warnings: suggestive themes but no smut or anything graphic
pairing: hotch x reader (no use of y/n); established relationship
word count: 332
a/n: lol i just wanna write some self indulgent smut but this will have to do until fluffy feb is over <33
“Stop it”, you admonish lightly. “We’re going to be late.”
You’ve been trying for at least 10 minutes to put your necklace on and failing miserably. Getting distracted by a certain Unit Chief who keeps coming up behind you to put his hands on your waist, or kiss your neck, or nibble your ear.
“Can’t help it”, he mumbles distractedly, lips pressed to the spot just below your ear. “Not when you look this good.” His lips continue their journey down your neck, onto your shoulder.
You can’t help but let out a sigh at the feeling of his lips on your skin. The soft love bites preventing you from doing anything else but focus on the sensation of his mouth on you.
“Aaron…”, you whine in a half-hearted attempt at scolding. This just makes his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him; your back to his front. “I need to get ready.”
“I think we should just stay in”, he whispers into your ear, causing goosebumps to break out across your arms and heat pool in your belly. He kisses the other side of your neck, “I think we should get unready.”
“As much as I may want to”, you begin. Your arm reaches behind your head to run a hand through his hair, effectively keeping him in place. “You know we can’t.”
His strong hands slowly start to make their way up your torso, stopping at your ribcage, just below your chest. His thumbs gently rubbing back and forth making it extremely difficult to believe the words you just said.
“I know”, he murmurs regretfully, placing one more kiss to your shoulder before dropping his head to rest his chin on your shoulder. “But I thought I’d try.”
You turn around to face him, a grin spreading on your face. Standing on your toes to kiss his waiting mouth, arms circling his neck. You breathe out a light laugh, “A for effort”, before your lips find his.
an: this is my last blurb of fluffy feb! thank you @doctorstethoscope for putting together this event, it’s been so much fun and has kept me writing when my motivation is so so low— i love you sm!
fluffy feb masterlist | moonknight masterlist
“Dove, wake up,” Steven murmurs into your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
You stir, groaning softly before you roll over and shake your head. Your eyes do not open, and you clutch the fluffy comforter closer.
He chuckles, following you to the other side of the bed and wrapping you in his arms. “It’s the first snow, c’mon.”
“Too early.”
“It’s our tradition,” He places another kiss on your cheek.
“Too dark,” You groan, scooting closer to the edge, as if you can escape him.
Steven follows, a wide grin spread across his face, “We do this every winter.”
“Too cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm,” He assures, squeezing you tighter in his arms.
“Steven,” You whine, finally opening your eyes and glaring over your shoulder at him.
“The snow, it’ll wake you up,” He insists, using one of his fingers to delicately wipe the sleep from the corners of your eyes.
“You’re not giving up.”
“No, dove, I’m not. Up and attem’, yeah? I’ll make you french toast for breakfast.”
“And do that fancy latte art?”
“Mhmm,” He hums, leaning in to press a kiss to your mouth.
“Alright, alright. I’m up.”
“Dress warmly, dear, I’ll get our coats,” He hops out of bed, and that’s when you realize that he’s not in his pjs.
You narrow your eyes at him, “You’re already dressed?”
“Been up for ages, watchin’ you snore,” He teases as he crosses the flat.
“I don’t snore,” You grumble as you hop out of bed and head into the bathroom.
Steven doesn’t reply to your denial, but you hear his sweet laugh float through the door as you stumble sleepily through your morning routine. By the time you’ve made it out and are pulling jeans and a sweater out of the closet, he’s wrapped up in his coat, his unruly curls tucked into a black beanie.
“Coming, I swear,” You start to move a bit quicker when he playfully arches a brow at you.
Once you’re dressed, Steven helps you into your coat before slipping your own beanie onto your head. He guides the both of you out of the flat and down into the building’s courtyard. The cold air bites at your cheeks, and you’re immediately grateful for Steven’s warm hand in yours. The snow is falling gently, caressing the ground like a knit blanket. Dead grass and shrubs still peek through the white, though it’s supposed to snow all day and soon everything will be covered in glittery white powder.
Because it’s early, it is just the two of you, surrounded by the gray and white haze of this snowy morning. It’s quiet for once in London, none of the honking and shouting cutting through this little slice of peace that you and Steven are sharing.
