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imyimsorryy · 29 days ago

Text

i bet you think about me

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: kidnapping, usual cm violence, kinda emotional cheating (not on each other), mentions of a hook up, angst —> fluff

no use of y/n

word count: 7k

“This isn’t working.”

It’s a punch straight to your gut. The words echo in your mind as you drive home, void of any emotion. The radio is muted, and the dull falling of snow does nothing to help your melancholy.

You love him, part of you always has. From the moment you stepped into the BAU, you knew he would ruin you. You just didn’t think it’d be like this—so close to the holidays you cherish.

Your phone rings from the empty passenger seat, you glance over, spotting Penelope’s picture flashing on the small screen. You ignore it, you aren’t in the mood to talk to anyone. The call ceases after a minute, but then the screen is lighting up again with a voicemail and a text message. You sigh, reaching over to press play on the message.

‘Hey babydoll, me and Prentiss are going Christmas shopping tomorrow, you in? Call me back, love ya.’

At least she doesn’t suspect the heartbreak you just experienced.

It had been a long case, the grueling cold of Minnesota only heightened everyone’s grumpiness. Christmas is in a week, everyone just wanted to get home to their loved ones.

Aaron had been snapping at you—and then when you separated from him and Derek to capture the unsub, he had snapped. He never yelled at you in front of the team like he did that day. You felt like a little kid again, being scolded over anything. You can’t get the pitiful face of JJ out of your mind.

You type a quick, ‘Sorry, I’m busy’ before throwing your phone back on the seat, redirecting your full attention to the road in front of you.

Your apartment is dark when you open the door, the bare walls and cold floor are what drive you to open the bottle of red wine stashed in your pantry.

The loneliness of it all—of having someone so tantalizingly close, and then losing it too much. His touch, his lingering glances, and whispered promises linger in your mind. The way his hand would brush yours while passing files or how he’d tap his knee to yours during a briefing; all of it is etched into your memory.

By the third pouring of wine you abandon the glass, opting to just drink it straight from the bottle. The TV plays a shitty reality show, you almost laugh as you listen to the rich snobs complaining about what to wear.

You lay your head on the back of the couch, and in the process of kicking your feet onto the coffee table you accidentally knock the glass over, spilling the remaining droplets of red wine and glass shards onto the light colored rug beneath you.

Normally you’d have cursed the universe for it, laughed a little, then cleaned it up. But now, you just stare at it. Broken and bloody—as dramatic as it sounds it’s how you feel at the moment, and you can’t bring yourself to get up and grab the broom.

You twist your body so you're laying down on the couch, and you fall asleep listening to the annoying voices on the TV and the smell of grapes.

You’re awoken to the sound of an incessant knocking on your front door. You’re not sure what time it is, but the sunlight peeking in through your blinds gives you enough clues to estimate.

You contemplate ignoring it, but then the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, it’s Aaron. Maybe he’s hurting the way you are, maybe he’s sorry. In the process of getting up you feel glass crack on your bare foot, followed by a searing pain and a red footprint when you step off of it.

The knocking still doesn’t stop, and you conclude that you have to answer no matter what, so you can at least make whoever it is patch your foot up.

Blonde and black hair are all you see in the peephole, of course they came to get you anyway.

“Hey sweets.” Penelope is far too happy for you to understand, your head is already pounding from your previous wine drunk state.

You open the door wide enough for them to come in, and Emily notices your pained expression, before casting her eyes downward. “Jesus, what happened?”

“I stepped on glass.” You stumble slightly, gripping her shoulder to hold you up. Emily looks around your living room. She notices the empty wine bottle, the stained carpet, the messy blankets thrown about the room. She turns her attention back to you as Penelope searches for a first aid kit. “Are you drunk?” Penelope laughs, Emily gives her a look.

You hear Penelope mumble something about profilers as she approaches you with bandages and tweezers.

You try to get out of Christmas shopping, but part of you can use the distraction. The holiday lights flicker on the street, the sunlight making it hardly noticeable, but you notice.

“Aaron, where are we going?” You laugh, his hands around your eyes causing you to lean into him to steer you. “Just wait.”

A few more feet and he’s finally removing his calloused hands from your eyesight, you open your eyes in awe at the sight in front of you. Christmas lights blind you, from every direction.

In the center of the festively lit town is a large Christmas tree, it’s one you would see in a cartoon with how comically large it is.

Different strings of lights shine brightly and he watches with a wide smile as you take in the site. You love Christmas lights, he’ll never forget when you two drove past a house decked out in them after a hard case. Your eyes had glistened with joy in the passenger seat.

You turn back to him with a smile that could make him faint, and then the whole park goes black.

You’re the first to laugh, the idea that he brought you here to show you the lights just for the power to go out as soon as you arrive makes you gasp for air next to him. He looks grumpy beside you, preparing to pull his badge out to make them fix it for you.

He’d have captured a star for you if it made you smile, but hearing your laugh beside him was enough to snap him out of his annoyance, instead focusing his attention on the beautiful sound coming from you.

He laughs then, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes so your noses are almost touching. “It was beautiful.” You whisper against his lips, he almost tilts his head back with how overwhelming your presence is.

It’s embarrassing, how much of a lovesick teenager you make him feel by just being near him.

“I’ll make them fix it.” He says in return, causing you to laugh again as you press your lips to his pout. “You’re sweet to me.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, instead he presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling away in order to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, there’s more to do.”

Penelope snaps in your face, jolting you out of the trance you found yourself in. “Hey, what’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine.” You sniffle, wiping it with your glove. “Seriously, it’s just cold.” You try your hardest to smile, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know Emily notices, but she doesn’t say anything as you begin walking ahead of them.

You don’t buy anything, your Christmas shopping is long out of the way. You do it every year, you get excited by the upcoming holiday and accidentally buy everyone’s gifts the first week of November.

Aaron had found it endearing, how excited you got at the idea of giving people gifts they’ll enjoy.

“Let’s go in here.” The universe must be out to get you, because the store Penelope turns into is the same one you and Aaron would frequent on your occasional days off. It’s filled with antiques and books, something he didn’t particularly enjoy looking at, but you did.

The day continues on, little things remind you of him everywhere you go. You curse yourself for being so miserable, for letting someone have this effect on you.

You sip a hot chocolate as the sky darkens, pushing the memories of him kissing the whipped cream off your upper lip out of your mind as you wipe it away with a small napkin that Emily hands you.

Penelope is talking to the woman at the booth, asking her all about where her outfit is from, when Emily sighs next to you. “What’s going on?”

You turn to her, a little shocked at her question. You ramble as you attempt to come up with a reason for your sour mood. “Please—I’m fine. What makes you think something’s wrong? Seriously Em—”

“You ramble when you lie.” Emily says as she lifts her paper cup up to her lips. “So, spill.”

You hesitate, you can’t say anything. Nobody on the team even knows about you and Aaron. You’d kept it a secret for a year and a half, you definitely weren’t going to give it up now.

“Did something happen…with Hotch?” It’s like she can read your mind, and you bite your tongue in order to not talk and reveal your lie. Then your eyes widen, remembering that you hadn’t told her about Hotch.

“Hey,” She says your name. “It’s okay, nobody else suspects anything.”

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from rambling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you guys, a few months ago. You know, he smiles more these days.”

You laugh bitterly at that, suddenly angry at her revelation. He wasn’t smiling when he broke your heart.

“Nothing happened Em. Let it go.” Your tone is clipped, and she puts her hands up in surrender, dropping the topic as Penelope approaches the two of you.

Once they drop you back off at home you flop onto your bed. A few seconds pass before you grab one of the pillows and scream into it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The next weeks are torturous. Christmas is spent on a case in Florida, it would have been bearable if Aaron were still yours.

He knows you hate it, a white Christmas is your favorite thing, and the humidity of Florida is the complete opposite.

Hot weather has never been your favorite, the past summer you would complain you were dying every time he forced you to run with him. He thought it was adorable, and the image of you tinged with heat and sunburnt cheeks was one of his favorite sights.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” The current case is a local one, something you’re very grateful for. Sleeping in your own bed is much better than being in a suffocating hotel.

He calls your name, his voice void of his usual softness for you. “I need your report from the Michigan case.”

“I’m working on it.” You say, trying to remain civil as he stares at you. His eyes would usually soften when your tone was like that, stressed. Now he just stares. “Is that all?”

He nods, his voice suddenly dry as he tears his gaze away from you. You shoulder past him out of the conference room, heading towards Spencer as he works the geographical profile.

“There’s something there.” Aaron isn’t sure where Dave came from, but his shoulders slump slightly at the older man’s discovery. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Dave.”

“Sure Aaron.” He claps his shoulder as he walks past him, standing in the same spot you just had. “She’s good for you—after everything.”

Aaron has to fight his scoff, if only he knew how good you were for him. He has no idea that he’d already indulged, already had you for the entirety of a year, and then some.

“I’ll remember that.” His tone leaves no more room for Rossi to speculate on his life, and with that he’s walking out of the room in order to go look at the latest body with Emily.

If Spencer notices your sadness, he doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s become your thing lately, a constant frown decorating your features. “Hey pretty girl.” Derek could usually get you to smile, but lately even those attempts are futile. “Oh come on, nothing? Baby, I don’t remember the last time you shined those pretty teeth.”

“3 weeks and 2.5 days.” Spencer says without looking up from a spot he’s working on the board. “Jesus.” You mutter. You spin your chair to face Derek, mustering up a big smile.

“Here.” You grit through your teeth. “Okay, that’s creeping me out.”

“You wanted a smile.” You shrug, causing Derek to laugh as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you, we all love you.”

This has you turning away from him. We all love you.

“Hey, I think I’ve got something here.” Spencer saves you from continuing your dreaded conversation with Derek.

The case seems to drone on forever, but once you finally find the unsub’s identity you grab your gun, preparing to retrieve your vest.

“You’re staying.” Aaron looks to you, his expression unreadable as you roll your eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“I need you here with Reid.” It’s bullshit, and you know it. But you don’t care enough to fight him on it, so you scoff before walking towards the small kitchen to get yourself some coffee.

Emily walks up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your back. “He’s protecting you.”

“Emily, don’t.”

“Why don’t you talk to him?” She persists, moving around you. “Don’t you need to go with them?” You ask, shrugging her off. She doesn’t say anything else, and you make a sour face at her pitiful expression.

Aaron spares you a glance as he leaves, your eyes meeting for a split second. But as quickly as the spark was there it was gone, and you're returning to the paperwork in front of you. He notices the shuddering breath you take, and the tired slump of your shoulders.

He wants to reach out, to console you. But he can’t, he can’t let himself do it because if he does he’ll never be able to leave you again.

You’re gone once they get back, their killer in custody and the young girl he had kidnapped returned safely to her family. He rubs his hand across his forehead before heading up to his office.

Months ago you would have flashed him a pretty smile and the doe eyes that have him bending at the knees in order to get him to leave the papers and go home with you.

“Aaron, come on, please.”

“I’ve got reports to do honey, just give me an hour. I’ll make it up to you.” You smile at him as you snake your arms around his waist, earning a warning glare from him. “Come on.” He shakes his head at you as he peels your arms off of him.

You sit with him for one hour, then two. After two you sigh, shuffling some of the papers out of the file and picking up a pen from the metal cup he keeps on the corner of his desk. He looks at you for a moment before going back to his papers, a fond smile remaining as he continues writing on the boring documents.

Another hour passes when you finally stand up. You stretch your arms dramatically, pairing it with an overexaggerated yawn. He knows what’s coming, and before he has the chance to look up you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your face into his hair. “I’m going to make some coffee.” You press a kiss to the temple of his head before jumping off of him in favor of the door. You turn around with a smile on your way out, one he reciprocates instantly. “Thank you.”

You return with two cups of coffee in your hands, you kick the door closed with your foot. “I got donuts too.” You grin goofily as you place the navy blue mug down in front of him. “Black coffee, horribly plain.”

