Fairway Femme Fatale

fairway femme fatale

bf!rafe x brattygf!reader (reader’s thoughts are pink, while rafe’s thoughts are blue!)

warnings: reader making rafe jealoussss, explicit language, sexual innuendos | masterlist

“Can you at least try to hit the ball?”, he complained.

“I am trying, Rafe!!”, you whined. Golf was much harder than you anticipated it to be - it went further than just wearing short skirts and driving around in a cart all day. Not to mention the people around you on the driving range, who all seemed to be pros compared to you.

You tried once more, hitting it, but only a few feet in front of you.

You heard him behind you, struggling to hide his laugh, and finally snapped, “Rafe don't laugh at me that’s not fair. You’ve been playing your whole life - I just started today and you promised to teach me and all you’re doing is laughing at me.”

He grinned, and you knew what he was thinking - she’s so cute when she’s pissed.

“Oh shut up, Rafe,” you scoffed.

“Didn’t say a word,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Have fun playing alone!”, you sarcastically smiled, shoving your club into your golf bag and spinning on your heels to walk back to the country club.

“Seriously? C’mon princess I was laughing because you’re so cute!”

“Right, cause that’s a normal reaction to seeing something cute - laughing at it,” you argued

He groaned, “You’re giving up before we even got off the driving range. After you didn’t respond, he made one last attempt to get you to stay, “I’ll buy you a drink at the halfway house?”

“I can buy my own drink, thanks Rafe,” you yelled back, before finally leaving him.

Ugh, this was such a waste of a good outfit.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“How’re you and the kook princess?”, Kelce nudged Rafe, making eyes at Topper. It was a regular Saturday for them, all golfing before the usual Saturday night party.

“Yeah, she still likes you?”, Topper snickered.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed - since when have they been interested in hearing about his relationship with you aside from what you were like in bed?

“Yeah,” he nodded with suspicion, “why?”

Kelce squeezed Rafe’s shoulder, barely able to get out the sentence: “Cause your girl is on some golf instructor's dick right now.”

They both fell into fits of laughter as Rafe seethed. He didn’t expect to see you there, in your short white skirt that barely reached your tanned thighs, and your tight shirt that left little to the imagination, bent over the golf club with some random dude behind you, angling your hips in the right direction.

“Didn’t know she took golf so seriously, I thought you said that she sucked at it?”, Topper joked, still snickering at the situation.

“Shut up,” Rafe yelled, pushing Topper away and making his way toward you.

The closer he got, the angrier he grew: you were genuinely smiling and laughing - your swing was even better than it was before.

When on one swing, you hit it especially far, you jumped up and down, clearly excited.

You went for another swing, but just as the club came up, Rafe grabbed it, stopping you from swinging and ripping the club from your grip.

“Rafe!“, you yelled, pulling your big sunglasses off to look at him.

“Hey bud… next time you go around flirting with other guys' girlfriends, especially mine, you might wanna make sure their boyfriends aren’t here to see it.”

“Sir- I wasn’t-”

Rafe held him by the collar of his polo, “You really want to be lying to me, uh,” he paused, eying his name tag, “Jack?”

“Rafe! Stop, seriously,” you pleaded.

“Sir, I really would never-”, Jack pleaded, cut off by the harsh punch Rafe landed on his face.

“Jack,” he still held him by the collar, “here’s one thing y’gotta know about me. I’m- I’m a proactive type of person, alright?”

Jack fearfully looked to you for help, but that only made Rafe angrier.

“What, you need fuckin grammatical help from her? Ya don’t know what proactive fuckin means?” he groaned, “gotta teach everything to you pogues.”

“It means,” he gripped Jack’s collar tighter, “that before you make a move on my girlfriend, that I stop you before you get to do it.”

“I didn’t make a move on her man,” Jack choked out.

Rafe only responded with another punch to Jack’s face, knocking him onto the ground.

Jack writhed, complaining of the pain.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”, you pushed at Rafe’s chest.

“Rafe, you really hurt him!”, you bent down to inspect the gash Rafe’s ring made near Jack’s eyebrow before he could drag you away.

“You’re hurting my arm, Rafe,” you whined as he pulled you along with him.

“Then walk faster,” he replied.

You let him take you to the parking lot but refused to get in the car with him.

