#ask aaron

[astroaaron]

Favorite thing about pokeshipping?

You put them together and they're just always playing off eachother. Either he's trolling her or she's scolding him. Or they're sharing a brain cell. Or they're defending eachother from a threat. No matter what, they're always doing something to involve the other. There isn't a scene I can't think of where they aren't the other's wingman or critic.

And it's always entertaining to watch.

[ask-aaron-the-enderman]

Hi! Jester here! (It/they/he) I made a little ask blog for Aaron because I'm so normal about him.

----------

----------

[consistently-panicked]

One of my favorite things about Neil was when he was questioning his sexuality. He looked at Nicky and Matt to see if his feelings towards them had changed to try and deduce if he was gay tm. Of course, he came to the conclusion that he’s pretty exclusively attracted to Andrew, but did he ever even think to look at the identical twin of the man he had just kissed? No, why would he do that. Like hmm, I enjoyed kissing this person, does someone who looks the same give me the same feelings? Never even crossed his mind. Of course he isn’t attracted to Aaron. That’s disgusting. This petty ass man will always have my heart.

[goorgeousz]

hotchelle | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: you have a furry emergency, and it’s up to your knight in shining armor — a vest and a government gun — of a husband to save you. content/tw: this is so unserious, dog being abandoned, aaron being completely whipped for his wife, just fluff! word count: 1.8ka/n: don’t mind me, i’m just (once again) spreading the “yes ma’am” Aaron agenda. reqs are open! hope you like it 💗🪽

masterlist <3

drabbles masterlist <3

more of "yes ma’am” Aaron

Even though he spent most of his life dealing with tragedies and loss, Aaron was never ready for it. No amount of experience seemed to prepare him for the feeling of fear.

So, although he was most used to receiving bad news when his phone rang, his heart immediately gave out when he answered your call.

“Hey, hon…”

“Aaron,” your rasped voice cried, sobs cutting through you and interrupting whatever you wanted to say.

“Honey, where are you?” he urged, immediately pushing his chair back and sprinting out of his office, not even bothering to button up his suit.

You cried louder, sniffing hard and trying to get the words out.

“I– I was hi-hiking.” he tried not to rush you, instead just sprinting into Garcia’s office.

“Yeah? On your usual track?”

He opened her door without knocking, startling the blonde woman and Reid, who sat beside her probably analysing some case he had been consulting.

Sensing the urge on their boss’ face, they didn’t waste a second before turning to him and getting ready to help in any way possible.

“Y-yeah. Signal is really bad,” you managed, and the way you hiccuped trying to steady your breathing made his heart physically ache.

“I’m coming. Do we need an ambulance? Or…”

“No! No, it’s not me… Aaron, please hurry, I’m…” before you could get any word out the phone went mute, and a few seconds later trying to reconnect the call, it ended.

“Garcia, can you trace her phone?” he asked, trying to seem less desperate than he actually felt. It didn’t work.

“Of course, sir.” she answered, already midway into finding his wife’s location. In a matter of seconds, the map on the screen’s computer glowed with a red pin, and a banner with her exact coordinates popped up. “Here, just sent it to your phone.”

He thanked her before turning around, Reid barely catching up with his pace. “I’ll come with you, sir.” to which he just nodded. He didn’t actually agree to it, neither seemed particularly happy about it, but he didn’t say no and the look on his face showed there wasn’t much on his mind except for the urge to find you.

Luckily it wasn’t rush hour, so they didn’t end up getting any speed tickets – the fact that he turned on the sirens at points where the traffic was a little heavier had nothing to do with it, trust –, and as soon as they got near the point Garcia instructed, they spotted her.

Sat on the ground on the side of the road, slightly off the tracking path, his wife’s baby pink clothes stood out on the grass as if she was a waking highlight. Hotch didn’t waste any time on parallel parking, throwing the car on park as soon all four tires stepped off the highway, and stepping out of it in a second, reaching for his gun, with Spencer mimicking his moves.

“Honey, we’re here.” he said loudly, trying to ease her shaking figure before he even got to her. She wiped her head back, and even though her face was red, puffy and drenched in tears, her eyes sparkled with recognition and relief, like she felt that everything was going to be okay: Aaron was there! The feeling almost made him combust.

“Aaron,” your voice whined, and then you started crying again, louder this time, relieved to not be alone anymore. Quickly scanning the area and guaranteeing there weren't any threats nearby, the two – guns still in hand – agents stepped close to her, still sitting on the floor.

As soon as they reach her, standing on each of her sides, they stop for a second. Aaron physically had to restrain himself from sighing loudly because you were about to have a stroke due to how hard you were crying, while Spencer had to bite the inside of his cheeks until blood was drawn out to stop himself from laughing.

Just in front of you, laid on the dirty floor was a puppy, it’s furr so dirty you could barely see it’s color. The dog showed no signs of being awake, and Aaron felt a little sting with the realization. The dog was dead. He just wished you’d told him sooner.

“I don’t know if she’s dead.” you managed between sobs, catching your husband’s glance “I saw a box on the hike with a note saying the family’s dog birthed her, they were moving across the country and couldn’t bring the puppy with them. She’s the only puppy who made it alive. I think she escaped of the box, trying to find someone. That’s how she got here.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Reid, tell Garcia we’re fine.” he demanded, sending his agent a pointed look at his amused expression. Spencer nodded, stepping back for a second to text his friend, taking the opportunity to silently laugh.

Then, he put away the gun, kneeling down beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and looking at the animal. You took it as a sign, and buried your face into your husband’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. His heart nearly gave out at how heartbroken you were, and all annoyance disappeared on his body just like that.

“Oh, Aaron, I’m sorry. I know you were busy. But… I just needed you, and I…”

“Shh, it’s okay. There’s no problem, at all.” he coached you, fully sitting down beside you and taking you fully in his arms. He meant it: emergency or not, there’s nowhere he would rather be than by your side to stroke your hair and kiss your forehead until you stopped crying.

“Can I see her?” Reid asked politely, crouching down beside you and curiously staring at the puppy. He, surprisingly, touched the dog without any gloves on, not waiting for an answer to actually start checking. Only a couple minutes had passed when he stood up “She’s alive, but barely. We should get her to a vet now.”

You nodd, sniffing and quickly coming to a standing position, the urge to help temporarily occupying your mind enough for you to stop crying, taking off your defined jacket and turning into a makeshift blanket, and wrapping around the puppy carefully.