He raises his face to the sky, letting the flakes dust all over his face, “You know I could smell it coming when we fell asleep last night.”
“You always say that, you can’t smell snow, Steven.”
“People say they smell rain all the time, who’s to say I can’t smell snow?”
“Me, that’s who.”
“Somethin’ tells me I could convince you otherwise,” He grins cheekily at you, before leaning in for a kiss.
His lips are cold, a little wet from the melted snow but you kiss him back eagerly, your hands rising to cup both of his cheeks. You can taste the tea he must’ve quietly brewed while you were dead to the world but there’s something else. Something unique, that you can only contribute to the morning’s precipitation.
“You taste like snow,” You whisper quietly— as if speaking any louder will break this bubble.
He bumps his nose against yours, eyes narrowed, “Oh, alright, so you can taste it but I can’t smell it?”
“Seems we’re on the same page.”
“I’ll show you what page we’re on when there’s enough snow for a fight.”
Dusk has hit when he drags you back outside, the snow up to your ankles. You bury him in snowballs, and Steven concedes: no you can’t smell snow, but one can certainly taste it.
moonknight taglist: @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @laurensprentiss, @lesbianhotch, @toracainz (bc i thought of u the whole time 🥺)
It’s all fun and games until a drink gets spilled down your back.
It was a girls night out, with Emily, JJ and Penny, and you’d had a great time, really– you’d danced, you’d drank, you’d laughed. But your feet were starting to hurt and the thumping base was starting to irritate you, and then someone even drunker than you spilled their vodka cran onto you. So, yeah. The night was over.
As the girls stepped out and coordinated an Uber, you texted Aaron and asked him to come pick you up. The two of you were a new development, but the team already knew and he’d offered to come get you when he’d learned that you had plans tonight. You’d hoped you’d drank enough water to avoid a hangover, but if you hadn’t, being hungover at Aaron’s seemed far preferable to waking up sick and alone at your place.
He pulls up, and the girls shoo you along despite your offer to stay until their ride arrived– they’d be fine together, they insisted.
“Go get your man!” Penelope cheered after you, and you rewarded her with a laugh and calls of goodnight.
“Hey,” you say as you open the passenger door of Aaron’s SUV.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. “I brought you a sweatshirt, since you said your shirt got ruined,” he says, handing you the practically threadbare FBI Academy sweatshirt he knew you’d prefer to wear to bed.
You could actually cry, but you try to reign it in, not wanting to be a drunken, sobbing mess quite this early in the relationship.
“Thank you, baby,” you say, closing yourself into the car and making quick work of changing— Aaron’s tinted windows provided you with a reasonable enough amount of privacy.
“Did you have a good time?” Aaron asks as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Yeah, we had a lot of fun,” you tell him. “Did you do anything tonight?”
“I took Jack to the park after dinner, we met up with some of his friends from school before they all went to the Coopers place for a sleepover,” he tells you, and your eyelids suddenly feel heavy.
“I’m tired,” you yawn. “And thirsty… and also hungry,” you realize.
You pull up to a red light, and Aaron reaches into the backseat, finding a McDonalds bag and a drink. “I can help with that,” he said, handing the goods over to you.
“You are a literal angel on earth,” you praise him as you poke your straw through the lid.
“Far from it, but I’m glad you think so,” he says, placing a warm hand on your thigh as he drives.
By the time Aaron pulls the car into his driveway, you’re practically asleep, and in no rush to get out of the car.
“C’mon, angel,” he encourages you, repeating your own term of affection back to you. “We’re home. Let’s go to bed,” he says, leaning across the center console to press a kiss to your temple before getting out of the car and coming around to your side to help you out.
You know that he’d carry you, but you don’t want him to hurt his back trying to get you up the stairs, so when he opens your door, you slink your way out of the car and let him place a hand on the small of your back to guide you into the house and up the stairs. When you make it to bed, you notice he’s already set up a glass of water and a bottle of tylenol on your bedside table.
“I think I might love you,” you mutter as you settle into your pillow, and you’re asleep before you have time to overthink your declaration.
Aaron, however, is wide awake, watching you sleep from his side of the bed. “I think I might love you, too.”
Hotch stepped up to the counter and grabbed both trays, handing one of them to Penelope behind him. It was a much needed break while on a case.