“Would you just get in the car? I’m so sick of the dramatics with you!”, he yelled.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

“How would you feel if I was all over some girl? Especially at a place like this - you know how bad that makes me look?”

“You just publicly knocked a guy out and you’re blaming me for making you look bad? You’re acting like he had me on all fours out there - he was teaching me golf!”

He paused, trying his best to not lose it on you. “Would you please, baby, just get in the car? I’ll get you a coffee or whatever and we’ll… we’ll figure it out, alright?”

“No. I don’t have anything to figure out. I’m calling an Uber.”

He opened his mouth to plead more but was immediately shut up by the stern look on your face. You walked away, busying yourself by texting your friends about the situation until your Uber arrived.

Do you want me to follow your Uber home to make sure you’re safe?

I’m really sorry sweetheart

You ignored his texts for a bit, deciding you were gonna ignore him. At least until tonight. He needed time to think.

I’m following your Uber home so don’t be scared of the driver

“So dramatic…”, you audibly sighed.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“So he just punched the instructor just because he was teaching you golf?”

You nodded in response as you stepped into the party, the immediate smell of liquor and weed overwhelming your nose.

“That’s a little excessive,” your friend, Christa, responded.

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, making your way over to the drinks, where Topper, who was hosting the party, stood, flirting with some blonde girl.

“Ah the princess is here!!”, Topper slurred, a little wasted.

“We gotta get you some water, huh?”, you laughed, grabbing a white claw.

“Look,” you felt his hot breath on your neck, “Rafe feels bad, don’t be mad at him. Kelce and I were the ones who pointed it out to him, we didn’t think that it’d end up that bad.”

You shook your head, “Keep your nose out of our business, Top.”

He blinked, “jus’tryna help.”

Christa pulled you away for a song, and you two busied yourselves dancing for a bit. The person in charge of the AUX changed, and you and Christa grumbled, taking a break out on the deck.

Rafe, of course, was settled there in the corner, surrounded by a group of guys. You gave him a shy smile - yes, you were still mad at him, but you at least wanted to be cordial.

He blushed back, quickly getting up and making his way towards you, “Can we talk?”

You hummed and took his hand to pull him somewhere more private. He followed you upstairs, to the room furthest from the stairway, even stepping out onto the balcony so that neither of you would be interrupted.

You sat down, and he uncomfortably sat beside you - he was used to you sitting on his lap, in all honesty.

You looked down at your palms, suddenly nervous, but began nonetheless.

“The whole reason I was trying to learn golf was so that I could be with you doing something that I know you love. I don’t know… I figured it would be fun, you teaching me how to play.”

You looked up, and he nodded at you to continue. “So I went golfing with you. I was so excited - I picked out this really cute outfit with this juicy couture skirt and, and you just, shut me down.”

“I was really trying to learn, Rafe. I don’t do sports like that. I can do like… tennis and Pilates, but I’ve never done golf. And you laughed at me. And when I got upset, you didn’t apologize, you just laughed a little more and tried to bribe me with a drink.”

“I figured you didn’t want to hang out unless I was good at what I was doing. So I booked golf lessons. That was my second session, and I genuinely saw progress and was so excited to finally be able to play with you and show you how good I got. And instead, you just walked over and beat up the guy.”

“He was all over you,” he tried to reason.

You rolled your eyes, “do you not get it? I was trying to learn something for you because I love you and I want to have fun doing the things you love to do with you. The whole reason I did any of that was for you. The whole time that guy was teaching me all I was thinking was why couldn’t you teach me? And you probably could’ve, but instead, you chose to be jealous and mean.”

He stared at the beer in his hands, ashamed.

“I’m, I’m real sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know any of that.”

“And then I got pissed that we were even fighting over something this stupid. And that some guy had to get knocked out because of it.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, listening to the buzz of the party below you.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at you, and I shouldn’t have beat up that kid and I shouldn’t have grabbed your hand so hard pulling you away.”

You snuggled closer to him, his big arms wrapping around you and pulling you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry I always screw up…” he admitted.

“We all screw up,” you reasoned, “just not to the degree that you do.”

He put his head down, “I’m teasing you!!”

“No, you’re right,” he held onto you tighter, “I’m just lucky to have someone as forgiving as you.”

“You know what else you’re lucky to have?”

“What?”

“A girlfriend who still has a lot more to learn golf-wise and a ton of new outfits to wear golfing with you.”