The ride for the vet was quick, with Reid sharing his thoughts – even though his knowledge concerning puppies was rather short – and Hotch, once again, barely missing speed tickets.

“Reid, take the car back.” he sighed, handing the agent his keys. Spencer, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last minutes, stifled a laugh “I’ll stay here with her”.

When Hotch caught up with you, you were already at the reception of the vet ER – yes, they had those –, bawling your eyes out. One of the vets took the dog off your arms, handing your jacket back. You strode beside the team, giving them all the information you had so far.

“I think she spent the night. Her box was still wet, and it rained last night. Is she going to be okay?” you urged, eyes widening at the vet’s expression.

“Miss, you’ll have to wait outside okay? Thank you for your help.” he said, and they closed themselves into a consulting room, leaving you stuck on your feet.

Hotch touched your back, the feeling of his finger on your skin waking you from your trance. You turned abruptly to face him, and a kick on his gut would’ve hurt less – which he knew for a fact – than the sigh of your lower lip trembling, your eyes widened and red, filled with tears “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” he managed, and he hated how powerless he felt. So he just tugged you closer, hugging you closely and letting you cry.

“How can someone do that?” you said, angrily. Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his suit.

“I know, right? But she’s strong. Did you see how she lasted the whole night out there and still made it? She will be just fine.”

That made you step back, your eyes a little more hopeful as you looked at him. He loved that you believed him so much, and even though he had no way of knowing how this would turn out, he knew there was only one thing he could do.

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely.” he said, and that made a little smile tug at your lips. “Come on, let’s sit while we wait, huh?”

A couple hours had passed, with you pressed close to Hotch’s side, occasionally moving to play with a dog and hear other people’s stories. When you finally stopped crying, he stood and left a kiss on your forehead, leaving to get some food. Because you expected to be home way sooner, you haven’t eaten, and he was sure that if you didn’t get anything on your system, his next stop would be the actual ER, since you’ve probably cried out all 70% of the water on your system.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When he came back, two bags of lunch from the diner across the street, water and orange juice enough for the whole vet crew, he was surprised to see you surrounded with people. The other dog owners sat around you in the waiting room, listening closely to the story about how you found the puppy. You could be telling a fairy tale, the way their eyes shone with interest, gasping and cooing as on command. 

But what caught Hotch’s attention the most was the way the guy next to you – who definitely wasn’t there before he left – touched your bare knee with sympathetic – and honestly hungry – eyes. “You’re so brave and kind,...” the bastard said.

“And married.” he stepped closely, eyeing the man down with his stare reserved solely to the unsubs and particularly unpleasant officers he used to deal with.

“Oh, Aaron, you’re back!” you turned to face him, face glowing with that adorable smile of yours, looking at him with so much love that his scowl instantly melted. He barely noticed the guy standing up awkwardly and finding another sit all the way across the waiting room.

You ate together, with your husband making sure you drank enough fluids for a week, his attentive gaze not leaving your figure until there was nothing left on the paper bags but crumbs. As you were negotiating a sweet treat, a woman with a clipboard and a paw-patterned scrub emerged from the back of the ER seccion “Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner?”

Any thoughts about cookies or brownies being indispensable to raise your sugar levels vanished immediately as you rose to your feet in a speed that left Aaron’s spine jealous, and the two of you followed her closely, your husband’s hand rested on your lower back, now covered with the fabric of his suit – since you decided that the jacket you used to wrap the dirty dog in was now your own personal blankie – tracing patterns as you walked to the room.

When you finally got there, the little puppy was finally awake. Still completely dirty and somehow smaller than she looked when you found her, but fully alert “Hey, you pretty little girl. Oh, look, Aaron. Her eyes are just like yours.” you cooed, and this time he couldn’t control the roll of his eyes. He knew what you were doing. Trying to cute-guilt him into taking the damn dog. So what if the color of the puppy’s eyes was the exact shade of brown of his own? If Reid was there – and he made a mental note to call him later to check the information – he would agree that probably over 70% of the people on earth have brown eyes. Following that logic, the dog has the same eyes as 70% of the world’s population. Somehow that thought didn’t sit right with him, though.

“Is the dog okay?” he asked the vet, just wanting to get this over with. The woman nodded, her knowing smile too suspicious for his liking.

“She’s perfectly fine. She was a bit dehydrated, but I guess her previous owners left her with a little bit of food. We just took a few tests, but everything is normal. Her blood test results will take a few days, though.”

“But do you think she will be fine? Like, on the tests?” you asked, stroking the back of the dog’s ears with your fingers.

“Absolutely. But that’s all thanks to you. If you hadn't found her, I don’t think she would’ve made it.” 

You turn to Hotch with a little pout and tears in your eyes – of happiness this time, thankfully – and just like that you won another piece of his heart. But he keept it to himself, just raising his eyebrows at you, unbothered.

“We’ll just examine her now. Routine things. When the blood test comes out we’ll see for sure what vaccines she already has, but she’s 10 weeks old, so probably a few.” the vet explains while reaching the puppies belly with a stethoscope to check her heartbeat. “All good. She’s strong as a rock.” the woman keeps explaining each step of the examination, and at every new information you turn to look at Hotch, your eyes glowing with affection. The puppy, as if it senses your little show and wants to back you up, just behaves, her tail wagging everytime you or the vet talk to her with that high pitch voice, her big brown eyes staring at both of you as if you are her whole world. And he so stubbornly pretends he’s not melting as much as you.

“Now, we’ll take her temperature. This is the worst part of the exam, but just because it’s a bit uncomfortable.”

“She’s shaking, do you think she has a fever?” you ask, the worry on your tone not going unnoticed.

“Probably just fear. I don’t think she has a fever, but we’ll only know for sure by taking the temperature. Do any of you want to hold her or do you want me to call someone?” she asks, eyeing the two of you expectantly. Obviously, you dismiss the later option, moving your hands closer to the puppy. As the vet leans forward with the thermometer in hand, the dog does the unthinkable.

Awkwardly and clumsy running away from your and the vet’s reach, she goes into Hotch’s direction, and he has to step forward and grab her to prevent her from falling out of the table “Are you crazy?” he asks, not even realizing he was talking to the dog, staring annoyed at her. When he tries to place her back on the table, she whines, pressing her little paws higher on his arms, and he has to juggle her back safely to keep her from falling again “Jesus Christ, okay. I’ve got you.”