“You drink sugar with a side of coffee.” He smirks as you take a bite of your donut. “And you’ve got the worst sweet tooth I’ve ever seen.” You stick your tongue out at that before lifting the donut up to his mouth. He shakes his head. “Right, I forgot you’ve got to be in shape for your triathlon.”

“You’re doing it too.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” You laugh before taking another bite of the chocolate donut. You look back down at the papers in front of you, careful not to get any chocolate onto the white sheets. You can feel his eyes on you, and you can feel your cheeks flush at his unmoving gaze. “What?” You laugh.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his eyes still on your face. “You’re beautiful.” You smile at that, pulling your lip between your teeth as you avoid his gaze. “You know how to charm a girl, Hotchner.”

“Only you.” He shakes his head as he lifts your chin with his thumb, rubbing it across your lip once you move your head towards him. It’s one of his favorite things, how easily you lean into his touch. You smile brightly at him as he leans in to capture your lips.

His mind snaps out of the memory as he opens the door, the once warm office filled with your presence now bare and dull.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Jealousy is a green-eyed monster. It’s not something you believed in the past.

In high school when Jessica Blake flirted with your boyfriend in front of your face you didn’t even flinch.

You didn’t want to believe that Aaron was dating again when Garcia mentioned it. But then Rossi started teasing him when he thought no one else heard, you heard it though.

“You’re staring daggers.” JJ whispers in your ear. “What?” You turn, your tone more clipped than you intended. You soften as you face her, mumbling a sorry. JJ puts an arm around your shoulders, “I know you have a thing for him, maybe she won’t last long.”

He just finished his triathlon, the one that you were supposed to run with him. You had trained with him for weeks. Weeks of your life you spent doing something you hated just because he wanted you to do it with him, wasted. “JJ, I don’t have a thing for him.”

It should’ve been you kissing him at the finish line, instead it’s Beth. You haven’t met her, and really you shouldn’t be jealous.

“Aaron, I can’t run any more. I think my side is going to explode.” You huff, bending over at the waste to try and catch your breath.

He laughed from his spot ahead of you on the track. “I’m not joking!”

“I’m not laughing at you.” He lies, the smile on his face giving him away instantly.

He grows more concerned for you as you don’t move from your spot, instead you plop down on the ground of the indoor track. “Honey, we can go get some water, come on.”

You laugh as you stare up at him from your spot on the ground, causing him to shake his head. “I think you need to carry me to the car.”

“Come on you dork.” He pulls you up by your arm, placing a hand on your waist to stabilize you. You lean into him as you two walk out towards the locker rooms. “I’ll meet you back out here.” He takes his arm off of you, causing you to stumble dramatically.

“Go change, we can get takeout and you can pick the movie.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You giggle as you turn your back to him, heading into the women’s locker room to change into warmer clothes.

Once you’re finished changing you meet up with him again, taking his warm hand into your cold ones once the freezing air hits your skin. “I forgot my mittens.”

“I’m not surprised.” He chuckles. “So you should know to bring them for me, you know I always forget.” You pout, and he can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your puffed out lips. “I’m horrible.”

The next time he forced you to go to the gym, he brought your mittens and a scarf to match them.

From your spot on the sidelines you can tell she’s a way to forget you.

He won’t forget you anytime soon though, you can see it in the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes even while he’s surrounded by people who care about him. You can tell by the way he still searches for you in the huddle your team has formed around him, and you can tell by the way his eyes lock onto yours from across the park.

You decide to walk up to the rest of the team then, making sure to not look away from him. Beth talks to him, and you can tell he’s giving her incoherent mumbles as responses as he finally breaks eye contact to turn towards her.

Derek wraps an arm around you. “Babygirl, out of you four, you may be the happiest one today.” He gestures to the very hungover women of the BAU, you had opted out of ladies night in favor of wallowing with a tub of ice cream. “And that’s saying something.”

You look at Aaron after Derek says the last part, making sure he knows that the jab from Derek was his fault. He looks away, unable to bear the guilt you’re trying to seep into him. “I need something greasy and fried.” JJ says, breaking the silence that took over the group.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Derek, who smiles as he ruffles your hair. “We’ve missed you coming out with us, you know.” He says as you all walk towards the parking lot. Jack comes up next to you, and you realize then how you haven’t seen him in months. You smile, unable to be annoyed at him over his father’s doings. “Hey Jack-O.”

He smiles at you, tugging your hand to get you to pick him up. “How are you buddy?”

Aaron watches as you hold Jack in your arm, and it physically pains him. He brushes it off as an ache from the swimming portion of the triathlon. That was your favorite part, your giggles as you splashed him with the pool water during training echo in his mind.

He turns back to Beth, reminding himself this is who he needs. Beth is simple, uncomplicated. She doesn’t work a job that puts her life at risk daily. She smiles at him, completely unsuspecting of his yearning for another woman.

But then he hears your laugh and he’s ready to drop everything for it. It’s the kind of laugh that even the greatest musicians couldn’t capture into a song. The way your lips curl and your head tilts back is a site that even the most talented of painters couldn’t put onto a canvas.

“Hey, good job out there. I’m going to have to train more to beat that.” Beth jokes to him, once again regaining his attention. Beth is good for him, she even enjoys running as much as him.

You set Jack down, and smile as he runs back towards Aaron. You hear him ask his dad to invite you over again, which you quickly tune out to avoid the awkwardness.

You miss her approaching you. “Hey, I’m Beth. Jack is over there singing your praises, I had to meet you myself.” She’s friendly, and you can see why Aaron likes her. You wish you didn’t hate her so much, she seems like she’d be a good friend.

“Hi.” You smile as much as you can, reaching your hand out for her to shake. “Aaron told me you're great too, at the job.” At the job. “I’m sure he did.” Your response is light, but if anyone knew about you and Aaron they’d know there are layers to it.

He watches as you interact, carefully watching your movements. At the restaurant when everyone is occupied in conversations he looks at you. You can tell what he’s asking without any words being spoken. You shake her head, rolling your eyes in annoyance. He wants to make sure you were civil with Beth.

The next morning you roll over in bed, your hair splayed across the pillow as you listen to the sound of the shower in the bathroom connected to your room. In your sleepy and hungover state, half of you expects Aaron to walk out.

Instead it’s a man with strikingly similar features. It’s not him, but he was a good hook-up to take your mind off of him. You know you're using this random guy as a surrogate, and you know the psychology behind it, but you don’t care.

“Hey baby.” The stranger leans down to capture you in a kiss, you duck to avoid his lips. They don’t feel like Aaron’s, you remember how chapped they were last night when he had kissed you.

“I’ve got to work.” You slip under his arm in favor of the kitchen. “I made you some coffee.” You groan, annoyed at the fact that this stranger had rummaged through your kitchen while you were still asleep. “I’m not the biggest fan of coffee.” It’s a lie, and if the man was smart he’d realize it due to the vast selection in your pantry, but alas he is not the brightest.

“What’s your name?” He asks, coming up behind you in the kitchen. “Look, please, let’s not do this. I have work in..” You check the time on the microwave clock. “30 minutes. Shit, you have to go.” You usher him towards the door, barely giving him a chance to grab his shoes. “Come on, you can be late once. Let’s go again.”

“Get out.” You roll your eyes. “Bitch.” He scoffs, but retreats down the hallway of your apartment complex. Once he’s out you set your security alarm before racing towards the bathroom.

Five minutes is a new record time for you to be ready, you quickly grab a muffin and mug of coffee before leaving.

“I’m here, I’m here.” You take a seat at the round table, conveniently the only one available is next to Aaron. “Dang mama, rough night?” Derek laughs from across from you, earning himself a glare. “Alright, let’s get started.” Aaron snaps, gaining the attention of everyone.

Once everyone disperses from the room, in order to prepare to leave, Aaron stops you, placing a hand on your upper arm. You freeze, not turning to make eye contact before shrugging him off. “Sir, I need to go get my bag.”

He says your name, causing you to turn towards him. You scoff when he doesn’t say anything. “Coward.”

“Excuse me?” He gives you the same stern look he gives to everyone, but there’s something else in his expression. “You’re a coward.” You repeat, pointing a finger to his chest. “I suggest you cover that..mark..on your neck, Agent.” He moves away from your hand.

“That’s what this is about?” You narrow your eyes at him, if looks could kill he’d be a puddle on the floor at your glare. “It’s unprofessional, and distasteful for you to present yourself like that at work.”

“Get off your high horse Aaron. There’s barely anything there.” You adjust the collar of your shirt to make sure it’s fully covered. “You’re upset with me, when you’re the one who went and committed to someone else. I mean, you’re the one who ended this in the first place. Go to hell.”

It was late when the team got back from Minnesota, and everyone was tired. Aaron couldn’t focus on that though, all he could see was the scar running across your cheek, and the bruise on your eye.

“My office.” He doesn’t touch your shoulder like he usually does when walking past your desk. His orders are cold, and leave no room for argument.

As soon as the door is closed he’s berating you. “I should suspend you. I should have you evaluated for being so reckless. You endangered the lives of everybody today, and that’s unacceptable. You got lucky out there today.”

He’s angry, you know it’s because you almost died, but he’s deflecting like always. You don’t respond, you know you did the right thing and it resulted in a young girl being saved. “This isn’t working.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“What?” You attempt to take his hand, he pulls back. “This. It’s over.”

“Aaron,” You pull his face into your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes as he breaks your heart. “You don’t mean that, you’re angry.” He shakes his head, pulling away from the touch he usually craves. “Emotions have nothing to do with this, it’s a fact. We aren’t going to work. I’ll expect your case report on my desk first thing in the morning.”

“You want to fight? I can fight, I can scream.” You sound pathetic, and you never thought you’d be begging a man not to leave you. But he’s different, he’s everything. “I don’t want to fight. I want you to go home and think about what you did wrong, Agent.”

“What I did wrong?” You scoff as you swing his office door open. You’re gone before he can realize what he just did, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of floral perfume in your wake.

The unsub is kidnapping victims who look increasingly similar to you. Aaron can’t fight the unease in his chest as he stares at what he was doing to these women. It’s hard for his mind to not drift to images of it being you instead of them. He makes sure to pair you up with Morgan everywhere you go, already knowing that him being with you won’t do either of you any good.

You were just stepping outside to catch your breath, it was dark out, but there were people around you, how much danger could you really be in?

You remember pulling your phone out, and you remember a searing pain in your shoulder, only registering that you’d been shot after seeing the silencer in the attacker’s hand. “Don’t scream, or he’s dead.” You don’t need to ask who, your mind immediately flashes with images of Aaron.

Your hands are bound in the back of his van, you fight a black out as you take in your surroundings. He’s disorganized, he shot you and left a witness outside of a station. From the brief look you got of his face you know he’s young. “What do you want from me?” You ask, as calmly as you can muster in your bleeding out. “I–I need a doctor.”

“You’re not getting a doctor!” He shouts, turning around while driving to point his gun at you. “Then I need you to hurry, before I bleed out back here.” You move to get more comfortable in the cramped spot he put you in. “I know you don’t want me to die.”

“I read about you, I’ve been to all of your lectures and conferences, and you never noticed me!” You squeeze your eyes shut, Aaron has noticed you’re gone by now, you know he has. “I knew I had to get your attention somehow.”

Back at the precinct Aaron is reeling. The woman who had witnessed it was shaking in one of the chairs. “I didn’t hear the gun—but when I looked up she was bleeding and this guy was yanking her by the hair.”

He puts his hands over his ears, trying anything to avoid the thoughts that you could be dead, that the likelihood of you being dead is high. Derek pats him on the shoulder, a reassurance that does nothing to ease his mind.

“What if this is about her?” Emily looks up from the file. “The women all look extremely similar to her, but he never kidnapped any of the previous ones.”

“But why shoot her?” Rossi asks, taking caution with his words as Aaron paces back and forth. “She—she just did a bunch of lectures at the ivies. Over our vacation last year.” Nobody questions how he knows that, but they nod. Derek pulls his phone out, dialing Penelope’s number. “Hello my furry friends. How can I be of service?”