He chuckled, pulling you in by your chin to kiss you. “Missed you,” he confessed against your lips.

“It’s been like… 5 hours,” you said in between kisses.

“5 long hours,” he corrected.

“You know what else is long and can go for 5 hours?”

He broke out in a laugh, “I just apologized for being a dick two seconds ago and you’re already horny?”

“I’ve been since I saw you beat up Jack at the driving range.”

“Me beating a guy up gets you all riled up?”, he teased, squeezing your ass.

“Mhmmm,” you hummed, kissing him and letting him carry you into the bedroom. You paused, pushing his chest back, “Y’know what else you’re lucky to have?”

“Hmmm?”, he kissed along your neck, waiting for your response.

“A girlfriend who gets turned on by everything you do.”

“Amen to that.”

“That was so hot when you followed me in the Uber”, you admitted, only because you were tipsy and missed him too.

He laughed against your chest, “I love you so much.”

taglist (message or comment to be added): @dasguccier @pradabambie @ijustwanttoreadlols @juniebugg

thanks for reading! send in requests 🌷 love you all

- angel

　　🐚　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 dark clouds ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

summary every storm reminds rafe of the worst night of his life. you’re there to help when his thoughts get too loud.

content warning mentions of parent’s death

this is a blurb in the home before dark universe, inspired by this ask!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You’ve never checked the weather forecast as much as you do now that you’re with Rafe.

Ever since the first night he stayed at your house to keep you safe from your ex, when he admitted to you how much he hated the drumming rain and rolling thunder outside, you’ve been hyperaware of every storm coming your way.

For your own heart’s sake, you try not to imagine him as a boy the night he lost his mother. But every so often, when you meet his eyes or see his smile, you can’t help but think about his lost innocence. And you’d do anything to keep him from having to think about it, too.

When a storm threatens to roll in on a Saturday night late into the summer, you ask your boyfriend if you can get off the island together, book a hotel room and experience what the mainland has to offer.

The hotel room is large, wide windows offering a view of the city skyline, a drastic change from the sleepy beach town you’re both so used to.

Rafe circles his arms around you as he stands behind you, dipping his head to press his lips against your cheek.

You notice the dark clouds settled behind the setting sun and hope he doesn’t notice them, too. You had hoped you’d be far away enough to escape the storm.

“Room service for dinner?” you offer, wondering how you can shut the blinds without rousing suspicion.

“We can go out,” he mumbles.

“I think I want to stay in,” you say.

“What?” he says. “You don’t want to go into the city?”

“No,” you say. You turn in his arms, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Let’s be lazy tonight.”

Rafe’s blue eyes glint with comfort, his lips curling into a smile. He never knew he could smile this much with somebody until you came back into his life.

“Sure,” he says.

You grin, gently tapping a finger against his dimple like you always do, and head to grab the hotel menu.

You’re seated on the bed together, down to your pajamas, eating and watching tv. You purposely turned it up loud in case the thunder starts rumbling.

Eventually, it gets late enough that you both start dozing off. You get ready for bed and turn off the tv. It allows in the sound of raindrops pelting the glass.

Only one of the nightstand lamps are still on, casting a gentle glow into the room, and you stand to pull the blinds closed. When you settle back onto the cushioned bed, you notice Rafe’s gaze on the covered window.

He looks at you, lips thinning, lying across from you.

“Is it gonna get bad?” he asks, a thin edge of anxiety in his tone. You look down, ashamed you didn’t find a place far enough to avoid the passing storm.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t hit here,” you say softly.

Rafe can tell now that this wasn’t a spontaneous date idea.

“Is that why we’re here?” he asks. You give him a sad smile, nodding, silently admitting it.

Rafe has lived through years of neglect, years of fighting for attention any and every way he knew how. But you give him care and love and consideration freely, abundantly. It never ceases to strike his heart with a heat he’s still not used to.

And beneath the ache of anticipating the storm is a sense of hope that he’ll be okay if you’re around, distracting him.

“We can turn the tv back on and I’ll talk until you fall asleep, okay?” you offer.

Rafe’s brows pinch in worry, his head sunk into the pillow. He realizes this is why you didn’t want to go out for dinner, either. You wanted to keep him inside.