The pair stepped off to the side to verify the orders were correct.
"Uh...sir... What did you order, exactly?" Penelope asked about the chocolate whipped cream concoction that was most definitely not his normal order.
"Double chocolate chip frap with skim milk, extra espresso, extra syrup inside the cup," he rattled off, satisfied with the other orders by this point. "I...uh... It's my partner's normal order. I sometimes get it on these longer cases. Reminder of home."
summary: jake surprises you 3 times in the span of a few minutes.
pairing: gn!reader x jake lockley (hints of marc spector/steven grant)
warnings: canon typical description of DID, coffee mention, kissing
word count: 683
an: day 6 is coffee order!!! this is my first time writing for jake so PLEASEEEE be gentle 😭. thank you the marc’s girls server for making me sufficiently obsessed with jake. andddd happy name day to my dear @missdictatorme <3333.
fluffy feb masterlist | moonknight masterlist
You’re the coffee run person in this duo– though duo is the wrong word, since Marc shares his headspace with two other men. He is generally who you work with on missions– Steven prefers to stay out of this line of work the best he can and Jake. He’s solitary, not out of choice but out of mistaken necessity. Jake will take any mission he can and go on it alone to keep you safe because he would rather you not see him as a monster.
Which is why its a surprise when you step into their shared flat and recognize him. Its not just the way he walks—they all have a different gait to their stride— but its the way he clenches his jaw, the depth and darkness of his eyes. You are even more surprised when coffee is already sat on the kitchen island.
“You already got coffee?” You ask, setting down the to go holder with the coffee you’d just gotten down.
“Yes,” He says simply.
“But, you never get us coffee– none of you do.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” He says, as if its a complete explanation.
It isn’t but you have a more pressing question.
“Did you even know what to get me?” You ask, not unkindly. But you’re pretty sure out of the 3 of them, Jake has paid you the least attention.
He tilts his head, the corner of his lips quivering slightly, “Take a sip.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but pick up the cup sat lonely in the holder. The skepticism is wiped from your face when you take the first sip– it's perfect, your coffee order to a tee, though its never tasted this good when you order it.
Your eyes go wide as you take another sip, “How did you know?”
“We share a brain.”
“Marc knows?” You ask skeptically.
“Steven says to give him some credit.”
“Well…thank you. It’s perfect.”
His lips pull up slightly in the corner as he turns back to the computer in front of him, “You’re welcome.”
Before you can think about it, you’re crossing the space and wrapping your arms around him. Jake stiffens for a moment, unsure of what’s happening– but the two other men that occupy the headspace have their own opinions and he relaxes.
“I mean it,” You say firmly, turning your head to look at him.
Jake’s eyes meet yours. He’s never been this close to you, and never allowed him to look at you so thoroughly and unapologetically. The intensity of his gaze has your breath caught in your throat, but you are unable to move away, pinned by the depth of his brown eyes.
“So do I,” He rasps, eyes tracing the delicate curve of your lashes before briefly falling to your lips.
Your brain is screaming at you, willing your mouth to form words, to ask Jake to lean in just a bit more and press his mouth to yours but you find that you can’t. He can see the plea in your eyes though, feel your heart pumping quickly in your chest from where its pressed to his back.
In his mind there is nothing but silence– something he doesn’t get often. But it is clear what it means. Steven and Marc are allowing him to make his own choice independently. They’re letting him choose you for himself. That coupled with the desperation in your eyes has him surging forward, capturing your mouth with his.
His mouth is hungry and unforgiving, and you succumb to it happily, allowing his tongue to lick into the wetness of you. He hums at the taste of you that’s muddled with the sweetest of your coffee. At the sound, your hands start to explore in a way you wanted to so many times before, running slowly across the span of his chest and up into his curls.
“Did you mean that too?” You breathe with a grin when he breaks the kiss, chest heaving.
“Yes,” His eyes are hazy, still roaming your face as if he’s in disbelief.
“So did I.”
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pairing: hotch x reader (nb reader, use of y/n) one of those "not really together but we all know it's gonna happen" things
word count: 396
a/n: just a lil bit of rossi inserting himself into hotch's business and a pining hotch cause we love to see it!!
After placing a fresh cup of tea on your desk, he makes his way up to his office, own steaming cup in his hand. When he enters his office, he notices Dave is already in his.