Derek fills her in on what happened, gaining a large gasp from the woman on the phone. “Garcia, we need to cross reference all of the people who recently attended her lectures across New England. Ivy leagues–Harvard, Yale, Princeton.”

“Yes sir.” She responds, tight-lipped, to Hotch. “And Garcia?”

“Yes sir?”

“You need to be more professional.” Derek shoots Aaron a look at that. “Come on man, she didn’t know.”

Aaron doesn’t respond as he walks outside to investigate the scene where you were taken from. Your blood is pooled on the ground, bringing tears to his eyes. Dave comes up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Aaron quickly regains his composure, wiping the tears away from his face. “She’s strong Aaron. She’ll pull through.”

“He shot her Dave.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t–I can’t lose her.” Dave doesn’t say anything to that, he knows Aaron will blame himself for the rest of his life if he loses another woman he loves. “She’s everything, we–we were fighting last time we talked.”

“Then let’s go in there and find her.” He claps Aaron’s shoulder before turning back towards the precinct.

You gasp as he pushes the bandages to your arm. The bullet was through and through, thankfully. “I lost a lot of blood.” You say, trying to sound submissive. “Come on, take these off my hands and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, pushing the gun to his head. “Stop talking.”

You shake your head, fighting back the tears threatening to surface. You have to be strong, the team will find you. “What–” You shift. “What’s your name?” He twitches at you moving closer to him. “Come on, you know mine. I like to know the name of the man I’m with.” You want to throw up at the thought of flirting with him, but it’s the way to gain his trust.

“Paul.” You nod at that. “Ok, Paul. I remember seeing you at my lecture. I…” You twitch slightly as he turns the gun around on you. “I wanted to talk to you, but you were gone before it ended.”

“You wanted to talk to me?” You’re gaining his trust, you can tell by the way he lowers the gun ever so slightly towards the ground. “Untie me Paul, we can have some fun. I want you.” You fight the shudder taking over your features as he smiles at you.

He unbinds one of your hands, the other is still cuffed to the chair behind you. “This is all I can do for now.”

“Thank you.” You contemplate kicking him hard, but ultimately it’s a fight he would win due to one hand still being stuck behind you. You’ll wait, and get him to trust you enough to unbind the other one.

“I’ve got a name.” Penelope’s voice is professional, a stark contrast to her usual bubbly mood. Aaron doesn’t feel guilty for what he said to her, his attention too focused on not breaking down in order to find you. “Paul Danver. He attended every one of her lectures, and even began making obsessive comments about her in various articles.”

“So he’s a stalker. That doesn’t explain the torture to the victims. He doesn’t want to kill her, he wants her attention.”

Aaron thinks for a moment, racking his brain. He was at your lectures, he sat in the back to avoid attention. “The one at Yale, she was asked a question about how we pick our cases. She–she avoided answering at first but when he pressured her more she said we pick the most urgent ones. He went to these extremes for our attention, he knew it would bring her here.”

Paul runs his fingers over your skin. Your shirt was gone, he had ripped it off in order to care for the wound on her shoulder. “Paul, I think it’s time. Untie this hand and we can be together.”

You don’t expect him to actually do it, and you fight your sigh of relief when he does. You wait a beat after he’s done it, giving him a second to lean back. He smiles as he takes in your compliant state, before leaning forward again to kiss you. This is your chance, you bang your head into his face, sending him stumbling backwards. “You bitch!” He roars, racing forward with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You push the hand holding it towards the wall as he pulls the trigger, narrowly avoiding a shot to the head. “I’ll kill you.”

You struggle for a moment, before getting the gun out of his hand and pointing it at his retreating form. “I don’t think you will, Paul.” Aaron’s voice rings in your ears as the team fills the room. Derek puts himself in front of Aaron, knowing he’s too emotional to be confronting Paul.

“Get on the ground.” Derek growls. Paul complies after realizing there isn’t a way out of this.

“Let’s get a medic in here.” Aaron says into his mic before striding over to you. He breathes your name as he stands in front of you. He takes his vest off immediately, then his jacket to clothe your bare form. “I knew you’d come.”

“Always.” He sighs as he wraps it around you. A tear falls from your eye before you wrap your arms around him. He’s hesitant, not wanting to further injure your bandaged shoulder. “Please hug me back Aaron.” With your whispered plea he’s reciprocating instantly, breathing into your hair.

“I should have killed her!” Paul shouts as they drag him away. “Get him out of here.” Aaron says harshly as he pulls away from you. “Come on honey, we need to get you to the ambulance. Can you walk?”

The team doesn’t dare say anything to the term of endearment that Aaron used for you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“I heard he broke things off with Beth.” David says to you one day while you're staring into his office. “Huh.” You make a noise without looking up from your case report. “Come on, go talk to him.”

“Rossi, I’m working here.” You gesture to the paper, your pen has been unmoving for the past ten minutes, but he doesn’t need to know this. “You just got kidnapped, if now isn’t the time for a grand confession then I don’t know when is.” He retreats after that, heading back towards his office.

The next day Aaron approaches you, muttering an quiet ‘my office’ just loud enough for your ears to pick up.

You smooth your sweater out as you stand, suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone with him.

The soft click of the door has him looking up, he almost seems surprised that you actually listened to him. “Yes?”

“Sit.” He gestures to the seat, at one point in time you’d have pulled it around to sit next to him. Now you sit on the edge, like you’re ready to jump up and escape at any time. “Agent, I think it’s in the both of our best interests to put our personal ties behind us. For the efficiency of our job, we should remain strictly professional.”

You scoff at his audacity, leaning back ever so slightly in your chair. “You want me to fight you on it. You want me to be the one who pieces this back together.”

He doesn’t respond to that, instead focusing his attention to the paper on his desk. “That’s all, I need your latest report as soon as you finish.”

He looks up slightly when you don’t make a move to leave, gesturing slightly to the wooden door.

“How’s Beth?”

He puts his pen down at this, finally looking you fully in the eyes. “She’s good.”

“Huh, I could have sworn Rossi said that she was old news.” You twirl a thread from your sweater around your finger. “We are still friends.”

“Oh, you can stay friends with her and not me?” You ask, leaning in closer to him. After narrowing your eyes you lean back in the chair again with a scoff. “Oh wait, I know why, you love me. Being friends with me would just be torture for you.”

“Agent.” His tone is warning. “Hit a nerve? I know you Aaron, I know you better than anyone. Did you tell her that you’re in love with another woman, or was the breakup mutual?”

“Enough!” He slams his hand onto the desk in frustration. “I love you, is that what you want me to say? You’ve almost died, twice in the past few months. Do you understand what that would do to me?”

Your eyes soften at his tortured expression. It’s full of many things—yearning, love, sadness. You stand then, and he prepares for you to turn around and walk straight out the door. Instead you shake your head, walking around to his side of the desk.

You place your hands on his face, cupping his jaw with one while the other moves towards his hair. He sighs, wishing you had slapped him instead. It would hurt less.

“Aaron, I love you.” You move his face so he has to look at you. His eyes are glossy, and tears brim them. “Aaron.” You whisper.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t recover.”

“I’ll be careful.” You smile as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Please.” You whisper, and that’s what causes him to break, the desperation in the singular word.

His hands find solace on your waist as he stands, wrapping his arms around your frame. He inhales the scent of your shampoo as you hug him back. “I missed you, so much.” His voice breaks as he speaks, it’s a side of vulnerable you’ve never seen from him.

You pull back slightly, smiling the smile that always has him putty in your hands. You lean in, pressing a light kiss to his pursed lips. “Kiss me.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, his lips are slotting into yours instantly.

You bite his lip lightly as you pull back, earning a throaty laugh. “Not here, I’m going to take you to dinner.”

“Always a gentleman, Hotchner.”

The team all watch with open mouths and shocked expressions as you and Hotch walk out together, hand in hand.

“Well it was a matter of time before they got together.” Derek shakes his head as he turns his chair back towards his desk.

“I thought they never would.” JJ admits. “They’ve been pining for so long.”

Emily smirks from her chair, toying with the pen in her hand. “They’ve been together for over a year.” She looks up at them, watching as their jaws drop even more. “Lousy profilers you all are.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you

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vieoeil-riae · 1 month ago

Note

Could u do Steb having a crush/pre-relationship? Headcannons or fic whichever is easiest for you! Your writing is so good omg

hey babycakes 😘 this one's for you 🫵🫵🫵 *shoots and misses*

anyways, I didn't know if you wanted it SFW or NSFW so I just made it SFW in case but if you want me to write something spicy all u have to do is come back and ask so dw

I see you more, more, and more

steb/gn!reader

warnings: SFW, zaunite!reader for the fic section, selectively mute! steb (HOWEVER he does speak once ☝ and it is treated with appropriate gravity), unintentionally gn!reader so if something isn't gn then gimme a shout and I'll reword, mix of hc and fic, fic is 3.6k words

synopsis: Steb, the romantic

read on ao3 | ao3 profile

this guy is like. old school, kinda. like fairly traditional in the sense he's very much into doing things for you and being someone you can depend on, just without any pressure on you to give him what he wants because of it

additionally, while respectful and not touchy when getting to know you, he tends to hover closer to you the more he comes to like you, he's called the silent guardian for a reason

keenly observant, notices if and when you fluster because of him

HOWEVER he does have insecurities that quietly float around the back of his mind when he's not actively fighting them, and because of that, tends to deny to himself the fact he almost definitely caused that heat on your cheeks

the insecurities aren't major per say, but as you get closer you notice how he tends to avoid your eyes when you're tracing the feature of his face

if you subtly tell him you think he's beautiful, he'll have a bit of an internal freak out, but the most you'll see on his face is a small, wobbly smile

quietly leaves you love letters, not as secretive as a secret admirer, but enough that it keeps a bit of doubt in the back of your mind - he likes the slight mind game as well as the suspicious gaze you give him if you ever read one in front of him, it's cute

will leave you flowers when he's deeper into the crush

that also means he sometimes has a small bouquet of them on his desk at work, waiting to be given to you, and his coworkers have teased him for it before

he doesn't have many friends, something he's honestly okay with, but pre-war he had introduced you to maddie whilst "stumbling across you" while working

he pays for things for you, but respects you so he'll let you split the cost of something if you really want, he just wants to help you

you rolled your ankle once and being medically trained, he wanted to take a look. that involved taking off your shoe and holding your ankle in a way that felt more intimate than he thought it would, all you could see was him worrying his lip, but inside he was having... a moment

if you wanted him to quit his job, you could convince him with a LOT of talking but he has a very strong sense of duty so he'd probably become a paramedic or something similar if you were successful/ post!war he'd likely be more critical of his occupation, he was hopeful policing could be a good thing but he becomes disillusioned after fighting alongside zaunites and seeing how poorly sevika was received by the council

he does have the balls to admit when he's wrong, he just has a stubborn streak that you wouldn't notice immediately because of how quiet he is

speaking of quitting being a cop, he's actually quite open-minded and likes listening to you talk - he's gotten very good at it (he likes the sound of your voice, okay? and definitely not in a weird way! deffffinitely not. totally.)

he likes it when he makes a face at something and you laugh

teaches you sign language, touching your hands so much is just a bonus to the already immense reward of you finally being able to understand all the compliments he gives you

you two end up keeping small notepads on you to talk with as well, you don't particularly need them to talk but you often find yourself writing your responses

steb likes your handwriting, he sees you in everything once he's fallen for you, so seeing something made by your own hand feels like seeing a part of you

You met while he was on duty, minding your own business as you busted dishes at the tiny cafe you worked at in the boundary markets, closer to Zaun's side.

Golden hour sank over the city, glinting off of the bronze trimmings and smooth glass of the market's highest buildings — shadow pooling where the high arches and packed structural webbing hid the flagstone from the sun.

It was just another day in the small cafe you found work in, a popular place for anybody worth anything (though the number was low, only a decent handful of well-known zaunites ever crossed the threshold, maybe a shifty looking piltie now and then but it was rare) to take a shopping break.