His big hand drags down your arm, stopping when he reaches your hand. You watch him lift your hand, kissing your fingers, closing his eyes. He’s still getting accustomed to someone thinking about him, about the pain he carries every day.

“Okay,” he says.

You turn on the tv, the sound of informercials spilling out of the speakers, and settle across from him again.

You stroke his cheek, brushing away his hair, feeling his sun-kissed skin, as you begin to ramble about what you can do tomorrow morning when it’s nice out.

Over the sound of the tv and your voice, a loud crack of thunder booms outside. You watch him wince, his forehead crinkling, and it makes your heart twist in pain.

“It’ll pass,” you promise quietly, recalling the forecast you read on your phone before you got ready for bed. “By midnight, it’s supposed to be over. We only have an hour.”

“I always had to do this alone,” he says, voice wavering.

“You never will again, okay?” you whisper. “Turn around.”

Rafe obeys, and when he feels your body curl against his, your arm tight around his torso, your cheek pressed against his back, he’s sure he’s never felt safer during the flashbacks that storms put him through.

You continue to whisper about anything you can think of, squeezing his firm, warm body tightly.

To Rafe, it’s like he reverts to being the boy who was in the car every time the weather gets this bad, turning into a whimpering mess, but right now, that boy isn’t crying alone in the backseat. He’s being hugged. Protected.

Because that’s what you do. You keep him safe in your own way. You keep the demons at bay. The ugly memories can’t get to him when he’s being held like this.

“I promise it’ll be over soon,” you whisper to him when he starts to tremble. You can feel his heart thumping against your palm. “And we’ll fall asleep and when we wake up, it’ll be sunny. We can go on a walk. We can get something to eat. This will be in the past.”

Rafe raises your hand again to kiss your fingers, and you can feel the wetness from tears on his pillow. You squeeze against him even tighter, feeling guilty that you’re not doing a better job.

Until he speaks.

“You don’t know how glad I am to have you,” he mumbles.

You nod against him, nuzzling against his back.

“So, I’m helping?” you ask quietly. He breathes a chuckle, kissing your fingers again.

“You are,” Rafe says. “Keep talking about tomorrow.”

You do. You talk and talk and talk until he falls asleep, his grip on your hand weakening. As you shut your eyes, you swear to yourself that you won’t ever allow him to be alone when a storm like this comes in.

He protects you in so many ways, so doing this for him is the best way you can show just how much you love him. Because you truly adore him. Every single piece of him, everything that makes him him.

When Rafe wakes up the next morning, still in your arms, he realizes just how crucial you are to him. You’re not just important, but a necessity, an inevitable need. And he can only hope that you depend on him just as much.

Once you stir awake, he kisses your fingers again and again, earning the sounds of your sweet laughter, both of you looking forward to the day.

Heyyyy can you do a Hotch x reader where readers just kinda been down all day but doesn’t wanna tell Hotch because she’s kinda used to being the badass with all her walls up? And hotch kinda pulls her to the side and forces it out of her 😊😊

thank you for requesting!! fem, 1.2k

Hotch has dark hair. He’s an older guy but he’s yet to grey, hair like the strands are soaked with coal pitch, even darker under the office lights. He braces his hand on the desk and ducks toward Spencer’s computer screen, pointing at a corner with patience. 

“This one,” Hotch says. 

“Why would they organise it like this?” Spencer asks, his voice bordering incredulous. 

“I’m not sure. You’ll remember where this is?” 

“Do you usually have to tell me more than once?” Spencer says lightly. 

“Ask your licence to carry.” 

You’d laugh, his wit quick and poor Spencer a good sport, but your head feels heavy with a forming upset. Like your mind has turned to thick porridge. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but you don’t feel angry, more magnificently empty. Nothing is touching beyond your surface level. 

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer says. 

You ignore the weight of a gaze on you while you click through your emails, prioritising what needs to be answered before the end of the day, the end of the week, and the end of the month as Hotch taught you to. You double click an email chain from a consult you’d been assigned from out of state and reread your response, nervous that your lack of confidence today might have shone through blunt wording. Hotch is looped into the chain —he can correct any glaring errors should you have made them. 

“Hey,” Hotch says when you don’t look up. He doesn’t use your name, and he doesn’t need to. “I’d like to talk to you. Let’s go up to my office.” 

“Can I have a half hour to work through my emails?” you ask apologetically.

