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briefinquiries · 8 months ago

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Promise You'll Call

Prompt: hi first i just want to say i love you writing so much. Do you think you could write something where luke finds out the reader’s significant other is harming them (mentally or physically)? I understand this is a rough topic but i was just going through a hard time with flashbacks. I understand if you can’t, thank you!

Word count: 7k (idk how this got to be so long)

Warnings: DV mention (in detail), blood tw

A/N: ayyyyooo, it's been forever since i've posted, but enjoy! i wanted to post, so i haven't proof read yet, so please excuse any grammatical mistakes, I'll go back and fix tomorrow :)

Luke honestly didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It just so happened that he was still in his truck, finishing up the burnt bagel he’d made in a rush this morning when you pulled into the parking garage. At first, Luke didn’t recognize that it was you in the black BMW that stopped in the middle of the garage, right behind his own truck. But when he peeked through his rearview mirror, he saw you sitting in the passenger seat, tucking a curtain of hair behind your ear.

Luke’s stomach flipped, the same way it did every time he saw you.

Except this time, he actually felt guilty for it, because he was pretty sure the guy driving the car was your boyfriend. Luke was new to the team in the last year, and while he’d done a pretty good job getting to know everyone at the BAU, he still hadn’t met partners or family yet. You were one of the few agents who never talked about your personal life at work.

But even though Luke couldn’t see the man driving the car, as soon as you cracked open the passenger side door, he certainly heard him.

Was it even considered eavesdropping if the entire parking garage could hear?

“I’m not done talking!” The man’s voice echoed across the entire garage, causing Luke to straighten in his seat.

“Will you lower your voice?” You snapped back in a hushed tone, before looking around the space, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“The whole city is going to hear you, Justin, please.”

“I don’t care if they do– get back in the fucking car!”

Something in Luke’s chest began boiling at the sound of his tone. Did he always speak to you that way? He fought back the urge to peel himself out of his truck. You were his coworker– not his girlfriend. It wasn’t his place to knock this guy down a few pegs, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“I have nothing else to say to you right now–”

“Good, don’t talk. Fucking listen for once in your life!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice eerily calm. It was like you were almost used to this kind of fighting– like you knew the exact steps to take to attempt de-escalating him. “I have to get to work. We’ll talk about this later.”

“If you shut that fucking door, you’re walking home. I swear to–” but the man’s voice was abruptly cut off by you shutting the door.

Luke secretly felt proud as he watched you turn and walk away from the BMW without looking back.

Suddenly, music blared through the speakers of the car before Luke heard tires squealing while the car drove away. Luke remained in place while he heard your footsteps fade into the distance, not wanting to embarrass you further or let you know he’d been heard the entire conversation that just played out.

But while he gave you a moment to catch the elevator without him, Luke didn’t like the feeling that settled in his stomach. If your boyfriend acted like that in the middle of the bureaus parking garage, what the hell was he like behind closed doors?

…

You fought back tears for the entire elevator ride. Thank God no one got into the lift with you, so you at least had a moment of peace before having to pull everything together.

Justin woke up mad– again. That had been a regular occurrence for the last year. And for the last month, he’d been convinced you were cheating on him. With zero evidence aside from a “hunch” he was apparently going on, there was no amount of convincing or location sharing or reminding him that your job came with sporadic hours that would change his mind. And things were getting worse. Each day it felt like he was angrier– more out of control. And each day you told yourself that you could handle it. You were literally trained on how to de-escalate murderers, for God’s sake. But this morning, when you woke up to not one, but four flat tires on the car you parked in the garage, you knew things were escalating again.

As the elevator climbed, your phone suddenly pinged in your pocket. You pulled it out to read the text back from your mother. You’d reached out to her earlier, letting her know what you’d suspected– that Justin had slashed your tires so that you couldn’t take your own car to work.

Mom: He wouldn’t do that. I know you are going through a rough patch, but Justin’s a good man. Did you reach out to that couple’s therapist I told you about?

You let out a sigh.

Typical.

Justin had worked at the local hospital with your father before he retired. As a world-wide renowned cardiovascular surgeon with a strong handshake and charismatic demeanor, he could do no wrong in your parent’s eyes.

In the few instances you actually had reached out to them for support in the last year, the burden always fell back on you. What had you done to piss him off? What were you doing to mitigate the situation? You should have learned by now not to reach out to either one of them. You wouldn’t get the response you wanted.

The elevator slowly climbed and you knew you had to pull it together. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You reached the fifth floor and stepped out of the elevator, trying to forget about everything that had just happened.

Within an hour, a new case rolled in. You sat around the round table and listened to Emily give the rundown while Garcia clicked through slides of gruesome crime scenes she blatantly refused to even glimpse at . You tried to pay attention– to compartmentalize your home life like you had always been so good at doing. But as soon as you heard that the case was in Idaho– across the country, worry began creeping back inside of you. One of the biggest problems that Justin had was your constant travel for work. Although he was allowed to put in consistent, 16-hour days at the hospital, he got upset every time you told him where your next case was.

Which, honestly, you understood. When you took the job with the BAU, you never expected to have much of a life outside of it. You were gone more than you were home, and you knew that sort of lifestyle wasn’t for everyone. Except when you met him, Justin had known what you did for work. You didn’t lie or keep it a secret. He said he was okay with the traveling and the long hours. Until he wasn’t.

Suddenly, there was a gentle tap on your shoulder. Every thought racing through your mind blew away and you refocused on the present moment.

“Everything okay?” It was Luke asking.

You looked around to realize that everyone else was packing up their belongings to board the jet. Turning to face Luke, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming, I guess.”

“Daydreaming with those crime scenes in the background?” he asked, nodding towards the gruesome picture still up on the screen. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that.”

You let out a breath of laughter. Luke hadn’t been on the team for long, but you realized within a few weeks of knowing him that he always knew how to make people laugh– no matter what was going on in the world around you. That was one of the many reasons he fit in so effortlessly with the team.

“We can do a mindfulness class sometime,” you joked.

He smiled, dimples popping from his dark, smooth skin. “I’d attend consistently.”

Something fluttered in your stomach.

You just chalked it up to stress and nerves.

…

Luke was supposed to be reviewing the case on the flight. Instead, he couldn’t stop watching you. Out of all the open seats, you chose one right across from him. You had the file open on your lap while your eyes scanned the page. Luke could tell you weren’t reading either, though, because the jet had already been airborne for almost half an hour and you hadn’t flipped the page.

Meanwhile, Reid, who was to Luke’s right, had already read the entire file, front to back, probably three times by now.

“Can you give me the Sparknotes version?” Luke leaned over and asked him.

“What’s Sparknotes?” Reid asked, no hint of humor in his voice.

Luke’s jaw fell open. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I don’t really think that intelligence can be measured or quantified in the way humans have tried to in the past. Technically I have an eidetic memory, which allows me to recall information with accurate precision. Meaning I’d actually have to see the information once to be able to recall it. I’ve never seen a Sparknote… or whatever you called it.”