The outside seating was understandably unpopular, too many eager hands and too much industrial smog for a drink to really be enjoyed. Still, some thick piltie had managed to have a sit-down without getting shaken down on the table you were clearing.

You muttered under your breath, cussing them out for having left the table in such a mess - seriously, how much coffee could one person spill! They hadn't even tried to leave it orderly like most other people did. That meant you were stuck putting a hell of an amount of elbow grease into scrubbing a ring of dried coffee from the wood.

You never looked up, not even when you slapped the rag you were using down, digging one fist into your hip as your other swept over your hair in an attempt to tame it despite the humid nature of Zaun's air.

That meant you never caught the first time Steb ever saw you, missing the way he seemed to freeze in his tracks at seeing you — ears perked, eyes curious.

He would never be able to tell you what made him stop verbally, but that wasn't a problem. In fact, in hindsight you almost appreciated it since it meant many a carefully crafted love letter being slipped towards you with flushed cheeks and fluttering frills.

Steb had written it out once, for an important occasion you don't remember as well as the letter. He spoke of you, how the light caught on your hair, your skin, the way you looked so... human. Frazzled, pissed off, and alone was his first impression of you — a strike of something beyond reason drew him closer.

You noticed him the second time, however, when he broke up a brawl just starting to form outside of the cafe. It didn't go well per say, the people not taking well to an enforcer trying to get in their business, resulting in a swift punch to the jaw before they dispersed — apparently too pissed about Steb's interference to argue straight away.

You peeked out of your shop door, staring at the way he gently rubbed his jaw, paying attention to the way he traced the two slits just above his jawbone. For an enforcer, he was damn pretty, but you still didn't want anything to do with him. You shut the door.

Another letter detailed the first time he saw your eyes properly, you had blushed horribly, hiding your hot cheeks in the paper once you'd finished reading how, in explicit detail, how beautiful they were. Steb had tugged the paper down with a pleased grin, haloed by the mid afternoon sun soaking through the botanical garden's trees, quite happy with your reaction. A bouquet of carnations sat by your thigh, organised and carefully wrapped by hand.

He’d started coming into the shop during his patrols at some point, ignoring the sharp looks he got from most of your usual customers. At first, he had a ginger girl in tow — Maddie, you later learned — who ordered for the both of them, but eventually, after almost a month of ordering the same drink he started to come alone.

You’d get him the same thing every time, getting more and more used to finding his face through the market’s crowds. Familiarity begets fondness, you supposed, as you started to appreciate the way Steb managed to look so angular but so soft at the same time while trying not to feel like too much of a class traitor. Nothing wrong with a bit of window shopping, right?

He never talked, but as a service worker that was something you’d come to appreciate; no awkward small talk or verbal abuse, just a sweet smile and a cursory chin raise to the item board and you already knew what he wanted. Though while making his order, black coffee, you’d find yourself making small talk; eyes shifting back and forth from your work and his face as you looked for his expressions and head tilts. You were a service worker, you were meant to be friendly, nothing wrong there.

His handwriting, neat and sometimes swoopy, layed out how much he enjoyed watching you watch him. The way you managed to carry the conversation without his verbal feedback, the way you cared enough to look for what he was saying with his face — and eventually his hands — where most other people would opt to brush him off. It made his heart beat out of time when you’d laugh at your own jokes; all the furious blushes fought down when your fingers slid over his to give him his drink.

Steb had noticed you outside of work too, running errands. It was his duty, he rationalised, to help people and that totally justified swooping in to help you with your shopping. It was the friendly neighbourhood cop situation of all time, why wouldn’t he? It didn’t mean anything, drinking in your face as it went from confused to surprised when you realised you’d managed to catch him somewhere other than the markets, listening contently as you described your mundane day — surely.

But that was a lie, one he could justify getting closer to you with, and as much as he didn’t like lying, it was worth it. You were brighter than him, naturally, based on the mere fact you talked and he didn’t; it was no surprise that your alien nature drew him in. You were warm too, you gave a damn about things other than yourself.

A Zaunite, you talked, you lived in a completely different world to him; there was no reason for him to like you so much, in fact, by all accounts you should hate each other. That didn’t stop him from flustering immensely when the small talk over the counter started to include small flirts thrown his way.

Compliments, off-handed and usually one word, ‘hey, handsome’ thrown his way when he walked in the door. It caught him off guard the first time. Force policies on public relations clashing with this tumbling wave of lovesickness and pride that spiked his veins leaving his mouth open as he stared at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks.

His frills fluttered out of time, you noticed, enjoying the show as Steb came back to his senses. You’d given him a teasing apology, melodramatic through a smile, telling him that you were sorry about increasing his risk of arrhythmia more than you already were with the coffee.

More bashfully than he would’ve liked, he’d slid an envelope across the counter towards you with the payment. You gave him a weird look when you turned to it, flicking your eyes up at him in question before tucking it in your pocket and giving him his drink.

You turned to clean, and Steb slipped extra cash in the tip jar; more than necessary, but he’d seen you looking a little thin recently.

It was only a minute or two later when you hastily slid into the seat across from him with the envelope in your hands, open this time. Steb watched your mouth open and close as you tried to ask him what the hell he was thinking, amused by the fact he’d finally managed to render you speechless too.

“You… want to take me out on a… date?” You had asked with a deeply confused tone. He liked the way your eyebrows furrowed, a tinge of embarrassment laced in the mix. The way you seemed disbelieving would’ve been cuter if he wasn’t getting antsy himself.

He was in the minority in terms of appearance; fishy, a little amphibian, a lot greener than his peers. The city of progress was a real mix of people, but that didn’t stop a cloying feeling of insecurity following him from childhood to right now. He was odd, he knew that, but he chewed the inside of his cheek as he hoped you wouldn’t outright turn him down.

Steb looked the smallest you’d ever seen him, shoulders hunched and expression troubled in a far cry from his usual neutral expression. Have you said something wrong?

“It’s not a no!” You shot, straightening up from your casual, slumped position to lean towards him, elbows on the table. You rolled the words around in your head and he watched as your expression shifted. “It’s just… Why me?”

A zaunite, no one special, just a barista, what would a piltie want with you of all people?

Steb made the sign for a pen; you tossed him one quickly alongside your notepad. You watched as he scribbled out a page, and then another, and then another. At this point you were more shocked that he had so much to say.

The pad was promptly slid back to you, and Steb avoided looking at your eyes, forcing you to look at the writing.

It was one hell of an explanation, you could’ve mistaken him for a poet despite the rushed look of the whole thing. Heat prickled at your skin as you kept reading all the internal reasoning you hadn’t been privy to until now. He described almost everything about you in such a rosy way it left your jaw dropped, stumped on just how observant (and into you) one guy could be.

Still looking at the notepad, you began to nod, “yeah… yeah! Yeah! I’ll- yeah.”

You giggled, a hand running over your hair as you looked up at Steb again — who’d been quietly observing your expressions from the moment you started reading. There was a whole world to be found in your face, in his opinion, it felt like watching hundreds of great masterpieces of art work move in front of him in real time when he looked at you.

Senselessly, in a way he could never phrase right, you were beautiful the same way space was. A vast space full of bright lights that dazzled in a way that was nearly spiritual. Maybe it was a bit much for the crush he had on a barista from the boundary markets that he’d only known for a couple of months, but he was a romantic at heart.

“I’d like that.” You smiled, unable to look him in the eye until you noticed the way he perked up. That was one of the joys of knowing Steb, learning to read him and finally seeing what he wanted to say. Miniscule gestures suddenly carried the weight of the world.

His frills fluttered with a sense of pride and he stood from his seat. You watched him, almost perplexed but ultimately enamoured by the new lens you were seeing him in, as he hesitantly reached for your hand. You gave it to him, curiosity brimming.

Tenderly, gently, barely even a brush, Steb kissed your knuckles. Stooped over just for you, treating you like you were precious; it just about set your face on fire. He tipped his hat to you just before you left, a smuggish look that barely differed from his usual expression passed across his face. Raised eyebrows and a fond, teasing smile made you flush even worse. All that, and he quietly exited the shop, leaving you a mess in his wake.

You weren’t told until a long time after, but the second he was out of sight from the cafe, Steb was fighting a speed-walk all the way to Maddie’s station to tell her about you. The story was shared quietly, written out in a notepad while you were curled up in each other on the sofa. The mood was somber, but his heart was still out for you to see, that meant more than the way his ears were pinned to his skull and the way you could feel him sink just a little deeper into you.

Next Friday had rolled around and you were dressed up more than you ever had been, standing on your doorstep, peering down the street in search of the hot cop you absolutely had a crush on. God, some zaunite you were.

It was clumsy, you spent the night at a fancy (by your standards) restaurant flirting the best you could — feeling out of place unless you were looking at Steb. But by the time you left, you’d started to relax.

You strolled by a fountain at some point. You didn’t remember, but Steb did. A letter hidden under your pillow after a fight that told you about what it was like to see you start to bare your soul to him. He said he could’ve mistaken you for glowing, street lights painting you in gentle, warm hues as your eyes sparkled at him, telling him something about water pipes at home. The words didn’t matter so much as the joy in your voice.

It had made him feel like he was living life how he was meant to. Just you, Steb, and a night that felt nearly infinite and it made him wonder if love always felt so freeing. Billions before you had shared moments similar, and all of a sudden it felt like he knew every inch of adoration ever felt towards anything. He didn’t tell you then, it would’ve been too much, but he told you in the letter.

You sought him out the next day, not entirely forgiving him yet, but assuring you’d still be there when he got home.

Outings with Steb became more frequent, but importantly he had invited you over to his home more than once. You’d been so curious but so timid, not wanting to intrude too much, endearing in the contrast to your Zaun-built, confident demeanor.

The only problem was that seeing you eventually get comfortable in his home, around the places he went, was doing something to his heart; much worse than before, it squeezed at the thought of you in his life properly. Imagined mornings of waking up to see you in bed next to him almost did your arrhythmia comment justice.

More strikingly though, was the accompanying acknowledgement that in those fantasies, you tended to be… bereft of clothing. Padding around his room with every inch of your skin there for him to see, not provocatively, just comfortably. It made him needier than he’d ever want to admit (then, at least) and he didn’t invite you over again until you grew comfortable enough to be touchy with him.

Light brushes; hand holding; hugs that lasted too long to be just friendly, to him they meant he was allowed to imagine more with you. He invited you over for dinner the day after you slid your hands under the back of his uniform’s half-jacket while you hugged him.

There were flowers, dances, cute dates he absolutely insisted he paid for — everything gentlemanly he could do, he did. Treating you right was a reward in itself to Steb, loving you wasn’t housekeeping, it was a way of existing; a comfort; a lot of things he didn’t know how to say despite the fact you teased him for having the soul of a poet. It felt right and you smiled genuinely, that’s all that mattered.

The breaking point was a little date he took you on, having swept into the cafe and slipped a note asking (almost pleading) for you to take a trip inland to a large lake with sandy beaches. When you inevitably said yes, he grinned in a way you’d have never guessed was possible about a year ago.

His face was typically stoic, only small shifts and twitches you had to know him to pick up on really gave him away. Over months you’d not only learned them, but had been let in on his feelings too — a facet of himself gifted almost exclusively to you.

It was his own doom he was walking into, he knew that and felt rather guilty about it, but the image of you dripping wet — standing half-submerged in a still lake, maybe in the golden hour he first noticed you in, was enough temptation for him to bend to his own wants.

The actual journey was revealing enough, you hiked and stumbled, laughing the whole way; comfortable with him. It made him realise what he felt towards you wasn’t just a fragile thing to be stoked tenderly like a fire he was worried about going out. Watching you gasp for breath in between laughs as you beat him to a trail marker but fell over once you reached it, he realised what he felt for you was fully formed.