“I’d prefer we talk now. Any overdue reply can be blamed on me,” he says. 

The way he talks is natural to him but perhaps strange if it were another person, with another disposition. You know Hotch to be both gentle and stern at once. His tone leaves little room for debate, but it reassures you to hear the measured cadence of each word without rush. The openness of his expression is similarly comforting, and though he doesn’t know it —you would never own up to feeling this way, verbally or physically— you’d quite like to be comforted by him. Even if he takes you to the office to reprimand you, you’ll at least have been near him for long enough to forget your odd aching. 

Hotch doesn’t walk until you do, taking each step by side until he gets to the office, where he opens the door to encourage you in. 

You drift a few feet inward, shoes soft on clean, crisp carpeting. Hotch closes the door, where he stands momentarily, silence held.

“Everything okay?” you ask. 

Hotch pulls out one of the two black chairs in front of his desk and gestures for you to sit. “Everything’s okay,” he says, standing back to give you space to sit, his hand moving to rest on the back of the chair as you sit. It whines as you shift to see him. “With me, everything’s okay. How about you?” 

“Everything’s fine with me.” 

You’d pad your explanation out if you didn’t think he was about to tell you what you’re in the brig for. No one likes a nervous Nelly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You glance at his hand behind you and he moves it swiftly. “Hotch?” you ask tentatively. 

“I’ve noticed you aren’t yourself today.” 

“I’m completely myself.” 

“It’s not like you to stare into space.” He frowns. “I want to sit down because I don’t like towering over you, but I don’t want you to internalise this as a meeting.” 

“You’re not towering over me, Hotch.

His frown doesn’t ebb. “…We each have our own unique levy to carry the weight of, I know that. But it’s not… nice, to see you like this. I’d like to know what’s wrong.” 

Again, no nonsense and reassuring at once. 

Maybe he is towering a little. You avert your gaze from his, feeling uncharacteristically meek for a weak moment. 

“I think I woke up mixed up,” you confess eventually, picking at a stray thread on your skirt until the tips of your fingers burn. “Like, nothing happened to upset me, but I…” 

“You do feel upset.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“You’re not sure why?” 

“Not really. I think that–” You lick your lips nervously, not finding the right words, wanting to be vulnerable and simultaneously reluctant to show him anything he might not like. “I think it’s lots of smaller things and they’re layering on top of each other. Do you get that?” 

“All the time. Though usually my way of dealing with it is less pleasant for others.” He looks down at you steadily. “And yours,” —he aims enough fondness at you to stop your heart— “is self-contained. But I don't want you to think you’re walking through life unseen.” 

“Unseen,” you repeat. 

He stands very still. “Can I touch your face?” he asks quietly. 

You don’t know why he’d ask, but you say, “Yes, please.” 

“Please,” he says. You’re repeating each other. The air in the room feels thicker as he lifts his hand to your cheek and cups it gently. “When you’re upset, I notice. I can’t help but notice.” Your face lists into his palm slowly, worried he’ll move, but he holds you and he watches you with care. “Is there anything I can do to make it all feel better?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “No?” 

You close your eyes. “No,” you say, matching his volume. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry, I’m okay,” you say, asking yourself to move away from his touch, but unable to force it, “I’m gonna…” 

It’s a boundary crossed, but you and Hotch are good at that. He’s constantly treating you with more sweetness than a boss should show toward his employee, and you eat it up despite every instinct in you that says you shouldn’t. So you won’t tell him you’ve had a bad day until he asks, and even then, you have nothing permanent to offer him for fixing, and still he’ll hold your face and make it feel ordinary. Like he’s touched you a hundred times, something about it feels right, and real. Your cheek feels softer under his tracing thumb. You could fall asleep in his hands. 

“How can I make you feel better?” he asks again. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“But what can I do?” 

You want to ask for a hug, but even the idea of it is too much to think about. Miss Independent admitting she needs more than this? When it’s already more than you should have? 

Profilers profile, and somehow you give yourself away. 

“Come on,” he says softly. 

He hugs you. His hand falls from your face to your shoulder, wrapping behind it, encompassing you in a strong arm as he bends down to embrace you fully. 

“I wish you’d ask for more,” he says, his free arm slinking between your arm and side, hand to your back, encouraging you to hug him back. 

