingly, leaving you unable to stiffen the moan bubbling right under his touch, “-how much I wanted this? Wanted you?”

“Steve-“

“I don’t want to ‘do this’ because it’s some challenge for me. Do you want to know why I do though?” he whispered, lips straying from yours, tracing the line of your jaw, hand sliding down your waist to your thigh as whoever was in control of your body had you nod frantically, earning a smile against your neck. “I want to do this to you because you loved being on the winning team today. So damn cheeky, enjoying getting one up on me.”

You giggled at the truth of his words, the sound turning breathy when Steve’s teeth nipped on your pulse point, your hips bucking forward despite having no space to do so in search for friction. Steve’s fingers flexed on your thigh at the futile attempt, a hiss escaping his lips when you tried to wiggle against his hard-on.

“I want you because there were so many guys just gawking at you tonight, but you were looking at me and you looked like you wanted me too.”

“I did—I do,“ you breathed out, all doubts and insecurities forgotten.

He was making very compelling arguments and the fleeting idea that this could have been some act of simply proving a point was long gone, poured down the drain of absurdity. Forget about that. You needed Steve. You needed him to do something, anything more than this and you needed it now.

“And then you kissed me like no one was watching, but I knew about every single jerk looking our direction wishing they were in my place.”

“Oh yeah, tons of them, I bet-“ you muttered sarcastically, but somehow, with his nimble fingers sneaking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap back lightly, your words sounded more like a confirmation when you whimpered.

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, you were sure he was going to make you come just like that, with his words, his hands on your body and his tongue licking at your collarbone.

Jesus Christ-

“Uh-huh. I want you because these damn jeans leave nothing to imagination but I imagined what you’re wearing under them anyway. And my head is fuckin’ full of your perfume I want to taste it as it clings to your skin when you wear absolutely nothing and I want to still smell it when you wear my shirt the morning after.”

Yes, yes, you wanted that too, like yesterday was too late already-

“I want you because that little dance of yours had me so fucking hard I almost took you right there in front of everyone.”

“GG, stop talking and kiss me,” you begged him because truly, truly, you were convinced, utterly and unchangeably, now if he could just get to it and sooth the liquid fire your insides turned into, that would be just wonderful. A+ for his dirty talk, but-

He ignored your plea, glancing up, eyes hungry, lips swollen and impossibly red when he smirked.

“I want you because you make me imagine doing things that are everything but gentle,” he corrected you darkly, fingertips tracing the soft skin of your breast just under the cut of your shirt, tickly in the most delicious way. “Some punk kid at the bar tried to touch your ass today and I wanted to break his hand. Six days ago, at your first full training after recovery, Rodriguez held nothing back despite his instruction and I had to send Natasha to deal with him because I would have broken his hand, I’d rip it right fucking off because he hurt you.”

Through the fog of arousal, you recalled the training in question. Rodriguez had got you in the ribs good, even if you had barely felt it the next day. Steve had been furious, but he always was; even as your friend he had hated seeing you hurt, it was one of the things that both warmed your heart and made the butterflies in your stomach flip their wings like crazy, made your core throb long before you professed your love to each other, even if a completely different way than he was doing it now.

All his admissions made for a tremble in your muscles, a race in your heart; he was whispering his sins into your skin as if your body was a confessional and with every kiss he was asking for absolution. A thoroughly good man asking absolution for his wrath and lust and greed. Everyone who knew Steve Rogers even in passing knew all about his giving nature – and the way he had your body sing made him seem plenty generous. But his lips, tasting every inch of bare skin and marking his claim, his hands gripping you so hard it bordered on painful, these were nothing short of greedy, as were his words.

“No one touches you. No one hurts you. I want you and I want to do unthinkable things to you, over and over, just so all you know is my name and I want you to say it, whisper it or scream it until you can’t anymore.”

“Steve, please-“

“This is why I want to do this and I want it so much it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane,” he accused you fondly, lips detached from your skin at last as he levelled his face with yours. “It feels impossible to hold back sometimes.”

Here was the frustration joke: you didn’t want him to hold back. You were left breathless, speechless, molten lava coursing through your veins and the sight of him, face flushed, pupils blown wide, his breaths coming out short only fed your unbearable hunger. You could almost feel him tremble against you and you knew it wasn’t from the strain of holding you up against the wall – it was from the effort not to snap.

How he wasn’t fucking you six ways into Sunday already and managed to keep composure after everything he just confessed to was beyond you. And he was still talking, a raspy warning that had the opposite effect than intended – because instead of wanting to put the fire out, you wanted to pour gasoline all over it.

“This is how I want you and how much I want you. But I must not scare you away, Sparkles. You’re too important. I need you to say yes, I need you to tell me you want this too and I need you to promise me to tell me to stop if I go too far.”

Oh you could tell him yes and make all the promises he wanted. As soon as you’d find your voice. As soon as you’d figure where the gasoline and matches were.

“I don’t scare easily, Steve,” you whispered, a sound so choked one would think you he already had you scream his name over and over.

Licking your lips, you willed your fingers to pet the soft material of his shirt as it strained over his shoulders, a minute tremble in them as you undid the first button. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he stood tall, endlessly patient. The self-control on the man. You couldn’t wait to push just a little more to see it burn to dust.

“And if I ever get afraid, I have you to protect me, don’t I?” you taunted, undoing the second button, then the third, leaning in to kiss the newly exposed skin, a faint taste of sweat on your tongue.

You barely bit back a smile as his chest expanded with a rapid inhale. You loved the effect you had on him, your words – however true – intentionally playing into the role of a protector you knew was important to him and made him preen.

“You’d never let anyone hurt me. I trust you.”

With the fourth button, you found yourself with not enough space to continue. That was fine. You kissed your way up his sternum over the hollow of his throat until you found his lips, parted, hot and eager to receive – a kiss, another compliment. You let your hands appreciate the expanse of his chest, his biceps, his broad shoulders; you weren’t sure if the moan came from you or him. Maybe both.

“I know you would never hurt me, not for a lack of strength… but you can use that strength too. I won’t break, unless it’s for you,” you promised, whispering straight to his lips, satisfied at the groan it drew from his throat. “I want you to do everything you want to do to me.”

“Sparkles…”

You withdrew as much as the wall behind you allowed, taking care to look directly in his dark eyes. You hoped you spoke with conviction – and enough of an innocent smile, even if on the inside, you were smirking.

“And I know I’m more to you than a piece of meat. You’re nothing like… them. You’re a good man, Steve, a smart man. My man… my Captain.”

The last one was a stretch, a bold guess based on loose observation; you held your breath in anticipation as three long seconds of silent stillness followed, your words sinking in.

But then, the effect was immediate.

Steve’s body slammed into yours with ferocity that knocked the wind out of you, a movement so fierce you were worried you might crash through the wall straight into the next room. His mouth slanted over yours with a beautiful animalistic sound, an unapologetic claim with no regard of giving before taking. A bruising grip on your thighs, a minute retreat of his hips just so he could rock them back against your drenched core, having you clench around nothing and wishing for a breath just so you could beg to have something in there instead.

Your futile attempt to speak up was cut off by a nip of teeth on your lower lip, Steve long fingers stretching over your ass to press mere inches from your lower lips and making you keen in relief and need.

“You just fucking love pushing my buttons, don’t you,” he grunted, his other hand sneaking under your blouse and squeezing your ribs on the side of your breast.

Not giving you a chance to confirm nor deny, he claimed dominance over your mouth again as soon as you breathed in.

The tips of his fingers were barely touching you where you craved him, but with every second you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, gasping when the pressure suddenly disappeared, a chuckle rambling in his chest pressing against your breasts.

“Oh no you don’t.”

His hands settled on your waist, firm, lips moving to your ear, nipping on your earlobe. “You know me so damn well, sweetheart. But guess what… if you think you can play me as you wish, think again.”

The sound you made couldn’t have been human, a frustrated whimper and a plea. Your whole body was on fire, melting like butter and sinking into his rich honey-like voice wrapping your senses in the delicious threat that followed.

“‘Cause I don’t know you nearly well enough so I’m gonna take my sweet time learning about every inch of your body and every little thing that makes you sing before I give you what you need.”

Your head spun with a rapid movement – around and backwards you thought – the support behind your back gone for a moment and then suddenly there was no support at all. You couldn’t fly for longer than a second but you yelped anyway, the sound drowned in the cushions of the bed you safely landed in.

“GG!”

Vice-like grips on your ankles and you were being pulled until your legs hung down the bed and a hot wet kiss was pressed under your belly button, blouse racked up to your rapidly rising and falling chest.

Holy fucking shit, you weren’t sure what the hottest part of this was – the show of strength, the safety you felt despite the insanity he just pulled off, or the fact he was literally kneeling between your legs and his dextrous fingers already undid the button and the fly of your jeans and were working their way up your ribcage, exploring just as eagerly as his mouth. Your back arched under his touch when his teeth grazed just under the hem of your bra, providing him with the perfect opportunity to undo the clasps and push the offending piece of clothing out of the way.

You felt like you were about to explode any second, but Steve, while eager, was in no rush. He was like a reverent believer finally discovering the temple of the only god he ever worshipped for the first time. The way his hand supported your shoulder blades as he nuzzled your breast, nosing his way over the sensitive skin and licking at the peeked nipple filled you with impatience, pride and affection at once.

You had a non-selfish lover before, but you had never experienced something more sensual than this. You had never had a man make love to your body. Steve treated it as a piece of art and under his touch, you felt like a damn masterpiece.

He didn’t have to ask you to get rid of what stood in his way, but he appreciated the newly exposed skin with a pleased hum despite the clumsy way you managed to strip your tops with; pressing a little harder, sucking the flesh of your breast with enough fervour to leave a mark.

The oh my god, Steve- left your lips as a whine. Your limp hands found purchase of his hair, pulling him up to steal a kiss from those sinful lips. He followed willingly, stretching his body over yours, catching himself on his hand – but your felt the brush of his rock-hard cock against your core anyway and your hips tilted up, searching for the much-needed friction.

He groaned into the filthy kiss, his uncompromising hand pushing your hip back into the cushions.

“Steeve-“

Screw taking his sweet time. You felt like crying from how he worshipped you but some of the suffocating sensation most definitely stemmed from the sheer frustration of not being fucked into the mattress relentlessly yet. You released his hair in order to work the buttons of his damn shirt, barely managing to undo them with your shaky fingers, sighing in bliss when you got to touch the hot skin of his abdomen you drooled over for almost two years now.

“I want you so damn much-“ he whispered to your lips before he freed you, mouth tracing a hot path down your throat and sternum, lower and lower, fingertips trailing behind as the desperate words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Then take me.”

The loveable bastard smiled, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your jeans, nimble fingers slipping under the denim and finally ridding you of the atrocious piece of clothing you were sure must have been soaked through at this point too. Regretfully, his touch disappeared so he could strip the jeans fully but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make as long as it moved things forward.

Much like when he had helped you lose your shoes the day you were released form the med bay four weeks ago, his red-hot palm cradled your calf. Except this time, a kiss landed just above your knee, coaxing your legs apart with the lightest pressure, muttering into your skin as he torturously slowly made his way up.

“Loved you for so long, imagined having you in so many ways…” he groaned, almost pained, and you couldn’t but glance at him, all curses you ever known on your tongue but none on them making it out as you white-knuckled the sheets.

The sight of Steve between your spread legs was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t imagine a better way to go except maybe if he touched you where you needed him the most before you went.

“Anything-” you choked out. Everything. He was mere three inches from your dripping centre and you were ready to sell your soul to the Devil for him to just move.

You didn’t have any brain space left to be self-conscious about him inhaling the heady aroma of your sex, not when the burning gaze you had met settled on his prize with unabashed hunger.

“God, look at you, you’re dripping for me. Gonna love on you, Sparkles…”

“Yes, please-“

He chuckled, the huff of hot air teasing your core over the useless fabric of your underwear. “Look at you, you little tease, so polite all of sudden…”

You didn’t get as much as a second to call him a smug bastard; with one sharp tug, your panties were gone and the tip of his tongue dipped into your soaked lips. His moan vibrated through your whole body, echoing the cry of his name.

“Steve-”

“Fuck, sweetheart-“ was all he said before he dived in deep, pushing your legs further apart to accommodate his broad shoulders.

His nose bumped into your oversensitive clit, his tongue gathering your essence off your lips before pushing between them and making you back out from the sensual assault even as you didn’t know whether you wanted to escape or lean into it. The forearm suddenly laying over your hips prevented you from either and left you with no option but to take it – even if it should kill you.

So be it. You could make peace with such fate.

Grabbing after Steve’s hair, you reached the starry highs embarrassingly fast with no more than one finger in pressing just right and Steve’s lips sucking on your clit – and a sob vaguely resembling his name on your lips.

Your body shook with the aftershocks as your lover licked at every drop, easing the pressure on your belly to let you ride it out. Your ears were still ringing when the first of his whispers crept into your consciousness, a husky voice full of affection, pads of his thumbs drawing soothing circles above your hipbones.

“Beautiful, so beautiful… always so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Your vision was blurry as you stared at the ceiling, panting, heart hammering as if you just fought off an army of mercenaries. Steve’s soft lips travelled up your body, leaving a sticky trail in their wake, lingering anywhere they deemed fit.

His messy hair appeared in your vision first, a kiss landing on your jaw. You still couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, coming down from the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced.

Until a delighted chuckle reached your ears, your gaze focusing on Steve’s dark gaze shining with thousand stars.

“Oh, is this a way to shut your smart mouth, Sparkles?”

Shut my brain, more like, you wanted to say, but the only thing you managed was a small grumble, a blissed-out sound too tiny to have him believe you were mad. As if you could ever be mad at him for that.

“GG-“

He chuckled again, leaning in to kiss your lips, gentle at first, until you moaned at the bittersweet tang of your own juices and his fingers tangled in your damp hair, his warm weight covering you like a blanket. You were surprised when you felt two hot tears roll down your temples into your hair – and you weren’t the only one.

Steve freed your lips with a wet pop, his flushed face full of concern.

“You good?”

You huffed a laugh, blinking frantically as to stop more tears from coming.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not that it was that bad it made me cry-” you teased him lightly, chest so full of feeling you were no longer surprised your body needed to release the pressure somehow. “But also don’t let it go into your head too much-“

Steve shut your smart mouth again, clearly reassured, his lips tasting of victory and pride this time. You couldn’t really hold it against him – he literally gave you an orgasm so good it made you cry.

And you still wanted more.

He already gave and now it was time to take, but he sure had made it feel like you weren’t the only one receiving when he was giving. It was sweet. It was empowering. It made you feel thoroughly loved, even if he was still being a little shit.

You grabbed the opportunity to finally appreciate his toned stomach, revelling in the sensation of his muscles shifting under your palms, one of your hands moving to give some attention to his pectorals too.

He liked that, if the small sound in the back of his throat and the breath of your name was anything to go by. It was the perfect prompt to explore further. And boy, you did.

His body was downright unreal. Yet never had anything felt so real as the warm humming power under your touch, smooth and slightly damp skin stretching over the delicious dips and valleys, rising with every inhale. You doubted you’d let you have your time with him now – he felt heavy and hard against your belly, so much it had to be painful, and his mouth kept your own busy enough – but soon, you’d trace the same lines your fingers were drawing on his chiselled torso with your tongue instead and then would move onto his biceps, grazing the prominent vein leading down his arm with your teeth.