He did get his moment, watching the lake water pool over your skin, ultimately lost in you and the feeling he’d swim with you forever if you just asked. Your background didn’t matter, he was concerned only with the endless possibilities of a future with you, if you wanted that too.

Steb joined you, a feeling of relief flooding him like the water did, sending you a small, but intimate, smile before sinking beneath the surface.

The water wet his gills properly for the first time in a while, something that always felt satisfying, and he aimed for you. Your feet still touched the ground, semi-hesitant about going much deeper. He surfaced behind you, mindfully pulling you into a hug. You leaned back, enjoying the closeness for a moment before you turned around.

“Thank you for bringing me. It’s beautiful out here.” You spoke softly, tracing the paths of water droplets that slid down his skin in reverse. Your fingers skimmed the very edges of Steb’s gill slits and he shuddered all the way to the frills on his face.

Carefully, not looking away from your face for a second, he traced your lips with a delicate finger. You stayed quiet, questioning, but transfixed on the way he looked at you so reverently; there was a look in his eyes, warm in ways you’d never seen turned to you in full before.

His eyes darted down to your lips, then back to your eyes, a request swirling in his irises. He wanted you, and it was only a matter of if you wanted him back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a hurt little feeling cooed worries at him. Unable to quash them, he settled into the uneasy feeling — letting the moment continue.

You leaned towards Steb, your nose skimming over his. The feeling quieted, like a held breath.

You met his lips with the same human-ness and soft edge he’d seen in you from the beginning, fireworks weren’t what he felt; he felt like melting wax, fluid and free with relief — wanting to sink into the shape you wanted him to be while also feeling more in control in some way he’d never felt so much before.

You gasped at his wet hand, cold from the air meeting the remaining water on it, that cradled your waist. The gentle tip of his tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking for permission you gave him almost instantly with a tilt of your head.

It was an electrifying taste, a fraction of the warmth you held that felt like it carried the weight of the world in the way you let him — even wanted him — to explore your mouth. Your hands slipped over his shoulders, trailing over his skin as if trying to memorise them in excruciating detail.

Your hand found his jaw again, swiping gently over the bone before running along his gill slits again. He made a choked sound you swallowed before pulling away, resting your forehead against his. He nuzzled his face into the side of your head soon after, you heard him breathe, catching the soft sound of every inhale. Steb inhaled sharply.

“May I be yours?” He whispered in your ear, his voice raspy with disuse. It was by no means a small act, talking was made difficult by his biology already; a lifelong fight that had at some point turned into an emotional discomfort with talking as well. For his job, his sense of duty could shove the deep-rooted pang of fear down enough, but in any other case his voice disappeared like steam in the wind.

But it was important here, with you, who had taken up residence in his heart — never once making or even asking him to talk, accepting him as he was. The fizzing of his nerves in this moment was down to anticipation, not fear; and with all his need for you, he could bare a whisper.

“Please.” You whispered back before the gravity of it all left you scrambling, “And let me be yours, too.”

Steb captured your lips in a wordless kiss, more passionate than gentle, his fingers digging into your waist like was afraid you’d disappear if he let go even for a moment. The initial shot of relief gave way to a feeling of satisfaction that purred in his chest, the press of your warm body against his made him feel full.

His hand twisted in your hair, dragging you into his lap as he sank into the water’s buoyancy.

A/N: SURPRISEEEEEE ITS NOT SMUT FOR ONCE!! did I getcha????? I'll be honest writing something that wasn't porn for him was harder than expected bc I've got NO practice for him

also perhaps I have outed myself as a league lore knower but that's fine I've been into worse I used to like hetalia

anyways hope u like this anon 💕💕

#steb arcane #arcane #steb x reader #arcane x reader #steb arcane x reader #steb #gn!reader

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whateveriwant · 2 years ago

Text

Not With a Bang but a Whimper

Summary: Simon has a tendency to be quiet in bed. But maybe, just maybe, you can get him to break his silent streak for once.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: language, SMUT 18+ (vaginal sex)

A/N: Hello! So we all agree that Ghost's voice is hot, right? And so the thought of him moaning; the filth he'd grunt in your ear… Ugh, I just had to write a little something that would scratch that itch Ghost inflicts on my brain. As always, I hope you enjoy! :)

There's something about the darkness, the vast visual emptiness, that heightens all of one's other senses.

The tang of sweat. The scratch of sheets. The rhythmic, wet thwapthwapthwap of skin against skin.

They all come together to create a harmonious symphony of the flesh that overrides the benefit of sight, though you're sure that wouldn't detract.

And it's perfect, really. All of it. You wouldn't change a single, microscopic detail. Except, well… Perhaps…

Simon's breath fans warm across your face, a shaky exhale that hardly sounds as it passes through his lips. There's an intake, a pointed swallow, the thick gulp of exchanged air, but then not half a second later he's right back to it – a grave-like silence worthy of his namesake.

In all the time you've been together, you've never known Simon to be a very talkative man. Sure, once he's comfortable around someone, he tends to open himself up more. But for the most part, he's never been one to speak beyond that which is necessary – a fact you'd long known and come to accept. And yet, despite this truth, somehow, you would've never predicted the Ghost's deathly silence extended to the bedroom as well.

Aside from harried breaths and the occasional throaty grunt, Simon might as well be a mute for how much sound he emits whilst between the sheets. And beyond those baser noises, what few words he has said have always been blunt; directional. 'Roll over. Hands here. Arse up.' and the like.

Of course, the case could be made that you make enough noise for the both of you combined – a circumstance you know Simon doesn't mind one bit. But still, hearing Simon's own unsuppressed enthusiasm is a fantasy you've not yet made reality, a dream you haven't seen come true.

But who says you won't ever?

A deep thrust has your back bowing off the bed, your mouth falling open in an airy moan. Another drive forward and you're clenching eagerly around him, restless hands kneading the wide, muscled expanse of his shoulders.

In and out, deliberate and methodical, he drags his thick cock along your walls. Gradually, mind-numbingly, the even tempo of his hips stokes a heat within your belly, and you try arching up to meet him, building the flames higher and higher.

As you rock, a low, droning moan tumbles past your parted lips, underlining the measured creaks of the bedsprings, the noisy rattle of the headboard. Simon hits a spot within you that leaves you gasping, panting, and your desperate hands seek purchase higher, sliding up the sweat-slicked line of his neck.

Reaching the soft, damp hairs of his exposed nape, your fingers find home, threading carelessly through the tousled strands at the back of Simon's head. Another drive of his hips has you inadvertently tugging downwards, and suddenly, as he's pulled towards you, you hear the sweetest noise flowing past your ears.

A groan.

Just a small one, hardly above a whisper, but it's rich and it's coarse and it's oh-so-deliciously-deep.

But before it can swell to something more, Simon's burying his face in the top of your chest, smothering the sound to extinction.

No! Not again. Not if you can help it.

"Simon," you whine, lifting his head back up to yours. Though you can't quite make out his eyes in the darkness, you know he can still see you; still read you plain as day. "Please. W-Wanna hear you. Let— Let me hear you."

Maybe it's pointless – maybe it's pathetic – but you'll never know if you don't at least try.

Unfortunately, he remains woefully quiet despite your pleas – a few desperate cries not enough to dismantle years of practiced silence. Either that or he just wants to hear you beg some more, which you wouldn't necessarily put past him, but you hope he's not so cruel when you're this wanting.

Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you bring him even closer, lips brushing aching lips. You just want him to let go, to break free from whatever's holding him back, to shrug off those internal bonds keeping his voice hostage.

"Let it out, Si. Please." Please please please please please.

Unthinkingly, you squeeze your grip tighter, pressing your nails down just enough to pinch. Honest to God, it was unintentional on your part, but then suddenly, miraculously, euphorically, it's like the floodgates open all at once.

An unfiltered moan rolls through Simon's throat – low and timorous at first, just edging past reluctant, before it rises in intensity, volume steadily increasing, ultimately peaking in a stuttered curse.

"Oh, fffuck," Simon husks to himself, thighs clapping firmly against the cradle of your legs. "Fuck, pet, y— you're—" his words dissolve as you clamp down around him, the keening sound of your voice mingling with his own.

The moment Simon let down his restraints, your reaction was near-instantaneous – skin prickling, toes curling, hairs standing at full attention. This, THIS, is what you've been waiting for – for Simon to reveal what's been hidden beneath that hardened shell of his. And it's so much better than you ever possibly imagined.

Simon grabs at you hungrily, like now that he's let loose, he can't get enough of you. "Feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' wet." He snaps his hips a little bit faster, emphasizing the obscene squelch of your cunt.

Already you can tell you're addicted to this new side of him; it's honestly embarrassing how a minor change can make you unravel so quickly. Well, at least, you would be embarrassed if you could find the strength to care. Or really, find the strength to feel anything other than surging, dripping ecstasy.

A calloused, firm thumb makes its way to your clit, and a sharp cry bursts forth from your chest, your head craning way back. Simon nips at your jaw as he circles his thumb expertly, swirling your slick around and around until you're trembling beneath him.

"That feel good, yeah? That what you like?" he questions, perhaps with double meaning.

As you try to speak, you find you've lost your voice in the process of Simon recovering his own. Thus, all you can do is nod emphatically, hitching your legs up higher on his hips to urge him on.

You feel him chuckle against your throat at your nonverbal response. Clearly, he's enjoying himself as much as you are, the cheeky Brit.

Your tongue is utterly paralyzed as you let Simon unleash on you, only able to let out small squeaks and strangled whines as you take the full force of his vigor. Your hips pang, thighs ache, and stomach clenches as he slams into you over and over again. The smack of his balls against your ass carries shamelessly throughout the room – the sound loud and obnoxiously wet as he sticks to the juices running down your rear.

"This messy little cunt's fuckin' gushin' all over me. Think you're ruinin' the sheets, pet," he teases darkly.

Another several flicks of your clit has your core tightening tellingly, walls pulsing as you feel yourself inching closer to that blissful release. Simon must also sense your impending finish because he tries adjusting his approach, and you almost sob as he suddenly pulls his hand away, frustrated at the loss of contact. But then he's pressing flat against you, grinding his pelvis along your throbbing, swollen clit, and your cry of anguish quickly morphs to one of unbridled ecstasy.

Snaking both hands beneath your shoulders, Simon grips the base of your skull, pushing your sweaty foreheads together as he goes to speak against your mouth. "Christ, you're gonna make me cum," his breathing is choppy; stunted. "S'gonna be a big one, I can feel it." The bed jolts as he picks up his pace.

Strings of whispered expletives weave with broken moans and animalistic grunts, creating a salacious melody that overlays the sound of him taking you apart piece by sopping piece.

You're seconds away from shattering, heat flooding every nerve and vein. The only thing stopping you from falling over the edge already is your want to milk this for every second that you can. But ultimately, you can't hold on forever, and neither can he.

"M'close," Simon huffs, movements turning sloppy. "Can I… inside?" he asks without presumption.

Your tongue still feels like lead as it droops lopsided in your mouth. But you'll try to find your voice again for him, just so there's no confusion.

"Y-Yes," you whisper, more ragged than anticipated. You try swallowing but it's punctured by a whimper, your legs beginning to shake as you feel the endorphins flowing through you. The rising crescendo has you quivering, thighs squeezing him tight, and soon, you can't stop the words from pouring out, bleeding together until you're an incoherent mess. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes—!"

All at once, everything comes crashing over you, leaving your body spasming, brain buzzing, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You claw ferociously at Simon's back as you reach your climax, and you bring him over the crest with you, feeling his harsh, stuttered thrusts as he empties deep inside.

You're almost certain you hear a growl as he spills into you, but you can't be totally sure over the ringing in your ears, hardly able to recognize your own euphoric wails.

You ride out the cascading wave of your orgasm until you're boneless, breathless. Even as you start to wind down, it's like you're detached from your body – skin tingling, limbs numbing, chest heaving uncontrollably. You're still shaking as the fog over your senses slowly lifts, and it's only as you register Simon still moving within you that you come back to yourself fully.