You don’t know what to do with your arms. Each movement feels stilted, but Hotch makes up for it. He hugs you without inhibition, like he’s wanted to do it for a long, long time. 

omg can I request a more timid luna lovegood reader with remus lupin?? I feel like he’s more serious, so she would compliment him well!! maybe the two of them falling asleep with one another and her dozing off while talking about bugs or something and he’s just like, wow I love her!!

“Oh,” he says quietly, more to himself than you as he pulls you to his chest, “lovely, I missed you.” 

Your pyjamas are made of a soft, thin material you favour and he can’t name. Your vest doesn’t cover much, but he’s covered you up with his arms and the blanket, and the space between you is roiling with body heat. “We were apart for twelve days.” 

“I know.” He could not be more regretful. 

“That’s almost three hundred hours without seeing one another.” 

“We spoke on the phone.” 

“It’s not the same,” you say. Remus would have to agree. 

He feels like he can sleep well for the first time in those three hundred hours, knowing you’re alright, happy, and fed within arm’s reach. He really can’t decide what he missed most, your smell, your hair, your nose as it rubs against his throat. It must’ve been this, your weight on his side, and the sound of your voice as you murmur intricacies into his skin. 

“I caught fifteen bugs while you were gone, that’s more than one every day… I kept the ladybug, but then she exploded into even more ladybugs. I noticed she laid eggs in the tank but I wasn’t expecting them to hatch so quickly… it was…” Your lips curve into a smile against his neck. “It was only a few days, baby. So many bugs.” 

“I’m sure she lived a very good life.” 

“She’s still alive, I think. I let them out into the back garden, I wasn’t expecting to be responsible for so many.” 

You fold an arm across his chest and kiss his chin, to his sleepy delight. Your presence is lulling him to sleep, once slow sentence at a time. “I’m sure she was just as happy in your tank as the outdoors, lovely,” he says. Your tank being a very large space that you customise to whatever bug you’ve found. You do your research, and you give them long, healthy lives. You’re kind, and you keep them only to watch them and love them. 

“You know ladybugs are beetles?” you whisper. 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Mm-hm,” —you kiss his chin again, soft and with warming breath— “there are five thousand different species of ladybugs. Thousand. And they’re all different colours and sizes and…” 

You rub your nose into his cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you say. 

“I missed you too. I missed your voice.” Remus rubs your back, feels your top ride up. He draws a line along your naked spine. “Tell me more about the ladybugs, please? I was almost sleeping.”

“If I tell you and you fall asleep, you won’t remember.” 

“Can you tell me again at breakfast? Would that be okay?” 

You sound pretty sleepy yourself as you answer. “Okay, I’ll tell you twice, but only because you asked me so nicely.” 

Wow, he thinks, feeling the length of your back in sluggish drags, I love her.  

You, you, you.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 10

Word count: 1.2k

Plot: After a long night, Daryl comes home and you decide he needs a little break.

Warnings: It's not smut but its implied? It's nothing explicit ig.

A/N: This is my second fic and I can not believe I'm actually doing this lmao, this is one of my favorite scenes on the show and I've always thought Daryl deserved someone who take care of him after a rough night. Thanks to my friend @weretheones for all the amazing help, I seriously couldnt have done it without u, muah!

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

The dawn was beginning to come out when the gates of Alexandria came to Daryl’s sight, it had been a long night for him, where everything that could go wrong actually did.

The walk home was silent between the archer and his best friend, the only sound intercepting the thick tension were the grunts of the hooded whisperer trying to set himself free. This would end up really bad, he could feel it in his gut. 

Daryl’s mind was spinning around what happened, trying to understand Carol’s actions. He knew she wasn't the same after what Alpha did, but after all these months he could only hope her grief was at least healing — he was clearly wrong. There was something he couldn't identify in her eyes, more than anger or revenge, something that scared him.

Gabriel saw them coming inside and hurried once he spotted their hostage.

“You put us all at risk!” he barked at Carol.

“We need to find that horde before it shows up in our gates” Carol replied.

“So you decided for all of us? Knowing what it could mean?” Gabriel angrily answered back.

“Don’t matter anymore, we still gotta fin’ them” Daryl's voice came from behind the livid father — “We will figure it out'” he stated, ending the discussion as he started to walk home, to his home. To you. 