Aaron misses the way you and the vet eye each other in conspiracy, too busy making sure she’s comfortably nested on his arms “Oh, look. She stopped shaking. Hold her tight so I can check her temperature, will you?” the vet says, stepping closer and – as he will later describe – shoving the thermometer up on the puppy’s ass – which was actually very gentle and professional, but scared him anyway. “Oh, look at that. Not a fever. Your baby is perfectly healthy. Oh, wait.” the vet stops on her tracks, glancing back and forth between you and Hotch and asks the oh, so feared question “You are going to keep her?”

In an oscar-worth performance, you wiped your head to face him, pressing your hands, half-covered by the sleeves of his suit, on his bicep – carefully not to disturb the baby resting on his arms –, batting your eyelashes at him and staring with your eyes slightly opened, in those lost puppy eyes you mastered so well.

“Can we keep her? Please!” he sighed, not even daring to avert his eyes down to the dog he held, knowing damn well it would be a lost battle for him.

“Listen, I…” you interrupted, pointing at the small figure on his arms, forcing him to look at it.

“She’s already attached, baby. We can even name her after you!” you offered, your face deep in thought as you stared at the puppy’s eyes, as if trying to read its mind “Hotchelle!”

Aaron scrunched his nose, averting his torso to the side, as if putting some distance between you and the puppy would protect her from the name you’ve chosen.

“We’re not naming her Hotchelle.”

You crossed your arms, arching your brows “What are we naming her, then?” he then looked at the dog, still too dirty for either of you to see her real color.

“Maybe after we get her cleaned we can…”

Realization washed over him.

You stood there, the image of innocence, your eyes mischievous and expectant. If it weren’t the slight twitch at the corner of your lips, one could think you didn’t already know you had him wrapped around your finger.

So, he just sighed, looking briefly at the – his – puppy, and he could swear she had the same smug expression as yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After a well deserved shower gifted by the clinic – and many dollars spent at the pet shop wing at the clinic while you waited – the two – three – of you walked out together. You, holding some of the purchase’s bag, still wearing his suit jacket. Aaron, holding a freshly showered Hotchelle, wrapped around her brand new fluffy pink blanket, wearing two matching bows like a doll – while shopping you asked him if he thought Hotchelle was ‘more of a bow or pompom kinda girl’, to which he huffed an annoyed ‘bow, obviously’ – and the scowl he usually had on was much less prominent.

As soon as you stepped out of the clinic, the sun having already set, a flashlight temporarily blinded you. Blinking in surprise, your sight started to clear. It was a picture. And you couldn’t stop your laughter when you saw all the members of the BAU standing in the parking lot, matching amused smiles watching Aaron.

“We came to drop your car off.” Emily explained, her own laughter barely stiffed. Hotch sighed loudly.

“Thanks.” he muttered between gritted teeth “You can all go now.”

“Hm, I don’t think so, Hotch.” Rossi managed “We all want to meet the new addition to the family. We were kept in suspense since Reid told us what happened” Spencer had the decency to seem embarrassed, scratching the back of his head and blushing under Aaron’s disapproval stare.

Having restrained herself for long enough for the sake of the joke, Penelope threw herself in front of her boss, asking for you the whole rescue story. While at it, you catched the way Hotch stiffened his arms whenever Garcia tried to pry the baby to her own arms. Mercesly, you kept it to yourself.

“She’s still very young. 10 weeks.” he stated, glancing at Reid.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer started, stepping closer with the other members, all cooing at how cute she looked. Specially contrasted with Aaron's broad figure – that earned Morgan another pack of photos, which you eagerly asked, for…. scientific purposes. “I did some research, and it turned out this specific breed is extremely affectionate due to….”

“Wait. Before we start the lecture” JJ pried, looking at Spencer apologetically “What’s her name?”

The tip of Hotch’s ears turned bright red, and the team glanced at each other. Sensing that your husband wasn’t going to answer, you stepped in, a bright smile in response “We named her after Aaron. Since she’s a daddy’s girl. Just like her mommy.” you winked at him, making him cringe. If both of his arms weren’t already busy, you were sure he would’ve been pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Don’t… say this…” he pleaded weakly.

“It can’t be that bad.” Morgan tried, his grin suggesting he thought otherwise.

“Hotchelle.” your husband said under his breath, earning many loud reactions in return. He just turned on his heel, getting the car keys from Emily’s hand and looking back at you “We're leaving.”

You were almost skipping on your way to his car, nestling the dog in your arms and showing her to the team like a trophy, who stood back laughing. Before getting into the driver’s seat, Aaron glanced back at them.

“Reid.” he commanded, his voice strong and stern like a thunder. Even from the distance, you could see Spencer gulping, bracing himself for the scold he was about to get. In a much lighter tone and with a smirk — he always had fun scaring his teammates — he said “I want to hear about your research tomorrow.”

taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream

[batovskaa]

OKAY SO HERE ARE RANDOM HAMILTON THE MUSICAL FACTS NO ONE ASKED FOR

• After Maria mentions she is "helpless" in Say No To This, Eliza doesn't mention it for the rest of the play

• In That Would Be Enough, Eliza says: "I wrote to the general a month ago". In Stay Alive we can see her writing the letter

• In Take A Break, when Angelica and Eliza reunite and say each other's names there is a slight pause for "and Peggy"

• In Stay Alive (reprise), Phillip says to Eliza "Mom, I'm sorry for forgetting what you taught me" because Eliza taught him how to count to 10 in Take A Break and he thought that mr. Eaker counted to 10 even though he didn't

• Phillip had trouble with number 7 in Take A Break, got shot at number 7 and died at Sept-7 (guess it wasn't exactly his lucky number)

• Burr always repeats that he's willing to wait for it and Alexander always repeats that he's not throwing away his shot, but in The World Was Wide Enough, Burr doesn't wait for it and shoots Alexander and Alexander throws away his shot by aiming his pistol at the sky

• In Hurricane, Alexander says: "I couldn't seem to die" and the backing vocals/ensemble say: "Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it.." because Burr is going to shoot him in 9 songs

• If we count all of the songs in Hamilton + Lauren's interlude, there is exactly 47 songs. 47 is also the age Alexander Hamilton died at

• In Best Of Wives And Best Of Women both Alexander and Eliza say exactly 37 words, which is also how many songs they were married for in the musical

• In Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story when Eliza says: "I speak out against slavery," Washington makes a surprised face behind her because he owned around 120 slaves

• In What'd I miss when Jefferson gets the letter from Washington he says: "Sally, be a lamb, darlin' won't you open it," reffering to a slave of his

[omgkatherine01]

i neeeed a kraven smut where he’s warning the reader they can’t have sex because he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll hurt her. the reader is really submissive and innocent but he keeps smelling and sensing how turned on she is, the tension is too high and he gives in and they have really rough sex. i mean like him choking her, pinning her down, and maybe biting her. after he feels really bad for how rough he was, but he couldn’t help himself because it was all instincts from his animalistic side. i cannot stop thinking about it.