He gives a last few lazy thrusts, pushing his cum even deeper, before he's spent and slumping down, leaning on you heavily. His weight is smothering as he rests on top of you, like an anvil's been dropped on your chest. For a moment, you think he's going to snuff out the remaining air in your lungs, but then he raises up on his elbows, letting you both take a much-needed breath.

With a choked gasp, Simon slips out of you, a similar noise escaping you as you feel his cum drip from your pussy. He flops face down on the bed, the harsh sounds of his breathing muffled by the pillows. It's another few beats until you feel somewhat collected yourself, and even then your mind is still reeling, replaying what just happened.

Holy shit. That. Was. Incredible. You didn't expect Simon letting loose to be like that, and already, you're eager to experience it again.

"You… should do that… more often," you say deliriously, earning a rumbling chuckle from the man beside you. With a little difficulty, you roll over to face him, your sensitive folds brushing together as you turn. You're just able to make out his silhouette in the dim, and you see how he shakes his head to himself, then peeks up at you from the pillow.

"You're a greedy little minx, aren't you?" he mocks.

"For you?" You reach over, brushing your fingers through his hair. "Always." He exhales what sounds like an amused breath at your comment, your hand coming back down to rest by your side. "So… 10 minutes? I should be good to go again." That earns a heartier laugh from Simon, though you're not making a joke, the heat still roiling in the pit of your stomach.

He shakes his head again before shifting on his side to mirror you. "At least let me grab a shower and a bite first. I'm not a bloody robot."

Oh, you're well aware of that. Machines don't feel nearly that good.

But before you get a chance to retort, a swift peck to your lips cuts off anything you intend to say. You lean into the kiss, pressing your palms to his slick chest, but aren't able to get carried away before you feel him pull back.

You sigh begrudgingly. Alright, fine. You guess you can afford him a short break to recover, but no longer than half an hour before you're dragging him back for round 2.

Simon must notice your reluctant acceptance because he chuckles once more, lightly tapping his hand on your hip. "Tell you what. I'll let you join me in the bath if you can keep your hands to yourself."

You nearly scoff at the offer, brows scrunching in annoyance. He knows that's an impossible feat for you. It'd be like dangling a prized carrot right in front of your nose and expecting you to do nothing but lick your lips and stare.

Simon again snorts amusedly as he rolls to exit the bed. "Figured as much. You'll just have to wait then, pet."

You're about to argue with him when he suddenly hauls himself to his feet. He groans as his back cracks loudly in protest, another grunt as his knees pop one after the other. More gruff noises escape him as he walks stiffly towards the bathroom, joints creaking and crackling with every other step he takes.

The noises erupting from his mouth almost sound exaggerated on purpose, like he's trying to exactly mimic the ones from earlier – the ones that had you melting mere minutes ago.

"Okay, now you're just torturing me!" you accuse half-heartedly, pressing your sticky thighs together to quell the hollow feeling inside. He's riling you up on purpose because he knows you just have to sit there and take it!

"The only torture here is my bloody joints," Simon calls over his shoulder, planting one heavy foot in front of the next. "'S half your fault my knees 've been shot to shit anyway," he grunts. Half the blame to the military, half to missionary, you suppose.

His lack of acknowledgement to your plight has you huffing loudly, blowing out a harrumph through pouty lips. In response, Simon clicks his tongue in soft admonishment, unswayed by your whiny tones.

"Quiet," he chides, not bothering to look back at you. "Couple more years and I'll be lucky if I don't yell every fuckin' step," he says, though you figure he's just being hyperbolic. As he's just about to duck through the door, leaving you to your own devices, you hear him grumble, more to himself than to you, "Then I'd really give you somethin' to cry about."

Forced to wallow alone in your own self-pity, you roll onto your back with a sigh. Maybe Simon's right. Maybe you should just be content with what you have. You've already gotten so much more from him tonight than you ever have before. Maybe you shouldn't push too hard.

As you hear the faucet crank on, water pelting tile, you can't help how Simon's last words almost echo through your mind. 'I'd really give you somethin' to cry about,' he'd warned, dark and low. Though he meant it as a threat, and though you know it's your sex-clouded brain getting carried away, those words coming from that voice have you damn near trembling, but not out of fear. And as you lie in bed naked, staring up at the darkened ceiling above, all you can do is grasp at your messy sheets and think to yourself…

You kind of like the sound of that.

__________

A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #female reader

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thesilmarillionblog · 4 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

Click here for Series Masterlist.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI) smut, virgin reader!, unrequited love, heavy angst, reader gets hurt, kinda friends with benefits, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, language

Word Count: 7216

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'WASTE' by Kxllswxtch

Dean's eyes narrowed as he treated your wounded hand; you smiled a little to yourself as he talked about how you sometimes behaved recklessly. If only he knew how much you cherished the moments when he protected you during a hunt.

You had been with him and Sam for a year now, and it was difficult to resist falling in love with him. You weren't sure when you fell in love with him, but you sensed it from the moment he smiled at you, or maybe in a random moment. Every time you glanced into his green eyes, you felt a sense of admiration. You had absolutely no complaints.

He complained as he was working to treat your wound, “You must know, I will consider kicking you out of the team if you keep acting like that.”

It began to rain in your house's weak light. Your heart was filled with fright as he took care of your wound in your house, where you were alone, and it seemed so calm; you were afraid of losing that precious, fragile time with Dean, not of ghosts. You weren't afraid of ghosts.

You asked naively, as if you had no idea what he was talking about, “Like what?” When he grabbed your hand too tightly unintentionally, and that sudden moment hurt you a bit, you attempted to draw it in toward yourself with a pained gasp.

With a look of regret on his face, you looked at him with understanding.

“When I tell you to get behind me, you must do what I say, or when I tell you to stop, you must stop.”

“Remember the previous case in point,” you sighed. “If I did what you told me, we'd both be dead.” You looked up to see how he was feeling.

“It was only a single exception,” Dean immediately defended himself, rolling his eyes at you.

“However, if I had listened to you, I would have been killed. You too,” you mutely remarked. You weren't attempting to put the blame on him. You were aware that he was guarding Sam and you constantly. You dropped your eyes to your eyes as he looked at you, feeling instantly overwhelmed and overpowered by his piercing stare. “I promise that when I go hunting, I'm not being careless. I truly listen to you, but you must have some degree of faith in me. Since I joined you and Sam months ago, I'm convinced he has more faith in me.”

You wanted Dean to think highly of you, someone whom he could always trust, just as you trusted him with your life. You wanted him to trust you, your strength, and your feelings. Even if you were quite successful, you felt that he still seemed to be unsure about you.

This time, instead of cracking one of his jokes to lighten the mood, he seemed to be deep in focus. When he appeared so confused and like he was in pain on the inside, you wondered what exactly he was thinking. Though you didn't think you could stop him from ruminating at that moment, you still wanted to help him if he was in pain, calm him down if he was feeling anxious, and comfort him if he was feeling uneasy.

The sense of worthlessness was an emotion you wanted to stay away from.

When he noticed that you weren't as happy as you had been minutes before, he stated in a dry voice, “I don't want you to get killed or hurt because of me. I do trust you, but you have to stop acting reckless and try to save me by endangering yourself.”

“I wasn't putting myself at risk. You're exaggerating,” you said as you continued to examine his hands while he continued to take care of your wounded hand.

“You're very stubborn, aren't you?” In an attempt to soften the thick air, Dean smiled back weakly.

You chuckled and tried to catch his gaze by raising your head as you drew nearer and moved on to where you were sitting. “But Sam thinks I'm the easiest one to get along with and easiest to persuade,” you said.

Dean winked at you suspiciously and said, “Hey, I guess you were right about something.”

“About what?”

“He's dumb when it comes to reading people, huh?”

You muttered, “Asshole,” and gave him a little leg kick. It made him laugh, which made you joyful.

Dean let go of your hand, gave you a long, odd smile, and checked his watch after making sure you were okay and being well taken care of. You could feel the joy leave your body when you realized he wasn't going to stay or anything. You had no idea how to get him to stay with you, at least for a day, at your home. Still, he was always on the move. It's fortunate that he didn't hear how quickly your heart was beating, how much you wanted his touch, and everything else.

You said in a hushed tone, as if you didn't give a damn whether he said ‘yes,’ but you cared like crazy. “You can spend the night in here if you wish.”

“I think I have other plans for tonight,” he remarked, flashing you his adorable grin and a wink. “We move so much throughout the day. The town must have missed me.”

You chuckled slightly and said, "By whom exactly, Mr. Loverman?” You noticed that the rain was falling more quickly through the glass.

Dean gave you a haughty look and stated, “By ladies, of course,” which made you jealous, but you didn't want to show it to him and ruin your friendship.

Playing with the fabric of your sweatpants, you said, “Boys. They come and go.” You attempted to ignore the vivid images of Dean with other women that were playing out in your head. It was unavoidable, but you didn't want to get jealous and mess up everything. “New ones appear all the time. Don't be worried about the women who missed you.”

He smiled and replied, “You're a smartass, aren't you?” You felt encouraged to continue since he didn't appear to be offended or anything.

“And you're overconfident in yourself. Have you yet to be rejected by someone? Not even once?” You said it inquisitively.

“Just once,” Dean remarked humorously. It eluded you whether he was being serious or joking. At times, it was difficult to understand him.

You tried to chuckle as you remarked, “Must be fun.” You sounded like you were going to choke though.

Dean spoke for a little while before attempting to get up and leave your home, but the electricity unexpectedly cut off, leaving you gasping in surprise. You backed away from him with a shy grin, not because you were afraid, just because you realized you had touched his knee.

You said, “Ah, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop soon,” and to your relief, he sat back on the seat. As it was pouring heavily, you expressed your gratitude to God and Michael for their generosity and compassion, which you felt had come once in a lifetime.

At least once, you prayed that night's rain would never cease so Dean wouldn't go.

"Yeah," he said in a dry voice. It was your hope that he wouldn't feel stuck with you and let down. Dean was aware that although you weren't terrified of ghosts, you were fearful of being alone yourself in the dark. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

You timidly replied, “I guess I don't have any.”

“All right.”

“Are you still planning to leave or spend the night?” You tried not to seem enthusiastic as you asked, but with anticipation. You hoped that his ability to read your face in the dark would be poor.

“I suppose it's best if I stay with you. You're a lovely young girl who, in the end, is more terrified of the dark than ghosts. As a gentleman,” he murmured, moving to a more comfortable position on the coach. “It's my responsibility to protect and repay you tonight, don't I?”

You laughed as though he had made a joke, but in reality, you were only finding it difficult to hide your happiness at his answer that he would stay. The angels seemed to fill your heart with such incredible bliss. If it would force him to spend his time with you in that manner, you may put yourself at ongoing risk. You wished he understood how much you valued each and every word he said.

“How about you, though?” Dean asked out of the blue. Although his face was concealing himself in the darkness, you could tell by the tone of his words that he was perplexed.

You asked, perplexed, not understanding what he was talking about, “What about me?”

“I haven't seen you with...someone in a long time since you joined us,” he said. You may argue that he spoke slowly in order to carefully select his words so as not to offend you or cause you distress. “Actually, I've never seen you with someone nor heard you talking about anyone.”

You attempted to give him a confident smile, but all you managed to do was give him off an odd look. “Uhm,” you stammered out while attempting to think of anything to say without looking foolish. “Those hunts are challenging and exhausting.” You attempted to explain to him, “I'm not interested in seeing someone right now, and I can't find time for myself.” You were hoping he wouldn't dig too much.

You weren’t the best when it came to lying.

As if he wasn't okay with your explanation, he grumbled, “We've been staying here for a month, and we are not even that busy.”

You wouldn't tell Dean that you were an inexperienced one in your mid-20s, as you knew he was very skilled with women. You just could not possibly make yourself look so foolish in front of him. You were unsure what he would think about you. Definitely, it was best to remain silent.