The prospect fuelled your arousal, impatient hands sliding under the opened shirt into his sleeves, pushing at the fabric, whining upon feeling his bulging biceps. Those were the arms that held you against the wall. Those were the arms that tossed you around like you were nothing. Those were the arms that would rip apart anyone who’d try to hurt you.

“Get this damn thing off,” you cursed, for the first time realizing you were there lying completely naked and Steve had at least three pieces of unnecessary clothing still on.

He obliged with a hum, breaking your kiss as he balanced himself on his knees instead of his forearms. You took advantage of his momentary occupied hands and of the sudden space to take initiative, palming the prominent bulge straining the seams of his jeans. The most beautifully broken groan was your reward; you couldn’t wait to hear it again, making a quick work of unbuckling his belt before his infamous supersoldier reflexes could even kick in, his hands still tangled in his shirt. Once freed, he cradled your face and pressed your back to the bed with renewed eagerness.

You were fine with one hand on his bare skin and the other pushing his jeans down, all that while his tongue tangled with yours. You were still an agent; one feeling a little boneless after orgasmic high, but still a very efficient AI agent. You could multitask. If Steve overwhelmed all your senses, hot and throbbing in your hand, his cologne and the tang of sex and sweat filling your nostrils, his choked moan echoing in your ears once you freed him, you were more than able to process all that at once too.

In fact, the head of his cock nudging at your slit was the perfect cherry on top of it all the sensations and he seemed to agree. Until he realized it all felt all too good and retreated with a curse.

“Wait, love, I have to-“

You shook your head and pulled him back for another kiss. You were covered, so to speak and honestly you had no other protection at hand and the mere notion of stopping now was unthinkable. Honestly the fact he said I have to, taking the responsibility on himself, was the last touch to your decision.

“Pill. Clean. Please.” Just fill me.

His lust-filled eyes roamed your face for long seconds, whatever argument happening in his head cut off when you let your fingers curl around his length and pumped him, thumb stroking over the leaking head of his cock.

“Yeah, okay-- God- THAT.”

You grinned to yourself smugly, angling your hips for him to slide in. You were still so wet for him you knew it wouldn’t be an issue – even if his grith certainly would be a challenge and maybe you were going to regret your hastiness tomorrow… today.

Or not at all.

He went slow. Shallow languid thrusts, sweetened by deep kisses and praise spilling from his lips, giving way with a gently tightening knot in your belly instead of pain. Fingers interlaced with yours next to your head, drinking gasps and moans of pleasure from each other’s’ lips. A voiceless fuck give me a moment, you’re so tight, I can’t-, a glorious view of Steve’s face contorted in pleasure and reverence.

‘I love you’ whispered straight to your mouth once he settled all way in, filling you up to a point you thought you’d combust and thank him for it.

“Love you, GG. I didn’t mean to push you.”

You had no clue why you said that, but Steve didn’t give you a chance to panic, a breathy laugh shaking his chest, nose nudging yours. The image would be magnificent at any given time, but the circumstance gave the it an intimate aura of a secret thing shared between you two only.

“You only push my buttons all the time,” he hushed you, causing you to chuckle and whimper when he experimentally moved back and forth, clearly deeming you ready – and by lord, were you ready, every drag of his length nothing short of delicious, stoking the fire in your belly. “And please notice I participate pretty enthusiastically--- fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You noticed.

You appreciated the hell out of every ounce of self-control Steve had shown just a few minutes ago in order not to hurt you – but seeing the cracks in foundation opening and releasing the same man who pinned you to the wall was a hypnotic sight. His gentle touch morphing into grasps and squeezes, soft kisses and encouragement blending into claims and filthy praise. Arms having created a sense of safety wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place, fingers clutching at your hair not to hurt but to prevent you from escaping his advances. Flesh slapping flesh with every thrust, his pubic bone brushing your clit. The rubber band tightening in your belly threatening to snap with every word whispered gravely to your skin, to your mouth.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to be mine-”

“I am. Always yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking when his hand slipped under the small of your back, the change of angle making you stifle a moan, nails digging into his biceps.

“Damn right. Will keep you like this all night, take you over and over until you can’t think of anything else but my name and how it feels when I fill you up…”

As he rose to his knees, making you prop up on your heels, thighs shaky with exertion, you were more than grateful for his support; more so since your bones felt as if they have turned into molasses at this point.

“All night, every night. Every day, every fucking chance we get,” he promised feverishly.

The moan that spilled from your lips was obscene, but so were Steve’s words.

In a forgotten rational part of your brain, you understood what he had meant by scaring you off – thinking this would be too much. But damn, your lust-drunk mind had never heard a better idea in your life—this, this, you wanted more, you wanted everything he said. You needed him to break you just to put you together again, because you were his, his, his and you wanted him to claim you just like this, unapologetically, brushing the depths of you with every stroke, making you ache for him long before, during and long after--- you’d never get enough.

“Oh you want that?” he hummed with wicked glee as he felt you clench around him, fingers quick to gather your slick and circle your oversensitive bundle of nerves, rippling a mindless cry of please from your throat. “You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Steve--- so close-”

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Never ceasing the attention to your clit or his frantic thrusts, Steve’s burning palm laid over your belly in a silent claim – and you were done for.

Chanting his name over and over as he rode it out with you, you almost missed the string of curses under his breath, his pace growing erratic, his hold on your turning bruising.

“Shit, doll, that’s it, that’s it--- fuck, look at you.”

Your walls fluttered around him again. Eyes snapping wide open, you caught him in a moment of utter bliss, crimson lips parted with a guttural moan of your name, messy hair sticking to his forehead, that unreal body having gone rigid as he spilled inside of you, nothing but small frantic motions of his hips as he prolonged his pleasure. With you. In you. You did that.

This was an image and feeling you’d remember forever – and planned to relive it many, many times to come.

A barely noticeable tremble to his muscles – you did that, the pleasure with you rendered a supersoldier boneless – he slowly, oh so slowly pulled out with a whimper on your part. You felt his seed spill down your sensitive lips as he lowered your almost limp body to the mattress, biting back another sound when the feeling sent a pleasant shudder up your spine.

Eyes fluttering open, Steve’s gaze trailed over your spent body before settling on your face, charming an exhausted but utterly satisfied smile for you. Stretching his warm body over yours, your hands instantly finding purchase of his broad shoulders, he graced you with a soft kiss to your lips, fingers carding through your hair. That was definitely a thing for him – and you couldn’t complain; you only catalogued it for a future reference, sighing contentedly into his mouth, appreciating the firm expanse of his back under your palms, the brush of rock-solid thighs against yours.

Your breath hitched when your brain registered another very solid part of his body, the small sound having Steve release your lips.

“Are you okay?” he fussed sweetly, your momentarily broken mind unable to appreciate the sentiment.

That’s not possible. That’s not how-

Your throat, already hoarse from crying Steve’s name repeatedly, turned sand-paper dry – or at least your choked voice sounded as if it did. You clenched your hand into fist to stop the urge to check what your mind had trouble to comprehend.

“GG, are you still…?“

Steve whole body radiated unnatural warmth more than usual already – but his face turned into a furnace as his forehead rested against yours, eyes closing.

“Serum. Not still… again,” he admitted reluctantly, having your racing heart skip a startled and giddy beat. Your body went stiff.

Oh. Okay. Right, right, right- That was fine. That realization didn’t feel like someone just rearranged your guts and had tingles run through your whole body. The prospect of this absolute god of a man ,who had got you off in ways all your past lovers combined could never, being able to do it all over again did not short-circuit all your rational thoughts. At all.

Steve most definitely misinterpreted your stunned silence as something else than positively horny.

“Just… give me a moment,” he muttered almost apologetically, loving lips pressing to your mouth, then your forehead. “I’ll get something to clean us up in a minute.”

Yeah, no.

Licking your lips, you feasted your eyes on Steve’s worn features, fingers sliding to down his hair to scratch soothingly at his nape. Bashful smile appeared on his lips, briefly brushing yours before he went to rise from the position on his elbows.

You were quick to wrap your leg around his gloriously pulp ass, his eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Stay a little longer?” you offered softly, heart racing against your ribcage as your plan to seduce him again slowly formed in your head. “If that’s okay… please?”

“I’m whipped, aren’t I,” he chuckled breathily, but obliged, earning a bright smile from you and kiss on his nose that made him laugh feebly, the lines of his abs and his hardness brushing against your stomach, enticing you to let your fingers wander.

Wander over the solid strings of muscle on his back, over his shoulders, that damn vein on his arm just calling out for you, over his ribcage expanding quicker and quicker with every passing second of your tender exploration.

“You’re a damn piece of art,” you whispered, biting back a moan when you reached the sinfully defined V-line, wrist accidentally skimming over his still very hard length.

A small shift of weight and Steve’s fingers locked firmly around your wrist, gentle warning written all over his face. You looked up at him, shuddering in excitement as you recognized he saw right through you. Yet, he didn’t protest when your free hand slid down his torso and you strained your neck to touch your lips where you could reach, to the sharp edge of his jaw.

“Sparkles…”

His chest rumbled with the single word, bringing a smile to your face as you used the hook you still had around his leg to push your hips up.

“Yes, love?”

His fingers tightened around your hand, his expression hardening – but you could see it. You could see the absolute glee behind his irises, the dark satisfaction at the fact he was not the only one insatiable. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had enough.

And some very, very primal part of his brain roared upon the realization. Conveniently precisely the part you wanted to unleash now that you had got a very thorough taste what Steve was like in bed. If he wanted to keep you there for the rest of your days, you were absolutely on board.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he warned, having you licked your lips at the perfect opening for teasing.

“I don’t know, looks like it’s not me who needs to finish… something.”

The deliberately slow drag of your gaze down his body to the very evidence you were referring to was the last straw – or maybe it was the way your fingers stretched to touch the smooth skin of his cock again.

You didn’t even know how you ended up with both your hands pinned next to your head, but suddenly they were there. No pain in the movement – Steve was careful with that still, his thumbs even petting the insides of your wrists – but the glint in his eye was nothing short of dangerous. And it had your sensitive walls flutter around nothing, craving him filling you up again already.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it feels exactly like that,” you poked, chin pushed up defiantly, “Captain oh mine.”

The flash in his eyes spoke volumes.

Oh, you had done it now. And you loved it. But the reason why you could afford that, that you loved even more. The way Steve’s searching gaze roamed your face, checking, even if briefly, for any sign of discomfort and only then allowing himself to let loose, appealed more than anything to the last remnants of reason slipping from you. You had no doubt he would ruin your body in the best way; but you trusted him to rebuild it all the same. Playing with fire had never been so safe.

“Hm…” Steve pretended to muse, lips descending to yours, tenderly kissing your lower lip, before his teeth sunk into it and tugged at it, having your breath hitch. “Well, sweetheart, you know that sometimes I do rise to a challenge.”

One of your wrists released, your breathing quickened as Steve’s palm dragged down your side, cupping your ass, fingers dipping into between your tender lower lips again.

“We’ll see who’s gonna need what when I have one of my favourite fantasies played out right in front of me.”

Euphoria exploded behind your eyelids already as two of his fingers scooped his spent and entered you, slowly massaging your most sensitive spot before he scissored them.

“What’s that?” you humoured him, rocking your hips into his generous touch, a soundless oh god escaping you when his thumb flickered over your puffy bundle of nerves.

His mouth slanted over yours in a promise of pleasure, muffling your noise of protest when his thick fingers left you empty again, the smile forming against your previously preoccupied lips menacing.

“You writhing under me, senseless with need, desperate for what only I can give you… which I will… if you ask nicely enough.”

Three fingers slid into you with ease this time, making you cry out as the heel of Steve’s palm pushed against your clit. It was a touch of paradise, a surge of ecstasy to your veins – but you understood now that to truly seize it, you’d have to work and wait and plead. The premise had you trembling with need already.

“And you will, sweetheart. You will.”

Steve Rogers was a man of his word. Stubborn and determined, he delivered on his promise to the last detail. Pushing you right to the edge, only to stop and have you straddle him, have you work for it only to still your hips and steal your breathy cry, a taunting smile against your lips, his long fingers wrapped around wrist whenever you tried to cheat and touch yourself.

“Anything you need from me, love?” whispered to your mouth, the crack in his voice the only indication he wasn’t all that composed as he wanted you to believe. “I’d love to help. I’d love to see you come undone… you want that too?”

“Was that… a please? I didn’t quite catch that, you know I’m of age…”

A shaky delighted laugh at your pathetic ‘fuck you’ turning into a whimper when you found yourself on your belly all of sudden, fingertips teasing your inner thighs, brushing your lower lips, heady kisses with a devious smile coaxing another plea from you as his weight over you reminded you of how much of an upper hand he had.

The ‘good girl’ sounding a little choked, a testimony of how no matter how delirious he had driven you with pleasure, this was his fantasy played out with in front of his eyes. The ‘I’ll give you anything you ask, Sparkles. Everything. Always.’, fingers interlaced with yours when he finally gave you what you begged for, a reminder that despite the mischief and the indulgent dominance, you were utterly loved.

Broken and rebuilt all at once, exhausted to the point of barely keeping conscious when Steve kissed your shoulder, covering you with the warmth of his body, gently angling your head and whispering to your lips how he loved you, how good you were for him, to him, as if you had just made a terrible sacrifice. Tenderly cleaning you up where you had been joint, a fresh trail of kisses up your spine, bringing a faint smile to your face.

“I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything, love?”

You only grumbled, genuinely too tired to move anything, even your mouth. Steve’s soft laugh was but an echo. You didn’t want to know what time it was – too sated to really care.

“Water and jelly beans maybe?”

You forced to corner of your lips rise higher, willing your voice to form at least a murmur.

“You did not pack jelly beans into your overnight bag,” you hummed.

At Steve’s chuckle and something landing a foot from your face, you cracked an eye open. A goofy smile spread on your lips, even as snacking was the last thing on your mind. This man. You spied a bottle of water in his hand when he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to push damp strand of hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured, gazing up at him with tired fondness, which he wholeheartedly reciprocated. “I’m keeping you.”

His smile turned brighter than the sun, making you close your eyes.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” he said lowly, fingers carding through your hair lovingly, before stroking your cheek. “Come on, Sparkles, gotta get some water into you at least.”

With a huff, you opened your eyes again, trying to regain control of your heavy limbs. He was right, but leaving the soft mattress, more so when you had Steve was right there, didn’t sound appealing.

Brows furrowing, guilt peeking from under his content smile, Steve helped you sit up, cradling your head to his shoulder.

“I’m s-“

Your palm landed on his bare chest with a small smacking sound.

“Don’t you dare, keeper.”

He kissed the top of your head, letting you feel his smile again when you nuzzled into him – comfort, warmth and familiarity.

“Come on, Sparkles. Water, teeth and then sleep,” he negotiated, setting an example as he downed half the bottle, never easing his support to your body. A part of you wanted to complain it was easy for him to say with his serum-boosted stamina, but for one, you didn’t want to be a cry baby, second, you were too blissed out to even think to voice any complaint and third, how could you grumble when your GG was once again so effortlessly nurturing?