Kraven's Temptation

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!, little bit of blood

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei's eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as he growled, "We can't do this. I won't be able to control myself... I'll hurt you."

You trembled, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your body. "I--I trust you," you whispered, your innocence only heightening his primal urges.

He inhaled sharply, catching your scent. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his control slipping.

Unable to resist any longer, Sergei pounced, pinning you beneath him. His strong hands gripped your wrists as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You gasped as he bit your lower lip, drawing blood.

Sergei's grip tightened as he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You whimpered, both from pain and pleasure, as he bit down on your sensitive skin. His powerful body pressed you into the mattress, leaving you breathless.

"Mine," he growled possessively, one hand moving to encircle your throat. He applied just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as he roughly entered you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Sergei set a punishing pace, driven by pure animal instinct. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he took you relentlessly. You surrendered completely to his domination, lost in a haze of pain and ecstasy.

As the intensity built, Sergei's grip on your throat tightened. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he pounded into you mercilessly. Just when you thought you might pass out, he released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. The rush of oxygen heightened every sensation.

"That's it, take all of me," he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

You cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Sergei growled in approval, angling his hips to strike it again and again. The coil of pleasure inside you wound impossibly tight.

"Sergei, please!" you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Come for me," he commanded.

With a strangled cry, you obeyed. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as your body convulsed beneath him. Sergei groaned deeply, your release triggering his own. He thrust into you a final time, holding you tightly as he spilled himself inside you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing. As the haze of passion faded, Sergei's eyes widened in horror at the marks covering your body. Bruises were already forming on your wrists and hips, and angry red bite marks dotted your neck and shoulders.

"Oh god," he choked out, scrambling off of you. "I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't control myself. I told you I would hurt you."

You winced slightly as you sat up, your body aching pleasantly. "Sergei, it's okay," you said softly, reaching for him. "I wanted it. All of it."

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. "No, it's not okay. I... I'm a monster. I should never have let this happen."

You reached out to gently touch Sergei's arm. "You're not a monster," you said softly. "Please don't say that."

He flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "Look at what I've done to you," he said hoarsely. "I could have seriously hurt you. I did hurt you."

"But you didn't seriously hurt me," you insisted. "I'm okay, Sergei. More than okay."

He finally met your gaze, searching your face. "How can you say that? After what I just did..."

You took his hand, placing it over your heart. "Feel that? My heart is racing, but not from fear. I've never felt more alive." You leaned in closer. "Or more wanted."

Sergei's expression softened slightly. "You truly aren't afraid of me?"

"Never," you breathed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were made of glass. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into your hair.

You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cherished. "Let me be the judge of that."

Sergei's arms tightened around you, his body still tense with lingering guilt. You nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his musky scent.

"I meant what I said," you murmured. "I trust you completely."

He sighed, running his fingers gently through your hair. "Your trust in me is misplaced. I lost control. My instincts took over and I..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

You tilted your head up to meet his troubled gaze. "And you gave me exactly what I needed," you said softly. "What we both needed."

Sergei's brow furrowed. "How can you say that? I was far too rough. I could have seriously harmed you."

"But you didn't," you insisted. "You pushed me to my limits, yes. But you didn't go beyond them." You traced your fingers along his stubbled jaw. "That's the difference between you and a true monster, Sergei. Even in the throes of passion, some part of you was still aware. Still in control."

He caught your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

You shifted in his arms, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested. Sergei immediately loosened his hold, concern etched on his features.

"See?" you said with a soft smile. "You're still being gentle with me now. Your instincts aren't solely about violence or domination."

Sergei's expression remained troubled, but some of the tension left his body. He carefully traced the marks he'd left on your skin, his touch feather-light.

"I never want to hurt you," he murmured.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "Then don't push me away," you said. "That's the only thing that could truly hurt me."

Sergei's eyes softened as he gazed at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. "You were simply yourself," you replied. "That's all I ever wanted."

As Sergei held you close, his guilt began to fade. In its place, a fierce protectiveness took root. He may not fully trust himself, but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe - even from his own darker nature.

[softtdaisy]

hotch in first episode of each season

[doesephs]

everything in its right place? yeah i sure hope so doctor aaron minyard

[minswriting]

How criminal minds characters would react to you, their partner, calling them daddy or mommy?

nsfw | mdni | daddy/mommy kink | only for the characters i write for plus rossi because i need to feed the peepaw agenda

aaron - he has such a daddy kink. he thrives with it. the first time you ever call him daddy, he goes with it immediately. “yeah? daddy’s got you. let daddy take care of you, hmm?” while he’s fucking you so good.

rossi - rossi would chuckle and go “say that again. i like how it sounds coming from that pretty mouth.” and then when you do, he’s cumming very fast because how could he not.

derek - this man doesn’t have a daddy kink. he would go “daddy?” while smirking and quirking his eyebrow. “i don’t think so sweetheart,” before continuing what you were doing.

luke - massive daddy kink!! you’d call him daddy in bed and you’ve got luke groaning as his thrusts get sloppier as he chases his orgasm. “fuck, baby, you make daddy feel so good,” he’d grunt.

jj - jj does not have a mommy kink at all. if you called her mommy while she’s going down on you, she’d stop, pull away slightly to look at you, and say “let’s not call me what my kids call me,” before diving right back in lol.

emily - HOWEVER if you call emily mommy, she’s into it. she’s so into it. in fact she’s so into it that you could also probably call her daddy too lmao. “mommy?” she’d smirk as she’s fingering you. “mommy’s got you, baby. let mommy take care of you,” and she’s cooing, eliciting many different noises from you.

spencer - spencer, regardless of the era, does NOT have a daddy kink at all. you’d call him daddy and spencer would stop thrusting his hips to look at you before the both of you burst out into laughter because he felt so wrong to call him daddy. “daddy? please don’t call me that,” he’d exclaim. “maybe sir but not daddy.”