“Where’s mine?” Rossi asks with a slight smile on his face.
“Hmm?” Aaron’s too preoccupied with the pile of paperwork on his desk to understand what the other man is talking about.
“My drink. I saw you drop off one for y/n.” he continues, a mischievous lilt to his voice.
Hotch looks up at your name and then immediately realizes what he’s just done. Rossi confirms this by giving him a shit eating grin.
“I also noticed you giving them your jacket while out of state last month when they said they were cold. Offering to buy them dinner that one night we all had to stay late a few weeks ago. Oh! And there was -”
“Dave”, Aaron says abruptly. “I got it.”
Rossi just smiles at Aaron, giving him a slight reprieve from his onslaught of observations.
Hotch was more than a little annoyed. He had thought he was being subtle, but apparently not.
He was well aware of his feelings about you, he didn’t need Rossi reminding him of something he couldn’t have.
Dave, apparently deciding Aaron had enough of a break, continues, “So are you just going to hope they catch on or do you plan on telling them?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Aaron looks at the older man, a thousand different responses on his tongue before finally saying, “I can’t. Not yet.”
Dave, in all his wisdom, knows when to stop pushing. So instead he says, “Ok” and begins to walk out of Hotch’s office.
“Just promise you won’t wait too long”. When Aaron nods but won’t meet Rossi’s eye, he continues, “I mean, I can’t promise that the rest of the team won’t find out.”
Aaron’s head snaps up at that, eyes narrowing at the thinly veiled threat, to see Dave placidly smile at him from the doorway.
Hotch sighs, “Sometimes I hate you, Dave.”
“I know.”
And with that he’s out the door leaving Aaron alone with his thoughts. His eyes eventually wander to you down in the bullpen sitting at your desk working.
He would have to do something soon before this got out of hand.
Being able to get dressed up in a dress you would never normally wear, getting your hair and nails done, and wearing more makeup than you normally would.
Feeling beautiful is not something you feel often, your job doesn’t really allow much time for that. But right now, looking into the mirror, you feel gorgeous and you can’t help but smile at your reflection.
Not only was getting ready a dream, but it’s who you were going to be spending your night with. A handsome man by the name of Aaron Hotchner would be at your side all night, wearing a tuxedo, and more than likely looking downright devastating.
There was only one problem: it wasn’t real. Well, it was really happening, yes, but it was an undercover mission. Technically you would be on the job.
You know it’s not really a date; you understand this. But you couldn’t help the what if. What if you and Hotch really did go on a date? What if you two really were together? What would happen? Where would you go? What would you talk about?
You let these thoughts swirl in your head the entire time you got ready, knowing you had to keep your head clear when you guys were at the gala.
At that moment, you hear a knock and your name being called softly from the other side.
“One moment!” you call out before giving yourself one last look over. Letting out a quick breath, you turn and open the bathroom door.
There, standing before you is Aaron. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again.
He’s stood there in a black and white, perfectly fit tuxedo, complete with pocket square. You can’t help yourself and look him up and down, taking him all in, not used to seeing him like this.
“Wow”, you whisper quietly, at a loss for words as you look at your boss. So lost are you in fact, that you miss the way his cheeks tinge pink as he watches you watch him. Your perusal and clear approval of his outfit of choice.
When you’re able to speak again, you meet his eyes, “You look incredible, Aaron.”
The use of his first name makes his chest constrict painfully. You very rarely use his first name, so anytime he hears it from you is a godsend. But hearing it from you while you’re looking at him like that? It’s a small wonder he hasn’t done something ridiculous like take you in his arms and kiss you senseless, mission be damned.
“Thank you”, he murmurs distractedly. His eyes finally able to tear away from yours to get a good look at you.
You blush as his eyes take stock of you, not used to seeing you like this. You can’t stand the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re something precious and something worth looking at. Like he could possibly feel the same way about you as you do him. It makes your throat feel tight so you have to swallow around the feeling; no longer able to meet his eyes.
It’s the revenant way in which he says your name that causes you to look up again.
“You look…”, he starts seemingly at a loss for words. He gives his head a shake as if to clear his thoughts, “You’re breath-taking.” Hotch finishes.
You’re sure your whole body is red if the heat you feel rolling over your skin is anything to go by.
A massive smile overtakes your face. You open your mouth to say something before you hear a polite but pointed clearing of a throat from behind you.