He dutifully supported your weight when he seated you on the bathtub to brush your teeth, carried you back to bed, settled you against his chest when you laid down and gave into the exhaustion before you managed to wish him goodnight and he didn’t say a single word of complaint – though maybe he snickered a bit once or twice. Fondly.

Tipping over the edge of consciousness, you thought you felt a kiss on your forehead, a gentle whisper covering you warmly just as you were slipping under.

“I’m keeping you too.”

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

I’m imagining Sparkles’ phone ringing in the morning to get ready for their brunch with JJ, Will and the kids and Reid - Steve reluctantly picking up instead, when she sleeps like dead. I see him apologizing, claiming you had trouble sleeping. JJ muttering ‘you go girl’ under her breath, but responding with a motherly wannabe worried voice, offering to make it a lunch instead, and self-highfiving the second she ends the call😅 Steve being too content to worry about it and snuggling back to Sparkles 💕

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading and for your feedback!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #former bau agent reader #agent reader #steve rogers fluff #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #love on the brain #no pressure #anika ann

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potsandpains · 2 years

Text

practically perfect in every way part 4

hotch x fem!reader

AN: ooookay im still alive!! let me know what y'all think of this!!!

jack is 6 at the beginning of this, haley is,,, not living (rip) and hotch is aorund 40ish in this! reader is 25-26ish.

summary: aaron is feelin real angsty over how much he likes his son's nanny, and his angst is made worse by said nanny having a boyfriend he is NOT a fan of

plus a little action in this one wink wink

CW: asshole boyfriend??? i think that's it???

part 1:

part 2:

part 3:

/ / /

“Garcia do we have an address for the suspect’s parents?” Hotch said into his phone.

“Yes sir,” she replied, “looks like Kurt and Cheryl are at 1312 y/n Drive. Sending you the address now!”

“Thank you.” He hung up.

How funny, he thought, what are the odds a tiny town with a population of less than 20,000 people would have a street with her name on it?

When he and Morgan rounded the corner to the address, he took a picture of the street sign and sent y/n a text.

AH: Saw your name on a street sign in the middle of nowhere. Funny, right?

She responded almost immediately.

YN: Oh that’s way funny! Any way you could pull some FBI strings and steal the sign for me? It would make for a great wall decoration lol

AH: Something tells me theft of city property might be an abuse of my position. Sorry.

YN: All good, boss man. Only joking lol.

It had been a few weeks since the black eye incident. Their moment in the kitchen (so rudely interrupted by Jack. Aaron loved his son but he didn’t know if he’d ever been so exasperated with him than in that very moment) lingered in Aaron’s memory. His dynamic with y/n hadn’t changed dramatically, but it didn’t necessarily feel like it had never happened either.

She was still her bubbly self, he the stoic grouch she claimed he was. She teased him and he teased back with enough encouragement. But something was different.

He caught her looking at him with the same tender expression he had caught that night more and more, and he wasn’t sure if it was because it was occurring with greater frequency or because she wasn’t hiding it.

He found himself more apt to be close to her. They had never been physically affectionate, but she now gave him a hug goodbye before she left every night, and when he got home from cases he hugged both Jack and her.

He felt like he was back in middle school, losing his mind over hugging her. But he loved being able to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, even if it was just for a second or two.

Those seconds were precious to him, as she now was spending more and more time with Braden.

Y/n and Braden had met while in line at the grocery store. Y/n was picking up groceries for the Hotchners when she realized she had forgotten goldfish crackers for Jack. So, turning to the person behind her, she asked if he could hold her space in line while she went to grab them.

He said he would, in exchange for her phone number and a coffee date.

At least, that’s how y/n explained it to Aaron. She and Braden went on the coffee date and had gotten along quite well, and had been texting ever since.

Aaron, having never met him, obviously hated him.

He was sure he was fine, really, but he hated that Braden apparently had more guts than he did.

Aaron Hotchner, unit chief of the BAU, an FBI agent who chased psychopaths for a living, had been too scared to act on how he felt, and as a result had to listen to y/n talk about whoever Braden was, heart wincing every time.

He found out who Braden was, naturally.

Besides y/n’s description, he had Garcia run a very thorough background check the minute he got a last name from Y/n. Braden Casey; a high school math teacher who enjoyed dogs, hiking, and reading in his free time. Besides having an odd fixation with self-help podcasts (who listens to 4 different podcasts on how to become ‘the man’?) no red flags arose from the report he received from Garcia, but there was something about him that Aaron simply did not trust.

Y/n didn’t talk about him much. He assumed it was because she was trying to be somewhat professional around him. He hoped it was to spare his feelings.

He tried to be encouraging and supportive. “What’s Braden like?” He had asked her.

“He’s great,” She had said. “I don’t know, he’s always working towards being a better version of himself, and he really wants to be the best person he can. It’s something I really admire about him.”

He hoped that was true.

They dated slowly, he thought. Apparently Braden did a lot of after school tutoring and wasn’t free many evenings and heaven knows y/n was busy with Jack, so they didn’t go out often.

He learned from y/n this was called the “talking stage,” where they weren’t strictly dating each other but were still communicating and maintaining interest.

Thus, another reason he thought Braden an idiot. Y/n wasn’t the kind of person with whom you had a talking stage, he had thought. Aaron thought if he were smart Braden would snap y/n up as quickly as he could. Although, he wished he wouldn’t.

That’s what he would have done, if hadn’t psyched himself out. He tried to convince himself to own up to what he felt and to simply tell her. It would be much easier to have it out in the open if she wasn’t in a committed relationship, right?

But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She seemed happy, and he didn’t want to ruin that by saying “hey, i know you’re my son’s nanny and i'm technically your boss but just a heads up I wanted to tell you I’m so in love with you I can hardly function!”

He didn’t think that would end well.

So he was quiet. And patient. And frustrated as hell.

/ / /

Around two months into their “talking stage,” y/n had mentioned to him that she and Braden were officially dating.

“Really?” he asked, feigning excitement. “That’s exciting. Congrats.”

“Thanks!” She replied. “I’m excited.”

“So how is that going to work? He seems pretty busy, and heaven knows we keep you busy enough around here-”

“Oh,” she interrupted. “Braden mapped out a schedule of things so we have an idea of when we’re both free. He says he wants to ‘optimize on any free time so this will work’,” She said, using air quotes with a laugh on her lips.

Aaron briefly considered completely chaning every aspect of Jack’s and y/n’s schedule to throw a wrench in Braden’s plans. Deciding to save his pettiness for another day, he simply nodded.

“That sounds very… organized.” He said.

“Yeah he’s kind of funny about that kind of stuff. Blames it on his math brain, apparently. Everything has a system and a place and he likes things done as neatly as possible.”

What was she, his girlfriend or a calculus problem? He thought to himself.

“Well great. Sounds like he’s thought of everything then.” He said.

She shrugged. “Sure seems like it.”

/ / /

“No, I still can’t make it tonight. Yeah, Jack has a big history project due tomorrow and I really want to be here in case he needs help… No, I can’t just call Jess. Look, I’m sorry you bought tickets for that orchestra concert I told you I couldn’t go to weeks ago but I- Yes, I put it on the google calendar and everything. This project is really important to Jack and I’m not missing it... I really am so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Aaron was at his desk in his office, listening (while simultaneously trying not to listen) to y/n pace up and down the upstairs hallway on the phone with whom he could only presume to be Braden.

They had been officially dating for three months, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice that things felt off between the two. He didn’t know what exactly, but something had shifted between y/n and Braden and things weren’t as neat and tidy as before.

He sat at his desk, trying (and failing) to read his book as he listened to y/n and Jack work on his history project downstairs. He was supposed to do a report on a person in history he admired. Aaron had assumed he would pick Abraham Lincoln or the Wright brothers or any other historical figure, but Jack had apparently decided that the most influential person in his world was Dr. John Harvey Keller, who had invented the process of making peanut butter.

An odd choice, but Aaron understood the appeal.

After spending an indeterminate amount of time reading and rereading the same page, he called it quits. Closing his book, he placed it on the desk and began walking downstairs. Maybe at least he could help Jack glue pictures to his poster. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” he said, “I’m halfway there anyway.”

“Okay!” Jack and y/n chorused from the kitchen.

Years at the BAU had made him cautious of unexpected visitors. He double checked for the small revolver he had stashed in the bookcase next to the door. He had always made sure it was nearly above his own reach so Jack could never get to it. Clicking the lock open and taking it from its hiding place in the fake book, he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, keeping a hand on it as he opened the door.

Much to his surprise, it wasn’t a maniacal psychopath at his doorstep.

It was worse.

It was Braden.

His button down shirt and tie had a defeated look about them with his tie loosened and top button undone.Aaron noticed his slacks were wrinkled. He cocked his head to the side and looked Aaron up and down.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed.

Braden pushed his wavy hair out of his eyes and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Is y/n here?” He asked.

Aaron decided to play dumb, pretending that he hadn’t done a background search so thorough he knew exactly what was on Braden’s web browser history.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Braden Casey. I’m y/n’s boyfriend. You must be Aaron?” He extended a hand to Aaron.

“It’s Mr. Hotchner, thank you.” Aaron nodded. He reached forward and reciprocated his handshake. It was firmer than he anticipated it to be, but still weaker than his own.

Braden swallowed.

“Come in,” He said, “I know she’s pretty busy with Jack, but let me see if she can come to the door.”

Braden didn’t move from his spot on the porch.

God He really needed to quit being so antagonistic.

“You really work her hard, don’t you?” Braden said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Can’t even give her a night off to go to a concert with her boyfriend?” Braden said it as if he was trying to be funny, saying it almost jokingly, but there was bitterness to his words.

“Y/n sets her own hours.” Aaron responded sharply. “Maybe you should ask yourself why she wanted to be here instead of with you.”

“Easy old man, I-”

“Braden?” y/n appeared behind him, looking at Braden over Aaron’s shoulder. “What are you doing here? I gave you the address to the house for emergencies, you aren’t supposed to come here when I’m working.”

“I think it’s an emergency when my girlfriend cancels our date to hang out with a 7 year old.” Braden said, crossing his arm.

Aaron saw anger flash in y/n’s eyes. “Okay, you come with me. If you have something to say to me, we’re going to talk about this like adults.” She pushed past Aaron, meeting Braden on the porch and grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the steps of the porch. She looked over her shoulder to Aaron. “Tell Jack I’ll be right back.”

He nodded as she closed the door behind her, placing the gun back to its hiding place and walking into the kitchen to find Jack with a glue stick in hand and paper cutouts of peanuts and Dr. John Harvey Keller stuck to his face. He turned to face Aaron, paper crinkling. “Hey dad! Do you like my pictures?”

Aaron sighed. “They’re great, buddy. I’d like them more if they were on your poster, though.”

Jack rubbed his sticky hands together, grinning at the sound it made. “Do you think I could glue my lips shut?”

Aaron pulled the glue stick from his son’s hand. “Glue is for paper, Jack, not for your skin. I know it’s fun to play with, but you need to use it properly or we can’t use it at all. Do you want to take those pictures off yourself or do you want me to help you?”

Jack began pulling them off one by one. “I can do it. Who was at the door?”

Aaron resisted the urge to sigh once again. “Y/n’s friend, Braden.”

“You mean her boooooyfriend?” Jack said.

“Yes, her boyfriend.” He replied.

“I don’t like him.” Jack winced after a piece of paper that was stuck to his eyebrow came off.

“Why not, buddy?”

“Y/n says he’s really nice but if he’s nice he wouldn’t come to our house and stop y/n from helping me with my homework.” He said matter-of-factly.

Aaron thought about that for a second before nodding in agreement. “I guess that’s fair.”

Jack shrugged. “I wish y/n didn’t have a boyfriend, then she could be here all the time.”

“Jack she’s already here pretty much all the time.”

“She doesn’t sleep here all the time.” Jack said defiantly. “She has a different house she sleeps at. The one where she doesn’t have a bathtub.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, I know you really like her.”

“I love her.” Jack said, smoothing out the pieces of paper he had glued to his face. They were wrinkly, but hopefully would still work.

Aaron just nodded.

“Dad?”

“Yeah buddy.”

“Do you love y/n?” He asked.

Aaron paused, swallowing. His heart ached as he replied, “Yeah Jack, I do.”

He and Jack were working in silence when y/n reappeared, cheeks flushed and eyes watery. Jack was putting the finishing touches on his poster board and was focused on it when Aaron caught y/n’s attention. Are you okay? He mouthed.

She shook her head, looking down.

Aaron cocked his head towards the doorway. Go head upstairs. I’ll get Jack, he mouthed.

She nodded, leaving the kitchen quickly.

“Jack, that looks great,” Aaron said. “I think y/n is super tired and went to bed. Let’s get you to bed too and then we’ll finish it up tomorrow morning.”

Aaron was thankful that Jack went to bed quickly and quietly. He was a smart kid, and clued into the tension that was lingering in the air. After Aaron helped him with scrubbing glue from his face, arms, and hands, he fell asleep right as his head the pillow.

After closing Jack’s door, Aaron found his way in front of y/n’s. He knocked on the door. “Y/n?”

“Come in.”

He eased open the door and found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, clutching a pillow.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hi.” She said.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes? No? I’m not sure.”

“Can I ask what happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but if it would help-”

“I think that would be good. I should talk to someone about all this, I think.” She said.

He didn’t move from his spot by the door. Y/n glanced up towards him. “You can sit down. I won’t make you stand through this.” She sniffed as she patted a spot next to her on the bed. Aaron sat, making sure to keep ample distance between the two of them.

“Have I ever told you that Braden is on a new kick of listening exclusively to classical music?”

He shook his head.

She laughed. There was bitterness in it. “He said that classical and instrumental music makes him feel good. Read about it in some book that it doesn’t distract you like other genres and allows you to focus on being your “best self.” Anything loud and rambunctious sounds like radio static now, apparently.”

Aaron snorted, but said nothing

“I like classical music fine, I just don’t want it to be the only thing I listen to. I am also a hundred percent sure he still listens to all his normal stuff too but he has this weird thing with me where I think he needs to appear like he’s the smartest guy in the room. Classical music really is fine and there are plenty of pieces I like but when I’m with him, that’s all we listen to. Which is fine because he’s comfortable and just fine but what if I said one day that I hate classical music and it sounds like radio static to me? Would he change? Would he listen to the music that I like? Would he drop the stupid act?”

She clutched the pillow tighter, shaking her head. “I like him, I really do, and we get along well, temperament wise. It’s just that our interests are so different and I-” her voice broke and buried her face in the pillow.

“Y/n.” He said.

“What.” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Is this really about classical music?”

She lifted her head, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “No, I guess it isn’t.

He remained silent, staring at his hands resting in his lap.

“I think-” She started, “I think it’s about more than that. I just- he cancels things all the time because a student needs help tutoring or he has a math club meeting or something like that and I am so chill about it. I never lose it and I’m super understanding. But the one time I took a rain check on an orchestra concert I told him I had no interest in going to he comes to your house

and makes me feel like I’m the worst person in the world because I apparently didn’t “consider his feelings” when I consider his feelings all the damn time.” She cringed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just- I don’t think he thinks my work is as important as his and that he somehow needs to prove he’s better than me in some way, even though we literally have the same amount of education and I literally have a published research study on- it doesn’t matter. I- I just - ugh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well. That’s another stupid thing.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He doesn’t want to end things but he wants some time.”