[xieliancore]

PSU Foxes

[odetojupiter]

andreil are perfect for each other bc neil thinks he’s mysterious but gives so much away whilst andrew thinks he’s being straight forward but is actually being mysterious

neil’s out here giving andrew all his secrets whilst thinking ‘no one can know’, and andrew’s out here going ‘everyone should know this already’ but actually no one figured it out.

[astroaaron]

If you could choose one ship from any fandom to become canon, what would it be?

I think if these two hooked up in season 1, with no love square crap, it would've helped the show. The absolute worst thing about LOK was the romance because the love square just dragged shit out. If the only drama was a quick conversation between Korra & Mako with Mako being like 'do you actually like my bro?', I could stomach it.

Bolin gets more of a spine/confident hanging out with the badass Korra who doesn't mice her opinion. Korra gets a good looking dork to play off her antics but can still be a voice of reason when she's acting out of pocket.

So yeah, its more of a ship to fix the writing. Which is why i'm picking it over other ships I like. But still, I like the himbo x tomboy pairing.

Thank You For The Ask.

[falafels]

pt.75!! <pt.74 pt.76>

i recommend shower mango to everyone ever. ESPECIALLY if drunk

tags for the homies ❤️ @andrewsleftarmband @blurryhour @you-know-i-get-itt @notexactlythatgirl @longspacerat @tessasilverswan @minyard-05 @carbon-dated-gal @bisexualchaosdemon @stormiiflies @watercoloureyes01 @vampire-overlord @iron-sides @azure-wing @buffalo-fox @ohgodnotagainplease @pink-hydrangea @jaywalkerss @ohmynoggin-blog @cosmic-marauder @min-getoutofmy-yard @plazybones @disastersappho @leestars13 @the-witch-forever-lives @minyardsss @post-historical-posts @andabuttonnose @hidinginmyhands @aftg4l @allfor-thegames @yaoishida @inafieldofstarflowers @snowcoming @mooniism @fieldsofpoppies-in-salt-air @prometheusthedragon @graveyardviolence @bustedleftshoe @beatrix33 @aftg-bs @yes-i-exist-shutup @milktemproom @all-for-exy @moon-over-ruined-castle @meta-breakers @oneandonlystarshine @dragonslayer26806 @malepresentingleg @lesbiansforkevinday

[honeypiehotchner]

Like A Goddamn Vampire (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Is this considered crack fic? It also has smut so (inspired by this chaos I caused that @ssamorganhotchner then added to with the pictures of Hotch's neck...I regret nothing)

Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, established relationship, THAT DAMN POLO, neck biting, hickeys???, kind of sub!hotch, making out, grinding, i clearly have a thing for making him cum in his pants, y'all idk what this is don't look at me

WC: 1.5k short n spicy

You’re not a vampire. You swear.

You don’t have a good reason for why you want to bite your boyfriend, other than the fact that he looks delicious. Especially while driving.

“Why are you staring at my neck?”

“I’m not,” your reply comes quickly and gives you away entirely. This is what you get for dating an FBI profiler, the Unit Chief of them, no less.

Aaron smirks. “You were.” He pauses. “Are.”

Your eyes flick back to meet his. You hadn’t even realized your eyes had fallen down to his neck again. You look away from him, focusing instead on the passing scenery. “Lovely weather today.”

Aaron laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to rest it on your thigh. You nearly bite your own fist to keep yourself together.

“Honey,” he says, squeezing your leg. “I don’t mind.”

Your head turns toward him, curious. “Don’t mind what?”

“You staring at me.”

“Okay,” you say, your eyes falling down to his neck and collarbones again.

“Is there something on my neck?”

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head as if shaking yourself out of a trance. “No. No, I’m just--” You look ahead at the road, trying to figure out how to word this in the least embarrassing way. “I’m just. Looking.”

“At my neck.”

“What do you want me to say?” you cry, almost certain at this point that he’s teasing you. Or worse, mocking you, but you doubt it’s that. It’s almost certainly his little game of teasing you around the point until you land square on it.

The truth is, he’s always in a suit. Yes, when he stays at your place or you at his, he’ll wear a t-shirt and get comfortable. But it’s been so long -- maybe two weeks -- because both of your work schedules have gone awry, and you’re having withdrawals. Maybe that’s the explanation. It’s been almost two weeks of not seeing your boyfriend naked, and you’re losing it.

The two of you are on your way to lunch on your first joint day off in two weeks and he’s wearing a fucking polo shirt with the buttons undone and you’re losing it.

“I’m just wondering what has you in such a daze over there,” he asks, tone veering toward gentleness. “Are you okay?”

Dear god, now he thinks you’re upset and spacing out instead of horny and wanting to bite him.

“I’m fine,” you squeak out when his thumb starts stroking your inner thigh. You turn to look at him, using a surprising amount of willpower to look at only his face. “I’m great.”

He glances at you briefly, smiling. “Good.”

Good. Great. Wonderful, even.

You make it through lunch, able to focus on everything except Aaron’s neck. Your food is delicious, the weather is genuinely great, and you love to people watch.

Aaron loves to people watch, too. Except this afternoon, he seems keen to only watch you.

You squirm in your seat when you catch him staring at you again. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “You’re just beautiful.”

“Oh,” you smile, staring down at your food. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You look up, keeping the smile, and managing to only glance at his neck for a second. You nod. “I’m okay. I think I was just hungry.”

Aaron doesn’t seem convinced at all. He’s seen you when you’re hungry, and you’re not usually staring at his neck for minutes on end. He lets it go, though.

Until he catches you staring at his neck again, later that night, when you’re both sitting on his couch, trying to watch a movie while you wait for the oven to preheat for dinner.

Aaron pauses the movie and you don’t even notice until he’s turning to face you on the couch, taking both of your hands in his.

“Why’d you pause it?” you ask, glancing between the TV and Aaron’s neck-- his face.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, starting to genuinely sound worried. “You’re spacing out a lot today.”

“No,” you shake your head, an embarrassed smile crawling up your neck. “No, it’s not that--”

“What is it?” he’s almost pleading, moving his head so he can meet your eyes because you won’t look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“You’re too hot!” you blurt, and then immediately groan, grabbing a nearby pillow to bury your face in it.

And Aaron is laughing.