A smirk spread across your lips, your eyes darting up to meet Luke’s.

Luke shook his head in disbelief, offering you a small smile before turning back to Spencer. He’d been with the team nearly a year now and he still hadn’t gotten used to Reid’s demeanor. He wondered if he ever would.

“You never had to Google the summary of a book when you were younger?”

Reid gave Luke a perplexed look. “Why would I do that if I have the book in front of me?”

“Because it’s faster.”

“I can read–”

“20 thousand words a minute,” Rossi interrupted as he walked by with an empty cup of coffee. “Yeah, we know, kid.”

He placed a free hand on Luke’s shoulder, patting it gently. “I have no idea what prompted this conversation, but trust me when I say it’s not worth it.”

Luke heard you stifle a laugh as Rossi walked past.

…

You’d been on edge the entire plane ride. Justin never responded to your message, letting him know you’d be away for at least the next couple of days on a case. Maybe he was in the OR today, or maybe the hospital’s cell service was just spotty.

Or maybe he really was just that mad at you.

You knew the way he treated you was wrong. You recognized the red flags that had been staring you right in the face. But slashing your tires? Maybe your mom was right– maybe there was another explanation. Because no matter how much he yelled, or got in your face, or tried to intimidate you, you really didn’t think there was any way he could do that.

You hated being this distracted while you worked. Emily was having to repeat instructions for you, JJ was throwing you worried glances, Spencer had asked three times now if you were okay… It was like you were the one being profiled in Idaho.

Of course that wasn’t really the case, though. You were in Sun Valley because of a string of murdered women, each left dumped and discarded in ditches off the parkway. Each with ligature markings around their necks. Each with evidence of sexual assault. And each deserving of your undivided attention.

You tried your best to give it to them. But in reality, when the case finally wrapped up six days after you’d arrived, you knew that everyone had picked up your slack.

And while you were grateful to be part of a team that could pick up the slack of others, you hated that you had to utilize it.

‘Unbelievable.’

That had been the only message you received from Justin the entire week you were away. You sent a practical novel back– trying to apologize and explain your side. Then you tried calling at least twice a day. But each time you went straight to his voicemail. Normally, space wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Except the jet was about to land back at Quantico, and you were terrified of what was next.

Not to mention you had no ride home.

“Hey,” a soothing voice suddenly said, stirring you from your thoughts.

When you glanced up, you saw Luke gesturing towards the open seat across from you.

“You mind? Everyone else is asleep.”

For a moment, you looked around the jet and noticed that Luke was right. Practically everyone was sprawled out or curled up against a window, passed out. You couldn’t blame them. It had been a rough case. If circumstances were different and you weren’t currently overthinking everything in your life, you’d probably be passed out too.

Eventually you turned back to Luke and nodded. “You couldn't sleep?” You asked him.

He shook his head. “Nah. I never sleep on planes. I think it’s a control-thing. I can never calm myself down enough to actually sleep.”

You frowned. “Now that you say that, I’ve never actually seen you sleep on the jet.”

“And you probably never will.”

You grinned back. “Does that mean I’ll never get to know if Luke Alvez snores?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified,” he smirked.

“Such a tease.”

Luke let out a low chuckle before casually leaning forward in his seat. “I did want to see if everything was okay, though.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, probably sounding too defensive.

He shrugged. “I mean you just didn’t seem yourself this week. Not in a bad way or anything– just off.”

Shit. You knew it had been noticeable. But even still, the small part of you that was hoping it wasn’t deflated at Luke’s words. You actually debated telling him everything, which was so out of the norm for you lately. Ever since you and Justin had been having problems, you’d turned into a shell of who you used to be– you never hung out with Penn, Emily, or JJ anymore. You never had time for getting your ass kicked at chess on the jet with Reid, because you were too busy worrying if Justin was mad at you for leaving. You never joined everyone at Rossi’s evening dinners because you felt guilty for spending nights that you were home away from the house and Justin would never go with you.

Suddenly, the harsh reality slapped you right in the face: You didn’t like who you were becoming. You didn’t like who you were when you were with Justin. The thought made you want to curl up and hide from the world– from Luke. But there was something about the way he looked at you– so earnest and intentional, like he was hanging onto every word, like he actually wanted to be someone you could trust, that felt prevented you from doing so.

“You’re chewing on your lip,” Luke pointed out. “That’s how I always know when you’re overthinking.”

You relaxed your jaw instantly. That’s how he always knew? How often was Luke paying attention to your moods and mannerisms? The thought made something flutter in your stomach, but not in the anxious way it had been fluttering recently. This was softer– less scary.

“Stupid profilers,” you muttered under your breath, desperate to break through whatever tension was boiling between the two of you.

It was enough to earn a chuckle from Luke. “We are pretty annoying, aren’t we?” He sat back in his chair, cracking his knuckles casually. “You know, my last two girlfriends have broken up with me because of this job. One was serious– the last one, not so much. But still. They said it was too demanding– that I couldn’t make them a priority. I don’t know if you remember the Orlando case last fall. The one with–”

“The fourteen year old boy. We were too late to save him, but we got his sister,” you finished for him. “I remember.” Not only did you remember, but that very same case had been burned into your brain for months.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Well, when we got back from that case, that’s when she broke up with me. She said she was trying to deal with me being gone all the time. But if I couldn’t even be present when I was home, she was done. God, I had nightmares about that case for weeks– still do sometimes.”

You gazed at him sympathetically. Unfortunately, his story wasn’t that out of the norm. Aside from you, everyone on the team in a relationship was already married. Once you had a solid, established relationship, most times it was doable. But the reality was, it was hard to date someone and be part of the BAU.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be,” he waved you off. “They were right. I put my job first. And I’d like to think that the person I’m supposed to be with would understand how important this work is to me, even if each case takes a little piece from me.”

You thought about Justin– always criticizing, always making comments and remarks about how much you worked. You thought about the last few weeks and all the late nights you’d sat and done unnecessary paper at your desk just to avoid going home to him.

“Or maybe you’d actually want to make the person you’re supposed to be with the priority,” you suggested softly without meeting Luke’s gaze.

Luke had just been so vulnerable with you– telling you about his relationship problems like you were someone he could confide in. And the scary part was, you liked it. You liked being someone he came to with these types of things. You wished he’d do it more.

Justin never confided in you– never let you confide in him, either. You stared intently down at your lap and wondered what it would feel like to have someone who would.

“Justin and I– we’re having some issues.”

Finally, you dared to look up at Luke. His brown eyes looked black in the dimly lit jet, but they still glistened as he listened. “He’s just so mad at me,” you whispered, voice faltering. You’d barely said anything, but you could already feel all of the emotions you’d been masking and forcing down start to bubble towards the surface. “All the time. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I want to do anything about it.”

Luke leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees while he wound his fingers together. “I heard him when he dropped you off in the garage the other day,” Luke said honestly. Instantly, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I swear, I was just waiting in my car because I was early and well–”

You took a shaky breath, embarrassed beyond belief. “Anyone in the vicinity would have heard him that day.”