“Like… a break?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“What kind of break?”

“He wants to go no contact for a month. In that month we can date other people and do whatever we like, but if in a month we come back together and we still work, we keep dating.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Aaron couldn’t contain his surprise. “That’s ridiculous.”

“He said it’s to see if we really like each other or if we just haven’t known any different the past few months.”

“Did you agree to it?”

“...I did.”

“Oh.”

“If a month goes by and I still feel the same we can try again. It’s not like we’ll lose our minds and elope if it works out.”

Aaron’s heart dropped into his stomach. He felt a little sick. That was not an image he liked.

“He's-Hotch he is the first guy in ages to treat me decently. He is decent and smart and really good, just a little on the quirky side.”

“Quirky?” Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Is that how you’d describe it?”

“Okay he’s odd and a bit judgemental but I think I should at least try. Don’t you?” She looked exasperated.

“Y/n.” He said, turning to face her. He moved closer.

“What, Hotch?’ She sounded exhausted. She turned to face him.

“You deserve much more than decent.”

She shook her head. “I know. I- I really do know. I'm-”

Aaron interrupted her by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. She stilled, but didn’t pull away.

“You really deserve the best.” Which is definitely not me, he thought cynically. Or your asshole boyfriend.

Her arms found their way around his waist and she squeezed him tight. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’ll be okay. You’re smart and capable and lovely, and if he doesn’t see that then I’ll make his life hell.”

“Don’t go all FBI on his ass.”

“I will if I have to.”

She laughed at that, and drew back. “Thanks, Hotch. You’re the best.”

He shook his head. “Just trying to help.”

/ / /

Two weeks after Y/n and Braden started their “break,” Jack got sick. Not just a little sick with a runny nose, he was seriously sick. Fever, vomit, the whole nine yards, all of it.

And y/n was a wreck.

She wasn’t sick herself. She had told Hotch that years of nannying had fortified her immune system so much she rarely got sick anymore, but she was a wreck in trying to help Jack.

He had missed school that day and y/n had stayed home with him. He had been throwing up anything she tried to feed him, and had a fever so high he was sweating through his pajamas. Even worse, Jack was the most ornery sick kid known to mankind. He was stubborn (a trait y/n claimed he got from his dad) and despite how miserable he felt he didn’t like being coddled or being made to feel like a baby. He fought y/n’s attempts to comfort him and screamed with how achy the fever made him.

She had been sending Hotch updates throughout the day. They had just come off a massive case and he had a boatload of paperwork so huge he couldn’t fathom missing a day, even if it broke his heart to do so. He called Jack during his lunch, and was only met with him being furious that his dad wasn’t home to take care of him. Hotch’s heart equally ached that y/n was alone in the ordeal.

She had carted Jack to the doctor the minute he had thrown up (and he had thrown up all over his bed, to top it off) and had come back with no other instructions than “eh it’s just a stomach bug. Let him ride it out and he’ll be fine.”

He had been forced to work late. It was evening when he drove home. On his drive he received a text. Pulling into the driveway, he glanced at his phone.

YN: I think he’s getting better. Still hates my guts, but it seems like his fever is on its way out.

He thought walking in blind was a bad idea, so he sent her a text from the garage.

AH: I just pulled in. Anything in particular you want me to be aware of?

YN: He’s going to be so happy to see you and also probably wants to kill you. Simultaneously. I think he’d kill moving thing right about now.

AN: Noted.

He walked in the house, setting his things on the counter. Making his way through the living room and up the stairs, he found y/n sitting on the edge of Jack’ bed, with Jack clutching his blankets and looking downright murderous.

“Hey buddy.” Aaron started.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Jack said, folding his arms and turning away from his dad.

He cast a glance at y/n, who gave him an exhausted look. Talk him through what he’s feeling, she mouthed.

“Hey Jack. I’m sorry you’re sick. I know you don’t feel good and that’s never fun.”

Jack shuffled in his bed, folding his arms again with more emphasis, clearly conveying his dissatisfaction.

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t here today. It’s hard being sick at home without your dad here.”

Jack said nothing. Aaron laid his hand on his shoulder and Jack shrugged him off. “Do you want to read a book together? Will that help you feel better?”

Jack shook his head, still keeping quiet. Aaron sighed.

“Jack,” said y/n gently, “you’ve been asking for your dad all day, he’s here now. Are you sure you don’t want to read a story with him?”

Jack threw his covers over his head and burrowed himself into the couch.

Y/n met Aaron’s eyes and gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry. He’ll lighten up as soon as he’s better.”

Aaron nodding, standing to leave. He was at the door when he heard Jack whisper to y/n.

“Kids are supposed to have moms to take care of them when they’re sick.”

Aaron stilled for a moment, but stepped out of the room, lingering just outside of it. Listening.

The pain was evident in y/n’s voice when she replied. “Jack, honey I’m so sorry. I know you miss your mom.”

“I miss my mom a lot,” Jack said. “but I wish I had a mom now. Y/n, why can’t you be my mom?”

“Oh honey, I love you so much, but I can’t.”

Jack wasn’t whispering now. “Why not? Don’t you love my dad? Why can’t you just be my mom then you don’t have to leave?”

Aaron’s breath caught in his throat.

“Jack- I love you and your dad so so much. But I can’t be your mom. You need to sleep sweetheart, that’s what will help you feel better tomorrow.”

“I want to go to sleep by myself.”

“Okay buddy,” she said. “I’ll let you do that. Call for me if you need me, okay.”

Aaron didn’t hear Jack’s reply as he was quickly making his way downstairs, trying to make his way to the couch without y/n figuring out that he had heard everything.

He hadn’t needed to rush, as it was a few minutes before y/n came down the stairs, looking exhausted. She made her way into the living room and wrapped herself in a blanket as she laid down on the couch. Aaron pretended not to notice how glassy her eyes were, as if she were near tears.

“Hotch, do you… do you think it means something?”

He looked at her, a confused look in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He saw her eyes well up with tears as she shook her head. He rushed to her side, kneeling beside the couch. “Hey- hey it’s okay. Does what mean something?”

“I just… I don’t think it was an accident Jack hit me with that frisbee.”

Hotch raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Not that he did it on purpose. It just seems like too big of a coincidence that I found you guys.”

Hotch smiled softly, reaching up to stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, reaching down to wipe her tears from her eyes.

“You’re looking for a nanny and then your son nails one in the head with a frisbee. Seems too perfect.”

He was quiet for a beat. “I guess you could say that. One could say that you’re too perfect.”

She smiled, shaking her head.

“I mean,” he said, “I did see your name on a street sign in the middle of nowhere. That does seem a little too coincidental.”

She let out a tired laugh. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“How?”

“You’re a scorpio. I always get along great with scorpios.”

It was his turn to laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She sat up, saying nothing, and unwrapped herself from the blanket. She patted the spot next to her on the couch. Against his better judgment, he rose from the ground and joined her on the couch. He draped his arm around the back of the couch, and y/n leaned into his side.

They sat like that for a while. He didn’t know how long. Somewhere along the way his arm left the back of the couch and found its way around y/n’s shoulders. Her hands, previously twisting in her lap, had ended up wrapped around his waist and her head resting on his chest.

He knew this about y/n, but once she started crying it was difficult for her to stop. Even if things were just fine and everything was figured out, if tears had been shed they would keep being shed. Weirdly enough, it was one of the things Aaron really liked about her. She had a tender heart that had a hard time turning off. He wished he could relate.

Slow tears continued to roll down her cheeks as they sat together in the silence.

"I can't really explain why i think this all has to mean something" y/n said quietly after a while, "Maybe I'm thinking too much about it, but i can't seem to not think about you."

he paused before replying, thumb rubbing circles on the arm he still had wrapped around her. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but the first time I met you I had a really good feeling about you. Call it a gut feeling, I guess. I don't trust my gut to make decisions for me very often because things usually end up crazy, but I've never doubted, even for a second that you were meant to be here."

A thick quiet coated the room. Too many things he wished he could do, too many things he wished she would say.

“Hotch?” she eventually said.

He hummed in response. She lifted her head to look at him, tears still in her eyes. “I’m really glad you found me.”

Aaron was sure his heart was about to burst. His mouth opened to form a response when he saw y/n’s eyes drop to his lips. His eyes dropped to hers.

When his eyes found their way up to hers, they met him with a look he recognized in himself. It was a look of achingly delicate longing, painted clearly on her expression.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. He wanted to give her as much time as possible to back off or push him away or tell him off if he was so desperately in love with her he had misread the look on her face.

She did quite the opposite, tilting her chin upward and meeting him halfway. His hand came up to cup her face as hers found its way to grip his forearm as his lips found hers.

It was different than he thought it would be. When he thought about (and he thought about it often) he had always imagined his first kiss with her would be fast, desperate, or so undeniably passionate that he would immediately lose all control of himself.

This was infinitely better, he decided. It was soft and slow and tender and achingly sweet. As her lips slanted over his, he found himself turning towards her, guiding her legs over his lap as his arms found his way around her waist. Her hands came up to rest on both sides of his face as she sighed into his mouth.

Yes, much better. He concluded that this kind of kissing was his favorite. He wasn’t rushed or frantic. They were both exhausted, and had fallen together slowly, comfortably, and he had such a warm, cozy feeling in his chest and in his head and he didn’t know how he had gone this long without kissing her. Hell, he wasn’t sure how he was ever going to stop.

When he did eventually stop, he pulled away gently, y/n’s hands still framing his face. He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her into a close embrace. Her head found its way into the crook of his neck.

“I’m even more glad you found us,” He said.

He felt y/n smile as she pressed a chaste kiss to his neck. They sat like that for awhile until he felt her relax against him and her breathing slowed. She had fallen asleep.

Aaron sat up from the couch, y/n still in his arms. He carried her up to the guest room and laid her gently in the bed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he tucked her in the blankets.

“Practically perfect in every way. Garcia was right.”

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@strangunddurm

@realdirectionx

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x fem!reader #hotch #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner imagine #agent hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #bau family #jack hotchner

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 2 years

Text

Love is all you need

Love is all you need (Caring BAU!Reader pt 1)

Idea: Being the youngest in the bau but the caring concerned one of the team. Getting Reid to drink water throughout the day. Giving Hotch your noise cancelling headphones when you first notice his ears bugging him after the explosion. Staying with Penelope after she gets hurt, etc.

Requested: Nope. @halloween-is-my-nationality This was not the spencer idea I had that I said I would write. I have three more already in my drafts, but I thought you would appreciate this.

Author’s Note: I’m working my first 12 hr night shift tomorrow. Please give me strength. I’m not the best at making titles. I really want to make a pt 2 for the rest of the members, but these were the ideas I had initially. Tell me if you want a pt 2/what scenes I could use. Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new.

Warning: Spoilers based on episodes (I think through mid season 3. The spoilers are in Hotch and Penelope’s part). Mentions of shooting, being shot, and injuries.

Word Count: 1,605

It may have been your previous job as a psychiatric nurse and your love for sherlock and crime stuff that led you to your current job in the BAU, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. However, the nurse in you still has learned to always be prepared for any situation. Carry extra bandages, ibuprofen, a jacket, pants, extra anything in case something happens or you can't find what you need when you need it. If you didn't have what you needed, you made it work with what you had. You were no different when you joined the BAU. You most likely had whatever anyone on the team needed at any time. You only did this kind of behavior for those you cared about and the BAU became your extended family very quickly. Since you all delt with psychotic killers, there needed some support system that could truly help keep your heads above water during the times when you’re not working. The BAU family was very good at looking out for their own. Therefore, this was your way of paying them back.

Of course you had your to-go duffel bag for cases, but you kept anything extra that may be needed in a backpack you kept with you most of the time (well, anything except sensitive documentation that anyone can steal at any time and weapons, but extra knives and other things you still had on you). You always made sure to have your bag either in the SUV, at the police station, or on your back. It was something you never went anywhere without. Some could call it possessive, but you liked being prepared to care for those who took care of you.

How you would help the team was a little challenging. You were all profilers, you were ment to look for behaviors and interpret them into results. You knew of the unspoken rule profilers is to not profile eachother, however, they can forget that they have their own obvious behaviors that you've picked up, if something is going on.

For instance, caffeine was a necessity to you all, with the crazy hours and multiple time zone flights that you all worked, how could it not be. However, you saw that Spencer would drown himself in coffee and get frequent headaches when he tried to focus on the case throughout the day. That's when you decided to intervene. When you saw his coffee cup empty at one point you offered to get a refill for the both of you. But instead of coming back with coffee, you came back with two ice waters in those tall cups. You thought it may make him feel better and less secluded if you followed the habit you were trying to get him into.

"Y/n, this is not coffee." God he is so cute when he not trying to be.

"I know. You don't get anymore coffee until you drink two of those." You could hear Emily snicker from her desk as you sat back at yours across from Spencer. It was the middle of the day, you were both awake enough to not need anymore caffeine for a while.

"You know I can give you facts and statistics of how caffeine helps performance?" He's trying to get out of this one with logic. Not today pretty boy. You leaned in as not to yell and looked in his caramel chocolate eyes. Derek may be a hunk of dark chocolate, but I prefer those caramel chocolate eyes that you could swim in for hours endlessly. Focus.

"You know I can see the symptoms of your headaches as evidence by your frequent eye squints and head holding related to your dehydration from the diuretic effects of the caffeine." He stares at me mouth open, lost for words for once. I broke the eye contact with him trying to be nice about the situation. "I'm just trying to take care of you and make sure your okay." Even if I did whisper that part, I'm pretty sure he could hear me.

"You're right. I need to drink more water." Spender said as he took a sip of the water I just gave him and then went back to doing his paperwork. Never would I thought I'd live to the day where Dr. Spencer Reid said I was right.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time it happened, you've fully realized you've become the prepared mom of the team. It was the case after the almost terrorist attack where Hotch was really close to that car explosion. I honestly didn't know how he didn't become deaf Hawkeye being that close to it. You saw that he kept putting his head in his hands like he had a headache, but you knew Hotch drank water and was very on top of his health, so it wasn't that. The moment where it clicked in your mind that his ears were bothering him, was when a gun was fired next to his head toward the end of that case. He covered his ears and buried his head into your body in pain as the rest of the team took care of the unsub.

"Spence. Go to the car and get me my backpack."

Having a trust that you knew what to do in these situations, Spencer didn't question you. He went and got your backpack from the car and brought it back to where you were on the ground with Hotch curled in your arms crying in pain. You looked at the rest of the team handling the sceen so you can stop being in FBI-agent-mode. You unzipped your backpack with one arm and pulled out your construction headphones that you use when you need to focus or block out the world. However, Hotch needs it more than you right now.

You put them on over his ears and you sat there for 10 minutes at least with his head in your shoulder and you stroking his hair to keep his mind off of the pain he must be feeling.

You shooed everyone else off to finish up at the crime scene and so Aaron wouldn't have to lift his head to see his whole team/family staring at him. You knew he wouldn't like the attention.