“Can you actually just take me home?” you say, muffled from the pillow. “So I can spare myself the embarrassment. Yes I’m taking the pillow with me.”

“Honey…” Aaron reaches for your waist, pulling you toward him, so much so that you are pulled into his lap.

You keep the pillow in front of your face, though you’re starting to giggle now. Even as Aaron tugs it down gently, peeking at you over the top of it.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold, feigning annoyance with a furrow to your brows that Aaron just thinks is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” he swears. “I’m not. Can I put the pillow down?”

“Fine,” you murmur, letting him toss it away. You rest your hands on his shoulders, thumbs dangerously close to the collar of his polo shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, hands finding your hips. “Is that all?”

“It’s been so long,” you sigh. “And I hadn’t seen you like this in a while.”

Now he’s confused. “Like what?”

“Not in a suit,” you muse, your eyes falling to his neck again. “I like your neck.”

You can see him holding back a laugh. 

You glare at him playfully. “I said don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he promises, starting to smile. “You’re just cute.”

“Cute?”

“You just said you like my neck.”

“And?”

“That’s adorable.”

“Is it cute that I want to bite it?”

The confession falls from your lips before you can stop it. You’ve never understood how someone’s eyes can darken, but you see it now, in Aaron’s. The way his pupils dilate. His hands adjust on your hips, pulling you against him. 

“You can,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“I can what?” you ask, though you know exactly what he means.

“Bite me.”

You blame how fast you move on the fact that it has been two weeks. That’s the only explanation for the way your body reacts, instantly surging forward to kiss and suck at his neck, and to finally bite.

Aaron pulls you up for a kiss after just a few seconds, and you try not to whine into his mouth.

“You’re insatiable,” he says against your lips.

“It’s been two weeks,” you argue, gasping when he nips at your bottom lip.

He smiles against your mouth. “Did you leave a mark?”

“On your neck?” He nods. “Do you want me to?” He nods again.

You grin this time as you lean in, returning to your favorite place. You kiss and lick to your heart’s content, eventually settling on the spot right behind his ear. It’s just inconspicuous enough for you to leave the tiniest of love bites there, sitting back after a moment to admire your work. The skin is red where the bruise is beginning to form, and you thumb over it.

Aaron, meanwhile, is staring at you with a heat you’ve never seen in his eyes before, his chest heaving. And when his hands tighten their grip on you, you feel just how hard he is underneath you.

When you go to circle your hips, he stops you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” you inquire, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his lips. “All I did was bite your neck and you’re right on the edge, aren’t you?”

Aaron damn near whimpers against your mouth. “Maybe.”

“Do you think you could cum just from this?” you murmur, pressing your hips down and smirking when he doesn’t stop you. His fingers go slack against your hips, clearly using all of his energy to keep his orgasm at bay. “Do you want to try?”

He nods again and you capture his lips with yours, spreading your legs even wider to grind your core directly on him. The seam of your jeans gives just enough delicious friction to make you feel good, but you know you won’t climax from this. Aaron, however, only gets louder as he tries to keep himself together.s

“Come on,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the other side of his neck. “Let go.” You sink your teeth into his neck just barely, right over his jugular vein, and you can feel him twitch even through the layers of clothes. He’s shuddering through it, his hands bolted to your hips and grinding you right where he needs you. It’s intoxicating.

You press one more loving kiss to his neck before lifting your head, then kissing his lips while his eyes remain closed. He opens them when you pull away, that fire still brewing.

“And here I was embarrassed to tell you that I had been staring at your neck all day because I wanted to bite it.”

“You can always bite me,” he says, pulling your face down for another kiss. “I’m about to devour you.”

[goorgeousz]

hi hi hi♥️

it's me again, i have a new idea and it's that last night i was watching again the episode where the girl accuses Jack's teacher of liking Hotch, i think it's episode 9x22🫣

you can write the scene but where the reader and Hotch are together but maybe the boys don't know and when the girl says ' likes Jack's dad' the reader is just like '🤨' a little jealous and that leads to them calling each other 'mine' publicly maybe Jack my beautiful innocent boy exposes them with a witty comment🤓☝🏻

tbh, i had this idea more developed but i didn't know how to interpret it in words,anyway, you can ignore it if you want, i'm sending you love!♥️♥️

xoxoxo

ms. springs | aaron hotchner

ms. springs | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader

summary: when yet another woman becomes interested in hotch, you start to rethink your decision of keeping your relationship a secret. jack solves your dilemma in a second. 

content/tw: secret established relationship, pure fluff with a little spice, jack being adorable, the team being insufferable and supportive, hotch being a tease, jack refers to reader as ‘her’. i think that’s about it!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: heyyyyyy, my love!!!! I was so happy to see you again on my requests, I’m absolutely in love with your mind!! I loved your idea and you do such a good job in describing it, I instantly picture the story in my mind. I’m sorry it took me a long time to post this, I was drowning in WIPs but as soon as I could, I immediately started this one! it was delicious and so fun to write, it turned out longer than I expected… either way, I really hope you like it! Thank you for being so kind and for sending the request, sending much much love!!!!!!!!!

dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist <3

“Yeah. You like Jack’s dad.”  the little girl said, smiling proudly. Your ears perked up at that, like a dog hearing its favorite words.

The other kids had already left, led by Garcia. Aside from this little girl, Jack and their teacher, only you, Hotch and Rossi were at the briefing room.

You and Rossi exchanged a surprised look, trying to hold back a laugh.

Hotch’s eyes widened a bit, and he looked at them with a tight smile, his lips pressed together like he had no idea on what to do, one hand rested on his son’s shoulder and the other shoved deep in his pocket – he had no business looking that good. IJack looked at his teacher unamused, his eyes scanning all the adults in the room. You would find the situation funny – it truly was – if it weren’t for that tingly little ugly feeling on your chest, stealing your words.

Since you had no idea what to do with your hands, you started to collect some of the materials, unable to watch the scene with a steady face like Rossi did.

“I’m not sure…” the woman chuckled, trying to turn the situation around, but the girl wasn’t having any of it.

“When you talk about your cat…” she started, cutting her teacher’s words short, proudly showing off her profiling skills “...you talk real, real fast ‘cause you really like your cat. You talked real fast today, not like with the other dads.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to draw attention. Hotch was a mix of shyness, amusement and confusion, politely holding back a smile. The woman glanced back at him, her eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and embarrassment, her blushed cheeks giving her out – if her student hadn’t already.