Luke’s voice lowered. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

Yes, you thought.

“No. That was just a bad morning.”

Luke nodded, but pursed his lips like he didn’t quite believe you. “I know it isn’t my place, but you don’t deserve that. I mean, fuck, no one does. But especially you.”

You smiled softly, trying to believe that he was right– that you didn’t deserve Justin’s harsh comments or anger. And on some level, you knew you didn’t. But another part of you always wondered why you didn’t try harder– why you didn’t care if he ended things or not.

“Thanks Luke.”

He nodded, leaning back once again. You gazed out the jet window, seeing familiar city lights in the distance. You’d be landing soon. And then it was back to whatever grim reality faced you at home.

“You don’t have your car today, do you?” Luke asked suddenly, stirring you from your thoughts.

You shook your head. “Uh no. When I went to leave for work, my tires were flat.”

“All of them?” he asked, sounding shocked.

“All of them.”

“What’d you do, park in a pile of glass?”

“No, I think they were slashed.”

Luke’s eyes widened, a wave of concern washing over his face. “You don’t think–”

“I have no proof,” you said, knowing instantly what Luke was implying before he even said it. “But yes.”

“Jesus–”

You took a slow, steadying breath, doing your best not to fall apart in front of Luke.

“I think your place is on my way home,” Luke said after a moment. “I can give you a ride.”

You looked up, instantly ready to decline the generous offer. Luke was good– too good. And you didn’t want to ruin whatever type of friendship was blossoming between you by being too needy right from the start.

“Don’t even try to say no,” he spoke first. “Please let me give you a ride.”

By habit, you chewed on your lower lip.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t have offered if it was going to be an inconvenience.”

You felt guilty– you really couldn’t help it, and you weren’t used to accepting help from others. But something about Luke’s tone was so earnest, you believed him. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t expect you to say yes. After a moment, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” your head hung, gaze falling to your lap. “Thank you.”

The two of you spent the final minutes of the jet ride sitting quietly, gazes fixated out the window as the pilot landed you safely back in Quantico. When the lights flickered on, your other team members stirred in their seats with exhausted sighs and groans. You grabbed your go bag and followed closely behind Luke as he stepped off the plane.

“Need anything inside?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, I’m good.”

With that, he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and veered towards the parking garage with you just strides behind him.

Luke made small talk on the ride home. It was like he knew how nervous you were to see Justin and was trying to lighten the mood. You mostly just smiled and nodded in response, and felt grateful when Luke didn’t pressure you or point this out. Only when you got close enough to offer him instructions to your house did you actually utter any words.

Then, before you knew it, Luke was putting his truck in park on the street near your house. You swallowed thickly as soon as you saw Justin’s car in the driveway and a single light still on in the house.

The harsh reality was that you had no idea what to expect when you walked through those doors. But here… now… sitting in this truck with Luke, you felt safe. It was hard to leave that.

But of course you had to. Luke couldn’t wait here all night.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, trying to conceal how shaky your voice sounded.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” he said quickly. “But… I just– I mean, I don’t feel good about leaving you here.”

You shook your head quickly. Again, not wanting to feel like a burden. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine. He can be controlling and he gets angry– but he’d never hurt me or anything.”

Luke nodded, although the furrow in his brow told you he didn’t quite believe you.

“You have my number. Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

You weren’t used to this kind of generosity. But before you could overthink things, you nodded earnestly, believing that you would actually call him if it came to that. If nothing else, Luke had proven how trustworthy he was in the last few hours alone.

“Alright,” he nodded carefully as you slid out of the front seat of his truck, feet colliding with the pavement.

“Thanks again,” you did your best to muster up a genuine smile.

The corner of his lip tugged up slightly, but concern was still plastered over his face. “See you on Monday then.”

“Monday,” you agreed.

With that, you closed the door– putting a literal wall between you and the only person who had made you feel safe in the last week.

You turned towards your house, the knots in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. When you reached the front door, you turned one last time to see Luke leaned forward, eyes trained on you. Your chest softened when you realized he was waiting for you to get inside safely before driving off. Offering him one, final wave, you turned to unlock the front door.

When you first stepped inside your house– everything looked normal. The light above the stove was on and the fridge hummed softly. You placed your duffel bag on the floor and stepped into the kitchen for some water. As you filled up a glass, you began to wonder if maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe Justin had been busy with work this week– just like you’d been.

But your wishful thinking was short lived.

Because the second you turned away from the faucet, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sight of Justin– standing on the other side of the island counter. You hadn’t even heard him approach you.

“Jesus, Justin–” you gasped, setting your glass of water down on the counter. “You scared me.”

Instead of replying, his eyes just narrowed. He looked angry– angrier than you’d ever seen him. An eerie chill crept down your spine, sending an eruption of goosebumps across your skin.

“Where were you?” he asked, voice menacing and icy.

“I told you– there was a case–”

His hands slammed down on the counter, causing you to take a step back as you jumped.

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying–” you said quickly, trying to keep your own voice even. You knew how important it would be to remain calm.

But despite your efforts, Justin swiped his hand across the counter, sending your cup of water colliding into the wall, where it shattered.

You winced, unable to completely contain your shock. Because despite the yelling and the screaming, Justin had never done that before. Something inside of you told you that you had to leave… now– but you couldn’t react in time. Because before you could even turn your body to head towards the door, he was already turning the corner around the island, eliminating the only barrier between you and his violent outburst.

“Where are you going, huh?” he challenged. “Gonna take off again?”

“I was at work, Justin– I told you that.”

He took another step closer to you, sending you a step backwards. Like a choreographed dance, you alternated steps until you heard the crunch of glass beneath your shoes. You’d reached the wall. You were cornered.

Panic flooded through you. And suddenly, logic went out the window. You couldn’t think rationally– you couldn’t problem solve. Everything just went blank.

“Who brought you home tonight, hm?”

He was close enough that you could smell the alcohol melting off his breath. You lowered your head, trying to appear as submissive as you could– because what the hell else were you supposed to do?

“I saw the truck– the white one? Who the fuck was that?”

“Just someone from work,” you answered quickly.

“Just someone from work, huh?” He took another step forward. There was practically no space between the two of you now. “Look at me when you talk.”

You were trembling so hard, you couldn’t follow his commands as fast as he wanted.

“I said–” he snapped harshly. Instantly, you felt fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing your head up. Justin’s hand squeezed, cutting air off. “Look at me when you talk.”

His grip tightened. “Go ahead– say it. Tell me where you were.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t even get air in your lungs, let alone formulate words.

Justin’s eyebrow raised. For a moment, he actually looked like he was enjoying this.

“No?” he asked. “Nothing? Are you finally done lying to me?”

You tried to inhale– but when nothing came, more panic settled in your stomach. You squirmed, needing air fast. Your hands raised to grab his forearm, desperate for him to let go. You tried to breathe again– but when air still didn’t come, you dug your nails into his skin without thinking– scratching him, hoping that would help. Except, you were so panicked, you had no concept of how hard you actually scratched him. Your nails broke through the skin– causing him to release your throat.