You said, “I'm just not interested and feel like I have no time for anyone,” trying not to sound like lying. Although it wasn't a total lie, how in the world could you admit that you were truly interested in someone, him, and that's the reason you weren't interested in anybody else?

You wanted he could read the words on your lips and your voice so you wouldn't have been trying so hard to explain things to him while hiding yourself away from him for so long.

Love was something that both wanted to be hidden and to be revealed. It was complicated and bizarre.

Dean finally responded, “You're right, actually,” after giving you a long stare. “You should avoid things that might distract the focus of your attention. Men might easily split your soft and lovely heart in half.”

You asked, irritated, “Why do you say that?” You always believed that since you avoided people so well, nobody would ever consider hurting you or anything like that.

As he moved a little closer to you, Dean smirked and remarked, “Like you say,” which made you tense. You couldn't see him well, but his smile was joyful. Before continuing, he arched an eyebrow and nibbled his bottom lip. “I'm ladies' man. I read women really well, and you're easy to see through.”

You said to him, “You really are a ladies' man. But I'd say you are illiterate.”

Dean gave you a small chuckle and made the decision not to push you too far or make you feel more shy. And anyhow, he wouldn't allow you to talk about males, not right now. You did not require guidance since you did well on your own. “Hey, I see that you’re a little sharp today. After taking care of your wounded hand, I made the decision to spend the night with you and look how you treat me. You're being ungrateful.”

He made a false furious look at you, and you couldn't stop laughing. “You do realize, though, that I have once again saved your ass. I'm beginning to feel like you must repay me for acting as your guard. Like an angel.” You gave him a little smile and added, “That means something, right?”

Dean said, “It does,” with the same lighthearted tone as you, his eyes examining your face up close in the dark as your smile slowly faded from the corners of your lips.

You gasped in surprise and fright when an unexpected lightning strike struck with such force it seemed like the sky had been split in half. Dean laughed, seeing as how you really jumped on the coach.

“I can't believe you're not afraid of ghosts, witches and all, but just some raindrops,” he stated in astonishment. Your pulse beat like crazy when you felt his breath close to you, but Dean probably assumed it was because you were frightened.

Both of your arms and legs touched, but you tried not to react. “I'm not afraid of rainy weather or something,” you replied. “It's normal to be jumpy when an unexpected noise like lightning appears.”

In an attempt to annoy you, Dean said in a persuasive voice, “It was just simple lightning. Many things might come as unexpected. You can't always get scared.”

You said, “Like what things?” as if in plea.

You stared at his wonderfully shaped lips in the darkness as he spoke in a whisper. Your lips felt so dry that you wanted to lick them. Although you hoped he didn't notice, at that point you weren't really worried. Yes, you were a virgin with no prior experience, and you were very determined to keep your body and mind closed off to others, but things seemed different when you met Dean. It wasn't that you were old-fashioned-minded; you just wanted to be with someone you cared for, someone you loved.

You were aware that the desire to be near him was more than simply passion; you wanted to touch his face, jaw, hair, and every other part of him. Your soul yearned to be near him desperately.

Dean failed to notice when another lightning strike made you jump. It wasn't the finest moment for him to think clearly. There was always something enjoyable to do. Given that you've known each other for a while and that it must have been a while since you allowed someone to touch you, it seemed appropriate to blow off steam with each other. It was, after all, a difficult and somewhat tiresome a few hours earlier.

Just when you thought you were going to pass out, Dean suddenly captured your lips and began to give you an urgent, intense kiss. Yes, you were somewhat inexperienced, but at least you've had a kiss. Quite some time ago, indeed. You made an effort to calm down, returned his kisses with your best effort, let your racing thoughts disappear into the darkness, and gave yourself over to that single perfect moment.

You sucked Dean's lower lip, and your fingers stroked his jaw as his skillful tongue dominated yours. He must have been encouraged by your response because he moaned a bit as he shoved you back on the coach and pushed you to lie under him. He kept giving you firm kisses throughout.

His muscular neck was stroked by your hands as you drew him in between your knees. You shuddered as he put his body between your legs. It was the realization that your body was missing something that you were unable to identify. Your entire body exuded passion and desire. It hurt to need Dean so much. You had no idea how you had been able to contain yourself for so long.

You were longing to touch him all over.

Dean moved his lips to your throat, allowing you to take a deep breath. You were unable to contain a giggle as he violently sucked on your neck and throat. You realized you were sensitive there.

“Don't keep those lovely noises from me. Are we not the only ones alone in here?” While he boldly touched your skin beneath your shirt, Dean whispered. Though you urged yourself to relax down a little, you felt like your heart would burst at any minute.

It was possible that he might back off if you revealed to him that you were a virgin. It was certain that he would. You attempted to pretend that you had experience too and that it had simply been a long time because he was just interested in hook-ups, and that's what you were going to go through. It hurt to admit it, but maybe things would change.

You never would have imagined that you would feel that way about Dean, and you refused to miss the opportunity to be with him by telling him you weren't deflowered just yet. All you had to do was appear bold and avoid raising suspicion with your awkwardness.

Your cheeks flushed red, but at least the room was completely dark, keeping your almost scared gaze and timid finger movements hidden from him.

Your hands gently slipped inside his t-shirt, touching every muscle in so as to savor it. Your breath quivered with anticipation as your palm brushed every part of him. You could never let someone else touch you in the same manner that Dean did.

Dean's eyes were on you, and as he nibbled your lower lip, you urged him to remove his shirt. You could see he was smiling a little bit when he pulled it off. That you were prepared to go one step beyond thrilled him.

You must have pushed your injured hand a little bit hard when you gasped in little pain after both of your hands reached his back and you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles beneath your palms.

“Hey, be careful and take your time there. Remember that all you are is a wounded gazelle under my mercy. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” As he worked on your clothing, Dean said in amusement.

You moaned in surprise as one of his hands slipped into your shirt and gave you a strong grip on your nipple. “Maybe I am,” you murmured, almost laughing, but the noise you made turned into a moan.

You made a little movement beneath him. It seemed as though your body needed something from you or him, but you were completely unaware of what was going on. All you knew was that you were desperate for Dean to do something.

You gasped somewhat alarmed as your nipple hardened between his skilled fingertips. As he slid on top of you and played with your tits, you got excited more and more, assuming that he wanted this as much as you did. You thought for a moment that it was actually romantic considering it was all dark and raining like hell outside, like the whole heaven wanted you to be with him.

You nailed Dean's back with boldness, crushed your lips to his once more, kissing him with desire while trying your hardest not to show Dean how shy you were in fact. It relieved you to hear him groan a bit in your mouth. You moaned quietly into his lips as soon as his thumb started playing with your nipples once again.

Dean moved quickly to help you remove your shirt by pulling back. You were shivering a little, but even though he was making your skin hot, you would have blamed the room's cool temperature if he had asked.

His lips made their way to your nipples, where he expertly sucked them with his tongue. Your back arched as his lips nibbled your breasts delicately, and you forgot about your envious thoughts about how many other women he had treated like this. This time, you were unable to stop your loud moan from filling the room.

Dean gave both of your nipples little licks and a firm kiss after sucking your tits for many minutes, making them slippery with his spit, and making you cry out beneath his body. You didn't know how pleasurable it was to be with someone doing such things.You were aware that you were attempting to create friction by placing your leg on his hip.

He whispered to your lips, “I bet you're fucking dripping there,” as his hands gently moved into your sweatpants. He was trying to see every expression on your face in the dark. His voice was rough as he asked, “Are you wet enough to take me?”

You managed to say something like “Hmm,” which is sufficient. “I think I am.”

“We must be sure,” Dean remarked in a lighthearted manner. “Let's see.”

Dean slid his fingers slowly inside your sweatpants. He was grinning a little over you when he heard your heartbeat. As you waited for what was going to happen, you gripped onto his shoulder.

His fingers touched your underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise as he gave you a soft touch. Every second, you felt like you were becoming wetter. You believed you might orgasm at any minute since your clit was so sensitive to him. You wanted more because of how ethereal and gentle his hands were. You needed to raise your hip to him and squeeze his bisceps in order to receive what your body craved.

Satisfied, Dean moved your underwear aside as he watched you twitch under him in desperation. He rubbed your clit some more, then used two fingers to feel how wet you were.

Dean kept pushing back on his groan. He said in surprise, “Fuck, I knew you'd be wet, but you are literally leaking there.” You had no idea whether or not it satisfied him. All you wanted to do was the right thing. Regardless of what it was.

You lied when you said, “It's been very, very long,” since you had no idea what to say. The way he responded truly made you feel a little awkward.

You felt better after sharing quick kisses on the lips with him. “Good,” was Dean's sharp reply. “How many times can I get you to come to me tonight? You deserve appropriate treatment in light of the effort you have been doing these last few months, you know. I must reward you.”

Encouraged, you had a blossoming sensation of bliss and anticipation in your chest. You wished that light would never return and that you and him would always be in the dark together in that very moment.

He touched you during hunts and other times to make jokes, but you didn't used to be physical like that. Watching him being intimate with other women except you was agonizing. But now you knew you could touch him whatever you pleased right now. Just like you imagined when you thought about him, you touched yourself.

Dean palmed your moisture in his hand, causing you to both pant into each other's mouths. You felt a little uneasy as one of his fingers began to gently press into your entrance since you weren't sure if it would hurt that much or not. You just didn't tell him anything since you didn't want to spoil things. All you did was wait expectantly.

He said, “You're a tight one, aren't you?” as he kept his finger inside of you. You were glad Dean wasn't being swift with you. You withdrew your lips from biting and captured his, pushing him into doing what he needed or desired as well.

Dean expected that you would be tight, but he didn't anticipate that level of tightness. He was taken aback by how tightly your walls clamped around his finger, and he couldn't help getting thrilled at the thought of feeling your cock around him. He was shivering with excitement coursing through his veins.

You bit your lip hard in pain as he pressed his thick finger a little further. You didn't make any sound that might have stopped him. Dean would stop in an instant, you knew.

He must have realized how uncomfortable you were, though, because he began to touch your clit more in an effort to prepare you to become accustomed to him and make you wet enough to take him.

As he worked on your clit, he remarked, somewhat smirking, “It seems we need to get you ready for me; otherwise, it might be painful a bit for you.”

“I'm prepared. Really,” you said, lifting your hips in the course of action. “You can go on.”

Dean groaned a bit and pressed his finger inside again. He used extreme caution. You whimpered and attempted to make yourself quiet by stealing kisses from him to silence your whimpers.

Dean withdrew his finger and then thrust it back, not allowing you to say something. His abrupt movement caused your lips to parted in pleasure and enthusiasm. Even though there was still some discomfort, it was soon overshadowed by pleasure and desire as he began to properly finger you. You grabbed onto his shoulders because your pussy hurt from yearning. You tried to put your groaning mouth into Dean's, but he wouldn't let you kiss him.

You could not help but let a moan out in ecstasy as your back arched when he gently pushed another finger and began to fuck you with them. You made a valiant effort, but it was impossible to avoid coming so quickly and effortlessly.

Dean moaned, “Give it to me,” realizing that you were making it difficult to come. “Come to me now. You're almost there; I know that.”

As soon as your climax hit, Dean grabbed your lips and planted a passionate kiss on it as he touched your chin with one hand, allowing you to ride your pleasure in between moans.

Your hips rose to get more pleasure as though you could, your back arched, and your walls clenched hard as you rode your climax. Dean's experienced tongue expertly dominated yours as he murmured into your lips. He withdrew to give you a bit of time, and while he did so, he studied your face in the darkness, as if he wanted to remember each and every shadow that passed across your skin in the flickering light.

He was at a loss as to why he had never touched you before. For a while, at least, it felt pleasant enough to become sidetracked.

Your cheeks became scarlet as your climax wore on, but you were itching to go one step more. For that, you were ready. For a long while, you had been ready to give Dean everything.

If he asked, there was nothing you wouldn't give away.