He raised his head and gave you a nod saying 'thank you' and that the pain was starting to subside.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck that dude!” That basically summarized it all. Fuck the dude who dared to shoot the ray of sunshine that was Penelope Garcia. Like I understand that he shot her because she was going to expose the dirty work he was doing, but still fuck him. You were with Penelope and Spencer watching the cameras of the BAU when that idiot of a guy thought he could hold up the FBI with a pistol. This is literally the place where everyone is trained in guns, fighting, and reading the mind and body language of a person. Like, how bad of an idiot could you be. To be fair, the only thing I admired about him was willing to go down with his ship. He deserved the bullets JJ put in him. The fact that he is dead is the only good thing that happened for Penelope. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about him getting out on parole or anything, even if there was plenty of evidence that would probably get him life behind bars.

For the next few weeks you refused to be anywhere else besides next to Penelope. She even suggested you go home or to work, so did Hotch. You still refused. You stayed at her house because you know how going back to the scene where something tragic happened could trigger bad memories in someone. You stayed at the BAU in the Batcave while the rest of the team did the field work on cases and you slept at Penelope’s appartment. “Y/n I’m fine. You don’t have to be by my side anymore. As much as you know I love you, you don’t have to be here.”

“This is my last case I will be sitting back from. From here out I will be going with the team for the field work. I just wanted to stick around and make sure you are doing ok. There’s only so much work you can bury yourself in, and only so many sparkly inanimate objects you can talk to.” I looked up at her while her body still faced her screens, and she was crying silently. Tears streaked down and dragged the purple eyeshadow she had on with it. She tucked her head into the crook of my shoulder and hugged me with everything she had. God you never want anything bad to happen to her. She is too pure for this world.

“Thank you for staying here with me, for staying at my place. I don’t think I would be this comfortable existing again so soon after it happened without you being here for all the breakdowns, scared moments, flashbacks, and adjustments.” You ran your fingers through her hair getting out all the tangles as well as calming her.

“Don’t let your opinion of men who will be with you stoop to that level. Your man will treat you like the queen you are. Keep on believing that.” You both stayed like that the rest of the evening until you packed up for Penelope’s apartment.

Something no criminal or incident could ever take away from you. Your love and care you have for your team members as you navigate the craziness that is your lives.

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #agent hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #arron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #penelope garcia #penelope criminal mind #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds family #bau #bau!reader #bau family #criminal minds fanfiction

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reiderwriter · 8 months

Text

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: SMUT, fluff, MINORS DNI 18+

Word count:..... 12k...

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to lead you to his bed every night of the week.

Warnings: So many 💀, oral (M and F receiving), public sex multiple times, multiple creampies, protection never mentioned, fingering, car sex, alcohol consumption, pet names, degradation, sir kink I think at some point, choking, mentions of spit and other bodily fluids, I'm sure there are more, too.

A/N: Well. Here it is. Big thank you to Jungkook for releasing the song that gave me this fic idea that I was fully convinced was just going to be a nice little song about the number seven. Here's my masterlist, and my requests and asks are open if you want to shout at me for writing 12,000 words of filth! Settle down somewhere comfy for this one 💀 Song inspo:

Monday

The jet was calm and quiet with just the two of you on it as you stretched yourself out over the seats, desperate to find a comfortable position to curl up in and find some sleep. You had been out the entire weekend on a death-row interview, and after three days of dealing with high security prison inmates and their guards, you were feeling a bit restless. You hated the feeling of being cooped up in there, even if you knew you’d be getting out eventually.

You were just thankful that they’d sent you in the jet, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine driving back right now. And as your only company was Reid, who wasn’t a fan of driving himself, especially over such long distances, it would have been a crappy end to an even crappier weekend. You looked up at the man now, and realised he was also trying his best to fall asleep, but he had a tense look on his face, and he was shifting in his seat, unable to get comfortable.

“Can’t sleep either?” you asked him, finally accepting that you probably weren’t going to get any relief any time soon. His eyes shot open, and he looked at you, finally registering that it was you that had spoken to him and not some figment of his imagination.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said, and looked away, letting the silence fall over you again.

“Do you want to maybe play cards or something?” you asked hopefully, desperate to find something to do for the last hour of your flight. From everything you’d learned about the man opposite you in your six months as a member of the BAU, you knew it probably wasn’t a good idea challenging him. But between being absolutely destroyed at cards and being caught in the discomfort of exhaustion with no ability to sleep, you’d choose the card games any day.

Besides, you could do with learning a little bit more about your coworker anyway. Despite earning your place on the team, and befriending most of the others pretty easily, Reid had always seemed a bit standoffish to you. He was always polite, of course, but the others had warned you that he didn’t take well to change, and your addition to the team was a pretty notable change in your team dynamic.

You were now the youngest member of the team, and you’d been trained in press liaising as a part of your training at the academy, so you took on a different role from the others to allow JJ to get out into the field more now that she was officially an agent. It wasn’t that you thought he disliked you, it was just that he needed to get used to you. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself.

It was why you were on the jet in the first palace, having asked Hotch for the opportunity to shadow Reid while he was working on the interview. He’d given you a look when you lied that it was to gain more experience, but he didn’t have anything against you trying to get Reid to warm up to you a little bit more, so he didn’t complain, and let the two of you go. But you hadn’t realised just how busy you would be with the work, and you hadn’t exactly become the best of friends either.

“You don’t want to play cards with me, Y/N,” he replied coolly, not even looking at you.

“Emily said you usually try to swindle people when you first play cards with them, why aren’t you trying that with me?” you asked, growing a little frustrated that your attempts were being blocked. It’d been the same when you’d invited him out for a drink the night before, and when you’d asked if he wanted to share a takeout in your hotel room the night before that. Polite rejections and the feeling of incompetence that left you wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“You’re too innocent for me to swindle, Y/N. It’d be too easy.”

“That’s pretty arrogant, don’t you think?” As a last ditch attempt to get him to bite, you thought insulting him couldn’t possibly hurt.

“Shit, okay, one game, the cards are in the cupboard over there.” He acquiesced and nodded behind him to the small kitchenette at the end of the jet.

“Why do I have to grab them, you’re closer?” you pouted a little bit, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away again.

“You’re the one who wanted to play,” he grumbled. Rolling your eyes you threw off the blanket you’d wrapped around yourself and stumbled over to grab the cards.

On your way back however, the plane lurched to the side and you stumbled, dropping the cards everywhere and falling straight into the lap of Doctor Spencer Reid. He tried to catch you in his arms, but you’re position made it difficult for him to help you further. Having fallen face first, your torso was now pressed into the seat next to him, the rest of your body bent over his knee as if he were getting ready to spank you any minute.

One of his hands was pinned under your body weight, and the other that had come out to steady you was gripping dangerously close to your chest, not exactly helping with the mental images you were already fighting.

“Shit, I’m sorry I think we hit some turbulence,” you winced and tried to standup, and he groaned at the loss of contact as you moved.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he let out the curse as you stood up, but you weren’t upright for long before your legs gave out underneath you, another lurch from the plane depositing you directly into his lap, your legs straddling either side of his and your chest pressed up against his. This closer position allowed you to feel more of him pressed against you, and your eyes widened in realisation.

“Fuck, Spencer are you hard right now?” You groaned from on top of him, stilled by the realisaton. He scowled at you, again, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, it’s just been a long weekend, and I couldn’t…” he let out a frustrated sigh and you waited for him to continue, suddenly not so eager to get out of the embarrassing position.

“Have you been hard this entire time? Shit, that’s why you didn’t want to grab the playing cards, didn’t want me to see you like that, right?” you could hear the grin in your voice, and you knew you were being risky but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Shut up, Y/L/N, I really don’t need this right now,” he groaned out again, but made no move to push you off.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I know what you need right now.”

“Don’t fucking tease, Y/N, I’m serious. Let’s just pretend that this never happened, okay?” His mouth was saying one thing, but you were pretty sure from the hands that were gripping your hips now that he wasn’t exactly being the most honest with himself in that moment.

“What if I…. helped you out?” you whispered it out almost silently, and Reid’s eyes snapped open to look at you.

“Don’t joke with me right now, Y/N, it isn’t funny and it isn’t cute.”

“I’m not joking.” Your eyes locked and you didn’t say anything else, content to watch him wage a war in his own mind, curious about which side would win.

“Get on your knees,” he said eventually, and you did, climbing out of his lap and kneeling next to his seat, your heart-beating out of your chest now. “Good girl.”

The heat pooled between your legs with those words, and you let out a small whimper as he popped the button on his pants. He pulled out his dick and you stared at it in wonder. You could see the precum shining on his tip as he gave it a few preliminary pumps, his mouth open as he finally found some relief.

You slid your hands up his legs and rested them on his thighs, watching his face and ready to pounce on him the moment he gave you the word.

“Look at you, desperate little whore. You want to suck me off that bad, baby?” he crooned at you, and you found yourself unable to answer.

“Bet you’ve been trying to do this all weekend. Trying to get me back to that hotel room of yours, trying to get me to drink with you, when what you really wanted was for me to stuff my cock down your throat, right?”

It was taking all of your willpower to not just reach your tongue out and lick your way up his shaft, now, your body practically begging for you to touch him.

“Well, go ahead princess. Go ahead and show me what a needy little whore you are.” You waited for no further instruction, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and your tongue around the tip.

You played with it for a few seconds, giving him a few strokes while you waited to see his reactions. He grabbed a fist of your hair, making sure to push it away from your face so he could see exactly what you were doing at all times. With that, you started pushing your head down on more and more of him, seeing how far you could manage to get before hitting the back of your throat.

When you hit your max, you pulled off of him and did it again, starting to pick up pace as you worked your hands over the few inches that couldnt fit.

“Fuck that’s it, princess, just like that.” He moaned, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

You bobbed your head up and down on him now, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each noise he let out.

“Sucking me off right here on the jet, such a little slut, aren’t you?” he said down at you and you couldn’t help the moan you let out around his cock, the vibrations causing him to tighten his grip on your hair and hiss out a curse.

“That’s it keep going, just like that baby,” he whispered, his hand now starting to push you down a little further on his dick each time, his head thrown back in ecstasy. You knew he was getting close, and you were desperate to feel his cum down your throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby, just like that keep going.” The muscles in his legs were tense under your hand as you pushed your head down right to the base of his cock, stretching yourself past your limits and breathing him in deeply. After that, it was only a few more seconds until you could feel the hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat.

You looked up at him through his orgasm, and you swore it was the best view you’d seen before in your life. His mouth was open in a moan, and the hand that wasn’t controlling your movements was raked through his own tousled locks.

Eventually, he pulled you off of him, and you swallowed the remaining cum still inside your mouth, going as far as to catch the few drops spilling out with your fingertips and delicately lick it off, knowing he was back to watching your every move.

He pulled you up to a standing position, his eyes still locked on yours, and you could see he was getting ready to give you another instruction, to use you again to find his own pleasure. Before he had the chance though, an announcement on the PA system had him jumping as far away from you as possible.

“Hey, sorry about that earlier turbulence folks. We’re about ten minutes out of Quantico, so we’re about to descend. You know the drill, seatbelts, please.” The pilot was off the line as quickly as he came on it, and you were left in silence once more.

Fumbling with his pants, Reid put himself together again before guiding you into your seat and taking up his place again in the seat opposite.

“I didn’t mean for it to end like this, shit we don’t have time for me to return the favor…” he seemed apologetic about that and you were finally snapped out of your daze.

“Reid, you really don’t have to do that… I just helped you out a little, is all.”

“No, I’m going to pay you back for this. I swear.” And there it was again, the pounding of your heart as he looked at you like that. You unintentionally clenched around nothing, your frustration almost doubling knowing there could’ve been more if you’d had more time.

“Feel free to say no, of course, but how do you feel about making this a regular thing?” you asked, your voice low, trying not to reveal how desperate you were to be under him right now, certain it would put him off.

“Like a… friends with benefits, thing?” He asked, his head perking up in curiosity.

“Yeah. If you want.” You gulped down. “Obviously, you can say no. We’re coworkers, so it could become weird, but it could also be really convenient to have someone on cases to help you out if you’re ever, you know…”

“Y/N, you’re rambling,” he smiled at you.

“I know, I really want you to say yes,” you admitted then immediately cursed your lack of filter.

“Yes.” He said. And that was that.

Tuesday

To say that stepping off of the jet had bought you back down to reality would be an understatement. After parting from Spencer with a terse wave and a strained smile, you’d spent your entire commute home thinking you’d just fucked up in the most major way possible.

As far as you could tell, the man didn’t even like being in your company and was just okay with you being his coworker, and then you’d suggested you give him a blow job on government property? Yeah, you were insane. That was the only possible explanation.

Needless to say, you got no sleep that night. You could only imagine how shitty you looked dragging yourself into the bullpen the next morning, coffee in hand and twitching like a rabbit that knew it was being followed by a wolf.

“God, Y/N, you look like you’ve been through hell and back. I thought you and Reid only went for an inmate interview?” Emily questioned you as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Yeah, yeah, it was okay,” you squeaked out, not quite adept at hiding your emotions just yet. “I just didn’t get much sleep is all. Shitty hotel beds, you know?” You smiled at her, and she nodded from experience.

“Oh, tell me about it, this one time I was sharing a room with JJ and the metal springs in the mattress we’re just sticking out the top. It’s a miracle these places make any money.”

“Well, they always have FBI Agents blasting through desperate for a room, I guess,” you joked with her half-heartedly, still feeling the tension in the room.

“What are you guys talking about?” He creeps up behind you to join the conversation, but you know it’s him. You turn around and finally get a look at him. Reid stood there, looking relaxed, with a small smirk on his face. His hands in his pants pockets, leaned back against Emily’s desk next to his, effectively cutting off your route to your own desk behind him.

“Y/N was telling me about the crappy motel you guys got lumped in this weekend. Bummer right?”

“I don’t know, I slept just fine. You do look a little tense, Y/N,” he looked at you again, and you couldn’t help the glare you shot at him. He was messing with you. The fucker was actually messing with you.

“I must’ve just pulled the short straw.” You send him a strained smile, trying to end the conversation there.

“You should’ve said something about it on the jet, I would’ve let you rest instead.” You freeze then. Surely he wasn’t going to reveal to the entire office, or at least to Emily, what the two of you did on the jet.

“You didn’t have to play cards with me, you know. I know how exhausting it can be to keep up with me. I have pretty good stamina.” This time you didn’t hold back and you did shoot daggers at him, which only achieved bringing him one step closer to laughter.

“Ooh, rookie mistake. Don’t play with Reid, Y/N, he’ll take you for all you’re worth.” Emily shot back before making her way to the kitchen area, content with the advice she had given.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” You mumbled, eyes still locked with Reid’s as you made to push past him. His hand brushed yours as you did, and you almost jumped at the contact. God, why was he doing this to you. Up until yesterday, he hadn’t ever bothered to even look in your direction, and now he was making you dizzy at work and you didn’t know how to deal with it.

The rest of the day you did your best to ignore him, and you really had to try. Everytime you went to grab yourself another drink, he’d trail along behind you, leaving you to make a U-turn to ask Morgan or Prentiss questions instead. If you went to get some files, he’d do the same, and you found yourself grabbing the wrong files in your haste to avoid talking to him again.