“You bitch,” he hissed. Before you could even take a breath, you felt something collide with the side of your face, sending your head whipping to the side.

Your head hung for a moment while your brain tried to comprehend what was happening.

Justin had hit you– and there was currently something warm dripping down the side of your head. As you were hunched over, you felt something then collide with your stomach– hard. His knee maybe? You couldn’t tell–

“You let some man drive you home to my house!” he yelled, hand closing around your throat again. This time, he launched you backwards, whipping your head into the wall forcefully. “And then you come in and you fucking lie about it?”

You grasped at his wrist– not scratching, but trying to get him to loosen his grip. You couldn’t breathe– no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” you tried to say, but all that came out was a gasp.

You attempted to look at him– hoping he could see how sincere you were being. But when you gazed up, your stomach just dropped. His eyes were menacing– black, empty. He looked like he could kill you right here and now and not care in the slightest.

Justin’s grip tightened, you could feel each individual finger as it dug deeper into your skin, cutting off your airway– crushing your windpipe.

You were going to die– You were going to die and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You dug your nails into his skin again, you flailed– you slapped with what energy you had left. But nothing was working. Your vision was blurring– dark edges starting to create a tunnel around the world. He was too strong– and you were going to die.

Until suddenly, with no warning, Justin’s grip loosened.

Instantly, you slid to the floor– coughing and choking as you gasped for air.

You waited for whatever would come next– a kick to the ribs, something clattering over your head. But instead, you heard his footsteps retreating.

You willed yourself to look up– through foggy vision clouded by tears, you saw Justin backing out of the kitchen, his eyes wide.

“I-I–” he stammered. “I didn’t–” For a moment he paused, like he was frozen in place, before shaking his head.

You were too focused on trying to breathe regularly again to make sense of the look of remorse seemingly on his face before he darted out of the room.

Although he was out of your sight, you knew Justin couldn’t be far. And you knew that, despite the fact that you were sputtering and could barely breathe, you had to get out of that house. With what little strength you had left, you pushed yourself off the floor. Your back throbbed from being thrown against the wall, while a wave of dizziness overcame you. You all but staggered to where you’d dropped your bag earlier, doing a quick scan of the room before grabbing the strap and hauling it over your shoulder.

You hurried to the front door, hand on the knob, when you paused.

Where the hell were you supposed to go?

And then Luke’s words from earlier flashed through your mind.

Promise me you’ll call if you need anything.

You couldn’t– you thought. You’d already asked him for so much. But he did make you promise. And honestly, you couldn’t think of anyone in the world aside from him that you’d talk to about what had just happened.

Suddenly, you heard movement from upstairs.

You didn’t have time to toggle back and forth. You had to make a decision.

Before you could second guess anything, you grabbed your phone from your pocket, pulled up Luke’s contact info, and hurried out the door.

…

The second your name flashed across his screen, Luke knew he shouldn’t have left. Granted, he was only four minutes down the road– but he wished he had listened to his gut and just stayed.

He slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

He was met by an eerie silence.

“Hello?” he repeated.

“Luke–” Your voice sounds so small– so choked up. “I’m sorry– I–”

He waited a moment, hanging on to each word you spoke like it was a prayer.

“Could you– maybe… could you come back? I’m so sorry– I–”

Luke was already turning his truck around before you could finish your choppy sentence.

“I’m on my way,” he assured you. “Stay right there, okay?”

He was pretty sure he heard you agree before the line went dead. But regardless, Luke was back at your house in an instant. The second he put his truck in park, he was already undoing his seatbelt and launching himself out of the car.

He had no idea what he was walking into– all he knew was that he had to get you out of there. What the hell could this asshole have said to you to have you so shaken up over the phone?

He imagined knocking on the door– finding you tear streaked and trembling. It made his insides roar with anger before even seeing you.

Except, when Luke turned the corner of his truck. He didn’t have to reach the front door to see you. He didn’t even have to walk across your lawn. Instead, you were hunched over on the curb, face buried in your hands while your whole body shook.

Luke’s shoulders fell– your name tumbling from his lips as he approached you.

He had prepared for trembling– he had prepared for crying. But what he wasn’t prepared for, was seeing your face, bloodied and bruised when you looked up at him.

He stopped dead in his tracks, everything inside of him turning to ice at the sight.

“Where is he?” Luke managed to choke out. His voice sounded muffled and distant in his own ears.

You let out a shaky breath before attempting to smile– like you were trying to somehow convince him that you were okay. The cut on your lip stretched as you did, making you wince. “Inside,” you whispered.

He nodded once. As much as he didn’t want to leave you out here alone, Luke couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll kill him,” he said through gritted teeth. And just like that, he was off– taking long strides towards the front door. He had no idea what your house looked like– no idea where he’d find that asshole lurking. All Luke knew was that he was going to pay for what he did to you.

He had tunnel vision– the only thing in front of him was a blind, rageful desire to hurt that piece of shit as much as he had hurt you. He was narrowing in on the front door– just a few steps away… until he heard something break through the fog.

It was you– your voice so soft and broken, calling out to him desperately. He turned around, blinders widening to see you standing on the lawn, chest heaving and tears falling down your cheeks quickly.

“Please Luke–” you begged. “Please don’t. I want to leave. Please, can we leave?”

He paused, but only for a second before all of his anger melted away in an instant.

He nodded, knowing right there– in that moment, that he would do absolutely anything for you at the drop of a hat. In a few quick steps, he was back at your side, hand hovering near your lower back just in case you needed extra support.

“We can go,” he said gently, purposely keeping his voice as calm as he could. “Let’s get you in the truck.”

After only a couple of steps, Luke noticed that you were limping. He felt a wave of tears burning behind his eyes. He was frustrated– angry. With your boyfriend, but mostly with himself. He knew he shouldn’t have left. He knew it in his gut. He should have been there– maybe if he’d stayed, he would’ve heard the yelling– he could’ve stepped in before things got this bad.

“Can you get up, okay?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for you.

You nodded, reaching up for the handle bar. He watched as you winced– just the extension of your torso causing your breathing to increase.

“You’re alright,” he said. “Let me help.”

He made sure to wait for you to nod before he placed his hand against your lower back. Ever so gently, he supported your weight so that you could hoist yourself up into the front seat.

“There you go,” he said, once you were safely tucked inside. He closed the door and turned to head to the driver’s side. Just as he did, he caught a flash of movement from the direction of your house. When he looked, he saw Justin standing on the front porch. Even from the road, Luke could see the tears glistening in his eyes.

He felt the familiar anger from earlier resurfacing inside of him. It tightened in his chest– burned in his stomach. He envisioned himself crossing the lawn– grabbing Justin by the shirt collar– launching his fist right into his jaw.

Luke inhaled deeply before looking back towards you. You were staring at him, crying again, your face riddled with fear. Because you knew exactly what he was imagining, and it made you afraid.