You planted a hesitant kiss on him to gauge his reaction before your shaky hands made contact with his legs and through his trousers. You could see more of his face as your eyes grew used to the gloom. Your hands became braver as you watched him smile, and boldness invaded your body and thoughts. The sexual experience shouldn't be difficult. Particularly with him.

Shortly after your hand briefly ran over his hardened cock through his trousers, your fingers somewhat slid into his boxer. You were taking your time to gauge his reaction. You were hoping he wouldn't say no, draw a line, or worse, end it up.

You yearned to offer him the same pleasure that he gave you.

In a weak but hopeful voice, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

With a charming chuckle, Dean added, “You can do whatever you like.” His voice carried expectation, which made you thrilled even more.

You reached out and stroked his erect cock, feeling that it was safe to go a step further and meet his gaze with yours. His sly smile vanished from his mouth as he stifled a moan and shifted on top of you, his hand still resting on your thighs and legs.

He said, “It seems like you're cold,” as soon as you began to touch him.

You retracted your icy hand in an ashamed attempt to mumble a “sorry,” but Dean reacted swiftly and put your hand back to his aching cock.

He responded, “We'll get you warm,” and helped you put your hand around his cock to feel closer to him and to give you the confidence to continue. “Your hand feels so good around me.”

Driven by his words, you felt each vein on his cock and then circled your fingers around it to memorize him. You weren't familiar with his length or anything because you weren't an expert on male anatomy, but he was thick, so it was difficult to properly wrap your hands around him. You reasoned that it would be best to take some action to get him to come.

You moved your hands and began to rub him, trying not to feel shy as you stared into his eyes. Your chest was rising with excitement, and your breathing was heavy. His gasping for air made you pleased and aroused; all you had to do was give him the same pleasure.

Dean told you, “You're doing so good,” in between strokes.

You inquired quietly, “Do you like it?”

“I really like it,” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your neck. He paused at your sweatpants and began to carefully lower them with his hands.

Your hands were moving more quickly on him, and your heart was racing. He felt larger in your grip. He was nearly there. But Dean gently stopped you, pushing your hands aside and planting a kiss on your lips. You sensed that the big move was about to happen.

He saw you were becoming stiff as he assisted you in taking down your sweatpants and underwear, so he questioned you suspiciously, “Are you nervous?”

You lied once more while waiting for him to remove his clothing. “No, of course, not,” you said. When he removed his boxer, you could have practically felt the chills beneath you. You had everything you had on the floor. “It's just cold in here.”

“Trust me, you'll feel warm very soon,” said Dean confidently. His tone had hints of dedication.

You shifted slightly beneath him to find a more comfortable position. Luckily, there was plenty of room in the coach. You put your hands on Dean's back, feeling his hardness on your stomach, and you waited for him to do something already. Though plainly aroused and moist, you were still a little anxious. You

didn't want to come seem as inexperienced, though. You wished for this to keep going.

“I do trust you.” That was true at least.

Dean believed you.

While you waited, he took his cock and gave himself two or three strokes. Witnessing him stroking himself got you even more aroused.

Dean positioned himself on your entrance, making you tense up a little, then brushed his hard cock on your clit after making sure you were both ready. But you were determined to see it through to the end. It was almost like a chance to win him over in a romantic way. Maybe.

He pressed the tip of his cock, and you laid your hands on his back and nailed him like crazy. He was able to slide inside you very easily because of how wet you were, yet it was still uncomfortable and painful.

You bit your lip to suppress your agonizing groans and not to make him stop, so as not to seem like a wounded animal or anything.

Dean groaned over you, “Fuck, you are really tight,” pausing just before pulling away. It was difficult for him to fit inside completely.

You whispered to him, embarrassed, “Sorry,” attempting to calm down and let him in.

“Just relax,” Dean said, taking another position. You nodded to him quickly.

He again pushed his cock inside of you. This time, your pussy was around him tightly, drawing him within. He let out a sigh of delight at that. Your eyes welled up with tears as he withdrew and used a forceful motion to push himself forward. It was as though he was slicing you in two. Thankfully, he was unaware that a few tears had trickled down from your eyes onto the coach. However, you were unable to cease whimpering in pain.

Dean sensed when you were ready and gave himself a single, full thrust. You nailed his belly and back and moaned in agony this time because of his harsh moment.

You were no longer a virgin while you were lying beneath him. Even though the man you loved was unaware that you had given him something unique, you knew that no matter what happened, you would never regret it.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. He could not believe how tight you were. Your walls were drawing him in, constricting around him all the while. If he was less experienced, he would have come inside you as soon as he entered your pussy.

“I am,” you urged him to continue, your voice quivering. “Just give me a moment, please.”

Dean gave you a kiss to help you relax. He saw that you were a bit anxious and that you needed to wet yourself a little more before you could handle him. He was sure sloppy kisses would be helpful.

Dean stepped back after a while and questioned, “Are you ready now?” You were clenching around him, and his patience was getting thin.

You nodded to him, and Dean retreated and pushed inside again without waiting another moment. The way he fucked you was rough and painful for you. You didn't complain though, even if it was hard to get used to his size and pace in such a short amount of time. He moved slowly at first, but as you got wetter beneath him, he accelerated his pace.

Dean moaned, “You're taking me so well,” while fucking you in a rough way. His delighted tone and praises made your heart sing. “I like how tight you are.”

You only said, "For you." His compliments caused the anguish to become joy, and this time you didn't suppress your moans. You had no idea that you would enjoy this so much.

“Oh yeah?” he said, teasing as he whispered into your neck, picking up speed. “You sound so sweet. Do you like the way I fuck you? I should have fucked your lovely tight cunt sooner.”

Your face turned red the moment he spoke dirty words into your ear. They were about how much he liked fucking you everything else. The whole room was filled with sloppy and obscene sounds that made you blush with shyness. You were becoming even more excited at the sound of his heavy balls hitting your pussy. You began to tighten up around him. Although you were trying to hold back to extend the moment, you were getting close.

“This won't take long,” he groaned, getting his fingers tense around your flesh. It was difficult for Dean to control himself. You were tightening around him, whimpering beneath him. “Come to me. Come now!”

When Dean moved around a little inside of you, he started to fuck you harder and find your sensitive spot. With a groan, “Take it. Come on,” he said, fucking you senseless.

You reached your climax and clenched him with his name on your lips as your screams became louder and you were unable to contain yourself any longer. Dean proceeded to fuck you throughout your climax by lifting your hips and drawing his body to you in order to receive more pleasure. You believed you might come again right there since your pussy was throbbing so much.

After Dean made sure you rode your orgasm, he let out a deep grumble, pulled out his cock in between your startled gasps, and began to stroke himself. You became excited by his stroking himself on top of you, even though you had just rode your climax.

When Dean began to empty himself on your thigh and stomach, you jumped. You waited for him to empty himself as you saw him spill his hot white ropes all over your body. You glared in shock as you watched him riding his pleasure.

You were no longer a virgin there, under him. It had happened. You were aware that he was only a friend and that the situation was really a bit awkward. You waited for remorse to surface, thinking that nothing would change with him, but it didn't. You didn't feel any sign of regret. Giving something unique to a loved one, even if it held no significance for them, was never wrong. After all, love was generous, and it always needed to consume the untouched places of your body and spirit.

With a low grunt, Dean moved your bodies on the coach and, to your astonishment, embraced you. It was obvious that he was satisfied. Dean grabbed the blanket that was hanging from the coach's corner and laid it over your bodies. You trembled as the heat took the place of the cold. You simply drew nearer to him to enjoy the moment because you had no idea what to do. You pondered whether this would occur once again.

Jokingly, you said, “What now?” Still, a lot of questions raced through your head.

Dean sighed and said, “It's pretty late and seems like the rain won't stop any soon, so let's sleep.” You remained silent regarding what had transpired.

Saying, “Okay,” you leaned into his embrace and made an effort to keep as close to him as you could. The thrill you had just had began to gradually fade away, leaving you alone yourself with despair and sadness.

Dean remarked, “By the way,” before he closed his eyes. “Let's not talk about this to Sam or someone else, alright?” Though gentle and soothing, his words were sharp and cut you through.

You said, “Sure,” immediately away. “Of course not.”

As though nothing had occurred and you weren't naked in each other's arms, you told each other good night. Although it was awkward, you made the choice. When you made the decision to go all the way with him, you knew that was what would happen.

You got out of bed before Dean did, picked up your clothes from the floor, and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Whatever is done is done. It was irreversible; you convinced yourself. Nothing was a regret for you. You were relieved that it only happened with Dean. It was the appropriate decision for you to keep the details from him. He wasn't made to feel oppressed by you or anything. This would ruin the friendship and also ruin you.

Dean also woke up, and you two didn't chat much after that. You felt a little uncomfortable, but as soon as Dean returned to his lighthearted demeanor, you felt at ease and acted naturally. When you saw he didn't put distance between you, you felt relaxed.

That's how three weeks went by. Everything was well.

Following a disastrous hunt that left Sam with an arm injury, you enter their home and assist Sam in taking care of his arm. The hunt this time was challenging, and you were distracted.

Sam was giving you and Dean one of his puppy looks. You felt terrible.

With remorse, you murmured, “I'm sorry, Sam.” He injured his harm in order to protect you, yet he didn't blame you for anything. You have probably never met someone as kind as he was.

He said, “It's okay,” and made an agonizing moan as you carefully cleansed his arm.

Dean snapped, “It's not,” in a harsh voice. He was across the room, observing Sam and you. He had his fists crossed over his chest, obviously frustrated with the current state of things. After all, Sam was his brother. “There, you should have been careful. Sam could have hurt badly because of you.”

“I know,” you said, panicked. “You are right.”

“I don't think so,” Dean stated sharply, glancing at Sam's injured arm. “You've been distracted for a while. I attempted to ignore it and hide the mistakes you made, but today they could end up killing Sam.”

Your pulse raced, and you felt guilty as you proceeded to handle Sam's arm carefully. As he persisted in blaming you, you found it difficult to contain your emotions.

“It won't happen again,” you stated in a tremulous tone while keeping your gaze on Sam's arm.

“It's alright. Dean, please stop being so grumpy,” Sam eventually pleaded in an insistent voice.

“You shut up,” Dean said, gesturing to Sam as if he were a little child. In fact, you were aware that he remained a child in Dean's eyes.

As you began to wrap a white cloth around Sam's injured arm, he groaned and pressed his groan back. “You're being annoying right now,” he said.

“I'm going to be more annoying if you two keep acting like this, you know.”

You said, “I'm really sorry,” and you gave Dean and Sam sincere looks. “It really won't happen again.”

Dean nodded at you quickly and sighed. However, it was clear that he was frustrated with you. “He's all I have.”

“I know.”

You and Sam didn't say anything further about what had transpired. Thankfully, despite his curious and suspicious stare, he remained silent. To get better, you had to gather yourself. But it was challenging. You questioned whether being near Dean worked as a deterrent for him to stay away from you.

A week went by, and Dean came home with a blonde woman by his side as you and Sam were spending the night in the house eating pies and watching a movie.

Jealousy took over you, but you smiled and greeted them instead of pulling a grouchy face and making a scene. Dean's hookups and lovers became routine to you. The things that had happened weeks ago weren't important, even if it was hard to admit. Not a word about it was spoken.

Last several days, Dean had been annoyed, but when he kissed the blonde, he was a completely different person. Happier, more relaxed. Though your heart was pounding from pain and suffering, your gaze remained riveted on the TV. It was pathetic how much you wanted to be her. It was a hard swallow.

When she, Dean, or Sam told you something, you smiled and engaged in conversation so as not to arouse suspicion. They eventually made their way to Dean's room, and this is when your eyes started to well up with tears. You were unable to stop it. You uttered a little sound as your heart gripped with so much agony and suffering. You had no idea why. It might all have been different, but it wasn't.

Sam saw your eyes become wetter in the light, and he gave you a dubious look, but none of you said anything.

You longed to travel back in time as soon as you heard it began to rain outside. This time, you weren't fond of the rain or how it felt.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please. ^^

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