It was a ridiculous game of cat and mouse, and you knew that eventually he would catch up to you, and then you would have to come face to face with the man who had consumed your thoughts for the last 24 hours. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if it was dread you were feeling or anticipation.

In the end, he resorted to a more direct method that you couldn’t ignore.

“Hey, Y/N, I need to discuss some of the files from this weekends interview, do you have five minutes?” he said it loud enough for those around you to hear, so there was no escape. You took a deep breath and acquiesced,

“Great, let’s go grab the files and we can get started.” From all your self-defence training, you knew you should never let your assailant get you to a secondary location, but with him, you knew there was no escape. You let him guide you to the storage room, not even bothering to make small talk on the way down.

The door wasn’t even closed before he turned on you and started talking.

“If yesterday was bad for you, then we don’t have to ever do it again, but if you keep ignoring me like that, they’re going to realise that something is wrong.”

“Take a second to think about why I’m ignoring you, Reid. You’ve practically been on top of me all day, I can’t think when you’re around and I have work to do,” you whisper shout at him, even though theres no one in the file room he’s pulled you into.

“I wasn’t on top of you, I’d have enjoyed it very much had I been on top of you. Instead, I’ve been trailing behind you because you won’t talk to me.” He replied, shoulders lifting to his ears in his defense.

“Do you not want to do this anymore?” he asked you and you took in a sharp inhale of breath. He was giving you an out. You logically knew that you should take it, push down whatever it was you were feeling and pretend like yesterday had never happened. But all thoughts of doing just that left your head as he moved one step closer to you.

“Spencer…” you whispered into the room, as he moved closer still, eventually coming to cage you in against the wall.

“Do you really not want me to repay you?” he moved his hands down your body, a ghost of a touch really, not at all enough for what you wanted and getting nowhere near where you needed.

“Spencer, we shouldn’t be doing this at work. What if someone comes down here?”

“Doing what? I’m just asking you a question.” He gripped your thighs and pulled you again him, and you could feel the length of him against your stomach. “And besides, that didn’t matter to you yesterday.”

“Fuck, Spencer…” you groaned out, screwing your eyes shut. He trailed his hands further still and they finally found your ass over your skirt.

“I felt just as unsure about this earlier, you know. Thought it was going to create a weird tension in the office. Then you walked in this morning, wearing this skirt and suddenly I didn’t care. Just needed to have you.” He pulls your leg up, pressing his in between your thighs before you can think of closing your legs in modesty.

“I just want to feel you, will you let me do that?” He whispers against your skin and you whimper as his lips ghost over you.

“Yes, yes Spencer, please…” your brain shuts off and you give in, and suddenly he has your skirt around your waist and you tights and panties aorund your ankles in what seems like only a flash of a second.

“So fucking perfect and obedient for me, aren’t you, pet?” You whimper as he trails a finger along your sensitive clit, and you twitch as he begins his movements, rubbing slow circles into you.

“Fuck, look at you, clenching around nothing. I was just going to come in here and make you cum on my fingers but you’re begging to be filled, aren’t you, Princess?” He murmurs finally pushing on finger into you as he continues to to rub your clit with his thumb. You bury your head into his shoulder and try your best to muffle the disgusting moans dripping from your mouth as you plead with your coworker.

“What was that, pet? You’re going to have to say it a bit louder, I can’t hear you?” He picks up his pace and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your face.

“Fuck me. Please, Reid.” Not removing his hand from between your legs, he unbuttons his pants and you see his cock again for the second time in two days. You can’t believe you managed to get the entire thing down your throat yesterday. You stare at him with lust-clouded eyes, begging him silently.

“I haven’t got a condom, princess. Are you on the pill?” He asks, giving himself a few terse strokes, too far from your reach to help out. You nod vigorously, unable to form actual words now and not trusting yourself to keep quiet as your anticipation builds.

“Perfect baby, now relax and I’ll take care of you, okay?” He gently pulled his hand away from your core, quickly replacing it with his pulsating cock, pushing in slowly and deep.

“So tight for me, baby, you feel amazing.” He pauses for a second to allow you to adjust to his size, but all too soon he’s hammering into you, not caring to control his speed or his strength, just using you like he’s a man delirious with lust and you love it.

You clutch his shirt, and with each and every thrust you scream a little bit, unable to hold yourself back from the pleasure thats ripping through you. You’re making so much noise that after a few minutes, he brings a hand to your mouth, closing it over you and effectively cutting off any noises you make from escaping.

“You need to be quiet, honey, as much as I want to hear you, we don’t need anyone to come around here asking questions.” But you’re too far gone to care, your judgement too clouded, your head and body too full of him and what he’s doing to you to care at all who knows about it. You know he’s right, but you just keep moaning into his hand until finally, your body can’t take the stimulation anymore and you feel yourself tip over the edge, tightening around him as you ride out your high.

“Fuck, that’s it princess, I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” He says and you use what feels like the last of your strength to nod as you feel him shoot his load inside of you.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay joined there, but the post-sex clarity hits you like a tonne of bricks again as he pulls out and you genuinely start questioning your sanity as he cleans you up and pulls your panties back up into the right position.

“Shit Spencer, we can’t do that again,” you say. “What if someone had caught us?”

“Don’t say that as if you weren’t just turned on by the very thought of that happening,” he shot back. “But yes, we’re going to need some rules if we’re going to keep this up.” You nod at him, and the two of you make for the exit of the room, aware that you’d already been away for suspiciously long.

Luckily, your teammates are all too busy to notice that neither of you return with the files you went to look for.

Wednesday

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but you were tired so it took you a few minutes to cross your apartment to reach the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to greet you there at 9pm on a wednesday evening, but it sure as hell wasn’t Spencer Reid, looking a little damp from the rain.

“I’m glad you’re home. I thought you would be considering you told Penelope you had no plans when you left earlier, but there was always the possibility that you wouldn’t be and then I would be stuck out here in the rain again and I wouldn’t get to see you and I really needed to see you.” He got the jumble of words out as quickly as he could, not even leaving you enough time to say hello before he was rambling.

“Spencer, slow down. What are you doing here?” You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Truthfully, you’d spent the last half an hour doing your best not to fall asleep on your couch as you tried to get some reading in, so you weren't exactly the best prepared for guests. You’d rid yourself of your work clothes as soon as you reached your house, the discarded clothes still laying in a pile in your bedroom, and you’d changed into an oversized t-shirt you’d bought a few years ago that was becoming a bit threadbare with constant use.

“I thought we could talk.” He said and offered no further explanation. It was cold and you wrapped your arms around yourself, but the door was letting in the cold breeze that accompanied the rain so you moved aside and gestured for him to make himself at home.

He took stock of your apartment as he walked in and you felt so exposed as he started taking everything in. He was a profiler, a really good one at that, and he was looking now at your bookshelves, the pictures around your apartment, the little trinkets you’d collected over the years. You should have been squirming under the surveillance of it all, but you almost wanted to show him around, talk him through it all and show you every part of you that he hadn’t seen yet. God, you must’ve been crazy.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you asked, returning to your seat on your couch and gesturing for Reid to sit down, too. He took up a chair on the opposite side of the room, sitting only on the edge of the seat, body tense and shoulders set in a tight line.

“Us. I thought it’d be best if we set some… ground rules you know. After yesterday and the jet…” you sat up then, too and tried not to avoid looking at the mirror you knew was on your shelf, knowing that all you’d see was the crimson staining your face and wondering what he would learn from that.

“Yeah… Yeah of course, we should talk about that. That sounds… smart, I think.”

“I did some research, and apparently we should start with setting boundaries. Things we won’t do, things that would make this easier for us.”

“Right, what kind of… boundaries were you thinking?” Your heart was beating out of your chest waiting for him to continue. The sex between you was so easy that you forgot that neither of you was the best at communicating with the other, that your brain seemed to switch off in his presence and refused to turn itself back on until you’d ended up underneath him.

“There are certain things I won’t do in the bedroom. I don’t like being choked and I don’t…” he trailed off, his face going bright red, “I don’t like not being in control.” He finally finished, looking very shy for a man who just admitted that he took an exclusively dominant role in the bedroom.

“That’s fine with me. Just for the sake of transparency, I’m okay with that. Choking that is. And not being dominant.” You tripped over your words, trying to convey your meaning.

“Great, that’s totally great.” You sat there in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Is there anything you won’t do?”

“Oh right,” you thought about it for a few seconds and then gave him your reply. “As exciting as that was yesterday, I think we shouldn’t be doing that in the office again. I’m not… against public sex, but I’d prefer not to get arrested for public indecency by one of our colleagues.”

He nodded vigorously and looked like he was about to say something else, but you continued.

“Other than that, I’m pretty open. No threesomes though,” You blushed, trying to find the right words to use. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t really want to share you.”

“That’s a good point. We should be exclusive for however long we do this for. The increased risk of attaining a sexually transmitted disease when actively engaging with two or more sexual partners is around 11%, so it’d be safer for us both to just use each other.”

The way he said it was so clinical that you almost flinched, but he didn’t notice your reaction and kept going.

“Is that everything? No other objections?” You thought on his question for a few minutes, and then shook your head.

“Nothing I can think of, but maybe we should keep checking in? Just in case, you know.”

“Yeah, communication is really important in relationships.” He paused for a second, as if realising what he said. “Not that this is a relationship, in the traditional sense, but every human connection can be described as a relationship, so I guess this is a relationship as well. You know what I mean.” You laughed a little at him then, his over-explaination relaxing you a bit, glad you weren’t the only one who was finding this situation unavoidably awkward.

“Spencer, calm down, I understand. Is that all you wanted to discuss?” You look at him with a smile, crossing and uncrossing your legs on the couch, finally falling back into a comfortable position. His eyes trailed down to your legs then, finally taking in your appearance. He raked his eyes up your bare legs, your t-shirt barely hitting the tops of your thighs, his gaze lingering there for a few seconds before he forced himself to meet your eyes again.

“I never did get to pay you back for your help, you know?” He licked his lips, and you felt your pussy clench in anticipation. If this was how you reacted to a simple question, you were well and truly fucked if you thought you’d ever be able to function correctly with him around.

“I said you didn’t have to, remember?” You tried to keep your voice even and low, but your body was alert in anticipation now

“But I want to. Will you let me?” He asked, finally moving himself off of the chair and walking over to you. He knelt at your feet and ran his hands up your still crossed legs, grabbing them and gently coaxing them open.

“Please, princess, let me show you my appreciation.” he begged you and you nodded, giving in so easily to his pleas.

“Use your words.” He said, still letting you know who was in control of this situation, even if he was below you right now.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, you can do it.” His hands were trailing up the inside of your leg now, sending goosebumps up your arms, and growing the pit of desire that was burning for him.

“Do what? You need to tell me exactly what you want, right princess? Isn’t that what we discussed?” He placed a chaste kiss to your knee now and your body was begging you to just twine your hands in his hair and press him between your legs.

“Spencer, please use your tongue and make me cum,” you begged him, and his hands instantly moved to pull your panties down. Once he’d rid you of the garments, he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you into him, spreading your legs apart and finally looking at you.

“This wet for me already, princess?” he smiled up at you, a devastatingly sweet smile from his devilish position. You whimpered slightly and he finally, finally lowered his head, extending his tongue and taking his first swipe at your core.

You grabbed at his hair then, but he pulled away, grabbed your hands and pinned them at either side at you with his own and then went down again, beginning to lick and suck at your centre once more.

When he reached your centre, it was all you could do not to buck up into his face, involuntarily fighting his grip so you could get closer still to his tongue, feel even more friction as he drew small circles, before closing his entire mouth around it and giving you all the attention you had been craving since your interruption two days ago.

You knew from your experience in the file room that Spencer was somewhat naturally gifted in the bedroom, but you put that mostly down to the fact that he was a good size and had pretty notable stamina. But now you realised he was probably the best you were ever going to get. Most men you’d been with hadn’t even wanted to entertain the idea of giving you head, let alone begged you for the opportunity and then drinking you in like you were the last drop of water in the desert and he was a man parched with thirst.

You writhed and moaned into him, feeling your orgasm gain on you as you felt his pace pick up. Looking down at him and catching his eye was the last thing you could do before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, the smile in his eyes so bright, enjoying having you on his tongue so much that you couldn’t handle it anymore.

He didn’t pull off of you immediately, letting you ride his face through your orgasm, your thighs squeazing him slightly before he let go of his grip on your hands and pulled himself away from you. You gasped for breath on the sofa, still softly twitching in pleasure, as he lifted himself off the ground.

“You did so good, princess,” he said patting your head, and you became instantly aware of the painful erection he was sporting through his pants, face to face with it now he was standing up. You opened your mouth, readying yourself to ask for more of him when you heard a phone ring from the other side of the room.

You didn’t recognise the ringtone, but it seemed like Reid did, as he dropped a curse and quickly moved himself back to the chair he’d previously occupied and picked it up quickly.

“Hotch, what is it?” Spencer murmured into the line, and with that you knew you weren’t getting anything else that night. After a short conversation, Reid hung up, and turned to you again.

“We’ve got a case. You’ll probably get the call in a few minutes. We didn’t discuss this earlier, but it’s best if no one else finds out about this.” He said, gathering all of his things, as you covered yourself again. You made to pull your panties up your legs again, but he got to them first.

“No, these are mine now.” He said, so confidently that you just nodded, slightly dumbfounded, and did your best to not pull him back over you again. You were seriously contemplating it, seeing how quickly you could make him cum when another phone rang, and you recognised it as your own.

He petted your hair again, grabbed the last of his things and stuffed your panties inside of his jacket pocket, and said a final goodnight, leaving you to answer the phone alone in your apartment. You sat there subdued in the moment as you realised you were in love with the man, and couldn’t do a thing about it.

You were in love with him, and he hadn’t even once kissed you.

Thursday

Alaska. The case had taken you all the way to Alaska, and you were suddenly desperate to get back to the rain you’d left behind in Virginia. You were cold and the wetness had seeped into your body from the day traipsing around the dumpsite of your newest unsub and your motel room was cold and you were miserable.

Your motel was small, but still large enough to afford each of you your own room, considering there was no one else passing through town at this time of the year, so you didn’t feel bad about turning your light back on at 2am and grabbing the book off your nightstand, hoping it would help lull you to sleep.

Not even five words into the page, a quiet knock interrupted the unending quiet, faint but recognisable from when he’d knocked on your door only the previous night. Your heart raced as you moved to the door and you opened it for him quickly.

“Hi,” you said as you saw him there, looking just as cold as you felt.

“Hey. My room was cold, and I saw your light on…” he whispered, letting his voice trail off. You opened the door for him and he came in quickly, not waiting to risk anyone seeing the two of you, even if it was the middle of the night.

“Yeah, it’s not just you. I’m one cool draft away from piling all of my luggage over me and hoping it helps me warm up. You’d think they’d have extra blankets or something.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did, I saw Prentiss walking up to her room with a pile earlier,” he laughed and you laughed with him, his smile infectious and the temperature leaving you deliriously sleepy.

“You know, we could probably get warm if we got in together,” he suggested, and before he could explain the science behind it, you jumped at the idea.