“Thanks again, Mr. Hotchner.” she said quickly. Just like the little girl said – that stubborn little voice in your head pointed. “The kids had a great time.”

“You’re welcome.” Hotch mumbled, his eyes dropping on the floor and his cheeks just as red as hers. You squeezed your eyes at the scene.

Ms. Springer hushed out the door right after, guiding the girl with her, her heels clicking so fast against the floor you were surprised she didn’t stumble.

Rossi waited less than two seconds after they left the room to sigh loudly, moving from his statue position to look at you and Hotch amused – here we go.

“Probably had to go feed the cat.” he said, ironically. You huffed out a laugh, changing a fist bump with him before he left the room too. Hotch didn’t answer, only smiling back at both of you before dropping on his knees to talk to Jack. You finished tidying up the briefing room and let them talk, something about hot dogs and hamburgers �� nothing about Ms Springer and her crush.

“Why don’t you go find Morgan, huh? I have some things left to finish, but you can invite them all to dinner later.” he celebrated, running out of the room, leaving only you and Hotch behind.

You pretend not to notice him approaching you from behind, proudly sticking up your chin while you organize the (already tidily organized) shelves.

“Hey.” he starts, his hands finding their way to your shoulders. Your body immediately relaxes under his touch – traitor –, not even worrying if people might walk in.

The two of you had been in a serious relationship for the past few months now, but kept it a secret. At least at work, no one on the team knew yet. At first,you just wanted to test out the waters before you let everyone know, but when the time came, you just kept pushing back. 

It was just too comfortable to keep it a secret. Holding hands when no one could see it, stealing kisses behind closed doors, hidden visits to each other's hotel room during cases (until Emily almost caught you because of a lost sock), pretending to arrive at the same time when you quite literally woke up next to him… Your relationship was a little bit of sunshine in the middle of all the storm of the job. You wanted the team to know, they were your friends, your family. But it was so difficult to pop that little bubble of happiness you two fought so hard to create, that it just had to wait a little while longer.

And it was a joint decision, you both wanted this. To keep the secret. It was easier, fun and delicious.

Until things like that happened.

You weren’t a blind trust kind of person, but you hadn’t a single doubt that Hotch loved you, just like you loved him. You respected and trusted each other in more ways than one, so that sick feeling on the pit of your stomach had absolutely nothing to do with him getting with Jack’s teacher. But the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

Aaron Hotchner was an attractive man. That wasn’t an opinion, it was a fact. Being around him as much as you did (being his coworker and his girlfriend) got you used to watching women of all kinds of ages try and get their way with him. Family of victims, paramedics, officers, firefighters, witnesses, non-witnesses, people who pretended to be witnesses just to be questioned by him. Point was: people wanted him.

They never stood a chance, though. You got used to it, but Aaron was an expert. He dodged flirting like a professional, turning them down without a beat, not being blunt about it but never leaving any room from any misinterpretation. 

You didn’t have to worry about it, but there was no logical explanation that could shoo away the ache on your chest from the fact that you couldn’t even brag about being his girlfriend, not-subtly walking around with your hands wrapped around his arm, shoving on everyone’s faces how much he loved you.

Although you knew it was a completely understandable feeling, you were stubborn enough to swallow it back, trying to look cool and unbothered by it. Because in true honesty, even if you could do something about it, you wouldn’t. He handled it just fine, and Ms. Springer was in no way shape or form disrespectful – except for that longing look on her face that made you want to poke her eye out with a pen. But you were mature, really. You weren’t going to say anything about it.

“Hey, heartbreaker.” it slipped out of your tongue before you could hold yourself back. You bite your lower lip immediately, shutting your eyes close in desperation. Oh, so mature.

Hotch, on the other hand, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Quite the opposite, you heard him chuckle behind you, his breath fanning on the nape of your neck from his position behind you. Son of a bitch.

“I knew it.” He teased, before leaving a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear, smiling so hard he barely managed to close his lips on your skin “Honey, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” it was the truth. You weren’t worried – annoyed, jealous, possessive, bitter? Sure. But not worried.

“Really?” his hands found your hips, turning you around to face him. Your eyes squinted at how amused he looked.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not enjoying this.” you muttered and he laughed, actively throwing his head back.

“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. But it’s fun to see the tables turned.”

You grimaced at him “What are you even talking about?”

He arched an eyebrow at you “All the men I have to endure bashfully flirting with you in front of me. And having to shake their hands afterwards.” you roll your eyes “It’s nice to see a change in scenario.”

“Oh shut up. Women flirt with you all the time and I have to—” he presses his lips together to try and stifle a laugh and you realize you walked right into his trap “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

“I believe you.” he doesn’t – and he’s completely right in not doing so.

Instead of admitting it and just moving on, you just step closer to him, flashing him a smile that makes his heart beat faster.

“I’m not worried in the slightest.” you drag your fingernail against his chest, dragging it down until the hem of his pants, hooking your finger on his belt hoops “Is actually flattering when other women flirt with you. Makes me proud that they want what’s mine.” you stop mid-track, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, your eyelashes batting in a dramatic way “Aren’t you mine, Aaron?”

He knew what you were doing, right from the start. But he felt for it, like he always did. All logical thinking flies away from his brain whenever you flirt with him like this. So he cleared his throat, nodding pathetically.

“I am. You have nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled, pushing away from his chest and walking away “You already said that. Plus, Ms. Springs have nothing on me.”

“Ms. Springer.” he corrected, making you stop on your feet, turning slowly against him. You squeeze your eyes in his direction, realizing he was teasing you.

“That’s a dangerous game, Hotchner.”

He laughed, approaching you and giving your backside a playful smack before walking out, leaving you stunned on your feet “You started it”.

Oh, it was on.

After that, there wasn’t much work to do. Apart from some reports here and there, time went by quickly, and next thing you knew the team walked out together, organizing the carpool to the dining place Jack chose. All nine of you sat up at one big round table, you finding your rightful place – not that anyone knew – by his side.

He pulled out your chair for you, just like he always did, as soon as he settled Jack down on his other side. Aaron was a gentleman, you all knew that. So that’s why no one gave you a weird look, they were used to this. But that was just the beginning.

Since Jack was there and that was a big change in scenario, he was the center of attention. The team made jokes, asked him questions and told him stories. They were so caught up with the young boy in front of him, and trying to entertain him, their profile skills didn’t notice what was going on with you.