Luke’s insides softened.

No.

He would not just be another man who scared you tonight. Luke wanted to be someone you felt safe with.

Without looking back, he hurried along the front of his hood and climbed into his side of the truck. He put the truck in drive and calmly accelerated down the road– away from everything that had ever hurt you.

…

It was only when you were in the safe confinement of Luke’s truck that you realized how bad you were shaking.

The further you got from the house, the more the events from that evening sank into your brain. You’d seen this before with victims– once their adrenaline calmed down and they actually realized they were safe, fight or flight wasn’t protecting them anymore.

There was so much you wanted to say to Luke. But you could barely muster up the strength to breathe, let alone explain yourself.

But you knew that you had to say something. You inhaled shakily and picked at the loose hangnail on your thumb. “Luke, I’m so sorry,” you said, breaking through the thick silence.

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding on. He hadn’t said a word since you’d been on the road and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. Was he angry? Annoyed? Frustrated?

Luke grimaced. “Please don’t apologize,” he said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You bit your lip to keep any tears from spilling out– you’d cried enough in front of Luke for one day. “I just meant that I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything.”

Something in his tone just seemed so off– so curt. You desperately needed to make this right.

“Is there a hotel or something on the way to your place? You don’t have to go out of your way– you can just drop me off, I don’t want to inconvenience you–”

Luke hit the breaks, his truck coming to a stop as he pulled over on the side of the road. After shifting the gear, he turned in his seat to look at you.

“I’m not inconvenienced by you. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel. You’re coming to my place, and I’m going to clean up your cuts, and then I’m going to make you dinner.”

“Luke–” you started to protest but he shook his head.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. “Please, let me do this– Otherwise… otherwise I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

Your brows furrowed. “Forgive yourself? What are you talking about?”

Luke shook his head, his dark mop of curls unruly after the long day. Slowly, he lifted his head and gazed out of the windshield, like he was deep in thought.

“I knew something was wrong– I mean, I heard the way he spoke to you in the garage. After you told me he slashed your tires… I just knew. I knew something bad would happen when I dropped you off, but I tried to convince myself I was just being dramatic– or paranoid. But I knew– and I didn’t listen. I left you, and you got hurt. So please, let me make you dinner and give you a safe place to be tonight. It’s the least I can do.”

Your mouth hung open– whatever you thought was going on in Luke’s mind, it wasn’t that. Before you could think twice, you leaned forward in your seat and gathered his hand in yours. His warm skin touched yours– sending shockwaves through your entire body.

“None of this was your fault,” you assured him. “In fact, you've shown me more kindness in the last few hours than I think Justin has shown me in the last year. I’m so grateful it was you who came and got me tonight, Luke.”

The words came out so easily– probably because of how true they were.

His gaze flickered towards yours– eyes glistening with unshed tears. He spun his hand, so that your palms pressed against each other, before lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently.

“You know I’ll never let him hurt you again, right?” he asked.

His words sent chills down your spine. You did know, but you weren't sure if you were ready to admit that or not. So instead, you changed the subject.

"Are we almost to your house?"

Luke shrugged. "Not really- I'm closer to Stafford, probably thirty five minutes."

You frowned. "Stafford? That's the opposite direction. I thought you said my place was on your way home."

A smirk crept across Luke's face. "That might've been a tiny lie."

"Luke!" you exclaimed.

He let out a laugh. "What? I knew you wouldn't have gotten in the car otherwise. Am I wrong?"

You let out a huff of air, hating the fact that he was right.

As he put the truck in drive and continued down the road, you squeezed his hand back.

#luke alvez imagine #luke alvez #luke alvez fic #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #luke alvez angst #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader imagine

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violetsareblue-selfships · 6 months ago

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good morning!! <333

#hehe we got information for xavier's birthday #i don't usually pull for him (i need to save diamonds somehow) but i want the card hehe #cuties dancing together near a fountain at night #plus i need more of his cards for like deepspace trials + hunter contests and stuff :3 #anyways #i'll start the archon quest this morning #i'm so pleased that 5.1 doesn't have more exploration #i was hyping myself up for it and i don't have to worry about it :3 #likely 5.2 will but that's later #for star rail - i think i got firefly mostly done - she's at like 70%ish break effect which could be better #but like most of mine are mediocre right now #so i either start building another or something :3 #i played both echoes & wuwa last night (like i'm so near the beginning for wuwa it's ridiculous)#anyways i need to write tomorrow's prompt sometime today in addition to getting groceries lol #sounds like a busy-ish day lol #i hope that today/tonight are good to you!!! <333 #morning rambles #(actually putting some meaning behind the word rambles in that tag ^^)

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lis-likes-fics · 1 month ago

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Compromising Positions

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!Reader Word Count: 5.2k words Prompt: Mutual Masturbation Warnings: NSFW, smut, caught masturbating, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs, mentions of ovulation, swearing... A/N: I'm doing this with nails on. I have already crashed out three times. If anything is wrong, that is why. No beta, we die like Hayley. Thank you and enjoy.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

For one, you just finished a case. The details were still fresh in your mind, morbid and murky. You should be disgusted by even the notion of doing something like this so close to these murders that you've been chasing with your team.

And if that didn't stop you, the fact that you had to share a room with your (hot) boss should have. You could at least have the decency not to masturbate in a bed that you'll be sharing with another person—especially your boss.

But he was out getting food for the team, and the case was poorly timed to take place right as you started ovulating. You had a lot of self-control, but you can only take so much.

Ideally, you should wait until tomorrow when you would all return to Virginia to lay in your own beds for the night. But the thought of waiting one more night before relieving all of the stress and tension in your body makes you want to cry.

You figured you could be quick. How hard could it be to cum one time before Hotch came back, especially when you're this wound up already?

Unfortunately, Hotch isn't a person who takes his time.

You don't hear the card swiping outside the door, or the lock unclicking to allow him entry. You realize he's there far too late, pulling your head up from its place against the headboard and snatching your hand from between your legs with a gasp.

You quickly grab the covers, pulling them over your lower half to cover yourself up as you see Hotch standing in the doorway. This is probably the first time you've ever seen this man actually fazed—even if it is simply widened eyes and pink tinted cheeks.

“Oh, my God,” you gasp, feeling heat on every surface of your body and sinking into the bone.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, plastic bag rustling on his arm as he swiftly goes to close the door once more. “My apologies. I'll—let you finish.”

“No, no, no!” You say quickly, burying your face in your hands to try to hide yourself from him as much as possible. “No, I'm done. I'm sorry. That was so bad.”

“No, it's not,” he scrambles to reassure you from the door, his body blocking anyone from peering in and seeing you in such a compromising state. “I understand. Do what you need to do.”

You move as much as you can with your body still shielded, grabbing your sweatpants to pull them over your body again. “No, really. It's fine, I'm done.”

You stand with your back to him, face still in your hands. The shame sinks even deeper when your fingers still smell like your arousal. You hear the door close behind him, the rustle of the bag against a desk telling you that he decided to stay, after all.