“Yes, please, I’m willing to try anything right now.” You dove back under the covers, still wrapped in your fluffy pajamas, lifting up the covers to let him under too. He climbed in after you, and for a second you were wondering if he was just going to lie beside you for a while and then leave when he was warm enough. He quashed those thoughts the second he put his head on the pillow next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, holding you as if you were a teddy bear.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth as his breath tickled the back of your neck, huddling closer into him until your legs were tangled and your chests were flush against each other.

“Stop giggling and get some sleep,” he whispered down at you through a smile, his eyes closed, unaware of the look of adoration you couldn’t wipe from your face.

“You know if we really wanted to huddle for warmth, skin-to-skin contact would be much more effective,” you teased him, and he groaned into you, gripping you that much tighter.

“Do not tempt me, Y/N. It’s 2am and we’re working a case, we need some sleep,” he whispered down at you, but you were enjoying teasing him, so you continued, unrelenting.

“It didn’t take us very long any of the other times, Spencer,” you burrowed your head into his neck so he couldn’t see you as you knew he was about to react to your challenge.

“You’re a brat, you know that right?” he sighed, looking down at the top of your head and waiting for you to meet his eyes, but you just nodded into him, and he rolled his eyes and fell back into a comfortable position, but the insinuation in your words stuck to him. You felt him shift next to you, and started slowly trailing your hand down his chest.

“Unless you really want to be working this case tomorrow on one hour of sleep, I’d suggest you stop this before you can’t anymore,” he growled into your ear.

“I think I’ll take my chances, you say, your hand finally reaching his waistband and snapping it against his skin once, showing him exactly what it was you wanted. He grabbed your hands to stop your movements, but from the way he shifted his weight, you could feel that he’d already taken your words to heart.

“So fucking desperate for it, can’t even leave you alone for twenty-four hours before you’re sticking your hands in my pants, huh, princess?” His voice was a low grumble in your ear, and that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach was back.

“Well, I’m tired tonight, so how about you show me just how much you want this?” He rolled you over, still pinning your hands with one of his larger ones, and started rolling your pajamas down your legs, just enough to access your pussy.

“Touch yourself, baby, get yourself ready for me,” he let go of your hands now and even in the dark you knew he would be watching your every movement. Lying on your side, you moved one hand down to your clit, beginning to rub slow circles into yourself, letting little gasps and moans escape from your mouth for his benefit.

After a few minutes of touching yourself, getting yourself ready, you reached behind you to Reid’s crotch, fumbling for a second before finally grabbing his dick through his pajamas. He didn’t make a sound in protest, so you continued, stroking his half hard dick until he was fully erect for you.

You gathered some of your wetness on your fingers and pushed two of them inside your pussy, stretching yourself out, beginning to synchronise your two hands so you’d both feel the pleasure together. Spencer was still frustratingly silent, not even moving further than he needed to to allow you better access. Desperate for his attention, you decide to tease him a little bit.

“Do you like that, sir?” You feel his dick twitch in your hand, and throwing a glance over your shoulder, you can see that his jaw is clenched. You panic for a second, thinking maybe he wasn’t into the pet name you’d just dropped from your lips, but he finally responds.

“You just keep working hard to make me happy, princess, okay?” He says and you grin in triumph.

“Yes, sir.” You respond. Instead of picking up your pace, you decide you’ve gone long enough without him inside you so you release him and pull your fingers out of your pussy, licking your juices off your fingers. You push your ass back into position again, lining his tip up with your core as you reach behind you to grab the base of his dick and finally feel him enter you.

Unlike the first time he’d been in you, you didn’t want this to end fast. You wanted to feel him filling you up forever, hold him inside of you. You started thrusting back in torurously slow movements, letting him get so far out of you that he feared he was going to fall out and then pushing yourself back on so deep there was nowhere else he could go.

Refusing to pick up the pace, you continue your movements for the next few minutes, but you feel him growing restless beside you. He lets out little hisses each time he feels the cold on his skin, and he’s breathing deeply, hands bawled into the sheets so he doesn’t touch you like he promised he wouldn’t.

But this feels too much like giving you control, so he starts talking to you again, trying to tease more movement out of you.

“So content to be filled with my cock, huh, baby? You want to savor it, right?” You whimper at every question, the feeling of him inside you and his gravelly voice driving you insane.

“Such a little whore, using my dick to get off when you should be sleeping.” Your pace increased after that, your body desperate to show him how eager you were to be taking all of him inside you.

“Oh? Thought you wanted to keep it slow tonight, slut, you’re getting sloppier.” You were pushing back fervently now, desperate for release, begging him for more and more until you couldn’t take it. Reaching back, you grabbed one of his hands and placed it over your breast, silently begging him to take control.

“Should I give my little whore what she wants?” You simply moaned in reply, unable to do anything else. But that was all he needed and he started matching your thrusts with his own, forcing your pace to increase until your vision was blurry with need.

You were hanging on by a thread now, his fingers rolling the nipple of the breast in his hand around, pinching it hard every few strokes.

“Spencer, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, please, please, please…” you had no idea what you were begging him for, but it seemed like he did, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“It’s okay baby, you can do it. You have my permission.” Once again, you came undone in his arms, and he wasn’t far behind. You fell asleep there in his arms, not even bothering to clean yourself off or make him pull out, just the two of you holding each other on a cold night.

When you woke up, he was gone, and even though you knew it was what was best, you still felt a little crack in your heart start to form.

Friday

It had been over a week since Spencer had sneaked into your room in Alaska and he hadn’t touched you since. With the case in full swing, you hadn’t had the time to sneak off together, and the hotel had since fixed their heating system after a few timely complaints from Rossi and Prentiss, so you had no excuses to gravitate to each other either.

You were back from Alaska now though, and stuffed into a booth at your favorite bar with your team for a post-case celebration. The booth was round, and you were stuck in the middle with nowhere to move, flanked on either side by Morgan and JJ, who respectively had Reid and Prentiss on either side of them, Garcia, currently at the bar, rounding out the bunch.

“Okay, one round of shots for my favorite team of Special Supervisory Agents, and the Good Doctor of course - do not try to back out of this, it’s happening.” Garcia returned with six shots of tequila and you winced. You’d never drank tequila and come out unscathed.

“Penelope I love you, but you know what tequila does to me,” you groan, trying to blink back the memories of the last time the poison had passed your lips. You’d been out on a girls night out, and after a few rounds of tequila and not a care in the world, you’d started answering any and every question the girls had put to you like you were under the influence of a truth serum.

“Exactly, sweetie, and it’s because I know that I want you to drink up, you’ve been secretive these last couple of days and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“What happens when you drink, Y/N?” Reid asked. You could heart the curiosity in his voice, and like everytime you’d felt his attention on you in the last week and a half, your chest thumped painfully, trying to burst from your chest and reach out to him.

“Oh, it was hilarious. She was a venerable chatterbox, and she was so open with her opinions on everything. She was answering every question with the cutest sincerity.” Garcia filled him in on the details and you wanted to melt into the couch.

“We asked her what drink she wanted next and she monologued for ten minutes about some of the different choices on the menu and whether she thought they would taste good.” JJ continued.

“And when we asked more probing questions, she’d start by saying ‘I’m only telling you this because it’s you three and I love you,’” Emily finished for them.

Thankfully, the three of them had noticed that you were quite a bit past it that day, and that they shouldn’t be really asking you anything inappropriate that you’d regret answering. You were especially thankful for it now though, as you could only imagine the things you’d say about Reid if your tongue loosened. About how he felt when he was inside you, about how he’d given you the best orgasm of your life, about how you were in love with him and afraid that if you told him you’d never have him in your arms again.

“One shot won’t hurt, Y/N. You had like five last time before you started spouting wisdom, what’s the worst that one could do?” You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t say no to Penelope Garcia, and thinking that maybe you didn’t even want to.

“Okay, one shot, and no more.” You grabbed the salt and the lime, got ready for your shot as the others did the same, and then with one quick tip up, it was burning a trail down your throat.

“Great, now that that’s finished, I’m going to get us some real drinks, any requests?” After a few shouts for beers and cocktails, Prentiss left the table and went to order the next round.

“How about a game?” Garcia suggested innocently enough, “maybe two truths, one lie? Truth or dare?” You rolled your eyes at her probing, knowing that she only had good intentions. She’d checked in on you a few times during your time in Alaska as well, after you started moping about the loss of Reid in your bed. It had only been the fact that he’d made you promise to keep your relationship to yourselves that had stopped you from spilling everything to Garcia the morning you woke up and realised he was gone.

“Baby girl, you’re scaring the kid,” Morgan laughed from his place at your side, and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he opened his mouth again. “That being said, is there something you need to get off your chest, Y/N? You’ve been acting all sad recently.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine, just not getting enough sleep, I think.”

“Oh, is it nightmares? We’ve all had them, I think it’s part of the job description now.” Emily returned with the drinks and latched on to the end of your conversation.

“Not nightmares, mostly dreams if I’m being honest,” you sighed out, unable to catch yourself as she handed you your drink. You cursed yourself as you looked up to see the grin on her face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you telling me that you’ve been running on minimum hours of sleep because you’ve been getting some action?” Whenever Emily full-named you, you felt like a little kid being pulled into a principal's office. You gulped and sent her a panicked look, unable to deny but not wanting to say another word. From the corner of your eye, you tried to catch Reid’s reaction to all of this. He was nursing his drink on the sidelines, not saying anything, but a small twitch in the corner of his mouth filled in the gaps for him.

“Oh, that’s my girl.” Emily whistled at you from the other side of the table, and for the next half hour you did your best to melt into the table and not make eye-contact with Reid.

Eventually, Morgan made his way to the bar to start flirting with some girls, and JJ, Emily and Prentiss made their way to the dancefloor, leaving you and Reid alone at the table. They’d tried to convince you to get up with them, but you’d convinced them to leave you behind, with promises to join them shortly.

“So, you’re a truthful drunk, then?” Reid asked. He’d moved closer to you when Morgan had exited the booth, but not close enough to draw anyone's attention. Now with the girls gone too, he took his chances and pushed up against your side, your thighs touching, and his arm resting on the back of the booth.

“Don’t start, I barely survived that with my life, Reid, now they think I’m seeing someone,” you groaned into your hands.

“You are seeing someone. Granted it’s just me, and its not what they think…” he trailed off, still staring at you with that smile on his lips, but you barely noticed burying your head further into your hands. It was almost infuriating that he didn’t know that he’d never be ‘just’ anything to you.

“Not helping, Reid.” He chuckled and took another swig of his drink. Obviously the alcohol was starting to have some effect on him, because when he returned his glass to his coaster, the hand that was holding it fell directly onto your thigh. With his other arm practically wrapped around your shoulders, and this movement now, you could only imagine that the two of you looked like a couple having an intimate discussion to anyone walking past.

“What are you doing, Spencer?” You panic a bit, worrying that any second a coworker of yours would catch sight of the two of you and realise just who you’d been dreaming about these past few days. But your back was to the booth and it wasn’t in their line of sight at all.

“Oh, it’s Spencer again, is it? Thought you liked calling me sir,” he whispered in your ear and the feeling of his hot breath on your neck was enough to disable the brain cells that remained.

“Spencer!” You hissed under your breath at him, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Can we not do this here?” You asked, exasperated.

“Would you prefer to do this at my apartment, or yours instead? Or your car is outside, if you just want to get straight to it.” You weren’t used to this from him. Sure he was dominant when you were in the middle of the act, but before and after he was almost ten times more awkward than usual. But with a bit of liquid courage, he’d had you trapped in a corner, unable to escape, and not caring who saw you.

“Spencer, they’re going to see us. That was the rule, they can’t see us.” You whispered in a low voice, not wanting to take it any higher, despite the pounding music in the bar.

“And they won’t but you need to answer me baby, my place, your place or your car?” Your heart-race picked up as you saw the serious expression on his face. He needed this. Needed you so badly, that he couldn’t even wait for a natural exit, needing to carry you off to the nearest convenient location and have his way with you. You realised in that moment that you would drop anything just to give him what he needed.

“Car.” You said, letting go of your worries, and just letting him take care of the situation.

“Perfect, princess. Now, you’re going to lean on my arm and act like you have a headache while I go and make our excuses to the others, okay? Do not say a word, and maybe I’ll give you a nice reward, how does that sound?” You nodded vigorously at his instructions, suddenly very excited for whatever he had in store for you.

You stumbled your way to the dancefloor, tracking down Garcia and the others as Spencer informed them of your condition. The three of them tried to ask you questions, but you were sure that Spencer was serious about that reward, so you kept your mouth shut, leaning against Reid innocently and just nodding your head at the appropriate times. Morgan was still chatting at the bar, and Reid gave him a nod on the way out, knowing that he’d soon be filled in as well, and you were suddenly out the door.

“Good job, princess, you did so good for me in there.” He cooed into your ear as he guided you back to your own car. Unlocking the doors, he threw your bag into the front seats and immediately climbed into the back, pulling you along with him by your hand.

He pulled you over him, making you straddle him. You knew he wasn’t going to take his time with you, not here, but that didn’t matter. You needed it just as much as he did. You wondered for a second if his reward was going to finally be him pressing his lips to yours. You’d changed into a short skirt before joining your friends at a bar, that material so tight over your ass and thighs that in your new position, he didn’t even have to move it out of the way to gain access to you, having already ridden up all the way to your stomach.

“So beautiful baby. If you need to stop for whatever reason, you need to tap my shoulder here two times, okay?” You were confused about the introduction of a new safety gesture, but when he wrapped one of his hands around your neck and squeezed just as he starting rubbing your soaking cunt you suddenly realised it was necessary.

The strong grip on your throat was limiting your breath, the lack of oxygen you were getting intensifying every stroke he made. It was only a few minutes before he was pushing a finger into you, and beginning to pump it in and out quickly. You grabbed at the arm attached to your throat, using it for balance as you used your remaining energy to grind down desperately into his hand. He stilled his movements then, letting you use his hand to get off, humping yourself into him like a bitch in heat.

“You said you liked this, but if I’d have known you meant this much, I’d have done this much sooner.” He tightened his grip around your throat a little bit, still doing his best not to hurt you. You were seeing stars now, the car windows were fogged up from your desperate pants, and you were so close to just finishing right there on his hand.

You felt your vision go black as you finally tipped over the edge, tapping his shoulder quickly as you felt your orgasm rip through you. He instantly let go of you and caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you, and instantly doing everything to make sure you were okay.

“What’s wrong, are you okay? Did I squeeze too hard?” There was a panic in his tone, but you let your breathing even out before you replied, content with the feeling of him stroking your hair as your head rested against his chest.

“It’s okay, Spencer, it was just getting a little bit too intense for me, is all…” you let out a small yawn then and nuzzled into him in the backseat, your eyes drooping closed.

“Princess, I’m going to get you home now, okay? No more tonight.” He whispered sweetly into your hair, as you fell asleep in his arms once again. The last thing you felt before you fell under was his lips press a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

Saturday

When you woke up again, you knew you were in his arms, and your heart practically sang at the contact. Your eyes opened and there he was, next to you in your bed, face inches from yours, arms wrapped tightly around you and legs tangled in yours.

You stared at him for a few moments, not wanting to wake him and shatter the peace with awkward exits, not wanting to distance yourself from him for even a second. Your eyes drank all of him in. His messy hair, his long, delicate eyelashes, his lips. You found yourself staring at them for more than a few moments.