He opened the door slowly trying to be quiet, you were probably still asleep and he would be damned if he perturbed your very needed rest.  Daryl placed his crossbow down on the table you reserved for it.  “Come on baby!” you pouted, “This way you can always know where you left it and it’s easy for you to grab it on a run! It’s a win - win, don't you think?”  Your eyes were so wide with excitement he couldn't say anything else but to peck your lips while nodding “Alrigh’” he simply answered. 

The memory made him smile, then, it hit him. That was the reason why Carol’s intentions to stir things up scared the hell out of him: he was finally happy.  After so many years of walking on eggshells just surviving, being with you gave his life meaning, and the idea of you being in danger for her impulsive actions unsettled him, he couldn’t lose you.   Daryl sighed as he began to take his vest off, a fresh pair of clothes should be enough to remove the smell and fatigue from the night before.

“Hey, you’re back” your voice broke his thoughts. Daryl turned to you and his heart jumped.  You were together for more than 6 months now and he still couldn't believe he was lucky enough to behold you like this.

“Msorry, didn't mean to wake ya, go back to sleep angel” he softly said.

You frowned, something was wrong. “What happened? Is everything ok?” you replied with a sweet tone in your voice. 

He bit his bottom lip, staring at the window. “It’s Carol, she took one of em’ here, I, huh, helped her '' he wasn't certain why, but he felt ashamed as he spoke —“We will try to make him talk”.

Your mouth formed an “O” picking up on what troubled the archer. Alpha could take retaliation if she knew what happened. Shit.

“Come on baby” you softly said, raising your hand so he could take it. “We need to get you clean first”.

You led him to the bathroom. Unsure of what was happening he followed every step you made with the feeling of thousands butterflies in his stomach. The way his old shirt embraced every one of your curves barely covering your bottom made his heart race. He never thought getting a shower could be this exciting.  Sitting on the sink, Daryl watched you unbutton his shirt very slowly, pecking at the skin revealed with every button that was undone. Soon, his broad chest was displayed and you smirked with satisfaction. Bringing your hands to his neck, you brushed his lips just a little and whispered “Let me take care of you, please”. 

Daryl trembled, he didn't feel tired anymore. 

Once you were satisfied with the temperature of the water, you took your robe off getting into the shower. Daryl couldn't help but stare as he got rid of his boxers, the sight of your naked body wasn't something he would ever get used to. 

The hot water splashed against his ached body, making him gasp with delight. You chuckled at the action “I thought you didn't like showers, huh?” you teased him.  “I like them with ya” Daryl sheepishly answered.

Your eyes traced his whole body searching for injuries that might need more than just some cleaning, to your relief, there wasn't anything new. Taking a sponge, you delicately started to wash his chest, paying extra attention to every one of his scars, caressing them gently, wishing they could disappear along with his pain, just like the soap with the water. Daryl’s eyes were glued to the action, feeling a warm sensation spreading over his broad frame, god, he loved you. 

“I know you’re worried” he looked into your eyes, listening to your words closely, “But I need you to understand, whatever happens, I’m here for you, we can always fight together”  You placed his hand on your left breast, “Do you feel it? My heart beating?” Daryl nodded, lost in the sensation of your soft skin against his rough hand. 

You kissed him deeply, wanting to make him forget about the troubles of the world he always felt the need to carry on his shoulders. “I love you Daryl” you whispered between kisses. Daryl felt like crying, he wasn't used to this kind of burning, unconditional love. “I love ya too” Daryl managed to answer, unable to concentrate in anything else but the feeling of your lips on his, you were the only thing in his mind. Every fiber of his body was consumed in you. You, You, You. 

Soon, the steam from the hot water wasn't the reason the bathroom was boiling, it was the way you both got lost into each other until you became one.

Daryl came out of the house with his hair dripping, Gabriel approached him as soon as he spotted him. 

“Did you take a shower?!” he said with a hint of surprise in his voice “I thought we were going to check on that whisperer guy?”

Daryl remained stoic to the father's questions but he felt himself blushing, just when he was about to brush him off Aaron caught up with them.

“Hey! We were looking for you!” he exclaimed, pointing at Daryl — “You showered?!” Aaron’s eyes widened with disbelief and Daryl left a frustrated grunt.

 “Can't take a damn shower or what?” Daryl growled as he walked away from the two men with a hidden grin on his face. 

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

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