You swallow thickly, trying to shove down the humiliation (and a whisper of more arousal that's making you want to scream) to no avail.

“I'm sorry, Hotch,” you say, your back still facing him. Your voice is softer, but still chalkful of the shame eating away at you. “That was so unprofessional and—God, this is embarrassing.” You mumble the last part to yourself.

“It's not,” he tries to assure you once more. “Really, I understand. You don't have to feel embarrassed, at all.”

You can't bring yourself to face him, but you slowly turn your body halfway toward him to bridge the gap. He's standing across the room, the both of you separated by the bed.

“Easier said than done.”

Any time you imagined him, you imagined it in a very different way. You thought of him walking in to find you like that, but it was usually followed up by him climbing on top of you and taking the job over himself. Or maybe he's suddenly pushing you up against a wall in a hungry kiss, his knee between your thighs, his hand achingly close to your throat–

This is doing nothing for your horniness.

You half-excuse yourself, slipping into the small bathroom to splash some cold water on your face in an effort to calm you. When that doesn't work, you give up and wash the hell out of your hands to try and get the smell out.

Over the next hour, the two of you hardly say anything. You eat in relative silence, he takes his shower, and then you both try to find sleep. Which is also easier said than done.

You lay on your side, wide awake, trying not to press your thighs together as the ache grows and grows. You need a release. You need it so bad, you feel like it's going to eat you up.

“Are you…still awake?”

You swallow thickly, debating whether or not you should just say no. But he'll know if you're lying, just like you'd probably know if he was (he's a better liar than you).

“Yeah.” You keep replaying your little incident in your head, over and over and over again. It's maddening in more ways than one, which is only making it more maddening.

“Do you…” he hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not necessarily. You think if you talk about it with him, you'll only make your own situation worse, and you'll have to be removed from the unit for indecency or, God forbid, sexual harassment.

But you really don't want to sit in uncomfortable silence, and maybe talking about it to absolutely ensure that there is no issue might help.

“Sure.”

You both slowly sit up. He turns on the bedside lamp. You sort of just…sit there in more silence as you wait for someone to speak.

“I want to start by reiterating…” he says slowly, “that you do not have to feel embarrassed in any way. Really, I understand.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. You have to clear your throat, but it doesn't make you any bolder, or any louder for that matter. “Still, I'm…I'm sorry for this. I thought I could…” you fill your lungs with air, “be quick.”

He reaches over gently to place a hand on your knee. Every instinct is telling you to move his hand from you, as the warmth of his palm is going straight to your head and making you embarrassingly dizzy, but you don't. Because it's warm and it feels nice.

You try to find your voice, looking down at your own hands instead of at his or his face. “You know I'm not usually like this.”

“I know.”

“I just…” You take a breath. “This case was very poorly timed, and… and I'm ovulating. Otherwise I wouldn't be such a horn dog. It really is an accident. I'd never want to make you or anyone else feel uncomfortable and–”

He says your name gently. You were rambling. You nod gently in understanding, trying to pull a shy grin over your lips in an attempt to ease the heat in your face from trying to explain yourself.

“I feel the only way to ease your nerves about being in such a…compromising position, would be to compromise myself in return.” His voice is calm, as gentle and as natural as it would be if you were talking about your weekend or how great the weather has been.

“You don't have to,” you say, though your voice is a whisper. The thought of learning something him compromising about him is making it hard to think straight.

“It's alright.” He takes his own breath, and as you finally glance up at him to see his face. For the first time, you spot a hint of disheveled nerves on him—hair slightly tosseled, cheeks still lightly dusted in a gentle pink hue. It is doing nothing to help you.

“I hope I don't make you uncomfortable by admitting to this,” he speaks very quietly, as if consoling you, “but I…enjoyed seeing you before.”

If you weren't hot before, you are not. Not just hot—you're burning. Something in swirling in your gut, and your criss-crossed position provides no pressure where you need it. What's worse, if he looks at you for even a moment, you know for certain that he would be able to read it all on your face in just a single moment.

“You…” you clear your throat like the words got caught. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods lightly. “To be quite honest with you, I have found myself developing certain feelings for you over the last few months.”

You feel like you've been shot in the heart, a shock that makes it stop beating for a few moments before pumping so quickly, it feels like it's trying to keep it going before you collapse.

“Really?” You hate how pathetic you sound. “Like…actually? You're not just trying to flatter me to make me feel better?”

He laughs gently, finally looking at you once more. Fuck, you need him so badly right now, and it's eating you alive.

“No, I'm not.” His hand squeezes gently, but never in any kind of imposing way. He's very kind and comforting. Either way, you try not to squirm. “You're an excellent agent, an even better person… YourYou're beautiful, smart, kind. There's a lot to fall for.”

His tone is analytical, as if it's the only way he'll be able to get the words out. If he pretends he profiling, maybe it won't be so difficult to admit something less logical, so emotional.

“Well,” you hum. “That’s…honestly a relief because I've had eyes for you since the beginning… Which I feel like I should not have said.”

You go to shield your face again, but he lifts his hands to your wrists, touching you so gently. “Don't hide,” he nearly whispers. “I did just tell you you're beautiful, didn't I? I want to see your face.”

You're hanging on by a thread. His thumbs are stroking soothing circles into your pulse points, your ears are thrumming with the beating of your heart. You think if you don't have him one you right now, you'll literally and truly die.

“Can I kiss you?”

Aaron doesn't answer you. Instead, he's catching your lips in his with a fervor that has you moaning into his mouth. Your hands come to his neck, their warmth sinking into his skin as you cradle him. You push up onto your knees, so eager to feel him everywhere.

“Aaron,” you whimper. You're brimming with need.

The sound of his name on your tongue makes him grab at your hips, more rough than he had intended as he pulls you flush against his body. You sigh into his mouth, melting against him as he pulls you close.

“I know,” he mumbles as you paw at each other like horny teenagers. He's becoming painfully hard in his pants, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to lick and suck and nibble at your skin. He's being so careful not to leave any marks for the team to suspect in the morning, but it becomes increasingly difficult the more you grasp one another.

“I need you.” The words fall before you can even think them up. “Please. Need you so bad. Please.” You had not intended to become such a mess so quickly. All he's done is kiss you, trail his hands along your back and sides, and you're melting against him and begging for him to touch you.

“We can't,” he breathes regretfully, though he keeps kissing you.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes now shining with a hint of apprehension at the prospect of rejection after such a confession. “Why not?”

He's quick to assure you, one hand under your chin and the other at the small of your back. “I want to. Trust me, I want to.” He's catching his breath, lips pink from kissing you so much. He kisses you again just to seal his words. “But I don't have a condom. And if you're ovulating, then it's probably not a good idea for us to…”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Yes, you're right.”

He pulls you into another kiss before you can try to pull back and second guess yourself. You sink into it easily, letting him lay you down against the mattress. He pulls gently at the hem of your shirt, muttering against your lips. “Can I take this off?”