Even though you played it cool on the briefing room, the Ms. Springer situation did bother you. And you were, in fact, being extra touchy with him. Pulling your chair closer to his, touching his arms when speaking directly to him, getting a fry from his plate without asking first. Things you usually didn’t let yourself do in front of the team.

And being the loving, respectful and enthusiastic boyfriend that he was, he just let you. Not daring to say a word about the way you lingered closer to his side, or laughed too loud at one of his jokes. Of course, the twinkle on his eyes and the smirk playing on his lips giving in that you would be hearing about it later.

In your defense, he wasn’t being any better: always making sure to fill your glass up, handing you napkins and the ketchup bottle before you could even think of asking. It got to the point where while he shared a story with Emily, who sat right by your side, he even rested his arm on the back of your chair, with the excuse to make himself be heard better by her.

Eventually they started to notice, though. Alex noticed your proximity when she asked you to reach for the mayonnaise and your arm brushed against Hotch’s because of how close you were. Then Reid and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances when you referred to Hotch as Aaron, which none of you usually did. Rossi cleared his throat after he called your boyfriend’s name twice but he was too busy smiling at something you were saying to listen. Morgan arched an eyebrow when you left to the restroom, squeezing Hotch’s shoulder on the way. And JJ almost choked on her hamburger as he leaned his head back to watch you walk away, eyes glued to your backside in awe.

But Jack really sealed the deal for you.

“So, Jack, what did you think about career day today?” Rossi asked the boy, who (instructed by his father) finished swallowing his hot dog bite to answer.

“I loved it. My dad won.” everybody on the table laughed.

“It’s not a competition.” Hotch pointed out, despite the proud smile dancing across his lips.

“Shut up, you won.” you nudged his side, earning a laugh from both Jack and Aaron.

The two of you seemed to be so lost in your whole little bubble, neither realized the exchange of mischievous glances between the team.

“Jacky, be honest. Was my cave the best part of the tour, yes or no?” Garcia tried.

“I feel like the lab really made an impression.” Reid chimed, holding his finger up with a lopsided grin on his face. Morgan snorted.

“Right, weirdos. We all saw how their eyes lit up in the gym.”

Jack, much to everyone’s please, laughed loudly to each and every joke from the team members. They absolutely loved the kid, and it was a breath of fresh air amongst all the darkness they deal with on a daily basis to be around that kind of innocence and joy.

“Now, tell us. Do you want to be a profiler when you grow up?” Alex asked, wiggling her eyebrows expectantly. All eyes turned to him, excited and curious.

Jack pressed his lips back together, his eyes darting at each one of them, like he was calculating and weighing every pro and con of being a profiler. Stopping at his dad’s face, he nodded to himself, finally getting to a conclusion. He looked back at Alex and answered, point blank.

“No.” their reaction was priceless. Some laughed, some frowned in a fake disappointment, one of them sat back, worrying he was such a bad parent that the mere thought of being somewhat close to what his father is was unbearable for Jack.

“Mhm, agreed.” Garcia nodded, jabbing Derek’s side with her elbow like she heard the little boy say how much she was better than them. “But why’s that?”

Jack shifted on his seat, looking like he was about to give a lecture “I really like reading Harry Potter before bed. And profilers only read work. I wouldn’t like it.”

Everyone at the table laughed – even Aaron, who finally looked like he could breathe again –, and you understood immediately. Aaron, more often than not, had a file on his bedside table, the endless amount of paperwork following him home, and sometimes, when Jack asked his dad what he was reading, he just answered “Work. It’s boring, you wouldn’t like it.” and apparently he took these words way too seriously.

“Oh, sweetie. I fear that’s just your dad.” JJ explained, giving Hotch a pointed and amused look.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Jack just pressed his lips together, shaking his head in disagreement. He then, faster than you could ever think, his eyes fell on you and he pointed his chubby little fingers at your figure, like he was accusing you of first degree murder.

“She does it too, I’ve seen it. They even read together.” he explained, and your mind went blank.

It was like a bomb had dropped. A big fat juicy gossipy bomb, but still. You watched everyone’s reaction before your brain even registered what just happened. Spencer’s eyes darted between you and Hotch like he was rewatching every last interaction to see what he missed. Derek had a wolf-like smile on his face, and you already knew you were going to listen. Garcia looked like a life version of the heart eyes emoji. JJ and Alex looked like they were about to start jumping on their seats and cheering. Rossi looked proud and smug, and Emily had her mouth and eyes wide open, so much that if she tried a little harder you were sure they would pop out of her head.

All while Jack took another bite of his hot-dog, the corner of his mouth sticky with ketchup and mustard, incredibly unaware of what he just had done. On the other hand, you and Aaron stared at each other with wide eyes, not sure on how to act. There wasn’t any way you could avoid the topic now, was it? Absolutely not. And no one would believe you if you came up with a lie, even if you were creative enough to think of an explanation to why Jack saw you and his dad together in bed reviewing case files that didn’t involve the words ‘secret relationship’ in it.

“My, my.” Derek broke the silence, the weight of his smile dripping on the tone of his voice. You knew that there was no way back, but your mind just went blank.

Surprisingly, Aaron made the first move. His astonished expression melting into a wild grin, his shoulders shaking with a laugh that was almost just as surprising at Jack’s revelation. Infected by his laugh and the beautiful sigh of his dimples, you laughed too, letting your head fall down to his shoulder, your hair shielding your blushing face. You felt him connect his lips to your forehead in a long and gentle kiss. ‘I love you, we’re in this together.’

Your little bubble was finally popped by Garcia’s cooing, instantly followed by the rest of the team’s reactions. There were laughs, amused accusations, heavy (not too heavy, there was a kid there after all) teasing, bribery (Emily and Morgan offered desserts to Jack in order to get more answers), threats of dismissal (Hotch’s reaction to that. He wasn’t serious, though. At least not too serious) and mainly, love. They showed you and him so much support, love and genuine happiness, you started to wonder why you didn’t say anything sooner.

Until later, while all of you walked back to your cars, Morgan and Garcia pulled you to the side, followed by two very eager JJ and Prentiss. He clapped his hands together in front of his torso, and looked at you with a smirk.

“You don’t have to say anything, just tell me when to stop.” and started to slowly pull his hands apart, his eyebrows wiggling at you teasingly.

And then, you remembered.

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.