Shit.
Both you and Aaron’s eyes shift to look at the rest of your team just over your shoulder. All of them looking at the two of you with eyebrows high and conspiratorial grins.
You were both so wrapped up in each other that you had forgotten that the team was there. Because this wasn’t a date. This was a fucking mission.
You both look properly embarrassed before straightening up and getting your “professional faces” on.
“Right”, Aaron clears his throat. He looks at you, “You ready?” All business again but eyes still soft as he gazes at you.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s head out”, Hotch says as he offers you his elbow with the smallest hint of a smile on his face.
Smiling at his proffered elbow, you take it before craning your neck to look up at him.
“Let’s go, boss”, you say with a slight smirk before heading toward the door.
warnings: the movie grease if you hate it??? otherwise????
word count: 720
an: FF day 16 is one of my fav prompts of all time— person a washing person b’s hair. this perhaps the most self indulgent thing ive written to date and i will not apologize 😌. in case you forgot, happy black history month!
fluffy february masterlist | marvel masterlist
Marc had insisted.
You assured him time and time again that you could handle this, that you had since you’d been in high school.
Did you understand why he wanted to help? Of course.
Marc found his worth in doing, in fulfilling the needs of others by his actions instead of his words. That he was still learning, trying to do his best to be open and honest with you in your healthy relationship— the first he’d truly given himself over to in years. It’s why you eventually give in and say yes. It’s why you find him in the bathroom pouring over the labels on all your hair products.
“What are you doing?”
“You put all of this in your hair?” He gestures to the basket in front of him.
You chuckle, grinning over at him, “Yes.”
“Every time?” He asks in disbelief.
“Yes, baby.”
“Explains why it takes so fuckin’ long.”
“I told you, you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to, I want to. Come here,” He sets down the bottle of shampoo in his hands and holds them out for you. “Can I today?” He asks once you’ve walked over to him and he’s pulled you into his arms.
You hesitate for a moment, “Usually that’s a weekend activity.”
“Because it takes so long, but with me in charge, we’ll knock it out. C’mon let me give it a go.”
“Alright, alright, but there’s a lot you need to know.”
The two of you sit on the edge of the tub, and you explain the whole process to him. Detangling, washing, conditioning, detangling— yes, again you have to say to him with a chuckle. You decide to go easy on him, suggesting he put your hair in two plaits to dry when he’s finished. Marc listens to you explain all of this with a honed concentration, eyebrows knit together as he takes it all in.
He shrugs, and stands to his feet, “Easy— sit, I’ll be right back.”
When Marc returns he’s in nothing but swim trunks and you raise an eyebrow at him in questioning, “Taking this very seriously, huh?”
“I take everything about you seriously,” He murmurs distractedly as he looks for the spray bottle you mentioned.
And once he finds it, he immediately goes to work.
He hums as he detangles, somehow working so much faster than you while being scores gentler with your curls than you usually are. You’re surprised when he guides you up and says you’re ready for the next step.
The water feels nice on your skin and even better on your scalp when Marc guides your hair back under the shower head. Despite the violence that has stolen most of Marc’s life, the way he washes your hair is delicate. You learn that there’s nothing like the feeling of his fingertips carefully scrubbing your scalp. He repeats the process twice as you instructed him and by the time he rinses that second time you don’t want it to end.
He moves to pick up your conditioner when you reach for his hand, peering at him with soft eyes through the steam that’s begun to fog up the entire room.
“Will you do that again? Just one more time?” You ask, fixing your lips into a pout.
He raises an eyebrow, smirking, “Thought you wanted this to be quicker?”
“One more time can’t hurt too much right? It just felt so good.”
Marc has never been one to deny you, and with the blissful look he noticed on your face as he washed your hair, he won’t start now. He nods, leaning in to press a series of soft kisses to your lips before lathering his hands up with shampoo once more. You grin, making sure to thank him.
Two hours later, Marc has you both wrapped in towels. You’re sat in front of the mirror with him standing behind you, face twisted in concentration as he starts to braid your hair.
When the two of you finally make it to the couch— takeout ordered, Grease playing on the tv— neither of you mention that it actually took longer for him to do your routine. With the tenderness in the atmosphere, the peace in both of your hearts as you snuggle close to him, neither of you care.