Your nod is emphatic. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smiles at your lips, embracing you for the hundredth time, only pulling away to pull your shirt over your head. Your mouths are hungry things searching for each other, begging and yearning for the other like they've been kept apart for far too long.

His hand immediately comes up to cup your breast. Though it starts off as a gentle touch, he's quickly groping you with eager, greedy hands as he palms and kneads and soaks up the sound of your pants and moans.

It's hard to think when he touches you like this. You've dreamt of this so many times that you wouldn't know where to begin if he wasn't kissing you so feverishly.

You take his shirt off next, too intent on seeing him, feeling him. He helps you remove it and toss it haphazardly across the room. You lay your hands flat at his sides. His abs are not defined, but they're firm and they're warm, not quite a “dad bod” but close enough to make you drool. (You were drooling anyway.) His skin is soft and smooth, and you quickly get greedy in feeling him.

His finger hooks around the waistband of your sweatpants. He places kisses to your neck and collarbone, sucking bruises at the top of your breasts where they can be hidden but he'll always know are there. “Can I take these off?” he asks again, a little more tentative.

You look him in the eyes, feeling incredibly hot and incredibly needy. “Yeah, please.”

He smiles at you, keeping eye contact as he slowly brings them down your thighs, your legs, off your ankles. When he takes in the sight of you, it's with silent breath and darkened eyes.

You hear him curse under his breath, and if your mind wasn't so foggy with desire, you'd be shocked—maybe even tease him over it. “You're so beautiful,” he says, one hand stroking your side soothingly. “All of you. You're perfect.”

You don't know how to answer him. He's bleeding with sincerity. You give your gratitude in the form of another hungry kiss, cupping his face and scratching at a barely-there stubble with your nails.

“I wanna see you,” you mutter into his mouth. You can vaguely feel the smallest outline of him when he brushes up against your thigh. But it's not enough. You want a full view, full access to him. “Please, can I see you?”

He's already yanking down his sweatpants with far less care than he had shown you. You look between your bodies with a sigh. He's thick, his tip already leaking at how evidently needy he is for you. You stare for longer than you should, clenching around nothing as your fingers itch to touch it.

“Can I…?” Your voice is quiet, a shy request.

Aaron gives a bashful chuckle. “I'm afraid it'll end too soon if you do…” This pulls a smile from you, which spreads his own grin out wide. “Yes.”

You chew on your bottom lip, reaching a hand out to run your knuckles along the bottom of it. It kicks up at your touch, pulling a hiss from between his teeth. You stifle your grin, apologizing briefly as he reassures you that he's fine.

He's very warm, with a texture like velvet. You drag your fingers slowly—unintentionally teasing him—along his length.

You watch his face contort, squeezing in concentration and what looks like pain. His cheeks are flushed, his teeth bared slightly. He reaches out a hand, grabbing yours without cruelty to stop your teasing strokes. “Okay, okay.” He catches his breath. “I'm sorry, I just… I need a minute.”

“S’okay,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, an effort to ease him. He smiles into your lips and eases onto one elbow. He's crowding your lower half, so close that his body heat is becoming your own. You don't mind. It's a comfort you would be content to live in as he boxes you in with his body, leaning on you considerately as his thumb continues to stroke your side.

When you pull away with a gentle smack, he hums as he stares up at you. His eyes are dark and intense, and you struggle to hold his gaze as you shy away with a shallow giggle.

He encourages your face back with his knuckle beneath your chin. “Show me how you do it.”

You're taken off guard by his request. Your brows furrow slightly as you cup his face. “How I do what?” He stares a moment longer, and your eyes widen a bit. “Touch myself?”

He smiles, and your breath is taken away. Aaron Hotchner is not a man who smiles often, especially like this. He smiles at you with teeth, pearly whites that light up his whole face and make him ten times more handsome (you hadn't even known that was possible).

“You want to see me touch myself?” you confirm, sounding more hesitant than you feel. His eyes droop lightly as you continue to scratch his light stubble. He hums his response, a gentle nod.

“If you don't want to, I'm not going to make you,” he assures, ever the gentleman. “I never want to make you uncomfortable in any way. I just want to admire you. All of you.”

“I want to,” you say too quickly. You want to show him everything. He's the kind of person who would sleep out in the hallway if it made you feel more comfortable, but you would rather spend the night in the closet than have him be cold and alone out there. He's so kind and so gentle and so handsome, that showing him something like this isn't anything you're opposed to in any way. “I just…have never done anything like that before.”

“That’s fine,” he coos. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your belly with a warm sigh. Your breath shudders as you run your fingers through his hair. “I'll do it with you, so it isn't awkward.”

You nod slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mhm.”

He kisses you lightly, his lips curled in an elated grin. “Lay back, sweet girl.”

You do as you're told, though his voice is anything but commanding. There's nothing assertive about it. It's a simple request born out of a kind of adoration that makes you warm from the inside out.

You lay against the headboard of the bed, missing his warmth when he moves off of you to sit by your side. Your shoulders brush one another as he sits close, gazing at you and assessing every feature on your face. To make sure you're okay.

You smile up at him, trying not to hide yourself away as you keep your legs uncrossed. He sets a hand on your knee, slowly encouraging it farther apart with enough gentleness to give you full power to refuse. You let him move it without quarrel, watching his face as he watches yours.

His legs spread as well, and he pulls one of yours to rest over one of his, keeping you effectively open. He stares at you, your pussy slick with your arousal, and sighs deeply. He's hard, his cock resting against his lower belly where a string of precum connects him to it.

Aaron takes his cock in his hand, squeezes the base with a grunt. You feel his leg twitch lightly beneath your own as you watch him, the way he strokes himself so slowly. You chew on your lip, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal stirs in your belly.

Slowly, you bring your hand to rest on your inner thigh. Your fingers tremble slightly, nerves and shyness, as you bring them closer to where you need to be touched.

You stifle a moan when you press the pad of your finger to your clit. Aaron's eyes watch you closely, admiring the way your fingers move as you tease yourself with shy hands.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. He watches you glide your fingers through your folds, wet with an embarrassing amount of arousal. “Show me how you do it.”

You slowly dip a finger inside of you, letting out the smallest sound as you push it in as far as you can reach. It's not nearly as far as you need it as you let your head lean against his shoulder.

He smiles, his hand becoming a little more insistent as he watches you bury your finger inside of yourself. Your eyes are locked on one another, mesmerized by the sight of the other's pleasure.

“Good, good girl,” he hums, flicking his wrist as he grasps the head of his cock. You add a second finger, curling it inside of you. It feels good, being able to touch yourself and relieve the ache that's been weighing on you all day, especially under his gaze that seems far more appreciative than it should be. “You're so pretty, honey. So pretty.”

He kisses your temple, raising his free hand to tilt your chin up for another kiss. You indulge him happily, humming into his mouth and letting your fingers brush against that sponge spot inside of you that makes you moan.

You roll your hips forward, feeling your need tightening in the pit of your stomach. “Aaron,” you whisper. “Fuck, I need more.” He squeezes his cock absently, your words ending shivers down his spine. “Need you to touch me. Please.”