What would they feel like pressed into yours? You tried to bury the thought, but you just couldn’t. He was asleep, and you’d not talked about kissing when you’d discussed things you wouldn’t do. It was human nature to be curious, but the need to know him, to experience him and everything he had was consuming you from the inside, and you couldn’t help yourself.

Just as you were about to let your impulses control your movements and press a kiss to his lips, you felt him stir next to you, instantly snapping your eyes shut and laying as still as possible as he roused himself from sleep.

You felt him shift, but you could hear nothing over the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Did he know you were awake? Was he going to leave without waking you? Was he going to try to wake you up?

You felt his fingers against your cheek now, tracing a faint line down your face, and then he did something unexpected, and he cupped your face in his hand, and you felt him growing closer and closer until you felt the softest of touches against your lips and realised that he was finally kissing you.

Completely forgetting you were supposed to be asleep, you responded to his kiss, angling your head to better match his and pushing your lips back into his as he made to depart, encouraging him to keep going. He did, with each connection of your lips growing more and more passionate and loving, and like if he was given the chance he’d never stop holding you there in that moment. He only pulled away when he ran out of breath, and you were thankful that he did, as when you opened your eyes, the sight of him robbed you of yours too.

“Good morning, princess.” He whispered, tenderly, letting his forehead come to rest on yours, pressing another chaste kiss to your nose as he did so, and drawing out a giggle from you.

“Good morning, Spencer.” He drops another kiss to your lips then, almost as if now that he’s started he can’t stop.

“Spencer, please, why are you so touchy this morning?” you giggle up at him between kisses.

“I don’t know, you just looked so beautiful, is that a crime?” He smiles at you agan, continuing his kisses down your neck.

“We’ve never kissed before,” you vocalise your fear, and he stopped his movements before you could rush to backtrack.

“We haven’t? Oh god, we haven’t,” his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, his expression mirroring yours. “Shit, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just assumed after everything these past two weeks that we’d kissed at some point.”

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologise,” you try to speak, but he keeps going, rushing to get the words out all at once.

“I think I was misremembering kissing you, maybe I thought my dreams were real or something, so if I overstepped a boundary or something about this makes you uncomfortable, say the word and I’ll never do it again.” There was a ringing in your ears as you took in his words.

“You dreamed about kissing me?” you asked in a whisper, almost scared to hear the answer. He struggled to find the right words to say for a moment, but then he nodded.

“I thought you’d have guessed by now from my enthusiasm about all of this,” he replied, still holding you, his hands hot on your waist.

“Wait, Spencer, for how long?”

“Promise you won’t be freaked out?” He groaned, looking like he’d rather bury his face in your pillows than admit what he was about tp.

“I promise, now spill.”

“Since you joined the team. Like since the exact second. I saw you when you walked in and it was like a bomb went off in my head or something, and I had to avoid you for most of that first day so you didn’t notice I was being a creep and just imagining what it would feel like to kiss you.” The grin on your face grew with each of his words, hope sprouting there and taking root.

“God, Spencer, I thought you were uncomfortable around me. I thought you hated me a little because I threw off the group dynamic!” you laughed at your own stupidity now, raking a hand through your hair as his behaviour became more understandable, now.

“No, god no. It does take me a little bit of time to warm up to change, I’ll admit, but by the end of the first week, the change I was imagining what our kids would look like.” You froze with his words, and the roots in your heart grew deeper, twining around themselves and holding you with a fervid strength.

“Kids?” was the only word you managed to gasp out, as Spencer realised what he’d said.

“Fuck… That is, I didn’t mean to… It was just a stupid thought, if you don’t feel the same way, it’s totally fine.”

“Feel what way, Spencer?” you had to hear it from his lips, had to hear the words you so desperately needed.

“Y/N, you have to know by now that I’m obsessed with you. I can’t get enough of you, I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for the last two weeks. I’m completely devoted to you, Y/N. I love you.” The flower in your chest bloomed, and the tears from your eyes spilled to water it.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he kissed the tears away from your cheeks, happy to continue showing you his adoration from earlier, but you pulled him away, needing to look him in the eye when you said it.

“Spencer, I love you, too. Maybe I didn’t realise as soon as you did, but somewhere in my subconscious I was so aware of you, I wanted your approval so badly, wanted you to smile and laugh with me the way you were with the rest of the team. I’ve spent this last week with the words stuck in my throat because I thought you couldn’t possibly feel the same, because Spencer you deserve all the love in the world.” Your tears were free flowing now, with your confession, and you could see some moisture forming in his as well.

The two of you didn’t need to say anything more after that, your lips doing all the communicating for you.

These kisses were different, so much deeper, more romantic, more needy. He moved his leg over you and pressed some of his weight down into you, wrapping you in his warmth. He pulled away from your lips to continue further down your neck. Each time he pulled away, he whispered a confession into your skin.

“Spencer, I want to feel you inside of me, please.” You moaned into his touch, and he quickly agreed. Now that you two knew you had each other, you wanted to waste no time. He was hard already, having woken up with the perfect reason to hold you. He carefully lifted your legs up and apart, giving himself all the space he needed to make love to you.

“God, you’re so perfect for me,” he said, pausing to spit down on your pussy, spreading the wetness with his heavy cock. He sat there rubbing himself against you for a few minutes, his lips having reconnected with yours, swallowing every moan you made, along with any he couldn’t control from himself.

The two of you were so lost in each other, in the moment, that it felt like it lasted forever. With one last rub to your sensitive areas, he lined himself up with your hole, and slowly lowered himself in. Encouraging you to hold your knees up into a tighter position, he grabbed your hips and began setting a relentless pace. It wasn’t the slow sensual fuck from your motel room, or even the hard and fast mess of your first time in the file room, but somewhere in the middle. You could feel the passion and the love he held for you in his kisses, and the lust you had cultivated over the weeks in each thrust, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

“Yes, Spencer just like that, fuck,” you moaned out when he finally moved away from your lips, pressing his mouth into your neck again and biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but just hard enough that the pain heightened your pleasure.

With each thrust, your arms became weaker and weaker, your legs shaking furiously as he gave you all of him.

“Come on baby, just a few more, you can hold out for a few more,” he whispered in your ear, licking and sucking at the place he’d left his bite mark.

“I don’t think I can, I don’t think I can for musch longer, Spencer, please,” you whimpered your arms falling away from your legs. He replaced yours with his, pushing your body further into the bed, doing all the work and letting you just experience it.

“Okay, baby, you did great, you think you can come on my cock now, baby?” He asked and you immediately nodded, feeling the tell-tale bubbling of your orgasm beginning to rush through you. Your whole body stiffened as you screamed, his pace unrelenting as he rode you through the orgasm. He moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing you through it and keeping you sensitive, and even though you’d just had one of the most powerful orgasms of your life, you knew he meant to make you do it again.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. I love you, sweetie, you’re doing so perfect for me,” you gasped and moaned into his ear, unable to think for the twitching in your cunt, driven slowly insane by the sensitivity.

“I’m almost there, baby, gonna fill your cunt with my seed.” He grunted in your ear, grabbing either side of your neck in his hands, resting his forehead against yours and thrusting harder and harder into you. You felt the second wave start to hit then, more drawn out than the first as he did his best to breed you, to plant himself firmly inside of you. He lasted only a few more thrusts before his hips stilled, bottomed out inside of you, and you felt rope after rope of his cum spurt into you.

“Fuck, princess, I love you.” He pressed another quick kiss y=to your lips, but you were whimpering from the continued contact now, and he quickly pulled out. He stopped to watch his cum drip out of you, knowing that he’d fully claimed you now, that you were his forever, and, resisting the urge to push into you again, left to grab something to clean you up with.

You laid there, gently coaxing your legs back into a comfortable position until he came back. He cleaned you up, bundled you up in some fresh pajamas, and returned you to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms once again, almost as if nothing had happened.

“It’s saturday, so we can just relax for the rest of the day, okay, princess?” You hid your face in his chest and nodded your approval, gently shutting out the rest of the world. It was you and him now, everyday of the week it was you and him.

Sunday

After two weeks of constant attention, you had to set a boundary with your new boyfriend very quickly, and you chose breakfast on the sunday morning to do it.

“Spencer, you know I love you, right?” you opened the conversation, filling up his coffee mug as he set the small table in the corner of your kitchen.

“Yes, you said it 246 times yesterday. I said it 274 times, but whose keeping count, right?” You laughed at him, and pulled him into a hug quickly, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips.

“I love you, but we need to talk again.” You smiled up at him, trying your best to keep your poker face as you threatened to crack seeing his eyebrows knit together.

“Did I do something wrong?” he quickly asked, but you stroked his hair reassuringly, signaling for him to just listen to you.

“I really like my job, you know. I like working out in the field.” You smiled up at him, watching his confusion deepen.

“But if you keep fucking me like I’m a little whore everyday of the week, it’s only going to be a matter of time until I can’t walk, you know?”

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🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @cow-parsley @wakaladjarin @itsyagrillkat @ratbastardchild

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babyjackdaniels · 2 months

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#fox writes imagines #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #fbi agent!reader #bau agent!reader #bau #behavioural analysis unit #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid imagine #fbi agent!reader imagine #bau agent!reader imagine #bau imagine

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irndad · 1 month

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just read your runner!hotch x sunshine!reader and omigosh that was soooooooooooooooo cute! I'm so happy you're happy to continue with those two in an au!

can I request one of them where hotch manages to get reader to go on a run with him? <3

“You hate me. You hate me and want me to die.”

Aaron can tell she wants to be deadpan but the gasps give it away. He’s hopelessly endeared but he sight of her, her little vest zip up that he’d gotten for her for their three mont-anniversary. He tries to be courteous like that, remembering the months. It’s not like he forgets.

She looks adorable, her bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout, her expressive brows pinched into frustration. Her hair is in a claw clip, and she’s still worn the lipstick she loves in flagrant disregard of good sense. That’s my girl, he thinks to himself.

“I’d like to think you know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that,” he replies, smiling.

“There’s nothing else this could be!” she says, finally touching the bench. They’d done one lap. “You’re a sadist, Agent Hotchner. Someone should investigate you.”

It’s actually quite comical, how she leans down and holds the arm of her bench, and catches her breath. He feels light in a way he hasn’t in a long time. There’s now ay she could know this- he hasn’t told her, likes to meet her in her lightness and sweetness when he can- but this past week has been punishing. She’s been the highlight of it, greeting him at his home with a bright smile and a book for Jack. He’d felt an immense gratefulness, for her attention and her affection. How rare is it, for someone like Aaron to be cherished like this?

“Sweetheart,” he says, warmth dripping from his tone, “I swear to you I only am looking for your health.”

She turns around to be facing him, and despite the fact he’s sure it’s not the most sensory pleasant experience, she wraps her arms around his neck. He returns in kind, wrapping her in his strong arms. It’s nice, the feeling of enveloping her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Hotchner.”

He’s very, very lucky indeed.

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forhappysake · 4 months

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ynscrazylife · 2 months

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i need to be excused (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

summary: yknow that scene where hotch says “excuse me” and then faints? imagine that but his wife does it to him.

Having a profiler for a husband gets annoying with how observent he is. Unfortunately, you’re also a profiler, so it’d be hypocritical to complain.

Still, when Hotch notices the slightest thing wrong, he latches onto it. He’s had his eye on you ever since you took a hard hit from a fight in the field. You barely had time to recover before the team had to board the jet again to respond to some emergency Strauss needed them for.

Apparently, a man who claims to be linked to other murders and who was a former BAU agent had made a threat against Strauss’s family. Finally back at the BAU, the team’s stuck calling people, making arrangements, going through endless paperwork to try and get more information and figure out what was going on.

You’re not doing so hot. Still reeling from the pain, but also exhausted and definitely moody. Hotch keeps it professional since they’re at work, but is still watching out for you.

Hours later, after correctly identifying the man and making the arrest (which included lots of running around), the team again returns to their base. They’re going through everything and debriefing next steps, when you abruptly stand.

“I need to be excused for a moment,” you say, already sounding breathless, before promptly keeling over and collapsing onto the floor.

For a second, everyone freezes in shock. Hotch is the first to react. He all but screams your name, dropping to his knees and trying to assess what’s going on.

“Honey, honey? C’mon, wake up. What’s going on? Sweetheart, please,” Hotch says as he shakes you, moving you so that your head is in his lap.

Spencer kneels on your other side, gently taking your pulse and reporting that it’s stable. “Could be exhaustion, dehydration . . .” He trails off, listing all the reasons he can think of.

Hotch uses one hand to run his fingers through your hair and the other to cup your face, lightly tapping your cheek. After nearly a minute of the team standing around, wondering what to do, your eyes start to flutter open.

“Aaron?” You mutter, seeing your husband’s eyes first.

“Hi, hon. You passed out. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling,” he says, keeping his voice soft but letting out a breath of relief now that you’re awake. He continues threading his fingers through your hair and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

You blink a couple times and then say, “Tired.”

Exhaustion, then. “You’re sure that’s it? Is anything else wrong?” Hotch asks, anxious to role out some underlying cause.

You nod, then grimace at the lightheaded feeling it gives you, turning and smushing the side of your face in Hotch’s lap. He looks up at the team and gestures his head towards the door.

They get the hint, though Emily and Spencer do offer to stay behind and help. Hotch thanks them but assures them that you’ll be alright and the team takes off.

“Do you feel alright to sit up?” Hotch asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” you murmur and, with his help, sit up. You immediately lean into his arms. “Ooh, wow. Dizzy.”

“I think you pushed yourself a bit too hard, sweetheart. We gotta make sure you rest properly. Wouldn’t hurt to get some food and water in you, too,” Hotch says, cradling you.

You hum in agreement. The two of you sit there for a bit, Hotch being in no rush to move you. He can’t help but reflect a bit and he sighs, shaking his head.

“What?” You ask grumpily.

“Just a little in shock that you actually excused yourself before fainting,” he says. He recognizes the funniness of it, though he lacks any amusement, still too worried.

You chuckle. “Was tryin’ to be polite,” you explain.

“I’m sure you were,” Hotch says, smearing a kiss against your head.

You continue on sitting, Hotch rubbing your back. Finally, he gets the both of you on your feet, and leads you out to the car. He sits you in the passenger’s seat and buckles you in, driving you home. Once there Hotch immediately gets you in bed, helping you change into pajamas before doing the same. He gets you a glass of water and a snack, making sure that you eat and drink it all.

“Wanna sleep now,” you mumble once you’re done, curling into his chest.

“Of course, dear. Just relax,” he coos, already planning to call you both out of work tomorrow. He does not take his wife fainting lightly and is going to do everything he can to make sure you’re okay.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds hotch #criminal minds

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cometkenji · 11 days

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killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises.

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly.

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint.

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?”

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.”

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?”

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new.

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick.

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

–

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you.

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up.

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision.

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

–

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him.

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day.

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up.

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it.

“I can watch him.”

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you.

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day.

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.”

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless.

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from.

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back.

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.”

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless.

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.”

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

–

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it.

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks.

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in.

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine.

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal.

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you.

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.”

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure.

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?”

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.”

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself. You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road.

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much.

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm.

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

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