His breath shudders. “You want my fingers inside of you, is that it?”

You stifle a moan, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Yes, please.” You lean further into him, your head in the crook of his neck. “Mine aren't big enough. I need you.”

He's a goner. Aaron reaches over, stroking your thigh with a large, warm hand and kneading the flesh thoughtfully. You let your lips part, your breaths a little heavier. His hand covers yours, pressing his fingers into your knuckles to push them farther inside of you. You whisper a curse, turning your face into his shoulder.

He slowly pulls your fingers out of you, leans in to kiss you in a way that's almost greedy. His hand squeezes your upper thigh gently before dipping between them. You open your legs wider to give him more space to move, sighing into his lips when you feel his fingers rubbing against you.

He spreads your lips apart, strokes his finger through them and consumes any whimpers you let slip. When the pad of his finger brushes against your clit, your hips jerk lightly, and you feel his lips curling against your own.

“I'm going to put them inside now,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, overwhelmed with desire. “Okay.”

He kisses you again just as he presses one finger inside of you. You hum into his mouth, raising a hand to rest against his chest. His finger reaches much deeper than your own, offers more girth for you to squeeze around as he slips in and out slowly, your slick allowing for easy movement.

“Fuck, Aaron,” you whisper. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he grins gently, kissing you one more. You nod, your sounds worsening when you feel a second finger prodding at you. When he slips it inside, your lips go slack against his. “How about that?”

“Oh, God,” you breathe. You try not to squirm against him, clenching as he thrusts them too slowly, in and out of you with a rhythm made to drive you crazy. You feel like you'll stop breathing as the pleasure swarms in your brain.

When he curls his fingers inside of you, you have to hold back the moan threatening to slip past. He watches you, enamored by the look on your face, desire and pleasure written in every crease.

“How is that, honey?”

“Good.” As his pace slowly builds, thrusting and curling until you can't keep up, you have to purse your lips to keep from crying out. Aaron is a gentle man, as he'd been a gentle lover, but the way he fingers you is making it hard to think straight. “Fuck, so good. Please don't stop.”

His breath has picked up just listening to yours. Your soft moans are making it very hard to calm himself as his cock twitches against his belly. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, showering you in affection as he continues to touch you like it's his life's mission.

You can't help yourself from riding his hand. Arousal is leaking out of you, and part of you feels guilty as you feel it beginning to wet the sheets beneath you.

You reach blindly for Aaron, your breath heavy and your skin hot. He hisses when your fingers wrap around his cock, and you whine at the size of him. You wish it was inside of you so badly—you know it would feel so good to have him stretching you out.

You stroke him, too dizzy with pleasure to tease or go slow as you drag your fist up and down the length of him. “God, you feel so good,” you breathe into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles, though the sound is more breath than laugh. “I should be telling you that.” You mimic his sound.

You squeeze him, perhaps too much because one of his hands comes to slow your pace with a grunt he's trying so hard not to let out in full sound. “You've got to slow down, honey, or this will be over far too soon.”

You smile, the knowledge that you're riling him up so much going straight to your head. Your reply is a kiss to his neck, which quickly becomes two kisses, which becomes three and so on. He sighs with each kiss, fingering you still with as much fervor as you'd shown before.

You moan out his name, brimming with want. Your pace is steady on him, not as fast as before but just as stimulating as you peek up at his face, concentration deep in his features. When you flick your wrist, he grunts and pulls his fingers out of you, though he never stops touching you.

You whine at the loss, feeling him sliding your arousal all over your pussy as you bite down at your lower lip. “Please don't stop,” you murmur, your voice almost weak with how badly you need him.

He just shushes you gently, smiling once again at the surprised moan that comes out of you as he starts rubbing at your clit. You bury your face in the crook of his neck again, inhaling his scent and trying to stifle your moans as your pace kicks up on his cock.

“You're so messy, sweet girl,” he coos. His claim is supported by the lewd sounds coming from between your legs as his fingers rub quickly over your eager clit. Your hips cant up into his hand, his words sending intense shivers bolting up your spine. “And your thighs are shaking so much.”

Your fingers squeeze around him, precum dribbling over the top of them and making it easier to tug at his cock. His teeth clench as he feels himself growing more and more breathless.

“Fuck,” you gasp lightly. “I'm gonna cum, Aaron.” His calloused fingers catch your clit in a way that has a shocked mewl pulling out of you. “Please, Aaron, don't stop.”

He doesn't, not even for a moment. He seems more eager for you to cum than even you. You ride his hand, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Your moans are building as you struggle to keep quiet.

“Good. Good girl, c’mon. Cum for me, sweet girl.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

And just like that, you're falling off the edge as the pleasure blossoms inside of you. You squeeze your fist around his cock, tugging a couple more times before he's spilling out over your hand and his tummy with a barely stifled moan.

You both shudder, his hand still working you through your orgasm as your brain goes fuzzy and your limbs fill with bliss. Your moan of his name is pressed into his skin in an attempt to stay relatively quiet. A noise complaint is the last thing you both need right now, along with the rest of the team finding out about this before any of it is concrete yet.

When the pleasure has faded and he pulls his hand away, you fill your lungs with air and feel yourself going limp as you rest all of your weight on him. He takes it welcomingly. His hand still rubs along your inner thighs, soothing you with gentle shushes, still sounding quite breathless himself.

“You did so good for me, honey.” He turns your face to kiss you, making you moan into his mouth as his hand slips between your thighs to glide between your soaked pussy. He grunts at how wet you are, licking into your mouth and securing his arm around you as you melt against him.

He leans over you, and you smile at his warmth. You raise a hand gently to his face, the hand not sticky with his cum, and hum into his mouth.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “I needed that so bad.”

His response is a light chuckle, tender with affection and post-orgasmic exhaustion. “I'm happy to help,” he says. “And if you need any more in the future, I'm here.”

Your stomach flips a little at his words, the prospect of the future seeming quite exciting to you now.

Aaron sits up slowly, a sigh dragging out of him as he stands to move in the direction of the bathroom. He fetches a wet towelette to clean you up with, his movements so gentle and kind as he wipes away all the arousal. He takes your hands in his large ones, wiping his own release away with a tenderness that melts your heart.

He cleans himself hastily in order to join you in bed. He lays back, pulling you close to lay your head on his chest. You sigh longingly, stroking his chest and holding him close. You still feel a little eager, but it has been toned down considerably.

He smells good, like the cologne you'd gifted him on his birthday, and something else you can't quite place. Something uniquely him.

“You smell nice,” you hum.

He laughs, a rumbling in his chest that makes you smile. “Thank you,” he says. “You smell wonderful.”

You turn your head to kiss his chest, letting sleep tug at you. Aaron's hand rubs gently at your back. “Go to sleep, honey.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and holds you close.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine oneshot #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x f!reader #tangerine x female!reader #bullet train #bullet train movie #bullet train 2022 #tangerine atj #atj tangerine #atj #atj character

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